“No, I’m serious. Ejiro?”
Ejiro shook his head. “Look, I just got back, can we not? Please?”
“Fine.” Ajiri sighed. She grinned. “You know mummy actually called me?”
Ejiro’s heart skipped. “Are you serious?”
“Mhm.” Ajiri nodded, laughing a little. “She’s so desperate. I truly believe she thinks you’re ignoring her or something. She called me like—six times, was it, babe?” And in Ajiri’s world, six times was a million too many; the only time their mother called her was when she couldn’t reach Ejiro for some reason, which only happened once in a blue moon. “And each time it was at a ridiculous time, like, ass o’clock in the morning.”
Ejiro decided it was in his best interest not to tell Ajiri that his mother had called him, too, even though his phone had been switched off. He was pretty sure about half of the notifications on his phone were from her.
“It was so awkward,” Blessing said, giggling. She tackled Ajiri into the sofa, burying her face between Ajiri’s breasts.
Ejiro wrinkled his nose in disgust and rolled his eyes, though he’d unfortunately seen worse. “Still here, Blessing.”
“Mm.”
“It’s really good to have you back, Ejiro. I missed you.”
Ejiro smiled tenderly. “I missed you, too.”
It didn’t take long after that before Ejiro began to yawn, and Ajiri and Blessing drunkenly began to feel each other up, though they were trying—and failing—to be discreet. It was an unfortunate fact he knew; Ajiri and Blessing were horny drunks.
Once upon a time, seeing them like this would have filled Ejiro with a bittersweet mix of jealousy and longing; he still felt the latter, but it was a different kind of yearning, especially now that he knew he had this—that he could have this.
Just as soon as he messaged Obiora.
Ejiro stood and stretched, ignoring the way his heart had begun to race. “I’m going to bed.”
“Mm. Okay,” Ajiri said, her voice husky. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Ejiro,” Blessing echoed, though she and Ajiri made no move to get up.
Ejiro walked to the sofa and stood next to them, hands crossed over his chest. “Up. Both of you. I’m not letting you have sex on the sofa. Again.”
“We’ve practically christened this entire house, Ejiro, you might as—”
“No!” Ejiro yelled, covering his ears. “La! La! La! I can’t hear you!”
The two women laughed, but staggered off the sofa and up the stairs to their room, giggling and kissing as they went. Ejiro shook his head fondly and headed to his room.
As he closed the door behind him, leaning on it, his heartbeat began to go haywire.
Ignoring the heavy presence of his phone in his pocket, he painstakingly began to unpack his bags. When he was done, he brushed his teeth and took a shower. Then he checked up on his notifications, telling his friends he was back, and he’d talk to them properly tomorrow. He checked on his Patreon and Tapas accounts, his heart swelling with love when he noticed the number of patrons and subscribers had actually increased since his hiatus. He’d written and outlined a lot for his comic while he’d been offline, and he couldn’t wait to redraw the pages on his tablet and upload them. Perhaps he’d even do a double or triple update, as a surprise and a gift for their trust and patience.
He completely ignored the messages and voice notes left from his mother. The thought of talking to her made him feel like he couldn’t breathe. If she asked him anything about where he’d been, he wasn’t sure he could lie to her anymore—the thought alone was painfully exhausting. He’d deal with her tomorrow. Or whenever.
Finally, it was time to talk to Obiora.
Ejiro trembled. He switched off all his lights and dived underneath his covers, like the darkness and the sheets would protect him.
Oh God oh God oh God.
What if Obiora had forgotten about him? What if being out of the whole dreamy aura of the filming and the isolation and everything made Obiora realise his feelings weren’t true? Surely Obiora could do better.
“Stop it, Ejiro,” Ejiro whispered out loud. He gently slapped his cheeks.
Obiora had said he loved him. And Ejiro believed him.
