Craving for light

I should have never traveled to another city to get together with a random guy, I know. Deep down, I think meeting him was an excuse for leaving my boring hometown. But I had been saving some money for a while, and I was tired of constantly picking fights with my mom and my stepdad. So when the dating app matched me with Bruno, who only lived 50 miles distantly, I packed my bag and decided to visit him.

We hit it off right away: he welcomed me into his apartment and we melt into a passionate embrace that lasted for hours. I was fascinated by his gothic style, his permanent sunglasses, his dark clothes that covered his body completely, and by his overly sensitive skin. He only took his clothes off when we were in complete darkness, and that, together with his gentle touch, made our nights together enchanting with a bit of mystery. If it had lasted a week or so, it would have been a magical time, an adventure to remember later in life. But in no way it was meant to last: sure, the guy was hot, but also he was a total weirdo. I got tired of him pretty quickly and decided to take a bus to another city the following Friday.

And then it began: the world pandemic, the total lockdown. In my hometown and Bruno’s city, all of our surroundings became hermetic. We were supposed to lock ourselves and don’t set foot outside. The virus could be anywhere. It was not the best time to attempt moving, and I was too proud to hitchhike my way back home. So I tried to make peace with the idea that I was going to linger at this strange guy’s place for at least a couple of weeks. Hey, his cat and I got along well! The place was comfortable, and there was a supermarket nearby in which I could get all the necessary supplies for staying indoors with him.

Because –did I mention this before?– Bruno refused to leave his apartment. He was what Japanese people would refer to as a hikikomori, a modern-day hermit who spent all day inside his room, not even opening the windows or the curtains. He claimed it was a medical condition, some sort of allergy or whatsoever. I didn’t believe him for a second. I just assumed he was mental. 

But now all I could do was to play along. There was no other place for me to go. If I took my chances out there, I could end up in a much worse place, trapped with way more terrifying people, or I could catch the virus and get sick –and die. Bruno was inoffensive, and more: he depended on me. For once in my life, I had the chance to be valuable and helpful to somebody. He was grateful I could put on my face mask, go out there, and do the shopping. I bought food for both of us and the cat. I cleaned the place, and stare at him in disbelief as he locked himself into a closet during the daytime when the sun was shining and I could open up the windows and let gusts of fresh air clean the atmosphere of the apartment. 

For a while, I constantly watched the news in panic. Things were horrible everywhere. The virus knew nothing of boundaries and I thought it was a matter of time before the apocalypse reached Bruno’s place as well: with no one to look up for us, we would both get sick and die, no matter how much I cleaned, no matter how much alcohol we rubbed in our hands. And Bruno was getting worse each day: at first, he only seemed afraid of the sunlight, but then he became frightened of any direct source of light. He kept the lamps off, and what had once seemed sexy now only gave me the creeps. He would not even stare at the TV screen, so watching series or movies together was also out of the picture. 

And still… and still… why did I wait so long to leave him? Was it because I pitied him? In a way yes, but also, because it was somehow pleasing to feel such devotion, such a blind need of me, Chiara, someone who just happened to be around other people but nobody really ever seemed to care for. Not my mom, not my unknown father, not my annoying stepdad… Now Bruno and Kitty were my family, my community. In a world that was falling apart, we had managed to create a close nest, a refuge, a dark little haven for the three of us. I knew that no one could ever love me the unique, strange way Bruno did.

I got used to being the link between him and the outside world. Once or two times a week, I put on my face mask and some rubber gloves, grabbed the bags, and went out for groceries. I paid the bills, I ran the errands, and I tried to get some sunlight on my pale skin. I needed the sunlight as much as Bruno longed for the darkness. In the end, I believe the pandemic was an excuse for him. And that became obvious as months went by and the situation outside slowly began to change. The government relaxed the restrictions. People got used to basic cares, such as the permanent use of a face mask and keeping social distance. The news about vaccines was positive and brought relief everywhere. I told Bruno it wouldn’t harm him to go out for a walk once in a while, at least during the night now that it was allowed, but he refused to. Not only the sun, but the moon also seemed to freak him out by then.

As flights and bus travels were restored, the only thing that kept me from leaving Bruno and his cat was mercy. Yet, in the end, it wasn’t enough. I was desperate for a normal life; I even missed my old home. I got in touch with my mother, who thought I was gone for good but told me I would be welcome at my house anytime. 

So one day, after making sure Bruno had some basic groceries, I packed my stuff and left him. I did it during the morning. The sky was blue, the air outside was fresh. Perhaps I did so for avoiding his last blaming glance, but I prefer to believe I was craving for the sunlight that caressed me as I walked out of that building heading towards the bus station, leaving that place to which I would never, ever come back. 

Note of the author: If you haven’t, I strongly recommend checking my previous submission “Dark enough” because I thought of them as two different sides of the same story.