WARNING: This fictional work involves doll fantasy reenactments. It uses crude language and contains references to real-world events, including antisemitism and the ongoing war in the Middle East. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
In this post:
Story recap refreshers:
“Oh my gosh, Manu-chan, I’m so happy to see you,” Chrissy says, wiping his tears with the back of his hand.
They’re standing in the parking lot just a few steps from Takeshi’s ice cream shop, Lick It.
“I texted you and Takeshi several times earlier, but didn’t get a response. I was worried.” Chrissy wants to run over to Manuel, but his legs just won’t budge.
“What’s that you’re holding?” Manuel asks as they walk over to Chrissy, but they just stand there tentatively at an arm’s length.
“Some asshole slapped this on Wade’s poster,” Chrissy says, handing it over, a bit perturbed that Manuel won’t come closer. He could surely use one of Manuel’s hugs right now. “I… lost it on him at the store and uh… Wade just dragged me out of the fight.”
Manuel looks at the poster, then back at Chrissy. “Is that why you’re crying?”
“Well, no. Wade and I…”
“I mean, it’s true, isn’t it? Zionism is genocide.”
Chrissy blinks. It’s like the ground falls out beneath him. “Manu… Do you even know what Zionism is?”
“A dangerous, murderous, colonialist ideology wrapped in white supremacy, that’s what it is.”
Chrissy stares at Manuel, who stares back at him. For a moment, neither one wants to back down. A decade of friendship with Manuel flashes before Chrissy’s eyes.
“Manu… regardless of what you think, this is Wade we’re talking about, for fuck’s sake. That guy rescues farm animals. You took your high school students’ vegan club to his sanctuary ranch.”
But Manu only scoffs at Chrissy.
“You know, thanks to you, his ranch’s website has a land acknowledgment for Native Americans. Yet you deny the same truth when it comes to the Jewish people in Israel? Gimme a fuckin’ break.” Chrissy yanks the poster from Manuel’s hand, but Manuel’s grip is so tight it nearly tears in half.
Manuel smirks and rolls their eyes. “Should’ve known you’re just another right-wing bigot who hides behind his ‘queer identity.’ Which actually makes this next part easier.”
“What the… Just because of this, you call me right-wing? I rallied for abortion rights with you! I rallied for gun control! How fuckin’ dare you?”
“I dare, because it’s true. And you know what else is true?” Manuel pulls up their phone. “You and Takeshi fucking behind my back.”
Manuel’s words horrify him, but what he sees is even worse. It’s Takeshi, tugging at the front of Chrissy’s towel in the gym locker room.
“Where… How did you…”
“Someone sent this to my work email. And to think of the many, many, many times I comforted you, took your side. God. You know, just because you and Matt are in an open relationship, doesn’t mean you can act like a whore for everything with a dick.” Manuel says.
Chrissy grits his teeth. Manuel said almost the same thing Matt had said. But this time it isn’t true. “There’s nothing between Takeshi and me! Nothing!”
“You trying to tell me this didn’t happen?” Manuel swipes their phone. “Or this?” Now Takeshi’s hand is on Chrissy’s bare ass.
Chrissy wants to defend himself and tell the truth, but wouldn’t it bring resentment if he told Manuel it was Takeshi who started? Or worse: would it break up Takeshi and Manuel? Would he want that? Really want that? And maybe secretly (or not so secretly), Chrissy does like getting that kind of attention from Takeshi. Or from any men.
“Manu, I swear to you.”
“Oh, please. I know how he looks at you.”
“Then maybe you should talk to him because that’s not my problem!”
“Of course. I mean, I shouldn’t expect less from a Zio puta like you. You steal and you lie and you blame others. Typical.”
“Manu, I’m telling the truth.” Chrissy instinctively reaches out to touch Manuel.
Manuel slaps Chrissy’s hand away. “You stay. The fuck. Away from us! Never call, never text, never email, never show your face at Lick It! Do you fuckin’ hear me, you fuckin’ cunt?”
Chrissy hangs his head down. He squints his eyes so hard he swears he can see steam coming out of the dark pavement in the parking lot. But Manuel isn’t done yet.
“And if you value your friendship with Gar, you’ll stay away from the gym! Because if I see you there again, I swear I’ll blow this up and tell everyone Gar lets people take spy pics in his locker room! I’m sure he’d have fun getting sued! And shut down! And I’d love to see Matt having to choose between Gar and you. And if he’s smart, he’d choose Gar over you! Honestly, I would.”
It’s a point of no return for both of them. Chrissy can practically hear the metallic snip of Atropos’ scissors slash the strand of their relationship, as though the shearer of threads herself has had enough. And that death, that unsalvageable, irreversible weight of finality, makes him snap.
He closes his eyes and starts to laugh. First just guttural, then louder. He looks at his best friend, no, former best friend, right in the eyes. There’s a glint of terror on Manuel’s face and Chrissy relishes it.
“You know what, Manuel?” Chrissy says, “I’m glad this happened. And since you’re being honest with me, let me return the favor: you’re a virtue-signaling, performative narcissist with no capacity or curiosity for nuance. You demand people see you as nonbinary, yet you hold a binary perspective of the world. And one day, your precious purity test will fail even you, and you won’t know what to do. And I don’t care if you hate me, but don’t you dare drag Matt or Gar into this.”
For a while, silence engulfs them as they stare at each other. Even the air in the parking lot stays still. Chrissy tries to decipher Manuel’s face, wanting to see a lip quiver, an eye twitch, anything. He grits his teeth, readying himself for Manuel’s retort.
But Manuel only scoffs. “I’ve nothing more to say to you. You’re not worth my breath.” And they turn their back and walk out of the parking lot.
A part of Chrissy feels relieved the fight is over, even if Manuel got the last word. The earlier scuffle with the stranger and the breakup with Wade almost drained him. He doesn’t even know how he’s still standing.
Chrissy wants to scream, but all he can muster is a gurgle. His throat is raw and dry, but his face is drenched in tears. He rips the poster into pieces and tosses them into the dumpster.
His legs give out and Chrissy slumps down on the filthy pavement amidst the trash with his back against the even filthier dumpster. Right now, he just wants to come home to Matt. His hands tremble as he pulls out his phone from his purse. He swipes to open Matt’s number but stops himself from tapping the call button. Matt’s probably with a client. So Chrissy just shoots him a quick text, “Going home now,” and calls a ride share to take him back to their apartment.
Hey, you gorgeous thing!
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Dollsexposed showcases homoerotica and kink through twelve-inch doll photography. Their adventures in the doll world began in 2011 before establishing a home on dollsexposed.com eleven years later.
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