Page 6 of When I'm Gone

I smile as I lean up and kiss him. He doesn’t seem mad anymore; it’s going to be okay. A fraction of the tension eases out of me.

Aaron Murphy looks good in a suit, I’ll give him that. With his salt and pepper hair and strong jaw, he looks handsome all the time, but he spends a lot of money on good suits and it shows.

I wouldn’t dare bring it up last night unprovoked, but Idon’t have to. When he’s about halfway through his breakfast, he looks up at me where I’m perched against the kitchen counter. “Last night was beautiful. I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you always show me how you feel about me when I need you to.”

That’s not what you were saying last night, I want to say, but I shut it down. This fucking bug is making me snappy. “I love you,” I say instead. My headache is back, but I try not to let it show. I don’t want to fight again; I’m still so tired.

“I love you too, Easton. My perfect little doll,” he coos.

I’m going to be sick again. Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with me? Should I ask him to make me a doctor’s appointment?

He grabs his to-go mug of coffee sitting next to the mug I’ve only managed a few sips of for myself, pecks me on the cheek, and is out the door before I’ve made up my mind. I barely make it to the sink in time once the door has shut.

Fuck, it’s going to be a long day.

~~~

Several hours later, when I’m conscious again, I peel my eyes open by sheer force of will and check my phone. It’s only mid-morning but the date catches my attention. My brother's birthday is in a week. A pang of longing hits me square in the chest. I don’t think about him often, but when I do, it’s agony. I was so sure that no matter what happened, I’d always have Brady. Him siding with my parents when they disowned me hurt worse than being on the streets at sixteen.

I’d never expected that out of him in a thousand years. It was just so confusing; I thought he knew I was gay. He brought his gay best friend home when I was getting bullied. Sure, I left out some details to avoid actually having to say I’m gay, but he knew. He knew. That’s why he brought Chase with him from Washington. Chase was out. We had a heart-to-heart; he patted me on the cheek and told me it would beokay before sending me inside to break the news to Mom and Dad.

Spoiler alert: it was very much not okay.

I shake my head to get rid of the bad memories. They’re best kept in a lockbox in the back of my mind where I can forget about them. I have Aaron. That’s what matters. He’s my family now.

Being sick is just making me feel weirdly nostalgic. That must be it. Brady may be a homophobic prick, but he used to take good care of me when I wasn’t feeling well. I don’t know how the same person that watched movies, curled up with me all day, completely unconcerned if I was contagious or not, can be the same one that cut me off without a word.

I’m sure I should eat, but I still don't have an appetite. I can’t say for sure if it’s because of the flu I have or because I’ve had a hard time eating for months now, but it’s still enough to annoy me.

Maybe I don’t have the flu. Maybe my body is just rejecting me. All I know is that I’m not well. But nothing is really that different as far as my life goes. We moved to Boston, and there’s no reason for me not to like it here. But that’s as far back as I can remember noticing something felt off.

That explains what possesses me to make a burner Instagram account lying in bed. Aaron suggested I delete my social media when he moved me in so that I didn’t torture myself checking up on people that didn’t care about me, but that seems like exactly the right thing to do with my already shitty mood. He won’t be home for hours, but a tendril of unease makes my skin feel clammy. He’d be so mad if he found out I was doing this, I can hear it now.Is it worth ruining the foundation we’ve built? You’re supposed to trust me to know what’s best for you, doll.

I’ll delete it when I’m done and he’ll never find out. I justhave to know. Brady’s username hasn’t changed, so at least that part is easy. He also has a public profile which is new. When I click on the most recent post, I could cry. It looks like he went with his friends to a fucking pride parade. He’s arm in arm with Chase, wearing a rainbow ally shirt. There’s five of them in the picture and none of them are looking at the camera, they’re too busy laughing at each other. He looks so fucking happy.

It doesn’t make any sense. How does he have openly queer friends? Do they know the day I came out was the last day he spoke to me? Was it just because I’m his brother? It’s fine to him if his friends suck dick but not his family? Or even worse. If the problem wasn’t that I’m gay, was his problem with what I did? Me?

I keep scrolling looking for answers. There’s several posts showing off views from his favorite hiking trails, one of him and Chase wearing jeans and dirty shirts taking sledgehammers to some ugly kitchen cabinets. I really wish Chase had gotten less attractive in the last four years but that couldn’t be any less true. He’s filled out more since he was twenty, the T-shirt he’s wearing is stretched tight over his sculpted chest and is thin enough to show the dark outline of tattoos, making my mouth water. He’s still got the same inky black hair and the prettiest pale eyes I’ve ever seen.

I stare at that picture longer than I probably should before I continue my quest for answers. The first real clue into his life I get is when I see him at a charity event wearing a company shirt. I make a mental note of the name but it doesn’t ring a bell.

My throat closes up when I see that a year ago, he bought a house. It doesn’t look like he’s gotten married or even has a steady girlfriend, but missing out on his life fucking stings. I keep going until I see his college graduation photo.

Once again, he’s got an arm around his best friend, bothwearing icy blue caps and gowns. His life is filled with amazing achievements, charity work, concerts, and great friends. It doesn’t line up at all.

Aaron showed me what he had to say about me when he just tried to reach out and let Brady know I was safe and off the streets and how to contact me. His words haunt my nightmares. I cried myself sick for days after.

I just want answers.

Aaron should be taking his lunch break soon, I’m half tempted to call him, even if just to hear him say he loves me. But he’ll know something is wrong if I talk to him like this. With last night still fresh, I’d really rather not get into an argument, and that’s what it will devolve into if I can’t get my act together. Instead, I close the app, toss my phone under the pillow and close my eyes. I just need an extra five minutes.

Rough hands grab me by the neck, ripping me from unconsciousness before I can make heads or tails of what’s going on. I try to blink my surroundings into focus, but it comes slowly.

My first thought is maybe the apartment got broken into.

My second is a lot more sobering, but it doesn’t occur to me until the grip tightens and I’m slung out of bed and slam into the hardwood.

Aaron is home.

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