33. hard to forget

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

HARD TO FORGET

—

Dmitri couldn't sleep.

Since the previous night, when Tariq had bolted out of his room and refused to even text him back, he had been a frenzied mess.

It had been so long since he had stayed up all night, he had almost gotten bad at it.

Still, it was okay. He was okay with staying up all night, so as long as the Bad Thoughts didn't plague him the entire time. Of course, he would have given anything to be able to just shut his eyes and go to sleep, but this was okay.

Thinking about Tariq was a good way to spend the night.

Sleep is a better way to spend the night.

For the fifth, or the fiftieth time that night, he opened up his messaging app on his phone, Tariq's contact sitting right at the top, the four messages that Dmitri had sent his way unopened.

dmitri -

i'm not sure if I did something, but if i did do something, i'm sorry

dmitri -

i'm really fucking confused though, please text me back whenever you can

dmitri -

are u okay?

dmitri -

i'm sorry

It had been four hours since the last message, four hours until sunrise.

While he understood why Tariq was scared immediately after kissing him, hell, he was fucking terrified too, he just didn't know what Tariq meant when he had said, 'My ex cheated on me.'

He didn't even know if the kiss was a spur of the moment thing, or if it was genuine.

To Dmitri, it was genuine. It was so much more than genuine, it was seeing all the colours in one night, one touch was enough to make him come undone in the best way possible.

Kissing Tariq was so real and so incredibly raw, and it was the most he had felt in a long time. It was the most safe he had felt in a long time.

Like things would be semi-okay even if his brain wasn't going to be okay, even if it would never be fully okay.

Tariq's touch was reassurance, his lips tasting like the thousands of stories that he told him to distract him when he was falling apart, be it through the phone or in his ears so that the people at work wouldn't hear the curse words left his mouth.

And Dmitri didn't know what he could do to feel those stories on his own lips again.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Dmitri breathed in a deep breath, exhaling only when he was sure that the tears wouldn't spill from his eyes, the ones that he had been holding in since last evening, because what did he do wrong? Did he even do anything wrong?

I should sleep. I should just sleep.

Exactly two minutes of trying to convince himself to go to sleep and failing, he got out of bed, walking all the way to the kitchen. If his mind couldn't convince his body to go to sleep, maybe a glass of water could.

As he filled up a glass of water for himself, the neighbours' voice that was echoing from their kitchen into his own keeping him company, he closed his eyes and stood there.

Stood there in the same position for a total of five seconds, until he heard a small laugh.

Holy shit. Holy fuck, oh my fucking—

Another laugh.

Eyes snapping open, he looked around the kitchen, the darkness doing nothing but causing his heart rate to pick up, almost to the point where he could barely hear his own breaths.

Then, someone said, "Dmitri, you look so fucking ridiculous right now, it's unreal."

Oh my fucking god. "Trinh," he hissed, making his way over to the couch where Trinh was seated, phone in one hand, coffee in the other. "Trinh, oh my fucking fuck. The fuck is the matter with you? Why the fuck aren't you in Eden's room?"

"That's a lot of fucks."

Heart still racing away, he took a seat next to Trinh and said, "What the fuck were you laughing for? Fuckin' Annabelle headass."

Trinh just shrugged, moving a little so that Dmitri could sit down, reaching up to tie their hair up into a tiny ponytail. "Got a call from— someone just called me, didn't want to wake Eden up. I would have gone to the balcony, but there's a pigeon there and it's ugly."

Instantly, Dmitri knew who they had been talking to.

The one person he wished would talk to him. Because it had been over twenty four hours now. Over twenty four hours since they had spoken to each other, and if it were anyone else, or even if it was Tariq in any other situation, he wouldn't have minded.

"Tariq?" he asked anyway, just to make sure. And when Trinh nodded with a yawn, he just continued, "I know that you two are best friends or whatever, and you can't tell me anything that he tells you. I don't want you to tell me either, that's his business and he can tell me if he wants to. But I just—"

Suddenly, the lump in his throat was ten times its original size, twenty times heavier, thirty times more painful.

"I don't want to cry over something as ridiculous as this," he muttered, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Fuck. I just don't know what I did, Trinh. Did I do something? Can you tell me that?"

A small frown appeared on Trinh's face. Honestly, it was slightly surprising that Dmitri could even see their face in the darkness, the orange streetlights outside the house the only light streaming into the living room.

Finally, they said, "I literally don't know what you're talking about."

Oh god.

Did Tariq not tell Trinh about their kiss? About everything that took place after that?

"Uh—"

"I'm just fucking with you, Dmitri," Trinh laughed out, taking a sip of their coffee. Or was that water? He couldn't be sure. Trinh is out of their fucking mind, Jesus. "My bad. I don't know what I can say or can't say to you, but—"

Dmitri just cut them off with a shake of his head and a soft, "Can you just tell me if Tariq's okay? I don't mind if you can't tell me anything else, it's just that he hasn't been replying to any of my messages, he hasn't said one fucking word since yesterday, and—" Pausing before he could cry again, he hunched over, groaning softly. "This is ridiculous. He's fine, right?"

Letting out a soft laugh, Trinh nodded. "Yes, Dmitri. He's fine," they assured gently, and almost at once, the weight on his chest lifted. Just slightly, but it was enough. Enough for him to breathe. "Are you fine?"

That was such a weighted question, and if Trinh had asked him that two weeks ago, he would have brushed them off with a quick, Yeah, and you?.

Today, however, he didn't know. He genuinely didn't know, because mentally, he was okay. His mental health was fine, for once.

Emotionally? That was a different story altogether.

So, all he said was, "I don't know, Trinh. Fuck, I don't know," breathing out a scared, borderline hysterical laugh. "This is so fucked. I kissed him, Trinh. He's your best friend, so you're probably going to go and tell him what I'm telling you, but—"

"Dmitri, I may be annoying as fuck, but I'm not a piece of shit," they interrupted, eyes twinkling in the night. "If you don't want me to tell him something, and as long as it doesn't hurt him, I won't tell him."

Okay. Okay, this is okay. "I genuinely— fuck, this is hard," he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut as if that would push the tears back in. All it did was push them forward, nearly pushing them out of his eyes. "Trinh, I like him. In the sense that I— I like him. I want to kiss him and sleep with him, and I want him to hold me and never let go, and I know that this is stupid but it's three in the morning and I probably won't remember this in the morning.

"I just don't know what I did. Or didn't do. I know that he doesn't like me in the way that I like him, and that's fine, as long as we don't go back to not talking to each other for weeks at a time, because I don't know if I can do that anymore. I don't care if what I'm feeling is unrequited, I just don't want to fuck anything up. I'm literally not even making sense right now, but—"

"You are," Trinh murmured in assurance, saying nothing else, waiting for Dmitri to continue.

And he did, by saying, "Trinh, I'm so fucked. Unrequited shit is the worst kind of pain. And it doesn't hurt now, but what if it doesn't go away? The pain? What if it just stays forever?"

Again, Trinh didn't say anything except for two words. "It won't," they promised, but he didn't want to hear it, mostly because it hurt too much, the pain hitting him all at once.

"You don't know that," he pointed out, the tears so close, so unbelievably close to slipping out of his eyes. "Trinh. You don't know that, I could just continue to like him forever, and I won't even fucking move forward, I don't know what—"

"Dmitri," Trinh voiced in a hushed tone. "You're crying."

It was always so funny to him how he could cry and never notice that he was doing it. But right now, it wasn't funny. Right now, it hurt.

"I'm scared," he whispered, wiping at his cheeks and sniffing, willing the tears to go back in and never come out again, because crying hurt. Everything hurt. "Tariq makes me feel good. I know that we had our own shit, but we're okay now. And I know that it's only been one day, but I know that he's ignoring me. If he continues to ignore me, I don't know what I'll do. I don't care if we stay as friends. I just want to forget everything that happened yesterday."

Trinh nodded, folding their unnaturally small legs up as they shot him a tiny smile. "I know. I know that we don't have a lot of one-on-one conversations, despite working in the same fucking place, but I love you, Dmitri. I can't say anything else, but what I can do is promise you that things will work out. I promise."

Promises weren't something that Dmitri trusted. At all.

Still, he said, "I don't know what to do. I'm literally so fucking confused. Should I be texting him? We kissed, Trinh. Am I supposed to pretend that it didn't happen? I don't want us to stop being friends. I'll take the unrequited— the unrequited thing, I just want us to keep being friends. I don't want to lose that."

Offering him a small smile, Trinh nodded and placed their hand on his knee, squeezing it gently. "It'll be fine, Dmitri," they reassured before yawning, covering their mouth with their hand. "Sorry," they mumbled and placed their head on Dmitri's shoulder, humming under their breath.

And even though he was exhausted and uncomfortable, he let them sleep on his shoulder.

Well, until his phone started ringing in his pocket.

It's three in the morning, what the fuck?

"You're so popular, getting calls at three in the morning 'n shit," Trinh uttered, stretching out on the couch when Dmitri stood up to answer the call.

For once in his life, he checked the caller ID. And immediately, he wished that he didn't.

They were just talking about Tariq, too.

"Dmitri?" Tariq's voice said through the phone, a perfect mix of tired, hesitant and rough. "Hey. Sorry it's so late."

"It's fine," was all Dmitri whispered in response, stepping out into the back porch, the pigeon that Trinh was talking about flying away as soon as he made his way out. "Hey. What's—"

A soft cough was heard from the other line, effectively shutting Dmitri up. "Fuck, it's freezing," Tariq muttered, coughing again, louder this time. "Just— just give me one second," he said, and the sound of the phone being set down was heard.

So, Dmitri just stayed on the line until Tariq came back.

Why is he calling? Fuck, I might cry. I don't want to cry. Not at—

"Sorry, I just needed to get a jacket," Tariq mumbled through a cough. "It's cold outside."

Dmitri frowned, sitting down on the porch and wrapping his arms around his own body, doing his best to keep it from shivering, because Tariq was right— it was cold outside.

If Dmitri was cold, he couldn't even begin to imagine just how cold Tariq was. He always got cold easily, something he blamed on his low iron, always saying, 'Even the hair all over my arms can't keep me warm.'

"Go back inside," Dmitri instructed when a sniff was heard from the other line. But that didn't sound like one of his I have a cold sniffs. That sounded like an I've been crying sniff. "You don't want to get sick."

Tariq let out a soft laugh at that, one that sent a strike of warmth in Dmitri's chest through the phone. It was scary, how easily Tariq could make him feel warm.

"I thought you said dick," Tariq clarified, another laugh leaving his mouth. "And I was going to tell you that I do, in fact, want to get dick."

Oh my fucking god. "You're vile," Dmitri muttered, biting back his smile because Tariq always said that he could hear it when Dmitri smiled. "Just— go inside. Please. I don't want you to get sick, even though you already sound slightly sick."

Clearing his throat, Tariq hummed into the phone, and some ruffling was heard along with a soft, "Mmph."

Good. "Are you in bed?"

"Yeah."

What now?

After a moment of silence, two moments of silence, Dmitri decided that he couldn't take it anymore. That he had to say what he wanted to say.

But it seemed like Tariq had other plans when he blurted out a weak, "I'm sorry."

Typically, Dmitri would have been proud of Tariq for apologising, since he was never really good at that. Now, however, he wasn't proud. Now, it just hurt. Tariq didn't have anything to apologise for. Nothing.

So, he whispered, "For what?"

Again, there was silence. So prolonged to the point where Dmitri was about to speak again, assuming that Tariq hadn't heard him.

"Hey. What are you—"

As always, he was cut off by Tariq.

This time, he wasn't cut off by Tariq speaking though. He was cut off by such a soft, such a weak sob through the phone, one that ripped a hole right through Dmitri's chest.

"Tariq?" he murmured, repeating it with an even softer, "Hey, it's okay. I don't know what you're apologising for, but—"

"I shouldn't have kissed you," Tariq finally said, inhaling shakily immediately after. "I'm so sorry. Did I even ask you before I did it? I'm literally so fucking shit at relationships, I'm— I don't even—"

What the fuck? "Tariq," Dmitri said again, his name honey on his tongue. He didn't know that honey could taste poisonous. "Ri. I don't know from where you got the idea that it wasn't consensual. I promise you, if I didn't want it, I wouldn't have kissed you back. You know that. I don't know if you were fucking around when you kissed me, or if you were serious, but what I do know is that you and I both agreed to do that. Where did you get the idea that it wasn't consensual from?"

Tariq sniffed softly, a shaky laugh leaving his mouth. "I don't know. I overthink everything that has to do with a— with whatever that was. Relationships, kissing, anything. Your ex cheating on you does that to you, I guess," he scoffed, the faint sound of water going down his throat filling the brief silence.

It never got easier to hear about the fact that Tariq was cheated on.

Dmitri knew that he was making it out to be a smaller deal than it actually was, constantly joking about it to hide everything else that he was feeling. That was what he always did. That was what everyone did.

Now, somehow, he was being real with Dmitri. He wasn't joking about it. And Dmitri didn't know what he did that was different from the rest of the people he joked around with, but he appreciated it.

An honest Tariq was something that he could definitely get used to.

"I literally— it's like I took ten steps forward when I was with you, and I was okay. I could be with you without constantly doubting whether or not I'm doing the relationship thing correctly." Laughing softly, Tariq breathed out a deep sigh. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I doubted a lot of things during our relationship, and I was scared of a lot of things. But whether or not I was a good boyfriend wasn't one of them.

"Then, I got cheated on and now, I can't even fucking kiss someone without thinking I'm doing it wrong. I can't be a sex worker, something that I genuinely enjoy doing, without feeling like I'm betraying you." Releasing a bitter scoff, Tariq continued, "I don't know why it's you. It's always you. I don't know why, but you're on my mind so often, it hurts. Everything I do, you're there."

Tariq always spilled too much when he was tired.

The only other time he had done this was when he had gotten drunk that one day, that day that felt like forever ago.

This time, he wasn't drunk. Meaning that he would remember this.

"I'm sorry," Dmitri said, he didn't really know what to say, until Tariq groaned into the phone, his blatant anguish spilling out of that single sound.

"Tri— sorry, Dmitri," he began, voice pinched, and Dmitri could almost see his eyebrows, and how they were drawn in together at that moment. "It's not— it's— God, I can't cry even more," he whispered, but the crack in his utterance was enough to let Dmitri know that he had already started.

A soft whimper and a loud, "I can't believe I kissed you," later, Tariq was quiet.

Completely quiet.

Usually, Dmitri welcomed the silence. Now, he despised it.

"We're friends," Dmitri said, for once, the voice of reason. Tariq doesn't like you. He regrets the kiss. He regrets it. Leave it be. "We're friends, and there's nothing else to it. I don't know why I kissed you, and I'm sorry for that, but—"

"Dmitri, you're killing me right now," Tariq groaned. "It wasn't your fault. The way your brain works makes me so angry sometimes, but then I realise that you genuinely can't help but blame yourself for everything. But I want you to know that it's not your fault. I just—" Then, he paused, drawing in a breath. "Did you— God, Dmitri, I can't stop crying."

At that exact moment, Dmitri wanted nothing more than to go to Tariq's house and hold him. Just be with him.

"I don't know why you're crying, Tariq, if I knew—"

"When I kissed you, did you feel anything?"

Dmitri froze. His fingers were already frozen from the cold, too cold for a night in May, it was only natural the rest of him would freeze too.

He froze, and he nearly dropped his phone, and he didn't know how to answer that question.

He didn't know what answer Tariq wanted.

So, all he said was, "I don't know."

Easily one of the biggest lies he had ever told, because he had felt everything when Tariq had kissed him, when he had kissed Tariq, when Tariq had put his hands on his neck, when he had put his hands on Tariq's neck, when Tariq had pushed their bodies together, when he had pushed his tongue into Tariq's mouth.

He had felt everything, and everything was the best feeling to exist.

"Okay," Tariq murmured. "That's fine. We can— fuck, I'm still crying, today's been emotional as fuck, sorry. I feel like I might fall sick soon, and— and I didn't see you all day at work, that fucked me up a little, I think," he admitted, taking another sip of his water. "Anyway, it's—"

"Do you want to hang out tomorrow? Go somewhere in the evening?"

The words had left his mouth before he could even think. Though that was a common ooccurrence— him speaking before thinking.

"Uh—" Tariq began, and Dmitri's heart just about plummeted, all the way down to his feet.

"You can say no, I honestly don't mind, it's—"

Tariq laughed softly, genuinely. "No, it's just that I promised Zoya that I would spend some time with her. She got a job transfer, she's moving out of state soon."

Oh. "Right, of course, sorry, that was—"

"Dmitri," Tariq interrupted with another laugh, and fuck, if it wasn't the best thing that Dmitri had heard all night. "How does Thursday sound? You can come over, we can go somewhere after that. Is that cool?"

Dmitri nodded. Not a date. "Yeah," he breathed out. "That's cool."

"Cool." He could practically hear Tariq's smile through the phone. It was almost as pretty as hearing his laugh. "It's a date."

And at once, he cut the call.

Not a date. Not a date, not a date, not a date, he chanted in his head, over and over, and even when he went back to his room, that was the only thing he told himself before falling asleep.

It's not a date. It's not a date. It's not a date.

—

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AN: okay so from today, there will be daily updates until the 31st, so if i can't get everyone's comments, i'm sorry !!! just know that i appreciate it a lot <3

thank u all for reading💓💓 have a good day everyone!!💞