Home > Uncategorized > Day One Hundred and Twenty-six: Feelings

Day One Hundred and Twenty-six: Feelings

“So when’s the delivery guy coming?”

Wallace looked up from where he was slouched on the sofa. He flipped open his cell phone. “Fifteen minutes,” he said.

Brady nodded and turned back to the TV. “Okay,” he said. He changed the channel to TV shopping and leaned back in his chair. He sat, unmoving, watching a platinum blonde woman try to sell fake diamond jewelry.

Other than the TV, there was no other sound in the apartment. Wallace remained on the couch and didn’t move. Brady slumped in his chair, staring at the TV. They sat like that, like they’d been sitting for hours. The last time one of them had gotten up was an hour ago – Brady went to the toilet. When he came back, he sat in the same place, in the same position, and Wallace wasn’t entirely sure if he had actually moved or not. The important thing, of course, was that he didn’t care.

Neither of them did, and that was the reason they’d ordered out.

The doorbell rang. Wallace looked over at Brady. Brady looked over at Wallace. The woman on TV kept talking about her fake diamonds.

The bell rang again.

“Fine,” Wallace said. He levered himself up off the sofa with a groan and padded to the door, stopping only to grab his wallet from the pocket of the jeans he had dropped on the floor the night before.

The man at the door looked to be in his middle age, with that kind of pent-up energy that only comes from having to take a job that was beneath you and still have to do well at it. He’d probably been a middle manager or something, back when such people were still necessary. He was shifting from foot to foot. “I’m here with the moods?” he said.

Wallace nodded and opened his wallet while the guy opened up his backpack and pulled out a small plastic envelope. “The variety pack, right? It’ll be twenty.” He held out the plastic envelope in one hand and held out the other for the cash. When Wallace gave him the twenty and a tip, he handed over the envelope with a smile. “There you go,” he said. “You enjoy yourself now, y’hear?” He tipped his ratty-looking baseball cap and jogged down the hall. Wallace watched him go, turned around, and locked the door behind him.

“They’re here,” he said. Brady looked over after a moment, then got up from his chair. “You want to pick?” Wallace handed him the envelope.

Without a word, Brady took it, then went into the kitchen for a bowl, into which he emptied the contents of the envelope. They were small plastic patches, like bandages, each one a different color and bearing a large, cartoony question mark on the topside. He carried it out into the living room and dropped it on the table. “Here,” he said. Wallace came over, and they both took a patch from the bowl, stripped off the backing, and stuck it to the inside of their forearms.

The effect always took a couple of minutes to kick in, as the complex chains of chemicals worked their way into the bloodstream. The anticipation was almost as good as the experience itself, a moment of actual emotion before the manufactured ones kicked in.

Brady’s eyes snapped wide. “ALL RIGHT!” he yelled. He stood up like a shot and started pacing around the living room, picking up clothes and books and clutter from the floor. “This is great,” he said. “Man, I thought I was gonna get Despondent again, like last time – you remember last time? Man, that sucked. But this? This is great!” He punched the air. “I feel like I’m on top of the world, man! Nothing can go wrong with this day!”


He picked up a notebook and dug through a drawer for a pen. “You know, I really think this is gonna be the thing, right? You know that idea I had, the one for the comic? Man, all I needed was this and now I can get my thoughts out of my head and onto paper where they belong.”


“And you know, there’s a really good plot that I’ve worked out – these three guys, they’re time travelers, right and they go Big Game Hunting! Throughout time! So they come back with dinosaurs and mammoths and all kinds of other awesome shit, the kinds of things you’d only dream about -”

Wallace wrapped his arms around him from behind and pulled him close. “Brady,” Wallace murmured into his back. “God, I love you so much.” He squeezed. “So much.”

“And they pick up an orphan from Victorian England, right, he’s all ‘Ello Guvnor! Can I have -‘ wait. What?” He looked behind him. “The hell are you doing, man?”

A hand came up to stroke his cheek. “You,” Wallace said. “How lucky am I right now?” He turned Brady around, and the love in his eyes was overflowing. “There is nothing I want more in the world,” he whispered, “than what I have right here, right now.”

Brady disentangled himself from his roommate’s arms. “Wally, man, I’m really sorry, but I think we got a bad combination here.” He held up his hands as Wallace took a step closer. “Maybe you ought to take another one, right? See if you can find another one like I got, and we’ll really go nuts.”

“That,” Wallace said, “sounds like a great idea.” He slowly stripped off his shirt, revealing his soft, pale chest. “Going crazy is just what we need right now.” He started to unbuckle his jeans.

“Woah! Wally!” Brady bent down and picked up the shirt from the floor. “Put this back on,” he said, “because this isn’t happening. Okay?”

Wallace’s pants dropped to the floor, and Brady did his best to keep his eyes on his roommate’s face. “I have a better idea.” He squeezed past Wallace and grabbed a handful of patches from the bowl. “One of these’ve gotta be better,” he said. “Jesus, whoever thought to get the random pack was an idiot.” He glanced up with a rueful smile. “Oops. WOAH!”

Wallace was standing in the middle of the room, naked and very aroused. “Look,” he said, putting his hands on his hips. “I think we both know this has been growing between us since we moved in together.” He tapped his belly and grinned. “You’ve felt it. I’ve felt it. There’s no escaping it.” He walked over slowly, his hips swaying as he did so. Brady backed up against the table. “Now,” Wallace said. He licked his thumb slowly and thoroughly, and then dragged it down the front of Brady’s shirt.

He leaned in close and whispered, “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes.”

Brady swallowed hard. “Wally, listen. Go to your computer, get some porn and take care of yourself, okay? Because this isn’t going to work. Right?”

“I don’t want porn, Bray. I want you.” He leaned in quickly and licked Brady’s neck.

“NO!” Brady yelled. “No you don’t, okay?” He pushed Wallace away. “That wants me.” He pointed to the patch on the inside of Wallace’s forearm. “That is why you want me, okay? Not because it’s you. So why don’t you just take that off, grab another one, and we can forget this happened.” He held out the patches he was holding. “Please, Wall. Just take another one, all right?”

Wallace looked at him, and at the patches. “But… Bray, I don’t want to.” He looked down at his arm. “I like this. I like feeling like this.”

“I know, Wally,” Brady said. “I know, and I’m sorry. But it’s just…” He shrugged. “I’m sorry.” He held out the patches again.

Rather than take another, Wallace peeled off the patch he was wearing and dropped it to the floor. “Never mind,” he said. He picked up his clothes and put them back on. Then he took a deep breath and turned back around. “Enjoy yours,” he said. He dropped down onto the sofa and curled up against the arm. “Good luck with your comic.”

Brady stared at him for a minute. Then he peeled his own patch off and balled it up. “That’s the last time we get the random pack,” he said. He sat back in his chair and settled in. The woman on the shopping channel had moved on to rings with rubies that looked like cough drops. They watched that for the rest of the night.

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