Over the past few weeks we’ve been seeing less and less of Johannes. He says he’s been crashing with some Polish squatters in North London, but has informed us of little else. He sort of drifts in and out of Mavi’s apartment, normally showing up around dinner time (convenient), eating our food and then disappearing again for days at a time. I have no idea how he makes money, or even is he does at all. Recently, investigation into whether Johannes is actually Austrian / an objectophile entered a bit of a lull. We just weren’t getting anywhere, and eventually we stopped caring. The kid is like a brick wall. Also, the person who was most interested in uncovering the truth about our mysterious house guest was Bunny, and he’s been trapped in Berlin for two weeks due to the lolcano. My partner is crime is MIA. Fuck you, Mother Nature.

The last time we saw Johannes was on Wednesday. He barged into Mavi’s living room around midnight, moving rapidly in his character, teenage lope, carrying a garbage bag full of clothes. Tattered tartan trousers, a Destroy T-shirt, corpselike face slashed with lines of red paint—he looked straight out of Jubilee. Every time I see him I can’t help but fall in love with him; he’s absurdly beautiful. Dead-eyed, Johannes explained that he had fallen out with the people he was squatting with, and that he needed a place to stay temporarily. The ever-accommodating Mavi obviously offered him her sofa. When I asked him what he and his squatmates had gotten into an argument about, Johannes toed the floor and mumbled, “They are not nice people.”

The following morning I got a call from a hysterical Mavi. She said that Johannes was gone, and that a bunch of her designer clothes had gone missing from the apartment, along with some DVDs and a digital camera of mine (an old, shitty one, but still). She said he left without saying goodbye. Fucking prick. Considering that Johannes has no phone, Facebook or email that we know of, we have no way of getting in touch with him. At this point we’re all pretty certain he won’t be coming back.

Later that afternoon I called the HMV in Surrey where Johannes previously worked, asking for him. (If you remember, we know he worked there because we found his pay slip). The girl on the other end of the phone informed me that a boy named Johannes had work there recently, but about a month ago he just stopped showing up. When I asked if the Johannes she was referring to was Austrian, she answered, “No, but I remember him motioning that he lived there for a while.” When I asked if he had neon blue hair she said yes.

In my fantasy, Johannes is consumed by wanderlust. He’s constantly moving, making new friends, taking what he can from them before moving on to somewhere new and doing it all over again. He rinses people. With each new home he takes on a different persona. People like him because he’s this cool, elusive character. You can’t really figure him out, but he gets by on his strangely beautiful appearance and his backward charm. Obviously I can’t be 100% sure that any of this is true, but it seems pretty likely, don’t you think? Who knows, perhaps I’m being a tad bit romantic. I feel used.



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