“And so then I said ‘Bro, what are you doing?’ and he pulled up his pants and stuttered something about taking a leak...and I was like, ‘Over the Alexa?’. Man, it was so...”

His story was weird, something about a guy getting jack off inspiration from an Alexa...AI really is a shitshow nowadays.

“Dude?”

Shit. Somewhere in the middle he must have trailed off. I didn’t even notice that he’d stopped talking. I jerked forward and heat immediately rose to my face.

“Sorry,” I splutter. “Uh, yeah, it’s a wild story.”

The silence makes me want to just jump off the rooftop. The pounding music below feels like it’s egging me on.

“Bro. I’ve tried to ignore it but you’ve been checking out for the past, like, 20 minutes. Did you take one of K’s edibles?”

I glance to him. He looks irritated. Fuck, I should have been paying attention.

“No. Sorry. I don’t...yeah, sorry.” I don’t even have a good excuse. What a sorry sack of shit I am.

“It’s cool.” Silence follows that makes me want to fill the dead air...but not even a single topic comes up. A topic change feels awkward. More silence feels awkward-er still.

“Are you...like, good?” He asks after a moment, and for some reason my heart races.

“Yeah. Yeah. Of course.”

“You don’t sound it.” He’s too nice for me. I’m just bringing down the mood.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” He appends, and shifts beside me on the roof. “Like I know we’re not that close, but...we’re friends, you know? You need a hit from my pen?”

“Nah, uh...” I trail off, muzzle pursing, lips squirming. “I dunno. I don’t really talk about myself.”

“Yeah, duh. I don’t think in the 9 years I’ve known you have you talked about yourself at all.”

“Right. And you know, there’s a good reason, I guess,” The words just kind of tumble out of me. “Like, I dunno, it always feels awkward, and I don’t wanna rely on people like that, and...”

“Wait, why not? Why shouldn’t you?” He turns on the roof and I can’t help but look over at him. He props himself up on an elbow and takes a hit from his pen, but I can tell he’s not all that buzzed-- he has a certain level of tolerance. He’s been smoking for about 6 years or so, since it became legal...certainly works for him, at least. Part of me wants to match his energy and turn to face him, but I can’t bear to look him in the face longer than 2 seconds. I’ve always been like that. Making eye contact feels like...fuck, I don’t know. A threat? No. I dunno.

“It’s just...I dunno, it brings down the mood, n’ shit.” I mumble the words, feeling like I’m 11 years old and sitting in front of my mom after I stupidly tried to tell her I liked boys, and she had to squeeze every explanation for it out of me. In the end, she declared I was faking it and got angry for wasting her time and ‘scaring her’. I already know why I don’t, but I just can’t be that candid. It feels weird to dump that on somebody.

“I mean...I guess it will, but you should still talk about it.” He grimaces. “I do it all the time.”

“Dunno if there’s much to say, really...” The glittering night sky feels remarkably close and I’m tempted to reach out and touch it. I might be able to grab one of the stars if I try hard enough. My hand lifts before the clarity of it sets in and I feel embarrassed. Don’t do anything cringe.

“That still means you have something to say. Why don’t you try?” He takes a drag of his pen. “Just a little, or something.”

“I just...” I exhale through my nose, but it doesn’t feel cathartic. “I got ghosted by a friend recently. Well, not ghosted. We just sort of...drifted apart. And it just feels...”

“It hurts?”

“Yeah. And it’s not the first time either. Maybe I’m the common denominator.”

“People change for whatever reason though, right? Doesn’t gotta be you. Could have just been because they wanted to do something different?”

“They could have brought me along, though,” My chest feels tight and getting the words out feels like physical effort. “I thought we were really close and now I don’t even really see them any more. They moved on with some other people and I’m just still here.”

“You have other friends though, right?”

“Well, yeah, but...it’s like losing a limb, I think,” I side-eye him, but he doesn’t look incredulous. “It was such a large part of how you lived your life and now it’s gone. You can live without it, it’s no big deal, but...it’s still gone.”

“Hmm.”

“And it’s like...I run it back over and over in my head. Was I just too busy? Did I just not do enough? Was I too much of a downer, did I need to be funnier, was I not supportive enough...? What do they have that I don’t? And I won’t ever get that answer. Not from this guy, not from anybody. There’s no closure, just...nothing.”

“I don’t know the guy, but I don’t think it’s about you. People’re gonna live their life and go do what they want,” He pauses to take another long drag. “And you should be doing the same, spending more time with other people. You know, with me.”

“It’s...” I look at him and feel regret bubbling in my stomach. “I know. But it’s also not the same, either.”

“Kinda hurts.”

“I don’t mean it like that. I mean it like...” I can’t even keep still and just fidget my hands around my stomach. “The change hurts. There’s nothing to fill the dead air where they’re gone, and so I’m just left with my own thoughts. I keep busy, I do new things, different things, try new shit and it just goes around and around in my fucking head, all the things I could have done better, said better, and just got people to stay. I know I should put the effort into the people that are still here, and I do, but it’s also just...the emptiness of it makes me miserable, and I don’t like how I am when I’m sad. I’m not nice to people, or to me.”

“And it ain’t something you can just let go?”

“...I wish,” I have to fight things back a little with a sniffle, and it subsides. “It’s fucking cringe, man, and pathetic. And I feel selfish. I just wish I could have been picked.”

Silence fills the air again and just taking a breath makes me feel like my lungs are burning. He doesn’t say anything for a while and just takes a drag on his pen a few times, blowing the vapour into the cool night air as the thumping music from the party beneath us makes up for the lack of conversation enough to make it manageable, if torturous.

“Well...I dunno,” He eventually says, half-heartedly. “It’s like with dating, I guess. Plenty more fish in the sea. You’ll make some new friends who’ll fill up that space.”

“Yeah...but then it’ll be just like all the other times. Get close, become really good friends, and then...” I gesture to the air, before my hand falls to my stomach. He doesn’t say anything again for a while before sitting up, patting my on the shoulder, and scooting down the roof.

“I’m gonna get some punch.”

I watch him go, my neck craned slightly as he scoots to the edge of the roof and hops down to the balcony, where I hear him jeer at someone in the room below. My whole body deflates as I look up at the sky again. The stars seem farther away now.