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Written by Nickin Alexander
Concept by Patricia Tamayo

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Magic started to die when technology stomped in.

Magic became hard…it became the artwork that no one was bothered to learn, the stain that was once a delicious meal… technology was easier.

You didn’t need to make an incantation or study ruins or spells or channel any energy. You could press a button, watch a screen and talk over long distances without moving a muscle….and so, Slowly, old Mages struggled to find students.

Most kids deciding that they’d rather make money or learn something constructive over a lost artwork that no one gave a shit about.

Magic died out….and with it, so did Demons. Exceptionally tall humanoid creatures from a parallel world that took the shape of different animals around Earth. All with specific jobs that they studied for ….Doctors, Lawyers, Accountants….just like us.

But with one difference.

They were experts in and born in Magic.

And because of that…their existence in our world started to dwindle as well.

Which begged the question.

Why the fuck was there one standing next to Charlie’s Grandmother, in their kitchen… on a Sunday evening.

Charlie was still in his work clothes… This weekend, like last weekend, the weekend before that…and like many more weekends in the past, was a weekend of work.

He had spent this Sunday dragging his own arse to the office for some overtime.

Charlie had swapped church with his Ammachi for eating lunch from a Tupperware container, by himself, in an empty office.

His absence in the house meant she would barely see him. He even noticed a change in everything she did…she looked more tired and drained, like seeing him tired had made her tired as well.

Maybe his stress was rubbing off on her…which he understood.

She’d barely got a word out of him most mornings, as he whisked a banana away for breakfast. And she would barely catch him later that night as he scoffed whatever dinner was left on the table.

SO naturally he could understand why she’d feel lonely…

But lonely enough to read some old incantation and bring this Humanoid Dog looking thing into their home?

That seemed excessive.

“Look dude, can you just explain why you’re here,”

A forgotten question that seemed so obvious as he walked in through that dimly lit hall, and laid eyes on the tall brown-haired, yellow-eyed, creature that stood a foot and half taller than his grandmother in their ageing yet cozy kitchen.

Charlie had expected his Ammachi’s laughs to be because an aunt or family friend stopped by. Not a tall Dog-Demon blabbering in their native tongue of Malayalam, helping her cook omelettes.

He spent the first 10 seconds in shock as he watched them talk endlessly. His Ammachi hitting the Demon’s shoulder as he joked and carried on. The Demon chopping onions and chilli, chatting back in a language most people didn’t know existed.

It was unnerving, to say the least.

It wasn’t until his presence couldn’t be ignored for any longer did they notice him. His Ammachi casually patted the shoulder of her new friend, teasingly saying that she got tired of being alone and decided to summon some company. A sly dig at her tired and tempered Grandson.

Charlie knew it was all bullshit…Demons were only summoned for a real purpose…not to be a fucking Penn Pal.

“Right right…sorry ….,” Its expression changed from a smile to a slight shade of nervousness….It must’ve noticed Charlie’s steely eyes throwing deadly daggers.

“…Charles was it? Can I call you Chuck? ….maybe you wanna take a seat”

His voice was silky and smooth…like a James Bond Villain.

Charlie exhaled …his eyes refused to break from those bright, yellow pupils… no one ever called him Chuck.

Only Charlie and Charles.

It ignored his leer and decided to start talking again.

“So…ah maybe I should introduce myself….my name is Maximus…you can call me Max if you want..”

“Max?” Charles replied with a sneer, chuckling slightly as Max stared back at him with question.

“What? ….oh…yes,” he started. “I do realise I am a humanoid dog with the name Max…yes very funny… very fitting…”

“Very much so…” Charlie muttered

“Well yes…ah…,” he stopped as Ammachi chuckled, turning back to the bowl of eggs she was cracking.

“Well…your Grandmother…she thought both of you could use the company, and… well…she was worried about you…”

Charlie raised an eyebrow, he assumed that it was the same old bullshit that everyone else had thrown his way.

His grandfather had passed away the previous year. And instead of crying…Charlie threw himself into his work.

That bothered some but it was perfect for him.

He’d spend less time in sorrow and more time making money.

What was the big deal anyway?

The way he saw it, it was a great way to cope…

A great way to take his mind off things…

And he didn’t need to grieve like before…His Appachen was a good man. He’d helped Charlie get through a lot of things…his first breakup, the anxiety of University….the death of his father….

“Anyway,” he cut off Charlies train of thought.

“Where I’m from Chuck, much like where you’re from,” he said motioning to air around him. “Us Demons study for specific jobs…and I, believe it or not, studied to become a counsellor…”

“A what…,” Charlie knew the basics, he had learnt early on that Demons were knowledgable and skilled at what they did, partly because they studied their respective fields for a long time….Demons had much longer lifespans than humans.

But they often became doctors, lawyers and artists…not shit like Counsellors.

“Yes, I did my work in Psychology and Psychiatry…ya know… helping people,” he said nonchalantly.

“Yea but that doesn’t explain…” started Charlie

“Yes,” he said calmly.

For what it was worth…Maximus was holding it together for someone who had to deal with Charlies attitude.

Charlie took a moment. He was being rude. And you couldn’t blame him. But a twinge of guilt stung his insides. If anything, he was to blame…he had forced his Ammachi into a pit of loneliness that resulted in her seemingly needing a Demon Counsellor to talk to her own Grandson.

He exhaled and looked off and out the kitchen window. He could see the soft glow of the moon in its upper corner…it was a cooler summer night, something that was a rarity in this part of the world.

“Would you like to go outside?…maybe get some fresh air?” His snout moved slightly as he dug his eyes into Charlies.

Before he could answer, Max had started ushering him towards the door.

Charlie hadn’t realised how truly tall he was…easily 6ft 3 or 4…quite lean and fit as well, he could see the chest muscle ripple slightly underneath his white buttoned shirt.

“After you…” Max said, waving an arm.

It took him a moment to comprehend what was happening. This Thing was trying to take control… Charlie looked him up and down.

A swift sting of annoyance cast his guilt aside. Maybe this was the time to grab him by the cuff and swing his arse out onto he curb…

But what would that mean?

Old lessons from introductory Mage class started to slurp back into memory. Demons were notoriously stubborn. They always latched themselves, whether wanted or not, to their Summoner. For now it looked like Charlie had to humour this “Counsellor”.

“Just go,” The soft words of his Ammachi’s voice broke the tense silence. “He’s been here since morning…and he doesn’t bite…”

Charlie swung his head to the back of his Grandmother. She was slowly cutting up onions and scraping the remains of a green chilli to one side of a cutting board. He tensed his jaw and turned back to the Demon to his side.

“…thank you Sheela-amma,”

Charlie raised his eyebrows. Not many people used His grandmother’s first name and even more so, it shocked him that this was all still in their mother tongue.

Malayalam speakers were very rare…and it made Charlie that much more suspicious.

Charlie started towards their fly screen door, clicking it open but eyeing him closely…Max returned his leer with a smile and a wink.

He stepped out into the night air and into their pergola.

He heard the footsteps of the Demon behind him, he seemed to float in a polite manner, passing Charlie’s shoulder out and onto the grassy backyard.

Charlie watched as Max’s great big head floated in the darkness, finally turning his devilish eyes to the clear night sky overhead.

Without thinking much, Charlie walked beside him and stared at the sky himself.

The stars were blinking in and out of focus as the moon at full strength glowed like a perfect pebble in a sea of night.

Charlie exhaled as he tried to compute what was happening…..there was a freaken Demon in his house…that his Ammachi somehow summoned…for him.

Barely 15 minutes before hand, he was in his car trying to figure out his plan for another early work day, and now he had to have a late night dealing with this.

A headache for anyone, but especially Charlie, who would have to deal with the mammoth task of attending to clients on very little sleep.

Now he’d be tired ….and on top of being in a shitty mood at work, he’d have a Demon to worry about back home as well.

“Why an omelette…,” the smooth voice coated the air and broke Charlies thought.

Charlie turned to where he thought Max was…he wasn’t there anymore. He swivelled around and to his annoyance, The Dog-Demon was now sitting quite comfortably on an old lawn chair.

He must’ve given away his frustration. Everything was happening way to quickly, and Charlie clearly didn’t want to waste time with useless details.

“…sorry…it’s just she insisted on making one for you…and insisted I had one too,”

“…making them distresses her….my dad and my mum loved her omelettes,” Charlie said immediately, turning back towards the night sky.

He figured that if this Thing was what he said he was, then opening up a little, meant he’d go away quicker.

“They met at a cafe, and when my mum returned a bad omelette she ordered, my dad overheard and bragged that my grandmother made the best ones…she called him out on it…so he got her number and invited her over…he was proven right and they started dating soon after…”

It was a tale that his family recited all the time. His grandfather liked to tell him every other morning that his one prize in life was having an Omelette so good that it gave him a daughter-in-law…his grandma bragged that an Omelette gave her a grandson.

“Oh …thats actually quite sweet.” He said. “Your grandmother mentioned your parents…that….”

“That they’re dead.”

The words hung in the air for a moment. The night sky seemed to take it in as well…everything got a little bit duller.

The stars flickered out of light…the moon seemed to loose a shade in its brightness.

They all looked sad. But it wasn’t a reflection of Charlie’s face…his steely eyes and stern expression mirrored that of what he always did.

He had finished being sad about being parentless a long time ago.

“..ah yes… and I am sorry to hear about that Chuck…really, I am,”

The Demon seemed to be being honest. He could hear it in his voice.

Charlie lowered his gaze from the sky and turned back to Max.

“So why are you here then,”

Max shifted his big head slightly, readjusting himself slightly in the old lawnchair.

“Your grandmother is the one that summoned me…but by accident,” he said immediately

Charlie squinted. An accident?

There was silence.

Then the sound of a pan sizzling…Charlie looked over to the open kitchen window…he could see the shadow of Ammachi busying over the stove. She was probably cooking the onions and chillies…probably about to add some turmeric soon….

“ Do you think…that maybe it was for you Charlie?,” he continued

Charlie, turned back to the Demon. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out.

Demons were summoned based on not just words but innate desires as well. It was a combination of the two that called for a Demon to stop what they were doing, and appear in a puff of smoke. Or that’s how it was described to Charlie.

“…maybe she felt like you needed me now more than ever, I heard the last of the incantation….it seemed to be for strength, courage and some sort of protection for her family…,” Max said.

Charlie knew what incantation he was talking about. It was an old enchantment that called for an old magic…something that was lost long before Demons even existed in their world…

“My grandfather used to say it…even before I was born…it’s been in my family for ages…I think we had a Mage in our family way back when…”

“Oh..okay..”

“Which means it was said the day my Mum died,” he continued. “…and it was said the night my Dad was buried, 10 years ago,” the words stiffly strung from Charlie’s mouth.

He didn’t have time for this.

“Hmm…..”

A moment passed and Charlie returned his gaze back out into the sky. His head started to feel heavy as he kept trying to fathom everything.

Max broke the silence again.

“…can I ask you something then…,”

Charlie hummed in agreement.

“Why do you think I’m here?”

Charlie thought for a moment. He took in the question as much as could…but the only words that he could possibly think of splurged out before anything else came to mind.

“Fucked if I know, Maximus, ‘’ he continued. “But to be honest we DON’T need you…my Grandma and I were fine before. We’re both fine now and we’ll be fine tomorrow as well…”

“I’m guessing you’se are close…,”

A surge of memories cascaded into his mind. Despite his lack of presence around the house in recent times…it was his Amamchi that always watched from afar.

Charlie snorted.

“Yea I guess you could say that… I mean she was the one that raised me when Mum got sick,”

The image of his mother, tired and drained on the day she got diagnosed, comforted by his Dad as a look of shock and sadness plastered itself on her face…his Ammachi holding his hand, squeezing it tight as he looked on.

“…she kept me company while Dad and Grandad went to the hospital, and when she died…. my Grandma was the one who walked me to school all by herself,”

An image of a huddled up, umbrella clad, wet elderly Indian woman who barely spoke english, walking home in the rain, painted itself in Charlie’s mind.

“She took me to the park and pushed me on the swings when no other kid would play with me….she cooked me food and made sure I did my homework…she tried to buy gifts for me on my birthday even though she didn’t understand what I liked….she fed and kept our dog Rambo company when I was away…she made sure my dad paid attention to me…and when he died, she cried for about 10 minutes in my Grandad’s arms before coming to comfort me….because I was 14 and a sobbing mess….,”

The last words stung his insides…

“she buried her only son and only got to cry for 10 minutes….all because of me,”

The words split from Charlie’s mouth. All his life he wanted to make sure she was ok. Appachen instilled the same work ethic that had plagued his own Dad. One that meant that there was no time to really grieve….it was all about getting back up and dealing with it.

So Charlie came to terms with his dad dying ages ago.

And by the time of His Grandfather’s death…he didn’t cry…because by then, he was used to it.

But his Ammachi?

She was the reason why he worked such long hours…why he dealt with horrible customers, why he took shit from his boss, why he saved and saved and saved.

So she didn’t have to worry about him. Because she had worried enough.

She had lost everyone.

Charlie had lost a mother and father and a grandfather….but She had also lost a Daughter, Son and Husband.

And was stuck with him.

So who gives a shit that he wasn’t around much…he couldn’t risk any time that he had.

He needed to work and prove and make sure that they were going to be ok. SO she didn’t have to worry about anything. So she could make omelettes not because she had to distress…but because they could sit down on a Saturday morning or a Sunday arfternoon after church, and actually enjoy it.

Charlie’s breath was now heavy, it took him a moment to realise he was softly panting….he could feel a surge of emotion in his chest.

He shook back into focus, sniffing slightly …he could feel his eyes water.

Why was Charlie pouring all these emotions out…why to this Creature, was everything spilling from his lips.

A hot itchy ball of anger started to form again….he wanted It to go away….he wanted to just go to sleep.

Charlie turned back around, looking Maximus dead into his bright yellow eyes.

Hellish but somehow still straddled with concern, he opened his mouth to speak…

“Chuck….,”

“What dude,” Charlie said immediately.

“..Chuck…I think you should know why I’m here…”

Charlie eyed him…

“You said it was by accident,”

“…ah yes at first…” Max said. “Your grandmother might not have known what she was doing…but she did summon me…but not for herself….”

Charlie huffed.

“I told you dude, I’m ok and even if I wasn’t…eventually, just like it always has been, WE’ll be fine.,”

Almost immediately, Max’s face bowed down. He took a moment before inhaling…there was a look of real sadness that had emerged in his face…his brows had furrowed in concern over his bright yellow eyes.

“….a Summoner summons a Demon for their sincerest desires…for some its out of vanity, for others its for profit…but on the rare occasion, it’s out of love,”

Charlie scoffed slightly. Ammachi didn’t need to summon a Demon to show him her love…she’d done enough for 2 or 3 lifetimes.

“Sometimes that love is for themselves…and other times, like now, it’s for someone else,” The concerned look on Max’s face now formed into a sorrowful gaze as he looked out and passed Charlie.

“…especially when that person may not be able to show that love anymore….”

The last couple of words took a while to sink in….

“What do you mea…..”

A sudden stab of anxiety struck Charlie’s stomach…his insides lurched and a dry wave leached up into his throat and his mouth. His lips hung open as he felt his face give way.

Was he being serious?

No way.

How could he know?

AS if reading his mind, Max spoke.

“….She told me … after she summoned me…me of all Demons…one that could speak her language…maybe it was luck or fate or whatever you want to call it,” his voice trailed off.

Max looked back at the window to the kitchen. Charlie followed his gaze to the warm light shining off her white hair. Was this why she looked more drained…more tired…

He could feel all energy leave him…he could hear her frying the omelette, the sizzle of the pan softly escaping out into the cool air around them .

No….

The word did not escape his mouth but hung in his brain. A slight buzz scratched in his ears. The familiar feel of sorrow…and loss started to slowly coat his insides.

This couldn’t be.

Not yet.

Not again.

Neon lights were starting to spark up bleak and darkening streets around. Davis’ thin white t-shirt stuck to the inside of his jacket, the day’s sweat still waiting to be dried off. His hard boots barely dragging on the edge of the concrete under him, singing the scratch of footsteps to the now empty sidewalk. His dad’s old JAG jacket was half-zipped, its faded colour melting away into the bleak surroundings.

Davis could see some night-women in mini skirts straight ahead, a thin cloud of smoke drooping over their heads. Most of it was probably from cigarettes but from where he was, he could smell the pot and hear some hard sniffs as well. A mixture of joints and leftover coke lodged in their sinuses easing them into a busy night.

Eva was probably among them… He would always hit the gas station store at the same time she would be buying her cigarettes. They exchanged smiles and would ask about each other’s day.

She was nice…he was polite. Occasionally he would chuck her some extra fruit or snacks that he was able to afford, sometimes she’d share some bubble gum or dark chocolate that she could splurge on from a rich, out-of-town “client”.

….Eva loved dark chocolate.

Davis looked away. His mind seemed to drift as the smell of gasoline that hung in the air stung his nostrils.

Maybe he’d roll higher than a 3 today. The other week he got a 4, but the contents of that week’s shopping had gone quickly. His sister needed food to help her concentrate….she’d get frustrated and lose focus if she didn’t eat enough. He didn’t mind though…his parents had poured their Roll’s into him when he needed to study.

And maybe Jessie would roll better, hopefully landing a gig as a nurse…maybe marry a doctor down the road.

He knew she wanted to be one herself, but it was near impossible for anyone from the Outer-Tier’s to get a good job like that…especially when all the med school’s were towards the East.

The Inner-Tiers had good schools and good money….their housing was better and their air was cleaner. Something that the people in the Outer-Tiers would almost never get to taste. Still, a gig at a Hospital would put her in a good place…away from here anyway.

It’s not that his family was poor….but Davis’ parents would never amount to anything more than what they were. Middle class in the down and dingy Outer-Tier, in a Suburb, called St. Clair.

And unfortunately…or fortunately, whichever way you looked at it, it seemed the same for Davis. His Dad worked in a steel factory that helped make the trams and trains that slid into the other parts of the city…his mother was stuck boxing in a busy factory not far from where they lived.

Davis was a smart kid who looked to be earnest enough to make it as a Teacher, or Nurse himself, in a better Tier…there were even talks of him maybe getting into the Forces, the military-like Police that helped keep order throughout the city.….but that’s not how it works.

You don’t get a job or a place at a University based on your grades….you get it based on your Roll. And Davis rolled average. Just like his Dad…just like his Ma.

1–6…all bets in. After 12 years of schooling, that’s the way it is. If you finish up with good grades, you get to roll that virtual dice and whatever you land on gives you the options of where you get to go. The rudimentary jobs, 1–2, trades were 3–4 and elite level work and high thinking (also better opportunities) were 5–6.

That holographic blue-lit die would spin as you swiped it….slowly twisting and turning, toppling and rolling… till it showed you the number that would determine your life.

It didn’t matter how smart you were or how hard you worked…that hadn’t mattered for nearly 10 generations. It was all down to luck.

“In God’s hands” as women at church would mutter, waiting for their children’s first Roll in their last year of school.

Most of us only ever celebrated a four or a five…. But it wasn’t always a good thing, the last person who rolled a 5 ended up getting shanked two days later. They were walking back home with a loaf of bread and a bucket of honey to celebrate.

Jealousy was a disease in the Outer-Tier… and if someone else couldn’t make it, then you didn’t have the right to either.

Davis noticed the last of sunlight emptying behind the cold grey buildings around him. The remnants of the day’s blue sky were now coated in a nice pink and orange hue, probably the only beautiful thing out here was the afternoon sky.

He looked down across the street, his backpack barely hung from his shoulders…he had been sawing hardwood all day for the framework of a house in the Mid-Tier. His traps and back were tired and sore…but he’d slug some of that leftover whiskey in his cupboard, to help ease the pain. There wasn’t much left, so Davis decided that if he’d roll anything more than a 2 today, he’d splurge and get a cheap bottle of Jack to replace it…provided he got Jessie’s snacks first.

He could see the faint glow of a green “W” across the road, its neon spark brighter than all the other shops and stores.

Davis looked both ways, before crossing the puddle and pot-holed road and down towards the entrance.

Andy was working today, he thought, it’d be a sight for sore eyes…he hadn’t seen anyone from high school for a while, most of his classmates were now trying to navigate the wretched lifestyle they were all cursed with.

Andy worked as a shopkeeper…he rolled a 2 on the same day that Davis rolled a 3. But all Andy wanted to do was be a painter…he dreamed of going to some fancy Art’s school in the Mid or Inner Tier, hoping he’d end up splashing and stroking colours on canvas’ for snobby collectors and curators to critique.

But he rolled a 2. So he was stuck here… as a glorified checkout chick.

Davis stepped off the footpath and whistled through dry lips to grab his attention. Andy was sitting in a dimly lit booth, coated in graffiti and scratches over its protective glass. A door to the store behind him and an identical one just outside for customers to walk through.

Andy immediately looked up and smiled as Davis raised his hand.

“Davis ya knucklehead, how are we?”, he said raising a fist to be bumped from the other side of the glass.

“Aw not bad brother…yourself?”, Davis replied, tapping the glass with his own.

“Hard day today?” he asked teasingly, pushing his ginger hair back with his slim fingers.

He always knew how hard it was, and as if the dirt and pit stains on Davis’ white shirt wasn’t obvious enough.

“Na, easy as shit mate,”

A smirk etched itself on Davis’ lips…seeing a friend always made a tough day better.

Davis looked Andy once over and spotted a medium-sized sketch pad already littered with pencilled drawings… it was the same one they give out for art classes at school.

Andy kept his, a remnant of a dream that was taken from him.

“Let’s see if your luck continues brah,” he said

Davis winked…but he knew he’d roll the same as he always did. A 3 or a 2….it’d be a one per cent chance to get a 4 and anything more was a fantasy.

“No one’s rolled more than a 3 today,” Andy continued. “Which is shit coz a couple of them needed it…and they can’t afford more Rolls anyway, the credits they get only allow them the buy 1 or 2 a week….fucked up,”

Andys voice trailed away as he reached out through the gap, handing his licence to be scanned. It was always the same old and very sad story….

“Who needed it?” asked Davis. It was a stupid question because everyone needed it.

Andy’s face darkened…

“…Mrs. Carter….”

Davis clenched his jaw.

Mrs Carter was well known in the community. She had two kids with Mr Carter…or Jimbo as the locals called him. They struggled a lot since their youngest daughter was always sick and they both worked type 1 and 2 jobs. Mrs Carter, a cleaner for some company and Mr Carter collected rubbish …both in the Mid-Tier. Both long hours…both stressful lives.

Their son, Preston, wasn’t much help, a wild boy that only listened to older men, something that was scarce in their neighbourhood. He was a good kid though…but he was always mixing with the wrong crowd. In fact, if it wasn’t for Davis and a couple of the older boys dragging him back home before nightfall, he probably would’ve ended up being tattooed by a local gang and forced to roll heroin and coke into the Mid and Inner Cities for rich Inner tier kids. Those snobby, little shits were always looking to party with some easy scapegoats…

“…Carlie has got some fever now…they needed a 4 to afford a sack of rice and whatnot with her meds, which they can get by on…but Mrs Carter rolled a 2,” Andy said “..I tried to see if I can bargain with the pharmacist but apparently he’s got eyes on him after some painkillers went “missing”…fucker was probably taking them himself,”

Prescription pills and recreational drug use was common. If you rolled more than a couple of 1’s and 2’s for some time… then that shit became your life.

“…far out…,” The words were all he can manage…Davis knew they didn’t mean shit but it was the best he could do.

“Yeah…she’s still in there, tryna figure out if she can manage with the money….but it’s looking tough…oh well at least Preston’s at home,” he continued, “ I think some sense is nailing into that thick skull of his… not that he’s got much of a chance, but at least he ain’t a burden anymore…” Andy said through gritted teeth.

“Anyways…you got a couple of good rolls you’ve been saving up I see….is it just the one or maybe try your luck with the 50/50,”

Davis watched as just outside the door in front of him his details slurped to life. His face and date of birth, licence number and the number of credits he’d been saving, as little as it was, lighting up his eyes. A large blue-lit dice, and a red and a black coin sat right below it.

He could only realistically afford a roll today, and that’d be his food for the week…going for the 50/50, an option which meant he gets either the benefits of a 6 or the qualms of a 1, was out of the question. His parents would beat his arse if he ever touched that Black and Red option.

His mind wandered for a second…maybe one day…he thought. And if he won, he’d share it, people like Mrs Carter needed it more than he did, I mean what was he going to do with that much anyway?

It was wasted on a twenty-something construction worker, who could make do on stale bread and bottled water.

The image of Carlie’s face being mopped of a feverish sweat by her mother…her dad arriving home, stinking of the rubbish of people who lived more exuberant lives. Preston staring on in the doorway, a blank look on his face, barely filling out hand-me-down t-shirts and faded jeans.

Davis lost focus…without thinking he reached out to the warm light and swiped his fingers on the holographic Die. He could hear the novelty sound of its spinning….his eyes though, stuck to the floor, he didn’t want to even bother looking. It wasn’t exciting, it wasn’t interesting…the one thing it was though, was unfair.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

His tongue felt heavy. The crowd separated slightly as John’s gaze throbbed in and out of focus. His stomach curled up and released quickly. This familiar sick feeling didn’t end up in his throat…it just burned in his gut as his breathing got heavier. Maybe this was an illness….or maybe it was just sadness….either way he knew why people died of heartbreaks.

She was across from him….about 5 metres away…he couldn’t see her face, just the outline of her hair, slowly brushing the guy’s shoulder. Her hands caressing his neck. The guy’s muscles bulging from a tight dress shirt. John could see the soft sparkle of her earrings as they swayed to the music. He didn’t want to stare, so he dropped his eyes to the floor. They unfocused for a second. He had seen enough, but he still couldn’t believe it. Almost wanting his eyes to be lying to him.

The beat and bass seemed to lose their momentum as the soft thumps in his chest became the only thing he could hear. He wasn’t gripped to anything, his body slowly fading from all feeling.

Why did he feel like he lost? Or that something had just gotten ripped out of his chest.

John looked to his left…he could feel his mouth gapping, the inner of his gums and the back of his throat becoming dry. His eyes felt like they were losing their strength like they were trying to drop out of his skull. He quickly looked up to his friends….they were still looking in the direction he was just glued to. Their eyes were still processing what was in the corner… the girl wrapped in a guy she told John not to worry about.

John looked at the leftover whiskey in the small plastic cup barely staying in his hands. He drained it quickly, trying to get a sense of feeling back into his chest. Still not feeling his legs, he managed to move back towards the crowd, brushing past drunk bodies writhing against each other, all spitting drunk versions of lyrics that already soaked the air. Everything seemed to slow down, but he wanted desperately to move quickly…to just trudge his way out of the club floor of quicksand and be somewhere else.

Finally, his eyes found a gap and he managed the rest of his body through it…he slotted the now empty cup on the bar as he passed it. The bartender smiled at him as he grabbed a napkin…she seemed to sense something was up, her eyes immediately switching from welcome to concern…maybe he did look as worse as he felt.

John quickly turned away, the door was further along. It seemed to be a rush in a moment as familiar faces patted him on the back, some smiling and nodding when they spotted his face. He half smiled, the sick burning feeling in his stomach making it hard for him to exchange any kind of warmth in any kind greeting.

Security guards in black and high vision vest’s watched him as he exited, carefully trying to keep to their conversation. For some reason John felt like they knew… he adverted his eyes to the floor, a slow wave of anxiety cursing him as his setting became all too embarrassing to look at.

The blankness interrupted every so often with the sickening thump in his chest. He could feel it in his cheeks as the cold night air gripped him, the seconds between his exit and the paced walk out and up the road measured by the sound of his footsteps on concrete.

It took him five or six metres before the crowds started to thin out. Small groups of belligerent douchebags, racked up and talking about what to hit next and bundles of cold girls trying to drag drunk friends to their feet and into Ubers. John could smell the piss and vomit as he tried his best to navigate through it. His mind still empty and acidic, the rest of his senses trying to brush off the disgusting scene around him.

A couple of arms brushed his shoulder, a guy called out to him, probably trying to be funny with his mates… a couple of girls in short matching maxi outfits smiled and asked him for a light, a cigarette limply hanging from their fingers. He could smell the vodka on their breath, as he looked up and shook his head. The words “no” and “sorry” barely leaving his lips as their faces went from flirty to dismissive. John ignored whatever drunken curses were thrown his way.

He finally stepped away from the last crowd and looked towards a small concrete ledge with a fence line behind it. He made his last steps, reached out and gripped the cold steel till his hands went numb. The feeling of tearing off the bars from their home tempted him, but he settled for twisting his fists around it instead. He let go as the chill stung his palms and turned around, letting his back slump against the fence then onto the ledge.

He was drunk…he knew it…but even that couldn’t numb the acidic lump that had grown and formed a tumour inside of him. He slowly pulled his head back against the railing and opened his eyes to the night sky.

Maybe this would help….but the memory of her around that guy swerved in and out of his mind.

John lowered his head, closing his eyes and rubbed his knuckles along his forehead. The slow rhythmic feel of bone on his temple begged to be the solution for the lack of energy that once pumped through his body. His mouth fell open, and fog erupted from his mouth, he could smell the remnants of his drink and the thick layer of spit that coated under his tongue started to feel fat under his lip.

John felt gross…he felt contaminated. Like a poison had entered his blood and started bloating him from the inside out. His breath felt like toxic fumes and his eyes started to emit a swelling of acid like tears that stung from the corners of his eyes. The sickness seemed to layer itself over the lump of anxiety that called his stomach home.

This was familiar now…it had happened before. Maybe he was the problem…his mind racing back to every little moment, any little thing that he could’ve done. Something to help make it last…to make sure this hadn’t had happened. He searched and searched and searched…but all that came was memories that he once treasured. One by one like little snippets of a film, her hair floating in the breeze, her teeth as she laughed at his jokes…the soft touch of her hand against his bare chest…cuddled up half-naked in the backseat of his car. All of it was slowly being tarnished by what he had just seen. A venom that had now made those snippets of the story they shared slowly turn black ….and into a sick joke.

John lifted his head from his hands, his face numb to the chill of city air. He shut his mouth and began to steady his breath, leaning back and propping his head up to the sky….slowly letting the poison take over.

        

Dawn was going to break in about 10 minutes. The soft crash that somehow rang loud on the dark beach chimed in the first etchings of sunlight. Nothing peaked or lit up, but the sun was coming, a dim haze was starting to slowly coat the shore…a welcoming sight.

Noah had come here all the time. He drank beers and let the sun dry his salt watered body not 10 metres from where he was now. This was his happy place. This was where he loved and healed the most. And it was also the place where he knew he could find some solace…no matter how hard it got out there.

Out there both literally and figuratively. The beach was located in the Royal National Park of his home city. It was kilometres and kilometres of land, bush, forest, water, lakes and beaches. The latter of which is his favourite. He had tried his best to set his eyes on every nook and cranny with his family and friends, but there was always something new…even to the places he had visited before. Whether it be a nest of a new bird family, a crack and broken rock face from a previously impressive view…or the stray empty bottles of Gatorade that kids used to smoke pot on a Sunday afternoon.

His mother always reminded him that change wasn’t always good or beautiful….nor was it always appealing. But it was always something that happened. Something you must count on.

These words still had etched themselves into Noah’s ears. And as a result, they burnt every time he came here…everything was changing.

He usually caught the sunrise by himself….occasionally Rohan and Aish would come too but getting them out of bed in the morning was never easy and the groans throughout the drive didn’t seem to be an appealing way to start the day. Besides, it was always nice to find solace here rather than with company….which begs the question of why he brought this particular girl with him at all.

Kara caught Noah’s attention with 6 shots of vodka and a smile that told him to dare her to do more. A party that echoed through the backyard of a mutual friend, the floor littered with beer bottle caps and the air filled with Bollywood music, it seemed weird to think that one person in a crowd of faces would catch his eye. He twisted the cap of his first beer and chased it with three whiskey cokes. Soon the buzz filled his body with warmth before Rohan edged him to a table, three shots of whiskey dancing in their plastic cups against the overhead lights. Rohan asked if he was game…Noah looked at the crowd around him and asked for two more.

They went down like fire and his eyes unfocused as he stuck his tongue out in the air. The crowd erupted against the music, a yell for the boys and claps on the back stung a smile into Noah’s face.

It was game over for him….Till a voice breached the crowd…a challenge.

Kara was a little shorter, with a slim figure and edged out in full black. Her hair was tied back and her piercings added to the ferocity that shouted from her brown eyes.

Everyone whooped as the birthday girl’s cousin dug her stare into Noah and to the half-full bottle of Smirnoff that sat next to the JD that Noah had just necked. He smiled in response and watched her hand pick up 6 small glasses and return them to their table empty.

As the last slammed, and she wiped her lips, she winked and watched Noah’s ego swig one last shot of Whiskey to match her. The crowd cheered as they hi-fived, the game finally being over.

They turned each to their groups and laughed as the room became more and more unfocused. Noah knew he bit off more than he could chew and wrestled himself outside into the cold night air. His back and chest felt warm but his face went numb. He nudged himself against a brick wall, the grass under his legs slightly wet but still a welcome home over the cold concrete, not 5 metres from where he sat. The rest of the party continued as Noah plucked a cigarette from his jacket and lit it… looking up to the sky to try and focus his gaze and let a puff of smoke coat the air.

The next thing he knew, a shoulder nudged next to him.

Kara’s brown eyes smiled as she wrinkled her nose and patted his shoulder. She congratulated him on his stupidity and asked for a puff.

Somehow Noah ended up managed to spark a conversation. And somehow the sickness in his stomach disappeared. They laughed and smoked and watched the clouds clear for stars, and an hour later they were in the front yard of the house, hidden in a corner and out of sight, Kara was on top of Noah, the two no longer talking.

Making out was fun, making out drunk was even more so, they snickered as they let their fingertips dance amongst each other, and let the night slowly fade.

Before long they were caught… giggling and a few cheeky comments threw themselves off each other and the sheepish looks they gave caused for a few nudges and teasing smiles.

Noah struggled to an uber not long after, slowly saying bye, Rohan tugging him to the waiting car. He smiled at her as she winked back at him, slowly turning away.

Suddenly, and without thinking he freed himself from his best mates grasp and started calling her name. He watched her turn around and her confused smile.

“Do you wanna hang this week?”

She stopped…stared…and then smiled.

Noah asked for what days she was free and exchanged socials before telling her he’d be in touch. She smiled back and laughed as she dared him for a good opener…or risk being left on read.

Two days later they were strapped into a car on a freezing Tuesday morning, ready to watch the sunrise.

Noah preferred to do this on his own, but for some reason, a moment of a lust fuelled peace on a drunken night meant he’d for once swallow his own solitude and exchange it for some company.

Kara huffed, fog erupted in the air. 

She was cold, he was cold….it was cold. But as Noah turned to her face and watched her stare at the horizon in front of her, he chuckled. Beneath her red nose and barely visible under the scarf and beanie wrapped face was a small smile. He could barely make it out in the dim light…but he knew it was there.

She heard him and turned to her side…

“What,” she said, her face now quizzical.

“Nothing,” he replied quickly, chuckling.

“If you got a problem, say it to my face,” she teased

“And so what if I did…what are you gonna do about it,”

She stopped for a second and squinted her eyes…a smirk still straddled on her face.

She punched him in the shoulder, Noah swept-back winked and laughed as she struggled to keep hitting him. He caught her hands and brought her in close, he could feel her cold red nose as her smirk turned into a smile…just before pushing him away.

“Not that easy…”

He huffed and laughed as she turned back. 

The start of the days sun starting to form over the edge, Noah looked out as well.

He felt good about this…he needed the change, he needed the company…this was good. The time he spent here was always the same, and even though he loved it, and he took a risk coming here with someone strange, it seemed weirdly ok. Even if everything went badly, the date turned horrible or they didn’t end up being anything after today…there was always still the sun and the sand, and the picture-perfect portrait of a brand new day.

“So how often do you come out here,”

Her voice shook him back from his short trance. Noah turned to her, her eyes still fixed on where the sun would be.

“A couple times a year,” he replied, turning back as well. “ and Ever since we got locked inside because of COVID, I felt a little more guilty for not taking advantage of sunrises and sunsets,”

She hummed in agreement, eyes still fixed straight ahead.

“What about you, you ever do stuff like this?” he asked

She took her time to reply, as though having to break off from the view to answer.

“Yeah occasionally….there’s hill near my parent’s house, we used to go there,”

“We?”

She chuckled…she knew what Noah was asking. It was hard to ignore the rumours that flew around about the girl next to him. As soon as the next day came, the next day after that party, he was hit with friends and acquaintances telling him all about Kara and Jay.

Their tumultuous relationship and the heartbreak when they ended things…not just for them but for their families and friends as well.

They apparently were fighting, or that’s what Noah had heard, and in the last 6 months of their relationship, it had become on and off… more off than on to be honest.

Finally, Jay called it and Kara watched as three and a half years drove off in a Black Toyota ’86.

Jay had moved on after 6 months, he was seen on different dates with different girls around town, and his face perched up on Tinder and Bumble.

He was a good guy, everyone knew it…or they thought they knew it. Because that’s all they ever heard….and the weird thing was that despite the amicable breakup, Kara was the one that was criticised.

Her mates, who were all dating Jay’s friends, tried to get them back together, but to no avail. Eventually, Kara went back to her childhood friends and family, as her once a close group of girls started to slowly disappear.

Soon, Kara was painted as the villain…mostly because her circle became a mix of guys and girls who were all a little rougher around the edges. She started dating too…guys bragged about taking her out, kissing her at parties, dancing with her at clubs. Her reputation seemed to get a little more like her new crowd…rough.

She worked out and wore different clothes, she shed her softer look and started to get smashed on the weekends more. The sweet little girl seemed to have ridden off in that ’86 as well.

The words “slut” and “hoeing around” began to be thrown and even at the party with Noah, she got some shifty glances. But even then, she still kept quiet. As many close to her had said, She stopped caring and started smiling …something that Noah liked.

But he always thought that somehow someway, she’d feel down about the whole thing. Especially since it wasn’t going to get easier as well…. she was caught with Him after all.

“Jay and I would catch sunsets, and the girls never wanted to hang this early….now though my mates and I just usually chill at night…its the only time we have after work,”

Noah was slightly surprised that she mentioned them….it was like she read his mind.

“ What about you?”

Noah turned his eyes back to her…she was staring at him, curiosity slipping from her lips.

“What do you mean?” he replied…even though he knew exactly what she meant.

She raised her eyebrows with earnestness as Noah sheepishly smiled back.

“…well, I used to come out here with Rohan and Aish, but not as much lately…”

Kara laughed.

“What about all those girls?” she said pinching his arms

Noah chuckled with a fake embarrassment. It wasn’t uncommon for a girl he was on a date with to ask him such things, and often he found himself lying just to get them off his back…because more often has not it was out of nosiness and judgment.

But this time he didn’t have to lie…

“None… I don’t bring girls here…” he said

“…hmm,” Kara replied…she turned back to the horizon.

He could see her eyes as the light became heavier and heavier around them. The slight puffiness had gone away with the cold, but the lines under her eyes from the tired lingered.

Noah looked away, he slowly unravelled himself from his jacket. A twinge of annoyance began to burn in his chest. His forehead felt itchy and his arms felt hot.

She seemed to have noticed. “Did I hit a nerve?…”

It wasn’t that he hated that question…nor did he blame her, his reputation had been slightly infamous.

You see, Noah wasn’t a fuck-boy by the original sense of the word…but it was what was uttered by many for the last couple of years. It wasn’t the truth but somehow they managed to fit the label to him…rather than settling for what he actually was. A single guy that did single guy shit.

Dating, hooking up, and flirting was all he was guilty of…yet that word was tagged on him by people who he barely knew…or barely knew him.

He smirked. “Not at all…”

Even he wouldn’t believe what came out of his mouth. His ego clearly screamed its bruising. Deciding to be smart, Noah prepared for the onslaught of antagonising that came next.

His mind did a complete 180 in a second as a barrage of thoughts entered his mind….How stupid was he….to think that this girl would be different from any other. She was going to use him, after all, she knew his reputation, she was practically newly single and the worlds most talked-about man-whore had asked her on a date. Clearly, he was to be used to pass the time…and he was stupid enough not to just ask her to dinner as a normal person would. He just had to bring her here…the one place where he went for quiet.

An inner-contamination swept him…he shouldn’t have asked…he should’ve continued his flirting and made her question his intentions…that would’ve been better.

Stupid, stupid…so fucking stupid.

“Probably the first time you’ve told a girl the truth…”

Noah spun back into focus. He snapped to his right as more of the light shed onto her face….

“..aye?”

She chuckled. “Your face looked like you’re ready to spit fire or something….dont worry I believe you…”

Noah looked at her in confusion. “I wasn’t pissed or…”

“It’s ok… I know you’re not lying, why would you bring someone here anyway” she interrupted

“What do you mean,?”

“Well, it’s too nice and pretty to be a place where you bring girls to hook up with…that’s more like a parking lot of a Park or lake or something….it’s way too early to be bothered as well, I have a feeling you probably would’ve come with or without me,”

Noah, slightly taken back, smirked….he began to feel cold again.

“…and for the first 20 minutes of us being here, you didn’t say a word…you just watched the waves…”

“Wow…you have me all figured out don’t you?”

She laughed. “Not yet….im still trying to get my head around one thing”

“Yeah? And what’s that”

“If this is such a fortress of solitude for you…why the fuck am I here,”

Noah chuckled ….the sun was slightly poking out and he could see the slight pink hue dance among the clouds.

He felt a punch in his shoulder.

“Tell me or ill hurt you,” she declared.

He let her hit him three more times before grabbing her fists and pulling her close.

She laughed and yelled, he could smell the coffee on her breath and see the whiteness of her from her teeth. Her cold nose brushed his for a second, passing on the redness…he could feel its heat in his cheeks.

At the last second of struggle, she stopped and stared into his eyes. She was still smiling as she slowly relaxed.

He moved his lips closer and softly closed his eyes.

Waiting for her to come in that 10%…instead, he heard her whisper.

“Not that easy…”

Noah opened his eyes and bit his lower lip…he laughed as she shoved him away.

He noticed that he could almost fully see her face. In fact, he could pretty much make out everything around them now. The sand seemed white in its first glow, and the slow brushing of the breeze teased the tree’s around them. Noah looked around and then back to the horizon. The sun was coming.

He looked down to his knees as his eyes began to lose focus.

“….I don’t know,”

He could hear Kara turn to him, the soft swivel in her jacket loud amongst the quiet crash of waves.

“Maybe because I thought it would be a nice change to have at least some company…maybe because I thought you’d like it just as much as I did..”

“But I never said I liked..”

“You didn’t have to,” he interrupted. “I just…had a feeling”

Noah remembered their night together. Wrestling in the cold of that front yard. Laughing and locking lips. He remembered his eyes focusing from its drunken gaze, his hand on the small of her back…the other around her cheek. He remembered her eyes…a lighter brown that sparked in the darkness…like the sun on a brand new day.

He turned back to her, he could now see dawns light in her eyes.

Kara was staring at him, that cheeky smile still strapped on her face.

“Ok,”

“Good enough?” he replied

“I guess so….but if you’re gonna kiss me again you’re gonna figure out a way to earn it,”

…maybe the new day would bring him a new idea too, he thought to himself.

A moment of silence passed. The two of them let the world speak, their voices quietly in awe of the world their bodies exposed to. It worked to soothe but also let them breathe. Noah could hear her steady breath and his own heart align. It was like everything was now in sync…and in a moment the world seemed to burst with light.

The orange mixed to the edges of the blue and created a soft pink. It was fairy floss sky when the clouds were lit up. Slowly the sand started to gleam, the waves went from a dark grey to the blue they were always mean to be and the brushing sound of branches synchronised with the sound of the shore.

As Noah’s eyes adjusted to the new light, he let go of his arms and let his eyes glaze over from the cold. He began to stare. 

The waves looked more inviting than ever. He knew it was cold, but all the same, he wanted to be there.

Without speaking, or even thinking. Noah got up. He slowly removed his hood and slid off his jacket.

He slipped off his boots and stripped his socks.

“What are you doing,”. Kara’s brows had furrowed, a confused and strange smirk laughed out in her words.

Noah exhaled, fog still spilling from his mouth. He smiled and took off his jumper and shirt, the cold now making the hair on his chest perk up with goosebumps.

“If I get in..” He motioned to the water. “Then you have to kiss me,”

He couldn’t see her face, he instead looked back at the ocean…the sun seemed to warm his insides, making the dare a little more welcoming.

Seconds seemed to pass slowly…but Noah finally untied the drawstring to his trackies and edged his way forward. He didn’t need an answer, it was a gamble to look like an idiot…wet and cold and in his undies, but he knew she wouldn’t say no.

“Deal,”

He snapped his head back.

Her smirk was daring, her eyes now lit up by the sun, rubbing away the tiredness that once lived there.

That’s all he needed.

Noah started towards the water…his eyes stung in the breeze, and he could feel the chill of the ocean on his teeth, he slowed downs to a hop as he pulled off his tracks, his balance was tested as he managed them. He could feel the sand flick up to his calves and in between his toes, each step getting a little wetter until water and sand stuck to his legs.

Finally, the ice chill enveloped his ankles and his run slowed as each step made his body numb.

He slowly waded in, not thinking, still smiling, his knees and then his torso.

It didn’t hurt, but he could barely breathe. With one last inhale, he sunk his head and went under. His eyes closed as he lost feeling in each limb. Finally, his body went still. His hands found the sand bed as he pushed himself up.

A moment felt like a year…and his breath began to make his chest burst. He slowly opened his eyes, the saltwater blurring the dark blue world around him.

Finally, till he could take no more, he looked up to the light, he kicked once with what was left of the legs he could feel and breached the rocky surface.

Noah gasped for air and trudged back till his feet found sandy ground. He breathed heavily and panted as he tried his best to wipe the water from his eyes.

It took a second for Noah to get his bearings, but his eyes eventually adjusted as his head turned away from the blurry shore.

The horizon based was now in blue…the sun now peaking more than just its head.

There was no physical warmth…just the little spark that was lit in his eyes as he gazed out to no land but sea. Slowly he turned his back, the cold forcing more and more of his body to pant and suck air.

Not wanting to lose feeling any longer, he quickly paddled backed and kicked till the water dropped below his chest.

He could feel the breeze wrapping its cold arms around him as his arms stuck to his sides and his chin dug into his chest. He didn’t want to touch any other part of his body with his hands, the cold would’ve been way too much.

He managed to reach into his hair and risked his icy hands over his face as he wiped what saltwater he could. In the distance, he could see a jacketed figure rushing towards him.

Noah smiled sheepishly as Kara’s face seemed to be bathed in its own mirth. He laughed as she came closer, his jacket opened up in her arms. He rushed forward, the cold starting to feel a little less as they finally made it to each other, sliding into each other’s arms, Noah’s body now drying against the inside of his jacket.

She was laughing at him and his frigid body but immediately hugged him, selflessly trying to dry him off.

He couldn’t stop staring though, the suns light now coating her face…lighting up the sparks of brown in her eyes, her lips and nose still slightly red but seeming a lot warmer than he was.

She was saying something but he couldn’t hear….his heart was racing.

In a swift moment, he slipped his arms through the armholes of the jacket and wrapped them around her waist.

She didn’t seem to notice, her mouth still saying words he couldn’t hear…till finally, she stopped talking.

Her hands were on his chest, her nose brushing the small droplets that came off his…he could see every eyelash as slowly, with dawn’s Sun and its morning kiss blessing their faces, their lips met…

Sam felt the wet of the grass on his back.
He had slumped backwards trying to find some solid ground to wave off the dizziness that clouded him.
He had too much.
Whiskey and vodka shouldn’t be mixed…and the last of what was left in his stomach was now in the garden bed, teen feet from his head.
He slowly leant his head back and felt the wet grass tickle his ear and neck.
The collar of his jacket was going to be wet, but he found the coolness oddly soothing. Especially on how sickly warm his mouth and head felt.

He looked up…the stars were now circling above, the last remnants of drunkenness easing itself into the air with each exhale of breath.

He knew he fucked up, but for some reason, it didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. Even he couldn’t stay as angry at himself as he wanted to be…it was what it was.
The rest of the party behind him thumped away as the hip hop music rhythmically joined his breath in the air. It wouldn’t be long before a couple discovered him, laughing at his star-spangled body as they tried to find a place to hook up without being noticed.

He closed eyes. Trying his best to let the cold air cool the warm numbness he could get rid of. There wasn’t a reason to get this drunk…or maybe there was. But he couldn’t tell…maybe it was seeing all the couples at the party. Maybe it was because of the stress that he felt at the back of his head, needed an alcoholic cure. He couldn’t put a finger on it…and in all truth, he probably didn’t want to.

He looked over to the plastic water bottle he had let roll to his slide, wondering if there was anything left to soak his throat. He had used it to rinse, but he didn’t remember finishing it.
IN a daze he slumped over and reached for it. His fingertips grasped the bottle and pulled it in. He smiled and whistled softly as he felt the heavy water inside roll around.
Twisting it open he let the water slip down his mouth. He could feel the coolness down his throat and into his stomach.

It didn’t make him feel better.
The swirl in his stomach squelched as he felt himself become queasy again.
He welcomed it though.
The dizziness had now become his home, and with each unfocused blink at the stars, he started to feel less stressed.
This was odd…even he knew this, but he was glad.
What did he have to worry about? No guy was going to try to take advantage of his body…they’d probably laugh at the now comical situation he was in.

He had a warm bed waiting for him at home, and it wasn’t like he was completely debilitated. The girls would swoop through, sober enough to slump him into their car as they drove him home. He’d be sober enough to fit his key into the door and trudge upstairs and into his bed.

He’d be fine.
Sam knew he didn’t have to worry anymore…the stars were too pretty for anxious eyes.

Sam walked over to his bike. The sun was starting to warm up the day as the morning began it’s ending.
He knew he had to get home before 2 pm, mostly to avoid arousing the suspicion of his parents. But he still allowed his mind to wander over to the night before.

Maybe he should call her…maybe he should message her later today.

She was cool…she respected him and he knew he respected her.
So he should probably message…it was the decent thing to do.

He leaned over his seat and set down his orange juice.
He could smell the sausage and egg McMuffin even without opening the bag.
An extra hash brown and some OJ to wash it down…not bad for a Sunday, mid-morning meal.

He propped up his sunnies and dug in, halving the hash brown and sliding it into an opened McMuffin.
His cure for any kind of morning was a McDonalds breakfast…but he knew he had to make the most of it before heading back home.
Looking out the car park in front of him, he munched on.
It had taken him a while to be comfortable being single.
And It wasn’t like he didn’t have bad days.
But even he had to admit that most days weren’t horrible at all.

For the brief moments that he thought about her, he knew that it would take time before he could be whole again. In many ways, he thought he wasn’t getting better…but the truth is he didn’t know if he was getting worse either.
His sister’s words echoed in his brain as he remembered the conversation both his siblings had with him after it had happened.
His brother was staring at him, arms folded, an exasperated look on his face. His sister’s face, still plastered with worry, demanding he not lock them out like she thought he would.

Sam had come back home from a week away looking like a different human. Smelling like cigar smoke and slipping into the house, like a thief in the night. Even he knew he didn’t look ok. But it would take anyone time to adjust back after being away.
It didn’t take long for them to notice a big difference.
Besides the lingering tobacco smell, he hadn’t said a word.

Whilst trying to edge away from family suspicion he was caught by his sister and dragged from his bedroom to have a conversation.
In hindsight it was probably a good idea…they were worried and it wasn’t fair. They shouldn’t have been punished for what had happened to him.
Sam slurped down his juice as he looked up at the clouds above him.
They slowly floated by like white candy floss…he could tell he was tired because they started to look way too comfortable.

He dug back into the last of McMuffin and reached into the brown bag for his extra hashbrown.
Sam thought about what his sister had said.
To take his time and that if he needed them, that he should just ask…but to never just runoff. They had to cover for him, and it annoyed both of them…he could tell. His parents were mild about the situation. He had told them that he had jetted off with the boys and hadn’t bothered to give them any other kind of information.

Sam knew he left them all worried…but he was irked by how little he cared.

But the more he thought about them, the more he realised that they were right.
They were good to him…they all were.

But he needed time to himself.
He needed time to just be alone.
Why did it seem so suffocating when anyone asked him anything.
Why was he secretly so agitated all the time?
He finished off the last of his food and swallowed some OJ.
Something didn’t feel right…like he was wrong. Like he was a bad guy.

Sam dropped the cup to his side and slumped his bed.

Why after all this time…did he still feel like a piece of shit?
He should’ve been happy.

Some time away, cleaning himself up, meeting a new girl, having a great night, enjoying a Maccas breakfast.
These were all supposed to help him feel good

But why did he still feel shit…

Sam looked up at the clouds and exhaled. The sun streamed through his sunnies as he closed his eyes.

His sister, his brother…his whole family. They knew that he wasn’t ok, but he had convinced himself that everything was fine.
That his cheating ex didn’t bother him. That he was perfectly fine living the life he was right now. That the time away was to a break rather than an escape from his real world.

As he opened his eyes, Sam knew what bothered him.
In his head, He claimed to have all the answers. He had emptied useless affirmations to make his family and friends feel better.
But in the end, they were right…they were right the whole time.

Sam knew he was the last person to realise that he was not ok.

“Curry Muncher”

His lips moved slower than the words coming out. It was like his body said it before his mouth did. Like it was always on his mind…like it was something he needed to say.
Just to make Sam feel it.

And Sam did.
He could feel it in his chest as his heart dropped.
He could feel it in his bones as he could now feel its weight under his skin.

Everything became slow. Sam felt the fear build up in his stomach as he each syllable hit his ear. He couldn’t believe it.

Why this guy. With a tight shirt and jeans, steroid muscle and slicked-back hair. A dumbass with the same shaved body as everyone else.
Why him.
Why couldn’t it be the white dude to his right?
Or the blonde sitting next to him.
Why was it another ethnic?

The fear didn’t go away.
He felt himself go hot,
Sam was all too familiar with that word.
He had heard it at soccer games as a kid, at a function on a Saturday night and walking out of church on a Sunday morning.
He was a victim of it.
All of his life.

There was no rage, just fear. He knew that if he acted, there was a big chance he’d get hit and hit badly.

But if he didn’t do anything then this guy wins.

This guy who should’ve known better.

He didn’t need to say it.
He didn’t need to slap Rohan’s head when he was talking to the girl he was friends with.
So what? She was single, she didn’t look like she was in distress…Rohan was making her laugh…

What was the big deal?

Why the fuck did he care?

A giant grin formed on the guys face. He knew he had them.
Either ark up or fuck off.
You’re either a bitch, or he was gonna make you a bitch.
He didn’t have to say it. But Sam knew.

He knew he’d probably get clocked, kicked out and blamed for the whole thing. Such is life when you’re a brown guy in this fucking city.

Sam felt his strength go, his arms fade away as the size of the guy loomed over him.
Slowly, he felt smaller. His jacket seemed to be oversized and his jeans started to fall off his skin. He could feel the hair on his body and face start to curl.

He looked to Rohan. Behind him, the twins were still staring at the guy…probably still trying to comprehend what they just heard.
No one ever said that shit…not in their world.
The girls were stuck behind them, both fighting to get through the human barrier between them.
They had done this before. Whenever one of the guys unfairly copped anything, they were the first to stand up. They were done being made fun of their thick eyebrows and darker skin. And it was hard-pressed to fight them. And they took advantage of that.
You could never hit two girls…

But Kiara and Shalani couldn’t do this forever.
They couldn’t come to the rescue each and every single time.
He couldn’t allow it any longer.

Sam looked at Rohan.
He knew what that word meant. He knew it meant Rohan being stuffed into a bin at recess, it meant being beaten up in a toilet stall… It meant an old white History teacher muttering it under his breath as he got caught talking in class.

All those times he was helpless.
All those times… Rohan could do nothing.

But Sam could. Just this once…he could.
So what if he got hit.
So what if he was beaten.
How was it anything new? How was it any different?
And maybe something serious would happen.
Maybe after all the yells and screams, after all the punches and shirt grabbing, the body left of the floor might make a difference. Whether it was him or not. If it was him…so be it.

He was done.
And This wasn’t a joke anymore…this was a statement.

The little bubbles of frustration and anger started to churn. He could feel his stomach become solid and his jaw tighten.

The little boy inside him started to grab at his lungs and he could feel the years and years worth of anger grow stronger and stronger.
Sam remembered the dirt on his face as another parent shot the slur at him and his mum after a soccer match…they had Won the game fair and square…why were they angry?

He remembered his dad loading up the ute, trying to pack away the new desk he bought for his older sister…hearing it from a guy zipping buy from an open window, his smiling face, wagging his tongue and laughing hysterically.
Sam looked back.

The guy’s mates were laughing.

The brunette to his right wasn’t.
She slowly edged away, he could tell she wasn’t comfortable.
But Sam was.

All that time away, and he wasn’t going to let this fucker get away with this.
His heart rate picked up….he felt the blood surge back to his limbs.

He lived for this.
With one leap and push, he was in midair.
Fist balled and elbow cocked back.
In a swift movement, he swung.
Breathing out harshly, he let go…and let him have it.

All the suffering, all the ridicule…everything,

This fucker should’ve known an ethnics struggle.

He felt the clap of cheek and bone under his knuckle.
With a  Crack, he felt the guys face fade and the energy leave his body.

It was all slow motion, but Sam was unexpectedly quick.
His mates were too slow…they were all too slow. Sam had caught them all by surprise.

Before he could think, Sam launched onto the guy’s massive chest.
He could smell the overuse of shitty perfume and feel the shirt rip as he grabbed and pulled at it.
With everything again…he threw another right hand. This time landing just next to his nose. He felt the guys nostril under his knuckle and followed through.
Sam was going to make sure he got in as much pain as he could…Years worth.

In a thump, a mass of bodies swarmed him, grabbing at his back, trying to heave him from the guy.
Sam felt his elbow cock back and without thinking, into someone’s chest, His left hand still grasped around a now stretched and slightly torn shirt.
He wasn’t thinking…he wasn’t comprehending, everything went out of focus and before he knew it, he was being hoisted by three bodies, backwards.
The brawl lasted about ten seconds. Security popped out of nowhere and separated the club, pulling Sam away. They acted so quickly… It was like they knew. They knew to keep an eye on the brown guy getting an earful.

They probably heard.

And yet they did nothing.
But with all their effort…they couldn’t shield the guys face from view.

The whole club knew what they saw.

The now bloodied face of the “alpha male”.

And the sadistic smile of a brown kid as he was being pulled away.

Everyone who saw it knew…and if they didn’t see, they were going to hear it in time.
That Indian just fucked up this racist prick.

The night was old. The whisps of cold air were swinging back in as Sam stared above. He’d lost count of how many stars were plastered across the sky. Wrapped up in a large Sherpa, and a thin shirt straddled underneath it, he could feel the cold sinking into his chest.
HE tightened himself up and exhaled, watching the fog from his mouth erupt like a small white volcano.
To his left was the whiskey he had just poured himself, and sitting just next to it was the cigar he had lit five minutes before. It had died out but the tobacco smell lingered with the cold air. No wind could blow that away.

He wasn’t himself. He hadn’t been in ages…
He usually was smart enough to wear a jumper or two to warm him on a night like this. But the weed and whiskey from the night had convinced him that he would be warm enough. The last remnants of both of those were wearing off…something he didn’t think would happen.

The beard that covered his face had become overgrown, and the bushy hair was now scrambling over his ears and down his neck. Scruffy would be the right word to describe him…but whether he cared or not for that new description was beyond anyone’s knowledge.
His eyes were almost absent, they weren’t smiling or angry or any other kind of emotion…but they weren’t dead either…just not there. Probably due to the dark circles that surrounded them…sleep had made whatever presence they once had, disappear.

Sam reached for the glass beside him and sipped. It stung his mouth and burned down his chest. The antidote he needed for a night like this.
The light flickered in and out as shadows of moths scattered around him.
He needed this. He had felt as scattered as those moths were.
He needed to lose the world and find a free spot away from everything.

Arjun and Aryan both agreed to give him the keys to their stay away. A small place an hour and a half out of the city…away from everything.
He was supposed to spend the weekend away, but it had been 5 days since he’d been home. The twins told him to take as long as he liked…and suggested staying there for a week anyway…so he felt at ease knowing he didn’t need to leave after those first two nights.
There was no rest anyway. He couldn’t sleep when he got in. It took him a while to get accustomed to everything. By that time, his eyes had developed those dark circles and his beard had strangled its way over his mouth and neck.
He definitely looked out of place…but it was nothing compared to how he felt.

The world had rejected him. Made him angry and frustrated…and the quiet solace he had found was like a breath of fresh air. The city, the commotion and the constant incessant badgering started to make him feel ill…he needed a cure, and he needed it before he ran his head through a brick wall.

Sam reached for the cigar and softly wrapped his teeth around the end of it. Picking up the matchbox from his pocket he reached his fingers into the litter of sticks and struck one alight. Thick plumes of smoke formed in the air as he took a puff and exhaled, bringing the cigar back to life.
Breathe.
That’s all he needed to do.
He’d worry about the cancer later.

The whiskey-tobacco combination created a taste in his mouth and swirled around the back of his teeth.
He let the cigar hang from his fingers and looked back up at the stars.
How long would this last?…this beautiful solace he’d become accustomed to?

Even he knew he had to return home. His parents had called him a bunch of times…he didn’t ignore them but gave them short curt replies to help ease their worry.
His sister was waiting for him though. He knew it. She chose to give him space…and urged his older brother to make sure he resisted calling as well.
In fact, the last thing he remembered was her worried expression as he jumped on his bike and sped off down the street.
He owed it to her to come home and assure her she was ok. He’d tolerate his brothers badgering, trying to unearth a problem or give him some advice that may or may not work…besides, he knew they just wanted him to be ok.

Sam shook the last thoughts out of his head and scratched his beard buried chin. He had to worry about this later, now wasn’t the time to kill his only source of peace in the last month.
As he felt the breeze swing through again, Sam wondered how long till he could bear the cold no longer. He smiled softly and massaged his chest… he knew it didn’t matter. He would be there all night if he had to…he had all the warmth he needed.

His eyes half-closed, he stared back at the stars… the moths were still playing with the light behind him.

“Hey….wake up,”

Sam felt a soft prod on his shoulder and jolted awake. His eyes buzzed and whizzed around as the sleep from his eyes stuck his eyelids together. It took him a moment before he realised two things for sure.
a)He wasn’t in his own bed
and b) He was completely naked.

The later of which he could tell from the cool breeze he could feel on his upper thigh, a place on his body that would normally be warm and safe from the external world.
He rubbed his eyes before looking around him. The room was shut close, and the white furnishes of a study table and chair were lit up by a window directly on the opposite side. The curtains were flapping every so slightly in the breeze and teased at the decorative posters of different Bands on the wall where the desk sat.
He could see a smattering of plugs and chargers on the wooden floor and a wastebasket full of scrunched up paper and old chip packets. He slumped his head back towards where the voice came.
A young woman sat by the bed next to him. She had deep brown long messy hair which fell on her shoulders. A strand or two tickled at her brows as she brushed them away. Her eyes sat on small lightly dark circles and pale white skin and he nose wriggled as she watched his head rise slowly.
She was defiantly pretty. And the small twitch in her casual smile made Sam feel embarrassed at his current condition.
She wore a baggy hoodie, and socks…he couldn’t see any pants, but he assumed that just underneath it, she was just as naked as he was.
He let out a half-smile before scanning the room for the jeans he had on.

“Sorry to scare you like that…,” she said

“no…not at all…I should’ve woken up earlier anyway…sorry about that,” Sam yawned, still slyly looking for his clothes.

“It’s ok…I woke up a little while ago…you seemed pretty knocked out so I didn’t want to bother you,” she continued. “It was just getting a little late…and I didn’t know if you had plans today or not…”

She sounded sweet….like she actually gave a shit.
But Sam thought it was best to assume she was telling him to politely fuck off anyway.
He spotted a familiar blue denim at the foot of the bed, half-submerged in a pile of blankets and pillows. HE reached over, careful not to let the blanket in between his legs slip and pulled his jeans over to him. As he did he spotted the black v neck cradled in his leather jacket, just under the bed.
He turned his face over to her, slyly giving her a look of apprehension.

She got the message straight away as she got up and turned away from him.
He spotted her underwear from underneath her hoodie.
It was the same from the night before…THAT he remembered all too well.

He smiled to himself before pulling his Calvin Kleins, and jeans back on. Fastening the button on his jeans, he turned around to see her looking at him again.
He smiled half-heartedly and spoke, accepting the fact that his morning voice was going to make him sound as groggy as ever.

“Don’t worry, ill be out of your hair in a second…just need to grab my shirt…”

She laughed and pointed to where he already knew his jacket was.

“Its no bother…but my roommates are probably ready to do the judging before they head off to brunch, so you can hang in there if you like for a bit…”

Again it seemed like she was being genuine, but Sam thought the better of it. He liked her politeness…but he didn’t want to be THAT guy.
The guy who overstayed his welcome.
The guy who ended up boring the pants back onto the girl he just slept with.
The guy that turned off the girl that he just turned on.

“Na its all good…probably need the judgement, to be honest. Keeps me humble,” He slipped his head through his t-shirt before picking up his jacket, before looking back at her face.

Her brows were furrowed and she was biting her lip, staring at him. He could see she was annoyed

IN a sudden rush of panic, Sam realised his mistake.
He had rejected her. It seemed like a test, to see if he was a decent bloke.
If he stayed that meant he was a genuine bloke and if he just left, just like every other fuckboy she probably was used to.

How stupid of him not to realise…you don’t just spend the night and piss off. That’d be rude.
He knew he needed to fix his mistake if he ever wanted to see her again.

He searched for the girl’s name in his head. But in a fit of relief, his mind quickly flashed to a selfie of her, as he swiped right on her smiling face.

“…but maybe we can grab some of those doughnuts you were raving on about another time, Jess?”

Her eyes shot up and squinted at him slightly. Her mouth opening slightly before grinning at him. Clearly, she didn’t expect him to remember her name, much less the mindless conversation they had before they decided on their midnight rendezvous.
She seemed impressed as she edged slightly towards him and nodded….now, smiling.

“Yeah sure….just hit me up whenever,”

He smiled in return and turned to the door, twisting its doorknob and out of the room.

“Hey….wake up,”

Sam felt a soft prod on his shoulder and jolted awake. His eyes buzzed and whizzed around as the sleep from his eyes stuck his eyelids together. It took him a moment before he realised two things for sure.
a)he wasn’t in his own bed
and b) he was completely naked.

The later of which he could tell from the cool breeze he could feel on his upper thigh, a place on his body that would normally be warm and safe from the external world.
He rubbed his eyes before looking around him. The room was shut close, and the white furnishes of a study table and chair were lit up by a window directly on the opposite side. The curtains were flapping every so slightly in the breeze and teased at the decorative posters of different Bands on the wall where the desk sat.
He could see a smattering of plugs and chargers on the wooden floor and a wastebasket full of scrunched up paper and old chip packets. He slumped his head back towards where the voice came.
A young woman sat by the bed next to him. She had deep brown long messy hair which fell on her shoulders. A strand or two tickled at her brows as she brushed them away. Her eyes sat on small lightly dark circles and pale white skin and he nose wriggled as she watched his head rise slowly.
She was defiantly pretty. And the small twitch in her casual smile made Sam feel embarrassed at his current condition.
She wore a baggy hoodie, and socks…he couldn’t see any pants, but he assumed that just underneath it, she was just as naked as he was.
He let out a half-smile before scanning the room for the jeans he had on.

“Sorry to scare you like that…,” she said

“no…not at all…I should’ve woken up earlier anyway…sorry about that,” Sam yawned, still slyly looking for his clothes.

“It’s ok…I woke up a little while ago…you seemed pretty knocked out so I didn’t want to bother you,” she continued. “It was just getting a little late…and I didn’t know if you had plans today or not…”

She sounded sweet….like she actually gave a shit.
But Sam thought it was best to assume she was telling him to politely fuck off anyway.
He spotted a familiar blue denim at the foot of the bed, half-submerged in a pile of blankets and pillows. HE reached over, careful not to let the blanket in between his legs slip and pulled his jeans over to him. As he did he spotted the black v neck cradled in his leather jacket, just under the bed.
He turned his face over to her, slyly giving her a look of apprehension.

She got the message straight away as she got up and turned away from him.
He spotted her underwear from underneath her hoodie.
It was the same from the night before…THAT he remembered all too well.

He smiled to himself before pulling his Calvin Kleins, and jeans back on. Fastening the button on his jeans, he turned around to see her looking at him again.
He smiled half-heartedly and spoke, accepting the fact that his morning voice was going to make him sound as groggy as ever.

“Don’t worry, ill be out of your hair in a second…just need to grab my shirt…”

She laughed and pointed to where he already knew his jacket was.

“Its no bother…but my roommates are probably ready to do the judging before they head off to brunch, so you can hang in there if you like for a bit…”

Again it seemed like she was being genuine, but Sam thought the better of it. He liked her politeness…but he didn’t want to be THAT guy.
The guy who overstayed his welcome.
The guy who ended up boring the pants back onto the girl he just slept with.
The guy that turned off the girl that he just turned on.

“Na its all good…probably need the judgement, to be honest. Keeps me humble,” He slipped his head through his t-shirt before picking up his jacket, before looking back at her face.

Her brows were furrowed and she was biting her lip, staring at him. He could see she was annoyed

IN a sudden rush of panic, Sam realised his mistake.
He had rejected her. It seemed like a test, to see if he was a decent bloke.
If he stayed that meant he was a genuine bloke and if he just left, just like every other fuckboy she probably was used to.

How stupid of him not to realise…you don’t just spend the night and piss off. That’d be rude.
He knew he needed to fix his mistake if he ever wanted to see her again.

He searched for the girl’s name in his head. But in a fit of relief, his mind quickly flashed to a selfie of her, as he swiped right on her smiling face.

“…but maybe we can grab some of those doughnuts you were raving on about another time, Jess?”

Her eyes shot up and squinted at him slightly. Her mouth opening slightly before grinning at him. Clearly, she didn’t expect him to remember her name, much less the mindless conversation they had before they decided on their midnight rendezvous.
She seemed impressed as she edged slightly towards him and nodded….now, smiling.

“Yeah sure….just hit me up whenever,”

He smiled in return and turned to the door, twisting its doorknob and out of the room.