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Pete walked up to the house. He had never been there before and though it wasn’t much, it felt like it was towering over him. It was casting a shadow, dark and stretched out, as if the house itself was taunting him.
He took a deep breath and walked to the door. This was going to be hard.. but the past days had been hard too... it had barely been a week but he probably had slept an hour total. He didn’t dare close his eyes. He couldn’t stand silence. Or dusk. Or night. Or a shower... everything brough his mind back to that night.
Not that distractions actually worked. Hell, some days they seemed to make it worse. And the place he was now living in didn’t help, since he could only afford because of his win. Hah. His loss...
He felt like he had no right to be upset. It wasn’t his loss, it was Ginnie’s. And that was why he was here. Because he owed her an apology.
He breathed deeply again, and knocked.
It took her a while to open the door, and it gave him enough time to go over the things he wanted to say. But the moment he saw her, he was choking on sobs, not a word coming out. A quick glance at her was all it took. His knees felt weak and his heart was breaking again and again and again. His hands were shaking and his ears were hearing things that were not there. He could hear Ray again, screaming at his mother that he just wanted a quick hug. Just one quick hug. He heard Ray screaming apologies in the same way he wanted scream them now.
Ginnie was talking to him, but he could not hear a word. Just faint sounds coming from her direction. She opened the door further, stepping aside with more sounds, but Pete did not walk in. He could not. He was not welcome. He had personally killed her son and she would never forgive him. He won’t.
He was startled out of his sobs by an arm wrapping around his shoulders. She was walking him into the living room and it was feeling all too familiar. The house smelled like Ray. Her touch felt like Ray. He couldn’t help but think of their first meeting. Of Ray’s hand in his, all too short and yet so memorable.
He collapsed on her couch and curled in on himself. The sobs were ripping out of him without any control. He could not stop them, nor the tears that were falling from his eyes like waterfalls. He had not let himself mourn him. Not like this. He had hurt every second since it had happened, but he hadn’t cried yet. Not since that night, when rain and tears and saliva all mixed together as he screamed.
Finally, he made his mouth form words and then they tumbled out over and over.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
He apologized over and over. He had to. He owed her that. He was the reason her son is dead and she must hate him. He was sure of that, and so he told her so.
“You must hate me. He is gone because of me.” His jaw ached as he fought off another sob. “I should’ve shrugged him off when he pulled me back up. Should’ve held my ground. Should’ve told him to live and let me die...” He grit his teeth, his eyes burning with new tears that he could not stop. “...but I was selfish. He told me to walk with him just a little more and I thought.. if I must die, I’d like to spend a little more time with him...” He closed his eyes so tightly it hurt, but it was nothing. Nothing compared to his heart. “...I should have saved him...”
“You tried to save him, Pete.”
His hands were shaking in his lap. “I tried to save him but I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t enough. I couldn’t save him...”
“But you did..” Ginnie’s voice said softly, despite the tears streaming down her face. Light hands touched dark skin as she turned his face upward to lock eyes. He hadn’t been able to yet. “...you did save him. Multiple times... and you made him feel loved... and you made him love... something I hadn’t been able to in years... He hadn’t loved a thing... a person... in years. Not really.” She wiped his tears away, but kept her hold of his face. “His final act was out of love...”
His breath faltered. “That’s what I wanted to do...” He swallowed heavily, willing himself to calm down. It did not work. “I tried... I tried to go before him... tried to-”
Ginnie shook her head. “Look... I’m not going to sit here and pretend I’m not broken in every way that I can be... but I am grateful for you. I’ve seen the footage. You made him laugh, you made him feel understood and worthy and strong. You chose to save his life time and time again even though you didn’t have to.”
She was so calm it just upset Pete more.
“What does it matter... he’s still gone....”
“It matters because you had more time.”
More moments. He realized. How could he forget? Those moments mattered. Of course they did.
He let himself fall into her arms. He hadn’t meant to, it just happened. He sobbed and sobbed and couldn’t help but utter his name over and over.
“I want more time with him... I had five days..!”
Ginnie backed away and caressed a hand over his cheek. “I had 24 years... It’s not enough, darling. It’s never enough when you love someone.”
Pete averted his eyes and stayed quiet. He was unsure of what to say. Did she know? Could she see it in his eyes? He wanted to move away from her touch but he was afraid of what he’d see if he looked her in the eye again.
Suddenly, before he could stop her, she moved away from him and then stood up. “Come.” She held out her hand. There was no look, no judgement on her face, no anger in her eyes. Pete hesitantly took her hand and let her lead him to... his room...
“Oh fuck...” He uttered without realizing. “Oh, I’m sorry ma’am.”
She smiled sadly at him and briefly ran her hand over his hair as if to say that she understood. She saw him and she knew and she understood. “Take your time.” She said as she left the room. Her voice was breaking, he knew she must hurt eons more than him, but he fell to his knees the moment she had closed the door. He was hurting in a way that was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. And he had hurt plenty in his life... but this? This... was unbearable...
He crawled to his bed and hoisted himself onto it. He was breathing in deeply through his nose, trying to calm himself down.. but realised his mistake too late. Ray. It smelled liked Ray. It all smelled like Ray. He was clutching the pillow to his chest and face in seconds. He tried not to be too loud, he really did, but the sobs were once again unstoppable.
He was reminded of the moment he basically admitted he was queer. You got a lady? No I don’t Ray. Why had he said it like that? Why couldn’t he have just said no and moved on? It gave Barkovitch something to bother him about. It probably made him question every touch. He certainly thought it had. Even when he saved him on that hill Ray’s eyes had gone down to where he was touching him... He had pulled away immediately, shame filling his heart.
But... Ray did not shy away from him. He stayed close and put his hand on him constantly. After all that... everything he did just meant so much more... every touch... every lingering look... his final words...
Pete screwed his eyes shut so tight he was seeing stars.
If he closed his eyes tight enough he could pretend that the pillow was his soft belly. That it was heaving and falling with every breath. He forced himself to wonder what sounds he made in this room. Did he sing to himself while getting dressed? Did he scream when he was angry? Did he cry when he lost his dad? Did he laugh at silly jokes? Did he cite his favourite book? Did he whisper to himself? Did he calm himself down from his panic? Did he hype himself up before walking out of this room for good?
Poor Ginnie had left the house to get away from his sobs. They were breaking her again and again. But... the place her legs took her to was his body. They had given it to her the very same night. Rung her out of bed in pitch black darkness and left it on her doorstep.
She had known, thankfully. She had beat herself up for watching the final stretch, because now she had the image of her son getting shot burned in her brain and it would never leave. But then his body was in her arms and she was thankful that she had at least known he was gone. If she had heard the bell ringing thinking he had won and came home to celebrate she would have... probably grabbed one of their guns and hurried after him...
She immediately got to digging a grave. She could not look at him. It was too much. So she dug in her backyard as she was screaming and sobbing and falling apart the whole time. It took 10 whole minutes before her neighbour was standing next to her with a shovel of her own. She didn’t say a word. She just gently tugged Ginnie out of the grave and nudged her towards her son’s body before continuing to dig.
Ginnie spent the rest of the night on the cold, damp ground, holding his body in her arms. She held him, she kissed him, she ran her hand through his hair, but she could not look. She could not open her eyes and see the state that he was in.
She had already seen too much.
Pete was still curled up on Ray’s bed, arms tightly wound around his pillow, his tears and snot soaking in.
“Ray... Oh god Ray...” He uttered, choking on his sobs once more. He couldn’t stop.
It was new to him, because in the past he had mourned plenty of people, but none of them turned him into this... but that thought just made him more upset.
“Peter.” Ginnie pulled him from his hellish mind. Her eyes were red, bloodshot, and hollow. “If you wish to say goodbye... he’s... he’s in the yard.” She averted her gaze away from the room. “I’m sure that’s why you came..” It wasn’t an accusation, but it kind of felt like it.
Pete sat up on the bed, moved the pillow back where it belonged and swiped the creases out of it. “I came here to apologize.” He still could not look her in the eye. “The guilt is eating me, Ginnie.”
She stayed silent for what felt like ages. Then finally, she stepped out of the doorpost with a quiet. “Come.”
Pete hesitantly followed. He was not sure if he wanted to see his grave. The mere thought of being near his body was nauseating. He desperately wanted to feel him; wanted him in his arms. He wanted-
His thoughts stopped when he saw it. The patch of dirt clearly recently touched... the flowers at the top... the photo... oh god the photo....
“Say what you must. Then come inside for tea.” Ginnie uttered. The statement was spoken around the lump in her throat. A lump not unlike the one in Pete’s throat. The photo was recent and of a smile he had been privileged enough to see aimed at himself.
He shuffled closer and readied himself to speak. In the meantime Ginnie was standing by her kitchen window, getting things ready for tea.
Pete breathed deeply and pulled out a piece of paper. “I wrote this... It’s uhh... it’s a letter... or I guess it’s a song... or maybe a poem... well, one of them... The thought of you makes me write a lot. Though writing doesn’t feel so sweet anymore, Ray... it really don’t. I’d give it all up if I got to see you again...” He chuckled dryly. “Though I guess that sounds like a line from a poem too, huh?”
He cleared his throat, breathed deeply again and puffed out his chest. “It’s called, I imagine.” He opened the piece of paper with shaking hands. He had to try several times, the hurt was too much. He had just finally calmed down, but his eyes were burning again.
Pete did not notice Ginnie exiting the house, nor that she sat down on the steps to listen to his poem.
“I imagine.” He started. “I imagine your smile. All teeth and carefree, despite the position we were in. I imagine your hair, sticking to your forehead despite your hands pushing it away every few seconds. I imagine your hat, dorky and so smart I was jealous of you. I imagine your hand on my arm, pulling me along. I imagine all of you. Fuck Ray, I think about you every day. Every minute. Every second.”
He cleared his throat from the new lump that was forming.
“I imagine I fought harder when you pulled me back up. I imagine I screamed my wish the second I realized what you’d done. I imagine it was granted and you were rushed to the hospital. I imagine spending hours, days by your side, in a chair… in your bed… my hand on your heart or your wrist… because even in my daydreams I can’t believe you’re alive.”
He let out a stale laugh. It was the bitterly funny how even his daydreams did not give him peace
“I imagine your chest heaving and falling. I imagine feeling your heartbeat beneath my hand. I imagine the squeeze of your fingers on my shoulder. I imagine the graze of your hand as we walk.”
He looked down, breath shuddering. “I imagine I pulled myself free from those fucking bastards holding me down. I imagine I ran to you. I imagine we had more time together. I imagine I stayed with you longer… longer… and longer still…” A sob ripped through him involuntarily.
“Dear boy, I wish I had…
Every night all I see is you in my arms. Bloodied and broken and yet somehow still so certain of your decision.
And I imagine, that I’d brushed the hair out of your face, that I had told you that I love you right back you motherfucker. I imagine your hands on me, shaking and weak but desperately wanting to keep me close.
I imagine the feel of your lips on mine.
But...
None of that shit happened...
I held you in my arms for too short. I looked at you too short. I touched you...” He looked up at the sky fighting off his tears, and continued without looking back down. “...not enough. Not god damn enough. The time we had together was not enough damn it!” He was screaming and certain the neighbours were hearing him, but he did not care anymore. The dam had broken and he was letting it all out. Nothing could stop him. Not even the sobs or the hiccups that came with them.
“Why’d you have to save me, motherfucker?” He looked back up again, breathing hard through gritting teeth. He was getting angry.
“I had made peace! I was willing to die for you! I was ready!” His knees were shaking and his voice breaking.
“Why couldn’t you let me save you....
Now what the fuck do I do? I don’t want this shit without you by my side!”
He collapsed on his knees with a loud thud. Leaning fully on his grave now. “Not anymore...”
It took a minute before he moved. He breathed deeply, and leant up, head held high as if proud. “I used to be fine and dandy on my own, you know that?” He swallowed audibly. “And then I met you... And fuck me you were such a good soul. You helped Curly without even knowing him. In fact, knowing he was going to die at some point anyway. You knew he would not win. But you did not hesitate. You scarified a warning, your own safety, to help him. And god damn it, it would have worked too if he hadn’t been just a kid....”
He sagged and sighed.
“Ray...” He touched the photo. Exactly how he remembered him. “...why’d you have to go and do something stupid... I told you not to be stupid!” He slammed his fist on the dirt and found his letter next to it. He must have dropped it, though he did not remember when he had stopped reading and started pouring his heart out instead.
“I imagine...” He sobbed. “I imagine saving you again and again...
I imagine kissing you in the middle of the street. I imagine the viewers deciding we must both live.... I imagine you wanting that...” He angrily wiped the tears of his face. “During those days I had become so sure... but now I ain’t so sure anymore, Ray...” He looked up at the sky and found himself praying for a miracle. “Is that a part I imagined too...?”
“A part me knows that it isn’t... It was there.. It was real... but a part of me thinks I’m just being a queer hoping to find more queers...”
He let his eyes move back to the photo and it hurt so much he subconsciously grabbed his chest.
“God Ray... meeting you has wrecked me...
All this time... all my life... I have been walking. I never knew where to or what from, but I knew I had to keep going. Now I know I was looking for you. And now I find myself praying to a god I don’t believe in to get to spend more time with you...
Or to bend the rules of time and make me meet you before The Walk... Maybe convince you not to go at all...”
He let go of his heart and instead clawed at the dirt separating them.
“How am I supposed to do good when all I can do is imagine more time with you? I talk to you every day, man.” His voice breaks. “...and you never fucking reply no more...”
He shook his head.
“I have lived through so much, my friend, so much pain... but none compare to this... to meeting you... loving you... and loosing you.. in the span of five days....”
He laughed, but it was bitter. “God, five days... I’d call myself insane if I hadn’t been there to see you try to save Curly... save Hank... save Art... see you offer comfort to anyone who needed it. Even god damn Barkovitch...”
He grabbed the photo and pressed his lips to his forehead.
“You... Ray, you were everything this world needs. Kind, passionate, certain, and even full of love despite it all. That’s why I love you.
I love you, Ray.
I love you.”