What a Joke

"I'm sorry John, it just isn't going to work out."

"Yeah, I understand. It's fine."

"Really?"

"Sure."

"I just feel really bad for-"

"Jacob, let it go."

He stared back at you for a heartbreakingly short moment before looking down at his shoes. There wasn't much else to do, so you turned around and left him standing on the porch. You didn't stop when you hit the sidewalk, there was no car waiting for you, you had to walk all the way to the bus stop. Truthfully you were glad for the extra time that it took to get home. Facing any of your friends right away wouldn't have ended well.

With a sigh, you banish the memory, open your eyes, and down the last of your drink. It's one of those fruity ones with a silly name and a lot more alcohol in it than they want to tell you about. You don't like to drink, but you needed to get out of the apartment and you were sick of walking around in the park, so it seemed like a great idea to hang out here. They don't card, so you don't care. There's a vibration against your leg and you groan softly as you reach into your pocket to pull out your phone. Sure, you already know who it is and that you won't answer them, but you should text her back. As you switch to the messaging function, you catch a glance at the clock. It's just ten o'clock, but you haven't been answering any calls all day. There's missed messages from all three of your friends, plus some of the trolls. You can't really think of a good reason to call them trolls still, they look pretty much identical to humans now. Something about the sun made it happen; it changed their skin and eyes while it deprived their horns of essential nutrients. For the first few weeks, it was a nightmare. They all freaked out and there were flakes of horns everywhere. Now, for the most part, they all live near you and join in on the occasional search party. You send out a mass text telling them to quit looking because you're on your way home.

You try not to make a sound as you walk in the apartment about a half hour later, but that doesn't matter. She's already waiting for you on the couch, her eyes cold and careful, catching your every move.

"You were out for a while."

"I guess."

"A long while," she says, standing up.

"I needed a day to myself, is that a crime?"

"You wouldn't answer your phone."

"Yeah, I left my phone with my jacket in a tree. I was hanging out in the park for most of the day; you know as well as anyone that when I go there alone I don't like to take my phone."

"Yes, yes, it ruins the calming effect, I understand," she replies, walking over to you and pulling you into a hug.

"I'm sorry for worrying you, Rose," you tell her as you wrap your arms around her.

"It's alright, just please tell me where you are next time," she says softly and kisses you.

Almost instantly, she pulls away.

"Also, please don't lie to me about where you've been."

Fuck.

"I only stopped by for a drink for a few minutes before coming home, I swear."

"Really?" she asks, the sarcasm dripping from her voice.

"Have you ever known me to sit at a bar and drink all day long?" you remind her.

"No, I suppose not. I'm tired, John, and I'm going to bed now. I guess I'll see you in the morning."

With that, she slides out of your arms and retreats to her room. It's a normal thing for her to do after you've angered her. The ways she says it tells you that you're not allowed to go near her until she wakes up, which eliminates the cuddling that usually happens before you both fall asleep together. That doesn't sound all that bad, but the severity of the punishment doesn't matter. You understand that you've made her mad and that is all that matters.

"Rose, I'm heading up to the roof," you call out softly before wandering into your room.

"Alright, have fun," she calls back tiredly, her voice muffled by the door.

Grabbing a small box from a hiding space in your room, you begin the ascent to the roof of the apartment complex. The night air is turning chilly, but it still smells like summer to you. Down below the trees have begun to change colors, but there's still a lot of green. Autumn is your favorite times, but summer pulls in as a close second. When they begin to meet and merge, you start to take longer walks just so that you can enjoy the brief times of warmth and color before the icy winter sets in. It may sound strange, but you swear that you can smell the seasons. This night smells like both summer and autumn for just an instant, but that changes once you pull the little box out again. It only takes a few seconds to get the cigarette lit and once you do all that you can smell is smoke.

"Heir of Breath my ass," you mutter, taking a long drag.

You've been doing this for months now, just standing on the roof and smoking a cigarette. It's not something that you have to do, not an addiction at all, but you enjoy it. When you're really stressed you come up here every few nights, but you haven't been up here at all this week. About half an hour, you're down a few cigarettes and heading back to your apartment. Out of habit, you pop a few mints into your mouth. That doesn't do anything for the scent that clings to your clothes, but nobody seems to care either way. It's as if as long as the scent isn't coming from your mouth, everything is fine and you've never touched a cigarette in your life.

You are John Egbert, and this is what your life has become.