Samuel Simons vs. football and his one friend

I was fully expecting him to not be here when I woke up, but that doesn’t change how shit it feels. I don’t get around like this very much, but when I do I still feel a bit disgusted with myself after. I find myself wondering how anyone actually likes sex.

I groan a bit as I sit up to check the time on my phone. It’s 10am, so at least I haven’t wasted too much of the day by sleeping in. I’m lucky enough to have today off, at least, so I don’t have to face Matt or any of my coworkers, or look any of them in the eye, or go near any of them, or… yeah, I’m really not feeling the whole “being a social, well-rounded member of society” thing today.

That is until I get a text from Anthony, reading:

“Sorry I left so quickly, got stuff to get to. Last night was great!” With a winky face emoji at the end. We must’ve exchanged numbers at some point last night but I don’t remember it for the life of me. God, my head hurts, how much did I even drink…? I suddenly regret sitting up and immediately lay back down to stop the room from spinning. Usually I’d down some Lucozade and pray that the sugar intake tackled the feeling of wanting to die, but I can’t find it in me to get out of bed for at least an hour or two. I don’t really want to face myself after…

That’s a bit dramatic, isn’t it? It’s just sex, I’m an adult, nothing wrong with it. But it felt wrong.

I’m really not in the headspace for questioning all that right now, though, because currently I want to tear my eyes from their sockets. All I remember from the night before is letting Anthony in, both of us drinking a fair bit, talking… What did we talk about? God, I hope I didn’t tell him anything embarrassing, he does not need to know about all the odd ways I tried to look more like a guy as an awkward trans teen. And then the obvious, of course. I can’t believe I fucked a guy after one day of knowing him, where did my manners go? Was I that desperate to not have to think for an evening? Because if so, there were definitely better ways to go about it that didn’t require essentially letting a stranger into my house.

I feel the sudden urge to make sure everything is still in its right place, but I don’t think I could get up.

I decide that, for an hour, I’m just going to lay here and scroll aimlessly on whichever social media app sticks out to me the most

I watch about 100 tiktoks about HTML scripting, cats doing dumb shit, symptoms for various mental illnesses and neurodivergence, how to get blood stains out of clothes, tips for getting more sleep at night and how to fake your own death and disappear from society forever without a trace of your existence (something i’d very much like to do sometimes). Then I find the will to get out of bed, ignoring the ache in my back as I go to my bathroom to try and take a shower. Except that doesn’t happen, because I can’t bring myself to take off any clothes, so I settle for brushing my teeth, washing my face and calling it a day. I go to sit in my living room for a slight change of scenery, and I turn on the TV to Sky Sports because Mathew has cursed me with their love of Football. Liverpool are apparently now losing, and there are some men in what I think is the Crystal Palace uniform chanting “We’re gonna win the league!”, which is something Matt told me would realistically never happen. I turn the channel off and instead load into Netflix and decide to finally watch My Neighbour Totoro, because if I have to hear one more thing about how I need to watch Studio Ghibli movies, I am actually going to die.

In reality, I never get to start the movie because the moment I hit play I hear a knock at the door. For a second I consider the possibility that it’s Anthony coming to apologise for ditching me, and I nearly feel angry at that. I immediately push it down, and I tear myself off of the sofa and slump to the door to unlock it.

“Samuel, you dick, you didn’t tell me you’d had company last night!” Says a very enthusiastic Matt, who I let in and lead to my sofa. They’re dressed up in much nicer clothes than are needed for this time of day, and have about double their normal piercings in. I go to my kitchen to make them and me a cup of tea.

“How the hell did you know that?” I call through as I fill the kettle. It makes a hissing noise as it begins to boil.

“Because the guy is still downstairs?”

“Why is he still downstairs?”

They shrug, and I pour the water into two cups, one for myself with just milk, and one for Matt with sugar.

“He said something about having a late train? Dunno how he fucked that one up.” They sniggered and I handed them their tea, sitting down next to them and leaning my head on their shoulder.

“It would be polite to invite him back up here, right?” I mumble, turning the movie on at a low volume.

“Probably.”

“...Do I have to?”

Matt snorted. “No.”

“Thank god.”

We sit in a comfortable silence for a bit, sipping tea and watching the movie, but I’m not really focusing on it. I’m thinking a bit about how I got here, how I went from being alone to knowing someone nice enough to come check in on me, not caring about how much of a mess I am. Matt is actually my polar opposite. They’re sociable, kind, and confident… likable, I think about sums it up. I’m not. Oh, wow, that sounds sad. Christ, when did I get so…

“Sam?” Matt says, poking me in the cheek.

“Yes, dearest chum?”

Matt laughs a bit, rolling their eyes.

“Seriously, somethings up. Was he really that bad at it?”

I go a tiny bit red at having to think back on the situation to figure it out.

“I mean… no? How do you even tell?”

“Given my wealth of experience-“ I smother Matt's mouth with my hand, grimacing.

“I don’t need that much detail, mate.”

“Fine, fine, but it’s like- like you kind of just know? You’ll feel really shitty after.”

I want to say that I always feel shitty after, but that sounds a bit like I’ve just never had a good sex experience in my life, and that just sounds sad. So I, instead, sigh and pull my blanket further over myself.

“Right. That helps.” I mutter sarcastically, and Matt gives me a soft glare before turning back to the TV.

I find my gaze drifting away from the film occasionally, getting lost in thought and then regaining focus again. It’s a strange feeling when that happens. Feels a bit like you're drifting. Occasionally something coherent will make it through the daze but not often. Before I know it, my tea’s gone cold and I notice Matt staring at me with furrowed brows.

“Sam, you’ve seemed-” They cut themself off mid-sentence, and I look at them curiously before they shake their head. “Never mind.”

Matt sighs, slapping their knees before standing up.

“I’m gonna head off, alright?” They wrap their arms around me in a tight hug, and I return it, smiling a little.

“You’re seeing Andrea, yeah? Tell her I say hello.” I say as Matt ruffles my hair.

“I will, don’t worry. You really should come out with us sometime.” They take their mug to the sink before walking up to the door, looking back at me with a sympathetic smile. “And when you’re ready to tell me what's really wrong, you know I'll listen.”

I can’t muster up a response to that, so I just nod and they seem to take that as a good enough answer. They open the door to leave and hesitate just a little, but when they exit they mouth to me ‘good luck’. I’ve no idea what with, but when they’re out the way I see-

“Anthony?” I stare at him, mouth hanging open a bit in confusion.

“Sam! I, uh- wanted to talk.”