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Leo didn’t understand, couldn’t understand. What was happening to him? His mind was breaking, as if a barrier had broken and the water was left to rush through. There was too much going on, Tristan was lying on the ground outside of his vision, and Aziza was at his side. But something in his gut told him something was wrong, incredibly wrong. He let go of Hazel, walking over to the pale necromancer he hadn’t known for more than a few… No, that wasn’t right… What was going on in his head? Thoughts appeared that he couldn’t keep away. Of course he cared for Tristan, but not to the extent that he’d feel this need to help him, and it was a need, more than he’d needed anything before. Aziza had ran over to Tristan, how long ago, he wasn’t sure. Aziza became was quiet, holding Tristan, whose body was too limp for comfort. She began to mutter to Tristan, before shaking him with a rising voice.
“How could you leave him like this? I was going to help you… I wanted to help you!” Her words didn’t make sense, what was she talking about? Tristan needed help? Who was Tristan leaving behind? Before he knew what he was doing, he was pulling Tristan into his own arms, hiding his body from Aziza. Had he passed out? He went to feel the breath coming out of his nose to quell his worst fear. But no breath came, and as Leo put his ear to Tristan’s chest, he couldn’t hear a heartbeat. Why couldn’t he hear a heartbeat?
“Tris… Please…” He didn’t know why the tears were falling down his face. He didn’t know why his heart was pounding in his ears and his head was in more pain than it had been in a very long time. He was pleading with Tristan, but why? Why did it feel like it was life or death for Tristan to listen to him?
Could Tristan even hear him?
“His heart isn’t beating, Aziza… Aziza, what should I do? Why isn’t Tristan breathing?”
“Leo… I don’t think-” Leo didn’t want to hear it, he didn’t want to have to believe the words that slipped from Aziza’s mouth. Tristan wasn’t dead. He just needed help. He just needed…Leo. But his head was already throbbing and his eyes begged for rest. He didn’t know why, but he felt as though he was going to pass out. Where had all the adrenaline gone? He couldn’t sleep, not now, not when Tristan needed immediate medical attention. Tristan’s eyes were closed, yes, he was just sleeping, nothing was wrong. He’d wake up, soon. He’d just spent too much energy. Leo felt his own arms go limp around Tristan, his head lulling him away from the waking world. He heard Aziza yelling at him, but he couldn’t cling to Aziza’s words, she must’ve been speaking another language. He wanted to tell her that he was alright, that they were alright. Tristan was alright.
~
His dreams didn’t have the woman’s voice who told him that he’d lost his true love, that he’d never remember them. Instead, he saw dreams of Tristan, with him before he’d ever met Aziza. He looked younger, with smiles that Leo’s heart clenched at. Leo saw Tristan drawing in notebooks, sitting with him in his room, smiling and hugging. He saw Tristan in his old school. What a strange dream. And yet, it was as if he’d had this dream before. He remembered it. And it was comfortable, as if it had been real life. As if he’d known Tristan, and Tristan had known him. Perhaps Tristan had known him better than he knew himself. He watched as the years sped by, and knew that in this dream, he loved Tristan. Loved him more than anything. He knew too, that loving him and being loved in return, was all he ever wanted. And then, his sixteenth birthday passed. And his dream became more sinister. When Tristan came to talk to Leo the next day, Leo acted as if he didn’t know him. Leo wanted to scream that he did, that he didn’t know why he was acting like he didn’t, but it was too late. Days passed and Tristan never appeared again.
Where had he gone? Why wasn’t he there anymore? Why was his heart in such pain, when it was just a dream? It was just…
No. No it wasn’t. He knew it wasn’t just a dream. He knew it wasn’t something he’d forget in the morning. But why? Why now?
~
He awoke to Aziza by his bedside. He was home. Aziza must have felt him start to move, because she quickly reached over to hug him, and Leo accepted without a second thought. Tears were already pouring out of his eyes.
“Where’s Tristan? Where is he?” Aziza’s eyes widened at his words, before shifting away, arms pulled off of Tristan. She sighed, eyes raw as she rubbed them. She’d been crying too. Why had she been crying? He hadn’t needed medical treatment, or at least nothing spectacular.
“I remember, Aziza.” She took in a sharp breath, turning back, watching him like a hawk.
“What do you remember?”
“My true love. Where is he?” He held her gaze, fists tensing as the tears trailed down his cheeks and off his jaw.
“You can’t see him, Leo. He isn’t…” Tears glistened in her own, and Leo felt his jaw clench. No, no, no… This couldn’t be happening. Not when he remembered him. Not when Leo needed Tristan more than anything.
“Aziza… Please, tell me, where is he?”
“Why do you think you suddenly remember? It’s not as if you had true love’s first kiss, Leo. Leo, tell me, where do you think he is?” She was yelling now, frustration of her own appearing. She was upset. She was in pain. And Tristan…
“He’s gone, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“And the curse he traded his life for…”
“It was yours, Leo.” But the trade wasn’t completed. Tristan had said ten years. Tristan had told him that the curse would only be broken if the hag chose to break it. Was this another punishment? To remember his true love only when he was dead and he couldn’t see him again? If only he had… What? Remembered? If only Tristan hadn’t bargained his life for Leo, even though he knew that Tristan would have done anything for him. But why couldn't it be different?
He began to sob into Aziza’s shoulder as his world came crashing down around him.
~
Visiting Tristan’s grave broke him anew. His parents had found out, and had decided that because Tristan’s deadbeat parents wouldn’t do anything more than they needed to, that they’d be the ones to bury him. They’d given Leo Tristan’s old notebooks, filled with charcoal drawings. Some of them were of him, drawn when Leo wasn’t paying attention. Every brushstroke he touched with his finger made his heart throb with pain. He’d thought he’d lost his true love before, oh no, this was far worse. There was no becoming friends. There was no falling in love again. Tristan would never know Leo loved him just as much as before, Tristan only knew Leo to love him, forget him, and to become a friend that could never become anything more. Tristan must have felt devastated every time they met, every time Leo didn’t trust him, didn’t believe him. Tristan had done terrible things, but Tristan was a broken boy who just wanted to be loved. Who wanted a home. And Tristan had sacrificed himself to make amends. He hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone.
And here, Leo was, hurting more than anyone had ever hurt in the entire world.
He flipped through the pages of the notebook, head resting on the headstone. It read: Tristan Drake. That was it. As if his name could encapsulate everything he was. Leo knew that Tristan didn’t even want his last name.
He wished there was a self portrait. That he could see Tristan smiling. But every page was just observation. Just watching the world. And it hurt to know that these were the pictures a young, safer, Tristan had made. There was nothing left of Tristan that was recent. Not really. He loved everything about Tristan. And he knew that this pain would never go away, that no one could replace Tristan. Despite how young he was, as his parents pointed out, but it wouldn’t be fair to anyone else when he couldn’t love anyone as he did Tristan.
He let out a slow breath, looking up at the sky, and wishing, more than anything, that Tristan was looking back.
“I miss you, Tris.”