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He steps into the shower. It’s really cold. He usually takes warm showers, but he doesn’t feel nor care anyways. He only feels the pressure of the shower head on his scalp. 


The wedding was nice. Reserved for only Thomas’ close friends and family, but that made it only worse. Less people to distract himself with over the fact that his best friend is married to someone else. 


He never said anything of course, never intervened. He wasn’t that much of an asshole. His one mistake was not telling Thomas how he felt before he even met her. The fear of messing up their friendship and pushing boundaries made him quiet. So this is what he gets.


He gathers his soap and wash cloth and lathers himself while he continues thinking. 


You made an offer for it than you ran off.


There was one time where Thomas actually offered a relationship. But it was the worst timing ever, he recalls. 




He just broke up with a girl that he really liked (much to avoid his crush on Thomas). Thomas was there for him while this happened. But the way he explained came out wrong. 


“....You know, we could try together?”


Guy was looking at him with watery red eyes, with bewilderment and a scowl. Thomas backed off and stared at his own lap. 






As much as he wanted to at the time, it just wasn’t the right time. 


He rinses himself. He tries to think about something else. 


He collects some shampoo from the almost empty old bottle. He should get more. He’s thorough with his hair. It reached to his shoulders. 


....He used to be prettier, his thoughts intruded. 


And he reasons that it’s true. He wasn’t 18 anymore, most of his charm he believe has left him. Even if Thomas was still single, he thinks that he would never be able to win his heart anymore. So his self confidence and ego has cracked. 


His body relaxes again the shower wall. At least won’t have to worry about pleasing anyone with his appearance. It was all mostly for Thomas anyways. It doesn’t matter anymore. 


But he’s more than that. He’s Guy-Manuel de Homem fucking Christo. He makes bad ass music. 


And we will never be alone again






He starts to worry. He worries about how will it be like to make music with Thomas again. Will things be different now? Mentally for himself, absolutely. Hopefully he will get over it with time. 


Time for the conditioner. 


At least he can self love himself while he grieves. Make himself feel good and worthwhile by himself. Conditioner always makes his hair soft and nice smelling. He had a fresh bottle that- 


that Thomas recommended him. 


He used it anyways. Don’t let it go to waste. The scent definitely gives him the vague memory of when he spent the night at Thomas’ house while working on Homework in the 90s. Funny how a scent like that could still be alive for 20 years. 


He finally gets out of shower with a towel draped over his shoulders. He stares at the foggy mirror. He wonders what she will always see before bed. 


No, don’t think that. That’s weird. Just drop it. 


And drop it he will. He only puts shorts on for bed. Aside from the emotional torment, it was still tiring to socialize with even only a few people, lots of loud music, and different foods and alcohol. Of course he drank, but he didn’t even get buzzed. It was strange, he’s able to get drunk after a few drinks. Perhaps his physiology forced him to stay sober during the entire 4 hour roller coaster. 


He trudges to him bed and flops stomach first onto it. With no one beside him. All of the emotional build up has gotten to him. He’s been holding it in all these years, and yet hasn’t let himself cry out. This time, this final time, he allows himself. 


Boiling hot tears start to form, distorting his vision to the point where he can’t tell where his night table is. His sobs come in quiet hiccups and he feels like he’s either melting or sinking into his bed and never wanting to leave it. For a second, a quick second, he’s mad at Thomas. He has no real reason to be, he just is for only a moment. Then he’s is sorrow again. He knows it’s no ones fault (except maybe a little bit his own), but it just happens. Its life. And yea, it sucks, but you just gotta push through. 


That can wait for tomorrow, he decides. A broken heart won’t be fixed overnight, but he knows he can pull through it. For now - for tonight - he will let all of his emotions out and cry hard until he falls asleep.