the stars will fade out, love will die out
641 words // a snapshot of the eye of the hurricane
It’s been four weeks. William places the empty, cold coffee mug on the counter and switches off the lights on his way out of the kitchen, feeling like he just switched off a lighthouse. It feels like ending something big. He’s stranded in the living room, suddenly very aware that the tip of his tongue is numb from burning it with boiling water yesterday. He’s feeling odd and out of place - he’s too long, too tired, too thin, too inconvenient when all he wants to do is curl up in a little ball and burrow into the carpet. He’s lucky he’s got Mike here.
When he first heard the news, Sisky was the first one to hug him, biting back his own tears and bringing back memories in William’s mind from when Sisky’s Labrador puppy had been run over by a car. Poor Rafa. It was only a couple months old. Now it seems small in comparison, but it’d been the biggest tragedy his child self had had to face yet. For a fraction of a second, he forgot his own pain and hugged Sisky back. They needed each other to make it through the freezing night.
Now Sisky’s at home, with his girlfriend and his two cats, and William is at his own home, away from the pitiful stares. William’s happy for Sisky; he has something to cling to and stay afloat. ‘I used to have that too’, he thinks, because he’s not above feeding himself all the pity the others aren’t there to shove down his throat. He sits at the couch with all intentions of starting a pathetic one man show, but Mike is back from smoking in the backyard.
It takes him half a second to take in what’s going on. They’ve known each other for so long that they didn’t even need to say a word before it was decided Mike would be coming home with Bill. He knows he’s done the right thing when William nails his liquid eyes to him, looking as pale as that night. And that other one, when all the goodbyes had to be said and the old lover’s still face had to be recognized. William had closed his eyes and clutched his sister’s hand then.
‘His skin,’ Mike thinks, ‘Asphyxia, for fuck’s sake’.
He sighs and soaks up William in an embrace. William closes his eyes now again and is sure he can feel the waves when Mike inhales and then exhales, warm all over except his back where Mike’s arms can’t reach him. It breaks his heart that he can’t ever feel complete, not even like this. He’s closing in, too worn out and near the sunset to stay awake anymore.
“It’s not fair,” William drags across his broken throat and breathes over Mike’s collarbone.
Mike knows he’s not talking about the world being cruel or any of that. William is too in love with the world, too aware of whose fault it all really is. William had something to cling to that helped him keep his head over the water - most times it was all rushed and halfway done, but then there were also occasions where they would stop themselves from diving right in to kiss the tip of the other’s nose and watch his face part in sun-melting grins. William is a hopeless romantic. He was in love with a hopeless.
“I know,” Mike breathes back, lulling William to sleep with the cadence of his sick lungs.
Mike’s not ready to tell his bandmates about it, not yet. He’s too scared himself, and he feels like they can only cope with one thing at the time. He’s so angry at Gabe for having no regrets, for not being more careful. He should have cared. He should have counted how many muscle relaxants he was going to take.
It’s been four weeks. William places the empty, cold coffee mug on the counter and switches off the lights on his way out of the kitchen, feeling like he just switched off a lighthouse. It feels like ending something big. He’s stranded in the living room, suddenly very aware that the tip of his tongue is numb from burning it with boiling water yesterday. He’s feeling odd and out of place - he’s too long, too tired, too thin, too inconvenient when all he wants to do is curl up in a little ball and burrow into the carpet. He’s lucky he’s got Mike here.
When he first heard the news, Sisky was the first one to hug him, biting back his own tears and bringing back memories in William’s mind from when Sisky’s Labrador puppy had been run over by a car. Poor Rafa. It was only a couple months old. Now it seems small in comparison, but it’d been the biggest tragedy his child self had had to face yet. For a fraction of a second, he forgot his own pain and hugged Sisky back. They needed each other to make it through the freezing night.
Now Sisky’s at home, with his girlfriend and his two cats, and William is at his own home, away from the pitiful stares. William’s happy for Sisky; he has something to cling to and stay afloat. ‘I used to have that too’, he thinks, because he’s not above feeding himself all the pity the others aren’t there to shove down his throat. He sits at the couch with all intentions of starting a pathetic one man show, but Mike is back from smoking in the backyard.
It takes him half a second to take in what’s going on. They’ve known each other for so long that they didn’t even need to say a word before it was decided Mike would be coming home with Bill. He knows he’s done the right thing when William nails his liquid eyes to him, looking as pale as that night. And that other one, when all the goodbyes had to be said and the old lover’s still face had to be recognized. William had closed his eyes and clutched his sister’s hand then.
‘His skin,’ Mike thinks, ‘Asphyxia, for fuck’s sake’.
He sighs and soaks up William in an embrace. William closes his eyes now again and is sure he can feel the waves when Mike inhales and then exhales, warm all over except his back where Mike’s arms can’t reach him. It breaks his heart that he can’t ever feel complete, not even like this. He’s closing in, too worn out and near the sunset to stay awake anymore.
“It’s not fair,” William drags across his broken throat and breathes over Mike’s collarbone.
Mike knows he’s not talking about the world being cruel or any of that. William is too in love with the world, too aware of whose fault it all really is. William had something to cling to that helped him keep his head over the water - most times it was all rushed and halfway done, but then there were also occasions where they would stop themselves from diving right in to kiss the tip of the other’s nose and watch his face part in sun-melting grins. William is a hopeless romantic. He was in love with a hopeless.
“I know,” Mike breathes back, lulling William to sleep with the cadence of his sick lungs.
Mike’s not ready to tell his bandmates about it, not yet. He’s too scared himself, and he feels like they can only cope with one thing at the time. He’s so angry at Gabe for having no regrets, for not being more careful. He should have cared. He should have counted how many muscle relaxants he was going to take.