My life is like a friggin movie sometimes.

there's cast, camera...lights, action...

I was holding Michael, shivering on the bed, looking at us as the director or the cameraman, we were shivering together, two men holding each-other.

or maybe a man and a woman holding each other

maybe two women, fuck i hate this. Why does it matter? Am I a total jack-ass for assuming Michael's gender?

In that moment, in my mind, we were two men holding eachother, but that could've just been because I was a man at the time, mostly.

Michael was crying, and I felt like she hated me for being there, for holding her, for rocking her, for saying "shh" and "it'll be ok" and whatever other bullshit I was saying at the time.

I didn't know what to say.

Or what to do.

My options felt like they were all wands on a shelf at Ollivanders, I could call out to them and one of them would fly to me- but would it be the right wand for the wizard?

The bed had a whirlpool in its center, sucking us down.

I didn't know if what I was doing was the right thing, but I had to do something right? I couldn't just let Michael dissolve into sobs, making up excuses, saying she was sorry over and over, making promises she couldn't keep, threatening to leave the bedroom, threatening everything.

In the moments that were silent, I wasn't so afraid. I tried to think of what song would be playing during this scene. I couldn't think of it at the time. Later I decided it was.....

START LYRICS

Now this is what it's like when worlds collide
Now this is what it's like....

Starfuckers
Starfuckers
Starfuckers incorporated


END LYRICS


Kyle said these were our songs. I felt proud that we had a song, "our song". It had a nice ring to it.

Later I combed through them, trying to analyze what about these songs reminded him of me. Neither of them were romantic?

They are kind of badass songs. I feel like I'm driving fast in a car when I hear them. I'm wearing like this leather jacket. Kyle must be like waaay smarter about these things than I am.

Still, I have this feeling in my stomach, like I'm falling. He says he loves me, but that's not good enough, I can't hold onto that. These songs aren't enough to work with, I can't crack their code.

I'll ask him.

I ask him, and ask him, and ask him. His face looks like it's bruised every time, but he doesn't say anything.

In the meantime, I have to fuck him. Like, every second. Everytime he plays videogames or hangs out with his mom or his friends, I feel like my head is going to explode. There's no other way.

"Come *on* Kyle...." I say in that way, grabbing his arm. It makes me feel good that he can't resist me. His mom cuts me a look but I don't know what it means.

We go to his room. The air looks green because that's the color I associate with Kyle, it's kind of a yellowy-neon green, static. I push him on the bed, he falls over like a light, stiff board. Pulls me on top then tumbles me over to the bottom, like usual. He turns on the stereo with one finger, a Green Day album. I'm close to memorizing all the songs. I look at the ceiling the whole time. I don't feel anything going on down there but a sick wet feeling. I don't even know if he's using a condom. I'm on birth control.

It's over, he's back to video games. I confront him again

"Why do you love me?" I'm nagging him, not backing down this time. I make him look at me.

"You were my first....You're a goddess. I worship you, ok?"

He bursts into tears.