(tw self harm)

Benji wanted to make the most of his time on the island, so he didn't want to ruin it by being miserable. If he had to force himself to be happy and enjoy himself, he would. There was no need to burden his friends with his problems, or to allow the cloud over his head to spread its shadow further. If he had to hide in the bathroom every once in a while to cry about something -- Victor, his own fucked up face and body, the waiting, Victor again -- then he would do it. It was fine.

After drying his eyes for the nth time, Benji stepped outside onto the terrace overlooking the beach, rolling himself another cigarette, cradling it in his hands like a baby bird so the wind wouldn't carry it away. He wanted to go sit on the beach alone and draw some more, but his friends were all going to the Christmas Eve celebrations in Las Palmas and he didn't want to be the odd one out. Normally, he wouldn't care about going along with them, preferring the solitude lately, but something in his gut told him he'd better not be alone. Ironic that he was meant to trust himself when he didn't.

He lit the cigarette and took a long drag as he watched the waves crashing to the shore, knowing their motion would never cease so long as the earth turned and the tides changed with the perpetual pull of the moon, the cosmos beckoning them and then drawing them away at the last moment. If he could, he would stay and watch this for the rest of his life. But for now, he finished his smoke, glancing around before sliding the waistband of his trousers down a bit and snuffing the cigarette out on his hip, which already looked like a game of connect the dots. He hissed, biting his lip as he waited for the sensation to pass. It was good he wasn't sleeping with Ish or anyone anymore; he didn't need people asking questions about his scars.

Wiping away the stray bead that had escaped the captivity of his tear ducts, Benji returned to the house where his friends were finishing up their preparations to go out. He put on a smile and examined himself in the mirror, not as displeased with his own appearance as he had been a few days ago. At least he had gotten a tan, his sickly, pale skin now taking on a more olive-adjacent tone that made him look slightly less corpse-like.

"Benji," Soledad said, making him jump. "C'mere, babes, lemme fix your face a bit, I have some pale concealer left that needs using. Your eye bags hurt to look at. Can't have you looking like a zombie when we're out in public."

Giving her an incredulous look, Benji cleared his throat. So he'd been that obvious. He was grateful he didn't have to say anything, though; he sat down next to her on their bed, allowing her to put concealer on him as he sat quietly.

"How are you feeling?" Soledad pried as she worked. "You seem down. Well, more than usual."

Opening his mouth and then closing it again, Benji stopped himself from saying "I'm fine" because he knew she wouldn't accept that answer; she was too perceptive. But he also didn't want to come out and say how horribly he was feeling. She glanced at him as she waited for him to respond.

"Do you want some eyeliner? It'll look pretty. And it'll give you more time to answer my question," Soledad suggested.

Nodding, Benji exhaled. He knew it would be a good reprieve from chain smoking while thinking about Victor.

Soledad held him by the chin, adjusting his head before she uncapped an eyeliner pencil and began to draw. He didn't blink as much this time. "All right, spill. I don't have all day."

"Mmm... I don't even know where to start," Benji admitted, brushing some stray hair out of his face to give Soledad a cleaner slate with which to work. "I got an email from him the other day and it threw me for a loop. He apologized and basically told me to go to therapy and honestly, when we get back to London I think I'm gonna have to. I can't just keep putting makeup on my eyebags, so to speak. What I want is for them to just be gone, you feel?"

Pursing her lips, Soledad paused mid-line, taking the pencil away from Benji's skin. Opening his other eye slightly, Benji watched her.

"I... wanna tell you something that I've been keeping a secret for some time," Soledad said, grimacing. "But please don't get mad at me."

"Why would I get mad?" Benji asked, raising an eyebrow. "You've literally done nothing but support me and be my friend."

"Oh, we'll see what you think about that in a second..." Soledad replied. "I may have sent Victor a message after he dumped you, basically telling him he's rubbish and that sort of thing. What's even worse is that he thanked me? It was weird. I was just in my feelings, honestly; I didn't expect him to take it seriously."

Benji would be lying if he said he hadn't been flattered by this, even though he shouldn't have been. He couldn't help but smile. But he felt a bit bitter, too, that Victor had responded to her but had cut him off entirely, blocking him on every form of communication he could. It made sense, but it didn't lessen the sting; it was as if he wasn't worth responding to. Benji's face fell again.

"Honestly, I'm not that upset," Benji murmured. "I just wish he had talked to me, too, instead of just straight up blocking me. He... didn't even say goodbye, and then he had the nerve to say some bullshit about how he didn't want it to be final... It doesn't make any sense."

"A bit sad that smart isn't your type," Soledad said as Benji wiped the corners of his eyes. He gave a weak, breathy laugh. "But for now, you have the power. Let him sit and wait for an answer. Or you can just ignore him and make him grovel for your forgiveness."

"Okay, fine, but I'm not looking to have power over him or make him beg. I just want him to talk to me. And I don't think that's too much to ask of him. Honestly, it's the bare minimum at this point," Benji sighed. Soledad continued applying the thick, dark lines to Benji's waterlines.

"I get that," Soledad nodded. "So what are you gonna do?"

"That's something I haven't figured out yet. It's already been a few days, so I don't want to let it sit too long. But I want to explain myself. Not just for him to take me back or whatever, but so he understands. Because that shit hurts. Like, I can't stop fucking smoking and I look like shit and I'm basically taking... a ridiculous amount of Xanax and I'll probably run out soon. I don't think it's 100% my fault; he had some part in it, too," Benji explained.

"Oh, yikes. I can relate to that heavily. Not sure if you noticed but I don't smoke either. My first girlfriend was a little older than me and got me hooked for a bit, too, and then she cheated on me, and if I hadn't had a best friend with half a brain, I would have begged my girlfriend to take me back, too. I know it's a bit different, but my point is, if I had been alone, I would have been a disaster. You can't get back on your feet without help. I can't interfere with your life, and I know a lot of Londoners don't like to get in others' business. But you're not alone, and we can help you. Just say the words," Soledad replied, finishing her work and pulling Benji up off the bed. She walked them to the mirror next to the bathroom so he could admire himself.

"Thanks for that. All of it. And thank you for listening," Benji said. Not only had she been right with her words of wisdom, but she had been right about the makeup, too. He did look good, he acknowledged, turning his head to the side.

"Sometimes this stuff can be sorta... shameful to talk about, but if you ever want me to like, hide your drugs or anything, I'm your girl," Soledad said with a giggle, before becoming a bit more serious again. "Okay, but this would look so much better with a little lipstick."

"You know I'll mess it up in like, a few minutes, right?" Benji said with a grin.

"Fine, but you know I'm right, babes," Soledad teased as she put her makeup bag away into her suitcase.

A phone rang from on top of their bed, and Soledad scrambled to pick it up with a "hi babe" as she began chatting away with her girlfriend. Benji slipped into a floral button up mostly composed of red roses on a backdrop of green vines (he had to be festive, after all) and tucked into a pair of dark jeans.

"Hey, you look really fit," Ish remarked as he entered the room, eyeing Benji up and down.

"Thanks," Benji replied politely. This time, he didn't blush.

Once they had all gotten ready to leave, they caught the bus to Las Palmas, which was about a fifteen minutes' ride away on the north-eastern part of the island, not far from where they were staying. White buildings with clay rooftops stretched as far as the eye could see, like a wall sprawling in all directions. When they vacated the bus, the group trekked down to the Christmas market by the beach, stopping to photograph the huge, impressive Nativity sand sculptures on the way over.

The beach was fairly crowded, with many tourists pausing for photo ops, too. There were some iconic Biblical scenes depicted in the sculpted sands, and despite Benji being raised in a moderately agnostic-adjacent Christian family, he didn't remember what a lot of it was supposed to mean. But from an aesthetic perspective, it was worth the trip to see. Benji made sure to take a lot of photos, thinking about how much Isabel would have loved to see this--

He broke himself quickly from that thought, shaking his head. Now wasn't the time for that.

They wandered over to the market, taking in the huge assortment of goods available for sale. There were mostly handmade trinkets made of clay and wood, jewelry, sculptures, as well as leather and woven clothing, along with homemade biscuits and other desserts. Food stalls provided fresh hot fare, such as sweet potato pastries called truchas and aromatic shrimp and seafood dishes, along with the typical turr ó n and polvorones for dessert. And of course, in typical European fashion, there was no way to escape the stalls selling alcohol. Benji eyed them as he walked by, the fragrance intoxicating and making his mouth water.

When they passed by another stall, one with jewelry for sale, Benji paused. He eyed one bracelet in particular; it was black, with round stones, some polished, others matte, and some a big misshapen and jagged. It was made from volcanic rock and onyx, and Benji found it mesmerizing. On instinct, he took two, paying for the bracelets before putting them both around his wrist as he walked away. It wasn't until later that he realized his mistake.

As night fell, the festive season feeling far too warm to elicit those familiar feelings of the holiday spirit that Benji got from Nochebuena with Victor's family, the group of friends got some big plates of seafood and papas arrugadas and brought it down to the beach. They set down a blanket and shared their food, enjoying each other's company and chatting idly. Benji didn't mind having a new Christmas tradition, but it wasn't the same as it was back home. The unfamiliar environment made him miss Victor even more.

It was almost one in the morning when they decided to head back to the house, the packed beach now almost empty, with only them and one other group populating the shore. They took the bus back, arriving just before two in the morning. As usual, Benji wasn't particularly tired.

Still, Benji lay down in his bed with Soledad beside him. She promptly fell asleep, leaving him with her soft snores as his nighttime soundtrack.

Opening the email he had received from Victor a few days ago, he read it one more time before he began typing his own response. When he finished, he pressed send. He wiped his eyes, feeling the mass that had rested itself upon his chest like an elephant's foot ready to crush the air from his lungs.

Withdrawing his usual seven pills of Xanax, he paused. He snapped one of them in half and put it away before taking the rest, the new sound of his bracelets jingling together making dread pool in his stomach. But slowly, the mass on his chest began to lighten as he fell into a deep sleep.

------------------------

Victor had never expected to be getting chastised by his family members for being single on Christmas Eve.

"Where's that boy you were always with? He seemed nice," one of his tías asked as she sipped some coquito. "You're not trying to give girls another chance, are you?"

Giving her a tight-lipped smile, Victor would simply shake his head and answer with his pre-rehearsed lines. Even after practicing countless times in his head he couldn't get the words out properly. "Nope, I'm still gay. We just... couldn't handle long-distance."

It wasn't entirely a lie, but they didn't need to know all the details. That was usually enough to get them to leave him alone, but not before remarking about what a shame it was -- he wasn't sure how many of those comments were genuine; or they would try to set him up with someone, which he would graciously decline and try to figure a way out of the interaction. It was more uncomfortable than it had been the first Christmas Eve he had Benji over since they began dating. At least he had someone to distract him from how awkward things were, someone who had experience dealing with the weird looks from homophobic family members.

Now he was alone and getting more attention due to his status as a newly single man than than for the fact that his bones were barely hanging together. Of course he did get some questions about his accident, but that was old news at this point and not as salacious. And thanks to his new, more discreet leg cast, no one could even tell that he was still hurt. His arm and chest had healed nicely and he was able to get the casts off before the holidays, but his leg was still pretty messed up. He still had trouble standing, too, and he felt a bit bad that he couldn't help his family with anything because of his condition. Sitting around and not being able to leave had him tapping his good foot against the floor unconsciously.

When Pilar joined him, Victor breathed a sigh of relief, mouthing a "thank you" to her as she sat down beside him. She took his hand, shaking her head as she did so.

"Are you getting tired of all the tías asking about Benji?" Pilar mused, watching their adult family members from afar. " Tía Emilia wanted to set you up with one of Carmen's friends who's a girl and I thought Tía Luisa was gonna rip her hair out of her head when she said that, she was so pissed. It was kinda hilarious."

Pilar chuckled, and Victor couldn't help but laugh a bit, too. She squeezed his hand as Adrian and a few of their other younger cousins came barreling into the room, fighting over who would get to play on the Nintendo Switch next. They shrieked before running down the hall and into the corridor again, disappearing for a moment to give them some much-needed peace. This was short-lived, though, as more drinks hit and some of their family members began to break out into Christmas carols. Victor cringed.

"But really, how are you doing?" Pilar asked, ignoring the drunk singing happening before their eyes.

He looked down at his hands, playing with his sleeve. "I mean, I definitely made a mistake dumping Benji, that's for sure. But at the time, it felt like the right thing to do. I wrote an email with like, all my feelings and apologized for abandoning him, and mom sent it to Benji. He still hasn't written me back and I feel like he never will."

"Wow, Mom came through? She actually did something good for once," Pilar replied, glancing over to the table where Isabel conversed with some of their family members with a smile.

"Okay, not cool," Victor said, rubbing his temples. "I don't think you'd be that happy about something like this if it happened to you."

"Fair, fair. But in this case, you guys need to communicate. Dumping him was stupid and I guess mom was trying to undo your stupidity."

"Why does everyone keep saying that... I get it, I fucked up, and I should have been there for him. But I could barely take care of myself. And when he..." Victor choked a bit as he recalled the events of over a month ago, "when he relapsed, I thought he would die or fall into a coma or something horrible like that. And I didn't want him to ever experience that because of me again."

"Cool motive, still stupid. If Benji gives you another chance after this you better thank Mom. Jeez, who am I anymore? I can't believe I'm agreeing with Mom now."

"Don't make it a habit."

"Oh, don't worry. This is the last time."

Slumping back against the couch, Victor groaned. Pilar rolled her eyes as she patted his hand before disappearing into the kitchen.

Later in the evening, it was time for the family to go to mass. At this point, many of his older cousins, who also weren't particularly religious, decided to sit out as their older family members went to church. Victor stayed behind as well, not wanting to be bothered with trying to get into the car with his half-healed leg.

Eventually, Victor ended up in bed. He was tired, and wired enough with thoughts of Benji whipping about his brain, that he had no choice but to make himself a blunt to help him fall asleep. Opening his window to let the smoke out, Victor peered out at the sky. It was inky black, with small dots like grains of rice peeking back at him before the clouds covered them up. He felt lonely again.

His eyes started to droop and he crawled into bed, covering his head with his blanket until morning.

When he opened his eyes on Christmas morning, he wiped the sleep from his eyes before swatting his night table to find his phone. Yawning, he grabbed it, bringing it in front of his face. His heart began beating in his ears as soon as he saw the notification stating that he had an email from Benji.

Almost throwing his phone onto the floor as he tried to hold it in his now sweaty hands, Victor sat up straight in his bed. He swallowed as he opened the message and began to read.

"Dear Victor,

I'll be honest: I didn't know how to respond to this for a long time. And I still don't entirely know what to say to you. I contemplated ignoring you, because the almost two months of radio silence gave me the impression you wanted nothing to do with me. Hell, I tried moving on, and you sent me this message, which completely threw me off track. All I've done on my trip to this beautiful tropical paradise is think about you and what you wrote to me and I'm tired of it.

Perhaps both of us became acutely aware of the other's mortality that day, but the difference between you and I is that I won't let others suffer because of me, where you seem to have no problem letting your decisions impact people you supposedly care about. You just know the right things to say to get people to not get pissed at you even if they deserve to be.

I'm not your plaything, even if I might have liked to be sometimes, but don't get it twisted; I wish I could stop. This time, though, I'm not just gonna drop everything, forgive you and come back to you just because you asked nicely. Frankly, I don't think I can trust you right now, or any time soon. From how you've behaved in the past, I could tell you had the capacity to be less shitty, but you and I aren't the same people we were. I wish we didn't both have to go through traumatic experiences for us to understand that. And I wish that I could write this as poetically as you, but I can't; I'm still angry at you and I'm still hurt. I wish you had let me explain myself before disappearing on me. But at least you acknowledged that you were acting in your own self-interest. At least you're self-aware. Somewhat.

What I really hate is that I can't even be truly angry at you. Even when you stopped talking to me before you dumped me, I made excuses for you. I knew you were struggling. But I wish you would had talked to me then, too, and not just in the capacity of sex. As fun as it was, what I want most is just to have you around. I don't think that's asking too much, but I know that dealing with long-distance is tough. Perhaps we should have just broken up before I left, because at least it would have been under better circumstances. I'm tired of excusing you. That's the shit I did with Derek and I didn't think I would have to do it for you, too.

But honestly, the thing I hate the most is that I love you. It frustrates me that I understand where you're coming from, even though it was all bullshit. You did say one thing that made sense that I agree with, though: I do need help. The amount of temptation I've given into lately because I felt like shit about myself is insane. If you saw me now you'd probably hate yourself the way I hated you for a while. I could tell you resented me even if you didn't say it, and maybe you had to bring me down to your level because you also hated yourself. Good job, you succeeded.

I want to fix myself for my own sake, and I want to stop needing you, too. But also, the question of if we can still be together is one that requires thinking and time. I'm still fucking confused. And I can't forgive you, either. Not yet, at least. I need time to figure myself out.

Yours,

Benji"