“It’s just….” Kyle sighed. “Okay, I didn’t want to tell you like this, but I have a boyfriend.”
If Micah had been in a movie, this would have been the part where the dolly zoom shot occurred—Micah’s face remaining in focus while the background zoomed into him for a disorientating effect. He swallowed with difficulty. “That… could have been something you brought up before I kissed you.”
“I didn’t think you were going to try and kiss me!” Kyle protested.
The heat in his face rising, Micah went on the attack. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have kissed me back!”
“I didn’t—” Kyle broke off. “Okay, that was wrong. I guess I did start kissing you back.”
That’s big of you to admit. “What would your boyfriend think?”
He wanted to wound him, and hit the mark. Kyle looked shaken.
“You don’t have to be an arsehole about it, Micah.”
“Who’s being an arsehole?” He was being relentless, though. “I’m just asking a question.”
“I didn’t think. It was almost like….” Kyle struggled for the right word. “A habit?”
“Thanks. You’re making this so much better.”
“I’m sorry. I’m trying to explain… just, I kissed you back without thinking, because I was used to it, and I’ve missed you, and maybe my body reacted before my brain did. But it was a mistake.”
“If it was such a mistake, why did you even invite me out?”
“Is it so bad to want to catch up and see how you’re going?”
“If you have a boyfriend, it might be,” Micah pointed out. “I bet you he wouldn’t have liked you seeing your ex.”
“Maybe he’s mature.”
“Oh, really? So he gave his blessing?”
Kyle’s silence revealed everything.
“I’m sorry for kissing you.” Micah threw open his door. “But I’m even sorrier you kissed me back. You’re right. This was a huge fucking mistake.”
“Where are you going?” Kyle asked.
“Not for fucking coffee!” Micah was now out the door and ready to slam it.
“Micah, get back in the car!”
“I’ll find my own way home.” Maybe he was being childish. But Kyle shouldn’t have kissed him back if he had a boyfriend. And let Micah start to open up in the way he had. If it was a mistake even coming here in the first place, it was even more of one to let people get an insight into your feelings.
Kyle stayed in the car; he didn’t come after him.
But Micah wasn’t expecting him to.
IT WAS a treat to be riding in a tram again. It was something so uniquely tied to Melbourne, and he hadn’t even realised he had been missing them until one came gliding up on the tracks, sounding its little warning bell. Of course, these were newer streamlined models, not like the old green and gold claptraps that people got nostalgic over (and still were emblazoned on postcards even though the majority of them were retired). But they still felt familiar and, oddly, safe. Stepping onto one was like coming home, especially when the doors seamed to hermetically seal him into its warm little cocoon.
The familiar lurch as the tram took off made him momentarily lose his balance. He grinned to himself, grabbing one of the straps overhead for support. Heading for the back, Micah pulled out his headphones and brought up his “depressed” playlist on his iPod. It seemed to be his most played selection, judging by the numbers against the songs. There was nothing like a bit of James Vincent McMorrow or Bon Iver to suit his current mood (even if it seemed to be his permanent mood lately). Shouldn’t it be raining? Heavy droplets running down the tram window, much like the tears in his heart?
Man, I can really turn the purple prose when I want to.
His pocket was buzzing. Looking at his phone only confirmed that it was Kyle trying to get hold of him. Micah sent it to voice mail, but after a few seconds it began to ring again. Kyle’s face stared up at him once more, a photo taken when they were still a couple and Kyle was mocking Micah for wanting a photo to go with his profile. And he still hadn’t changed it. “Boif” came up as Kyle’s name, a cutesy nickname for “boyfriend.” How fucking stupid was Micah? He’d have to change it to “Bastard.”
“Look dramatic,” Micah had told Kyle back in the days when he thought things would last no matter what.
Now Kyle just looked mean.
Micah knew it wasn’t fair to attribute that trait to him, and he slipped the phone back into his pocket where it continued to buzz mercilessly. Kyle hadn’t done anything wrong, except, perhaps, his timing. He should have told Micah on the drive to Fitzroy that he was seeing someone. That way Micah wouldn’t have humiliated himself. Or even before that—he couldn’t have said something while texting him continuously? And somewhat flirting with him at the same time?
But was he flirting? Or just being friendly?
Oh fuck, Micah didn’t even know anymore.
The song ended, and he decided he had tortured himself enough. He wrapped his headphones around his iPod and stuck it back in his jacket pocket along with his phone. He looked up to see a couple had sat themselves across from him, and the girl was staring at him with that expression he instantly recognised—she knew him. Not personally, but she knew who he was. Fame, or somewhat fame, was still new to Micah and he scrunched down in his seat wishing he had his hoodie up. Better to look like a hooligan than an AFL player in the town that had given birth to the sport.
“Excuse me,” she said.
“Yep?” Micah asked, in a tone he hoped didn’t invite familiarity. This was not a good time.
“It’s just,” she nudged the guy next to her. “Doesn’t he look like that guy?”
“What guy?” her boyfriend replied, irritated.
“You know, the guy!”
“Oh, that guy.” He nodded at Micah. “You look like the guy.”
“You don’t have to be so bloody sarky,” she pouted.
“Well, I don’t know who you’re bloody talking about!” he said, and turned his attention back to Micah. “Who are you?”
“Nobody,” Micah replied, wishing he were anywhere else.
“No, you’re the guy,” the girl repeated with satisfaction. “The gay guy!”