Page 25 of Open Water

Forty minutes later, he is twenty-seven bars of chocolate poorer and has laughed more than he has in a long time.

By the time the students disappear out of the door, leaving a trail of wrappers behind, Lukas is actually smiling as he walks around picking up the damn things. He’s almost forgotten about Tom for a while despite the damn evidence being everywhere in the room.

He doesn’t look at his phone. He doesn’t want to know what else Tom has texted him, because no doubt he will have sent something. Always getting the last word in.

Lukas doesn’t take his phone out of his bag until he is going to bed and needs to set his alarm, and the thought of having another text actually fills him with fear. He doesn’t want to deal with this.

He has a good life, in his small two-bedroom flat. A living room that he tends to do everything in, eat and sleep using the small alcove as his bedroom. Well, apart from watching TV since the damn thing is broken and Lukas can’t bear to start researching which TV to get that will suit his gaming needs (he hasn’t gamed for years, but he may take it up again) and be high spec enough to deal with big showy movies (Lukas can’t remember the last time he watched a movie). He should just buy one off the shelf. But that goes against everything Lukas is. He is a born researcher. He compares and studies and reads up on things to make an educated decision. Well, apart from his disastrous choices in boyfriends. Obviously.

The second room overlooking the courtyard is his office, full of his books and work folders. A little oasis of calm where he works. And then, there’s the kitchen with its spotless hob that never gets any use, and the microwave that looks like something has exploded inside it. He really should buy a new one. He should think of renovating. He should buy himself a new sofa and a TV. Seriously.

His stomach feels uneasy as he unlocks the phone, and he can’t help the sigh escaping his mouth as the screen lights up with another message.

He should block that number. Or add it to his contacts so he can report it for harassment. Print out the texts and send an email to the police.

Not that he ever will. It’s Tom. Fucking Tom.

TOM: I hope you have had a good day, and that the chocolate made you smile. I just wanted to do something nice for you. Tom.

He doesn’t know what to reply to that. I mean, what do you reply to that?

LUKAS: Tom. It didn’t make me smile. I got a warning from my place of work, the school that I really enjoy teaching at and where I would like to continue to work for many years ahead. I don’t want to risk getting into any more trouble. You and I communicating is not appropriate since I am your son’s Mentor Teacher. Please understand how awkward, wrong and ridiculous this is.

Lukas presses send and breathes out. He hadn’t realised he was holding his breath.

TOM: Lukas. We have known each other for a very long time. It was never a friendship, but you and I both know that what happened between us at school was awkward, wrong and ridiculous. I need to put it right, for you, and for my own peace of mind. Please help me.

LUKAS: There is nothing to put right, Tom.

TOM: Yes, there is. There is a lifetime of mistakes.

LUKAS: I have a good happy life. You are an arsehole. You need to move on.

TOM: See? There is something we need to fix right there. I was an arsehole. I have spent my whole adult life trying not to be an arsehole. I’m a nice person.

LUKAS: No, you are not. I have asked you to stop. You just won't stop. Please stop.

TOM: No.

LUKAS: Why the hell not? What do you want from me?

TOM: I just want to talk to you. Get to know you.

LUKAS: Why on earth would you do that? I’m still a fucking queer faggot, Tom.

There is a long pause. Not even a speech bubble forming on his screen, and Lukas is almost disappointed, when he should be relieved. He should put his phone on silent. He should block the freaking number.

TOM: And I’m a selfish human being who just wants to feel a little bit better about myself.

He throws the phone across the bed and groans out in frustration. Trust Tom to try to pull on the heartstrings.

LUKAS: WHAT.DO.YOU.WANT.FROM.ME?

TOM: I want to sit down and talk with you. I would love to have you over for dinner, but I understand that you wouldn’t agree to that. Would you have a coffee with me?

LUKAS: No.

TOM: Please.

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