I knew better than to be blindly running in the middle of the night. Anything could have happened—mugging, rape, random occurrence of a dragon swooping down and rolling a one on my reflex save. But none of that mattered. The feeling of pure dread just wouldn't go away. At least that was the case before I tripped on my shoelaces and bumped into the nearest stranger. As I stuttered to come up with a quick apology, it finally hit me. The tall blondie with green eyes and the cheesiest grin was none other than Jasper. "Hey man," he welcomed me, encasing me in that same tight hug I always get,
"I sent a text your way not too long ago, what's up?" Way to remind me of all the spectacularly grand shit my life had been spewing out at me tonight.
"Nothing but hanging with you, dumbass." I covered up with a smile. He smiled back, but when I looked up to his eyes, it looked as if he had been crying. If that wasn't a warning sign, I don't know what would be.
"You okay dude?" I asked, giving him the "tell me now or I'll whoop your ass to the moon" look.
"It's good man, Bella just…" He trailed off in thought for a minute before shaking his head and trailing into the bar. Sighing, I followed after him. The place was about as dry the "Do Not Eat" packet in a box of crackerjacks. Angela was cleaning her glasses as usual. Jasper sulked off to the men's room and I took a seat at the bar. On a better day, the place would be packed to the corners, mostly horny drunks trying to get at her—the girl's chest could have burnt at least two of the topless towers of Ilium, or launched at least thirty ships. The fact that the bar was empty meant one good thing: druggage.
"Hey Angela, what's on the menu tonight?" I asked, balling my collected tips in my right hand. I could go hungry for a half a day if it meant calming down my friend—and myself. '
"You're such a dweeb, McCarty." She replied, sweeping her long dreads from her face.
"You're in luck. My dealer's dealer got a good deal on some Canadian Red." I looked at her, and I couldn't help but ask.
"What the hell is in Canadian anyway?" I asked jeeringly, earning the scowl only Angela could give.
"Like I have a clue, I just sell, dude. Fifty for an ounce." It was just my luck I had made twenty-five bucks tonight and I had thirty from before that. I handed her the cash and she slid the baggie to me in a highball glass, just as Jasper came out of the restroom. His long face shortened slightly as he caught sight of the overflowing glass in front of me. He still wasn't his usual cheery self, but at least he no longer looked like Tiny Cat after her weekly bath.
"Nice! Need me to chip in?"
" No, I got it," I replied, "Joe's has been good to me this week."
"I'll get the next one, then," he said, coming up next to me and taking a seat at the bar.
"And don't even try to argue, you've picked up the last three for me when I had that ticket." I spread my hands wide.
"Hey, it was my pleasure. Besides, you bought the bong I'm gonna smoke most of it with." He gave me a flash of that stunning grin before returning his attention to the glass. He pulled a pack of Zig Zags out of his jacket pocket and flicked it at me. I made an attempt at catching it out of the air, but it bounced off my shoulder and landed on that little kick block thing they always install under bars for reasons I've never been able to fathom. I've always ended up stubbing my toes on the damn things while drunk. I ducked under the bar and fished out the papers, then efficiently ground up a few buds in the little yin/yang grinder I picked up for three bucks at a flea market downtown. Nice stuff. Sticky, which had a nice feel to it. Rolled up neat as anything, too, so a few moments of concentration sufficed to produce a couple of tidy little joints with no unwieldy lumps or bits of stick poking through the paper. I flicked one back at Jasper—it went wide, but he barely caught it between two fingers—and we headed out back. He'd picked up a couple of beers from Angela while I was rolling, so I duked her three bucks by way of a tip. We service industry folks have to look out for each other. No one else will.
A few passes of the joint and I felt as high as I've ever been. Jasper was rambling off about some Star Trek episode where Capitan Kirk died, again. We decided to smoke in the alley, like we used to. Our spot was in the moonlight, which made our skin glow with a soft radiance. I tilted my head back and allowed myself a moment to drink in Jasper's form. His skin had a fair pallor, stretched across long, graceful limbs. The pale yellow hair washed him out, complimented by eyes the color of jeweled emeralds. His cheekbones were high and full, but not full enough—he worked at the Stop 'N Shop and had to choose between food and electricity. For one more second, I let myself wonder how soft his cheek would be—until I caught myself.
"So, where is Bella?" I asked, needing to change the subject to something more distracting. He answered me with a howling laugh, almost music to my ears.
"I'll tell you something," he choked out, "the shit I've put up with to be with her really wasn't worth it." He shifted and gave me a look that I couldn't place. "She never was." He then took another toke, leaving a somber silence between us.
"Well, it took you long enough to catch on," I said, finally breaking the mood. He nodded, then turned himself toward me.
"I have a tendency to be pretty oblivious. Especially when what I want is right in front of me." Before I could question what was going on, his lips were on mine. And time stood still for us. All of my blood rushed to my head and I felt the ground moving, but I was stationary. When he pulled back a blush stung on my cheeks as if it was tattooed there. I stared at him blankly for a split second as he smiled, all the way up to his eyes.
"No..." The word slipped from my lips as a whisper first, before the tears came. His brows furrowed in concern and a little puzzlement, a look of knowing he had done something wrong but not knowing what it was.
"No!" I yelled out, standing up.
"I don't want to be the consolation prize! I don't want to be the rebound guy, Jasper. How could you do this to me?" He shot to his feet, coming toward me to calm me down. "Emmett, I know this hurts you, but I know you are the one for me. I think about you all the time and I can always count on you. Even for the hard stuff—like this." He wrapped his arms around me, this time in a lover's embrace. I yearned to give in, to hold him and not think about it any longer. But my pride won out against me as I pushed him away.
"Why do this now, Jasper? I've loved you since we met, since I learned about you and who you are as a person. I've watched you from the sidelines and silently prayed that one day I'd be with you, that I'd be happy—even though it seemed so unlikely. But not like this, Jasper. Not like I'm the final pick for the team." I turned on the heels of my sneakers and started walking away.
"I'll wait for you Emmett," he called out to me. "I'll wait for you, as long as it—" And that's when the sound of gunshots changed everything forever.
Do you know that feeling you get when you're sitting in class and your leg falls asleep? That blank heavy numbness before the pins and needles start to tingle? That feeling was a blanket wrapped around my body. It was skin tight, with no room to move. His blood stained all of my uniform. I held him while he bled out, using everything I'd learned in my useless med school trying to save him. The books don't tell you what to do if you fail. So I did the only thing I could—I shut down.
Angela ran out to the alley to see me curled up next to the body. She hid the weed, then called the paramedics. By the time they got there his eyes were a slate green, dull, glazed and void of any of the happiness I once saw in them. I was questioned, whereupon I told them my back was turned. The cops chalked it up to a mugging attempt, although his ID and wallet were still in the pockets of his jeans. No one offered their condolences. The only family he had left was a few cousins in Ohio. No one would come to get the body soon. And all I could do was stare at it. Blankly. The cold, lifeless thing that was once my best friend lay on the table in the morgue. Never would I see that dazzling smile that I was accustomed to every day. Never would I be hugged by his strong arms, slightly freckled from his stint as a swimmer. And his eyes wouldn't light up when he saw me anymore—they'd just stare back. Blankly.
"I need to go home." My voice was flat and raspy from screaming at him—begging for him to hold on, that everything I said didn't matter and that I needed him, loved him. And he never heard it. It was too late, too soon. A female police officer escorted me to my apartment, which remained the same way I had left it. The title screen to Kingdom Hearts 2 flashed on the television. Tiny Cat growled at me for her meal. I grabbed a handful of kibble and let it fall sloppily into her dish. My notes lay scattered on the bed, my essay still not completed. Next to them was my bag, filled with tools we used sometimes in class—one being a very sharp scalpel. I was just tired, exhausted to the point that I'd make Atlas look like a wimpy teenager. Without thinking, I wrote on the kitchen pad "Sorry. I have to go too," brandished the scalpel I'd obtained, and ran it up the length of my left arm. The sting was like a note plucked on a harp string, resonating to the depths of my core. I did the same to my right arm, slowly—for I was shaking from the nerves that had shut down with the incision. The blood ran in rivulets down the length of my arm, blending seamlessly with his bloodstains on my shirt. I was glad for us to be together in some way, even if it was a twisted thought. I sat on my couch, still dingy from the day I purchased it from Mr. Li, the landlord. Boy, would he be pissed. As I felt myself slip into the dark unknown, I couldn't help but wonder why a beautiful blonde was sitting on the coffee table across the way.