➣➣➣
"We're gonna be okay," he whispers softly into my ear, holding me tight as if he'd never let go, not for a second, not for anyone, not for anything.
I breathe in the scent of him as if it were the only available oxygen to fill my dry, wrinkled lungs. I sink into the warmth of his chest, pressing my face up against the fabric of his shirt, feeling each individual fiber on my face. My breath faintly escapes through my teeth as the joints and knots in my body begin to loosen with ease.
"Everything is going to be okay," he repeats, stroking my head with the gentlest touch, and for the first time in my entire life...
...I believe it.
➣➣➣
In the center of my palm sits the hearing aid that was purchased over-the-counter by my foster parents last week. It's a small gadget, light as a feather, yet somehow heavy to hold. Heavy in cost, too. Twenty-five thousand, right off the bat. Another win for American healthcare, I guess. Bonnie's wallet has gotta be ran through by now, once again, thanks to me and my decrepitude.
It's been about a week since the ear-bleeding thing. I haven't been to school in a while. It's not like I need to catch up on anything anyway. I won't be needing good grades, what with the future I've chosen for myself: no future.
I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My splotchy silver hair is a frizzled mess, dampened and dark from the shower. The bags under my eyes are glaringly apparent. My crooked lips tilt with perturbation, my shirt is wrinkled and loose. My entire appearance could be defined by that one word, 'loose'.
I stare feverishly into the eyes owned by the body I had spent the last several years of my life building and maintaining only for the sake and pleasure of people other than myself. I see a product, due for it's expiration date; a toy, worn out and used, ready to be tossed. An impression of the people I've encountered and given myself away to. I did this to myself. I'm both Frankenstein and Frankenstein's monster.
I'm only eighteen and somehow I already feel like a withering old man; my muscles quake and my limbs shiver from time to time. How broken do you have to be to look at yourself in the mirror and only see a lifeless amalgamation of joints, limbs, flesh, and fur looking back at you and not just... a person?
As I raise the hearing aid up to my right ear, I feel the floor dragging me down like invisible strings manipulating gravity, pulling me into the Earth's magnetic core. I fit the mould into my ear canal and twist the cable around my ear lobe until it's secure. My right ear is engulfed in high frequencies.
I take a step back. I take in the sight.
For a moment, I saw the world around me lose a little bit of its color. It was like a dark vignette circled my peripheral vision, the overhead fluorescent dimming to an ominous brilliance.
I looked worse than I did before. It stuck out like a sore thumb. The collar was already enough—one look and it blatantly told people I was a foster kid. And now with this, I'm the foster kid going deaf.
I look so ugly. And pathetic. I wish I could somehow edit myself like an avatar in a video game. But, no. Who I am is what I'm stuck with.
Why did anyone ever want me in the first place?
➣➣➣
The bike ride to school with Eden was quiet. She asked if I was okay, I told her I was fine, she said she was here for me if I needed her and if I wanted space, she'd give it to me, and that was it. And I was fine with it. It's not like I expected her to do anything that would instantly rid me of my problems. Just a simple check in and some respectful silence would do. The situation was already bad enough, there wasn't any need for complicated matters.
Eden hugged me strongly before parting ways with me to go to her first period class. I was left to fend for myself. In the hallway, people stared. They stared harder than ever before.
In my life, people have stared at me for different reasons. First, I was the sad lonely foster kid, then I was the football game prostitute, and now I'm the guy with the hearing disability. All my life, eyes have been directed onto me for all the wrong reasons. I've met stares coded with pity, worry, disgust, and even hatred.
"Hey," I hear a familiar voice coming from directly in front of me.
I look up, meeting the only eyes that have ever stared at me with warmth and tenderness.
"Hey," I respond in a weak grumble.
"How are you?"
I shrug. "You?"
"Still grounded. I have until the end of the week, though."
"You're almost free."
"Yeah."
Harvey's eyes widen, noticing the notably obvious piece of technology attached to the side of my face. He reaches forward slowly, careful not to frighten me in the process, and pushes back a few strands of hair that I purposefully moved in front to cover the hearing aid.
"Woah," he sighs, winded at the sight of it.
"Yeah." My eyes fall to the side.
"When did you get it?"
"Yesterday."
He gently traces his finger against the tube, his fingertips briskly grazing the side of my face. His touch is soft and warm. I long to rest my head in his hand, but I hold back.
"I like it," Harvey smiles, locking eyes with me. His smile could quite possibly cure me of my pain. "Does it work?"
It takes me a second to answer. I'm too distracted by the calming nature of his beauty. "...Not too well."
"But it does work?"
"Yeah. I can hear a little better now, but it won't prevent my hearing from getting worse."
"Hey, it still works," he shrugs, that same signature smile of his never leaving his face. It makes me want to smile, too, despite how gloomy I feel inside. "Little victories, right?"
"Everything sounds like a phone call."
"Why do you only have one? Don't you need two for both ears?"
"They couldn't afford two." My head sinks and I stare at my feet. The tips of shoes are aligned directly opposite to Harvey's, whose are much bigger in size. He's a lot bigger than me in many aspects, especially his heart. I don't know how he does it.
"I don't know if I like it," I tell him the truth. He's one of the few people in my life who actually listen.
"The way it sounds?"
"And the way it feels." I reach for my hair and push the strands back over the hearing aid once more, hiding it to the best of my abilities, though it doesn't really make a difference. "It's so obvious. People are gonna ask questions."
Harvey bites his bottom lip and tugs on the straps of his backpack, swaying side to side as he thinks. Every little thing that he does distracts me. "I'll tell the others not to make a big deal out of it."
I shake my head dejectedly. "They'll still notice."
Harvey goes quiet for a moment. He stares at me with that similar look of pity, but it doesn't feel quite as heavy from him as it does from others.
"Ari..." Harvey slowly approaches me with open arms, closing the tiny space left between us.
He hugs me, tightly. Tighter than anyone ever has before. I can tell he didn't intend to come on so strong with the way his grip loosened a few seconds after making contact. He's constantly second guessing himself with me. It's cute. He cups his right paw around the back of my head, guiding my face into the space between his chin and his shoulder, fitting me in just right.
Though the hallway is crowded with students rushing to get to class, all I can focus on his him. And the sound of my breathing. And my heart pumping. I give myself a second to just relax my body and sink into the embrace. I feel warmer instantly. With my chest pressed against his, our heartbeats nearly sync up.
Then the bell rings.
I don't want him to leave me.
The kids in the hallway run like their lives depend on it. Harvey and I stay still. A few seconds pass and we slowly part heads, though our arms are still tightly coiled around each other's torsos.
I lean my head back and peer up at him. He leans his head back and peers down at me. We gaze into each other's eyes, a hint of sadness being shared between looks. We're still so close. It feels like we're about to kiss.
But, of course, I wouldn't want to kiss him in public if Harvey is uncomfortable.
Unexpectedly, Harvey leans in and kisses me.
It's a quick peck, lasting no longer than a second at most. But it meant something to me. Something beautiful. It meant more than the longer kisses we've shared, more than the physically active kisses, more than the heated, passionate kisses. He kissed me in public for the first time, unafraid, undoubtedly. Sure, he was still a little awkward with it, but it meant the world that he tried.
After he pulls back, we re-establish eye contact. He seems nervous. I smile fondly, immediately whisking his nerves away. His wondrous, adventurous eyes glow with doting affection. With just a single look, it feels like he's telepathically asking if I'm okay. Assuredly, I gently nod my head in response.
"I'm... already late for Fin-Lit," he says, an audible hint of disappointment in his voice, "but I'll see you at lunch, okay?"
I can't wait that long to see you again, Harvey.
"...Okay," I nod, pushing away my selfish wants.
Harvey releases me from his arms, only to hold me kindly by the shoulders, tenderly stroking his thumbs against them.
"Okay," he says with a reassuring smile. He doesn't leave until he sees that I'm okay.
His touch lingers long after he parts ways with me. I still feel his warmth twirling around me; his scent stays in my mind for a moment or two, until his entire presence—and every sensation that comes with it—fades from my grasp.
I look back over my shoulder and see him at the end of the hall. He does the same, with me on the opposite end. He flashes that same toothy grin before departing from my vision, turning the corner.
Only then do I realize all the other people in the hallway.
➣➣➣
As the day progresses, I settle more and more with the fact that I don't want to be stared at by anyone other than him. All day, I've caught looks and glances and head turns, all directed at me, and more importantly, the gizmo in my ear. I've learned to deal with these looks over the years, but now I'm getting stared at for an entirely different reason. A reason that could quite possibly be the death of me.
I've dedicated my life to music. It was enough wrestling with the inevitable fear of losing it on my own, now I have to suffer the curious eyes and mouthes of the entire school—which, more or less, feels like the entire world. Some classmates asked questions about it. Even some teachers, too. This one asshole tried poking at it. I nearly grabbed his hand and ripped it clean off.
Everyone knows. They may not know exactly what my condition is, but they're aware. And that awareness will spread, just like the rumors, just like the stories, just like everything that was passed around about me before I even fucking came to the school. I'll see their eyes and I'll see that they know. Knowing eyes, everywhere. For the remainder of senior year. I can't do this.
I wanted to get away from this as far as possible. I just wanted to forget and enjoy what little time I had left, not thinking about the impending doom. Now, everywhere I go, I'll be reminded.
And that reminder will manifest in every person I meet; it will reflect in the eyes of every person I talk to, every person I encounter, every person I brush past, stumble into, cross paths with, glance at, exist near to.
That reminder will forever be attached to me, like a label. Or a name tag.
Or a collar.
Or a scar.
Nobody paid attention to me at lunch, which I didn't mind, but I knew for a fact it was done on purpose. Harvey must've already instructed them to give me space. It's been a few days since I've been around them, so I figured they'd at least ask to see if I was okay, but they didn't. They all gave me space. Harvey really must've urged them about it.
Though I appreciated the distance, a part of me felt isolated. Isolated from the friend group, or the 'family', as they like to call it. Rian, Torrence, Levi, Harley, and now, apparently, Fiona. She joined us at the lunch table today to show us mock concepts for album artwork. Everyone just got along; they all gushed and discussed Fiona's artistic vision, they all laughed and passed around jokes and quips and little references to past moments in their friendships that I hadn't been around for to understand. I didn't really feel like a part of them, Eden and Harvey too. And the worst part is that I wanted to.
The space felt good, but a part of me longed not to have it. A part of me wanted them to ask me how I was and if I was doing okay. A part of me wanted to be involved in the conversation, to understand the jokes and add onto them, to have the attention I've never before received from a big group of friends.
A part of me wanted to be a part of the family. But I didn't know how to.
Not their fault, of course. Just me and how I grew up, I guess. I've grown accustomed to things not staying. Nothing was ever permanent. My parents loved me and I was taken from them. Every friend I tried to make while skipping towns in my youth I never once saw again. When I graduate high school and end up living on my own, who here will actually stay in my life?
I look at Harvey, tearing away at a submarine sandwich.
Will he?
I don't want to get my hopes up. I don't want to try for something that I know I'll lose by the end of the year. By the end of the semester, if we're being realistic.
I look at the table, everyone laughing and talking and laughing and talking. Harley picking on Levi, who secretly enjoys it. Torrence arguing with Rian over teachers they like and dislike. Eden and Fiona gushing over outfits they found online. Harvey smiling and giggling at the chaotic nature of his friends. His friends.
And me, at the end of the table.
I've grown so accustomed to being around them for the past month or so. I like them. I like them all so much. But there will come a day when I won't see them anymore. Even though I've only just met them, I long to keep them in my life.
But I know it won't happen. I can't even work up the nerve to talk to them. I can't even tell them the truth.
"You okay?" Harvey leans in and whispers, catching me off guard. I flinch and focus my attention on him, startled by how close he was to me.
"Yeah," I lie, nodding my head and sighing deeply.
"Do you have anything to eat?" Harvey worries, noticing the empty space in front of me on the lunch table.
"I'm not hungry." This time, I tell him the truth.
"You gotta eat something," Harvey says, offering me a piece of his sandwich. I refuse. He realizes something is wrong. "...Do you wanna go into the hallway and talk for a minute?"
I look up into his troubled eyes.
I can't let him be a part of my life. He's too kind. Too gentle. Too caring. I'll mess him up.
I'm like a black hole; I suck things up, I chew on them until they're bitten dry, and then I spit them out. I tried so hard to steer clear of Harvard Northwest, but I ended up falling for him. I convinced myself it could work. I fooled myself into thinking it could work. But nothing ever does with Arizona Sundance. And now, he's stuck in my gravity well, inching closer and closer to the pit of my black hole. I can't do that to him.
Harvard Northwest and Arizona Sundance are two ends of the same magnet, impossible to connect. We'd only repel, no matter how hard we tried to fight the physics.
I think back to the kiss this morning. How good it felt. How badly I want to keep him in my life. How badly I want him to stay, as well as everything that comes with him. The kisses, the touching, the eye contact, the warmth and the comfort. All the good, and no bad. I think about how much I want it.
And I think about how unfair it is to him for me to have it.
I have to set him free.
How do I set him free?
"I think I have to go to the bathroom," I half-heartedly answer him after a long pause.
He rests an affectionate paw on my leg, making my entire body glow.
"...Are you sure? You want me to walk you?"
He's so close that I can feel the heat of his breath against my neck. It feels like a wave of coziness has washed over me, cleansing me of my worries and my fears.
Fuck, Harvey... You're making this so hard...
"I'll be okay," I assure him, giving his hand a gentle touch as a guarantee, despite me lying through my teeth.
I sit up from the table and quickly rush out of the cafeteria, trying to be as discreet as possible, though I can still feel the weight of a thousand eyes, all watching. All knowing.
I was still getting used to the layout of the school, so it took me a while to eventually find a hallway on the first floor that was completely abandoned and devoid of life. It legitimately felt like a closed-off area of the school with how empty and quiet it was, though I could still hear the blowing of whistles coming from the gymnasium on the other side of the wall.
I run all the way down to the end of the hallway and sit down by the doors that led to the stairwell.
With my back resting against the wall, I cradle my arms around my legs and squeeze my eyes shut. It's not like I'm having a panic attack or I'm about to cry, I just need a moment to myself to just sit still and feel... intact.
I reach into my pocket for my phone, only to realize I'd left it and my headphones at the lunch table.
"Fuck," I grumble, deprived of my cherished music to tune out my intrusive thinking.
Okay, okay, focus, Ari. Focus on your breathing. Not having a panic attack, my ass.
In an effort to block out the silence, I slowly begin to inhale and exhale, just to hear the sound of my own breath. Just to hear any sound at all.
The breathing comes at an unhurried pace. The sound of the whistles through the wall get louder. So does the ambience of the hallway, the sound of air bouncing off the walls repeatedly.
Focus, Arizona. Focus.
"Arizona?" I hear a voice echo down the long, unwinding corridor.
I open my eyes and cock my head in the direction of the voice immediately. I see a figure standing at the far end of the hall. They clearly see me and know who I am, but I'm completely lost on them.
I rise to my feet, squinting my eyes as I slowly approach the figure. The figure slowly approaches me. I walk with caution in my steps, careful to keep my distance.
Was it Harvey? No, definitely not. Someone familiar, though. I recognize that voice. It reminds me of someone I met once. Someone I knew for a very short period of time.
The figure becomes clear and slowly morphs into the image of a hyena.
Oh, fuck.
I stop in my tracks, watching Corey Baxter emerge from the shadows of the dimly lit corridor, coming my way.
If I wasn't panicking before, now was certainly the time. In a flash, I instantaneously spun around on my heels and began to make a beeline for the stairwell.
"Hey, wait!" Corey calls out. Somehow, his voice gets me to stay.
I find my feet pinned to the floor, like I'm stuck in a life-sized glue trap. I want to run, so badly, but for some reason, I can't. I turn back around and I face him, head-on, as he walks directly up to me.
"Hey, um," he stammers, realizing just how close he was to me. He takes another step back, extinguishing some of the tension between us. "Hi, uh..."
I realize it's been a while since I've talked to him last—since I've been this close to him. He looks exactly the same, give or take a few changes. His hair's a little shorter. He still wears his letterman jacket like a stereotypical jock. The jokes write themselves, really.
"...It's, uh, good to see you," he mumbles, his best attempt at a greeting. "I didn't know you were coming to CHS."
He's nervous. He's so clearly nervous. He keeps biting his lip and looking down, never once making direct eye contact with me. He scratches his nose repeatedly. His forehead is sweaty. His arms are trembling.
There's something in his hand.
It takes a second for me to fully register what he's holding, but once I realize what it is, his entire presence here in close proximity to me makes a lot more sense. There was no reason for me to believe he's only here to ask me how I am.
"Yeah," I keep the conversation going, purposefully neglecting to notice the wad of cash in his palm. "I decided to finish my last few months of high school in... well, high school."
He's even more nervous now. He nods sporadically like one of those bobble-head figurines. "Yeah. No, yeah, that's great, uh..."
Alright, I already know why he's here, so I might as well just get it over with.
"Are you trying to pay me to shut up again?" I ask him directly, gesturing to the money in his hand, getting right to the point.
Corey's eyes widen. He looks down at the money in his hand. His face turns cherry red for a brief moment, and then pale white.
"No, I'm—" He jumps over his own words, shoving the money into his back pocket. "No—I mean, well... I didn't know you were coming to the school. I thought you would stay homeschooled."
I raise an eyebrow and purse my lips. "...So?"
Corey's eyes dart around faster than a wanted criminal under investigation. He opens his mouth several times with the intention of speaking, only to stop himself out of fear of saying the wrong thing.
What eventually came out was: "It's, just... people talk, you know? About... you. People have been talking for a really long time." Corey then takes a step closer and mutters below his breath, "I've heard around that... you fucked Daniel and... Ezra Myers... and a whole lot of other guys, too. I'm just terrified they'll..."
He pauses. He bites his bottom lip and shakes his head, fighting some internal battle. He did the same thing the last time he confronted me like this. He really hasn't changed.
"...I know you promised not to tell anyone but I'm scared someone will, you know... dig something up about us. Now that you're here all the time."
"Well, you're the one meeting up with me privately to exchange money, that seems pretty suspicious if you ask me..."
Suddenly, Corey grabs me by the arm and escorts me by force into the stairwell. "Yeah, I know, I know, I didn't know how else to get you alone," he tells me, quickly hurrying us out of sight from any onlookers that could've been peering down the hallway.
I stumble backward, watching him shut the door behind us. We both stand there, unmoving and awkward, near the foot of the stairs. There still remains a wide open space dividing the two of us.
"So... why are you trying to pay me again?" I question him as he peers through the window of the door, scanning the room to make sure the coast was clear.
Then, he turns back around and comes close yet again. For some reason, his advances go without a reaction from me. Even when he grabbed me, I just obeyed. Harvey was right, I don't have a reflex. I don't act on my instincts. I put myself in danger every single day and I don't even recognize it.
"...I need you to swear that you won't tell a soul. Not even Eden. Or that Harvey guy you've been... talking to a lot recently."
Shit.
The voice inside of me wanted to just walk away and leave him to figure his shit out on his own, but then I realize the timidness of his stance. The way he fumbles with his fingers, picking at a loose string from his sweater. His pupils are having spasms. Then I realize this wasn't just some jerk trying to cover up an indecent act, he was genuinely terrified.
He's a frightened little kid, toughing it out with his own sexuality—his own identity. I used to look at boys like him and see nothing but an opportunity; a pet project to manipulate into giving me what I wanted. Now I see the harm that I've done. I've taken some lost, questioning teenage boy and screwed up his sensibilities.
I've probably done it to every boy I've encountered.
I've probably done it more than once to Harvey.
"...I don't need your money to do that," I respond, knowing I've already told his secret.
Corey puts his hands together like a sickly dog begging for scraps. I can see the immense fear in his eyes. "Arizona, please. You don't understand. I feel really fucking scared right now."
Fuck. What have I done?
"...I won't tell anyone in this school. I promise."
"You swear on your life?"
I'm lying. I'm lying again.
"...I swear."
Corey then throws his arms around me and hugs me.
"...Thank you," he whimpers through stifled gasps and panicked sniffles.
He hugs me nearly as tight as Harvey did. And with the same heaviness in his heart.
He feels so fragile around me. Like his bones were brittle and weak, even for a football player. One fatal movement and he could snap.
I wrap my arms around him in return, despite having already done what he asked me not to do.
The two of us just stand there in that embrace for about a minute. Awkwardly, I pat his back, trying to pass on that wave of comfort that Harvey was always so good at casting onto me.
"Careful now, someone might be looking," I joke, hoping to lift his spirits.
"What?!" Corey jumps, retracting from me immediately. He circles around himself, searching every which way.
"I'm kidding," I tell him.
Corey pauses and catches his breath. He brushes his paw through his hair and chuckles with relief. I really got him good.
He then reaches back into his pocket and pulls out the money, holding it out to me. "Please, take it. It's the least I can do."
I stare at the cash in his hand, feeling that same immeasurable guilt that I'd received long ago when I'd taken his money the first time.
"I don't want it."
Corey hesitates for a moment before putting the cash back into his pocket. His eyes steamroll the floor, having nothing to say in return. The silence of the stairwell seeps in, making the situation ironically more lonely. I stare at the floor just like him, balancing my weight onto one foot, grabbing at my wrists, not knowing what to do.
At first glance, we were polar opposites, when really, we were just two people on opposite ends of the same spectrum. We're in different places, but we're still in the same hole.
"...You're a pretty cool dude, you know that?"
I look up at him, noticing the faint smile on his face.
"...Only when I want to be," I mutter with a shrug.
Corey laughs and sniffles, tears in his eyes, despite the brightness of his smile.
I've seen Corey around a lot, at school and at games, and though he always appears 'happy' when talking with his friends, playing sports, or just walking in the hall... I don't think I've ever seen him smile quite like this.
It feels more natural. I like it better.
I wish more people could have the chance to see it.
"...How is life treating you?" Corey asks me, furrowing his brows and resting his paws on his hips.
I didn't expect him to ask me a question like that. I know he didn't really care, but I appreciated the attempt to try to make things cool between us, even if it meant kicking off shitty small talk.
"...Oh, you know," I respond weakly. "Same old bullshit."
"Yeah, same here," he says, scratching the back of his head, that awkward silence returning for a second or two. "And that Harvey guy... is he your boyfriend?"
Even I don't know the answer to this question.
Is Harvey my boyfriend? He kisses me, we spend nights together, we've gone on dates... I feel good when I'm with him. What is the criteria for being in a relationship? I was never taught that. I was never shown what a real, healthy relationship looks like, I've had shit role models in the past and shit experiences.
But, if it feels good, then it must be good, right? Even if it feels like I don't deserve it?
"...I think so, yeah," I choose as my answer.
"Does he treat you well?"
"He does, yeah."
Corey's genuine smile shines a little brighter. "That's good. I'm happy for you."
"Thanks, Corey."
"Of course." We both are then hit with another long pause of no words being exchanged between the two of us. Neither him nor I could think of anything to say— "I'm trying to think of something else to say to you, but I actually don't know how to talk to you."
Well... at least he's being honest.
"It's okay. We're not really friends, anyway."
"...It would've been nice if we were." Corey speaks under his breath as if he doesn't intend for me to hear. "Maybe we could've been, you know? If I were a different person, maybe. If I had grown up around better people... better friends... better parents, mostly. Maybe, then, I would've learned how to love myself better and not be so desperate to... hide this."
He's right. I slowly nod my head. "That would've been nice."
"...I wish I had a better life," he chuckles, though I can feel the pain in his voice. "One where I didn't have to suppress every little thing inside of me."
I don't know how to approach or comfort him. I decide to just stand there and listen.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Corey looks up from the ground and glances at me. His eyes are red. A single tear is streaming down his face. And yet, he still smiles with genuine kindness. "I'm sorry if I ever made you feel... less than."
I can't take my eyes off of his tear-stained face. "...Maybe, in another life, we're both better people."
Corey chuckles. "I'd be perfectly fine with myself now, knowing there's another world that exists where we're better people."
Again, he's right. In another world, we could've been great friends. Maybe even more than that. And yet, here we are, worlds apart. He's standing right in front of me, but he feels a world apart.
I want to hug him again but it doesn't feel possible. Everything about this doesn't feel possible, as if him and I were never meant to connect. It feels like we're in a small cosmic bubble that transcends space and time, allowing for this one small moment to occur without the entire timeline of life getting knocked off course.
But, unfortunately, time was running out. He had to go back to his world, and I had to return to mine.
"...Is this the last time I ever talk to you?" I ask him, feeling the gravity of the moment.
Corey thinks a while before answering.
"I wish it wasn't," he tells me, biting his bottom lip with anguish. "But, I have to separate myself from this. From you. I don't want to hurt you anymore than I probably already have."
"Why can't we just be friends?" I take a step closer and I do the unthinkable: I grab his hand. "Who cares what people say about us? Or you?"
Corey looks down at my hand around his. He pulls away.
"...That won't work. Not with the life I chose for myself."
"You have so much more life left to live." I can hear the desperation in my voice. "Why not spend it being better?"
"I don't know how to."
Yet again, he's right.
"...Yeah," I sigh, my energy depleted as the darkness of reality sinks in. "Yeah, me neither."
"...Thank you for..." Corey begins a thought, but he's unable to finish his sentence. "Thank you for..."
I finish it for him. "...fucking you?"
We both laugh.
"Yeah. Yeah, I guess, that too, but also... thank you for not destroying my life?" He frames it as a question, though it's not supposed to be one. "Even if it's worth being destroyed."
"...I would never do that."
"Then, just... thank you."
I can't stop staring at him. He's so much more than what people say and think he is. There's so much going on behind those eyes. This moment alone barely scratched the surface of what's hidden. I just know there's an avalanche of horror burrowed deep within that thick skull of his.
"Thank you for being nice to me," I return the gratitude. It only felt right, and I meant every word. "...Even if some of the choices you made were a little demeaning."
"Sorry about that," Corey laughs out of embarrassment. I shrug it off. Once the silence seeps in again, Corey holds his hand out for me to shake. "...I'll see you in another life, then, yeah?"
"...Yeah. Another life."
We shake.
"Take care of yourself."
"You too."
And along with our final goodbyes, he departs faster than the oxygen escaping my lungs. He's gone before I can really register what had just occurred.
Two separate worlds collided, right before my eyes.
I splash water onto my face in the bathroom, allowing the cool dampness to extinguish the raging fire burning in my head.
I look up into the mirror, seeing the tears falling down my face.
Somehow, I forgot I was wearing a hearing aid.
Corey never mentioned it once.
I don't think he even noticed it.