Stitches

"So it has been eight years, huh?" Darwin asked while we were lying on his bed that night.

"Yes." I answered him while my arms were placed at the back of my head and staring at the ceiling.

Darwin was my first and last fubu. He was the first person to let me realize that sex does not equate love.

"A lot has changed from you." He told me.

"I know. I'm not the same chubby guy you used to know, well, not much though." I replied.

"No, no, that's not what I meant." He looked at me, into my eyes.

"I remember how you used to be a hopeless romantic."

"I was that type of guy."

"Yes you were, G."

"I'm not that type of person now." I looked at him and returned back at looking at the ceiling.

"I can still remember how you were the type of sweet guy, someone who would fall easily because of your sweetness. You used to be that guy who would say f*ck off! I'm committed!"

"Well Darwin, people change. I have changed since I met you, after I met guys, and slept with them." I made a deep sigh.

"I understand, G."

"But I just can't help to remember how you were that guy."


"Sometimes Darwin, I can't help but think who I was too. If I hadn't met you back then or if I didn't go out to the scene. I often wonder what I would be now." I shook my head.

"But we cannot go back now, may be people define us of who we were but people change, everyone knows that." I told him while slowly trying to sit on top of him.

He placed his arms at the back of his head and smiled at me. "But I think G, you were still that chubby boy I used to know, not completely changed in some but still different."

I pecked his cheek, thanked him, and told him I needed to go home