The Ghost of You

Gabriel can't stand to move from the bed. It's bad enough that one side is (continuously) made; he's unable to bring himself to mess it up for a small amount of comfort. He barely (never) ever touches William's side of the bed.
And when he goes in the bathroom, grabbing his lonely toothbrush from the holder- it kills him.
He sits on one side of the couch, eats at one side of the table, and uses up only half of the window seat when he smokes. William used to sit there across from him, staring at the smoke curling against the stars with his knees pulled to his chest. The pieces of broken glass in the sky are comforted, softened by the second-hand smoke, William used to think as he sat there. The same way he was comforted by Gabriel's warmth right across from him. The potential thought of having arms wrapped around him at night. William would shiver with a soft smile, shaking his head at questions thrown at him. He wouldn't tell, but the best part of the night would be when Gabriel would whisper "I love you" on his ear to make his insides warm.

But now Gabriel sits blankly at the window, and there's no one to watch the stars reject the blanket of smoke or tell him he's going to get cancer.
He'd rather cancer.
He forgot how nauseated he gets when he's in physical pain, but the memory was shoved back into his stomach as he doubles over in the bathroom.
There are times when he wants to go visit William, when his heart is going through such a withdrawal that he can barely move from the bed.

"Baby, I've- I need you so bad. Please tell me I'm going to be okay, that this feeling won't last forever and you'll be smiling at me in the morning. The morning when I'll open my eyes and see you- Really see you, with the sunlight catching your hair and… I just- I need you so bad," Gabriel whimpers pathetically against the pillow, aching for someone to say the words back. Hear the voice- anything.
Sunsets on flutter black-polished ocean lines. This is the folding, the edges of the world keeping their place in a good book. He curls up inside of himself; ache ringing out through his entire body. Fingers clutch the fabric- this is pain he's never felt before but keeps inside every minute of every hour in every day.
He wrote a song for the boy, once, twice. A million times.
Notebooks filled with love lines hurting in scratches that resemble less like letters and more like broken hearts.

"Make me tea," William had said, hanging off the back of the couch with his chestnut curls framing his face. His thin arms were crossed under his chest as he smiled at Gabriel. The man looked up from his notebook, uncrossing his legs as he set it on the desk.

"Only pussies drink tea," Gabriel said back with a Cheshire grin to match his boyfriend's, "You're not a pussy- oh, wait."

William scowled, "Fuck you, Gabriel." The older man came over to the couch but by now the boy had turned back around, staring at the silent TV

"Mi amor," he sings softly, "Come on, you're not mad. You aren'tthat touchy." William rolled his shoulders carelessly, flipping his hair over one shoulder with a swift movement. Gabriel bit his tongue at how feminine the action was. Instead, his hands came forward, rubbing gently at the boy's shoulders. "Don’t be mad at me."

"I'm not," William said, a smile evident in his voice even if Gabriel wasn't facing him, "I can't be mad at a five year old stuck in a 30 year old's body."

Gabriel hadn't realized just how much memories could defeat him. He tries to make the visits, he does, but it's not the same.
His William isn't there- it's just the boy, not the soul and not the smile. Not the laughter or the lovemaking, nor the bitten lips or words flowing from his fingertips to transfer into melodies from his throat. Gabriel closes his eyes, leaning his head against the wall with Almost Here playing in the stereo. Victoria told him not to, but it's hard to go each day without hearing the other's voice.
If he logs onto YouTube, it's a different story- he can't bear to see the smile, hear the laughter or witness thin arms going around his own body years ago when they toured together.
William doesn't remember things on the best of days.
He doesn't remember his name, his birthday, his mother, sister or how he likes his tea. He doesn't know where he lives, or why he's got so many scars.
The worst thing is that he doesn't remember Gabriel.

"You've dated prettier girls," William says softly, staring out the window. Strong arms are pliant around his waist, sliding around his body like a familiar blanket of comfort. He's never felt safer.

"You're the prettiest little white girl I've ever been with," Gabriel says with a smile on William's ear. At first, the boy jerks his elbow back roughly to jab into the other's chest but then he relaxes with a short, amused laugh. "You're the only one I've ever been in love with," he then whispers and William didn't think his heart could be anymore full or his head any more empty, completely giving to the other, but it happens as he closes his eyes.

"I love you too," William murmured even if it wasn't implied. Tilting his head back, he leans to the side so Gabriel's kiss can be pressed against his smile.

"At least talk to Courtney. She loves you. She knows what it's like to lose William." Gabriel's never lost a sibling, but he can imagine how horrible it must feel. He was there, watching Courtney's legs give out in the emergency room. She had screamed, crying- twisting in everyone's arms but his. He'd be the closest thing to William. When Gabriel held her, she sobbed into his shoulder, her whole soul breaking inside her chest and bleeding out through incoherent, desperate words.
She stayed with him for a week.
Together, they visited William every day to try and jog his memory, but it never worked.

"She lost her brother," he says weakly.

"She lost her best friend and the only person who understood," Victoria finishes his sentence softly, "You have to go see him. See Court, maybe even Riley. His mother. You can't stay in your apartment and grieve over someone you haven't lost."

"I did lose him," the man argues back as he pulls the vodka from the freezer. Mixers no longer even register in his mind as he twists the bottle open, "I think that the fact that he doesn't know me is a really, really great way of showing that I've lost him. It's the same thing as if he were dead. It's not Billvy. It's just…" his voice gives out as he sits in the middle of the floor. What's the point?
Victoria's fingernails make an impatient tap-tap-tap against the counter as she stands over the dinner she had been making for her and Ryland. Gabriel can hear it.

"You can't just wither away because of this," Victoria says in a understanding, but firm voice, "You just can't. I've gone to see him, but even if he doesn't remember me, it's still William. It's his smile, his voice and his laugh. He isn't gone, Gabe, it's still William."

"It's not my William," Gabriel chokes back before ending the call.

Fingertips wrote love on his bare skin, bodies tangled under thin sheets of a hotel bed. William watched with a flitting smile on his face, a small giggle bubbling up when kisses were pressed against his most ticklish spots.

"What're you doin', Gabey?" The boy asked sleepily. His body was aching from the show, muscles screaming from the sex and the bed was dragging him under so quickly he couldn't take a breath.

"I wanna remember every inch of this body," Gabriel murmured back, lips brushing against William's navel before his tongue dipped in. It was nothing close to sexual- they'd gotten their fill and right then it was all out of love. William's fingers trailed promise through Gabriel's short, curling hair as the man kissed every patch of skin to be committed to memory.

William thinks they're too young, too fresh in this journey for his sudden, "I could do this for the rest of my life."

Gabriel hesitates with his touching but only to say, "I could too," with a smile.

The nurse at the hospital gives him the worst look of pity when he tells her who he's there for. Victoria's fingers are linked in his, yet he can barely feel her. With each step towards the room, his body goes numb. His free hand is at his chest, trying to feel if his heart is still beating, but his fingers get distracted with peeling the edge of his visitor's pass.

"I can't do this," he whispers suddenly, staring at the open door. Victoria looks up at him, reaching to frame his face with warm hands.

"He's still here," she whispers, "You love him. You have to make this work. If he can't remember you, make him fall in love with you all over again. It's not going to take much to spark that up again, Gabey-"

"Don't call me that," the man whispers, his voice shaking already, "Please don't, Vic." She stands there with him, her eyes searching his face as her fingers rub gently into his cheekbones. She can nearly feel the misery seeping from his skin, the vines twisting out to grab her.

"Want me to come with you?" Victoria asks.
Gabriel shakes his head. It feels too tight for him to breathe as he nears the door, his hands empty and alone. Instead, he shoves them into his pockets, staring at the room. There's a boy sitting on a plain bed, reading a book. His hair is long and curled, tucked behind his ears as he concentrates. There are pockmarks under his lip as he sinks his teeth into the familiar but unknown gesture. He does it subconsciously, but isn't sure why.

His head snaps up when he hears Gabriel's sharp intake of breath. The man feels overwhelmed suddenly as bright eyes (not William's eyes) look up at him.

"Hi," the boy says cautiously. The other has to take a moment, feeling his heart race, his legs nearly give out. He can feel himself moving forward, taking the boy's shoulders in hand and shaking him- 'Remember me! Please!' but instead, he wonders where he can sit.

"Hey, Bill." The boy smiles unsurely as Gabriel pockets his hands, feeling awkward. "Do you know who I am?" Gabriel asks in a quiet voice, deciding that the chair is the safest place. William stares at the other man with wide, blank eyes. He shakes his head after a moment. That's the most unsettling part of all of this; the way he can't place a name to a face, or a face to memory.

"No," the boy says and he tilts his head to the side, "Should I?"

Gabriel wrings his hands together, clearing his throat, "I was here a few weeks ago."

"They said I had an accident so I c-c-can't remember stuff," William replies, frowning at his stutter, "But I don't feel any different from yesterday." Gabriel manages a weak smile, dropping his gaze to the floor. Dreams are welling inside of his chest, withering him from the inside out. He can't take any of those nights back as easily as the other.
Does he know what he's lost?

"It wasn't yesterday," he murmurs, "It was months ago. It was my fault."

"Who exactly are you?" is the immediate demand.

"I'm your fiancé, or- well, I was," comes the easy reply from Gabriel's trembling lips, his tongue sticking the roof of his mouth and he'd give anything for William to call him 'Gabey' again, "We had an accident. There was another car- he was drunk, and… I wasn't watching. I was…" He closes his eyes, "I was watching you. I had just proposed and you were looking at your ring like it held the answer to life. It was- it was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Still. I think about that look on your face when I go to sleep and when I wake up."

"What happened?"

"We were stopped at a red light. And," Gabriel's heart aches as he explains the story- the same tale he's held in his mind, he's had to remember to let it haunt him at night, "You were looking at it. You were so happy, talking about our- our family that we'd have. I remember you saying you wanted a boy first," Gabriel's voice drops into a broken whisper as his face twists a wry smile, "But that's all I remember. I have your ring, though. They gave me that in the hospital," the man chokes on the word as he looks at William. The blank slate of the other's face nearly breaks him.

"It must be so hard," the boy whispers, "Seeing me like this when I don't know you. And you love me. You do, right?" The other nods, swallowing tears as he stares at the floor. Anything to stop the onslaught of crying he's tried to stop the past few months with liquor and drugs.

"I love you so much, Billvy." The boy tilts his head, but easily figures out the nickname, "You're all I can think about. I miss you so much, I can't- I just can't live without you. This is all I have left, a ghost of my lover, a shell…"

"Gabe," William says in a gentle, sad voice, "Why haven’t you come see me before?"

"I have," Gabriel replies and that's what breaks his spine, his heart and his composure. His insides all break at once; he doubles over in the chair, hands coming up to cover his face. Shoulders racking with sobs- he's completely wrecked, breaking down in a hospital room with the ghost of his lover staring at him sympathetically. There's a thin, calm hand (he's held that hand, kissed the fingertips!) on his back, rubbing gently to try and soothe a stranger. They're strangers now.
"I have," he says again, choking, "But you always forget."

"You're old," Gabriel finally concluded to the dark one night as he lay next to his boyfriend. After a daylong back-and-forth fight, he'd waited for this, his last comment.

"You're older," William retorted sleepily, his comeback quick- catty, even, for being half-out of it and Gabe shut up real fucking fast. They lay there silently in the dark. William was waiting.
Suddenly, arms wrapped around his waist and he relaxed, his face melting into a tired smile as their bodies fit together like they had for years. It was a familiar love.

Fingers tangled in his and William vowed to never forget the way their hands felt or how Gabriel's voice lilted on his ear in a drowsy and slow, "I love you, querido."