My head aches, but you are there.

Holding me up, you soothe my pain away.

Wake up, wake me up now.

The dreams are pinpricks on my mind, stabbing each and every crevice.

I hear you. I see you. You are everywhere.

I remember now.

I remember quitting my job. Jumping in my car, and driving to the grocery store.

Picking up three bottles of oranges, three ketchups, and an onion.

I remember waking.

Briefly, the shadow of an imprint.

Clinging to the shopping cart, and circling the parking lot for over an hour, before a store employee comes out and helps me find the car.

I remember.

Small lines crack on your face.

You look so much older.

It scares me for a minute, but I bury it without a second thought.

I put the food away, and turn to face you.

I can feel the dumb grin breaking on my face.

I love you so much right now.

I go to you, hug you close.

But something's wrong.

You're trembling.

Your breath comes too fast against my neck.

I step back, and find your face.

A ruin.

You're barely thirty, but your eyes are so much older.

Your finger tracks slowly down my face.

Darting back and forth and quickly, you regard me, an old man watching a loved one die.

"Luke." you murmur.

Slow tears track down your face.

You bite your lip.

I blink and break away from you.

You make me nervous.

"Luke," you say again.

You follow me. Back me against the kitchen counter.

There is nothing romantic in this embrace.

"You're scaring me." you whisper. "Baby, you're scaring me."

"What are you talking about?" I reply. "I don't understand."

"You're not eating. You grab catnaps but you don't actually sleep. Yesterday you -"

You look down, quick. Your hands clench into fists and unclench.

"You called me a faggot, then kept on talking like nothing happened. You didn't even remember."

I smile, smirk. In my head I'm flying. There's a novel I always wanted to write. I think I will write it now.

You watch me. You see me fade.
"Luke, I called the hospital. You're the right age for it. I wasn't sure, but you just disappeared for hours. You're cycling. Rapid thoughts, then spiraling sadness. Luke you're -"

"I need to take a trip." I interrupt. "I need to see my dad. Help me pack."

I slide away from him, and enter our room.

I feel him following me.

He grabs my wrist, and gently guides me towards me.

"We're not going to your dad. We're going to the hospital. Do you trust me?"

He scares me. Why is he fucking scaring me?

My tongue feels heavy, my brain is floating above my body.

I hold him in me, feel the pressure of his warm hand on my wrist.

"Yes, Reid. I trust you."

After that, darkness.