Chapter 4: Aftermath

In the end, Jason only accepted my gift. That night, after everyone left, he sat at his desk playing with the mouse I gave him.

The glow from his laptop screen washed over his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the soft mess of his hair. The room was quiet except for the soft click of the mouse, the occasional muted cheer from someone down the hall playing FIFA, and somebody yelling about losing a Mario Kart race. The smell of burnt popcorn drifted in from the kitchenette.

Every time he touched it, I could feel his fingertips on my body.

I curled up on my bed, drenched in sweat, weakly biting my blanket. My earbuds lay forgotten on the pillow, Spotify paused mid-song. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the sensation, but every spin of the wheel sent a fresh wave through me. It was like my whole body was a live wire.

Suddenly, Jason lightly spun the mouse wheel.

I clutched the blanket tight, my eyes wide, tongue unconsciously sticking out, my whole body trembling. Drool slipped from the corner of my mouth, wetting a patch of the blanket. But I didn’t even notice. One hand gripped the sheets; the other covered my eyes in shame. A stifled whimper escaped my throat. But I had to hold it in—I couldn’t make a sound.

We’re both computer science majors. Jason is always coding, looking things up, or gaming to relax, so he uses the mouse a lot. My laptop chimed with another Canvas notification, reminding me I should be working, too. But my brain was mush, thoughts short-circuiting every time Jason so much as scrolled through an email.

I really shot myself in the foot. But after an hour, I couldn’t take it anymore. I was crying silently, tears streaming down my face. I don’t know how long it took before he finally put down the mouse.

I let go of the blanket and collapsed on the bed like a dead fish, eyes unfocused. The chat bubbles burst out laughing:

[Just a little touch and you’re already spent. When it’s the real deal, you’ll be so out of it your eyes will go blank.]

[Someone should go easy on him. Look at this silly baby—even his fingertips are shaking. Can’t bully him anymore.]

I rested for a while before I could barely sit up. My whole body was soaked in sweat, my pants sticky and uncomfortable. I needed to get up and shower before anyone noticed. But as soon as I got out of bed, my legs gave out and I nearly tumbled down the stairs.

The pain I expected never came. I was caught by Jason and held in his arms. A familiar minty scent drifted over. I looked up and met his eyes. Maybe it was just my imagination, but Jason’s ears looked a little red.

He raised his hand and touched my forehead. “Why are you sweating so much? Are you feeling sick?” He pulled me closer, concern etched across his usually stoic face. His thumb brushed my knuckles, lingering just long enough to make my skin tingle.

I awkwardly pushed him away, tugging at my clothes, terrified he’d notice my embarrassment below. “It’s nothing, I’ll be fine after a shower.” I tried to sound nonchalant, but my voice was shaky. I wrapped my arms around myself, desperate for any kind of normalcy.

Jason was still worried, holding my hand. “Are you sure you can manage by yourself?”

Our roommate couldn’t help but tease him: “You really treat Alex like a wife. Want to help him shower too?”

“Yo, when’s the wedding, you two?”

The guys in the hallway whooped and snickered, someone tossed a pack of ramen at us, laughing. I ducked my head, my skin prickling with a weird combination of hope and humiliation.

Jason shot them a look. “Enough. Alex is my best friend.” He turned back and ruffled my hair. “Don’t listen to their nonsense.” His hand was warm and steady, but the words stung more than I expected. I wanted to shrink away, to hide behind the bathroom door until the ache in my chest faded.

I paused, feeling a little bitter inside. Best friend, huh…

The chat bubbles sighed:

[What a jerk—already played with his 'wife' until he's sticking out his tongue, but still insists they're just friends. Serves him right if he loses him.]

[He’ll know what he’s lost when his 'wife' falls for someone else.]

Their words echoed my own bitter thoughts. Was I really doomed to always be ‘just a friend’? The realization weighed on me, sharp and lonely.

I ignored the chat bubbles. Afraid Jason would see the disappointment on my face, I grabbed my change of clothes and dashed into the bathroom like I was running away. Behind the locked door, I pressed my forehead to the cool tile and wondered how much longer I could survive being just his friend.

The bathroom’s fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, making everything feel sterile and too bright. I stood under the stream of hot water, willing it to wash away the ache and the longing. But no amount of scrubbing could erase what I felt—not for Jason, and not for what I’d given away with that stupid mouse.