unloveable, message received, loud and clear

James wasn’t procrastinating. He was perfectly happy staying up late. He wanted to be lying in bed, playing spider solitaire on his phone. His dreams sometimes included spider solitaire, that’s how late he stayed up playing it, but there wasn’t any nefarious reason for it. There wasn’t any dread in his gut, fear somehow living in his neck, hands - no, James was living his waking life as though he would fall asleep eventually, and he had no reason to care about that, to avoid it, he didn’t. He fell asleep around four in the morning, his phone on his chest.

James woke up with a strange taste in his mouth, almost... lipstick? Not real. He must still be asleep, James told himself as he stood and drank some water, wiping his face on a tissue he didn't look at before tossing and entering the shower. He tried masturbating in the morning. The wet between his legs distracted him from the card game nightmare that wasn’t really a nightmare - until, suddenly, his hands no longer feel like his own. They felt smaller, with longer nails that hurt, moved away from his genitals to his thighs, then his ass, having pulled him against another body - James looked down and saw indentations of feminine nail marks that had bit into the skin covering his hipbones. He made the shower water hotter, as hot as he could stand. The water would run cold eventually regardless of how hot he had it - his skin would be scalded first, though. Good. If it was all red, the nail marks wouldn't be real, wouldn't be worrisome.

James would blink away the water from his eyes. He turned the water off. He wanted to go back to sleep. His sister had gone to work. He had a few hours before he had to go to work himself. James gave into the desire after reading the note, knowing she had left, she wasn’t at home. His nap would be dreamless, and he would indeed wake up refreshed… and late. James was late for work! He dressed, took a granola bar and bag of grapes, plus a water bottle.

James traveled via a bus, train, and his own legs. When he had to cross the street, he didn’t look both ways; in fact, he didn’t look out for cars at all. He worked, left, and barely remembered anything that had happened by the time he was on the bus home. James lied to his sister about having had a great day, truly, and then asking her about her day, knowing she wouldn’t hesitate to take over talking.

Their parents came home as James was making dinner. Sasha, James’ sister, continued taking up attention throughout dinner, eventually trying to guilt James because he hadn’t eaten the breakfast she had made him. He promised to eat it tomorrow instead. Mom and Dad told James to stop antagonizing his sister, so James said he was going to go play video games for a while. He did just that, although Dad talked James into hosting a family round of Mario Kart. James moved to the living room. Eventually Mom and Sasha got bored, while James and Dad continued playing well into the evening, competitive posturing meaning neither men wanted to lose. Dad would concede by midnight, chiding that James ought to make sure he got some sleep. James would play the NPCs. 

He ended in 10th place around 1 am, turning the Wii off and trailing to bed. He didn’t bother taking any clothes off except his socks. He already felt like he was dreaming as he pulled blankets over him, only James felt another body in the bed. A female, familiar body, her breasts pressed against his back, her breath on his neck, James was certain he was sleeping, he was dreaming, Sasha’s sh-sh-sh-sh almost felt more than heard. James had fallen asleep. He was having a nightmare. Sasha wouldn’t have waited in his bed, half naked, her hands already working their ways - James didn’t fully form the thought. He let the sensations wash over him, fantasizing Princess Peach was driving repeatedly into a building. James had played as Princess Peach once Sasha left, taking her controller because it had been the one that controlled the game itself.

James was in the car, driving, falling and falling and regenerating only to fall again. He was one of the Non-Player Characters, only Mario Karts couldn’t hold more than one passenger, could they? James felt Sasha pressed against him, her hands on his lap, on his groin, wh- they were falling off the cliff again. The dream continued, the world outside of James’ closed eyes impossible to know for certain. James would never know if Sasha had been in bed with him, not when he woke up yet again alone, damp underwear the only proof anything at all had occurred, which could easily have been the dream arousing James.

 James forwent showering that morning, instead reheating the chocolate chip pancakes Sasha had cooked for him the morning prior. The sensations, taste of the chocolate, softness of the pancakes, the fact James had caught a glimpse of Sasha asleep on his way down to the kitchen, those were real; the impression of breasts against his back, ghosts of hands on his groin, those weren’t. Those were able to be forced out of his mind with another forceful bite of pancake and determination not to think.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” Sasha said as she entered the kitchen, referring to herself having made him breakfast. James began choking on the pancake. “You liked that, didn’t you, Sasha had said in his dream as James fell to pieces beneath her fingers, shaking his head in denial but leaning into her touch nonetheless, her victory over his physical pleasure evident. 

In the real world, James was choking, his sister concerned as she ran behind him. Sasha hit him on the back to help but James only felt her chest, breasts, against his back again. 

“What’s going on? I heard coughing, Sasha baby, you having asthma?”

“No, Mom, James here had a bit of a scare. Choked on the pancakes I baked for him yesterday”

“Oh, no, honey, you okay? Let me get you some water. My sweet baby boy can’t die over breakfast, thank you Sasha, you helped him, didn’t you?” Sasha nodded, rolling her eyes at Mom when Mom’s back was turned to get James the water. The eye-roll felt so normal, so conspiratorial in an innocent way, that James knew what his mind had invented had to be that: invented.

James drank some water Mom brought him, final remnants of the failed effort at eating falling down the correct pipe this time. He intentionally avoided looking in Sasha’s direction as she played up what occurred, exaggerating as though she had single-handedly saved James’ life. Eventually her story became absurd enough even Mom laughed at her. James didn’t, afraid laughing might irritate his still over-reactive body. Watering eyes, mucus-y throat - he was recovering from a near-death experience! Of course he felt… off. And this was all Sasha’s fault, for making him the damned pancakes in the first place! James had a perfectly rational reason to be angry with her! Sasha was peeved James wasn’t defending her when Mom laughed, but James wasn’t hearing her, not looking in her direction, lost in his own thoughts until Sasha waved a hand in front of his face. James flinched.

“Whoa, there, it’s just me! What’re you looking so scared for?”

“Your pancakes tried to murder me.” James stated, deadpan, entirely too serious internally for a situation that had both women erupting in laughter. Said laughter began a contagion: James started laughing too. Sasha was full-on belly laughing, putting her hand on James’ shoulder, resulting in another flinch setting off yet another round of hysterics. Finally, Mom put an end to the shenanigans, demanding James put his ruined shirt in the laundry and shower.

James showered, and as he did, he tried to convince himself the dreams meant he was just horny. He didn’t have any women he was attracted to in his life, so his subconscious was maybe trying to make Sasha… James wasn’t going to think that into words, he was just going to try to replace the fake imaginary feelings and sensations with real ones, like his own hands chasing his own pleasure.

“You liked that, didn’t you, Sasha had said in his dream as James felt her hands between his legs, softer and smaller but still unwanted, he didn’t want this, he shook his head no but Sasha scoffed, “yeah, you like this, Jamie, you love me. Shhh, just let me love you,” and she kissed his shoulder blade, the back of his neck, her breasts still pressed against his back, rhymthically moving against him.

No, the feeling against his back was just the shower droplets falling. James turned the dial to cold, let the freezing temperature change hurl him out of whatever that was to reality. Someone was knocking on the bathroom door by the time he turned the water off. 

James wore a towel, opening the door to his mom scowling at him. James ignored her, returning to his bedroom, locking his door. He didn't know what happened to him in the shower, if he had remembered something or it was just his mind being weird. Perverted, that's what he had to be to be imagining his sister in these sexual scenarios. Unless they weren't dreams but true memories, the traitorous thought occured to him. Then he was reacting somewhat reasonably to an unreasonable situation. Okay, sure, Sasha was controlling and egotistical, unwilling to accept rejection if it hit her in the face, but she was - James must be losing his mind, he thought to himself, having dressed himself on autopilot. 

He wasn't going to think about his bizarre nightmares any longer, turning his computer on to watch Netflix. Maybe watching pretty women in comedies could fill his unrelated-female-deprived subconscious, James thought as he turned on a romantic comedy. One became three, then James had remembered he had promised to play Minecraft with a bud from university, so he set himself up and video-chatted with Jared.

Jared was doing better in life than James was, at least in the romantic department. He had gone on a few dates with a girl he met on the train, of all places, and on the last date "we made out, man! And she, well, she didn't give me a full on handjob, but she touched my dick. Which, you know, been a while since anyone other than me has."

"Dude, you know I'm trans. Don't have a dick to be touched."

"I forgot! Well, whatever, you know what I meant. How about you? Any lucky ladies in your life?"

"Nope, been focusing on work. You know, tech doesn't exactly welcome women so I can't flirt at the office, and work is basically the only place I go."

"Damn. That sucks. But you take the train to work. That's where I met Miriam, I'm telling you. I just offered to let her hold me when she struggled with almost falling over when the train stopped suddenly, and soon she was talking my ear off about how she was headed to start her first day at the zoo."

"I'll keep it in mind." James' mouth tasted weird, as though hearing about someone else making out had reminded his body of the odd too-wet feeling he had woken up with the prior morning. He had to meet someone, maybe then his brain would cease the sex dreams. James hoped. 

The distraction technique seemed to work for a while - outside of James’ psyche, Sasha had truly kept her distance after the choking incident. James’ dreams now consisted more of characters turning to Sasha after James had initiated something. James was incorporating the dreams into his daydreams, almost as though he was trying to avoid the real reality. James wanted to live in his daydreams, where the manic pixie dream girls made all the moves. James survived a work week of this. Throwing himself into fantasy, occasionally truly entering conversations on the bus like Jared had suggested, only they never bloomed into any further interaction. Still, James sometimes returned home smiling.

One afternoon, just that occurred. James was just chilling on the couch, having been dismissed from work early that day due to a sewage leak in the office building, and he was happy to be home alone. That was a rare occurrence in a house with four people, even though they all worked.

James was blessed with almost an hour of being able to scroll on Reddit, sprawled on the couch, until a slam of the front door had him pulling himself upright. He heard hitched breathing - Sasha was crying her eyes out. James continued sitting on the couch, unsure if Sasha would want to be alone, only she entered the living room on her way to her own bedroom (at least, James hoped she was headed to her own bedroom.

“James. I didn’t know you were home.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure if you wanted space, so -“

“Am I unloveable?” Sasha asked, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. James didn’t know how to respond, so he did the first act that came to mind whenever he heard that word.

“I know I’m unloveable, you don’t have to tell me, for -” James crooned. Sasha glared.

“I’m serious, James! I asked out Eric from Sales, and he reported me to H. R! All I wanted to know was if he was interested?! What’s wrong with me?” James felt for Sasha, who had been pacing as she told him the saga yet stood in front of James when she asked the question. Eric wasn’t the kind of guy James imagined Sasha going for - he was loud-mouthed yet secretive about his personal life. That he reported Sasha was unsurprising - that Sasha was reacting by crying rather than angrily was a shock, one that had James convinced Sasha must have been seriously hurt by this.

“Nothing is wrong with you, Sasha, you just maybe had bad timing? Eric’s a big rule-stickler, you’ve complained about him before, so maybe if you had asked him out after work?”

“He said I’ve been harassing him! That I flaunt my body and I - I’ve been put on unpaid leave while the managers investigate! I don’t think timing was the problem. I think he just doesn’t want the opportunity to love me.” Those words again: love me, you love me, shhhh, just let me love you, Sasha was standing in front of him crying - James’ brain needed to shut up, James thought as he stood, pulling Sasha into a hug.

“Eric’s an idiot. He doesn’t deserve to even look at you.”

“I know,” Sasha said, arms wrapped around James, one hand on his side, weirdly low, James’ traitorous ever-fearful mind thought just before Sasha broke them apart. “I didn’t do anything the other hosts weren’t also doing. Except I didn’t exactly ask him out, Jamie. I - I did something stupid.” Sasha wasn’t looking at James’ face but downwards.

James stepped back towards the couch, leaving the siblings a foot apart. James raised an eyebrow, urging her to continue. Sasha clearly felt ashamed. “But Mr. Davison had done the same to me, and I let him, so I don’t see why at a workplace, somewhere even less regulated than school, anyone cared about me kissing Eric. Or, they wouldn’t have, except he ratted me out because I’m so repulsive he would have preferred losing his job to kissing me back!”

“And would you have stopped at kissing?’’ James questioned, sitting down again because standing felt too similar to lying in bed, being straddled, Sasha having clearly not stopped at kissing - this wasn’t about James.

“I - Mr. Davison -“

“Mr. Davison is in prison for what he did to you and those other girls. I know you still write to him, but you can’t justify - you know what he did wasn’t love, don’t you?” Sasha nodded finally meeting his gaze.

“I - I just want to be loved. Hug me again, Jamie, please.” James was beginning to hate being called Jamie. Still, he stood, wrapping his arms again around his sister, his over-attentive mind having noticed her arm again too low just before Sasha used it, pushing herself against Jamie and Jamie against the couch, hand inside his waistband, warm.

James felt outside of his body as it was held flush against his sister, her legs wrapped around him, her tongue in his mouth. Hadn’t he just a moment ago told her this wasn’t love? James was awake, wasn’t he?

 Sasha did what she wanted before finally tiring, rolling off her brother.

“Thank you for loving me, Jamie. I know we usually keep this little secret at night, but, well, I needed that. You know, maybe we could live forever like this,” Sasha smiled at the thought, pecking James on the lips on final time.

James had been sitting on the couch for hours, barely moving. The sun outside had long since set, and the dim glow from the TV screen only half-lit the room. He was still wrestling with the haze that clouded his mind after everything that had maybe just happened. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was in some twisted version of reality—one where he didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t.

He hadn’t meant for things to go that far, hadn’t meant for Sasha to touch him like that, but then why did it feel so vivid? So tangible? Was he ever going to wake up?