"Okay.. I think I'm gonna have to bathe," Lancelot announced a few hours after midnight as I was watching Netflix from my phone, making me sit up on my bed and reappear on the computer screen.
"Take me with you," I told him baldly.
"Oh, yes. I will gladly take you with me," he shot back in a partly sarcastic and partly suggestive humour.
"Awesome," I replied, intentionally missing his sarcasm.
Then he looked at me as if I was crazy. "No.."
"Why not?"
"Because…" he slowly started before his eyebrows knitted together. "Are you crazy? You don't want to see me bathe."
"Who told you that? Why would I ask you to take me with you if I don't? You do weird stuff there, don't you?"
"Yes, I do weird things there and it's something you don't want to see," he declared, his own words amusing himself by the way his face stretched into a playful mirth.
"If you do weird things, then.. you should take me there even more,” I insisted seriously.
He burst into laughter but firmly repeated: "No."
"You don't have to show your face."
"No."
"Why not? We've called while you were bathing before."
"Yes, but it wasn't on video."
"That's why I said you don't have to show your face."
"No. I’m gonna watch something on my phone.”
“What you gonna watch?”
“A movie.”
“What kind?”
“Porn.”
“Let’s watch it together.”
He laughed again. “No.”
“What movie you gonna watch?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet," he replied seriously this time.
"Okay," I said at last, giving up on the plea when it seemed he was never going to agree with my suggestions. "Are you gonna turn this off?" I asked, referring to our video call.
"Naturally," he replied with a tiny note of sarcasm in it. "I won't be here in my room."
"No, keep it on," I told him.
"Why?"
"Because I want to keep it on," I said stubbornly.
He scoffed in a mixture of annoyance and amusement at my unsatisfactory answer, and also perhaps at the way I was behaving. "But I won't be in my room,” he persisted authoritatively. “I'll call you right back when I'm done."
"Nooo," came my bratty, recalcitrant whine.
"Why???" came his demand.
"Because I'm all alone in the house and I'm scared."
Hearing this, sympathy immediately coloured the expression of his obstinate countenance, but such softness was quickly constrained by the suspicion that it might just be one of my mischievous tricks to get what I want.
"No, you're not," he told me, cautious of the play of my facial expression.
"Yes, I am. My sister left with her boyfriend last night," I explained, looking down.
"Don't give me that face,” he said, laughing soundlessly.
"What face?" I looked back up at him innocently.
"You're making me feel guilty."
I watched the struggle of his good-humoured frustration slowly giving in as he ran a hand back and forth from his forehead up to the top of his head, messing his short, dark hair in the process.
My face slowly lit up knowing I finally got him. "So you won't turn it off?"
"Fine, fine. But I'll mute it."
I frowned. "Why?"
"Because you might hear..."
"Hear what? Hear you from the bathroom? You talk to yourself?"
"No, I don't."
"You talk to your demons?"
"No…" He lightly laughed despite his growing impatience. "Why do you want it on?"
"Because I want to hear… the crickets," I lamely reasoned.
"The crickets?"
(I've never heard crickets from our calls at all but it was the first thing that came out of my mouth.)
"I just want to know that I'm in the presence of someone with these noises. It's like a portal to…" I trailed off, having trouble explaining myself.
"To another world," Lancelot finished for me, but it wasn't exactly what I had in mind.
However, I just decided to agree and responded: "Yeah, something like that."
And so the guy left the room with the line still open, both camera and audio.
It was around 4am when I heard conspicuous noises the dogs were making from the outside, so I opened my window to check. To my grave vexation, I saw, in our front yard, pieces of trash thrown about everywhere. I breathed deeply, suppressing the annoyance mainly aimed at my little sister for these are her dogs and if she had been here, she’d have been the one to take care of the mess but no. She went with her boyfriend to the guy’s hometown. I could’ve left the disaster off until daylight but I didn’t want to be bothered with cleaning when the antagonistic sun would break off the tranquility of my precious dark hours; my favourite hours of the day. So I cleaned and swept the yard at freaking four in the morning, feeling rather satisfied afterwards despite my initial annoyance with it.
The sun was just starting to rise when Lancelot returned in front of his computer, in a black hoodie now and wet hair. Although I was physically alone, it didn’t feel like that with him at all. It was like he was just in the same room with me and we were just doing our own thing, occasionally conversing or getting the other’s attention whenever we fancied.
At one point, I suggested we watch something and he recommended his favourite TV show called “Misfits”. I argued for a bit about how I wanted something both he and I hadn’t watched yet, but he seemed very determined in making me give it a try, so he made a proposition that we just watch its first episode and if I didn’t like it, we could watch something else of my own choosing and he’d watch it with me no matter what.
I agreed.
And guess what?
I am.. HOOKED!
How did I not hear of this series before? It’s exactly the kind of thing I enjoy watching. Fantasy, powers, a group of people in the same predicament, and most of all: comedy. I was most impressed with the actor who played this dude who is very nice, naive, awkward and shy—because he’s also the same actor who played “Ramsay” in Game of Thrones, a ruthless and sadistic roguish bastard that makes you want to jump in the show and write his name in a Deathnote and design his death in the most cruel way imaginable because that’s how good of a villain he is. It was hilariously strange to see him in the body of a nice guy, and a painfully awkward loner to top it all.
Anyway, Lancelot was really glad I liked it. Our video call lasted for about 12 hours and it was already afternoon here when we finished the 3rd episode.
"So… what do we do now?" the guy asked when we were silent for a bit, unsure whether to keep going.
"You should go to sleep,” I told him, feeling exhausted.
"You don't want to watch anymore?"
"But it's already so late there. Aren't you sleepy?"
"No. I told you I drank two energy drinks."
"So you want to watch another episode,” I said.
"I mean, only if you want to."
"Hmm…” I thought for a bit. It was tempting, but.. two more hours and I’d be awake for an entire day. “Let's take a break for now and just continue the rest later,” I decided. He agreed and we talked a little about how I’ve had two iced coffees, which led to a general confab about drinks, what we like and hate drinking, blah blah blah… Until the whole conversation made me change my mind. "Ah, you know what? Let's watch another."
He stared at me. “Another episode?"
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
"Yeah, lemme buy another iced coffee first."
"How long will it take you…"
"Like.. 20 minutes."
He seemed displeased by this. "20 minutes?"
I chuckled at the look of his face. "I walk, OK?!”
"Can't you prepare it at home?"
"We don't have coffee beans,” I explained.
"How about instant coffee?"
"The taste is not the same."
"Alright. Ah, now I want to drink coffee, too."
"Have at it,” I encouraged him.
"Okay, I'll prepare myself an iced coffee and let's see who gets back here first."
I stared at him. "Is this a competition or something?"
"Yes."
"But… that's not fair. What if you intentionally do yours quickly?"
"I won't."
The whole thing sounded absolutely unfair but I was too tired to think it through so I was just like… whatever. "What does the winner get?"
"A…” he began, “recognition, that…" he added slowly, stalling time to think, "they're the quicker one in getting coffee," he finally finished, seeming satisfied behind his suppressed smile.
"Wowww. What a great reward,” I commented dryly which made his smile break into laughter.
"So… go?" he asked expectantly, residue from his laugh still on his face.
"Wait,” I said.
"What?"
"I'm having second thoughts."
He furrowed his eyebrows, the trace of his laughter gone. "On what? Getting coffee?"
"Yes."
"So you don't want to drink one anymore?"
"I'm rethinking it,” I pointed out rather sharply, annoyed.
"You're retarded," he commented, shaking his head.
"It's all your fault!"
"How is it my fault?"
"Because when I want something, I usually get—or do it out of impulse. And now the impulse has passed because you talked too much!"
"Ah, so you wanted coffee and I asked some questions and then said I wanted it too and now you don't want it anymore."
"I should've moved pronto…" I mused to myself.
"So you really don't want to get one anymore."
"Give me a minute. Lemme lie down and think."
I disappeared from the camera as I sank on my bed, pondering and feeling what my inner desire wanted more.
"Well..? Are you done thinking?" the guy asked when the minute had passed.
"Not yet…” I answered. “Uhhhhh… You know what, actually? I'm a little sleepy." I sat back up and reappeared in front of him.
"Yeah, you should go to sleep,” he easily agreed knowing I had been up for almost 24 hours now.
"If you want to make coffee, just go ahead,” I told him.
"Nah, I only wanted it when it was a competition."
"You're a baka."
"You're more baka."