Condensation -chap11-

It was like really wanting a film to end so that you could know what happened – and then being given the end straight out before you reached it, leaving you with nothing but confusion and stress as to how it was supposed to get there, and if it was worth watching anymore.

In short, Ike hadn't turned up.

Part of him was angry, he knew that much. Everything he had tried to plan for, to tell Ike to go away so spectacularly that the super-confident flirt became solemn and respectful under his glare…and Ike wasn't here. It was the goal he was aiming for, but it had deprived him of the confrontation. And now he couldn't stop wondering whether Ike would be coming back, whilst he really ought to be enjoying the peace of his absence. He was relieved and confused and… he didn't even know anymore.

He swivelled around a little in his chair, biting the end of his pen. There had been no contact from Pit since the previous evening, and he didn't know what to make of that either. It certainly didn't make him feel any better. The one he wanted to blame for the disruption wasn't here, and he could feel the guilt settling progressively over himself instead like an itchy blanket.

More work. Force the time to pass.

It wasn't like he'd been stood up or anything.

Why was the time passing so slowly?

Trying to focus on the email he was meant to be composing was close to impossible. The conversation he'd had at lunch hadn't helped. He'd been walking down the corridor to get himself a drink from the vending machine when a he'd caught a glimpse of a familiar face. Their eyes met just as he'd been about to take his drink and he found himself slow to look away, unspoken questions burning on his lips.

"Yes?" the other man accused. Marth almost turned and walked away right then. But he forced himself to be brave.

"You're Soren, right?" he ventured timidly. "I saw you the other day, as I was…"

"Passing by in the window cleaning box with Ike, I know," Soren finished for him emotionlessly. Marth swallowed, something about the way the man was looking at him and the quality of the silence telling him that he knew, or suspected, his 'relationship' with Ike. There was no point trying to make small talk.

"Are you, er…" Marth hesitated. "What is it like to be friends with him?" he rushed at last.

Soren gave him a cryptic look, far less friendly now that Ike wasn't there with them.  "You'll never know," he said softly.

A sudden fury rose inside Marth, and something akin to a panic. "How can you say that?"

"He'll know if you fancy him, Marth. Don't think you can hide it," Soren warned gently. And then without another word he was gone, leaving Marth fuming and disconcerted.

Come on Marth, this email isn't going to write itself. What did Soren mean though – 'You'll never know'? How dare he be so presumptuous! He could know, eas – no! No! He never wanted to see Ike again! He leant forwards over the desk and buried his head in his hands.


Work ended at length and Marth headed home, a nervous feeling in his stomach. He opened the front door and closed it softly behind him. Silence. He cast about for any signs of Pit, but there were no notes…anywhere. Well that was unusual. A guilty feeling twisted in his stomach. He checked the phone. There was one message.

"Hey Marth, it's Pit. Hope you've had a great day. Have a nice evening – I'll see you on Saturday for 'Legally Blonde' – don't forget!"

There was a dull tone and no further messages. Marth wondered what it meant – was he not going to hear from Pit until Saturday then? With mixed feelings he sat on the sofa, wondering what to do now. Normally he'd feel obliged to get changed and ready for Pit to come around later and then they would pass the rest of the evening together, but now the time opened up in front of him like a crevasse. He turned on the radio but it didn't help. Restless, he stood and grabbed his coat, heading out to go to the supermarket.


The hubbub here was easier to deal with than the silence at home. He browsed through the shelves, glad of the distraction – half-fearing, half-hoping that he would bump into someone he knew. He turned down into the shampoo isle. Normally he would pick one of the softer, more feminine products, but as he reached for his usual brand Soren's voice rang in his head: You'll never know. What had he been implying? Did he see Marth as too feminine for a guy like Ike? He turned, subconsciously reaching for one of the stereotypically male products instead. The coarse branding was unappealing, but he opened the top a little and had a sniff out of curiosity. It was a familiar smell. A blurred image came into his mind – smooth skin, soft cotton, a musky closeness… Too late, his mind put it together. Oh god…he knew what Ike smelt like… He turned and walked quickly out of the isle, no longer caring for any shopping at all. Out of a sense of obligation he bought a few basic items and then hurried home.


Once more alone at home Marth made himself a cup of tea and paced aimlessly around the lounge and kitchen, wishing the time past. He wondered what Pit was doing at that moment. He wondered what Ike was doing at that moment. Perhaps they would be alone and bored right now, as he was, but he doubted it. Before Pit he had had plenty of friends, their names now a dull list in his address book. Pit had easily monopolised his time from the moment they had met – Marth hadn't minded, then, but now he noticed that none of his other friends texted him, or called him as they used to. He'd faded out of their lives just as Pit had blazed into his.

They had met in a bar one evening, one of the few evenings that Marth had ever been to a bar. He wasn't one for drinking, but at that time it had only been a month since he had split from his previous boyfriend Link, and he was feeling low. He didn't really know what he had been looking for, only knew that he felt rejected and unattractive. He had just wanted to feel wanted again, perhaps – if he could admit it to himself – even if it just meant a fumble in the dark, hushed and hot and meaningless. The last thing he had expected was to meet Pit, who was all light and positivity and bubbling enthusiasm and just kept complimenting him, as if he'd just spotted a jewel on the beach and couldn't take his eyes off it. And Pit hadn't stopped. He'd offered to take Marth home but they hadn't done anything, just sat and chatted and drunk tea. He couldn't tell if Pit was naïve or just over-optimistic about life in general but it made him feel good to be around Pit, in a warm fuzzy way he hadn't had for a while. They had met again, and then again. Pit had been so attentive to him, so loving, a never ending flow of support that needed no prompting or return. Being with Pit made Marth feel positively buoyant. Pit had been so unexpected, so unusual, like a bright piece of candy that would never stop being sweet. Marth had loved it…until he got toothache. Now he wondered why Pit always managed to be so upbeat, why his attentions hadn't lessened over time.  Marth couldn't even understand his own opinion – surely those were things he should celebrate? When other boyfriends might gradually have become less attentive and begun to take him for granted, Pit never would. He should be glad.

But he wasn't, that was the truth of it. Marth slumped back across the sofa, pondering this. The cushions compressed softly beneath him. Soft, but not solid. They couldn't embrace him. They had no strength, no words. In short, the sofa did nothing for his sudden sense of loneliness. He hugged himself, half wondering if he should –

What was he thinking?

His mind obviously had no sense of appropriate timing. Sitting up properly he put his head in his hands. He needed to confront Ike before it drove him insane. If he could just confront him perhaps some of this stupid tension would leave him alone, and he could try and repair his relationship with Pit.

He got up from the sofa and headed into the kitchen to make himself another cup of tea. Mug in hand he was halfway back to the sofa again when his foot caught on something invisible in the carpet. He tripped, landing awkwardly, the hot liquid spilling all over the top of his left thigh.

"Shit!"

He swatted himself uselessly as he felt the heat seep in through his jeans, quickly increasing to a painful scalding sensation. He struggled with his jeans, quickly unzipping them and sliding them off, his skin twitching in pain.

"Shit…"

There was already a large patch of red skin on his thigh and it stung painfully.  He began to rub it with his hands, trying to dissipate some of the searing heat. His hands chafed against the sensitive skin, making his nerve endings twitch. For a few more seconds he continued to wipe the hot sensation frantically away from his skin as it cooled with a stinging sensation, alarmed by how high the heat had managed to spread. He continued to rub his hands over the skin, trying to smooth over the hot-now-cold sensation that made his skin feel exposed and vulnerable.

And why, why, did he have to think of Ike right now?