Other than the anticipated congestion at Wrentham Outlets -where deal hunters prepared for Black Friday sales- the highway kept clear the whole way and they crossed into Cape Cod over the Sagamore Bridge much earlier than estimated. Though conversation stayed light, it wasn’t a bad thing; on the contrary, Mitch appreciated the opportunity to let his brain unravel in a safe space with a friend by his side. Having the option to say something should he need to was a tremendous comfort, as was the lack of obligation to fill in the gaps.

Having built up enough strength, Mitch opened Calvin’s text.

Hope you had a good Thanksgiving. Dealing with family sucks without you lol

It wasn’t the first time that Calvin contacted him since they officially called it quits, and Mitch kept his responses polite and brief; he had to be somewhat receptive, if only until he was approved for the state’s health insurance. Calvin’s messages were short, but always held an intimate level of familiarity that made Mitch deeply uncomfortable, drilling right into the marrow itself. It was as though they’d never fully split, and there was some remaining connective tissue which the surgeon missed. He hoped to scrape it all away eventually.

The worst part was how the temptation to engage overwhelmed Mitch, because Calvin could teach a master class on manipulation tactics. Of course he wanted to know how his ex was doing. Was Hot Yoga Guy even still in the picture, were his stupid tennis shoes in the foyer where Mitch’s Chucks used to reside? Most of these messages were probably sent along out of boredom, but at his core, Calvin was always a lonely person. Friendship often eluded him; real friendship, anyway. He had his network of shallow people in high places, socialites and similar entrepreneurs that’d been handed their start up capital from their wealthy parents, but somehow considered “self-made” by Forbes and whatnot. Parasites, all of them.

But Calvin knew this about the others that he surrounded himself with, and knew it about himself. Knew what was real and what wasn’t. It didn’t make him any less entitled or obnoxious, but sometimes he was vulnerable and open, and that always made Mitch feel…masculine. Strong. Like he had a role to play, a purpose, a use. A pillar for this other human. It beat aimlessly existing, or seeking out the next high. He also got a roof over his head, and sometimes he even plowed a hot twink.

Of course there was all of the blatant fabrications and non-stop gaslighting. The way that Mitch’s addiction spiraled out of control from the constant supply of drugs, which was Calvin’s preferred method of placation. Because despite all of his wealth, Calvin could never afford earnestness or compassion.

Sometimes Mitch wanted it back. Although not really, not in a way that drove or consumed him, just in passing. A fleeting blip, often gone as quickly as it surfaced. Was it truly desire, or was it a craving for the familiar when recovery led him into the unknown?

But this was too much to consider, especially when his Not Boyfriend had literally been tossed out of his life some 12 hours ago, and now this. And Mitch didn’t actually want Calvin back, nor the drugs. Well, sometimes the drugs. Always the drugs, honestly.

Mostly, he just wanted to have a purpose again. He wanted the days to matter and to stop moving so achingly slow. To be useful to anyone, even if it was just barely. Maybe that’s why he returned to Toby. Maybe that’s why he agreed to Avi’s borderline intrusive form of caring.

When would he matter to himself?

At last Mitch responded.

Sorry man : /

And then he powered off his phone.