Chapter 1: Tired of Sex

November 3rd, Sunday

Hunter woke up in a random person's bedroom, plagued by the worst headache he had ever experienced. As he took in his surroundings, he immediately realized he wasn't in his own home due to the strikingly pleasant appearance of the room. Resting upon a queen-sized bed, he rubbed his eyes and strained to focus, noticing a table adorned with numerous books, some of which he recognized from his own studies.

Glancing beside him, he found a slumbering girl, his frustration growing bigger as he struggled to recall her name. "Was she the sporty one or the cheerleader? What were even their names... Jasmine, Lynn, hmmm Gwen?" He didn't bother dwelling on it further. He had woken up before her, luckily, and gathered his belongings to head home. How did he end up in this situation? He asked himself. He vaguely remembered the party he attended the previous night, memories of the previous night's party flickered in his mind. Faces and names blurred together, an amalgamation of fleeting connections.

Lately, he had been going out more than he liked, and it always followed the same pattern. Girls would approach him, finding him attractive (although he didn't see himself that way), and he would give in to their advances while under the influence. But in the morning, all the love and care disappeared. He always wanted more, but deep down, he knew it wouldn't work.

As Hunter stepped out of the apartment, he took a deep breath of the crisp, invigorating morning air. His nose wasn't quite used to it yet, so it pulled a strange move and made his eyes water. For a moment, he wondered if this was more of an emotional response rather than just a normal bodily reaction.

On his way home, he passed by his old high school and started reminiscing about the memories he had accumulated within those walls, the short friendships he had made and the experiences that shaped him. But now, as he continued his studies at Gravesfield University, he felt disconnected, adrift in a sea of anonymity. Nobody really knew him or was intrested in doing so.

Hunter struggled to recall what Gravesfield had to offer. He vaguely remembered some of its history, like the tale of the Wittebane brothers. According to local lore, the brothers had disappeared into a "Demon Realm", supposedly lured there by a witch named Evelyn. Hunter dismissed the story as mere legend, though a part of him secretly wished it were true. Maybe such a place could provide the adventure and purpose he craved.

As he continued walking, Hunter mentally listed some notable places in the town. The town square caught his attention, featuring a statue of the Wittebane brothers. Across the street, there was Robin's Roast Café, known for an incident where a woman tried to pay for her latte with a live raccoon. He didn't remembere much of it, focusing instead on his poetry. Hunter chuckled at the absurdity of it all, briefly distracted from his own struggles.

Poetry is something he started recently, doing it as a distraction from studies and everyday live. He always could recite each one perfectly and then he remembered his recent one:

In weary depths, my soul resides

Fatigue envelops, no respite

Exhaustion of echoes the weight

From endless cycles I can't escape

-

Monday's eve, entwined with Jen

Tuesday's dance, with Gwen

Wednesday's twist, embracing Cath

Yearning for love's sweet aftermath

-

But loneliness has claimed me forceful

My face beet red, my heart, remorseful

I apologize for words misspent

A sinner's struggle, unable to relent.

The poem perfectly captured his current state of mind.

Arriving home, Hunter looked at his living conditions. He never bothered to get a proper bed, so he settled for a mattress on the floor. An old, broken office chair served as his only occasional seating option. A old gaming system with 2 Controllers he brought with him, hooked up to an old TV, a great time waster when Gus comes over. His table was currently cluttered with empty bottles, a testament to his indulgence. He owned a cassette player that he had received as a parting gift from his uncle, or perhaps his uncle wanted to rid himself of it. Because of his penchant for old things, Hunter's friend Gus affectionately called him an old man, despite the fact that he had only recently turned 20. Hunter didn't want to feel old yet, but his younger friend's remark always lingered in the back of his mind.

Thoughts of his uncle brought back memories that stirred a mix of emotions within Hunter. Memories of how he had taken care of Hunter after his parents passed away. Although it was difficult to classify his uncle's actions and doings as caring, he did provide a place to live. Hunter grew up with his older cousin, whom he affectionately referred to as "Kiki."

He considered her an older sister and appreciated her support during his uncle's frequent absences. Cooking food when his Uncle didn't bother making some for him or helping him with his homework when the man was too fed up with work to help the young boy. However, when college started, he distanced himself from her. It wasn't because he was deliberately ignoring her like his uncle did, he simply didn't want to burden her with his own problems, doubts, and fears. He believed it was best to leave her alone, not wanting to lose another person from his life.

Hunter opened his drawer and grabbed a pair of boxers and an oversized T-shirt, his preferred attire for comfort. Feeling dirty after his encounter with Jen... or was it Denise? He decided to take a shower. Standing before the cracked mirror, he pondered why it was damaged but couldn't recall the reason. Maybe he had punched it out of anger one day or perhaps it was already broken when he moved into the cheap apartment. However, his attention was drawn to the imperfections he saw in himself: a gray spots in his hair, a hooked nose, a tooth gap, heavy eye bags from the lack of sleep, and bushy eyebrows. And then, there was the elephant in the room, an extensive scar on his lower body.

He disliked discussing it and never bothered to address it, not even with Kiki or Gus. Although the physical wound had healed, the emotional scars remained. After a shower that failed to wash away his inner turmoil and accidentally nicking himself while shaving, he prepared some food.

Sunday nights were reserved for his favourite food, a plate of rice with ketchup. Hunter had always enjoyed unusual food combinations and often received strange looks when ordering at Subway. But he didn't mind. What mattered was his own enjoyment. He grabbed his phone and started watching a four-hour-long analysis video of a video game he had no intention of playing. Altough the game didn't look visually appealing, it was the story and the gameplay that he was hooked on. After all why not, he thought, it was a great distraction from his problems.

After finishing his meal/video and cleaning up, he returned to his room and lay down on his mattress. Hunter took a moment to examine his surroundings again. The lack of personal touches, the clutter of empty bottles, and the worn-out furniture reflected his disconnected state.

He reached for his phone, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram, looking at posts by people he knew but didn't really know. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy when seeing pictures of people with their girlfriends, boyfriends, or friends in general. Hunter was observing the curated lives of others with a mix of envy and self-pity. Although he had Gus, his best friend, there were times when Gus was busy, and he craved someone else to talk to. He scrolled until he felt tired enough, paying no attention to the time. It was probably very late, maybe even the next day.

As the weight of his weariness pulled him into sleep, Hunter's last thoughts centered around his own poem. He added one last line that encapsulated the frustration and longing he felt.

I'm so tired

By me, sex is not desired

I'm spread so thin

Feeling like my whole life is a sin

It was a silent plea for something more meaningful than the shallow encounters he had grown accustomed to. His dreams danced with fragments of forgotten faces and lost opportunities, leaving him to wonder if there was a way to break free from this cycle and find the connection he truly desired.

And so, as the night embraced Hunter, he drifted into a restless slumber, hoping that the answers he sought would soon reveal themselves, and that he could find a path towards a life less tired and more fulfilled.


AN:

Hello,

this is my first time posting a story here. Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoy it. I've changed some things around and I hope you don't mind it all to much. For now it's a one-shot but if there is intrested in this thingy i'll continue it. And if you ask, yes this is inspired by Pinkerton, go listened to it if you haven't.

All the best and hope you come back soon.

That Guy.