Chapter 1: Identity

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Gay and Lesbian  |  House: Booksie Classic

Reads: 410
Comments: 1

Memories can get you at the most weirdest times. You can be going on about your business, doing what you’re used to and then – bam! The most veiled memories can haunt you. For example, one of the memories could be about your ex and the way he used to hold your hand when both of you guys would be walking home after the sun had set. Or the way he used to tell you not to cry because you were ugly when you did. Or the romantic way he used to tell you he liked you, but he thinks as a friend. 

Of course, most of the time, they’re triggered by something. You can be walking down an aisle of a store and walk past the rows and rows of colored boxes filled with sugary cereal and you think of him and how he always preferred the shredded wheat compared to the chocolate and peanut butter flavored ones. Say, maybe you’re in an album store, shifting through the newest releases box and find a Sugarcubes cd. Then, all of the sudden, out of the blue, you think of him and how he always used to say he loved the singer but hated them live. 

Or maybe, they’re triggered by the fact that your ex, Jökell Kristmundursson, is standing at your door and asking to come in. His hands are tucked away in his pants pocket and he’s looking in the slit of the door, studying your new apartment. 

“Are you okay, Ketill? You’re acting very off,” he says. I pick at the paint on the door frame, forcing the chips under my nails. My stomach feels like a wet paper bag. My mind is racing like…fuck. I can’t think of anything clever. 

“Can I come in or something? I’m freezing.” 

The winter air chills my arms as I open the door wider. As the door closes, Jökell kicks his sneakers off into the pile on the rug and shoves his coat at me. 

Awkwardly, both of us stand there, letting the warmth surround us. Both of us remember the last time we were together, at least I do. That time was terribly awkward too. 

So, to make conversation, I say, “At least you’re not in your underwear this time.” 

He scoffs and moves onto the kitchen. 



We find ourselves in the kitchen, sitting at the kitchenette. The first thing he had asked me to do was make him a pot of tea. 

“Why are you even here?” I asked. 

He shifts his body around and sits more straight up. “Can’t I miss you?” 

The pot whistles and I jump up. 

For a second, I’m scared. For another second after I’m aroused. For another second after that second, I’m pissed. 

These are just the same feelings I felt three years ago. 

He continues with, “Don’t you miss me too?” 

I hate him. He’s scum. 

“Not really. Did you hear that I’ve got a girlfriend? Her name is Katrín and she works as a nurse and she’s–” 

He noisily sips his cup and asks, “No. Are you sure she isn’t a man? Have you had sex with her?” 

“When you’re in love, Jökull, it’s calling making love, for one thing. Another thing, it’s really none of your business.” 

He looks me in the eyes this time and scoffs again. 

“So what the fuck was it when we did it?” 

Submitted: January 14, 2014

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Loving it KMU

Sun, January 26th, 2014 5:00am

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