Page 7 of Darkest Obsession

I have to hold onto what happened and let it hurt. I can’t even tell Violet. My sister has enough going on with Jack and mum and dad’s divroce. She’s taking it hard and she wasn’t even there to witness the worst of the arguments and the worst of dad’s behavior. If Vi knew what dad did to mum, she wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye anymore.

“Can you stop being a depressed fuck and tell me what to wear?” Kit snaps me out of my daydream. Fuck’s sake, who cares? It’s a college party. We’ve been to thousands of parties and Kit always spends ages choosing what to wear. I try to fix my hair but it won’t lie down flat and it’s suddenly a messy light brown mop. Ugh. Hair takes too much effort.

“Who cares. I’m wearing sweats.”

“How are you going to get laid wearing sweats?”

Kit’s obsession with wetting his cock will get him in trouble one day. I don’t see the point in rushing into bed with a girl. I don’t trust myself near women anymore, especially not with drugs and alcohol involved. Tonight’s a good night to quit drinking.

“I’m not.”

Kit rushes over to me and grabs my face, practically shaking my bloody head.

“What do you mean? Thomas. We’ve been here three days. How can you live without it?!”

Kit had sex for the first time three days ago and I understand it’s all very exciting to him. Sex is fine. Great with the right person. But there isn’t much of a point without the right person, is there? I don’t want to sleep with a girl I barely know. That doesn’t make me less of a man. I’d rather not wake up with strange purple bumps on my cock.

“I’m fine.”

“Fine? When do you even masturbate?”

Kit and his sick fucking questions. What I do with my cock isn’t anyone’s concern, especially not my roommate’s. I kick his football back over to his side of the room. Kit catches it beneath his foot and sends it flying into his closet.

“Are you gay, Charles?”

“Call me Charles again and I’ll kill you,” Kit says, turning his fierce blue gaze upon me. He’s such a fucking Barclay, except for his ability to get girls. But somehow, he got Clover. I don’t know why I think about her at all, but her face pops into my head. She’s not as dark as Sylvia, but she still has nice skin and her hair is weird… cool… but weird. I’ve never seen anything like it before.

“Charles… I suggest wearing a shirt that brings out your eyes.”

“What’s wrong with pink?” Kit turns in the mirror, admiring himself as usual.

Ah well, why not take advantage of his cripplingly low self-esteem? “You look gay.”

“Homophobe,” he grumbles.

“Honest.”

“Wanker.”

“Twat.”

That’s how most of our conversations have gone for the past ten years. Kit. He is a wanker, but he might have a good heart deep down. It’s unclear. I reach for his stash of green and start rolling us a spliff with raw tobacco.

“I’m going to try her again tonight. Clover.”

My muscles tighten. I don’t know why. Just hearing her name reminds me of our little encounter earlier. Kit was late to practice again, so he missed the entire situation with Clover. No point bringing up the entire affair. I’ll deal with her later. Tonight, if I’m lucky. Perhaps Kit’s right. I need clothes.

“What about this?”

“You’re changing out of your sweats?”

“Yes. Thoughts?”

“It’s a white shirt,” Kit says. “It’s hardly haute couture.”

“Exactly.”

“Brush your bloody hair.”