I had been roommates with Asher Hayes for three years. I had met several of his ex-girlfriends. One day, he laughed and said, "Someone confessed to me today." I wasn't surprised. He had always been popular. But then he added: "It was a guy." 1 He was squeezing my knuckles as he said this. My hands were smaller than his, and paler. But they were still a man’s hands—bony knuckles, veins visibly protruding beneath thin skin. I pulled my hand back. Looking at my reddened fingertips, I asked softly: "A guy?" Asher was good-looking. His features were sharp, with a cold, wild edge. But not aloof. He played hard, had tons of friends. He attracted everyone, men and women alike. Men hitting on him wasn't uncommon. He usually ignored it; this was the first time he brought it up himself. Asher leaned back, looking like he was recalling something. The smoke he exhaled blurred his sharp profile: "Yeah, he looked okay. His eyes... were pretty nice." Others at the table started jeering: "What? Did Ash finally swing the other way?" Asher tapped the ash off his cigarette, laughing: "How is that possible? No matter how good-looking, it's still a dude. I'm not into that." Everyone laughed. I forced a smile along with them. Right. Asher wasn't into that. He never had been. 2 I was always slow on the uptake when it came to Asher. I couldn't pinpoint when it started. Maybe it was because he knew I was lactose intolerant. Because he was the only one who called me during holidays. Because he carried me down six flights of stairs when I had a high fever. Always going to class together, eating together. Or maybe just because... He was Asher. Seeds germinate silently in the soil. By the time you notice, the vines have already entangled everything. We left for class together. At the fork in the road, he bumped my shoulder. "Let's grab dinner tonight." "With my girlfriend." There was always someone by his side. I blinked slowly. And nodded. 3 Her name was Chloe. Tall, fair, with beautiful almond eyes. They looked good together. I avoided her watery gaze and ate quietly. When asked, I’d say a few words. Chloe didn't eat much. Asher was busy chatting. In the end, I ate until I felt sick. Chloe said there was a light show by the riverfront, she wanted to see it. So I said goodbye to them. And walked back to campus alone. December. Winter in the South was just starting to feel chilly. I pulled up the hood of my hoodie. Walked slowly. After a few steps. I squatted down, unable to bear it. Gulped down a few mouthfuls of cold air. Before standing up to continue walking. 4 Morning. Asher knocked on my bunk: "Get up, or we're gonna be late." I didn't have early classes on Wednesdays, but I usually went out with him for breakfast. He went to class; I went to the library. I exposed half my face from the blanket. "I want to sleep a bit longer." Asher nodded and left first. "Wait for me after class then, we'll get lunch." At noon. We weren't together; he left with Chloe. I only returned to the dorm when the library closing bell rang. Asher wasn't there. He didn't come back that night. 5 Time drifted to the end of the semester. Asher finished his exams and saw Chloe off to the airport. He came back to school and stayed an extra day. The next day, he took me to the station. He pushed my luggage, taking long strides. Greeting people intermittently along the way. I followed behind him. Staring at his back. Watching him stop, turn around, and wave at me. Telling me to walk faster. The winter sun shone on his defined face. Handsome, unrestrained. I lowered my head. My pace remained slow. The city had two high-speed rail stations, one near, one far. I chose the far one. Ten miles; with traffic, it could take forty minutes. Soft female vocals played in the car. Asher focused on the road ahead. Lyrics about unrequited love played. Before the next line came out. I skipped to the next song. Traffic was smooth. We arrived in twenty-five minutes. Asher flicked the brim of my hat. Leaning his arms on the steering wheel, he turned to smile at me: "Go on. Remember to miss me." Every time he said this. I would nod. Hand on the door handle. My hand slipped twice before I pushed the door open. Before entering the station, I looked back. The car was long gone. 6 Second semester of senior year. Asher and Chloe broke up. Drunk, Chloe vomited by the roadside. She squatted on the ground. Face buried in her arms, crying. I hesitated for a few seconds. Went up and placed a bottle of water and tissues by her feet. Found a spot five meters away and sat down. She stifled her sobs. Only faint whimpers blew into my ears with the cold wind. Later, she finished crying and staggered away. I followed, watched her enter the dorm building. Turned and left. Chloe and Asher were over. She would soon forget Asher and find a new boyfriend. Asher would forget Chloe too, and meet a new girlfriend. They would all start over. Keep moving forward. I looked down at my elongated shadow. What about me? 7 The graduation party. Asher got drunk. I carried him to the sofa. Turned him on his side. In case he threw up, so he wouldn't choke. I sat directly on the carpet. Examined him in the dim light. His eyelashes were neither long nor curled, nose bridge high, cheeks a bit flushed. Lips slightly parted, glistening. I could smell the alcohol on him. I grabbed a cushion and pressed it on my lap, looking away. A few minutes later, I looked up again. Called him softly. "Asher." He was drunk, sleeping like the dead. Whatever I did, he wouldn't know. Like a petty thief convincing himself. I slowly leaned in. Called out again: "Asher." I watched the distance between us shrink. Twelve inches. Eight inches. ... The dead-asleep person suddenly turned over. I sat in the darkness. My heart, which had been in my throat, dropped. Dropped into some bottomless abyss.
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