"Hey, fag!" One guy yelled over at John. He looked over, which for some reason was hilarious to this guy and his group of friends.
It was nighttime, and nobody was around to witness what was happening.
"Go get AIDS or something dyke."
He took out his phone, getting ready to call Alexander or 911. John turned around and decided to take the long way home. Many things could happen in that moment, and he prayed that the positive outcome would surface.
But no such luck.
John heard people running up behind him, and he whirled around, swinging his fist with him. The leader of the gang fell back, which lead to other guys turning on John. Their eyes spoke for them, which is why barely anyone heard the struggle take place.
Except for Alex. Unknown by anyone there, John had accidently called Alexander, who was listening to the whole thing take place. Miles away, in his house, Alex burst out the door, tracing John's location.
John's vision was fading, and the boys kicked him in the back, legs, and stomach. All the while, he was trying to get up and fight back.
The leader, who John had punched earlier, pulled out a gun.
Alex arrived just in time to see him pull trigger to the back of John's head. The last thing John did before he passed out was reach for Alex.
"Hey. John," Alex whispered.
The lights appeared in his vision. "Huh? What? Where am I?"
The doctor explained to Alex, "That's good. He can still talk. If he lost any bigger part of his brain, he would have to learn to talk all over again."
Alex sat outside the whole time, listening for John's sweet voice to answer their questions. The people who did this to him would pay Alex thought.
John was okay, just didn't remember anything. None of our love. None of the nights we spent together.
Alex couldn't but help to think it was his fault. He should have been with John at night. They should have been together, doing anything other than having John forget him.
Time passed. Alexander was lost without John, but managing. John was able to form new memories with Alex. And everyday without fail, forget-me-nots were sent to John.
Anonymously.