3. Isaiah #4
“God, why are you being so difficult about this, Isaiah? I let you stay with me when your parents kicked you out. You should be grateful.”
“Grateful,” Isaiah laughed. “You think I should be fucking grateful for that. What? Want me to get on my knees and thank you properly for displaying human fucking decency to the man you professed to love?”
“That came out wrong. Zay, come on. I think we need to take a breath.”
“Honestly, I don’t fucking care what you think, Ollie. We’re done here.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Isaiah. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” Ollie said, as though he’d finally realised what he was losing.
“You should be with Matt, Ollie. It’s obvious that’s what you want.”
Ollie was shaking his head. “It was a mistake,” Ollie said, reaching out to touch Isaiah’s cheek. Isaiah flinched away. “Matt’s just drunk, he’s not… I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.” He looked completely devastated at the thought of it.
Isaiah had always figured Ollie was carrying a torch for his friend, but after seeing Matt fuck his way through half of the women in their college, he hadn’t really worried about it.
Isaiah laughed. “Fuck, Ollie. You have way bigger issues here than I’m prepared to deal with.
” He walked towards the door. “We went on a break so you could enjoy your holiday or whatever, not so you could hook up with the man you fucking live with. You cheated, and you have to own that. But if you’re in love with your best friend, then do something about it.
Stop hiding behind a relationship you don’t give a fuck about.
It’s pretty bloody obvious you don’t actually care about me. ”
“That isn’t true,” Ollie interjected. “Of course I care, Isaiah. Please. We were on a break.”
Isaiah didn’t reply. He walked out of the bathroom, leaving Ollie standing there with bruised lips and a flagging erection.
He pushed his way out of the bar. The word “grateful” echoing in his ears.
That was what his parents had said too, that he should be grateful for everything they’d given him.
Grateful they’d let him live under their roof as long as they had, and couldn’t he just try a bit harder to be normal? Out of fucking gratitude?18
Once he was out in the cold air, Isaiah practically sprinted back to his room.
He’d pulled off his clothes and sunk into his bed, duvet pulled up over his eyes, before he let a single tear fall.
It wasn’t for Ollie though. It was for the person he’d been who’d thought he needed him, thought he needed anyone at all.
For the time he’d wasted while his boyfriend gave all his time and affection to someone else.
For the way he’d made himself smaller, sweeter, easier to deal with for someone who wasn’t worth the fucking effort.
For someone who saw their relationship as a simple exchange of services. 19
Isaiah felt like he was drifting around his room in a daze. He wasn’t sure if he’d fully accepted the weight of what had happened. After all, he was getting used to betrayal.
Alone in his room, long after he should have gone to bed, Isaiah leaned over the sink and watched the bleach rinse out of his hair, the baby blue disappearing.
He changed the colour often—pink, lilac, mint—usually without much thought.
Ollie had hated this one, he’d been quite vocal about it before he’d swanned off with Matt on their world tour.
Isaiah hadn’t changed it then, but he hadn’t argued much either.
Maybe it was ridiculous to do it now, when he and Ollie were most assuredly finished, the tentative “break” of the summer now officially permanent in Isaiah’s mind.
But something about changing his hair back felt like starting fresh. Like wiping the slate clean.
He wasn’t even heartbroken. More…embarrassed. Had they all known? Ollie’s friends? Was it all a joke to them?
In the wee hours of the morning, he looked in the mirror, his hair settled back into its usual pale blond. Familiar. Nondescript. Boring. And maybe a new start, one where he would be more careful who he trusted.20
His phone buzzed on the counter. He ignored it, towelled his hair dry, and packed a weekend bag instead.
The Green case was still open on his laptop, a half-finished document waiting to be tightened and argued into something useful.
Or at least it would be if Green would answer his fucking questions.
He sat down and typed out one more email, likely in vain.
He read it back, well aware that the tone was now verging into unprofessional territory, but Isaiah had no fucks left to give.
He booked a train back to his uncle’s for the next morning and shut the laptop. He’d rather spend the weekend working through evidence and intention than sitting still long enough to feel whatever this nonsense with Ollie was trying to drag up.
Fuck the Friday epistemology tutorial, there was no way he’d make it through it in the state he was in anyway.