“What are you watching?” I asked, forcing Kenzo to scoot away on the cuddle chair placed a few centimeters from the television screen.
“Jumanji,” he mumbled, slumped on the couch, arms crossed, eyes on the screen, but it was plain he was not really into the film. “Welcome to the jungle.”
“Come on, Takahashi, not that creepy stuff again,” I moaned, reaching for the popcorn placed on his lap as I cuddled close, breathing in his scent.
“It’s nice.” He shrugged, his voice barely carrying any form of enthusiasm.
“Oh, please.” I rolled my eyes. It wasn’t as though the movie was bad. I just didn’t think it was nice enough for someone to watch it twenty times.
As the movie flickered across the screen, I remembered promising his mom to talk him into calling his dad.
I stole a glance at him. His jaw was set, fingers drumming a slow, steady beat on his thigh.
“So, um,” I started, carefully.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” He silenced me before I could even build the courage to keep talking.
“Uh, sure. Okay.” I nodded, releasing a defeated sigh.
After a beat, I cleared my throat, sitting up on the couch. Kenzo glanced at me from the corner of his eyes, but his gaze remained focused on the screen.
“So, if you don’t want to talk about your problems, can we maybe talk about mine?”
His sharp eyes flickered to me, a tired exhale breaking through his lips, his brow raised. “Do I have a choice?”
“Not exactly.” I gave him a sheepish grin.
He shook his head, making a vague gesture for me to go on.
Hesitant to speak, I gazed at my hands. Kenzo was probably tired of hearing about my boy problems. But he was all I had. He was the only one that would genuinely listen.
“So, Rowan has been texting me still,” I started, unsure of where this conversation would lead me.
Rowan indeed had been texting me, incessantly, for the past one week now. The first one had dropped into my inbox on a Saturday morning. I had thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me.
Then I read the message over and over again, but nothing changed. It didn’t disappear, morph into something I couldn’t define.
Just ‘hey, it’s me.’
And it sat there unanswered for the entire day. Then more came in. Apologies, explanations, the desire to meet me. All remained unanswered. Because I didn’t know what to say. Because I wasn’t sure what I wanted. What was with them ghosting me then crawling back?
Kenzo’s expression was flat as he replied with, “And?”
“I’m at my wit’s end, trying to figure out what to do,” I said, my voice mirroring my frustration. “I tried on countless occasions to reach out to him, you know.” I pouted in defeat. “I guess I don’t know what to say to him? This whole shit is making me absolutely nuts.”
“And on the other hand?” he urged.
“And,” I murmured, my fingers picking at the thread sticking out of my arm warmer. “I think I want Callan instead.”
Kenzo straightened slightly, his expression darkening.
“I haven’t texted him yet.” I rushed to admit, as if I needed any reason to justify my actions. “But I think what I did to him was wrong. Maybe I was too fast. I mean, I already knew things like this are new to him. What if he didn’t know how to commit or how to handle a relationship? What if he just needed a few more weeks or even months?” Pausing, my eyes darted to the screen, yet my attention remained diffused. “I don’t know. I feel like maybe I closed the door on him too quickly. I was impatient and selfish, wanting everything done at my pace and timing, you know?”
I took a deep breath. Callan was a man of brief words. Just because I, on the other hand, felt deeply didn’t mean he was emotionless. He might have required my help to comprehend his feelings. But I closed the door without giving him a chance.
“Honestly, I really want you to move on,” Kenzo said, his tone serious. “Both relationships or whatever keep hurting you. I really want you to leave them behind and take a distinct step.”
Unsatisfied, I knitted my brows at what he just said. Surely, cutting off the two men who had truly ever made me feel things at a great length wasn’t the only solution to this problem, was it?
