Chapter 3.1 

One the way home, Sorel reflected on their fight. Ash to him, was like an older brother, and the only person who helped him deal with… that. This thought made him feel guilty and he wanted to apologize, but he was unable to think of a way to bring it up without making it awkward. 

“So what did you guys talk about? You look unhappy.” Sorel’s stream of thoughts were interrupted as he heard his lover speak. He wanted to reply right away, but he was only going to spout lies. He wanted to show his trust, but he couldn’t say everything. Hence he left out just “some” details. 

“You. We were talking about you.” Sorel said that and then didn’t speak anymore, even though it was clear Carren was anticipating more words. Carren, who took the clue, joked around a little bit. 

“Ah! So you were talking about how sexy-” 

“Eyes on the road.” Sorel cut Carren off and didn’t let him finish saying what he was gonna say.  

For the rest of the way home, they talked for a little bit, but then went quiet, sitting in a comfortable silence. When they arrived at Carren’s apartment room, where Sorel was currently living, he marveled even though it was something he had seen multiple times. It was the penthouse of an apartment, and didn’t look cheap whatsoever. He had mentioned a few times about how he felt like he was living lavishly, but never asked about how much it cost, or how Carren was able to afford it. This was because Sorel was afraid Carren would think he was questioning his financial situation, he thought Carren would think Sorel was doubting him. 

Doubt, a feeling Sorel hated, and definitely didn’t want anywhere or with anyone. 

Once home, the night went by as normal, so did the next day. What wasn’t normal, but was usual however, was the next day. 

My day today XX/XX

8:00 am AM  

I woke up 

8:30 AM

I left for school 

9:00 AM

I arrived 

12:30 PM

I had lunch

6:00 PM

I get back home after studying at the library

6:30 PM 

I eat 

1:30 AM

I sleep 

3:00 AM 

Carren comes home all beat up

3:05 AM 

I ask him what happened, because I'm concerned, but he brushes it off and tells me it was a friendly fight

3:20 AM 

I wonder as I go to sleep, why has this become normal? Why is he always home late, why must his beautiful face and body be battered black and blue? Why can’t I push it further. I love him? I don’t want him to think I'm doubting him? Even though I am? I ponder what I should do, but because of that my feelings are mixed and I’m unsure of myself. This thinking made me think of a poem, one that I wrote when I realised what doubt really felt like. 

Infinite

That’s how much love I thought she had

For she loved all, even if she was beastly

But i was wrong, i was bad 

For she did not have infinite love, instead, she just didnt love me. 

It was infinite no more, but instead, infinite minus one