Just Friends Read online

  Tarjei knew exactly what I liked. After four years of sexual encounters, we knew each other inside and out. We knew what got each other going. And he fucked me with three fingers for a few minutes, until he replaced them with his cock. It was thicker and it burned as it slid inside me, and I loved it. I loved feeling a hard, warm, pulsing dick slide inside my body. There was nothing quite like it.

  ‘Fuck!’ I moaned, my voice muffled by the pillow my face was mushed against.

  Tarjei held onto my hips as set a quick rhythm of thrusts that made everything but the here and now disappear from my head. I couldn’t think straight. I could only feel his cock rubbing against my prostate. I could only moan in pleasure, groan as he pulled back out, grunt as he seated himself fully.

  Sex with Tarjei was the best sex.

  When he let go of my hips and instead braced his palms against my shoulder blades… as he set a harder, faster rhythm… I was completely undone. I came hard, muffling my loud moans in the pillow again. My body seized around him, which made him come not soon after me.

  He collapsed on top of me. His arms embraced me. I was so far gone on my postorgasmic cloud I didn’t even mind he was hugging me.

  ‘You asleep?’ His lips brushed against my shoulder.

  ‘No.’ My face was still buried against his pillow. It smelled of his aftershave. I liked that smell. It reminded me of us like this, completely spaced after awesome sex.

  As I started coming off my cloud, I started feeling his weight on me.

  ‘Get off,’ I grunted. ‘You’re heavy.’

  He rolled off to lie on his back next to me. There was a snap as he pulled off the condom, and I turned my head slightly to watch him tie it and drop it over the edge of the bed.

  ‘Do you have Easter off from work?’ That was a stupid question, but I only realised once I’d said it.

  ‘Well, yeah.’ He looked at me. ‘You do too.’

  ‘Yeah.’ I had a whole damn week off, as well as Monday. I should be excited about the holiday seeing as I hated school, but I wasn’t excited in the least. ‘Everyone’s gone. Andreas and Alex buggered off to Aarvik to visit Alex’s brother. Thomas is off to Spain to see Grandma. Even Maria’s got a boyfriend.’ And Kristina was spending Easter with hers. She might as well move in with Jo seeing as she was hardly home anymore.

  ‘I haven’t got any plans for Easter,’ Tarjei said.

  ‘No plans with Nik?’ I couldn’t keep the bitterness out of my voice.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Me neither.’ I was not going to be the one to contact Nik first. He was the one who was home. He should contact me. If he didn’t want to spend time with me, then fuck him.

  I was not going to break first. I wasn’t.

  I didn’t stay with Tarjei. Instead, I went home. To a dark, empty house. Not even Maria was home now, as the window in her room was dark as well.

  I trudged down to the basement and fell onto my bed. Then I sat up again to wrench out of my jacket because all I’d bothered with upstairs was to leave my shoes in the hall.

  When the jacket was off and thrown away, I grabbed my iPod, thrust my headphones on my head, and lay back down. Time to wallow in misery.

  Sometimes I could get in a better mood if I listened to music that gave me a happy feeling. Today was not such a day. Nothing could make me feel better about myself, so my choice in music reflected that.

  I was a complete and utter failure. Not even my best friend wanted to be around me anymore.

  I couldn’t help it that I hated my entire life. That I was a black fucking cloud bringing everyone else down with me. If I could be more cheerful or positive, I would be. I hated being so negative, I hated being like this. But it was me. It was the way I was. I couldn’t do shit about it.

  I couldn’t see anything positive about my situation at all.

  Sure, I was still in school. But in my fourth year, while everyone else managed to finish high school in three. I was the only one stupid enough to have to take my first year over two years. I’d been working my arse off during the second year not to have to do that over two years as well, but my grades had still been shitty. And now… in my third year… I’d just given up. What was the point in trying when I couldn’t get good grades no matter what I did?

  I should drop out. It would be better for everyone.

  But what prospect would I have as a high school drop-out? The only ones who’d want to hire me then would be the supermarkets and I was not made for customer service. Even Alex hated working at a supermarket and he was a nice guy. I was not. I hated people.

  Still, I wanted to be on my own, have my own flat. I wanted to only have myself to worry about. I wanted a job I liked. Preferably something to do with music. But that was impossible. My dyslexia fucked everything up for me.

  What would I do in music anyway? Not many people managed to live off of music alone in this country. Not many people were discovered every year unless they went on Idol or Norway’s Got Talent or some other shit.

  With my current stage fright—the damn anxiety music itself left me with nowadays—I could forget all about those things. It wasn’t like I wanted to be famous, even. I just wanted to make a living.

  What’s the point? a treacherous voice spoke in my head. What was the point of going through this? I was an utter failure. Better to accept that now and be done with it.

  I pulled up the sleeves of my jumper and turned my arms over. I had lots of scars. Most of my skin was covered in scars. Some were shallow ones, some were deep. On the inside of my wrists were the deepest ones. I’d tried to kill myself when I’d done that, tried to bleed to death.

  That was before I found out it was much better to cut from wrist to elbow, because that’s where the main artery was. By the time I’d figured that out, though, Thomas had found out about my cutting and had me thrown in therapy.

  God, I hated therapy.

  Having to talk about deeply personal things with a stranger—that wasn’t me. I was open about a lot of things, especially my music and sexuality, but my feelings… not so much.

  Speaking of feelings…

  The bass of the music drummed in my ears. I closed my eyes, trying to focus myself, but the image of Nik kept appearing. Nik liked this song. That was the only reason I had it on my iPod.

  Nik, who I’d been in love with since I was thirteen and figured out what my dick was for. Nik was a ray of sunshine in an otherwise bleak existence. Nik was always happy and in a good mood, always had a smile ready. He loved colours, he loved lewd T-shirts, he loved being out and proud. Nasty comments didn’t get to him. Nothing at all got to Nik.

  Not even me. I’d been in love with him for seven years now…

  For four of them, I’d been shagging his older brother. I’d lost my virginity to Tarjei because I’d been dying to have sex and he’d been willing. But before I found out he was willing, I’d only pulled him because he looked like Nik.

  Tarjei was right. He was my substitute for Nik.

  Nik, who couldn’t even be bothered to text me he was back in town for the holidays. Nik, who I hadn’t heard a single word from in weeks. And he was supposed to be my best friend. My only friend, really. If I didn’t have Nik, I didn’t have anyone.

  Alex was the only one, besides Nik, I felt truly comfortable with. But he had so much other shit going on. Neither one of them had time for me. Alex, I could understand, as he was busy with school, had a new relationship still blossoming, and was struggling with his own mental health.

  But Nik… What did he have going for him? Why couldn’t he text me? Or ring me? Why didn’t he want to see me?

  ‘Fuck this.’ Tears pressed against my eyelids and I jerked my headphones off. No more music Nik liked.

  I headed into the bathroom to relieve myself. When I washed my hands after, my gaze fell on my razor. It sat there, on the shelf, all innocent looking. But it hid something very dangerous.

  I took the top off and sank to the floor as I plucked on the p
lastic keeping the three small, thin blades in place. Once I got the plastic casing off, the blades fell free and tumbled to the floor. I grabbed one of them.

  Don’t do this, one voice in my head said. I’d gotten past this.

  Except you haven’t, another said. So do it.

  I hated the warring voices in my head. It was like having an angel on one shoulder, and the devil himself on the other.

  Why not do it though? I was good for nothing anyway.

  I hadn’t cut in years. Not since my tattoos were finished when I was eighteen. I would never fuck up the art on my arms. But I had so much other skin that wasn’t tattooed. I could mutilate that a little.

  No.

  I couldn’t do it. I stopped this. But I hadn’t felt this miserable since I was seventeen either. I didn’t know why I felt so miserable even. I just was. A constant feeling of misery that refused to leave me alone.

  Do it, do it, do it.

  Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it.

  I threw the tiny blade away and instead went upstairs to raid Thomas’s liqueur.

  Nik was at Steam and he was drunk.

  So was I, for that matter, but that wasn’t anything unusual the past couple of days. I’d avoided Nirvana though because that was Nik’s favourite hang-out, and now here we both were at another popular club in town.

  Had he avoided Nirvana because that was also my favourite hang-out?

  What a fucking awesome best friend he was, if that was the case.

  Nik… The one I’d wanted to be more than friends with for so many years. Nik, who had no idea. Nik, who didn’t give a shit. Nik, who didn’t even want to see me the short time he was back home.

  It all just made me feel like shit.

  I needed a break, so I headed outside for some fresh air. It wasn’t quiet outside by any means, people were outside getting some fresh air of their own. I walked along the building until I came to the backdoor. No one was there since it was meant for staff.

  ‘I fucking hate this!’ I kicked at a plastic chair standing there. It went skidding. I didn’t feel any better.

  ‘Ben?’

  I tensed, afraid for a minute it was Nik, but of course it wasn’t. He hadn’t so much as looked at me.

  It was Jo.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re not all right.’ He closed the door after himself and leant back against it, crossing his muscular arms over his chest. ‘You’ve been drinking.’

  ‘Everyone in that bar has been drinking,’ I pointed out. Why was he putting his nose in my business when there were people drunker than me in there?

  ‘Not everyone in there is on strong antidepressants.’

  ‘Fuck you.’ I didn’t need for him to point that out. He might be my cousin, but he had no business looking after me. I was a legal adult and could look after myself.

  ‘Don’t give me that shit.’ Jo glowered at me. ‘You can’t drink while you’re on strong anti-depressants, Ben. Get your shit together.’

  ‘You are not my mother.’ I glowered at him. I had no mother. Had never had one because she’d been dead since I was only days old.

  ‘Are you messing up your life on purpose?’ Jo crossed his arms over his chest, glowering right back at me.

  ‘Yeah, because I do all this on purpose.’ The sarcasm dripped from my voice. If I’d been well enough to do this on purpose, then yeah, he could look down on me. But I didn’t! I drank because I had no choice, because it was either that or hurt myself. I wasn’t well.

  Jo came forward and grabbed my shoulders. I avoided his gaze.

  ‘I recognise myself in you right now,’ he said in a low voice.

  ‘Oh, fuck you, we’re nothing alike.’ It was the wrong thing to say, because he’d had it a lot worse than I had in life, but the words tumbled out anyway.

  No one’s got it worse than me right now. Or that’s what it felt like, anyway.

  Jo’s eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘Oh, I don’t know, Ben. Having a crazy, abusive mother doesn’t count, does it? I guess having an uncle who sexually abused us doesn’t count either? How about when I was so far down I considered suicide, because everything hurt so much? Except I couldn’t do it, because Jørgen had already tried and failed. How about when I soared so high, and everything was so great, and nothing that happened at home mattered? Because I was happy, ecstatic, and nothing could pull me down because I was at the top of the world.’

  A bad feeling spread through my gut.

  ‘How about when I was hospitalised and put in belts because I’d fly into a rage? Because I was so manic I saw and heard hallucinations? Because I was liable to hurt people? How about when I almost beat a guy to death because he was mean to my brother? No, Ben, I can’t possibly have had trouble with anything.’

  The fight went out of me and I sagged against him. I knew all this. Of course I did. We’d lived together. I knew how much worse his life had been and how much he struggled.

  His arms pulled me in tight against a hard, flat, muscular chest.

  ‘No matter how bad the mania got, the depression was always the worst,’ he said against the top of my head. ‘I longed for the manic phase, because I was invincible then. When I was depressed all I wanted was to die.’

  ‘I wish I was dead,’ I whispered, muffled against his shirt. ‘Everything wouldn’t hurt then. The anxiety wouldn’t knot me up. Wouldn’t leave me drenched in sweat, or waking from nightmares.’

  Jo’s big hands ran over my back. ‘Come back in, let me finish my shift, and tomorrow I’ll help you.’

  ‘Help me with what?’ My voice turned hard, because how could he help? He couldn’t get me in somewhere to see someone, or get me meds, because it was fucking Easter.

  ‘Whatever you need.’ He pushed me out from him, held me at arm’s length. ‘Let’s go in before they come looking for me. There’s only a couple hours left of serving drinks, then clean-up before we can go home. You can sit in the back.’

  I nodded stiffly. I didn’t want to go back in, but I also didn’t want to be outside alone.

  After a deep breath, an attempt to centre myself, I followed Jo through the backdoor.

  Thursday, April 18th

  Dozing off in the back room wasn’t the most comfortable position to be in. At least I got some sleep before Jo finished work, even though it wasn’t good sleep.

  When Jo locked up the place and we headed outside, I spotted Nik slumped against the wall of the building.

  ‘Do you want to come home with me?’ Jo stared at me. I didn’t think he’d seen Nik yet.

  I glanced at my best friend, who sat crouched, with his head in his hands. The guy he’d been with was nowhere to be seen. Most other people had moved off too, though some drunk ones still hung around.

  ‘No.’ I wanted my own bed. I didn’t want to impose on Jo—and most likely Kristina, as she spent most of her nights with him. ‘Can you not tell Kristina?’ I didn’t want her to know I was off the deep end. As soon as she knew, Thomas knew.

  ‘You know I can’t do that.’ He shook his head. ‘We all care about you. I can’t keep this a secret.’

  Of course he fucking couldn’t.

  ‘I’ll get him home.’ I nodded to Nik again.

  Jo looked at him now too. ‘I’ll be by tomorrow. Then we’ll have a good, long, sober chat.’

  Oh no. I did not want any part in that. But I only nodded, eager for him to go away.

  I approached Nik hesitantly. Was he too drunk to get up? Was he asleep? Was he hurt?

  ‘Hey, Nik.’

  His head snapped up, gaze settling on me. He pushed to his feet, stumbled for a minute, but he managed to right himself.

  ‘You and I need to have a chat.’ He pointed a finger at me. It was a little bit off in his drunken stupor.

  ‘Why does everyone want to have chats with me?’ I could manage fine on my own, without pep-talks from everyone.

  ‘What?’ He frowned, confused.

  ‘Nothing.’ I shrugged.
‘Go on.’ What could he possibly have to say to me? He’d been ignoring me for weeks, and when he finally did come home, he’d been ignoring me then too.

  ‘You need to get over me.’ He delivered this in a fierce voice, all but glaring at me.

  ‘What?’ I blinked.

  Nik didn’t know about my feelings for him. He wasn’t supposed to know!

  ‘You need to get over me, Ben,’ he repeated. ‘I don’t like you. I’m not ever going to like you. Not the way you want me to.’ Even though he swayed a little on his feet, his voice was clear, not lispy as it could get sometimes when he was drunk.

  ‘Nik—’ Panic settled in my stomach.

  ‘No!’ He shouted this, so high that people that were heading away turned to look at us. ‘Forget about me, Ben. It’s never going to be us. I love you, of course I do—but as my friend. My best friend. But I can’t be around you anymore, not if you don’t get over this ridiculous crush you’ve got on me. Find someone else. You’ve got someone right in front of you.’

  ‘You’re right in front of me.’ That was an unhelpful observation.

  His eyebrows drew together and his lips thinned.

  A taxi stopped on the street next to us.

  ‘That’s me.’ He moved towards it on unsteady legs.

  ‘Let me help you.’ I moved forwards. ‘Get you home.’

  ‘No!’ He put his hand out, palms out, to stop me. ‘I don’t need your help. What we need is distance. Don’t ring me, don’t text me, don’t anything that involves me until you figure your shit out.’ With that he got in the taxi and slammed the door.

  A second later, it pulled away from the kerb, leaving me standing there like an idiot. Like an idiot who’s world crashed in on him.

  I ran back to the edge of the building, hiding out where I had been earlier before my talk with Jo. There I could be alone with my misery.

  I hammered on the wall, wanted to feel the pain, wanted to scream—

  ‘Hey, poof.’