I do not own an Island Like You. This was actually written for a homework assignment. I was told it was amazing, by my friends. They told me it made them want to cry. Personally I'm honored. So here's a little something to read. For the record...this seriously reminded me of RENT as I wrote this, so I'd like to thank Jonathon Larson for inspiration.

I sighed lightly, walking around aimlessly, attempting to distract myself. For what felt like the hundredth time in the past hour I looked at the pale envelope I was carrying. Part of me wanted to open it, to see its' contents, to know my future. Another half told me not to, that no matter what it said, it would be different, painful.

It was expected of course, maybe even right that I'd done it here. I was back in the barrio, just for a few days, just long enough to see the Players performance. For a bunch of kids they were amazing. Of course, considering that I was a helper and just a little bit biased, probably meant something to.

Sighing, I turned over the envelope and held it to the sun, trying to guess at its' contents without opening it. Shaking my head, I changed direction; I didn't want to see my helpers, my friends, not until I was really ready. I began to walk towards the small park area, slowly getting lost in thought as I moved, memories running through my mind.

Before I knew it, it was four years ago. We were sitting in a room, comfortably decorated, practical fashion showing in every inch of the room.

We were comfortable on the couch, relaxing to most people, but involved in a life changing conversation. "We shouldn't be doing this," that voice, soft and gentle, attempting to persuade me away from what was considered danger, "Too much could happen."

My own voice replied soothingly. "Nothing will happen, you know it won't. There's no danger."

"Yes there is! You know there is, so much could….don't try and deny it!" His voice was growing panicked; terror was visible in his eyes, eyes that captivated me every time I saw them.

I touched his cheek gently, "You don't need to worry about that. I know that it could happen, but it won't."

"Don't be so sure! I'm a curse, the death sentence! You'll only be in danger!"

"I'm a risk taker; life without danger, as you put it is boring. Besides, what use is there caring without fighting for it?"

"What about people? You'll be ridiculed by people, they'll-"

"The people who care, won't mind. Those who do mind don't matter." I replied, cutting him off, my voice firm.

"But-"

"Hush," I replied, my voice gentle, "Do something for yourself for once in your life."

Tears began to form and I wiped them away with one hand stubbornly, my mind once more casting me back to the past, this time from just six months ago.

My lover had been sprawled on the couch, his face calm and serene. "Hey, mi amor?" He'd called out, voice showing just a hint of his plans.

I turned to him, eying him warily, wondering what he was thinking, that tone normally meant trouble. "Yes?"

"I need to do something, something big, to help people. Think of the people like me, they don't know you can make life bigger and better, I need to show them. We'll use our talents. A play!" His warm eyes danced with the idea forming in his mind.

I chuckled lightly. "So you want to go back to the people who shunned you for being you, talk to their children and put on a play with them. Most likely having them think you corrupted their children while you do it because you're 'different'?" I had to ask, just to clarify.

He smiled at my terms. "Yep."

I couldn't help but return his smile, his mood was contagious. "It's a deal then, we'll do it, corrupt some kids and call it a summer."

His smile widened and he got up quickly, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the kitchen. "Well come on then! We've got things to do! We have to think of a performance spot, and a plot, we'll need to decide parts and everything. Let's go!" He began to put on his shoes and coat, obviously planning on looking around the city for inspiration.

Sliding on my own shoes I followed him out the door. Our plan had begun.

The memory blurred into another this time as I walked, I didn't even try to decipher where I was, I was content to live in the past, with happiness, to leave the pain of loneliness for another day.

It was just two months ago, we were curled together on the couch, enjoying the peace and quiet of each others presence and the calmness of the night.

I smiled fondly as my lover's body shifted, his head falling to rest against my chest, his hand brushing my own. I leaned down to kiss his cheek gently. "What are you thinking about?" I murmured.

He twined his fingers with my own and sighed. "Just that no matter what happens; I did what I wanted to. I got out; I'm helping the kids, even if I can't see them." He paused "I'm happy, that's all."

"That's all?" I replied quietly, not wanting to ruin the moment. "If you ask me you being happy is a pretty good thing in my opinion."

"Yes, but that's you." He reminded me. "You seem to be obsessed with making me happy, or at least that's how you act."

I shrugged, acting casual. "Let me put this simply…you've had a very shitty life so far. I plan on making it the best I can."

He opened his mouth to reply, only to be cut off by a fit of coughing. His small frame shook with pain as shudders wracked his body. I wrapped an arm gently around him, holding him carefully. I knew that I could do nothing to help until he had stopped. Stroking his back gently, I offered him a pill, his AZT, and some water, which he took weakly. I sent a silent prayer to whoever dictated our lives, asking them to keep my lover out of pain.

I sighed to myself, I was on a park bench, and was glad the park was nearly empty, I knew I would have to keep moving soon, to escape reality, but for a moment, I gazed at the sky, envying it's calm fluffy clouds, before my mind transported me to my final memory, one I hated, yet cherished.

We were on the bed in the hospital; we both knew it was over, that his time was up. I lay against the headboard, my lover in my lap. The air was heavy, and I wanted to take him and leave, to escape the place where people who had no concerns about his emotions came to visit their favorite actor from Cats, where doctors, who were so uncaring, took blood samples and monitored his heart rate periodically. Where the people who did care weren't present, because he thought it would be wrong to worry them.

Even now, he told me not to tell them, to let our younger friends enjoy their musical. He assured me that without me telling them anything they would find out. That thought worried me, I didn't want to hurt them by not saying anything, but I wouldn't, it would hurt him to much.

I turned my attention to the heart monitors, which were subtly slowing with every passing minute. I held his hands, gently stroking his skin. Once beautiful caramel colored skin was now sickly pale shade caught between white and brown, his lips were dry and chapped, and his skin was blazing hot to the touch.

I spoke in a quiet whisper "You're burning up baby." I gently dabbed his forehead with a wet washcloth, attempting to soothe the fever.

"Really?" He breathed, coughing again. "It's hard to tell anymore."I stroked his arm gently, terrified for him. I didn't want to lose him like this.

And then it was over a faint sigh escaped from his lips, and with a slight shake, a slight pull in my arms, and a soft squeeze at my hand, and then, all in a flicker, it was over. My beloved's life was over in seconds.

My gaze refocused, back in the present, in the misery without him. I was at the cemetery gates. He'd told me a week before he'd died, that when it happened he wanted to be buried near his home. He said he hoped in death his family had accepted it, had accepted him.

I walked slowly up a hill until I found his gravestone. Kneeling in front of it, I read the inscription aloud. "A friend, a lover, and the one who looks not down upon, but on equal standing," I breathed. "That's you baby, you were amazing, always will be…"

I gazed at the envelope I still held. Taking a deep breath I opened it at looked at the contents, sighing quietly. "And so the cycle continues….."I murmured, taking it all in. I dropped the letter gazing at its contents.

Name: Joe Martini

Status: HIV +