His toes brushed against my leg, tracing somnolent lines along the curve of my calf to my ankle. Up and down. Up and down. A continuous soothing motion, like the gentle rocking of a ship, and with every stroke I drifted closer to sleep.
"But I am asleep."
His chin tilted up, resting on the slope of my shoulder, all hard angles and bone where it was once lean with muscle. I wondered, was he disappointed with me? Disgusted? I didn't look down, instead connected dots with the little bumps in the white paint on the ceiling, already knowing the curious glance he would be giving me. I don't think I ever want to look into those eyes again.
Long and spidery fingers splayed across my chest, dancing languidly across my collarbone and shoulder, down my arm, before entwining with my own hands, thin and bony. He had piano fingers, I thought to myself, remembering the few times he played for me. I could still see the calm smile as those same fingers arched over the keys, dark eyelashes fluttering, his body relaxed and fluid. When he played his music, listening to him was like falling into a dream. It was like learning how to breathe and feel for the first time, like looking out at the ocean with the salty wind at your back and the sunset sinking below the horizon, painting the sky with oranges and reds and purples. I wish he could play for me once last time.
My hand squeezed his, our fingers locking. The touch that used to ignite flames beneath my flesh felt cold and empty as steel. I gripped his hand tighter.
"Dave?" He murmured, almost inaudibly. His breath puffed softly against the sensitive skin of my neck, warm and moist. Or was I just imagining the heat flush across my skin? The ceiling spun above me and I had to close my eyes to prevent myself from feeling nauseous. Just count to ten. Take deep breaths. You'll be fine. I didn't notice I was already unravelling. He stayed silent, tense.
"Hey John, 'member the first time we met?" My voice was hoarse and quiet.
There was no reply for a few moments. Blood rushed furiously through my ears, electricity surged through me, short circuiting my nerves, my brain. He could probably feel my heart trying to force its way out of my chest. I wondered if this is what a heart attack felt like. I wondered if I was dying.
It felt like centuries before he responded, I wasn't even sure he had heard me at first until I felt his lips curve gently against my heated skin. His fingers squeezed mine back, thumb rubbing small circles onto the back of my hand. The electricity died, my heart calmed. "'Course I remember." He laughed through his nose, burying his face into the crook of my neck, "I thought you were gonna be such a douche bag with those stupid sunglasses of yours and that hair. Instead you turned out to be a bigger dork than I am."
He sighed, long and heavy. "Dave, I – "
"I remember lookin' at you," I cut him off. I didn't want the conversation to go where I knew it was headed. It was too soon, I wasn't ready. "I remember lookin' at you, seeing you next to Jade. You had that big grin on your face. And shit, I just remember thinking how much I wanted to get to know you. How anyone who could smile that like must be someone special. You were like fuckin' Adonis, or whoever that god of desire an' shit is. Coming down from Olympus on your mighty Pegasus. Wait that's the name of that goddamn pony, ain't it? Coming down on your goddamn flyin' horse, toga billowin' out, that fuckin' grin of yours blinding everything in sight. Stole my heart right then and – "
"Dave."
My jaw snapped shut, teeth grinding andlips pursed tightly. Suddenly, I could feel the weight of the room pressing down on me, the air was thick and heavy and my lungs ached and burned. John shifted, his arms stationing themselves on either side of my head, holding his body above mine. He was still and solid, the essence strength, while I lay trembling beneath him, nerves clicking and tightening, ready to snap at any moment.
"Dave," John repeated, no more than a whisper. "Look at me." Taking a deep breath, my eyes fluttered open.
With all the possible words in the English language, I could never justly describe how incandescent and blue his eyes were. They burned like crystalline sapphires in their soft frame of effeminate lashes, scorching wherever his gaze rested for too long, leaving scars that would remain long after my body has withered and turned to ash. That's how I used to remember them. But now they were just dead stars.
His hand rose to my ashen cheek, nimble fingers smoothing away invisible lines and caressing the galaxy of freckles across my prominent cheekbones. Those eyes, those empty starless eyes stared back into mine. A wistful smile tugged at the corners of his bowed mouth as his hand traveled slowly to my hairline, pushing my thick hair back out of my eyes. I wasn't wearing my aviators, I never did when I saw John.
"We can't do this anymore," John's voice broke at the end. His fingers threaded through my blond locks desperately, pallid lips still held that quivering smile. "You know we can't."
A choked sob bubbled like molten lava in my throat, my weakened hands grasping at his shirt, his arms, whatever I could reach. "No please, no. Please don't leave me!" I had known this moment was coming for a while now, but no amounts of time or anticipation could prepare me for the blow. The walls were cracking around us, plaster and paint falling to the floor. Glass from the windows and the mirrors shattered. "Please, please, please…"
John pressed his cool forehead to mine, our eyes closed in these final moments. So soft, so tender that I could barely feel it, he pressed his lips to my own cracked and bleeding ones, pulling away seconds later.
"I love you."
I opened my bloodshot eyes with a start. My heart throbbed painfully, my breath caught in the lump in my throat as I choked on my tears. He was gone. But he couldn't be gone. That wasn't right, he was right there just a moment ago. My skin was slick with sweat as I lay in the humid Texas heat, sheets kicked to the end of the bed. With a quick glance out the window, I could tell it wasn't even day break.
Fumbling for the nightstand, my clammy fingers searched for my cellphone, almost knocking over a glass of water before they enclosed around the smooth object. With practiced ease, I dialed a number I knew by heart, pressing the phone to my ear as I tried to stifle my sobs.
It rang for a short while before the person on the other end picked up.
"Yes, David?" The feminine voice inquired, irritation evident in their sleepy tone.
"Rose, what do I do?" I gasped into the phone, "Rose, he's gone. He left me."
She sighed heavily, keeping silent for a few excruciating moments. Her voice was soft and despondent when she spoke again.
"Dave, you need to move on. He's been dead for almost two years."