Short Story: Larcenous

He wakes up this morning to a beautiful euphony. His dick stiff and his bones aching from last night’s happy hour duty. It’s a Sunday morning, Asa is playing over the radio – Subway, an eccentric melody that feeds the soul and soothes everything it touches. He stretches and turns to his side, and he sees Angela lying beside him. Last night was one of a kind, they couldn’t get any sleep, thankfully this time, it hadn’t been one of their fights.

He sits silently for a while, watching her chest rise and fall in easy breathing, her dark curls covering most part of her face and her fingers twitch slightly, then settle down again as she sighs in her sleep. ‘She’s so beautiful when she’s not nagging,’ he thinks as he tucks her hair behind her ear, and a beautiful smile tinges her cheek. Really, she is pretty and she takes his breath away. He leans forward, his fingers in between hers and he presses a kiss against her temple. There, the memory of last night dinner flashes behind his eyelids.

“I am happy I met you.” She said.

She had told him amidst their meshed lips, and he couldn’t help but smile. For a moment, he let the thought of the moment wash over him, and just suddenly he felt a painful twitch in his chest.

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What if she knows? He thought. The grave thought sends shivers down his spine and his heart clenches in fear. 

What if she finds out? He almost felt his body tighten in fear.

He had laid with Segun the same way he lies with her now and for several mornings. A sick feeling spreads to his limbs, a soreness that makes his skin quiver. Every sound is suddenly too loud, Subway is no longer soul-soothing and his heart won’t stop racing in his chest. Most mornings are like this for him, cold and sad. He wakes up every morning with a huge ball of guilt in his stomach. This feeling of everything being wrong and knowing that it’s all his fault.

But this never happens with Segun. Mornings with Segun are warm and gentle. His heart radiates only happiness and immense joy and the air smells of truth and freedom.

What if she finds out? The thought bit at him again.

Neither he nor his story is straight, he thought. His heart tightens again, tears gather at the shores of his eyes, and the air in the room suddenly smells stale and heavy.


What if she knows Segun calls him “Obi’m” too?

How come she doesn’t know anything?

How did she not know he was wearing a different pair of trousers last night?

How come she didn’t see the trousers were different from what he had left in that morning?

What if she knows he had had to rush here, not from work but from him?

He sat up straight, arms curled up on his laps. His eyes fixed on Angela, taking her in as the morning light flickers over her lips and cheek. He tried to stop it, but his mind ran off again in thoughts.

What if she knows it was Segun’s trousers?

What if she finds out they had just finished, both of them still sprawled on the bed, buck naked after a hot happy hour section when her call came in?

What if she knows he enjoys sex better with Segun?

What if she knows he only pretended to remember it was their 4th anniversary yesterday.

What if she knows he celebrated his 7th anniversary with Segun last month?

What happens when she finds out he likes boys, will she still be happy she met him?

He inhaled deeply, allowing himself to calm down.

What if she finds out and decides to stay? He thought. He quickly reprimanded himself for entertaining such a foolish idea. How could that ever be possible? He lays back on the bed, pulls the covers over his nose, and stares blankly at the clock on the wall that claims the time is already ten o’clock. Asa is still playing over the radio, filling the air:

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I have waited patiently
And this is what I get?
My mama say baby be careful
If anybody comes to say I love you
My papa say baby I warn you
If anybody comes to say I love you
Now you ask me to trust you
Tell me how am I supposed to
When I know this love don’t last
Could this be the kind of love
That my mum used to warn me about?
How will I know that this love will last?

He suddenly realized Angela was singing along to the beautiful melody on the radio. He thought it sounded like her words were meant for him, questioning him.

“Dray, will this love last?”

Something rose slowly from the lower edge of his eyes and the light leaking from the fluttering curtain made them glisten. He was crying, without a sound, without any movement.

Damilare Rafiu, is a creative writer with a mind that never sleeps. My passion for everything Artistic, contemporary, and unearthly is more than an obsession. Not shy, yet not the outdoorsy type except you are serving Akara. Based in Lagos.

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