Letting feelings out.

I told Thomas the story of my weekend, trying to keep it family friendly simply out of embarrassment. There would come a day when Thomas and I would share more explicit stories about sex, but this was not the day. Still, I couldn’t deny that things HAD happened, and that the girls were not only okay with it, but seemed to encourage it and shared every last detail.

“Ugh!” Thomas groaned in frustration and launched the ball towards the hoop over his shoulder with way too much strength. Surprisingly though, the damn thing STILL WENT IN.

“Okay, how do you do that?” I asked, baffled.

“Oliver, you said you were big, right?”

I didn’t need to ask what he was referring to. God, let the planet swallow me. “Yes…”

“How big?”

“I don’t know, Thomas…!” I sighed, frustrated. “Around 25 cm? I haven’t fucking mesured it!”

“But none of the girls have a problem, right?” he asked, frowning.

Oh. I started to see where he was going with this.

“20 to 25 cm may be big, but it’s not THAT big. The human body is made for this shit, isn’t it? Compatibility my ass. Lyla just never liked me. Why did she say yes when I asked her out, then? Dammit.” Thomas grit his teeth and shook his head. He was finally letting out all the emotions he was holding back.

“I don’t know her well,” I started. “But I doubt she’d say yes for no reason, Thomas. To everyone, you two always seemed like a good couple. Was it always bad when you two were alone?”

“Of course not!” he grunted and kicked the ground. He looked down and held his head. “That’s why it hurts. I… I wanted this to work out, Oliver. I really liked her. But now I… I feel so damn angry! Did I not try hard enough? Did she find someone else she likes better? I don’t fucking know. Worst is that I… That I feel like I don't like Lyla anymore. Just like that. Does that mean that my feelings for her were shallow, too?”

“I think it’s normal to feel that way. To you, it must feel like she betrayed you.”

Slowly, Thomas nodded.

Shit. Shit. What could I say? Should I just stay silent and listen? Simply be an ear for him to vent his frustrations? Or should I say something to try and cheer him up?

I didn’t know if what I was going to say would help or make things worse, but I always stayed quiet, I always regretted not saying anything. I wanted to say something to help him feel better, or try, at least. I only hoped this wasn’t the one time where keeping quiet was the right answer.

“...I think it’s fine that way. Be angry. Shout. Cry if you need to. It means that what you felt for her was real. What comes later can wait. In time you’ll move on, but for now… I think it’s fine if you let it all out.”

I felt… awkward. Who was I to be saying such things? I had no experience with stuff like this. I wasn’t talking from experience or any sort of higher wisdom. I simply thought that… it was okay to feel things. There was no need for him to bottle things up.

With a weak chuckle, Thomas sat down on the floor. Slowly, his laughter turned into soft sobbing, and Thomas let himself cry. It was nearly inaudible, and he hid his face by looking down, but he was crying.

Awkwardly, I sat down next to him. It’s not that I didn’t want to be there, but I was afraid to make HIM uncomfortable. Yet much to my surprise, Thomas turned to me and started crying on my shoulder.

“I liked her, Oliver,” he muttered, sobbing softly. “I just hope I didn’t hurt her…”

“You didn’t,” I told him, putting an arm around his shoulder. “At least that I’m sure of.”

Thomas and I parted ways some twenty minutes after that. He thanked me for being there. Said he’d be fine and would like time alone to think. I hoped it didn’t mean that I did more harm than good with my presence, but I understood the importance of alone time.

I went back home and straight up to my room. Mom wasn’t there yet, but she’d arrive soon. I sat on my bed, unplugged guitar on my lap. I did some random fingerpicking for a while, head too heavy to think of any specific song to play or practice.

Then I heard a soft knock on my door. It had to be Isabelle, of course. I was seriously not in the mood for her to come and ask me if I was still spending time with Mila, Grace and Sarah, but shooing her off would only make things worse.

“Come in,” I said.

My sister came in, yet the expression on her face was… solemn, her posture non-confrontational. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Did you speak to Thomas today?” she asked me.

Oh. Was it about that? I nodded. “Just came back from talking to him, actually.”

Isabelle grimaced. “How did he look?”

“He tried to put on a brave front, but he was heartbroken. I… tried to cheer him up. I don’t know if it helped.”

My sister stepped into my room and took a seat on my desk chair, rotating it to face me. She stayed silent for a while, and feeling awkward I started to play the first thing that came to mind, and for some reason it was ‘smells like teen spirit’.

“Don’t wanna play something more original?” Isabelle asked, tone neutral, tired.

“When did you stop liking Nirvana?” I asked, echoing her tone and without stopping my hands.

“Never said I had.”

I continued playing, and Isabelle sat back to listen with eyes closed. I didn’t sing, but went through the entire song uninterrupted. Having Isabelle just sitting there, listening, felt nice. I had only just picked up the guitar before we started growing apart.

“You’ve gotten way better,” she said.

“Thanks.”

She sighed. “I tried speaking to Lyla.”

My heart skipped a beat and I turned my attention to Isabelle. “Tried?”

“She wouldn’t say why she broke up with Thomas. Only that it was better for him this way. It smelled fishy.”

I remembered one of Thomas’ passing comments, and a fear seeped into my head. “You don’t think she cheated on him, do you?”

“Doubt it. She looked heartbroken, too. It’s the most bizarre breakup of the year. Those two got along so well.”

For a moment, I was tempted to reveal to Isabelle the fact that their sex life wasn’t the best, but I soon stopped myself. An old habit. No secrets between us. That was no longer the case, and this wasn’t my secret to begin with.

“She must’ve had her reasons. We shouldn’t meddle anymore than we’re allowed.”

“I’d say that if Lyla didn’t want to be with him anymore, then it’s better that they broke up, but I think she regrets it, too.”

“Then maybe the time apart will do them some good?”

“I hope. Though she shouldn’t blame Thomas if he moves on. She asked for this.”

I nodded in agreement.

Another silence passed between us, and I started fingerpicking some more random notes.

“Do you know ‘The man who sold the world?’” she asked me.

“That’s originally from David Bowie, though, not Nirvana.”

“I still like it.”

I played it. I liked it too. Isabelle didn’t say a thing while I played, and when I was done, she stood up and left my room.

I chuckled. Somehow, that felt like a truce. It was nice.