My thanks to Sylvain for the beta work.
Always
The counselling had proved difficult, he had dreaded each session, having to open up, share his pain, his self-hate, his anger, his fears, all the ugliness languishing inside of him. He always felt drained afterwards, and always needed some time alone; he would make his way home and take refuge in his room. Once there, he would lie on his bed, close his eyes and drift off to sleep, lose himself in the nothingness.
It was easier now, a lot easier, and that was because it was actually doing some good. It was slowly but surely helping him come to terms with what had happened and, in the process, it was helping ease the hollow ache that was still present all these months after Jackson's death. That was something he hadn't believed possible, he thought the agony would always be with him, that it would only wither and die when he did.
He was much calmer in himself, his mind clearer and he hadn't cut himself in a while. Now, when things started getting too much, when he needed the release provided by cutting into his own flesh, he instead turned to the breathing techniques he learned from his counsellor. He hadn't expected them to work, but surprisingly they did.
Now that he could think straight, and could think past what he'd done... what he'd helped Jackson to do... he saw his actions differently now. He no longer believed he'd forced poison down Jackson's throat, and for a while there, he actually believed he had! Now he knew the truth, that he had, against his own wishes, held a glass to Jackson's lips, so that he could drink something that would end his pain.
He hadn't murdered him, he hadn't taken his life. Still, he had regrets and they would stay with him until his own death. He wished he had been stronger, that he had been able to say no, that he had been able to persuade Jackson to give himself more time before making the decision he made. Maybe things would be different if he had... then maybe not, Jackson always did know his own mind, he did nothing without carefully thinking it through... maybe no amount of time would have had him change his mind and his mental suffering would have been endless.
There was one thing in particular about that terrible day that still haunted him, and that was Jackson's plea not to forget him. It had torn at his heart then and it did every time he thought about it now. It upset him that Jackson feared he would forget him, and it scared him that one day, that for whatever reason, he just might. For a while he'd obsessively kept him in his thoughts, hating himself if his mind strayed onto something or someone else; he realised now how stupid that had been, how unrealistic.
Now that the haze had lifted, now that he could think about Jackson without sinking further into a depression, he had decided to do something positive, something to honour Jackson's memory, something lasting, something that would live on long after he did. He also knew exactly what he wanted to do. He wasn't sure where he'd heard about it, but the idea had left its mark.
The internet had thrown up endless amounts of sites offering the service, he'd spent god knows how long trawling through them, wanting the best, wanting to get it right. After finally deciding on one, he had typed in all the details requested, then pressed the send button, it couldn't have been more simple, and all he had had to do then was wait.
The package had arrived that very morning, a lot quicker than he had expected. His mum had left it on his bed. Being her usual nosey self, she'd asked him what it was as soon as he'd gotten home from work, and being his usual self, he'd ignored her. He would tell her though, in his own time.
He didn't know what he'd expected, but it wasn't a large flat box, and that's what had come. Eyeing it with interest, with what he supposed could be likened to excitement, he told himself he had to shower first before he could open it, he was oily not to mention sweaty and he didn't want its contents soiled in any way.
Showered and dressed, he picked up the package. It was very light, didn't look much from the outside, but inside was a gesture he knew Jackson would have appreciated if he was still here, one he would have seen as romantic. If only he'd thought to do something like this when he was alive.
Some might think it a stupid thing to do, that it was soppy, corny, a waste of money, something that the likes of him would laugh at, and he might have done so once, when he was trying to hide his sensitive side, when he was trying to be the hard man. The last year had proved he wasn't so hard, that he crumbled, fell apart easily enough, but at least now he was picking up the pieces.
The documents contained in the package were layered in tissue paper. As he carefully removed them, his gaze immediately fell on the elaborately designed parchment, on the name highlighted in bold italics, lingering there a little while before slowly moving down the page. He liked the wording, the sentiment expressed there.
His attention moved then to another document, one that held a diagram, if diagram was the right word to... map? Yeah, map was a better way to describe it. It was a map of the heavens, of a certain constellation, and there was a particular star that was circled... the one he had had officially named after Jackson.
He knew there was no hope of ever seeing the star with his naked eye, but with a telescope he could, and one day he might just do that. For now though, it was enough just to know it was out there, and always would be...
End