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It’s already been three weeks after the police announced Andres’ death, and Martin has been drinking endlessly. He has distanced himself from society, and only came out occasionally to buy more alcohol and, sometimes, pills.
Today, Martin feels exceptionally awful. He has been thinking about Andres. Truthfully, he is always thinking about Andres, but the alcohol helped him to forget and numb the pain. But today, nothing can pull him out of the rut he dug himself into.
Andres was the only thing he had. Andres was his everything. The first one who looked at him with such interest and adoration, who listened closely to everything he had to say, who made him overcome his fears, and try something new. Andres, his first and last love.
Martin’s mind drifts, thinking about the time the both of them first met.
He was at a bar, young and burnt out. That night, he just wanted to pass out because his thesis was stressing him out. He was already at his third drink, when someone sat beside him. He looked over and he saw a beautiful and fancy man, sitting beside him, staring. He had never seen this man before, and he was so struck about the way the light framed his face.
“Rough day?” The man said, smiling, eyes scanning Martin’s face carefully. Nobody ever looked at him like that. “Hello... anybody home?”
Finally, Martin snapped back to his senses. He broke eye contact and looked down on his glass. “Yeah, I suppose.” He answered with a sigh.
“You come here often?” He was looking at him with such intensity.
“Y-Yeah... it’s k-kind of close to my dorm, so…” Martin felt his heart beating out of his chest.
“Oh! You’re a college student?”
“Si. I’m doing my thesis now,” Martin replied, shaking his head lightly.
“It mustn’t be easy, then? Anyway, I’m Andres” the man, well Andres, said as he held out his hand for a handshake. Martin returned the handshake and said, “Martin,” a smile on his face.
After that, they talked some more, as if they knew each other their entire lives. The sweetness of that memory and also the bitterness that he feels when he remember that Andres stirs unwanted emotions in his chest.
Martin then remembers the pills he bought two days earlier. Disgruntled, he drags his drunk ass to the bathroom, almost falling to the floor twice. He opens the medicine cabinet and pushes away empty bottles to find a half-consumed one on the top shelf. Martin grabs it, but turn the cap.
While staring at it, his mind runs wild.
This is the only way I could meet Andres.
His hands shake, fingers vibrating.
Am I really going to do this? I can’t live like this anymore…
Martin’s eyes start to sting.
What is the point of living if Andres is not with me?
He empties the bottle, the ghost-white pills landing on his shaky palm. All he can think about is Andres, and how he misses him so much that it hurts. Everything is awful without his Andres. All he’s ever wanted is Andres, not even as a lover but as a friend. Martin needs him. He can’t live without his other half.
Martin downs the drugs into his mouth and swallows, using the water from the faucet to push it down. When he’s finished, he closes the medicine cabinet and comes face to face with himself. His skin is pale and patchy, eyes empty and lifeless. He looks awful, but it doesn’t matter.
Suddenly he remembers the first time Andres ever took him clothes shopping. Martin knew nothing about fashion; all his life, he’d relied on his skinny jeans, one t-shirt, and leather jackets. When Andres had found his closet, he immediately dragged the blue-eyed man into the fanciest shops in Spain. They spent the afternoon going from store to store, Andres watching him intensely, eyes slithering all over Martin’s body as he dressed him up.
A sudden pain in his chest interrupts the beautiful memory. The shock and hurt that overtakes his entire body makes him fall on the cold bathroom floor with a loud thump. He could feel the rapidness of his heartbeat, his breathing labored. Martin’s hands fly to his throat, trying to breathe, but it’s becoming more difficult. His breathing then slows, his body growing weaker by the moment. Martin’s vision starts to blur, until he loses consciousness.
+
When Martin wakes up, his body aches and his head is throbbing mad. He slowly opens his eyes, but can barely see anything. He blinks a couple of times and looks around. All he can see is the brightness of the white of the room, the smell of ethyl alcohol and sickness. His eyes land on the IV connected to his skin, and he realizes what has happened. But only barely.
Not long after he woke up, a nurse comes in. Seeing him already awake, she begins to check on him, standard medical procedure. She hands him his water and asks gently if he has anyone to call.
Martin shakes his head, and she looks at him as if he’s the most miserable person in the world. The sad thing is, maybe she’s right.
“Uh,” his throat is still hoarse. “Who brought me here?”
“A lady, probably in her mid 50’s,”
“Oh.” Gloria, he thinks, his landlady.
“Do you want us to call her?”
“No, no it’s fine.”
“Okay.” She gives him a look of pity. “If you need anything, you can just press that button for staff calls.”
“Gracias.”
Martin doesn’t want to be in the hospital. So, within a day, he removes his IV’s and sneaks out of the building. Nobody pays attention to him; all the staff attending to people who need and actually deserve their help.
He arrives at his apartment building and immedietly locks himself in his room. He walks to the refrigerator, opens it, and take a bottle of cold beer. Martin takes his drink to the bedroom. He throws himself to the bed and stares at the ceiling, thinking about what happened, and erupts into sobs.
Martin drinks until he falls asleep.
+
The three of them are having dinner – him, Andres, and Sergio. The bespectacled man talks endlessly about his Royal Mint plan over the table, his brain running in full gear. Martin doesn’t mind; this sort of things interest him too. However, he can’t help but turn to look at Andres, stealing glances at the man when he isn’t looking.
After dinner, Sergio goes up to his quarters. Andres, however, calls Martin to talk in his room privately. When Martin follows, Andres closes the door behind him.
“Martin, why do you keep looking at me?” Andres asks, without missing a beat.
“Wha-What? No, I don’t,” Martin blurts out, internally panicking.
“Oh, come on, hermanito. Don’t play dumb,” Andres says, crossing his arms and walking closer. “I felt you staring. You know you can’t lie to me.”
Martin tries to look everywhere except at his friend. “Well, am I not allowed to look at you?”
“I’m just asking.” Andres keeps walking closer. “Why do you always look at me like that, Martin?” When he’s a few inches in front of him, he whispers, “Look at me while I’m talking, por favor.”
When Martin looks up, their eyes meet. The dark-haired man is smirking at him.
“Well?” he raises an eyebrow.
Without thinking, Martin grabs Andres’ face and kisses him. He doesn’t know where he gets the courage, but his body is vibrating happily as their lips collide. After a moment, he realizes what he’s done, and pulls away. But to his surprise, Andres only smiles at him, and kisses him with such intense passion that it makes his head spin.
+
He wakes up and looks around. It’s just a dream, he thought. Martin closes his eyes and feels his throat constrict as tears start to fall from his eyes again. Everything is just too much. He can’t handle all the emotions pouring out of his chest.
When he’s finished crying, eyes still red and face tired, he rummages his drawers for a pen and paper. Because that’s what people do isn’t it? They leave notes. He doesn’t know who will read it, but it doesn’t matter.
He will write it for Andres.
Dear mi amor,
I’m so sorry I have to do this but I can’t help it, mi amor. Life is just too hard without you. You were the one who taught me about everything that was good about the world. I tried to forget you, I did, but drinking just doesn’t work.
Why did you leave me? How could you be so selfish? I cannot live without you, and you knew that when you went to the Mint. I’ve tried to end it once, but I failed. I’m such a failure, I can’t even kill myself properly.
I miss you so bad, mi amor. Everything reminds me of you. Living is torture. I never had anyone else in this damned world besides you, and you left me. This is the only way we can be together again. The only way I know to meet you again. I love you. I wish I had the courage to tell you that when you were alive.
Wait for me, mi amor. I’m coming home.
Yours forever,
Martin
The paper becomes wetter by the second, Martin’s tears flowing towards it and blotching the ink. After he finishes, he places the note on his bedside table. He drags his feet to the bathroom and takes a new bottle of pills. He doesn’t even counts the amount of pills he’s consuming as he walks back to his bedroom.
On one corner of the room, he spots Andres’ dressing gown – the only he thing he has of the love of his life. It calls to him in the same ways Andres did. With the gold patterns on its fabric. And in it he finds a small bit of inspiration. He puts his Andres’ robe over his shoulders before lying down on his bed.
Martin is tired. He has been for too long now.
He closes his eyes. This time, he make sure nobody can help him. He will make sure it’s the perfect and final attempt.
I wish breathing didn’t hurt this much. We’re going to meet again, Andres.
Martin takes his final breath.
Wait for me, mi amor.