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It started with the headache. A sudden pain penetrating the skull, which caused Edgar to stumble into the bed with a small gasp.
“Mikey, could you grab… my head really hurts…”
It seemed innocuous enough. A headache. Michael didn’t think anything of it as he grabbed the painkillers from the ensuite, always in stock for his ongoing aches and pains which never seemed to leave from a lifetime of injury. By the time he had filled a glass of water and returned to the bedroom, Edgar was sitting on the edge of their bed, holding his head in his hands.
Michael was only a few steps away when Edgars left arm dropped to his side. Limp. Thud. Already dead. Edgar’s face crumpled, looking at the defying hand. “Wha- I can’t lift it.” His breath quickened as he continued to try to regain control of his body which would no longer respond. “Why can’t I-” The glass and medicine bottle were dropped, forgotten as Michael rushed to his side. He knelt before Edgar, holding his shoulders, holding him up as his body went loose, telling him it was ok, it was going to be fine. He was there.
“It hurts- I don’t… I can’t see…
“Mikey where are-
“what…”
It only took three minutes. He sounded so small. The analogue clock on the nightstand blinking 10:24pm. Three minutes.
Edgar’s eyes were empty, his confusion gone, replaced instead with the glazed reflection of Michael’s own fear. He clutched his Panther’s shoulders tightly holding him upright, unwilling to let him fall just yet. But shaking hands are weak, and he felt his grip begin to slip. He was falling away- Michael readjusted so his arms were cradling the body of his husband in order to lower him down softly. Standing back he saw-
Edgar was on his back … hands that sat limp and unorganised across his torso … Gentle hands … Edgar didn’t die… Edgar didn’t die… Edgar…
Michael squeezed his eyes shut, finally letting the tears which had been simmering in his eyes fall and cut sizzling lines down his face. No blood this time. Just sudden unexplained pain. He stumbled back out of the room, unable to open his eyes and see- if he did, he wouldn’t be able to leave. It took ten minutes to open the safe in Edgar’s office, another ten to operate the calculator. He could not fuck this one up.
He had to fix this.
***
It started with the headache. It took three minutes. He was gone by 10:24pm.
The doctors couldn’t help. They said it was a brain haemorrhage. An intracerebral bleed in the very inner tissues of Edgar’s brain. So horrifically normal. No murder; no violence; no warning. Just sudden and painful death. Just unlucky.
***
It started with the headache. It took three minutes. He was gone by --:--pm.
So much for the compound’s medical advancements.
Michael was hoarse from screaming. How dare Ty Betteridge torture him for ‘science’ and when he actually needed that science it wouldn’t work? It couldn’t save the one person he cared about?
It wasn’t fair.
After everything Ty just looked at him pityingly, like he was a child, like he was sorry. He told them there was nothing he could do. Edgar pulled Michael away; said they would try something else.
***
It started with the headache. It took three minutes. He was gone by 10:24pm.
Why the fuck would nothing work? Whywhywhywhywhywhy-
***
It always started with the headache. Always took three minutes. He was gone by 10:24pm.
An entire year of corrections and heartache and still…
Again.
Michael hid the scars collecting on his chest from Edgar, though he couldn’t hide the grey as it invaded his hair line. He was clearly ageing beyond the years that exist in linear time. Honestly, he probably knew about the scars as well.
And then it was that night again.
Edgar was looking at him from across the dinner table with such knowing eyes. He could always see right through him, and he could tell today was the day. Michael didn’t even have to tell him. He could see in the way Michael had suggested they make paella together for dinner, Edgar’s favourite dish. Could tell in the way they spent the week, alternating between doctor’s appointments and visits to friends and family which felt more like a goodbye tour. Preparing for the inevitable.
Michael suddenly stood, seizing his still-full plate of the steaming rice seafood dinner and taking it to the kitchen. He couldn’t eat. He couldn’t stand to keep siting there, trying to be cheery for him. And failing. Edgar was the one about to die- he was failing. About to-
Gentle hands wrapped around his waist from behind, pulling him out of his head.
“It’s ok, Bear.”
“No,” he choaked in response, “no I can’t.”
“I can’t either,” Edgar whispered. He let go and pulled Michael around to face him. “I’m watching you slowly die in front of me, losing your years, I can’t let that happen.”
A small, sad smile spread across Edgar’s face, revealing his dimples and crinkling his crowfeet. “It’s my time.”
And deep in his gut Michael knew it.
***
This time, it didn’t start with the headache. It started with the embrace.
Michael held Edgar; enfolding him in his arms as they lay together on their bed in the comforting silence of togetherness, protecting him from the cold exterior world even if he couldn’t protect him from the body’s innermost betrayal. He held him close as he could. My hands will keep you safe.
Michael kissed Edgar’s forehead, and his panther for the last time told him: “I love you Mikey Bear.”
Unable to speak, Michael sang.
“Обязательно по дому в этот час
Be sure that at this hour,
“Тихо-тихо ходит кошка возле нас”
Quietly, a dream awaits us,
The headache hit with its gentle gasp, and Edgar’s breath quickened. His grip tightened on Michaels arms, holding on to reality as it slipped from him, and his strength failed. Michael simply stroked his golden hair and didn’t let go, letting those three minutes come and pass.
“За окошком все темннеe
Outside the window everything is dark,
“Утро ночи мудренее”
The morning will be a new day,
He sang Edgar’s lullaby one last time. Sang him goodbye. Sang him to sleep.
“Глазки закрывай, Баю-бай.”
Close your eyes, And Good Night.
Till the clock read 10:24.