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Lucas never asked for any of it to happen. He could never think of a single idea of why the laws of nature or the will of a higher being placed the world into the hands of this catastrophe that devastated the lives of so many. He didn’t know if the situation he was in affected the rest of the inhabitants of this blue planet. But he knew that it affected him.
It affected the way he behaved. It affected the way he lived. It affected the way he thought.
It infected him.
His bloodstream brought about a pollution throughout his entire body, Into his heart. Into his mind. This virus swam through his veins, and as the days, hours, minutes, seconds passed, he didn’t know if he could control it from getting to his mentality – getting to his humanity.
Lucas was by no means infected physically. He never suffered one of those torturous and painful bites that those things inflicted on the innocent. Everyone in this world was innocent – innocent like a child, unaware and inexperienced. Never were they trained for these types of instances, problems… pandemics.
Lucas’s mind raced as he laid on his back, staring at his ceiling. The night was cold, and he hadn’t been able to fall asleep at all. Even before the world fell, he suffered from the inability to control his thoughts. But nowadays, it seemed as if his thoughts were fleeting and remained only on the things that happen rather than on what happened. Tears would always well up in his eyes as he tried his absolute best to remember the sound of his best friend’s voice. He didn’t know if he was still alive. He could be roaming the streets of who knows where in this… in this apocalypse. Lucas didn’t know, but so badly did he want to.
Tears rolled down Lucas’s cheek. Hot, angry tears full of questions and the need for them to be answered. Why? That single word throttled him into a sob as he turned over to his side, clutching his pillow, alone in a cabin in the middle of the woods somewhere, alone with his thoughts, alone with the crickets chirping outside. Alone with those things that Lucas now heard getting closer to his home – if he could even call what he had a home. The term became even more arbitrary nowadays.
Their snarls began to grow louder and louder by the second. Lucas wiped his face and he got out from under the covers. He walked briskly out the front door, grabbed the shovel that was resting on the wooden railing of his front porch, and made his way down the stairs and into the dying forest.
One. Lucas counted how many of them were approaching the cabin. Just one. Lucas walked up to it, hands white-knuckling the shovel, ready to put the creature out of its misery. It bared its yellow teeth at Lucas, its flesh drooping off of its face as it rotted. The dead seemed to be more alive than Lucas ever felt. Their purpose was clear, innate, and instinctual: find food. And for the dead, that was Lucas’s arm. Or leg. Or neck. Or face.
Lucas didn’t know what purpose he served anymore. Lucas tried to remember what he did before any of this happened. Before his purpose in the world was stripped away from him. Lucas brushed his thoughts aside and saved them for another time.
Lucas flung the flat of the shovel right on the creature’s face and as it fell to the ground, he drove the sharp end right into its skull, killing it and letting it die for a second time. Lucas would never kill anyone or anything. But he knew that once reanimated, these things were out to rip humanity away from the hands of the living. So, he made a compromise with himself in order to ensure his survival – in order to ensure that he kept his humanity.
__________
Dawn broke and Lucas had only managed to get an hour of sleep. This became his routine. He slept at 11 P.M. and woke up at 6 A.M. according to his clock. His clock was fully functional, but he didn’t know how long the batteries in it would last. After getting about an hour or two of sleep, he would get up, brush his teeth with the toothbrush and Crest toothpaste he had managed to salvage from the gas station nearby out of the woods, and then make himself a hearty breakfast of eggs. Just eggs.
Lucas taught himself how to be content in the apocalypse. And just eggs would suffice with appeasing his hunger. After breakfast, Lucas would tidy up his cabin. It was a simple cabin meant to sustain one or two people. It had a worn-out sofa that Lucas saw as a luxury, a battery-powered television for watching old films on VHS, a twin-sized bed, a kitchen with a stove and a small pantry, and a dining table to eat and write at.
Lucas liked to write. He didn’t know what to write about nowadays, so instead, he kept a log of his experiences in the apocalypse. How many of those things showed up on his lawn (if he could even call it a lawn), how many eggs he’s eaten, how many movies he’s watched (and rewatched), a list of things he was able to salvage from various locations, and how many people he’s interacted with since the beginning of the apocalypse. That last category was never touched.
Lucas hasn’t had human interaction since it all happened. He was alone in this huge, empty world. Sometimes it made him sad and he wished he had a companion to talk to, to touch, to be with. The only voice he ever heard nowadays was his own voice. And the voice of his rifle. His rifle’s voice was loud, and it often scared away the birds nested in the trees above.
__________
Lucas sat on his couch as he watched an animated movie that depicted toys coming to life. This was how he liked to unwind after a long day of salvaging and checking his rations and hunting or fishing for food. This was how he maintained his sanity – by listening to the voices that came out of the television. This was how he remembered of what was.
The sun set into the earth bringing about a darkness over the woods. Lucas’s attention was so fixated on the screen of the television, but everything was pulled back to reality when he heard a thud on his porch. Lucas’s head shot back to look at his front door. He got up slowly. How the hell did one of those things manage to get up the stairs, Lucas thought. He grabbed his trusty shovel instead of his rifle because sound often attracted these things. Cautiously approaching his front door, he peeked outside and saw it. It was laying stomach first on the wooden planks that were nailed together to create the platform. Lucas observed it closely and carefully. It wasn’t moving. It wasn’t snarling. Is it dead? Lucas was unsure of what happened to the creature and why it had just appeared in front of his doorstep. Lucas opened his front door further and stepped outside, evading the mysterious body and keeping distance.
Lucas flipped his shovel around so that he was holding onto the side with the sharp end and poked the body with the handle, checking if it would move or start snarling at him. But it just stayed there, motionless. Lucas looked at it quizzically and knelt next to it at a safe distance. And that was when Lucas noticed that it was breathing. He was breathing.
“Oh my god,” Lucas said. “Oh my god.” The body proved itself to be an unconscious person who seemed to be searching for someplace to seek refuge. Lucas turned the person around and he noticed that the brown-haired individual was gaunt, with sunken features. “Sir?” Lucas patted his cheek gently. He groaned softly. “Oh my god.” That was really all Lucas could say right now. This was his first human interaction in what felt like centuries.
“I…” the person began to say. “I have to get back.” He said it so softly that Lucas had to lean in to hear him. Lucas hoisted the person up into a sitting position, but all that did was cause him to let out a cry of pain. Lucas looked at his hand that was holding his waist and saw that it was slick with red blood.
“We have to get you inside,” Lucas said. The person groaned even more in pain and looked paler than he did two minutes ago. “You’re losing a lot of blood.”
“No… I have… I have to get back,” the person said. “My… my friends.” As he uttered those words, he slumped slack into Lucas’s arms and went fully under into unconsciousness. Lucas put an arm underneath the stranger’s legs and another supporting his back. He let out a huff and a groan as he hoisted him up and into the cabin, shutting the door, sealing it from the outside world.
Lucas set the stranger on his twin-sized bed, ignoring how dirty the person was. He needed medical attention and he needed it quickly.
“I’m going to look at your wound,” Lucas announced for the stranger to hear, but he remembered he was unconscious. “Oh yeah, you’re knocked out. I better hurry then.” Lucas pulled the person’s shirt up to see just how bad his wound was. Lucas didn’t know anything about nursing someone, but he did know that applying pressure would help stop the bleeding. As he lifted the cloth of his shirt up, Lucas tried not to bite back in his own secondhand pain upon seeing how deep the cut on the stranger’s side was. Lucas grabbed a clean cloth from his bedside drawer and pressed it on the wound, soaking up quickly with blood.
“Everything is going to be fine,” Lucas whispered. “Everything is going to be fine.”
_________
Sleeping on the couch was strange for Lucas. He had spent all this time alone and it was even stranger having a literal stranger in his cabin in the woods. Lucas puffed out his cheeks and sighed. He looked over to the person, who was sound asleep.
Lucas had successfully patched him up, but he was going to need stitches. He didn’t want to hurt him, and he didn’t know how to stitch a wound. He decided to wait for him to wake up.
The sun began to shine as it peeked out from the horizon and light flooded into the cabin through the windows. Lucas, as usual, didn’t get any sufficient sleep, so he got up quietly and grabbed his rifle resting on the edge of the arm of the couch, careful not to wake his guest. Shutting the door behind him quietly was difficult to do since his door had always had a slight squeak to it. He tried his best, though.
Venturing into the forest was Lucas’s favorite thing to do to pass time. He would set aside traps to catch food for himself. He had a few particular spots around the forest, and he memorized their hiding places. He examined his traps and found that he had caught a few animals perfect for breakfast and dinner. He put the game he had caught in a pouch, slung his rifle over his shoulder, and proceeded to make his way back to his cabin to make breakfast.
As Lucas walked through the dense brush of the woods, he assigned voices to each of the sounds that he heard. The chirping of the bluebirds in the trees. The rustling of the fallen leaves on the ground. The gush of wind that provided a refreshing and cool breeze.
The sound of his door squeaking, the sound of footsteps on wood hurriedly making their way off of his porch, and the sound of a car door opening and closing.
Lucas made a run for his cabin and caught his guest inside his beat-up truck, searching for the keys. Lucas looked at the stranger, sitting in the prized vehicle that had helped him find this cabin so deep in the woods. It was red and it was ugly, but it got the job done. The stranger hadn’t noticed Lucas standing in front of the car.
“The keys,” Lucas began. The stranger jumped in alarm and surprise. “You want my keys?” Lucas asked, reaching into his pocket and taking out the keys to his truck from inside. He held them with his index finger and swung the key ring around teasingly. The stranger stayed silent, staring at Lucas defensively. Lucas analyzed his features through the windshield. He looked incredibly tired but handsome. His eyes mimicked that of a startled doe and the moles above the left side of his mouth were quite endearing. Lucas grinned as he made a mental comparison of the stranger’s eyebrows with the wings of a seagull, especially with them currently being arched angrily. “Hey, if you wanna go, you can go.” Lucas threw the keys into the air and the stranger caught them through the open window.
He quickly put the correct key into the ignition and turned, relief flooding his features, knowing that he had a way out of these woods. Lucas grinned as the stranger frantically turned the keys. But all that came out of the car was a sputtering engine trying to come to life.
“Yeah,” Lucas said, scratching his head with a smile. “The battery’s been dead for a while now.”
“You think that was funny?” the stranger asked with a hostile tone.
“I thought it was hilarious,” Lucas said, smiling. Lucas was surprised that he still had his charm after all this time without human interaction. “You trying to take my car is hilarious.”
“You let me take your car. You gave me the keys,” the stranger spat back.
“I let you try to take my car,” Lucas said. He walked to the stairs of the porch and sat down on the second step, still holding his game pouch. He looked at the stranger, still inside his car. “You were in pretty bad shape last night. I helped patch you up.” Lucas pointed at the stranger. He immediately felt guilty, sitting in Lucas’s car.
“Thank you,” the person said timidly. He opened the car door and stepped out. Lucas looked at what he was going to do next – observing. Lucas held out his hand, wanting his keys back. The stranger threw them into the air and Lucas caught them.
“Let me make you breakfast at least. Maybe even change those bandages,” Lucas offered. The stranger looked at his shoes awkwardly, then nodded. “I’m Lucas by the way.” Lucas got up from his sitting position and made his way into the cabin, followed closely by the stranger.
“Mark,” the stranger said. Lucas looked back at him. “My name is Mark.”
__________
After Lucas had made breakfast for himself and for his new friend who apparently went by the name of Mark and after they had eaten to their heart's content – just about as content as anyone could get with a rabbit and five eggs – the two of them sat on the couch in awkward silence. Lucas cleared his throat. Mark groaned in pain as he shuffled in his seat.
“Your wound,” Lucas began. “We should really change your bandages.” Lucas pointed at Mark’s side. He looked gaunt and tired and Lucas wanted to nurse him back to health. Mark nodded. He pulled his shirt up, revealing the blood-soaked bandages that Lucas had put on him. Mark winced upon looking at it.
“I need to stitch it,” Mark said shakily. “Do you have anything that I can use?” Lucas looked at Mark, blinking in confusion. “A needle? Thread?”
“I have a fishing hook and some fishing line. Will that do?” Lucas asked. Mark looked at him with a serious expression. He arched an eyebrow and Lucas mimicked Mark. Finally, Mark nodded.
“That’ll work. Just… clean the hook first.” Lucas got up from where he was lounging on the couch and opened up his cabinet to reveal his fishing supplies. He grabbed a spare fishing hook, line, and walked over to his makeshift medicine cabinet placed below his kitchen sink and got out some rubbing alcohol. “Good. Bring them here.” Lucas did as he was told.
“You got this?” Lucas asked skeptically as Mark pulled away from his bandages, revealing the deep cut on his side. It hadn’t looked like it improved at all and definitely needed further medical attention. Fishing line stitches would do.
“Yes, I got this,” Mark said. He threaded the fishing hook and securely knotted the line so that it would not come loose.
“What were you?” Lucas asked. Mark hummed in question. He looked up at Lucas.
“What do you mean?” Mark asked. Lucas thought about what he was going to say next, carefully.
“Like… Sorry,” Lucas stopped. “I haven’t talked to anyone in a while. Am I being too intrusive?” Mark laughed at him. He shook his head. Mark thought about what Lucas said and found it a bit sad. Should I take him back? He seems like a nice person… Mark thought quietly to himself. No, don’t be an idiot Mark. They’d kill you if you took him back with you. Stick to your mission and get back with the supplies. Mark noticed Lucas was looking at him, waiting for him to answer.
“Oh, um… No. You weren’t. Don’t worry… Did you mean what was I before… all this?” Mark asked, repeating his question for clarification.
“Yeah, exactly,” Lucas confirmed. Mark doused the fishing hook with rubbing alcohol, sterilizing the makeshift needle.
“Well… It depends. Which part of my life do you wanna know about? We can talk about how I came all the way down here from Canada before it all happened.”
“You’re Canadian?” Lucas questioned, genuinely interested. Mark nodded casually.
“Vancouver, actually,” Mark added. Mark looked down at his wound that was starting to bleed again. He had to do something before it started to fester. Pinching the wound with his left hand, he brought the two ends of the cut together and proceeded to bring the fishing hook down into the flesh of the wound. But he stopped. Lucas let out a breath after observing Mark’s movements so intently. Mark’s breath hitched. “I can’t do this. I need you to do it.”
“What?” Lucas said, alarmed. “I can’t I don’t know how!” Lucas backed away defensively and frightened, holding his two hands up in the air. Mark’s doe eyes glistened as he pleaded with Lucas.
“Please,” Mark said, almost whispering. “I can’t.” Lucas released another breath and looked at Mark in the eyes. Fine. He took the hook and line from Mark’s trembling hands. His hands… They were… Soft and fragile. It served as a complete contrast to the harshness and desolation of this world that they now lived in. “Okay. So, you’re going to have to bring the two ends of the wound together. And then insert the hook into one side, bringing it out the other and you’re going to loop it around and repeat until the entirety of the wound it brought together and we can tie it off.” Lucas’s breath shuddered. “Hey, look at me.” Lucas looked at the person he had just met but felt like he was growing closer and closer to by the second. “Thank you.” Lucas nodded. You’re welcome.
Lucas did as he was instructed, bringing the hook into Mark’s wound and looping the knots around in order to seal the wound. Lucas could not, however, stand Mark’s cries of pain as he tried his absolute best to keep from abandoning the task at hand.
__________
Salvaging for supplies was how Lucas survived the apocalypse in addition to his daily routine of checking his traps, fishing, and watching movies. The salvaging experience was slowly turning into a scavenging hustle and often proved to be fruitless for Lucas in his endeavors to find what was considered the basic necessities of life – toilet paper, toothpaste, toothbrushes, blankets, pillows, et cetera.
As he held securely on his backpack straps, tightening his grip every time his wound would send a surge of pain throughout his entire body, Mark trotted closely behind his newly made friend. It had been two days since he had asked Lucas for his help, and he wanted to repay him for assisting him in looking for supplies. They approached the trusty gas station that Lucas had always gone to restock his cabin with all the luxuries needed for “survival.” That word, too, became arbitrary. What is survival? Is getting by on mere scraps even considered survival? Or did having a set purpose and goal in this apocalyptic world and trudging ever so slowly toward that aspiration deem fit for being called survival.
“How did you even find this place?” Mark asked Lucas. Lucas looked back with a grin and turned around giddily, walking backward.
“I just did,” Lucas answered. “On one of my searches, I think. I kind of forget things. All my mind really focuses on nowadays are the things happening right now.” Mark blinked at him, still following at the casual pace that they were walking at. “Does that sound weird?”
“No… It doesn’t,” Mark clarified. “I relate to that a lot.” Lucas gave Mark a grin and turned back around, ensuring his destination to the gas station was clear and direct.
The interior of the gas station was much like any standard gas station with aisles of the necessities of life. It seemed like a gift from above that this gas station had barely even been looted. It seems like Lucas was the only person coming back here, with only a few shelves exhausted of its items and belongings.
“Grab what you need,” Lucas said, loud enough for Mark to hear from across the gas station. Mark looked at the medical supplies on one of the shelves and went back to the front of the establishment to grab and shopping basket. As he briskly walked back to the shelf of medical supplies, passing Lucas who was putting toilet paper into his backpack, Lucas gave him a strange look. Mark filled the basket with all of the medical supplies – gauzes, alcohol, bandages, ice packs, first aid kits. He walked to the front of the store and put the medical supplies back on one of the empty shelves in the front.
“What are you doing?” Lucas asked with a confused expression on his face. Mark continued to organize the front shelf with the life-saving supplies.
“People might come here. And they might be injured. And they need to be able to find these supplies quickly,” Mark explained. “Just in case. Time is everyone’s biggest enemy right now.”
“You sound like you know what you’re talking about. With all this medical stuff. With the stitches a few days ago,” Lucas said. Mark looked at him, his hands now in his pockets. “You a nurse?”
“My mom is. Was,” Mark answered. He huffed out a sad laugh. “Everything becomes a was nowadays.” Lucas’s eyebrows furrowed, wanting to know more to Mark’s story and his family. However, he didn’t want to overstep and make Mark uncomfortable. He let the thought pass and decided to stay silent. “I got everything I needed by the way. You?”
“Yeah,” Lucas said, holding a candy bar in his left hand. “We need to write down what we took from the gas station.” He walked up to the front counter with the cash register. Mark noticed the clipboard resting on its surface. Mark observed intently as Lucas wrote his name down on the fraying piece of paper. Lucas Wong.
“Wong,” Mark said. Lucas nodded yes.
“Yep, that’s my last name,” Lucas said. Mark’s eyes glistened as he looked into Lucas’s.
“I’m glad you can remember that about yourself. It’s hard to remember who we are in this mess,” Mark said. Lucas wanted to give him a hug and tell him he wanted to remember all of this. He didn’t want to forget.
He didn’t want to forget.
__________
The movie for the night was one about five completely different students being locked in a school library because they were given detention over the weekend. Lucas loved this movie and he almost memorized every line. He had a list of movies that he wanted to watch, be always ended up going back to his favorites.
It had been close to two weeks now and Mark had watched a lot of movies with Lucas within that time frame. However, Mark was quite tired that night and his wound was giving him a headache. So, Mark went to bed and tried to drift off into sleep. But Lucas’s movie was a bit loud, so he got out of his bed and joined Lucas on the couch. Lucas’s eyes filled with guilt as he realized what he had done.
“Oh my god,” Lucas said. “Was I playing the movie too loud?” Mark shook his head no and proceeded to watch the movie with Lucas.
“I love this movie,” Mark said. Lucas grinned and offered Mark a piece of the candy bar he had taken from the gas station. Mark accepted his offer and popped the piece of chocolatey goodness into his mouth. Mark closed his eyes, savoring the taste. “I haven’t had one of those in forever.”
“Here,” Lucas said, handing Mark the entire bar. Mark looked at him in alarm.
“No, it’s yours,” Mark said, holding both of his hands up in the air. Lucas shook his head, insisting that take the candy bar.
“I have more of that in the pantry,” Lucas said. “Take it.” Mark slowly brought his hand out and took the candy bar. As he munched on it, Lucas observed him endearingly, watching his doe-like eyes watch the movie and sparkle as it reflected the light being emitted from the screen, watching his cheeks puff out as he ate the chocolate covered candy bar eagerly, watching his eyebrows furrow in reaction to the taste of the candy bar and the events of the movie. Mark suddenly looked at Lucas and Lucas quickly diverted his attention to the screen. Mark grinned but didn’t bring up how he saw what Lucas was doing in his peripheral vision. The two of them continued to watch the movie, sitting inches apart – the closest to a person Lucas had been in… Lucas noticed that he had lost track of time. But being next to Mark made all of that meaningless. Because he found meaning.
Mark gave him meaning.
__________
His faint snoring made Mark look over to him. Lucas’s mouth was open slightly and his heavy breathing was steady and consistent. This seemed to have been his first time to fall asleep so soundly. Mark continued to look at Lucas, analyzing his features, the way his jawline curved from sharp to soft, the way his lips protruded like a pouty baby’s, the way his eyebrows were arched, as if he was fully immersed in the dream he was currently having. Mark shuffled in his seat and this woke Lucas.
Lucas’s eyes fluttered open and he saw Mark looking at him. His sleepiness caused him to remain silent and he just looked back at Mark, right into his eyes – his eyes that were full of tears. Tears that flowed out of his eyelids and onto his cheeks. Sad tears that Lucas recognized all too well.
“I lost my best friend,” Mark whispered. “He was… bit. And I couldn’t do anything about it.” Lucas didn’t know what to do or say so he just stayed quiet and listened to Mark. “I lost him.” Mark sobbed. “I lost him.”
Lucas watched Mark as he made his way back to the bed and went to sleep.
__________
A month had passed and when Mark checked his wound, it had healed, and the stitches were ready to be taken out. Lucas helped him with the removal and Mark was grateful to have someone as gentle as Lucas.
“Now that you’re all healed up,” Lucas said, “I want to teach you how to set up traps for finding food.” Mark’s heart ached and he was so appreciative of Lucas.
“Lucas,” Mark said softly. “Thank you for helping me.” Lucas suddenly took Mark into his embrace. They stayed there, attached, for a few seconds and Mark listened to how Lucas’s heartbeat steadily quickened.
“Of course, I would help you,” Lucas said. “Why wouldn’t I?” Mark released himself from the hug. He gave Lucas a look of caution.
“What if I was hostile?” Mark asked, crossing his arms. Lucas held Mark’s shoulders with both hands.
“You weren’t, though,” Lucas said. “I-“
“Lucas, you know I have to leave,” Mark suddenly brought up. Lucas’s heart dropped into his stomach. “You know that, right?” Lucas could now hear his pulse in his eardrums. He counted them. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6…
“Of course. Right. You’re right,” Lucas said. Lucas didn’t want his eyes to well up with tears, but they did anyway. “Do you have to, though?”
“I have to,” Mark reasoned. “I… have t-“
“No, you don’t! You don’t have to, Mark!” Lucas yelled, getting up from his seat. Mark was taken by surprise from Lucas’s sudden burst of rage. Lucas knew that this was going to happen. He was waiting for it to happen. He was waiting. He just didn’t want to believe any of it true. “Why?” There was that question again. The question that made Lucas fall head first into his own pit of sadness, and distress, and confusion, and irritation, and rage. “Why? Mark answer me!”
“Lucas! Please! I just…” Mark began to sob. “I have to be alone. I don’t deserve other people, okay!” Mark had gotten up to his seat to face his friend, to equalize the battleground, to level the playing field. Lucas towered over Mark. But Mark didn’t care. He looked him straight in his eyes. “Lucas… Please.”
“Mark,” Lucas said in a hushed and contrastively gentle tone. “I love you.” Mark stared at Lucas whose features had now softened and his eyes had now pooled with silver, glimmering from the moonlight that shone through the cabin window.
“Lucas,” Mark said. That’s all Mark could say. With so many thoughts and ideas and words racing through his skull as he endured this apocalyptic world, as he fought to dead, as he suffered loss. That’s all Mark could say.
“I love you, Mark,” Lucas continued. “And I need you alive. I need you alive.” Lucas’s tears poured down his face. He couldn’t fight them. “I need you alive! I need you alive!” Lucas screamed and ran outside of the cabin and yelled into the forest.
“Lucas!” Mark said, chasing after him. Lucas was now on the foot of the stairs of his porch, kneeling and looking up at the night sky and all of its stars. Indigo with silver scattered across its canvas.
“I need you alive,” Lucas said without looking at Mark. “If you want to be alone, I’ll leave. You stay. Because I need you alive. You make this dead world feel alive, again.” Mark was now standing in front of Lucas. Those words used Mark’s heart as target practice and stuck him at his very core. Mark took Lucas into his arms and kissed him. He kissed him underneath all those stars.
All the stars that looked over them, twinkling and never sputtering out.
__________
Lucas woke up the next morning. He had fallen asleep next to Mark who he had spooned and held and embraced throughout the night. But he woke up to a cold bed. An empty bed. The fire in Lucas’s heart was doused and cold came across his entire body. His bed was empty. And his heart was empty. He loved him. And he had left. He needed to leave. Lucas looked up at his ceiling as he always did. He wasn’t angry at Mark. He didn’t know how to feel but he definitely was not angry with him.
Lucas got up. He didn’t want to believe it. But Mark’s backpack was gone. His shoes were gone. He was gone.
Lucas walked over to the dining table and noticed that a piece of paper was sticking out from the side of his journal. He took the piece of paper out of the notebook, the crisp sound of the paper crinkling the first thing he had heard this morning.
And on the piece of paper were four words that made the dead coals of Lucas’s heart kindle and glow red with warmth.
I love you, too.