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9:01.
He’s behind the wheel of an RV. Sirens blare. His heart is pounding. He’s going to jail. He’s going to go to jail forever. He’s going to be alone in a cell forever.
Jay McCarroll sees blood and brain matter splattered in his peripheral vision. His grip on the wheel tightens, eyes flicking back to the lights on the dashboard. Not connected. Why isn’t it connected? Where is Matt? Fury rises up in his chest. Of course, Matt’s fucked it up. When doesn’t he? He accelerates.
9:02.
He grits his teeth down and hisses. He has to fix this. He finally got what he wanted, then he had to fuck it up. Stupid. Stupid. But he can fix this. As long as Matt keeps up his end of the mission for once, for one fucking time in his life. He’s about to think something else cruel. Then- Green light.
He skids around the corner past where he left Matt. Where he’s going to leave Matt. He can’t slow down. The number on the dashboard ticks up. Then he sees it.
Matt’s standing by the power box. Matt has the cord in his hand. Matt has the snippers in his hand. He’s looking at him while he presses the metal to metal.
9:03.
The sound of the strike feels deafening. He looks at Matt. He can’t look away, even as his fingers fumble with the numbers in a movement he barely realizes he’s performing. He thinks they make eye contact. Electricity fizzes overhead. Matt smiles at him.
He only saw it for a second before the white flash overtook him. But that might have made it worse. As now, in the moment of space between time, everything seems to slow down and Jay imagines he can see it with perfect, horrible clarity.
Jay watches the arc spread up his hand. Muscles spasm- he hears a sickening crack as tendons snap and bones break. He can see the red lesions crawling across his skin as the capillaries burst, up his face. One of his eyeballs haemorrhages immediately. His blazer catches fire. He’s up in an instant- and with the fire, his skin blisters and burns. He imagines the fire flooding into his lungs. The way it would cook him from the inside. The heated air expanding, cracking his ribs, bursting his chest. The way his heart would stutter, falter, explode.
Matt smiles at him.
And Jay is alone.
---
He’s screaming, hands clawing for a door to an RV that isn’t there, slamming instead into drywall and bruising his knuckles. He has to get out. He has to see Matt. It’s dark and he’s screaming and something above him creaks and he can’t tell what it is because it’s too loud, everything is too loud, and the thunder is loud and the lightning is loud and the sound of it all is going to kill him.
He feels a weight against him and nearly strikes it before he feels his arms pressed tightly down, pushing them away from the phantom doorhandle he was scrambling to find, away from the wheel of a vehicle that isn’t there. He wails, eyes screwed shut- why? What is stopping him? He has to go back. He has to be there. He has to find him.
Matt’s dead, and it’s all his fault.
If he hadn’t been so selfish. If he hadn’t killed his bandmate. If he hadn’t ignored him backstage. If he hadn’t left him in the RV. If he hadn’t told Matt in the past how he wanted to abandon him. If he hadn’t been such a useless, horrible friend who had planned to abandon him in the first place. If they had never met. If he had never been born.
The thoughts race through his life, his lives- memories from two timelines mix. At one moment, he’s sitting in the Queen Street apartment. In the next, he’s sitting in a mansion. He’s playing piano. He’s signing a record deal. He’s playing video games. He’s on a stage in front of thousands. But he’s alone. Every time, no matter where he finds himself, he’s alone. He’s alone. Matt’s dead, and he’s alone.
The weight against him increases. A touch between his shoulderblades strikes through the haze, a soft pressure which begins circling. Something warm wraps around him. He can smell something familiar. A voice- his voice? No, not his voice, his voice is hoarse and frantic and begging out loud not to be alone, for Matt not to leave him. Another voice.
‘Shh- come on, it’s okay. It’s alright. I’m here, man. I’m right here.’
Matt.
‘Breathe, Jay- c’mon, Bird. It’s just me. You’re okay. I’m here, dude. I’m not leaving. I’m staying right here.’
Oh god, it’s Matt. The floodgates burst and he wails again, burying his face into the warmth and feeling hair brush against his forehead. His hands grasp against familiar pyjamas and he holds on like this is the only thing keeping him alive. It might as well be.
‘Shh, shh- don’t worry, don’t yell, it’s okay. Breathe. Bird, I’m here, I’m your friend. I’m not leaving you. I’d never leave you, Bird. You know that- you know that, right? Of course I’m not leaving. You’re not leaving either. You’re- you’re stuck with me, Bird.’
A hiccup. Not from him, strangely. Matt might have laughed, or maybe he cried. Jay can’t tell. He’s barely here right now, mind and body still disconnected but the presence of Matt’s body- a body he realizes now he’s wrapped around, tight enough that his muscles ache- it’s enough. It’s just enough.
Thoughts overlap and slide back into place slowly. He’s in their house. He’s in their bed. They’re sat upright in bed and Matt has practically crawled into his lap and allowed Jay to cling to him. Matt’s shoulder is all wet from where he’s been sobbing and screaming into it. He can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed yet- the energy just isn’t there.
The noises slow down, at least. He’s still whimpering, hiccups and heaving noises, but he’s not screaming. The firm hand rubs pressure between his shoulders again, easing him further into Matt. Jay would sink into him if he could get any deeper.
‘There you go- there you go. You’re fine. You’re gonna be okay. I’m okay, too. I’m here, dude. Right here. Bird.’
He mumbles to him on a loop until the shaking dies down. Jay hurts. His whole body aches. His throat is raw, like he’s just swallowed glass. Every breath is another knife in his chest. But he’s alive. Matt’s alive. That’s all that matters. He hurts but he’s alive.
His face vanishes into the skin at Matt’s neck, smearing something wet against him. He thinks he can hear normally again, now that blood doesn’t feel like it’s going to burst his eardrums. He tries to speak but it comes out as an unintelligible noise. Matt seems to understand him, though. Matt can talk for him.
‘Yeah, yeah. You just- you had a bad dream, Bird. I don’t- you must have had a nightmare. It’s storming outside, dude, you- I thought you were just a little freaked by the thunder but then you started… like, started wailing for me in your sleep, and I… look, I’m not gonna be mean to you right now dude, but it really fuckin’ scared me.’
Oh. Jay woke Matt up? Shame ripples through him, but he’s too tired to hold onto it. The fingers on his back massage it out of him. He feels like he’s going limp.
‘Yeah, scared- scared the shit outta me. This isn’t- weird, right? Me holding you like this? You don’t mind, right? Like… I just wanna make sure you’re okay, man. You’re gonna be okay. Yeah, keep breathing, Bird. We’ll get through this. We get through everything, right?’
Matt was babbling. He did that when he was high-strung, be it excitement or anxiety. Jay didn’t care. The more Matt talked, the lighter he felt. He let his words carry him.
‘Course we do. We get through- everything. Together. Always have. You’re always gonna have me, Bird. I’m not leaving you. You’re my best friend. You’re my- yeah.’ He felt Matt swallow something, and the arms around him shifted a little. ‘Yeah.’
Jay must have gone very still, because he felt himself get jostled just a little. ‘Bird?’
He managed a quiet affirmative sound.
‘Okay, didn’t wanna- thought I lost you. You okay? Still with me, Bird?’
He squeezed Matt. ‘Yeah.’ The word felt like ripping a blade out of his throat. He could barely manage more than a syllable. ‘Matt.’
‘Okay, man. Yeah, that- you're tired. Okay, lie down, let’s- lemme just-’ And he felt himself leaning back and pressing back against blankets, still tightly glued to Matt’s body.
‘Uh, you want me to- keep doing this? Stay here?’ Even like this, Jay could pick up on the uncertainty. He nodded against him. ‘Ah, uh- cool. Yeah. That’s fine. Scoot over a little, lemme get in there.’
Some mild repositioning- Jay felt boneless, simply let himself get rolled onto his side by Matt while he clung to him the whole time like the world would end if he let go. He sighed something deep and exhausted, still shivering a little involuntarily.
But Matt was here, so it would be okay. He knew that. The thought washed over him like a warm wave, a balm to the bleeding wound he could feel in his chest. The images of his death replaced with ones of him now, his warmth, his presence- he was real. He was here. And he was alive.
They probably wouldn’t talk about it in the morning. Chances are, Matt would extract himself from Jay’s vice grip just before breakfast and pour him his favourite cereal and have it ready to go in bed for him with a glass of hot milk, buzzing with an idea for a new plan.
He wouldn’t ask why Jay had started having nightmares. Or why they only happened on nights where the thunder was loud enough to rattle the house. Or why they always involved him waking up, screaming for Matt like he was being murdered.
But he’d be there every time, crawling out of his bunk and into Jay’s to hold him through it until he realized he was here, alive, and he fell into a dreamless sleep against his shoulder.
And maybe someday, he’d prod a little. He’d ask Jay what had happened. He’d think back to that day in 2008 that felt like a fever dream where he had seen Jay, but not his Jay, and he’d connect the dots. But until then, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was they were both here.
Jay would never be alone.