I locked the front door three times. I remember myself standing still for about a minute before turning. Something was troubling me, but I can't tell what even now. Perhaps I had a nasty feeling that night. Who knows?
Anyways, Chris was always insecure about night-time. It is different indeed to live for the majority of your life in the north suburbs of Athens and then move to the heart of the city. It's louder, it's busier at nights and there is a constant fear lurking around that someone might break and enter the apartment. His worries weren't irrational, but neither were mine.
When we decided to live together, his parents made a big deal out of it. They didn't like their son moving out at such a young age and even living together with another boy and dating him at the same time. They were disappointed and furious. In one evening they forgot all that Chris had accomplished and shuttered him completely. Ever since he would rarely talk about them, and whenever I brought them up, he'd change the subject. We were going through our relationship's major hardship, but I was convinced that we'd manage to surpass it one way or the other. We were meant for each other, and that 'happy ending' we were fed by the entertainment industry was worth fighting for.
I was working full-time on weekdays in a warehouse. It was all I could find without a decent degree and experience. A small company selling drinks and beverages was always in need of working hands, so I took my chances. The payment got better as I got better at the job and the environment was quite nice as well. Chris, on the other hand, was busy with studying. Due to his perfect exam scoring, he entered Law School, and the workload was heavier than the weights I had to lift every day at work. There was no free time between classes, and there was no chance for him to find a job. So, we were trying to make ends meet with just my salary. Thankfully, the apartment was half-paid by the people of the child institute I was in. A valuable help till my twenty-first birthday.
"There is a great spot on the mountain that we could go to tomorrow if you'd like. We can make sandwiches and have a sort of picnic. We both need a break and some fresh air will help a ton!" I took off my jacket and walked to the bathroom but stopped at once when I noticed his silence. "I'd also love to take a few pictures as well for my portfolio."
He nodded his head.
"Or we can do that another day…" I sat next to him on the couch. "What's up?"
"I had a long day at uni." An innocent lie. I could read through them, but I never made a scene.
"Tell me about it. Work was hell today. The sales department is really giving us a hard time and today especially they blamed us for their own fucking mistakes. I mean, who do they think they are?" I shook my head.
"Yeah…It is the same."
"Ok, I sense a bit of irritation. Is something wrong?" I always dreaded that question because most of the time the answer was yes and then every road led to an argument and boy the places that arguments can lead you to. But I had to ask, I had to know so we could work it out.
He turned the TV off. No word came out of any of us for five minutes or more. I was waiting, Chris was probably trying to figure out what to say and what to keep to himself. He was doing this thing with his tongue, swirling it inside the mouth, above his teeth, and pressing it against his cheeks. I always thought it was adorable.
"Why would there be?"
"I am just asking."
"No, seriously, Marc. Why would anything be wrong? I got my studies; you got your job and we live in this small apartment. Everything is the way you've always wanted."
He had me standing in a corner, I had nowhere to go and he began firing his bullets against me, not knowing, and not comprehending the pain he was causing.
"We both are where we want to be, no?" I remained calm and kept my cool. There was no use in enraging him. I had to be careful with my words.
"NO!" he stood up while I remained stunned by his reply. "I am not where I want to be! I am far away from where I've dreamt to be!" he was broken. There was no stopping. He was yelling but not furiously. He was crying his heart out and desperately struggling to muffle his sobs. "I had dreams."
Watching him crying was destroying me mentally. My mind was playing over and over again the moment we agreed on being roommates. He was excited and could hardly wait. When I showed him the apartment, he began blabbering about all the things we could buy and decorate it with. We made plans and we shared the same dream.
What changed?
"Dreams of your own or the ones that your parents forced on you?"
I can't seem to forgive myself for saying this. Whenever my mind plays that scene, over and over again, I curse my stupid self for mouthing those words.
He turned to look at me. His face was tense, his eyes flooded with tears, and his lips pressed together. Chris was angry, and I had provoked him. "Why did you follow me, then? If it broke your heart when they turned their backs on you, why didn't you run to them?" And I kept on doing so.
"Even if I told you, you wouldn't understand."
I hated arguments. I hated everything at that moment and more than anything I despised the words I knew would follow.
"Chris, please don't." I begged him in a last-minute attempt of saving us; saving him.
"How could you understand, anyways? You are an orphan. You never had parents to begin with. You have no idea what it means to have two people give life to you, work hard for your benefit, worry, and fight for your future, then lose them because you made one irresponsible decision!"
I found myself jumping up and facing him. Our eyes were locked together. There was no going back. The knot in my throat was getting tighter by the minute. The words in my head were pouring in torrents, yet none could make it past my lips. And if they did, it was pretty late.
"So, who are you angry at, Chris? Your parents? Me? Or at yourself?" I whispered. The pain was too much and it didn't allow me to speak out loud. I only looked up to see his face, hoping that there would be a hint of regret for these words.
And just like that, I was convinced he truly meant them.
"I doubt that he heard me because he walked away, leaving the apartment with just his jacket." Marc reached out for the bottle of water and poured some into their glasses.
"What did you do?" Peter seemed moved from the story he had just heard, while Manolis was way too busy chewing to even speak.
"Nothing." The boy shrugged and served himself some salad to the side of his mashed potatoes. "What could I possibly do? Run after him? Make a scene in front of the entire world, beg him for forgiveness, and then roll the credits? It wasn't some shitty-ass movie."
"Bullies would say the same stuff and worse, but they couldn't hurt me. His parents even tried to insult me in their own 'elegant' way, but I dodged it quite skillfully. I've seen families ignoring me, and teachers looking down on me. None of them made me feel so numb. I couldn't fight back. I couldn't protect myself. Not from him." He sighed and dragged some of the lettuce leaves all the way to the leftover sauce on his plate. "And I couldn't just stand there. I ran outside, ignoring the freezing cold, and searched for him. I did hear the sirens at first, but it wasn't a rare noise. I didn't pay much attention."
The words choked him, yet he did his best holding back those tears.
"He crossed the streets literally seconds after the lights turned green for the cars." Marc wiped his eyes and let out an awkward laugh. "One of them couldn't stop in time and he got hit. At least, that's what they all said. When I arrived at the spot, it had already happened."
Peter looked at Manolis and sighed, shaking his head. "I'm so sorry, Marc. I can't imagine how you must have felt then. No one should go through that."
"Yeah, but I did." He chuckled.
"And you ended up just fine." Manolis turned to Peter. "You should see him during some of our runs back at the camp. He'd hype every single one of us and then take embarrassing pictures of the exhausted lot."
"Embarrassing secret pictures, thank you very much. If anyone knew I had a camera with me, they'd steal it right away." They all laughed, but his was cut short as his stomach turned into a tight knot, impossible to untie.
"What did you do after this?" Peter's question echoed in the dining room.