chapter 35 - paolo 17

Chapter XXXV
Paolo
Paolo’s house, 24th of April, 08.12pm

Trevor has never eaten this much. He’s definitely stressed. I don’t even want to know how much money he spent at our favorite Chinese takeaway. I saw him crying at the cinema, but he’s refusing to acknowledge it.
I hate that he feels weak for showing his emotions to me, as if he didn’t see me cry twice in these amazing months we spent together. As he finishes the fourth box of sesame chicken with sauce, I wonder how he can be so beautiful even when he’s so gloomy.
“I love the dumplings, but damn, this chicken is so addictive” he says, heavy-breathing.
We’ve been ignoring the topic “What will be of us after May?” I want to talk about it, I really do, but I might have underestimated how invested he is in our relationship.
I am super invested too, I don’t want him to get me wrong, but we are experiencing something so beautiful and unique that I am literally unable to think about what’s going to happen once we part ways. Geographically speaking, at least.
He burps with his mouth closed before sprawling his back on the sofa. He puts a hand on his bloated belly, which is violently pressing towards his high.waisted trousers. One of these days the button will pop, I can see it already.
One thing that is driving me nuts is that I noticed how Trevor is developing a bit of a split-belly. He always puts his slips way up, the elastic lands just over his deep belly button. And when he’s naked, a forming, light-red line splits his belly in half. His weight gain is astonishing, and for how much I want to believe he loves what he’s turning into, I understand all of his insecurities. It’s not easy to get big in a world that wants you thin. He has probably gained around 20-25 pounds in just two months. I want to ask him how much he weighs, but I never seem to find the right moment to do it.
“The download is almost done” I declare, looking at the screen of my laptop. He nods.
After some minutes of silence, he asks: “Can we talk about it?”
“Yes, please, I’m dying inside.”
He gets back up from the sofa and stretches to reach his diet coke.
“You don’t want to go long-distance with me” he says, before taking a sip.
“You need to stop guessing what I want or don’t want to do.”
“I just know it’s not worth it. I don’t want us to end up hating each other.”
I start stamping my foot on the floor out of nervousness. He goes silent.
“Long-distance is not the only option.”
“Yeah, you can also break up with me.”
“Trevor, please, help me out here. I’m trying to be useful.”
He puts a hand on my leg and studies my expression. He’s so worried it makes me wanna cry.
“I’m being serious, Paolo. I understand. We can be mature about it.”
“You’re just too objective,” I say, “and radical.”
“I’m just used to preparing myself for the worst so I won’t be disappointed.”
“I am too. But what we have… it’s different. I just feel everything will work fine between us, no matter what we do.”
He laughs, diverting his gaze from my face to the coffee table. The few left-overs are like dead soldiers in a war zone.
“What?” I ask, surprised.
“Jonah said you’re gonna marry me one day. Thinking about it now is bittersweetness at its finest.”
He looks back at me, smiling. His eyes are shiny, probably mine are too.
“If we were gonna die tomorrow I would definitely ask you to marry me tonight.”
Trevor starts laughing and crying at the same time. In my eyes, he has never been as breathtaking as he is now.
I try to go back to the main subject, but my parents entering the house interrupts our conversation.
They say hi, Trevor puts his coke on the table and dries his eyes with his fingers. And he goes back to acting: he stands up, smiling like nothing happened, and goes to chat with mum and dad.
I clean the coffee table before they’re able to see how much food we ate while they hear the good news about Trevor and the Vassar College’s letter. I’m sad that his excitement is somehow fake and that he doesn’t want to admit that something is wrong at this moment.
I’m scared I’m destroying the strongest person I know. I feel like I’m going to feel even worse if I end up losing him.
Then, Trevor says something that throws me off completely. He tells my parents he’s going on a diet this monday to look good for senior prom. My parents say that they agree he should go on a diet, which is quite rude in my opinion. After a while, they demand the tv. I go back to the living room, get the laptop from the ground and invite Trevor to my bedroom.
“Sorry for the mess, I didn’t expect them to come so early from their little date.”
He reaches for my hand. I turn around and he kisses me. He tastes like barbeque sauce and fizzy drinks. As his pointed canines pin my lower lip, I feel fireworks’ colors and sounds in my mind. He stops, sits on my bed and unbuttons his jeans. He sighs in relief.
“Can you tell me our options, then?” he asks straight after.
I look at my shoes while I feel my heart racing to get to my mouth and just leave my body. I’m going to throw up.
“We could try long distance and see how it goes. I think we will meet other people, but no one will make me feel like you do. I hope it’s mutual.”
I sit next to him and caress his bloated belly while he stands back and unzips his pants. A wild roll starts wobbling over his lap, I glimpse at his starting split-belly. I’m getting firm, but I’m concentrating on his question.
I keep going: “We can break up, with the promise to get back together as soon as we graduate.”
He’s trying to interrupt me with his negativity, but I anticipate him: “I know it seems impossible, four years are a long time, we’re both attractive, bla bla bla. But we can try, Trevor.”
He stays silent, which is weird. I check that he’s not in a food coma and I notice he’s about to cry again. What a mess we’re in.
“Before I go on,” I explode, “why did you tell my parents you’re going on a diet?”
“Because I am.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He shrugs his shoulders.
“Why are you going on a diet anyway? You look great.”
“It’s my body, Paolo. And you’re not the one who’s going to be stuck in this state with your mum calling you Trevor Filled-ups and such. You’re not gonna meet strangers on Tinder calling you a fatso. I miss people giving me attention.”
“Well…” I respond, changing the subject, “the other option we have is… me getting into Cortland, even without a full-ride, and-”
“Fuck that, Paolo” he says angrily. He stands up and looks at me, quite disappointed: “Hilo is your dream and you worked your ass off to get there. And you did! We both know that if you get into Cortland is because of Jonah. And I will never forgive you if you downplay your game for me.”
I lower my head and start playing nervously with my fingers.
He keeps going: “I appreciate you’re keeping this option, but your future is more important than me.”
I’m about to cry, so I end up talking with a trembling voice: “I want you to be in my future.”
We’re so broken. I probably lied to myself: it’s not like I didn’t think about the end of our story, I just blocked every thought because I was scared of losing something as amazing as Trevor Phillips.
Whatever is going to be, I feel we’re going to feel sad for a long time. We sacrificed our future selves’ wellbeing for some months of love. I don’t regret it one bit.
I remember this film we watched together - or, I should say, he forced me to watch. It’s a thriller called Gone Girl. There’s a quote that it’s making me feel so guilty and trapped at the same time: “What are you thinking? How are you feeling? Who are you? What have we done to each other? What will we do?”
Yeah, Trevor. What will we do?