Brian Stover, 29 y/o (part 1)

Age: 29
Favorite author: Earnest Hemmingway, Gore Vidal

In college he shared an apartment with John,
John with his girlfriend always sitting in the livingroom waiting for him.

He'd ask her, "What do you really see in this guy?".
"The obligatory bad boyfriend experience", she said underneath a crust of lipstick.

They'd sit in the living room, watching television.

She'd ask him, "Do you love him?".
With the coffeemaker fogging up the room he'd say, "I'm not gay."

All he could do was to lay down and listen as the ground of their relationship fell deeper into the earth.

He had the same name as her brother she said just before John came in with pussy juice on his stubble. John, the guitar-flaunter. Sarah held on to him like she wanted to suck out as much humiliation of him before it'd be over.

At this point, he'd always sneak out, hearing John's loud voice scraping away at
her dignity.

For hours he'd walk around in his darkened neighborhood waiting for the fights to be over.
That summer was a hot one. Without wallets and keys, some nights he slept on a blanket in the park thinking about her, would she come out alright after this?

Some nights he'd bring a bottle of Jaeger and sit on the curb until she'd come out.

They'd sit and watch the streetlights gathered bugs.
She'd start crying and he'd put his arm around her, kissing her forehead.

She'd ask, "You sure you're not gay?."
He'd say, "Do you really hate yourself that much?"

At the end, she'd always laugh and say, "No."