#and like... software engineering. whilst hard. is not terrifying to me

[friiday-thirteenth]

not me tryna decide my future rn... like #yes i should definitely do software engineering as im sinking further into a spiral about having to choose what I major in at university. go girl. whoo.

[oppositeheartsstory]

Chapter 9: Heartbreak Comrades

Yelling could be heard from outside the naive. 

“Thaaaat’s not good”, Samuel said mildly worried.

Few seconds later, the door opens. David quickly closes the door behind him.

“I understand...”, he starts saying dramatically

“...that this is a pretty interesting situation but it’s chaos in there. Please sort this out later”, he continues as if nagging. One could tell he was worried as he moved his hands whilst speaking. Something he rarely ever did.

“What’s happening?”, Samuel asked casually.

“Well,” David started sarcastically as he clapped his hands.

“Your wonderful cousin, Charles, cheerfully started a betting and now your father is utterly upset as he doesn’t know where you two are”

“Mr. Evans? Upset?”, Niccolo said puzzled.

Of all the times Niccolo had met Samuel’s father, he’d never lost composure. He gave the impression he was a very patient man. 

“It happens”, Samuel said.

“Daniel, I think it’s best if you go”, Niccolo said dryly as he turned his face towards him. 

Silence fell in the room for a few seconds, tension took over the environment until Daniel stood up and without a word he left the room. 

An embracing sense of calm could be felt the second Daniel left the room although Niccolo’s face was as serious as it could possibly be. He was always so lovely to be around by his constant smiles that this face gave the impression a beast would be unleashed if somebody crossed him.

“Great”, David said in a hight tone as he felt utterly awkward. 

“Could we go back inside now?”, he continued.

“I need to have a word with Niccolo?”, Samuel said apologetically. 

“Couldn’t, it, wait until after the wedding?”, David said exasperatedly. 

“No.”, Samuel said simply.

“Why not?”

“Because this could call off the wedding”, Samuel said sadly. 

Niccolo’s expression changed abruptly. It went from anger to melancholy. The face of concern pronounced the colour of his eyes as Samuel and Niccolo stared into one another as he said this.

“Oh, dear”, David said.

The following weeks after that last chat-encounter unleashed a series of emotions for Niccolo: from anxiety to calmness, from remorse to liberation, from sadness to happiness. It was an exhausting roller-coaster of emotions. The worst part was the sense of shame. Niccolo felt like a monster.

“I need some distraction”, he said to himself after being tormented by his thoughts.

He started searching online for an event that would take his mind off of his overthinking. 

“Perfect!”, he said out loud as he found an event to watch the football match between England and Sweden on a Saturday afternoon of July. 

Niccolo was never a massive fan of football. As a matter of fact, he could not care less: When he spent time with his family watching a match, he would choose a random name and yell it constantly just for the sake of it. But things changed once he moved to England. He was suddenly a fan of the Three Lions but just because it was England-related. He still didn’t get football as proper fans did. 

July was summer in England and this one brought a strong heat with it. Niccolo put on his white England’s team t-shirt, light-brown shorts and he set off to Leicester Square where the event was happening. It was funny because the London gay parade was happening that day and he chose to attend a football match instead. He was not comfortable to be surrounded by people who vomited their inner rainbow colours by wearing either extravagant or revealing costumes, painting their faces with glitter or accessories that made it quite obvious they were not straight at all. But most importantly, he was terrified of drag queens. A characteristic that most gay men lacked of.  

Once outside the Leicester Square station, it was as if the world had turned gay: rainbow-coloured flags everywhere, people wearing them as well. It was quite lovely to be embraced by such environment, knowing that you could live in a city where you didn’t have to hide who you really were. 

Walking towards the pub where the event was happening, he felt how most people were so enthusiastically involved in the events happening there. Niccolo was walking around with his phone in his hand as he found the location, leading him to an alley where the main entrance of the pub was. 

He walked closely to the doorman and asks awkwardly: “Is this where the London Sports event is?” 

“Yes”, the man replies in a French accent.

Niccolo shows his ID and the sunny day is blacked out by a posh room, filled with crystal lamps. He walks up the stairs until he finds a room with people inside looking at a massive screen. 

This room was that of a proper pub but a fancy one. The sun light could be seen as the wall in the front was made of glass, leading to a balcony where more people were watching a different screen.

You could tell the people were English: most of them had an alcoholic glass in their hands. People were sitting and standing. It was a crowded room of 50 people. 

Niccolo stands in the back of the room, trying not to collide with anyone.

“Hi”, a man says standing next to him. He was holding a glass of beer in his right hand. One could tell he was posh: a silver black watch on his left hand, a Polo white shirt although his sport shoes were a bit worn out.

“Hi”, Niccolo says awkwardly. 

“Are you here for the meet up?”

“Yes. You?”   

“I’m David”, was his immediate response as he held his right hand waiting for a handshake. 

“Niccolo”, he said as he shook his hand.

The whistle blows and both men fell silent. They were watching the game standing side to side. 

This was the first time Niccolo was watching a sports game surrounded by a crowd. It was lovely how the yelling happened altogether whether it was out of pain or excitement for a missed goal.

England scores the first goal and people rage with excitement followed by chanting the “Three Lions” song from the 1966.

“IT’S COMING HOME, IT’S COMING HOME, IT’S COMING...”, people sang as they embraced one another.

Niccolo and David were singing as well but not embracing one another.

First half time ends and people start to scatter around. The room is filled with noise as everyone starts speaking.

“What’s your name again?”, David yells as he gets close to Niccolo so he can hear him.

“Niccolo”, he says as he gets close to David’s ear.

“That’s not from here, is it?”, he says in a peculiar accent: He had a resounding “s”, one that sounded like a gentle whistle, giving away he was in fact, posh. 

“Nope. Italy”, Niccolo says simply.

“Yours is David, isn’t it?”

“It is. So tell me, what is an Italian man watching the game with an English shirt?”

“Well, first off, I’m Venezuelan. Then...” he corrected him.

“I love England”, he finished cheerfully.

“Lovely”, David replied casually.

“How long have you been living here?”, David asked.

“Almost two years. You? Are you from London?”

“I am. Been living here all my life. I studied in Cambridge, though. Then I moved back”.

“What did you study?”

“Electronic engineering”

“You must be brilliant, then”

David looked at Niccolo as if what he said was an overstatement. One that made it feel as if there was no reason to be admired. 

“What about you?”, David asked.

“I studied telecommunications and then did a masters in software last year”

“You must be brilliant, too”

Niccolo tilted his right hand as he said with a wrinkled expression on his face: “Not that much”

The chit-chat kept going until the second half time started with the blow of the whistle where everyone fell silent. 

It was an exciting moment being surrounded by people supporting the same team. 

When the final whistle was blown, everyone started cheering and chanting “It’s coming home” for around five minutes until the crowd scattered and everyone went their own way.

“Fancy going outside?”, David said 

“Sure.”, Niccolo replied

They both found a place to sit, looking above Leicester Square. 

“How come you love England so much?”

“Well, it’s a combination of many things: growing up in a place of economical and political chaos, being both, Venezuelan and Italian and neither at the same time...”

“But why England?”, David kept asking curiously.

“I guess because it made me feel like I fit in, for some reason”

“Well, that’s interesting”, David said apprehensively.

“What about you? Why are you here by yourself?”, Niccolo asked in an attempt to keep the conversation going. However, he started to regret it as soon as he finished the question. Perhaps it was a rather delicate question.

David takes a deep breath, exhales and sips some beer before saying:

“I’ve had a rough couple of months: me and my girlfriend of 7 years recently broke up and apparently I was no longer fun to be around with with the lads, considering I was always pissing them off with my moaning, ending with a beautiful argument when one of them tried to pass as my wingman and kept the girl to himself instead”.

Niccolo could sense the bitterness by how David said all this. There was sadness as well. 

“Maybe this is an opportunity to have a friend. Broken hearts tie strong laces when mending together”, he thought.

“That sounds awful”, he said sympathetically.

“It must be hard to finally go back to dating after 7 years and then be betrayed by one of your mates”, he finished.

“So this is what sympathy feels like”, David replied sarcastically.

Before Niccolo could say anything, David said apologetically: “I’m sorry. I’m sarcastic when I’m defensive” 

“That’s fine”, Niccolo said as if his previous words of sympathy had been an insult.

“What about you? Do you have a girlfriend?”.

“Ha, ha... No”, he said simply.

“I play for the other team”

David and Niccolo weren’t facing each other. They were sitting side by side looking front, with casual eye encounters every now and then until Niccolo’s last sentence, where David looked intently at Niccolo:

“You are gay?”, David said surprised.

“Yep”, Niccolo replied without looking at David.

This was the first time he’d come out so soon when meeting someone new. It could be told there was awkwardness between them as there was a long minute of silence before Niccolo made up his mind and decided to leave the place. He started getting up and said as he reached David’s hand for a handshake:

“Well, this has been lovely but I prefer leaving as I have made this afternoon awkward for you”.

David was surprised to hear this. He was neither a homophobe neither homo-friendly. 

“Erm, no. Please don’t go. I’m just surprised. That’s all”, he said quickly.

“I don’t have any gay friends so I don’t know how to behave”

“Well, I’m my defence...”, Niccolo started speaking in an as-a-matter-of-fact voice

“I’m not the stereotypical faggot, considering I chose a football match over the parade”

David giggled as he said this. He seemed more relaxed now that Niccolo went back to his seat.

“...and I’d be great as a wingman considering I would not steal your girl and gay men are girls’ second best friend”, Niccolo continued.

“Oh, and you wouldn’t have to do the same for me, though”, Niccolo said quickly, waving his hands in motion as if trying to set to the sides pieces of paper on an invisible desk. 

These words were like magic to David. Maybe this was a new beginning, one that he needed as everything was different. He wasn’t ready to be in a relationship again and he could definitely do with new friends.

“Perhaps having a gay friend will be helpful when dealing with heartbreak. Straight blokes hate dealing with that sort of thing, often suggesting strip clubs and being able to bang with any chick as a response to avoid the mellow conversation”, David thought.

 “If we get to the point where this friendship makes you uncomfortable because of all the gayness, you can let me know and I’ll walk away”, Niccolo said simply.

“Sure”, David replied smiling. He was overwhelmed by how intense Niccolo was. For some reason, he seemed far too eager to be his friend but since he was also alone, he got the feeling Niccolo didn’t have many friends.

“Shall we change the topic?”, Niccolo said naturally

“Fire up”, David said as he kept drinking his beer.

They talked for over three hours: David was constantly amused by Niccolo’s dramatisation of the stories he told. Niccolo was delighted to find someone with a similar taste of music. 

David and Niccolo were so distracted talking, they lost sense of time until they could see the day gently turning to night. Since it was almost summer, dusk was past 9pm but it was not until 10pm when Niccolo said:

“I guess it’s time to go now”

“Yes”, David said as if he had finished a therapy session: relieved. Niccolo could sense the discomfort of his sexuality was no longer there as he didn’t keep bringing it up. 

“Would you like to meet next Wednesday to see the match?”, David asked as they both left the building.

“Sure.”

They swapped numbers and set off different ways. Niccolo walked to the station and saw the remnants of the parade: it looked as if a gay bomb had exploded, every place was full of garbage. Everything was okay until he saw two men walking opposite him, holding hands. They were covered in glitter and rainbow-coloured flags, but what really set him off was looking at the grin on one of the men’s faces, glowing with happiness.

Niccolo sighed and whispered: “maybe one day”. The scene was not his cup of tea. It was not having a partner what saddened him, he didn’t know when he would be intimate with a man again or ever. He couldn’t keep feeling like the ugly duck. He made his best effort to be nice and kind for people to like him, having a fit body would lift his self-esteem up but apparently it was an insult as if saying “you are fat” with it. It was funny that he didn’t feel like crying as he usually did when he felt sad but since his message encounter with Daniel ended so badly, Niccolo felt emotionally drained for a while after that, it was like being dead.