Easy
By: Saachi Gupta
Tags: Song, Fiction, Short Story, Troye Sivan, Romance

Easy

The problem with this situation is that Ferai had never seen it coming. If he had imagined it — just once, in that time of fantasies and fears right before bed — it would’ve been easier. He would’ve strung seven different conversations in his head, plucked away words to replace them with newer, more nuanced ones. He would’ve pleaded, begged, argued, fought — redid things until it was all perfect.

But none of this has happened before, not even in his head. So all he can do is sit here, purposeless on the sofa, mind blank, not knowing what to do with his noodle arms.

“I wish this wasn't happening,” Nathan says, his voice splintered and rough. Ferai is surprised by the lack of blame, until it comes: “You're stupid to have done this.”

Normally, his defences would kick in. He would answer back, say something snarky even if he knew he was wrong. But Nathan is defeated and teary, his purple lips trembling, shoulders heavy — and Ferai doesn't have it in him to fight back. He has broken Nathan's trust and he's broken his heart — if this was a fight, he would've won already.

Stupid is an understatement.

Ferai had spent months blaming Nathan for the wreck that they had become. It was easy, at first, to pin it all on him — on the fact that he was always away, and when he was here, he never had the right words to say.

But Ferai knows, now, that he was out of reach, too. Stubborn about never apologizing first and scared that if they talked, they'd talk themselves out of love.

“I didn't know what to do, what to think,” he finally says, voice trembling, “I didn't know if we'd be okay. I was afraid.”

For a moment, the Nathan that Ferai sees is the one he's used to. Protective, open, gentle. In an instant, he disappears again.

“So was I!” Nathan replies, incensed again, “I still knew what was important enough to care for. I was still looking for the right things to say. Hoping that I'd find them, one day, and everything would be okay again.”

Ferai squirms, looking away for what feels like the hundredth time today.

“Have you found them now?” he asks, wary.

“It doesn't matter now.”

They've been used to this for a while — spinning around on carousels of argument after argument, resolved with tears and clashing love languages. Before, there was always the reassurance of the sweet nights and soft words at the other end. Now, Ferai doesn't feel as safe. He tries to imagine the future, the crack of light in Nathan's eyes when he realises he wants to give them another chance — but all he sees is blankness.

A world where there is no Ferai and Nathan. A world where they somehow don't exist together.

“It matters to me,” he says, bold.

Nathan shoots him an exasperated glare — the kind they usually reserve for bad jokes. Then, Ferai would've met his eyes, and they would've burst out laughing. Now, Ferai directs his attention to the wooden floor, the space right next to Nathan's feet. He sees the wood warp, feels his vision blur, before he realises he's crying. The lines of the world he's grown to call his own begin to distort, and Ferai realises that his chest is being squeezed. The space inside is surely not enough to contain both his lungs and his heart.

Nathan's eyes narrow in an attempt to not tear up with Ferai.

“You can't even look at me,” he says, shaking his head.

Of its own accord, Ferai's head jerks up at the words.

“I'm still in love with you,” he says, words edging into desperation, “I'm never going to stop being in love. I'm never going to stop being sorry.”

Nathan exhales, frustrated, “Ferai, I can still smell his perfume off you. I don't remember what your love feels like. I don't remember the last time we had a conversation without tears.”

“That doesn't just make love go away.”

He realises, belatedly, that he was too loud. Too hysterical. Too broken. He can't find it in himself to care.

Somewhere, Nathan is speaking. Somewhere, Nathan is holding him again. Somewhere, Nathan is kissing him with sour mango lips.

“You slept with someone! Here, in our room! His hair is still on your coat! You don't do that to someone you love.”

“I wasn’t thinking!” Ferai responds, “I was trying to make it go away! You were gone, and everything was falling apart and he – he made it easy.”

“That was supposed to be my job.”

Nathan's voice cracks at the words, and for some twisted reason, Ferai finds himself soothed by it. Nathan still cares. They're both still in love.

“We were both failing at our jobs, Nathan.”

“Yet, I never even thought of bringing over the first stranger I could find.”

Ferai crumbles: “I'm sorry. I just – I want us to be okay. I will do anything for this to be okay again –”

Nathan's eyes flutter shut, but a teardrop sneaks out, slow.

“This isn't easy, Ferai, none of it is. Let's just go to bed for now, yeah?”

Ferai finds himself nodding, earnest, “Yeah. Sleep on it.”

Nathan purses his lips. Ferai stands, movements jarring, and stumbles towards their bedroom. It is only a few seconds later that he realises that the sound of his partner’s footsteps isn’t accompanying him. He turns, heart dropping.

Nathan gazes back at him, heart bleeding out onto the floor. Ferai knows that sometimes wounds can become too deep to fix.

“Won't you come to bed?” he asks, a rock in his throat. He already knows the answer.

Nathan smiles weakly.

“I think I’m just going to sleep on the sofa tonight,” he sighs.