The Death of Saint Valentine

Fifty-two years ago, Mike told Billie he would stay with him forever. Billie, the young thing, couldn't help but believe the man. The thought made such perfect sense. The two had enough love to last twice that time, surely. They would survive the centuries with that love and never stop and never fear anything because each would always have the other to cling to.

But forever was ending.

Billie knew it just to look at the frail creature in bed, the one who had once been his energetic and romantic husband, who had once filled his head with a million fantasies of travel, of family, who had once made his mind go blank with a single kiss. Why did anything have to change? Why wouldn't he just get up? Why couldn't forever last one more day?

Billie pushed a tear out of his eye and squeezed his husband's hand gently. "You need to take your medicine," he reminded the man softly before turning to the pill box.

"I hate those pills. I got on just fine without them. Come lay with me." Mike's voice shook with the effort of speaking, but his conviction didn't falter. It never had, Billie thought.

"I will in a minute, baby. Here. Let me help you sit up."

"Don't need help," he mumbled, but he still clung weakly to his husband's shoulders as the man helped him sit. He leaned against the headboard, his breathing ragged. "Don't want 'em."

"Come on, Mikey." He held the pills up for him. "Take them, and I'll give you a kiss." A small bout of old, sick laughter from the other man brought a small smile to Billie's face, but the following coughing fit quickly dispersed it. "Relax. I'll help you."

Billie brought the pills to the other man's lips to save his shaking hands from trying, following with a glass of clear water. He couldn't help but remember that fifty-two years ago, those pills and water were cake and wine. And the kiss that followed was the one which celebrated that cemented promise of forever. But now, as he leaned closer to his husband, the other man's lips felt slow and clumsy, and for just a moment, it felt almost like a goodbye. Billie took in a long breath to steady himself and prevent more tears. This wasn't goodbye. He couldn't let it be.

Mike took no mind of the man's breath as his devoted husband lowered him to the bed. But he saw the little wells which Billie could no more easily hold back than the storm swirling outside. Billie wiped them away quickly, and Mike thought maybe he was imagining it. Or maybe he was forgetting. "What day is today?" he asked. Maybe he'd forgotten something. Maybe that was why his beautiful husband had tears in his eyes. All these years, and Billie was still beautiful.

"February fourteenth, baby." He forced a smile. "Happy Valentine's Day."

"Oh..." Mike frowned and reached a quivering hand to the other man's face. "I'm sorry I didn't get you a present."

Billie placed his hand over his husband's. "You're my present, Mikey." His voice shook. This was the first year Mike had gotten him nothing. The first year of their fifty-two together. Billie couldn't help but think, the last year of their fifty-two together. He closed his eyes as tears threatened yet again. He could remember a time when Mike would only pretend he'd forgotten to surprise him. When the tears' only cause would be joy. When Billie's heart threatened to burst with love in a way that made him shaky and giddy instead of bringing this clinging despair which gripped him now. How could he ever go on without his Micheal?

"You're sad," the sick man observed. "I hate that."

Billie shook his head. For once, he wished, could you please not notice? "I'm fine."

Mike patted the bed next to him. "Come lay with me." Billie felt powerless as his feet brought him around the bed to crawl in next to his unmoving husband. He came in closer, draping his arm over the man and resting his head on his chest. The heartbeat was still there. It was irregular, but it was there. Billie found it hard to listen to, for each skipped beat was a step closer to not beating at all, but he couldn't move away. How long did he really have left to be close to Mike? "You're beautiful, you know that?" It was the same sentence he'd said for years to make Billie smile, but now, that smile was racked with pain, and those old eyes shone with bitter tears. Billie lifted his head enough to kiss the man again, and another jolt of remorse shot through his body. It felt like another goodbye. He kissed him once more with the hope of becoming calmer, but there was no luck. All he could do was close his eyes again and rest his head once more to Mike's rising and falling chest.

"You don't have to tell me what's wrong," said the man. Billie felt his husband genuinely didn't know. But how could he tell him? How could he tell him that the man he'd been in love with for so long was decaying in front of him? That there was nothing he could do? He simply couldn't. "Just know I'm always here for you, okay?"

The final sentence induced a muffled sob from the healthier man. Always here for him. Always. Always. But nevermore.

Sob after sob filled the room as Billie finally let his tears flow out. Mike held him weakly, his own breathing becoming ever more ragged as he struggled to realize the source of Billie's grief. But Mike never would. The medicine was too strong for that, and sleep was calling. So as Mike's conciousness drifted, as his eyes finally closed, Billie lay next to his frail, dying husband, and he cried, and he wished with all his weak heart for one more day in forever.