Felix Ever After

by Kacen Callender

I mean, I WANT to be in love. That’s something I’ve always wanted to feel. What’s it like, to be in love and have that other person love you, too? Is it another level of friendship? Another level of trust, vulnerability, always telling that person your thoughts and feelings, sharing every little thing with them so that you’re so in sync that it’s like you’re one person? Is it like every time you see them, your heart goes wild, and you can’t think because you’re so effing happy? Is it like whenever they’re away, you feel like you’re missing a piece of yourself? Does knowing someone loves you fill you with confidence, because you know you’re the type of person who deserves love? And what’s it like to break up with someone you love? What’s it like to decide to try again, and let yourself fall in love with someone else? To decide to take that chance you might get hurt, but still want to try? I don’t know. But I want to.

“I probably always will love her,” he’d said. “But it was a tough lesson to learn, realizing that I couldn’t wait for her to decide she would love me again. It wasn’t healthy. If I fall in love again, it’ll be with a woman who loves me also—not someone who I have to convince to love me. It’s easier, I think, to love someone you know won’t love you—to chase them, knowing they won’t feel the same way—than to love someone who might love you back. To risk loving each other and losing it all.”

Ezra whispers. “Can I kiss you?”

He stops and turns back around to me. “You’re always talking about how you want to be in love. How you think it’s impossible for anyone to love you. Here I am. Telling you I fucking love you.” He raises his hands up, lets them fall to his sides again as he lets out a breath. “I love you, Felix. But—what, am I the only person in the world you don’t want loving you?”

I start to hear my dad’s voice in my head. It’s easier, sometimes, to love when you know it’s a love that you can’t have. What if this isn’t healthy—for either of us?

I’d hoped we could have that magical fairy-tale ending, too. But no—I realize that’s what I’ve always told myself, but that isn’t what I wanted, not really. I wanted to fall in love, but I didn’t want to risk the kind of love that’d fill me with excitement and joy. I know that love. It’s the kind of love I feel when I think about Ezra—when he laughs one of his loud-as-fuck laughs and when he says stupid shit when he’s high and when he holds me to his chest while we sleep. I love Ezra. I love him so much, it scares me.

I can see myself a little more clearly now. I’ve been too afraid to let myself love Ezra, but I was willing to put up with Marisol. I told myself I wanted her to realize that I’m worthy of love and respect, but I knew she would never understand that. I was willing to let myself love Declan, knowing that he only loved the idea of me—loved Lucky. I knew our relationship wasn’t going to work, but I let myself fall for him anyway. I was willing to reach out to my mom, knowing that she wouldn’t reach back to me. She still hasn’t responded, and I know that she never will. It’s almost like I was looking for the pain and the hurt, because it was easier to live with the idea that, even though I want love, I’m not the kind of person who deserves to be loved.

He sits up, resting his forehead against mine. “You deserve to be loved,” he tells me, then kisses me. “You deserve all of my love.” He kisses me again. When I kiss him back, we lie down on the couch, kissing slowly and softly, as if time is at a standstill, and we’ll get to do this for the rest of our lives.

Im gonna CRY