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Robert’s dad used to have a cassette and CD player. A nifty hunk of metal and plastic. If you happened to find yourself in his apartment, looking at the bare walls, you may get lucky and find his small collection of physical music, tucked just under the single mattress. The music player, on a barren desk, well small table more like, with the cable leading a path to the plug socket.
He didn’t know when it happened. Maybe when he came out, or moved. Maybe when it ended with his first girlfriend or when he finally had the surgery that had him feel more free. After his father had passed, it had given him the chance to breathe properly. Maybe his father’s disapproving comments abruptly stopping became a fucked up blessing. Like he was looking at himself in the mirror for the first time and saw himself instead of a poor recreation of what he wanted to be, without pushback and forced doubt and just. It was different now. Better.
After his passing his dads large music collection had slowly emptied. Donations, or selling for some extra cash for the Mechaman suits. Illogical since money was never an issue. At least not until Shroud had caused so much damage and upended his life. Even his father didn’t have much left in the physical world when it ended, bittersweet memories at best and abusive at worst. A fund that had lasted him, well, until now. Despite at times having extra cash, Robert struggled to take joy in what life has to offer. Going to a local gig or enjoying an overpriced sweet drink.Instead he buried himself into his work and planned out the logistics on how his short term disappearance could be written off as a blip in this generation’s Mechaman’s career.
The custom cassette played a squeaky tune. He needed to oil the tapes. A continued deterioration to no one's fault but his own. A show of a consistent increasing disconnect to physical material.
You’re out of touch
Blondie. Visi. Phen. He’s not sure why he thought it would work. Anything. Why he was so certain about something so fickle, people’s feelings were always so volatile.
Robert was lying on his mattress, a lumpy pillow under him and a worn blanket half strewn over him as he wasted away in his bedroom. One CD and cassette next to him, the CD from some local band he went to when he was a kid. Before everything. Robert held memories with that CD, back when binders pushed down his lungs and perked up his shoulders more than before from feeling comfortable for once, back when his hair was shoulder length as a form of attempting to break gender rules during his rebellious phase whilst attempting to look masculine, with chipped black nails and white and black string he DIY’ed into bracelets and necklaces. Chin up and defiance in his eyes. The cassette case, standing tall on the spine side with a list of title songs facing Robert. 24. 12 on each side. The cassette, a gift from Phenomeman.
The alien struggled with understanding customs. That cassette had truly changed Robert’s perspective, however. He remembered, on a late night at his with a couple of beers on the floor and his phone as a makeshift TV in front of the both of them as they sat on the floor of his living room. They were watching an old school movie, maybe based around the 90s.
“Robert, I do not understand this contraption that is being used to play music. I thought that is what humans used phones for,” Phenomeman had enquired, a look of confusion in his eyes similar to a puppy’s.
“Yeah, well. We do use our phones nowadays for music. But, well, back then technology was different. When I was a kid we used stuff like MP3 players and flip phones,” God he missed his fliphone, “but well, it’s different now. More convenience and improvement, sort of, I guess,” Now is not the time to over think technology advances and capitalism. This had not helped Phenomeman, as he now looked like he was thinking too hard.
“I believe I understand. So that box with another box inside, it’s called an MP3 player, yes? But what is the gesture behind it? Why did the character on screen have such an…odd reaction to receiving it?”
Shit. He knew introducing this show to Phenomeman wasn’t a good idea. I mean seriously, how do you explain a slow burn gay angel and emotionally suppressed character to an alien? Well, they were here now, on season 12 episode 19, with the mixtape scene having played out.
“No, that ‘box’ is called a cassette and the thing the guy put it in was, well, a cassette player. It's different now. Sort of. Because we don’t really use cassettes and it’s rare to own one,” Ironically making the act of giving someone a cassette player now even more intimate, Robert conceded, “Anyway, back then during that time, you would usually do it for someone you liked. Sort of like a love letter or giving someone flowers. It doesn’t have to be romantic but it could be, y’know?”
Phenomeman blinked, still staring intently at him, “I understand Robert. Humans have such interesting ways to non directly show their feelings, I see.”
Robert snorted, “Yeah yeah buddy, would you like another beer?”
“No, I prefer the fermented fruit this earth has to offer. I only drink beer out of thanks for you welcoming me into your home, thank you Robert.”
He couldn’t help but huff as he made his way over to the fridge. Phenomeman does try. In his own way. Getting to know the guy better had warmed his heart overtime.
Cold. It was very cold. The blanket wasn’t helping, pulling a groan out of Robert. He did not care enough to buy a new blanket but he also hated the cold.
Sunday’s were normally like this. He couldn’t really forget. Not when he was in his room like this. A sad reminder he forgot he was meant to acknowledge was an issue. Bare walls and no bedframe, with a heavy void settled into his chest.
I’m out of time
It never would have worked with Invisigal, he wasn't the type to save and she didn't need saving. Maybe he foolishly viewed her as a manic pixie girl when in reality she was just human. That’s where it went wrong.
…ignoring her creepy tendencies.
But I’m out of my head when your not around
Phenomeman.
Reaching out for something to hold
Perhaps he was just looking for something, something greater himself. The freedom Invisigal has that he craves, or the power phenomenon holds simply from being born. God given powers by chance.
Or Blonde Blazer. She was a walking stereotype of the blonde blue eyed chick with a perfect body, boyfriend, life.
He couldn’t help feeling jealous. The freedom of being okay in your body. Comfortable enough to wear what you’d like. Then again it’s not exactly like she was free. It was always an illusion, instead of what looks like a perfect life is instead an insane pressure to keep up appearances and a lack of ability to simply exist as yourself.
A gust blew into his bedroom. He had forgotten to close the sliding glass door. Shit.
Looking for love when the climate is cold
The cassette squeeked every other second, a notable complaint Robert couldn’t bring himself to take care of.
Eventually, it came to an end. The final song in the cassette.
With the weather growing colder it was hard to tell if the darkness was a sign to sleep or simply the days getting shorter. The crunch of autumn leaves and stiff joints and quiet cubicle rooms. A certain cold that slowly creeps in and settles stubbornly in your bones during this time of year.
Robert turned off the light, tucking himself into bed and attempting to ignore it all.
Tomorrow he wouldn’t be facing this reality. He would be with his dysfunctional team at his temp job before he can move on and pretend like this never happened. Pretend like he never liked anyone and he never got to know anyone. Just for a few more months, hopefully. That didn’t matter right now though. This team was his. Despite what came out of his past lovers, he hopes there is something new. Something that he is missing to fill this void inside him.