dennis was running the pad of his thumb over and over his palm. then over his wrist, feeling the unsteady thump thump thump flourishing under the digit. he was sitting like a coiled wire ready to burst. it’s a sisyphean effort to hold his tears back. he’s staring at the floor all wide eyed, so glassy and pathetic and so small. voices filtering in and out like crashing waves, like a calm before a storm. he’s not really looking at anything, not sure he’s really breathing, not sure he’s really here.
the stones in him have multiplied something awful. pinning him down to his seat. the party is happening all around him yet he is none the wiser. small whispers in his head beg him to tune back in, to make sure the topic of conversation isn’t him. they’ve never said anything to his face, but it feels like he has dissolved into the couch and there’s nothing on the surface.
nobody really says anything. they don’t speak to him, just at him. like whatever bone they throw he’ll catch it like a desperate dog. and he feels like one. he’s begging for someone to catch his eye and softly tell him that the last 10 minutes weren’t real. just some ugly manifestation of his deep insecurity. but dennis is rarely that lucky.
the air blowing at him in trinitys car isn’t really enough to wake up from this nightmare. she’s babbling on about whatever the girls were talking about at the party, but dennis can’t help but stare at her phone. he knows nothing will pop up, it’s useless to look. every chat was muted. it was purposeful.
but he can’t look away from the crash. it’s as if the more he stares the more he can see through it, and see the truth.
he’s not sure trinity really notices, not sure she notices anything about him at all.
when they arrive at the apartment dennis is all mechanical. automatic muscle memory is the only thing keeping him from falling apart. he will go through the motions, he will do all the right things. but nothing will ever feel right again.
he sees the apartment in a different light, in all the wrong ways. the lights are weird, he never noticed how dark his hallway was. never noticed how still it was too, seemingly it used to breathe with him and now it’s just settled like a dead weight. suddenly he doesn’t really recognize it, one long maze with dizzying twists and turn ever changing to add to the confusion. it’s all fuzzy like in those hazy margins between sleeping and wakefulness, where you’re not sure where you stand. not sure how to.
he’s gripping his arm tightly like some type of beacon, the only thing tethering him from just slipping into that haze. he doesn’t know just yet what type of hell he wants to give in to.
dennis walks to his room, trinity says something at him but he doesn’t really catch it. all muddy with every other thing going on in his brain.
he shuts the door so gently, as if being quiet enough means he doesn’t disturb the silence that has enveloped the place. it’s nauseating, like sways on a boat. he’s on high alert now. not sure where to plant his feet. one wrong move can send him out, trinity can barely stand him as is.
suddenly he’s scared. scared that the door will open, almost blowing right through the hinges. that trinity will come barreling straight through yelling something terrible, throwing bags at his face and telling him to pack his shit and get the fuck out.
(he’s played this scene before in his head, funnily enough. everything is temporary. unfortunately he thought there would finally be an exception)
he can’t fathom that though. where would he go? who would he call? after knowing what it’s like to have it all, could he go without? could he stomach it once more?
his belly twists into knots. nothing to help the aches. the only thing he can do is pray to get through the night.
and he does, thought he doesn’t know if he’s grateful.
dennis goes through the motions of getting ready for work, bleary eyed and unaware. he takes a cold shower either to wake him up or to save trinity the hot water, he doesn’t know. unfortunately it’s left him with this chill running under his skin like fireworks. he wants to put it out.
he takes the bus instead, leaving earlier to catch it. doesn’t want to be more of a burden.
arriving at the hospital is…hard. dozens of eyes staring at him as if nothing is wrong. every one is going about as if his world wasn’t absolutely shattered. his world has stopped spinning but everyone else keeps moving. his eyes glaze over everything, never stopping enough to focus on anything in particular. there’s this quiet buzzing in his ears like flies in a summer night. he would kill to go to sleep and wake up from this nightmare.
a soft hand lands on his shoulder. “you okay whitaker?” a voice says, he doesn’t pay much mind to its owner. he simply nods and shrugs the hand off. he doesn’t feel like talking, doesn’t know what will come out.
it seems that everyone has caught onto his mood. most of the girls are looking at him with confusion and some vague pity. like he’s a wounded puppy.
trinity keeps looking at him all alien. she doesn’t even ask, but her stares burn right through him.
he makes it through a rather uneventful shift, surprisingly.
but just his luck, trinity manages to corner him before he can catch the bus again.
“trying to escape for the bus again?” she asks, crossing her arms. “why’d you leave this morning before me? we always go together.”
and the word together just lands all wrong in dennis’ head. there is no together, no them, no nothing. and a spark of anger flares up inside dennis. he doesn’t know what game she’s playing, but he does he knows the truth.
and he can’t help himself, “why do you care?”. he tries for it to bite, to dig teeth in trinity. but it comes out all wounded.
she scoffs. she scoffs. “what’s that supposed to mean? am i not allowed to care? to worry? you’ve been looking all sad and mopey today-no, since last night!”
dennis stares at her for a moment. trying to see if he can notice any change in her eyes. all these months, he thought he knew her. did he not? or did she change?
trinity takes a step forward. “dennis come on, talk to me.” she says placatingly, like towards a child. and it stings.
“i think you guys have done enough talking.” he mutters, looking off to the side. he’s fighting the tears, just like he did during his lunch break in the bathroom. too ashamed to sit with anyone in the break room.
“huh?”, trinity says. “what? what are you talking about?”
a beat passes, dennis opens and closes his mouth. “i saw it.”
trinity furrows her brows. “saw what?” she asks impatiently.
“your phone.” he grips his arms, preparing a shield. “the texts. the groups. the photos. everything, trinity. i saw everything.” his voice breaks, just like his heart. he feels like someone took a scalpel and cut sternum to belly button. it hurts, but mostly he feels exposed and vulnerable and ugly. it’s horrifying.
trinity stares at him wide eyed. “i-dennis it’s not- it’s not what you-”
“what i think?, no. it’s exactly what i know it is.” he swallows around the stone in his throat. “i’m sorry for…for everything i guess. i’m sorry for thinking that there was more to what we had. and with everyone else. i never-” he lets out a shaky breath, “i never meant to annoy anyone. i thought…you guys liked having me around. if i knew sooner i wouldn’t have…stuck around. i guess. i’m sorry.” dennis starts turning away.
a hand shoots out towards his wrist. “wait dennis-”
“i’ll move out. don’t worry about it. i’ll be out of your hair soon.” he tries to finish it off a smile but it’s tearing him apart.
“what are you guys still doing here?” a new voice chimed in, and with it came abbot and robby. starting off humorous until they feel the tension in the space. they notice dennis body turned away, trinity’s hand wrapped around his wrist. dennis follows their line of vision and snaps his arm back.
“leaving.” he walks off. no one follows
dennis makes it out of the hospital. he’s looking around at the vast sky, stars sprinkled around. he doesn’t know what to ask it, doesn’t know if he will get an answer. all he can think of now is ‘where do i go?’
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