I can’t die yet.
Not now.
I still have one more thing to do.
I push myself up against the door of the backstage loading dock. My vision’s going blurry--the sudden movement makes the room tilt dangerously.
“C’mon, you bastard,” I breathe, hazy purple eyes sinking to my watch. You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago, jackass.
Blood pushes through my brain, pulsing in slow, deliberate drumbeats. Godamnit, you said you’d be here. You of all people follow through when you say you’ll be somewhere. You should’ve showed up by now.
I look down at my watch--a birthday present from you two years ago. I just say it’s from my brother most of the time, because how weird is it for a teenage guy to get another teenage guy a birthday present? You’ll get along with my brother at the funeral, right? For me? I know you don’t like him, but all he did was what he had to. He needed to get out somehow and that was the only way to do it. He doesn’t deserve to be hated for that of all things. Please be nice?
The booming of someone bounding onstage and across the expanse of hollow hardwood makes me wince. Is that you? Did you finally show up? I hope so. If it’s not you, and someone else, I’m really screwed here. I don’t trust anyone else with this.
“Kevin? Kevin, babe, you here?”
I want to yell at you for making me wait, but I just close my eyes and lean back against the cold metal door. “Right here,” I call, unsure my voice is loud enough to hear from the edge of the curtain.
“Kev?” You sound scared. My fading hearing traces your frantic footsteps over the stack of prop suitcases and steamer trunks and around a large wooden crescent moon, a Greek column, and a table. “Oh my god, Kevin, what--”
I feel you sink to your knees beside me as I let the empty bottle of extra-strength Advil roll out of my grip. It rolls across the concrete floor and hits my water bottle with a dull clack.
“Oh my god, Kev--” You choke on the last bit of my name. You slip your arm around my shoulders and tug me into your lap, cradling my head in the crook of your neck. “Explain this to me. Please-- Please, Kev...oh my god.” You take a shaky breath and press your lips to mine, trembling like you’re fighting back tears. Dear god, don’t do this--you’re fine, don’t cry. “No, on second thought, don’t. You can explain in the hospital. Or on the way home. I don’t care. But after you’re okay. You’re going to be okay.”
I shake my head, the simple movement exhausting. “No, I’m not,” I whisper, feeling myself grow harder to hear. “I couldn’t live here anymore. Lee--”
“Lee? Is that what this is about? Oh my god, Kevin, we could’ve got past that if you’d just talked to me! I asked you yesterday--” You cut yourself off my pressing your lips to my cold forehead desperately and choking back a sob.
“Listen to me, Ian.” God, you really can’t listen when it counts to save your life. “He tried to kill me on Saturday. I’ve been staying with Mariah and her mom all week. He said he’d kill you too. Or get Bryan to do it.”
“He--”
“Stole my phone,” I sigh. Shit. I’m having trouble breathing. Not this soon, damnit! Two more minutes, please? “Looked through my texts.”
I open my eyes a crack. The blurry version of you is trying not to cry, and failing epically. Vaguely, I can feel my face getting wet from tears dripping off the end of your nose--my favorite nose in the world, by the way. “Ian, knock it off. You’re getting me all wet and crap.”
“This is my fault, damnit!”
“No it’s not, moron. I’m the one who swallowed a whole bottle of Advil.” I try to take a deep breath and only accomplish my objective halfway. “Ian, I want you to do something for me, yeah?” My breath hitches in my chest, like a hoodie that didn’t make it off the coat hook all the way. I have to do this fast--I don’t have a lot of time left. “You know the flash drive on my keys? Play-- Play the file called ‘last wish’ on it at the funeral. Make sure--”
“No, godamnit! There’s not going to be a funeral! You’re not going to--”
“Ian.” My chest’s constricting. The drumbeat in my ears is getting slower, weaker. Almost time.
“Y-yeah?”
“Promise.”
You choke. “O-okay.”
“Promise.” Damnit, my voice is starting to slur.
I see your hand’s blurry general shape reaching for your back pocket--I make a blind grab for it. Apparently I got close, because your fingers close around mine and squeeze gently. God, you’re so warm. Can I just stay here and have this be heaven, please? Or am I going to hell for this, for you?
You kiss me again on the lips, longer than before. “Kevin, please don’t leave me. Let me help--we’ll call an ambulance, you can come live with me after you get out of the hospital. Lee lied to you--Bryan really doesn’t give a fuck if I’m gay. He won’t care if you came and lived with us. Please, Kevin...” You sigh, a few tears still dripping off your nose. “...I promise.”
“Remember last October, when we got locked up on the roof all night?” I’m feeling really sleepy. But that’s okay. “And you asked me what my last wish would be, and I said that it would be to kiss Robert Downey, Jr., because he’s sexy and no one really knows if he’s straight?” I smile faintly and nuzzle your shoulder. Because, godamnit, I’m about to die--I can nuzzle all I want to. “I lied to you, Ian. This is my last wish. Right here.”
“Kev--”
“I love you, Ian.”
“Love you too--”
And suddenly, I don’t feel anything at all.
Not now.
I still have one more thing to do.
I push myself up against the door of the backstage loading dock. My vision’s going blurry--the sudden movement makes the room tilt dangerously.
“C’mon, you bastard,” I breathe, hazy purple eyes sinking to my watch. You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago, jackass.
Blood pushes through my brain, pulsing in slow, deliberate drumbeats. Godamnit, you said you’d be here. You of all people follow through when you say you’ll be somewhere. You should’ve showed up by now.
I look down at my watch--a birthday present from you two years ago. I just say it’s from my brother most of the time, because how weird is it for a teenage guy to get another teenage guy a birthday present? You’ll get along with my brother at the funeral, right? For me? I know you don’t like him, but all he did was what he had to. He needed to get out somehow and that was the only way to do it. He doesn’t deserve to be hated for that of all things. Please be nice?
The booming of someone bounding onstage and across the expanse of hollow hardwood makes me wince. Is that you? Did you finally show up? I hope so. If it’s not you, and someone else, I’m really screwed here. I don’t trust anyone else with this.
“Kevin? Kevin, babe, you here?”
I want to yell at you for making me wait, but I just close my eyes and lean back against the cold metal door. “Right here,” I call, unsure my voice is loud enough to hear from the edge of the curtain.
“Kev?” You sound scared. My fading hearing traces your frantic footsteps over the stack of prop suitcases and steamer trunks and around a large wooden crescent moon, a Greek column, and a table. “Oh my god, Kevin, what--”
I feel you sink to your knees beside me as I let the empty bottle of extra-strength Advil roll out of my grip. It rolls across the concrete floor and hits my water bottle with a dull clack.
“Oh my god, Kev--” You choke on the last bit of my name. You slip your arm around my shoulders and tug me into your lap, cradling my head in the crook of your neck. “Explain this to me. Please-- Please, Kev...oh my god.” You take a shaky breath and press your lips to mine, trembling like you’re fighting back tears. Dear god, don’t do this--you’re fine, don’t cry. “No, on second thought, don’t. You can explain in the hospital. Or on the way home. I don’t care. But after you’re okay. You’re going to be okay.”
I shake my head, the simple movement exhausting. “No, I’m not,” I whisper, feeling myself grow harder to hear. “I couldn’t live here anymore. Lee--”
“Lee? Is that what this is about? Oh my god, Kevin, we could’ve got past that if you’d just talked to me! I asked you yesterday--” You cut yourself off my pressing your lips to my cold forehead desperately and choking back a sob.
“Listen to me, Ian.” God, you really can’t listen when it counts to save your life. “He tried to kill me on Saturday. I’ve been staying with Mariah and her mom all week. He said he’d kill you too. Or get Bryan to do it.”
“He--”
“Stole my phone,” I sigh. Shit. I’m having trouble breathing. Not this soon, damnit! Two more minutes, please? “Looked through my texts.”
I open my eyes a crack. The blurry version of you is trying not to cry, and failing epically. Vaguely, I can feel my face getting wet from tears dripping off the end of your nose--my favorite nose in the world, by the way. “Ian, knock it off. You’re getting me all wet and crap.”
“This is my fault, damnit!”
“No it’s not, moron. I’m the one who swallowed a whole bottle of Advil.” I try to take a deep breath and only accomplish my objective halfway. “Ian, I want you to do something for me, yeah?” My breath hitches in my chest, like a hoodie that didn’t make it off the coat hook all the way. I have to do this fast--I don’t have a lot of time left. “You know the flash drive on my keys? Play-- Play the file called ‘last wish’ on it at the funeral. Make sure--”
“No, godamnit! There’s not going to be a funeral! You’re not going to--”
“Ian.” My chest’s constricting. The drumbeat in my ears is getting slower, weaker. Almost time.
“Y-yeah?”
“Promise.”
You choke. “O-okay.”
“Promise.” Damnit, my voice is starting to slur.
I see your hand’s blurry general shape reaching for your back pocket--I make a blind grab for it. Apparently I got close, because your fingers close around mine and squeeze gently. God, you’re so warm. Can I just stay here and have this be heaven, please? Or am I going to hell for this, for you?
You kiss me again on the lips, longer than before. “Kevin, please don’t leave me. Let me help--we’ll call an ambulance, you can come live with me after you get out of the hospital. Lee lied to you--Bryan really doesn’t give a fuck if I’m gay. He won’t care if you came and lived with us. Please, Kevin...” You sigh, a few tears still dripping off your nose. “...I promise.”
“Remember last October, when we got locked up on the roof all night?” I’m feeling really sleepy. But that’s okay. “And you asked me what my last wish would be, and I said that it would be to kiss Robert Downey, Jr., because he’s sexy and no one really knows if he’s straight?” I smile faintly and nuzzle your shoulder. Because, godamnit, I’m about to die--I can nuzzle all I want to. “I lied to you, Ian. This is my last wish. Right here.”
“Kev--”
“I love you, Ian.”
“Love you too--”
And suddenly, I don’t feel anything at all.
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