Archive of Our Own

I followed the rough cobblestone pathway, worn down by those that had walked there before me. The air still felt crisp against my rosy cheeks, smelling faintly of rain from the horrid storm the previous night. As a chilling gust of wind passed by me I tucked my hand away in the warmth of my coat pockets. Wearing a murky grey similar to the puddles in the area, the clouds coated the sky, not letting an inch of sun cut through. In total, it was cold, wet, and grey. 

Truly dreadful weather, even for England. But nonetheless, I kept going. I’m not sure why. In reality all I wanted to do was turn away and head back to the safety home provided. Yet there was something stopping me. Telling me that this was where I needed to be. Like some sort of invisible string constantly tugging me in the right direction, despite my protests. 

As I strayed from the path, now through the damp unkempt grass, I idly passed by numerous wilted flowers and moss draped stone. It didn’t take me long to find where the string was leading me. Unfortunately I had already visited this dreaded place before. Without warning, the air left my lungs as I stood frozen in front of him. 

Michael Hayes 
2003-2023
Beloved son, friend and partner.
In our hearts, forever xx

With dry, parted lips my eyes wandered over the engraved stone.
It was really him. 
I felt my whole body grow stiff, as I tried to suck in a deep breath through clenched teeth. The realisation had rendered me motionless. But why? I knew it was coming. We both knew something like this could happen one day. Michael told me about his heart condition when we first met, how he was always walking the line between life and death. If he ever got too excited or too scared or too stressed he could drop dead. Just like that.

 We even had some close calls together. Like the time he had a panic attack before coming out to his parents, triggering a heart attack. One of many. But he was always fine after. He had this magical power of still looking angelic under fluorescent lights and in dinghy hospital gowns. 

He was always fine after.

Yet, as I stood in front of his grave as still as a statue I knew I couldn’t deny it. Whatever hope I had had left was abruptly snuffed out like a burnt candle. I wouldn’t be waking up to find him laying in bed next to me, his arms comfortingly huddled around me. 
He was gone. 

My fists clenched at my sides as I tried to control the uncomfortable tightening of my chest. “Hey Michael.” I managed to pathetically croak out. Sitting in front of his headstone, I ran my fingers through the cooling blades of grass, slowly bringing myself back to the present. I didn’t come here to cry. I came to see him. I couldn’t let myself fall apart so soon.

“Sorry it took me so long to visit.” I said as casually as I could. It had been a month since he passed. Since his funeral I had been trying my best to burn away my energy with anything I could find. Mostly school and work, reorganising the cans and spices for the hundredth time. For the most part, that had been working. Because when I was busy, I wasn’t thinking and if I wasn’t thinking, I couldn’t think about him. What else could I do?

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a small rock on which I had painted a black blob in the shape of a cat. He looked like he'd seen better days but I was the best I could do, given the situation. Michael always loved little pebbles and rocks. He was the kind of person that stopped whatever he was doing, filled his pockets and brought them home just because they were smooth or shiny or a cool shape.

“I know it doesn’t look great but in my defence you weren’t there to help me.” I laughed, even though I didn’t find it funny. Not even a little bit. “Always the artist.” Placing the wonky looking stone in front of me, I forced my lips to curl into a little smile. “I thought you would like it more than flowers.”

Unconsciously, I found myself fiddling with the chain that hung around my neck. A golden locket with an engraving of a bumble bee etched into the metal, a treasured gift from Michael. I always found a certain comfort in it. He knew I had an undying love of bees. He’d tell me that bees were a symbol of protection and that this would keep me safe, even if he wasn’t there. Though, he had a habit of handing out random facts and beliefs like sweets, so I couldn’t be too sure if that was true. But the thought gave me soulace. Even if it was just for a second.

“Well,” My fingers danced against the dirt, making a muffled tap as I tried to find something else to say. “Your family’s doing alright, if you were wondering.” I paused, as if I was expecting him to answer but there's nothing. Only silence. Thick, dense, lung-crushing silence. 

“So,” Desperately, I tried to fill the air with words, fearing what I would have to face if the silence stayed any longer. “D-do you have wings now or something like that?” I said, my voice trembling not unlike a lost child. My throat unbearably dry, vision beginning to blur with a watery distortion. My calm facade was crumbling. “I-I’m not too sure how the whole afterlife thing works.” I cracked out a pitiful little laugh despite my sorrowful tone.

I couldn’t stand it. 

The silence surrounded me like a deep dark fog I had no hopes of escaping from. Grasping my locket in a tightly clenched fist I let out a deep breath I had only just realised I was holding. As the crisp cloud of mist dissipated away I watched until all there was left behind were the cursive letters carved into the stone. Michael Hayes, I read.

Michael Hayes.
Michael Hayes.
Michael Hayes.
Michael Hayes.
Michael Hayes.

I cleared my throat, just about ready to get up and abandon this missadventure when from behind me I heard the loud clap of heels against stone. 

“Hey there Charles, sorry it took me so long to get down here traffic was a bloody nightma- Oh hello .” An unfamiliar voice said with a uniquely thick English accent. I whipped my head around to find a wrinkled old woman. She was short, slightly hunched over and dressed in many layers of bright knitted clothing, as well as round silver plated glasses. In one hand she held a bouquet of red tulips and a leather handbag in the other. She sent a welcoming grin that almost lit up the area around her with an angelic glow. 

“Sorry love, I didn’t think anyone would still be here. Suppose you could call this place a bit of a ghost town.” She giggled at her own joke. Trying my best to push away the sudden spike of social anxiety, I rushed to think of a reply.

“No, no. It’s fine.” I waved my hand dismissively, discreetly looking away to dry my eyes before she noticed. Taking in a cleansing breath I got to my feet and said, “I was just about to leave anyway.” I shot her my best faux smile, but judging by the way she cocked her head to the side she wasn’t believing any of it. 

“You doin’ alright?” She inquired. Hastily, I nodded. 

“Yep, I’m fine.” Probably one of the biggest lies I have ever told. The woman turned to face the grave of a man buried next to Michael, Charlie McKinney. But I took no notice of her, starting to walk off with my chilled hands in my pockets. After that, I was going to need a drink, or five.

“Excuse me!” The woman yelled for my attention. “D’you mind having a sit with me?” She asked politely with a gesture towards a nearby bench. “It’d be nice to have some company for once.” She added with that same angelic grin as before. For a short moment, I had an internal debate with myself over whether or not I should just call it a day. End this morbid escapade here. But, there it was again. 
A tug from that string.

It was a challenge to describe but I could feel it. This distant, lingering feeling of something telling me to stay. Reminiscent of the same one that brought me here in the first place.

“Sure,” I agreed, walking back towards her, she held out her hand. An invitation for me to shake it.

“I’m Lidia , this is my other half, Charlie.” She pointed towards his headstone.

“Thomas, this is Michael.” Her expression fell upon hearing my words before she pressed a hand to her heart. 

“Michael Hayes?” My head cocked to the side in a puzzled manner. 

“Erm…yes, did you know him?” With parted lips she looked away as she processed the information.

“Yes, he used to live next door to me. Such a sweet boy. He helped me with my garden.” She said with a bittersweet smile. “Oh, I had no idea he passed”

“Yeah,” I looked away, bringing up my hand to play with the chain of my locket. “He had a heart attack last month.” She pressed her lipstick-painted lips into a thin line. After a quick pause her head darts up to me with a look of realisation in her face.

“Oh, you're his boyfriend aren’t you? Tommy.” She said with a grin. “Aw, he used to talk about you all the time.” Without hesitation she wrapped her arms around me, trapping me in a tight hug that smelt a lot like mothballs and digestive biscuits. I let out a sound somewhere between annoyance and a wince. “You alright love?” She pulled away from me. 

“No, it’s fine. I’m sorry. Only Michael ever called me that. It's a bit weird when other people call me Tommy.”

“Ah, I understand.” She nodded, followed by a gesture towards the worn down old bench. “Come on then, let's have a sit, Thomas.” She said in such a delightful tone that made her words sound like honey. We sat on the bench, the wet wood sent an icy chill through me. Together, we gazed at our loved ones as autumn leaves rustled passed our feet. “Do you come here often?”

“No, it's my first time.” I cleared my throat. “And you?” I inquired for the sake of social decency. 

“Oh I come down here all the time. Wouldn’t want him to get lonely now would I?” 

“I’m sure Michael can keep him company.” Lidia lets out a bubbly chuckle in response.

“He seems nice doesn’t he, Charles?” She turned towards her husband's grave, talking as if he were standing right next to us.

“Does he agree?” I asked out of curiosity. 

“Of course he does. He’s never disagreed with me.” She said in a matter of fact tone. “Not in fifty-three years.” She added. A reminiscent smile finding its way to her lips. 

Looking down at my intertwined hands I mumbled, “I didn’t get that long.” I said with a slight melancholy tone. She lent in closer to me.

“At least you had him in your life while you could. I’m sure he was a lovely boyfriend.” She said sweetly. 

I shifted my gaze towards my still slightly shaky hands. It felt odd, calling him my boyfriend. As if the name didn’t do him justice. He was so much more than just my boyfriend.

He had this way of making me feel as if I was the only person that mattered. My best friend since primary school. My only friend really. Surprise surprise, nobody wanted to be friends with the little boy playing with the bugs. But he did. As we chased butterflies and poked at worms with giddy giggles, we became inseparable. I don’t know what it was but there was something about him that instantly drew me in. Like his beautiful, unwavering smile. He was so happy in a way I couldn’t understand. How could he stay so amazingly positive despite what life threw at him? Even now, I don’t really understand. But I didn’t have to. When I was with him, everything was okay. I was safe.

He was my everything. My first crush, my first kiss, my first boyfriend and…If we had the time, I would have made him my husband. 

But I suppose fate had other plans.

“How’ve you been dealing with it?” The sound of her voice beside me managed to bring me back to reality. Clearing my throat, I rushed to gather my thoughts.

“I-I erm, I dunno.” I shrugged my shoulders. “I’ve been alright, I guess.” I said in a somewhat meek manner. Pressing her lips into a thin line, she looked over to me with a disbelieving expression. I couldn’t help but nervously look away as I fiddled with the locket around my neck, I searched for the comfort I knew.

“I’m sorry love, I don’t mean to be nosey. It’s just that…Well I understand what it’s like.” She sighed. “After Charlie passed I was a bloody mess. Couldn’t sleep or eat, hardly ever left the house.” I discreetly bit at my already splintered nails, her words sounding more familiar than I wanted to admit. 

She pressed a hand against her heart. “We spent fifty-three, beautiful , years together. Even now, not a day goes by where I don’t miss him.” She placed emphasis on the word beautiful before gently nudging me in my side. “But, you see, I got lucky. I had someone that made those years a lot easier for me.” A small smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she lovingly gazed at her husband's grave through her round silver-plated glasses. “Someone I could talk to.” She said, her voice now softer. She blinked, trying to get back to her point. “My point is, a little chat never hurt anybody.” With a calming grin she turned to face me, her eyebrows lifted ever so slightly.

I looked down at my intertwined hands, trying my best to avoid her watchful eyes. “It’s been a bit rough.” I replied, purposely leaving some holes in my story. I didn’t want to burden her with my grief. Like how I hadn’t slept in our bedroom since. The idea of ruining the last few things Michael touched made my skin crawl. Instead, I spent my nights staring at the blank living room ceiling waiting for the hours to pass me by. I couldn’t remember a time I fell asleep without him by my side. I knew I had done it, I just…I couldn’t remember.

“I’ve been trying to keep myself busy.” I ran my thumb over the engraved bee.

“Good, that's good.” 

“Yeah,” I mumbled weakly. Looking up towards his headstone I inspected the cursive stone letters until they were burnt into my mind.
In our hearts, forever xx  
“I really miss him.” I added. “We always knew something like this would happen but-” The large lump in my throat cut off my speech. “But I never thought-”. My voice quivered and cracked as I could no longer hide the mounds of heartbreak I had tried so hard to hold back. I brought my trembling hands to my face, my eyes now wet with hot tears. 

“Aw dear,” She said sympathetically, reaching into her purse to hand me a very crumpled tissue. “I’m sorry love, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” I felt my face burn with humiliation as I wiped my eyes dry. 

“No no, I’m sorry. I-I didn’t think I would get like that.” I chuckled lightly, a poor attempt to undercut the intense awkwardness I felt. She gave me a reassuring smile, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“Oh, don’t you apologise. Everyone needs a good cry every now and then.” Not me, I thought to myself as my knee rapidly bounced. There was nothing on Earth I hated more than crying in front of somebody. It was a type of vulnerability that made my skin itch. Like cicadas buzzing underneath my veins. 

“How do you do it?” I said, without really thinking. 

“Do what?”

“ This ” I said, a heavy weight of emotional exhaustion laying on my shoulders. I looked towards the patch of half-grown grass on Michael's grave. “I know it's supposed to be therapeutic and all that but I-I can’t.” I stuttered and stumbled over my words. “I can’t talk to him as if he’s here because he’s…not.” Slouching back against the bench, a drawn out sigh escaped me. The drab, colourless clouds hung low in the sky above me, I watched as they passed. “God I wish he was here.” I breathed, my hands folded in a disorderly manner. There was nothing I wanted more than to hear his voice, his precious words that never failed to reassure me. Just to know he’s okay, if he’s happy. Wherever he is now. If people were right when they said, He’s in a better place now.

What I wouldn’t give to see him again.

I was broken from my train of thought by a gentle tap on my shoulder. I sat up straight. For a moment I had forgotten where I was. “Do you know how I’ve survived for so long without Charlie?” She wore a knowing grin that made her eyes wrinkle in the corners. Then she proceeded to pull a small glass bottle from her purse and hand it to me without even a word. Carefully, I inspected the clear water-like liquid, swirling it around so it formed a miniature whirlpool. I looked up at her, expecting some sort of explanation but she still wore that unwavering grin. 

I sat there, my body stiffening with immense confusion and awkwardness and did the only thing I thought was logical. I uncorked the bottle and tried to drink it, assuming it was one of those mini bottles of vodka. Lidia  immediately smacked my cheek.

“Oi! What do you think you’re doing?” She shrieked as she snatched the bottle from me. There was a slight sting on my face where her hand met my face. “Christ, do you have no impulse control?” She said as she placed the cork back on the bottle.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know what else to do!” I said defensively, holding up my hands to show my palms. She rolled her eyes and tried to get up from her seat. Though due to her being almost ninety she greatly struggled, grunting as she did so. 

“Help me up will ya darling?” 

“Oh, right. Of course.” I rushed to pull her up. She was a bit shorter than me so she had to look up to meet my eyes.

“I loved Michael. He was a good boy, and clearly so are you.” She spoke with a smile “So I want to give you this. Now you have to listen to me here.” She opened my palm and carefully placed the bottle in my hand. “When Charlie passed, this was the only thing that kept me sane. This is all I’ve got left” 

“What is it?” I asked with a crease between my eyebrows. She chuckled in response. 

“Lord, if I told you, you’d think I was mental.” She closes my palm with the bottle inside. “I’m gonna go down the road to that little cafe. D’you know the one I’m talking about?” I nodded. “Good. Now when I leave I want you to pour that over your boyfriend's grave, you two have a good chat then come see me in the cafe. I’ll buy you a cup of tea.” She said in the most quintessentially English way imaginable. Without so much as a goodbye, she patted my hand and began to walk off, her heels clapping against the cobblestone.

And then there was me. Standing there. Alone. With a glass bottle of…something in my hand. Running a hand through my hair I stared down at the bottle, watching as the liquid spun in a perfect spiral. This was crazy, wasn’t it? Was I really going to listen to a ninety year old woman I had just met that gave me a bottle of mystery liquid?

Yes. Yes I was.

“This is what I’ve come to.” I mumbled to myself as I uncorked the bottle with a satisfying pop. As I stood in front of Michael's grave I let out a long sigh. “Well…Cheers.” I held up my hand as if proposing a toast before pouring it over him.

…

Nothing. 

Nothing happened. I didn’t know what I was expecting. Massaging the bridge of my nose, I let out a long, heavy sigh, looking down at the bottle. Throwing it to Michael's grave, it landed with a loud clank against the stone. “Goodbye Michael.” I whisper to myself, my chest tightening. Almost biting through my bottom lip, I turnt away and began to walk off with a heavy heart.

“Bye Tommy.”

In an instant, I was paralyzed. My hands trembled at my sides. Tommy. That name echoed in my mind. 

Only one person calls me that. 

“Micheal?” I muttered, my body not allowing me to stay anything louder. My heart hammered in my chest. My breathing became shallow, letting out quick and short breaths.

“Hi.” He said somewhat sheepishly.

“I’m going mad.” I said with a crack in my voice. My eyes widened as I accidentally stumbled back on my own feet. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. How was a man I had seen laying motionless in a hospital bed no less than a month ago, standing here like it was just an average Tuesday?

“Tommy pleas-” 

“No,” I cut him off with a noticeable tremor in my voice. “This month has been shitty enough as it is. I don’t need it to get any worse.” I massaged the bridge of my nose. “I-I have clearly taken some kind of drug or-or maybe I have a tumour. But you are not here. I’m going to go home, get tested for drugs and you can fuck right off.”

“Just liste-.” He tried to get a word in but it wasn’t enough to stop my senseless rambles.

“I should really get a CAT scan or-or that thing what do you call it? The tube thing they put you in y’know what I mean right? That thing that sucks you in like some kind of Sci-Fi fuckery.” The words fell out of my mouth before I even had a chance to think. 

“What are you saying?” 

“The tube thing that scans your brain!” 

“MRI?” He answered with his eyebrows knitted together in a mix of concern and confusion.

“Yes! That thing!”

“We’ve gotten really off topic.” 

“I know that Michael!” I yelled with panic while gesturing my arms haphazardly. My chest rose and fell rapidly. It couldn’t be him. It just couldn’t. I repeated in my mind. He wasn’t here, my mind was just playing a sick, grief-stricken trick on me. But no matter how hard I tried to pull away, I found myself gravitating towards him. Even if I was delusional, or a nutcase or a psych-ward patient waiting to happen, this was all I had longed for. He gently placed his hands on my shoulders, forcing me to meet his oceanic eyes.

“Tommy, you have to believe me. You’re not mental, I promise. There's no need for an MRI.” He spoke with a silk-like voice, chuckling a little when he mentioned the MRI. He was so close. His warmth radiating against me, the strength of his grip, I felt all of it. But the only could think off was how the actual fuck the man I saw buried beneath the ground was here.

“No, no. You-you’re just some weird hallucination.” I stuttered.

“I’m not.” I pointed a shaking finger at him, my breath still ragged with anxiety.

“You are.” I denied him. He slowly edged closer to me, his eyes never daring to leave mine in a way that made my head spin. 

“I’m not.” He said and before I could protest, he brought his lips to mine and my worries washed away like a slow drizzle.

The world fell silent as he placed a hand on my waist, his other entangled in my hair. Breathing in, he smelt cool and dry like fresh rain on grass. Or pine needles in the snow. I couldn’t believe it, but I could feel him. He was warm against me. I brought my hand to his jaw and ran my thumb over the small slash scar he got when he was eight, falling off his bike. He was slightly taller than me. Not very, but enough that I had to look up to kiss him. Despite his pale complexion, he still had those smooth rosy cheeks dotted with freckles. His inky black hair was twisted into loose magically perfect curls.
It was really him. 

We pulled away for air, panting slightly as we rested against each other's foreheads. He gave me a look of pure adoration and the restless cocktail of emotions I felt all calmed. 

“It's really you.” I said breathlessly against his lips. He closed his eyes and giggled gently.

“I told you so.” He brought his hand to my face, brushing his thumb over my cheek in a soothing motion. Leaning into his touch, my heart rate steadying with his familiar comfort. Though soon enough, my head shot back up. As much as I yearned to feel him by my side, even after all this time, I had too many questions I wouldn’t let go unanswered. 

“Michael, wait,” I looked up at him. “What the- are you- when-” I staggered and fumbled over my words. What was I supposed to ask first? What could I ask at all?

“Lidia gave you the potion, didn’t she?” My mouth hung ajar. 

“Ex-fucking-cuse me ?!” I said, my voice so high pitched I could very well have passed as a Banshee. Michael reflexively brought his hand to my mouth to keep me quiet.

“Let me explain.” He said, much calmer than I. 

“Why did you never tell me about this?” I was muffled behind his hand.

“Would you have believed me?” He raised his eyebrows. I rolled my eyes in response. He smiled.

“Alright then,” I pushed away his hand. “You wanna explain? Go ahead, tell me everything. I’m all ears.”

I saw as the muscles in his jaw shift as he ground his teeth. Something he always did to organise his thoughts. 

“Lidia, she told me about her husband when I was younger. She would always go really in depth over what they spoke about. I just thought she was just a bit crazy and was making up all these responses.” He explained, without even taking a breath. “One day she said she wanted to introduce him to me and I played along ‘cause I didn’t want to be rude. But then she pulled out-” He takes a moment to look for the bottle I had tossed to the ground. Holding it up with a large smile he said, “This, she pulled out this and he appeared in front of us. Just like that!” He snapped his fingers.

I stared at him like he had grown a third ear.

“She told me she got this from a river by her old house and it could do this . It lets you talk to the dead. That's how I’m here.” He gestured to himself. I swallow. The familiar feeling of loss began to rear its ugly head.

“So you’re here but, not really.” I said in a sullen tone. I brought a hand to his chest, nothing I hadn’t done before. While we were growing up, he would have me check his heartbeat to make sure he wasn’t going to pass out. Though looking back, I think that was more his secret way of flirting with me rather than a way to check if his heart was going haywire. But now, as I placed my hand on his chest, the tips of my fingers tingled with an unfamiliar feeling. Nothing. Just a hollow shell where something so special used to rest. 

“I’m sorry if I got your hopes up. I just…I had to see you. I want to know that you’re okay.” He spoke softly, holding his hand in mine. As comforting as it was, there was still a question burning in my mind.

He’s in a better place now.

Six words I had heard over and over since his passing. At the time I didn’t really believe it. Because how could such a thing be true? What place is better than home with the people that love him? But as I looked up at him, with a big smile on his face I just had to know. Even if the answer would hurt.

“Are you happy?” His expression shifted slightly. “Like, wherever you are, whatever’s going on over there, I want to know. Are you happy?” I repeated. He tilted his head slightly with a look of adoration.

“I am.” He pressed a hand to his heart, or rather where it used to be. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.” He chuckled in a light, gleeful way. “Tommy, nothing! Nothing hurts anymore!” He said, in a specific, glowing tone. 

“I’m not on edge all the time! I can run, I-I can have as many panic attacks I want and not have to worry that I’m going to drop dead.” He grinned so wide the corners of his eyes wrinkled. “I mean, I don’t have panic attacks, of course. But you know, it’s nice to know I have the option.” I laughed and I, as happily as I could, laughed with him but there was still a part of me that ached upon hearing those words.

I was happy for him. Of course I was. What kind of monster would I be if I wasn’t? I didn’t want him to be miserable. I wanted him to be happy. I was so, so, so happy that he was happy without me.

I was so happy that he got to move on to a better place while I was still here. It was great that I was stuck in an empty flat we were supposed to share. That I was the one that had to find a way to cope and move on from the one person I’ve loved since I was seven. I had to navigate a life we planned to spend together without him. I was so fucking glad that his pain had ended so that mine could begin, because I couldn’t see a happy life in my future if Michael wasn’t in it.

“I’m really happy for you.” My lips were forced to bend into a grin. Though judging by the way he looked me up and down, he wasn’t buying it. 

“Are you?” His words curled up at the end in uncertainty.

“Yes.” I quickly responded.

“ Tommy .” He said in that tone. The one that said more than a thousand words could. He held my hands a little tighter, I started to notice he felt colder than before. “We don’t have much time left, please don’t lie to me.” I let out a sigh, running a shaky hand through my hair.

“This isn’t fair.” I looked away from him with an undeniable unsteadiness in my voice. “I know you didn’t choose…this, you didn’t want to, but I’m the one that's going to be left alone.” A strong wind pushed into us, making me wobble but he stood still, like a photograph. “You got to move on and be happy but I’m stuck here in this fucking town all by myself!” I raised my raw voice with a frustration I didn’t know I possessed. The wind swiftly blew my hair to the front of my face with a force I couldn’t control. 

“I know, I know, but…you won't be alone. You’ve got your friends, your sister with you.” He tried to reassure me, but it was futile. “They can help.”

“They’re not you.” I said with unyielding truth in every word. “Michael it-its you .” There's a beat. I stared at him dead in his deep blue eyes. 

“What will I do without you?”

Now, I was fully aware of the weight this question carried. What will I do without you? 

It's one not a lot of people can answer, or they don’t want to answer. Something Michael and I often avoided, while he was alive.

One evening, I had tried to set up my new laptop for a film night. But considering that I’m worse with electronics than a glass of water, I struggled. He walked in with two cups of tea in hand as I angrily smashed at random keys.

“Did that computer kill your family or something?” I rolled my eyes.

“It’s not bloody working!” 

“Gimme that.” He snatched the laptop from my hands. To this day I still don’t know what he did, but whatever it was, a couple of clicks later everything was fixed. As he handed it back with a smug grin he said “No need to thank me.” His words practically dripped with pride. 

“How’d you do that?” I asked with exasperation.

“Magical boyfriend powers.” He said in a matter-of-fact way that I couldn’t help but laugh at.

“What would I do without you?” There was silence for far too long of a moment before he replied with a simple hum, resting his head against my shoulder. For the next seven minutes, nothing was said, until we got Netflix up and running and decided to watch E.T. As we deflated into the soft cotton of my bedsheets, mugs of tea warming our knuckles, I did think about it. What life would be like without him. For a moment. But then E.T’s finger began to glow and my train of thought stopped at an abrupt halt. 

Back then it was okay to leave future problems in the future. After all, how are you supposed to answer such a question? It was best just to keep that thought away. Locked in a little box in the back of mind along with the assignments I still hadn’t finished. But I couldn’t dodge the thought anymore. I needed an answer. A flashlight in the dark cave that was now my life.
Just something .

Michael stared at me, eye wide and his hands going limp causing mine to fall at my sides. He had now taken a great interest in the pattern of the cobblestone pathway. But my gaze stayed on him, unwavering. One hand held my locket between my thumb and finger, looking for that comfort the little bee gave me. 

“I don’t know.” He stated, his eyes were now still as they looked at me with full honesty., though his voice was sombre. We gazed at each other, for a moment no words were spoken. We were just two boys, who couldn’t think of a way to live without the other.

“I’m sorry.” He breathed, an undeniable guilt in his tone. “I-I can’t tell you how you’re going to live without me. Or how to mourn me, or what your future will look like.” His eyes grow misty. “I can’t convince you to feel guilty if you forget the anniversary of my death. Or if you’ve gone days, weeks or even years without thinking about me.” I could feel a chill emanating from his body.

“M-Michael…” My voice cracked. “I can’t do this.” I had a desperate grip on his waist, as if he would fall through my fingers at any moment. “I can't. I tried, really I tried so hard but you’re all I’ve ever known...” My breath hitched in the back of my throat. “I’m not strong enough without you.” His shoulders fell, lips parted and eyes slightly wider.

“Do you really think that?” He looked at me in a way that made my heart ache. Like I destroyed everything he once believed. Almost, betrayal.

“I-I mean…” My voice trailed off, not knowing what to say.

“Hey,” He said softly, in a similar way one consoles a crying child. My chin was now placed between his thumb and knuckle. “Don’t say that. Never say that. Do you even know how amazing you are?” His lips curved into a smile, his cheeks slightly damp and paler than they looked before. 

“D’you remember that time right before our English exam. I suck at English and I started to have a panic attack, so then my heart started to act up. I-I was terrified, I really thought I was going to die.” He placed his hand to my chest, feeling as my own heartbeat raced in my ribcage. “And you calmed me down. Just like this. You looked me in the eyes, told me to breathe and said ‘Everythings gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay’. Remember that?” 

“I do.” I nodded with a sniffle. “I was terrified too.”

“I know you were.” He whispered, his grip on me tightened. “But you got me through it because Thomas Wilson you are the strongest person I know.” He used my full name with sincerity. “I won’t lie to you. It's gonna suck. It’s gonna hurt, like hell, for a long time and you might think that It’ll never end.” He sniffled, his hands cupping my tear-stained cheeks, gently wiping them away with his thumb. “But one day, you’ll wake up, and things will be a little easier. And everyday they’ll keep getting easier, and easier bit by bit until you’re ready to be the great guy I know you are again.” He let out a long, shaking exhale.

“And when you are, please don’t feel guilty. I want you to move on. Go to parties, kiss boys in bars, have one night stands and make idiotic decisions you can laugh about when you're older. Go out and do all that crazy shit you’re meant to do in your twenties.” Resting my forehead against his, I let out quiet sobs. “I don’t want my death to hold you back. Tommy I…” His voice broke before he took a deep breath to compose himself, though it didn’t help much.

“I just want you to live.” 

As his voice came to a stop, there was a foreign, cold feeling on my cheek. Where the warmth of his breath used to be now just felt like a chilling breeze. Then I could noice how much lighter he felt. There was no more texture to his clothes, no roughness to the seams of his jacket. It was a lot like running my fingertips over a dense cloud. I pulled away to see him fully, yet I didn’t expect to be met with the shocking sight of his transparent frame. Through him I saw the trees, the grass, his headstone almost perfectly. It was as if his ghost form appeared in front of me.

“What the-” My heart dropped creating anxious pricks in my fingers.

“The potion’s starting to wear off.” He sniffed, gazing at me with pure adoration. Though it was a challenge to see with the watery filter over my eyes. “Tommy, I want you to promise me that. Promise me that you’ll live. Please, live longer than I could.” I pressed my lips into a secure line to prevent any further cries from escaping as I ran my thumb over the engraved bee. The one that was supposed to protect me, the one that had protected me and would protect me. A small part of him that would always be by my side. So I mustered up any strength I had in my scrawny bones and I knew what I had to say.

“Yes,” I nodded hastily. “I can do it.” 

“Promise?” 

“I promise.” And I meant every word. Just like he said, it would be hard. It would be really fucking hard. But I could do it. Eventually. Looking into our grief filled eyes we held each other almost to the point of suffocation, just to make the most of the last few moments we had together.

“Everythings gonna be okay.” He reassured me. “You’re gonna be okay.” He whispered so tenderly my heart ached. I rested my forehead against his with a bittersweet smile. 

“I know, I know” The grip on my locket tightened as I saw him get more and more transparent. “I love you.” I breathed, so quietly I’m surprised he heard. 

“I love you too…” He grinned, a sparkling, charming grin only he could conjure up in such a sorrowful moment. And so, for the last time, our lips met in a passionate, love-filled kiss I savoured like a starving man. As my hand ran up his neck, pressing his chillingly cold lips against mine, the sensation soon faded…and the hand that once held him so close fell limply at my side.

He was gone. All that remained was an empty glass bottle laying at my feet.

A sigh I didn’t know I was holding back escaped from me as my knees gave out from beneath me. The locket stayed in my firm grasp. Eyes wandered over the moss growing between the cracks of the stone. Also a faint sting at my kneecaps where I had landed on them.

He was really gone.

***

Not long after I found myself at the cafe Lidia mentioned. The sun had now managed to spill through the gaps in the clouds, shining on the deep red sign. Spill the beans , the sign read in flowy cursive letters. It was a small, hole in the wall kind of cafe with three white, fold out tables, six chairs scattered outside the building. They had clearly been here for a while, maybe left out in the rain a few times due to the rust concealed under a peeling layer of faded paint. There she was, sipping on a cup of tea with a few digestives along the saucer. I stood about two feet from her, hands in my pockets as my shadow was cast over the concrete ground. Her face lit up into a knowing smile as she looked up at me. She placed down her teacup, her hands then folded in her lap.

“How’d it go, love?” She asked, gesturing to a seat beside her but my feet refused to move. I stood frozen with the overwhelming emotions of the day crashing into me like the wave of an ocean storm. 

“He’s okay…” I whispered with a cheek-aching grin and fuzzy vision. “He’s happy.” I said breathlessly. My shoulders trembled, whether it was from crying or laughter, I’m not sure. But either way it caused Lidia  to rise (with slight struggle) from her chair and envelop me in a tight biscuit-scented hug. By the time she pulled away there were two (hardly noticeable) wet patches on the shoulder of her pink cardigan. 

“Oh look at ya love, come on, have a sit.” She pushed me towards the white chair opposite her. “You did a hard thing today.” She said before placing her hand on top of mine. “I’ll tell you, the first time I did that with Charlie almost cried my bloody eyes out.” I sniffled as I sat down, wiping my cheeks for what I hoped would be the last time today. “So, I’m proud of you, for being so strong.” She spoke in a nurturing way only a grandmother could. I took in a cleansing breath and gathered my words.

“Thank you, so much for everything.” I managed to get out before blowing my nose on a crumpled serviette. “Really I…I can’t thank you enough for this.” She looked up from her teacup and placed it back down with a clank against the saucer.

“Let's get you a good cup of tea, alright darling? You’ll need it before you go.” She held her hand up to get the attention of a waitress inside. “I always come down here after visiting Charlie. They do a proper cup of tea.” She assured me as the waitress, Marilin, came and took my order. Her and Lidia exchanged a few words, I’m not sure what about exactly. My mind was so preoccupied I could only see their lips move. Though it looked as if they enjoyed one another's company. 

A steady grin grew across my face while a pleasant buzz danced around my ears. The flutter of a bumble bee that soon landed gracefully on the tip of my finger. It lingered there for a moment, wiggling its little legs, I didn’t dare disturb it. Its wings twitched ever so slightly. I could feel its delicate fuzz brushing over my knuckle as it climbed up my hand.

All of a sudden I remembered that cookie-cutter quote I used to hear non-stop. The same ones that used to endlessly taunt me not too long ago. That beautiful buzz whirled around my head once again. Looking up, I watched as the bumble bee flew away, to his next flower or back to his hive. Back to where he belongs. 

He’s in a better place now.  

Hm.  

They were right.