Short Stories (bxb)

Happy Place Pt. 5: Heaven Is a Happy Place

They kept their word. When Danny woke up the next morning, he untangled himself from Santiago and moved onto the bean bag chair. Once Santiago stirred, nothing but a prolonged glance served to suggest that they'd ever been anything more than friends.

Or that they'd ever been anything less. They went back to normal, as if nothing had happened between them to begin with; they met in the mornings and between classes and at lunch and after school. Santiago's friends rolled their eyes when he ditched them again, but it had only been a matter of time; they knew who his first choice was, always.

It wasn't easy.

After their time in the cabin, a slow-healing hole opened up in Danny's chest, and every time he saw Santiago, the cut tore open again.

    The struggle wasn't one-sided. Every time Santiago looked at Danny — every time Santiago even thought about him — he felt the shadow of soft lips ghost over his own, and it was all he could do to remember their agreement.

It was a burning feeling, but it was better than being alone. Despite the heartache, Danny still only felt like himself around Santiago, and Santiago still only felt good when he was with Danny.

      "Screw you," Santiago laughed one day at lunch, chucking one of his fries at Danny in retaliation to the blueberry that had just bounced off of his face, leaving a reddish-purple smear on his cheek.

      "Time and place?" Danny teased before he could stop himself. His eyes rounded when he realized what he'd said. Santiago froze, halfway to a bite of his sandwich. 

     "That . . . that was a joke," Danny said. It was the kind of thing they used to say to each other all the time without blinking an eye. It wasn't so easy to brush off now.

     "Yeah," Santiago said, turning to hide his smirk. Then, under his breath, he muttered, "You wish."

     Danny chuckled, the tension leaving his shoulders with a sigh. In a way, it was actually kind of funnier now that they both knew it was true. If this was something they could joke about . . . they would be alright.

     And they were. For months, they were perfect. Everything was, until the end of Santiago's junior year. 

+++

Santiago got the call near midnight.

     He was nearly asleep; he'd been dozing off to his favorite playlist, warm beneath the plush blankets of his bed. He nearly ignored the call — the buzzing of his phone urged a groan from his lips, and he turned toward his nightstand with an accusatory glare. There, the screen of his phone was bright with a number he didn't recognize, and he was tempted to disregard it.

    But he decided to pick up. He pressed the phone to his ear and jumped at the frantic voice of a girl.

     "Santiago, what happened to Danny?"

      He only vaguely recognized the voice, but the girl obviously knew him. The panicked edge to her words and the mention of Danny had him jerking upright.

     "What do you mean? Who is this?"

     "Aika," the girl said. "Danny's friend. Why is he in the hospital?"

      Santiago flinched so hard, he hit the back of his head against the headboard. "In the hospital? He's — how do you know?"

      "You haven't heard?" Aika sounded like she was struggling to get her words out. "I don't know who saw him first. Probably a volunteer from our grade, or — I don't know. But everyone who knows you knows about him, and I guess it spread, and everyone's talking about it. I'm at work, I shouldn't even be on this call right now — please go see him, Santiago. I don't know how long he's been there, or what's wrong, just that he's unconscious — please just . . ."