Nichkhun frowns at the sets of digits and letters screaming at him from his textbook in black and white.

He had been staring at it for so long everything was looking like French, a subject whose exam was looming ever closer. Feelings of anxiety and sheer panic brewed in his stomach.

Math was never Nichkhun’s forte. Not his worst subject, by far, but certainly not his best. While he accepts his own failure in other things, after all nobody is perfect, math seemed to provide him with the most frustration. The answer was always set. The answer was always something, there were never loopholes or variations. God created the Heavens and the Earth and ordained that 1+1 always equals 2, 1-1 always equals 0.

Nichkhun didn’t like that. He didn’t believe that. Nothing in the universe is finite, and nothing should be finite. That would be tedious and boring and—

Bzzzz.

His cell phone vibrates wildly on his desk, flashing “VIC” in bright blue neon letters. He turns away from his the numbers and the papers, grabs the cell phone and brings it up to his ear with a rather relieved sigh.

“Your timing could not be better,” says the light-haired man, rubbing his forehead in aggravation. “I’m so tired of math.”

While he could hear the distinct noise of wind and voices in the background, Nichkhun received no reply. He frowns unconsciously, black eyes staring out the window of his dorm at his campus. It was dark outside. The wind was howling viciously; tree clattered against the glass like bones. It was November, and Toronto was especially cold on such days when the wind was nothing but vaporous iceberg.

The brew in his stomach boils hotter.

“Vic? Victoria…you there?” he asks somewhat worriedly.

“Khuuuuuunie…” comes a girl’s voice, happily whiny, sounding almost like champagne bubbles.

Recognizing the visible inflections in his friend’s voice, Nichkhun heaves a weary sigh as he rests his head in his hand.

“Vic, are you drunk again?” he inquires softly.

“Noooooooooo…” she responds drolly and then giggles.

Shaking his head, he stands from his desk and grabs his jacket, sitting comfortably on his bed. “Vic, where are you?” he asks, his chin holding his phone to his shoulder as he slips into his jacket. Just before he leaves his dorm room, he grabs a buttoned sweater from his closet, knowing full well that wherever Victoria was, she probably lost her coat again.

“I’m not druuuuunk,” she moans cheerfully.

Nichkhun walks down his dorm hall rapidly. “Sure. Where are you?”

“I’m…I’m…at Coco’s. In the Village.”

“Yes, yes, I know where it is. Is Diane there?” he asks, stepping out of the building and into the chilly streets of Toronto, his shoes click against the damp grey pavement.

“I don’t think sooooo…She went home with Jaaaaaaaay, I think.”

“Just stay there, okay?” he says as he checks the Wellesley Street bus schedule heading towards Church Street, noticing that he was in luck with only five minutes or so to wait. “Don’t go wandering off anywhere. Vic? Vic, are you listening to me?”

“Awwwwwwwwwww!” she moans happily. “You’re coming to get meeeeeee?”

“I can’t exactly leave you there. What would Fany say?” he grins lightly as he steps onto the bus. “Don’t wander off—listen, Vic, don’t wander off, okay? I dunno how to find you if you wander somewhere.”

“Oh, I’m on Church! It’s the Gay Village, I’m like the only in a three block radiusssssss! It’s like finding a bright purple glowstick in a haaaaaaaaay stack.” She laughs at her own joke. Nichkhun smiles and shakes his head.

“Just don’t go anywhere, Vic, okay?”

“Khuuuuuuuuuuuuunie you’resosweetandniceandohmygodhowareyoustraightyou’resoniceeeeeeee!”

“What?”

“I love you…” His smile falters. “You’re like the gay BFF I never haaaaaaaaaaaaaaad!”

Closing his eyes, he sighs. “Sure…” He pauses for a moment, listening to Victoria’s happy breathing. “Vic?”

“Yeeeeeeees Mr. Hor…Hor…Horjev…Horkev…Horse—”

“Okay, please stop butchering my last name. I think my grandfather is like crying somewhere,” he says sardonically. “Vic…Vic?”

“Uh-huuuuuuh?”

“Why are you drunk?”

“I’m not druuuuuuuuuuunk…”

“What happened? Why are you at Coco’s?”

“’Cause I love drag queens, they’re like so awesome and boas are just so shibby…” He could practically hear her beam.

“No, Vic, listen to me…why are you drunk on a Wednesday night at Coco’s?” he asks. “Why are you drinking? What happened?” He pauses, suddenly remembering what Victoria’s roommate Tiffany told him. “Is it…does it have anything to do with Billy?”

There’s a distinctive pause, and for a moment Nichkhun thought she got angry and hung up on him, but he could hear “It’s rainin’ men! Hallelujah!” in the background. “Vic? Victoria? Are you there?” he asks gently. “Are you angry at me?”

“…no,” she finally whispers, sounding slightly more sober. “I’m not angry…and I can drink on a Wednesday if I wanna!”

“Vic, do you wanna talk?” Nichkhun sighs, leaning back on his seat, letting the back of his head rest against the cold glass of the bus. He looks upward at the various colourful ads.

“Noooooooooooooooo…I have nothing to say, I’m fine.” He could hear her stop breathing for a moment. “I’m…I’m fine.”

Nichkhun doesn’t say anything. He stares up at the bus lights, listening to the music of Coco’s through the cell phone. He knew she wasn’t fine. She wasn’t the type of person to go out drinking on a Wednesday, especially unprovoked. If Nicole or Rachel or Gia was with her, he’d believe it was okay. But he could see her—sitting alone at the bar at Coco’s, drinking her favourite Sweet Sherry, her chin resting lazily on the counter. Her long raven locks flowing against the table like velvet because she hated tying it up. Victoria was always a bad drunk. She always forgot things, and Nichkhun was sure she was sitting without her coat.

“It’s okay, you know…not to be fine…” he says quietly.

Victoria doesn’t reply. Nichkhun doesn’t know if she was listening anymore. He leans up as the bus draws to a stop. He gets off, the wind rushing against his face. He lifts up the collars of his jacket.

“Vic, I’m on Church now,” he says. “Vic? You there?”

She wasn’t answering, but he could hear her breathing.

He doesn’t hang up. Sweater in hand, he runs down the block as fast as he can. With each breath, she seemed to drive him forward, pull him closer. Almost like she was calling out to him, begging him to find her.

Nichkhun doesn’t choose to dissect why Victoria always drunk dials him. She only called him when she was drunk. Otherwise, it was all voiceless texts. She never called him, unless she was inebriated and vulnerable, when all her shields were down. The night wind whips past him, burning his face. But he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t care anymore of the whys. If this is all she lets him do, then it’s okay.

Gasping, Nichkhun stops in front of a bright pearly pink bar. The words Coco’s looks down at him in glittering neon. He pushes open the door and spots Victoria instantly amongst the other more vibrant patrons with their bright sequenced outfits, red boas and impressive wigs.

“Hello handsome,” a comically large drag queen says to him in a smooth voice. Nichkhun smiles weakly as he makes his way over to the dark haired girl, who, he had realized, was asleep.

“Well hello, Nichkhun,” says the bartender, a bald man in leather.

“Hey Sandy,” he says, gesturing to Victoria. “How long has she been here?”

“Oh a while, I think. I just came in to replace Midge,” he replies. Sandy looks at Victoria and shakes his head. “Poor thing. Must be guy trouble. I’ve seen it plenty. It took everything in my to wretch that bottle away from her.”

Nichkhun frowns. “Bottle?”

Sandy lifts a tall bottle of Green Apple Smirnoff vodka from behind the counter and places it on the bar. The light-haired man notices it only had a quarter left. “She brought this with her.”

“This is hers?” he asks, incredulous, grabbing the bottle into his hand and studying it.

“I guess she’s been nursing this thing for a while.”

Nichkhun sighs as he turns to look at the sleeping girl. Her face was pressed up against the bar counter, and she had, indeed, he notes, forgotten her coat. He gently lifts her up and slips it onto her. It’s large enough to shield her perfectly.

“Sure nice of you to come pick her up,” Sandy says with a smile. “Let me call you a cab.”

“Thanks, Sandy,” Nichkhun says, looking at Victoria. He brushes the hair out of her face. She was all pink. Her eyes look swollen, as if she had been crying for a long time. “Did she tell you what happened?”

“No…I tried,” Sandy sighs. “What about you?”

“Nothing. She says she’s fine, but, obviously she isn’t,” Nichkhun says, sitting down beside Victoria.

“But it is about a guy, right?”

Nichkhun smiles sadly and nods. “Yeah…today…is kind of a bad day for her. Her…her fiancée died today.”

“Oh good Lord,” Sandy yelps lightly. “Today?”

“It’s the anniversary of his death. He past away two years ago. Her roommate told me about it.” Nichkhun pauses. “Victoria never likes to talk about it. She won’t ever talk about it, and then she gets like this…I…I hate seeing her like this.” He peers at the sleeping girl, watching her breath lightly, her eyes getting wet. She was dreaming, he could see that, dreaming about when 1+1 meant more than just 2.

But for Nichkhun, 1+1 didn’t mean anything, because no matter what he did, Victoria still saw a world where 1-1 was zero.

Sandy sighs. “You…love her,” the bartender says sadly.

Nichkhun grins as he brushes Victoria’s dark locks behind her ear, his thumb grazing her cheek to whip away a tear. “Doesn’t mean anything if she doesn’t want it to.” He looks up, noticing a cab had arrived. He turns to Sandy with a smile. “Thanks, Sandy. Keep the vodka, I don’t think she’s gonna need it.”

“Sure, Nichkhun. See you around.”

Slowly, the light-haired man lifts the sleeping girl into his arms. She moans and moves gently in his arms. “Khun…?” she mumbles. “Wha…?”

“Time to go home, Vic,” he says as he pushes open the door with his back. The cab driver pulls open the door and he slips Victoria into the back seat. “St. George Campus,” he says to the cab driver.

“Khun…ssanks…” she murmurs. Her head falls onto his shoulder.

Nichkhun looks down at her and smiles softly. “No problem.”

As he looks out of the cab window at the glittering lights of the city, listening to the soft whisper of Victoria’s breath, Nichkhun wonders about math.

He wonders if this really was it—that God created the Heavens and the Earth and ordained that 1-1 equals 0.

He’d like to think—liked to hope—that maybe things weren’t so straightforward.

Maybe, 1-1 didn’t equal nothing.

Maybe, 1+1 could be more than just 2.

Maybe—



 

Fin.