Deviant(2)

Why hadn’t I gone to the police? Well, it may sound strange, but I didn’t feel scared. Call me stupid, but I didn’t feel this person wanted to hurt me in any way. I wasn’t sure if it was the beautiful, masculine musky smell he left behind, or the way I found his silly hiding games so comical. For some reason, he just wanted me to know he was here.

I was also being followed on a regular basis. I could sense that, too, but I didn’t feel intimated or frightened by it. I’d even started referring to this guy as “My Stranger”.

Now, this might sound absolutely crazy, but the thing that really bugged me about this guy was that he had a fetish for toilet paper being placed on the underside of the hook in the toilet. What annoyed me about it was I hate—and I mean hate it—when people did that. Don’t ask me why it bugged me so much, but it did. Toilet paper should be upside on the hook, not underside!



*****



The following day, I was spending my lunch hour with Ian. We were still best friends who relied on each other, and had been with each other through thick and thin. We’d practically known each other since we were babies. Our parents met before I was even born and Ian was almost two. It was strange why he hung around me, considering there was a two year difference. It all started at the age of five when I started school. Ian had already been there two years and felt the need to protect me. We became a lot closer after that. He was the golden boy, as far as my parents were concerned. He could never do anything wrong. They knew I liked Dean, but always pushed me towards Ian. I guess Dean punching someone on his first day of school didn’t help the impression they had of him. And this was what was wrong with today. The only person missing from our unit was Dean.

“You know, it’s his thirty-first birthday today.”

Looking up at Ian, I saw his sombre face. Ian was always a good-looking boy with golden hair and bright brown eyes. His hair was a wavy mess, which had never changed. He only grew to five foot ten, but that was still taller than my five foot five. “Whatever happened to him, Ian?” It still pained me whenever I thought about him.

Frowning, Ian looked off into the distance. “I don’t know. He just up and disappeared on us. I’ve never heard from him again. I don’t know whether to blame him or his parents. We were all good friends until he pissed off.”

Feeling the guilt surface, I sighed. “He was young, Ian. We all were.”

Ian saw the expression and frowned. “You know, I will never forgive him for leaving you like that. I’m not stupid. I know you two were close, and I know he said he would come back for you. The little shitbag never did and it hurts me to see you still like this, even after all these years.” Ian looked down at the floor and shook his head.

“Ian, it was thirteen years ago. A lot has changed since then.” I didn’t know who I was trying to convince…him or me.

Looking me in the eye, Ian sighed. “And you’ve never gotten over him, have you?” He saw me look away, so he gently grabbed my hand. “You can’t lie to me, Tyler. I’ve known you for too long. I can see in your eyes just how much you miss him.”

Snatching my hand away, I gave a deep sigh and smiled. “You can’t change the past, Ian. What happened, happened. Life has to move on. I won’t deny I still think about him, but what’s the point? I think thirteen years is long enough to let me know he’s not ever coming back.”

Sitting back in his chair, Ian gave me a cheeky grin. “You know, there’s always me. We don’t have long to go until that time, Tyler.” Ian winked at me, referring to the running joke we have that once I hit thirty, and we still hadn’t found anyone, we would get married to each other.

“We’d kill each other within the first year. I can guarantee it.” I winked back.

Ian shook his head in dismay. “You know, I’m a little disappointed in you, Tyler. I would have thought you had a bit more faith in our relationship after all this time.”

I started laughing. “You and I both know it’s true.”

Playing with his lighter, Ian sat up and grabbed a cigarette. “That’s the third one you’ve had in the last fifteen minutes,” I stated.

Putting it in his mouth, he lit it up. “I know. My nerves are shot to fucking hell today. I’ve got to write this article on the youths of today, and I can’t seem to focus. I’m expected to have it ready by three o’clock this afternoon.”

I looked at my watch. “You do realise it’s already one-thirty, don’t you?”

Rising out of his seat suddenly, his eyes bulged. “Fucking hell! I gotta go.”