Love Sick: A Short Story

"If I were to, at some point in the future, ask you out on a date, would you be inclined to say yes?"

His eyes narrowed on me, but his smile held. I hadn't realised how silly it sounded until I said it.

"I know it sounds odd," I told him, "but just give me an answer. And no worries if not."

His smile widened as he turned away, tapping the ash of his cigarette. He looked back at me with his beautiful eyes, waited a moment, then said "yeah, I might... be inclined to say yes, I mean."

I took a step back and smiled, letting the cold night's wind blow down the vennel onto me. My body felt hot. My heart had been beating so fast it felt as if it was going to beat itself right out my chest. I should have been relieved, elated even, and to an extend I was, but I had more to say, and now the stakes were higher. My heart now felt as if it were a burning ball burrowing its way down my torso.

"Alright, okay, cool. That's cool," I said, almost out of breath. "That's not me asking you out now, by the way."

He nodded, but his eyes narrowed again. He scanned me up and down as he put his cigarette to his lips. "So," he began, "why do you ask?"

I took a deep breath and swallowed, which wasn't the best idea as the awareness of my throat added to the anxiety. Stepping towards him again, I said "because when I do ask you out... which may be some time, may be a long time, and in that time you are very much free to change your mind or enter other relationships, you are a free man and you do not owe me anything... but when I do ask you out, and if you say yes, then I will take you out on night of your life."

He scoffed at that.

"I mean it," I continued, turning away as I tried to form coherent sentences, "I will bring you on a date you deserve. It will be romantic as fuck. I will dress up for you, I will bring you flowers. I will take you on some structure-based activity, something fun, unique, something I know you will enjoy. Then I will take you for a nice meal, somewhere lovely. And we will talk. I want to know you, not just catching up at the pub, but knowing the details of your life. I want to understand you. And we will walk in the park, I will walk you home. You will feel as beautiful, as beloved, and as understood as you should feel. I want you to have a wonderful night."

The autism radiated off of me as I spoke. It came off more like reciting a speech than speaking from the heart, but to be fair, I had practiced this many times in the mirror, even writing it out as a short story a few times, just to make sure I got it all right. It was important to me that he understood. I turned back and saw him smiling, blushing even. God, he was gorgeous. The patron of my burning heart.

He stifled his smile, looked down, and took another drag of his cigarette, "but you're not asking me out now."

"No," I said, "not now, not yet. But I will, one day. But today, you know I'm not well."

He nodded, he remembered. "Anxiety."

"Amongst other things. This anxiety, it feels like I'm crumbling, decaying inside. It's hard to just hang out with friends, let alone go on dates. Even now, I feel a panic attack coming up my throat, so I can't stay long. I need to get better, healthier, before I can do all the things I want to do. I just need more practice, experience. I need to build myself up. I need to work on getting into town to meet friends without crumbling, work on eating around other people, work on having a full conversation with someone without my heart burning its way through insides."

His eyebrows were raised, mostly in concern, a little in pity. He had seen me at low points, he was aware. He was always so supportive. He had finished his cigarette and was pulling his long leather coat close against himself. My anxiety had warmed me up so much I had forgotten it was cold outside for everyone else, especially he who wore so little. I couldn't go inside the hot sweaty little pub, not in this state, sick with anxiety. I had to wrap this up quick so he could go in and get warm.

"But I will get better, healthier," I assured him, "and when I am well, I will ask you out. One day, I will be able to take you on such a date as you deserve."

"So," he said again, "why ask... now?"

I chuckled at that. I knew the answer, but trying to vocalise it made it sound silly. But I had begun this by saying something silly, so it didn't matter so much.

"Well, firstly, it is a big step in and of itself. Just asking you about asking you out is an experience, one I sorely need. It's a first step to tacking my anxiety, to getting better, healthier."

He smirked and nodded. He began to rub his hands together to keep them warm. They were covered in his little doodles, my hands were covered in his doodles too. His leather coat fell open again and I saw his outfit that he had made himself, the layers of dress as black as night, and all the jewellery and chains that adorned his top. He was so cool.

"And secondly?" he asked, stepping out into the vennel with me.

"Secondly... I want you to know I'm not a coward."

He laughed, it was the sweetest sound. His smile was worth everything.

"I mean it," I continued, "I am bad at hiding my feelings, it is obvious that you know that I have the biggest crush on you, and that I've had it for a while. The longer I leave it unsaid, frankly, the more annoying it becomes for us both. I may not be ready to ask you out on a date just yet, but I'm not afraid to say that I adore you. My body is scared, my brain is scared, but I'm actually a big brave boy, really."

We both laughed. He was standing close to me and I instinctively turned away. Another habit I have to work on. I felt his hand on my shoulder, fixing my scarf that was all twisted up over my coat.

"And how are you feeling now?" he asked. I turned back to him, his eyes were fixated on the scarf, focusing on his work. He was a crafty little man and I loved him for it.

"Not great," I confessed, it was the truth and I could never lie to him, "the attack is coming any second now, but I said what needed to be said. This, actually, is the sixth time I've tried to say it this month. So, progress."

He smirked, "so that's why you've been more sick than usual."

"Yeah, exactly. It took a while, but I got here."

I barely got the last words out as my breath ran out. My head felt light and my throat was both wet and dry. I would prefer to have the fainting kind of panic attacks, at least that could come off as cute or even a little romantic, but I'm saddled with this one.

He held my collar and leaned into my ear, "there's an alleyway just around that corner."

"Thank you," I said lightly, "you go back into the pub, get yourself warm."

I didn't look back at him as I walked off, I had to focus on surviving now. Each step I took brought me closer to the attack. Turning the corner, finally out of sight of all those out on the town, I fell to my knees and started retching. It wasn't a pretty sight, nor the most romantic of ways to end asking someone about asking them on a date, but it was how I was. He had been smiling with me, right up to the end. He understood what I was going through. He was inclined to say yes. Even as I knelt there in pain, I couldn't help but smile. The burning ball in my heart was gone, instead, I just felt warm.