Part the Sky

I was counting the mile signs and wondering how much distance Gideon thought we needed to get over our history.

I imagined that we could pull a cross-country road trip, twice, and still be in the same place where we started.

I shouldn’t be here in the car with him. There wasn’t enough space between us, or room for me to walk away. I was stuck beside him and only he could change that.

I was willing to take the blame for a lot. For the nights when I felt so empty that I couldn’t help but try to fill my voids with Gideon. Those nights had been so simple at the time; I never would’ve thought they’d create something that was now too complicated to navigate.

I glanced at Gideon. He didn’t notice, distracted, with his hand propping his head up as it rested on the open window. The sun was just beginning to set, giving him shadows that weren’t normally there. I had to stop myself from looking at him because he was beautiful and I hated myself for thinking so.

“You’re looking at me,” he said, his eyes darting my way before returning to the road.

“I’m just looking. Not looking at you, specifically,” I responded.

He swerved around a ramp suddenly, and I slid, unexpectedly, down the seat towards him. Some part of my arm touched his and it sent me jolting back towards the door.

“Jesus,” he hissed at me, turning slightly to give me a heated glare. “Touching me repulses you that much, huh?” he snapped bitterly.

My stomach was crampy and I felt nauseous. Of course touching Gideon wasn’t awful, not the way he made it sound, at least. It was awful to want those things, to want him, and he didn’t see that. Everything was so strictly yes or no, all or nothing, with him.

I tried to make him understand. Really, I did. Just because I couldn’t be with him the way he wanted didn’t mean we were done being friends. He was still Gideon, my best friend, my favorite person. Even if we were constantly having the same fight now.

When I’d finally called it quits, told him I didn’t want to talk about us anymore, that I refused to talk about us, Gideon had done this. We hadn’t seen each other in a few days, since a big blow up at our spot.

So he'd come over tonight, catching me as I was getting home from work. Like our other conversations, it went south quickly and we had it out on my front lawn. That is until my mom came out and yelled at us for giving the neighbor’s a spectacle.

Gideon apologized to my mom (he was always a kiss-ass when it came to my parents) and went silent. If were ten years old again I was sure he would’ve started crying but he’d learned to control that so instead he said, “Let’s talk in my car.” Stupid ass me thought that’d be a good idea.

I didn’t want to talk to Gideon about it. I had a hard time keeping the whole thing out of my head as it stood. I got into the truck thinking we would finally put this whole thing to rest.

“You need to let this thing go. We’re best friends. And that’s not going to change. I don’t want it to change. We can forget about everything else, pretend it never happened or whatever, and go back to the way things were before,” I had said.

Gideon flipped the fuck out, turning the ignition so hard that it stalled momentarily before it kicked in. He had the thing thrown into gear before I could register I was being driven off with.

“Pretend it never happened,” he had repeated back to me, his tone, somehow, more than angry. Offended, maybe, suited it better. “You’re un-fucking-believable, you know that? I mean, I know you’re balls deep in denial but you can really just turn off all of our history? Just like that? Go back to before like it all never happened?”

I didn’t respond, clenching down on my jaw angrily so I wouldn’t, didn’t, say something I would regret.

Gideon drove off down the road, and I didn’t realize what he was doing until we passed our usual exits, farther than we really went on a daily basis. We’d always joked about taking off into night, back when things were simple and I never really questioned what we were doing.

But the idea of being locked in a car with Gideon, driving into nowhere, made my whole body seize up, distinctly, with dread and excitement. And that was what was most nauseating about it, how the little space between us made me want even less space.

His car was an old pick-up, passed down to him from his father. It was a manual, too, so he wasn’t permitted to drive it until he could expertly shift through the gears. He turned sixteen before me, got the hang of it pretty quickly, and became surprisingly good at shifting, particularly when drunk.

He tried to teach me but the whole using both feet concept went over my head. I wasn’t a great driver, if I was telling it like it was. My ma said I had my head in the clouds too much, didn’t focus on the road the way I should. I sort of blamed that on Gideon; if I was driving with him in the car it was hard not to get distracted.

Not that it really mattered. I didn’t do much without Gideon and he didn’t mind driving, especially with his truck. Whether we had plans or not, we always ended up parked out in a field somewhere, drinking and smoking in the back until we passed out.

It was a hook-up truck, partially the reason why Gideon wanted it and partially the reason his father gave it to him. It had one flat front seat, with little separating the driver from the passenger. In fact, I could cross the distance with a short stride and climb into his lap if I wanted to (and I had, on many occasion).

It was stupid to think we could do what we were doing without it affecting everything else, without it all getting tremendously complicated. Even if I didn’t want it to be complicated – wanted for our friendship to return to what it was, I knew it wouldn’t. And I had a sinking feeling that Gideon was going to make me choose, and that I was going to lose him, for good, which was sad because we were friends first.

We were in a fighting silence, which we barely got into but when we did they could go on for hours. I was too stubborn to say anything I was thinking (and there was a lot) and Gideon had a habit of mirroring. Even if he wasn’t the one who was mad, he would be just because I was. Not that I was mad, nor that Gideon was mimicking me. In fact, I was pretty sure Gideon was angry all on his own and ignoring me for that reason alone.

And while I did have a lot to say, I didn’t know where to begin. I didn’t want to bring up anything that had happened and really just wanted to move on from it all.

“You can’t just drive off with me into the night,” I told him, my tone testy as I crossed my arms. It was a lie, and a sad one at that. I was sure that my mother wouldn’t even blink an eye to my whereabouts, a consequence of being with Gideon. She trusted him more than she trusted me.

But I wanted to make it clear I was not on board with this whole thing. I was hoping that he was getting ready to turn around but he continued heading north.

It was steadily getting darker giving us barely any light, just enough so that I could look over and see him fumbling with a pack of cigarettes sitting on the cushion between us as he tried to maneuver his way across the lanes.

I reached over, more out of habit than a willingness to help him, and pulled a cigarette out holding it out to him. He glanced at me, briefly, before he let me place it in his mouth. All the times that I’d done it before had seemed so noncommittal but there was nothing but underlying messages as I did it now. It made me want to chop my hands off and never use them again.

Normally, I’d pick up the lighter and do that for him, too; instead, I tucked my hands between my knees and angled myself so I could look out the window. I heard him mutter my name softly, just a quick, “Levi”.

Another mile or so into the drive, and I was itching for something. Noise. A distraction. Anything I could get, really. Reaching over, I turned the dial trying to find a station without static. I settled on some oldies punk rock station, my ears identifying the chorus of a Three Days Grace song.

The dynamics of the car didn’t change with the music. Gideon remained the same, head tilted towards the window as he smoked. It felt like some warped dream, a memory of us but skewed enough that it was a nightmare, too. He reached out, holding his hand with the cigarette out to me.

I was too tense, too jacked up on nerves, to decline it, but the act was far too familiar for me, reminiscent of our previous relationship. When I reached for it, he pulled it out of my reach. Rolling my eyes, I leaned towards him, let him hold the cigarette as I took a drag.

He watched me more than he watched the road and then said, “I won’t let you give us up.”

I shook my head. “You don’t have a say.”

“Fuck that, Levi,” he snapped returning his gaze to the road. His hands were tense as they gripped the wheel. “You think you can just forget everything that happened? You think you can just forget all those nights?”

“Don’t,” I responded, voice hauntingly flat.

“You think you can forget what you said? How it felt?”

“I will throw myself out of a moving car before I have this conversation with you.”

He stopped then, fixing his jaw tightly, returning us to a complacent silence. The sun fell completely, leaving us with nothing but the headlights of the cars passing on the other side of the barrier.

I grew restless and started tapping my fingers on my knees, watching the trees and skyline whirl past through the window. We were driving fast, now, but everything else felt slow. We were maybe on the road an hour when Gideon got off at a rest stop. “Go on,” he said after he parked and we sat for a moment. “I know you have to piss.”

I made an aggravated sound. I wanted to tell him to not notice those things about me. Just stop it, because it didn’t make things easier. I didn’t say it though because it would only open the floor to that conversation, which wasn’t what I wanted. Instead, I grabbed the door handle and shoved my shoulder into it. It stuck sometimes and needed an extra push to get it open.

Hopping down from the cab, I walked off without a word to Gideon.

The rest stop didn’t appear in use when I first got up to it. We were pretty much in the middle of nowhere off the highway so it wasn’t one of the big stops with a food court and stuff. Just a small, rundown building I wasn’t even sure was going to be open.

It looked like someone had busted the lock on the door. I walked in and had to turn on the flashlight on my phone to see. Shocked at what I was seeing, I almost shut the flashlight off but was even more scared of what I wouldn’t see. The place was covered in graffiti. Names written boldly across the stall doors and tiled walls. The bathroom was rundown completely, confirming my suspicions about whether it was open to the public. Lewd drawings obscured the urinals.

I jumped as a rat scattered from its hiding spot under the sink into a hole in the wall by the door. “Jesus,” I muttered quietly before I picked a urinal to do my business and get out of there.

As I was leaving, I noticed a pile of spray cans on the floor of the last stall. Curious, I checked them to see if any were full. There was one, a bright pink that reminded me of Barbie. It was like fairy pink. Fitting, my subconscious mused.

Finding an empty space to tag was harder. The wall jutted by the door and there was enough space on it to fit my name and Gideon’s. I thought if everything else crashed and burned at least we’d be together somewhere, even if it was a dirty wall in a rundown rest stop. Gideon would love it; he lived for this kind of shitty art. Every chance he could get he’d take us into the city just to look at street art.

“Levi?”

Mother of –

“I’m coming,” I snapped quickly stepping into the doorway. I’d only cracked the door when I entered so I pretty much obscured the bathroom’s view. If things were different, I’d had run to get Gideon to show him. He really would love something like this. But now? No, what I just did would hurt him more than anything.

And I hated hurting him more than anything. It sucked but I couldn’t stop being me anymore than earth could stop moving in it’s orbital. And just by being me I hurt Gideon. It was sad because I loved him as a friend, first.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, trying to peek behind me.

I shrugged, shaking my head. “Nothing. Nothing.”

He eyed me and as hard I tried to keep my face passive, he read something there in my expression that had him forcing his way in and yanking my phone out of my hand to use my flashlight. I reached up, rubbing my head in anticipation for the fight that would naturally ensue.

“So you just weren’t going to show me this?” he said his tone bitter but quiet. He flashed the light on the wall with the sinks and I leaned back into the shadows, watching him take it all in. He’d appreciate it more than I did. I knew he would. I just hoped he wouldn’t notice my addition. But that would be hard since it was in bright fucking fairy pink.

I dropped my hands to my sides, defeated, and felt something in my pocket, and a moment of overwhelming relief washed over me. I’d rolled a joint during my break on shift but hadn’t had a chance to smoke it. Initially, I’d been annoyed that I had to finish my shift at Winky’s with nothing but a fading Valium in my system.

But god bless, I had it now and since there was nowhere to go in this situation, nowhere but up, I didn’t see the problem in smoking a little to take the edge off. Stepping out, I reached into my pocket retrieving a small baggie with the joint tucked inside.

I had only taken a couple of hits when I was knocked in the face, dropping my joint in the process as I looked to see Gideon standing there fuming. “What the fuck!” I cried, reaching for my lip. It wasn’t too bad, he had tiny fists, but it still fucking hurt. “You busted my lip, you asshole.”

Gideon’s chest was rising and falling quickly. “How dare you,” he snapped.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Gideon?” I asked bending to pick up my joint, dust it off, and put it back in my mouth.

“I’m talking about our names on the bathroom wall in BRIGHT fucking pink, you asshole.” He shook his head, turning away from me slightly. “I fucking hate you so much it hurts.”

“Yeah okay,” I found myself barking back before I could stop myself.

“No, yeah you’re right. I don’t fucking hate you. That’s the best fucking part.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re killing my buzz.”

Gideon was outraged. Screaming, “KILLING?” “YOUR?” “FUCKING?” “BUZZ?” as he ripped the joint out of my hand and stomped it into the dirt. With each word he made another foot movement. I stared at him, so angry I couldn’t even speak. “All you do is fuck me over, Levi!” he cried shoving me. “And I’m speaking figuratively and literally, here.”

I shoved him back. “Shut up, Gideon.”

“Oh no,” he flipped his hair back, leering at me, “you don’t want to hear that, do ya’?”

“I mean it, Gideon,” I said between gritted teeth.

His expression softened around his eyes, and mouth, as he lifted his chin to me. His lips were shiny and red like he spent the whole ride sucking on them. But there was still something off about the glint in his eyes. He wasn’t through pushing this. “Oh Levi, uh uh,” he moaned his voice eerily close to the exact thing. I could see us naked and panting and clinging to each other like two oxygen molecules. “Don’t stop, don’t stop right there baby.”

I pushed Gideon, hard, harder than I had wanted when he hit the ground and looked up at me with nothing but shock. Only for a minute though, because then he was up and tackling me to the ground before I could even apologize. Not that I was going to. He kind of deserved it.

We were throwing fists at each other but none of them landed hard. It was more a fight for dominance as we rolled on the cement into the grass. I didn’t think we’d stop wrestling each other, we were both too stubborn, until Gideon pinned me to the ground and kissed me rough enough that our teeth clanked and my busted lip felt even more busted.

I shoved against him, gearing up to head-butt him. But he pulled away, not loosening his grip but giving me space to breathe or attempt to find my breath. The kiss might’ve been brief but there was no shortage of feeling.

“So that’s it, then?” he said quietly. I pushed him off, suddenly so pissed I could choke him. I growled unable to form words and started for the car. “Yeah you walk away!” Gideon called after me. “Just like you always do.”

I stopped, turning around and walking right back over to Gideon. “Fucking fuck you Gideon.”

“You already have,” he snapped his eyes squinting hard at me. “You do realize that was what we were doing, right? You’re able to wrap your pretty little head around that?” We might’ve been fucking before, but not the last time. No. It definitely hadn’t been fucking.

I glared at him, not knowing what to say but feeling like there was so much that needed to be addressed. My fists were clenched at my sides and it was taking all my strength not to knock the lights out of him.

“Levi,” his voice was suddenly quiet, weak, “please.”

I shook my head. “I’m not a fag. I don’t know what you want from me.”

He reached out, grabbing my arms pulling them so they were between us. “You don’t have to be a fag. You can still be with me.”

“Not like that. Not the way you want.”

“You want it too!”

“No. I don’t.”

“You begged me for it, Levi.”

I pulled my arms out of his grip, closed the distance between us until we were chest-to-chest. Our height was close to the same; Gideon was a head taller. But it felt like I was looming over him right now. “If you say another word about that night, mention one more detail, that’ll be it, Gideon. I’ll be done with you – for good. No more of,” I waved a hand in the air, “any of this.”

He stared back at me and I knew some part of him wanted to challenge my threat but another part of him, a smarter part, stopped himself. Defeated, he dropped his shoulders and walked past me, back to the car. I waited a minute, edgy and anxiety-ridden before I followed after him.

If the ride before was silent, I didn’t know what it was now.

A few hours passed with nothing happening. I’d been hoping again he’d just drive us back home but he kept pushing north. I didn’t think he had a clue where he was going but he was dragging me along with him. I wished we could’ve delayed that fight maybe ten more minutes so I could finish my joint, but that was lost now.

I was itching with nerves again, shaking my one leg as I tapped out a rhythm on my knee. A nervous habit, I guess.

Gideon pulled off the highway into a 24-hour diner and glanced at me like he wanted to say something, but didn’t. I almost asked him what but I was still pretty pissed about the course our last conversation took and decided against it.

Inside, the diner was pretty empty. It was late so that didn’t surprise me any. An older woman with bright curly blonde hair and more pink lipstick on her teeth than her lips smiled at us as she popped some gum, and said, “Booth or table, gentlemen?”

Gideon wasn’t going to answer so I just shrugged my shoulders. “Okay,” she said her voice kind of raspy but somehow high-pitched, too. She led us to a booth by the windows and handed us menus. “I’m Diane. I’ll be your waitress for the night. Our specials today are spicy chicken soup, spicy chicken pot pie, spicy chicken avocado salad, anddddddd,” she paused, “lemon cake.”

“Sounds spicy,” Gideon said flatly.

Stifling a laugh, I said, “I’ve got an allergy to spice.”

“And I’m on an all sugar no spice diet.”

Diane didn’t miss a beat. “You boys ought to have some respect towards the person serving your food.” She pointed at us with her pen.

Gideon looked up at her. “Sorry mam. It’s been a long night.”

“I can see that,” she responded calmly. “You both look like you hitchhiked here from the damn mountains. Aint it a little late for you two to be out?”

“We’re on the last leg of our trip home,” I told her not looking at Gideon.

“Well, let me start you both off with some coffee. Go ahead and read through the menu.” She skirted off before either of us could respond, coming back a moment later with two mugs and a coffee pot.

“Did one of you’s get sprayed by a skunk?” she asked her tone confused as she looked between us.

I gave her a closed-mouth shake of my head. She shrugged like it didn’t matter anyway and then walked off. I lifted the menu, allowing it to obscure my vision of Gideon and tried to find something appetizing to eat. I didn’t even want to think about why Gideon had stopped at the diner, how he knew I was hungry.

He said something quietly, and at first I wasn’t sure he was talking to me or to himself. “Hm?” I asked dropping the menu slightly so I could look at him.

He dropped his menu, too, settling his gaze on me. His eyes were red-rimmed and glassy. “I said, I don’t want to fight with you anymore.”

I didn’t know what this meant. Was he agreeing with me? Were we going to forget everything that had happened and finally move on? “Okay,” I responded calmly even though I felt the opposite.

He dropped his eyes, repeating back to me, “Okay.” I thought about those two characters from the cancer movie. How stupid those characters were to think anything could be forever. How stupid we were to think we could go on like that forever. Okay is not forever. Forever is not forever. Everything has a shelf life.

Diane returned. I ordered a BLT and cheese fries, and Gideon a sausage and egg on a roll. Neither of us touched the coffee. Neither of us said anything. My mom texted me and asked me if I was coming home or sleeping at Gideon’s so I texted her back and told her Gideon’s, unsure if that was even true.

We ate our food in silence. Sipped our coffees in silence. Paid in silence. Counted out a tip in silence. Then left in silence.

Just when I thought we were going to end this trip, in silence, Gideon turned to me and said, “I need to take a nap before we head back.”

I nodded. Gideon climbed into the cab but I didn’t join him, knowing if I did I’d fall asleep too, and it’d be just like before, both of us exchanging body heat as our breaths slowed and dreams enclosed on reality. Nope. Couldn’t have that. I climbed into the back of his truck, leaning against the outside of the cab.

There was a small window there and I looked in to see Gideon lying on the seat, his jacket bundled up as a pillow. He’d probably be asleep for an hour. I knocked on the window and he sat up hesitantly, turning to look at me. I gestured for him to open the window. He did. “Can I have a cigarette?”

Nodding, wordlessly, he looked around the truck before he found the pack and handed it to me. “Thanks.” We stared at each other and there was so much I wanted to say but none of them worked. “Get some sleep.”

“I only need fifteen minutes or so,” he responded but I didn’t believe him and wasn’t going to wake him in fifteen minutes. He lied back down and I lit a cigarette, leaning back so I could stare up at the sky as I smoked.

Time moved too slowly and I got restless too quickly. Chain-smoking didn’t help. But I did notice a liquor store across the highway, and thought what could it hurt. There was nowhere to go but up at this point. I checked in on Gideon – he was still fast asleep – and then crossed the highway to the store.

“Sup man,” I said when I entered and the cashier looked at me with a dead flatness. He grunted and went back to staring at his iPhone. I looked around the store like I had some specific taste I was trying to find but really I just wanted the cheapest thing that was going to me the drunkest fastest.

I settled for three bottles of Olde English 800 and brought them to the counter. The cashier was still focused on his phone. He said, “ID.”

I handed him my fake. He glanced at it, glanced at me, clearly knew it was a fake and then went, “Ten bucks.” He was stiffing me but I didn’t really give a shit since he was letting me get my alcohol. I handed him a tenner as he put them in a black bag.

“Thanks,” I said flatly before I grabbed the bag and left. There was a bench outside the place, so I sat down and opened a bottle. Maybe I’d win an award for world’s quickest leap from 0 to 100 on the drunken scale.

I was halfway through a second bottle when screaming from the other side of the highway broke my stupor. I slipped the bottle back into the bag and stood up slowly. This was the best idea. I felt a thousand times better now.

Gideon was out of the car and screaming shit I could only half hear. Stumbling, I started back across the highway. Lights were shining on the pavement, and Gideon was still screaming. “I can’t hear you!” I called back.

My voice was drowned out by the sound of a car honking. I tore off unthinkingly, climbing over the divider just as the car drove by me. I might not have needed the alcohol then since adrenaline was doing enough for me. But the combination was intoxicating.

Gideon was fuming; I could see it before I even finished crossing the highway. “What the fuck is wrong with you!” he cried when I was finally within earshot. He grabbed both my arms and shoved me up against the side of the truck. His face was dangerously close. I almost laughed.

“I got us something to drink,” I said voice soft and slurring.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Levi? You almost just DIED.”

“Don’t be dramatic.” He grabbed the bag from me wailing it across the parking lot. I, distantly, heard the glass shatter. “Gideon!” I yelled. “Why the hell would you do that? I spent ten bucks on that shit.”

“You’re un-fucking-believable, you know that?”

I wasn’t even going to fight him on this one. I had my buzz and that was all I had been looking for. He couldn’t ruin what was already in me. I reached out to him, running my hand down his cheek. “Don’t be upset. I’m fine.”

“No,” he yanked away, “no. Not this fucking drunk bullshit again. I’m not doing this with you.”

I grabbed the collar of his jacket and pulled him closer. “It’s what you want.”

He tried to pull away but I held onto him tightly. He kept shaking his head, avoiding my gaze as he said, “I don’t want you drunk.”

“It’s all the same.” I shrugged.

“It isn’t the same!” He pushed away from me, pacing the ground with his hand working through his hair. He suddenly threw his arms my way, going, “What drunk Levi does, sober Levi feels like shit about.”

I shook my head. “I don’t feel like shit about what we did. And we weren’t drunk when it happened.”

“Oh, now you want to talk about it? That’s just fucking great.”

I frowned. “It meant something to me.”

“I know. I know that Levi. But you don’t! Or at least you won’t admit it. Not when you’re fucking sober.”

“I’m not that drunk,” I whined.

Gideon sighed, shook his head a couple of times, and then started pushing me towards the back of the truck. “Get in. I’ll get you some coffee.” He walked away before I could protest, so I did what he asked me to, climbing in and returning to my spot against the cab.

A few minutes later he returned and climbed into the back with me, sitting beside me with a to-go cup in his hand. “Drink it. Drunk you is already annoying me.”

“You’d think you’d like drunk me.” Gideon didn’t disagree and it felt like an opening so I leaned over and kissed him. He pulled away before anything went anywhere, shaking his head.

“I’m not putting myself through this with you anymore.”

I nodded. “Okay.” It was reasonable. But then I kissed him again because it was still good, drunk or sober, and maybe I just wasn’t hearing him. This time he didn’t stop me so I grabbed his face and held onto him. He kissed back with an urgency that I always recognized and appreciated.

I tongued his bottom lip, earning a soft moan as I climbed into his lap and tipped his head back. He had his hands in my hair, running his fingers from root to tip. I ground my pelvis against his and felt a response that I wasn’t going to ignore.

Dropping my hand from his neck, I lit a path down his shirt to his jeans. My hand slipped under his belt but Gideon grabbed my forearm, stopping me. He pulled away so I kissed his chin, under his chin, sucking lightly on his jawline. “This isn’t fair,” he said voice so small I almost didn’t hear it.

I thought for a minute he was crying. I pulled away from him, still in his lap but giving him space, now. He stared up at me, biting his lip, eyes drawn but clear of any tears. I lifted my hand from his waist and placed it on his chest. “I wish things were different.”

“I know,” he said solemnly.

“I,” my voice cracked, “I just really wish things were different.” He nodded, sliding me out of his lap as he got up. “Is that it? Are we done? We won’t be friends anymore?”

Gideon sighed, jumping down from the truck. His silence said so much. He lifted the gate, and shut it. “Do you mind sitting back here for a bit?” I shook my head. “Drink your coffee. I’ll take us home.”

It was another quiet ride but this time a wall separated us so all I could do was drink my coffee and smoke a cigarette as I sobered up and Gideon drove us home. We got off the highway a few hours later, taking the back roads into town. I knew the road; we’d spent so much time parked on the side, staring up at the sky.

Tonight wasn’t any different; it was freckled in stars, so small and so distant. I wanted to tell Gideon to pull over so we could lay down in the back and connect the dots one last time. For old time’s sake.

I turned slightly to the window and said, “Gideon, let’s stop and look at the stars.” He didn’t say anything so I turned completely, propping my face in the open window. “One last time. To close the door. Say good—.” I realized he was crying and that was why he wasn’t speaking.

Reaching forward to pat his shoulder, I said, “Gid—.” Lights and horn drowned my words, blinded me, happened so fast, I barely was able to cry as the truck swerved into our lane.

It was over as soon as it started.

I knew something was wrong because it wasn’t silent. A distant blearing resounded in my head and I couldn’t move, not at first. It wasn’t my first breath, I had to have been breathing before, but I took a sharp one, with a gasp, and it hurt. It hurt everywhere but each breath added a distinct addition of pain. I felt grass beneath me and was looking up into the star-littered sky.

My senses were slow. The lights. The horn. The truck.

Gideon.

I managed to sit up and look around, and, “No, no, no no no no.” I started crawling first, before I could get to my feet and run to the overturned truck. We were off the road, down a hill slightly, in the grass. Smoke billowed from the tractor truck that had hit us but it didn’t look nearly as wrecked as his truck did. It was dismantled, the front pushed in and the back twisted and dented. The windshield was gone and so was Gideon.

I whipped around, tried to find my voice as I screamed for Gideon. I saw him, some distance away, a melting figure in the grass and took off running with a kick of adrenaline I’d never felt before. “Gideon, Gideon, Gideon,” I kept saying as I fell to the ground beside him and lifted his head. “No, no no no no no. Please, oh god, no, please.”

There was so much blood. It was everywhere. And what did you do in situations like this? What did you do? “Please, oh god, no, please, Gideon.” His eyes opened slowly, and I didn’t know if I was hallucinating or not until he reached up and touched my face. “You’re okay,” I whispered as I slid on top of him, and he groaned. “Shh, shh, you’re okay, it’s okay. I love you. Please. Gideon. Oh god, I love you.” There was so much blood and the blearing sound, what did you do in this situation?

I kissed his face and pressed my body against his and said over and over, “I love you. I’m sorry. I should have said it sooner.”

“Levi?” He reached up again, his thumb rubbing against my cheek. I gripped his hand, held it tight and pressed my body weight against his.

“Yes, it’s me. You’re going to be okay.”

“I’m so cold,” he whispered, voice hoarse.

“I know, baby. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” I kissed his cheek, his nose, his lips that were wet with blood. “I love you. I’m so sorry. Oh god I’m so so sorry. It should never have been like this. I should’ve—Gideon please no, don’t do this, don’t go. No. No, no, no. Gideon? Please, please, god no.”

I knew something was wrong because there was bright lights and beeping sounds but nothing hurt. It felt safe, so I opened my eyes. Disoriented and foggy, it took me more than a second. It didn’t take long for my mother to hurdle into my line of sight, gripping my face and kissing it roughly.

Kissing faces.

Gideon.

Truck. Horns.

My voice croaked and my mother shushed me. “You’re okay, you’re okay.” I shook all over and my eyes were closed before I wanted to shut them.

The second time I opened them there wasn’t any light but the noises were still there. I wasn’t where I expected to be. My memory was faded, chipped and withered like I’d had a bad trip.

Stars.

Open road.

Lights. Horns. Truck.

Gideon.

I jolted and the memories flooded in fast. “Calm down, Levi,” a woman’s voice said that I didn’t recognize. Her cold hand lifted my face. “You’re getting worked up. Charlotte! Levi you need to breathe. You’re going to—he’s seizing! Get me 10 mL diazepam.”

Silence came down like a wave, and it was over.

It was dark when I came to, but not quiet. I didn’t expect it to be. I was more oriented this time, and slowly figured out what was going on. I knew I was in a hospital. I wasn’t in pain, but from the looks of the IV drip hanging beside me, it was probably the big guns keeping me in an almost hallucinogenic haze.

My memory was shit, coming back in small flecks. I kept seeing the night sky, and then it was Gideon. “No, no, no no no no.” It came back quickly. Everything. All of it. My body was heaving on the truth, and loud sobs pulled me up and keeled me over. “No,” I said over and over again. “No. He can’t be gone. No.”

The nurse was rushing in just as my heart monitor went bezerk. “Oh, Levi, please calm down. You need to calm down.” She sat down on the bed, and held my face. “Breathe. Come on. Deep breath in. Now one out. You can do this. Don’t work yourself up. That’s it…that’s it. Oh so much better.”

I was holding onto her forearms for dear life. “How long? How long has it been?”

She pulled away from my grip, and patted some of my hair down. “It’s been four weeks, sweetie. You’ve been in and out. Waking up just like this, hyperventilating and stressed. You keep exacerbating your head injury.”

“My what?” I reached up and touched my hair, or what was left of it. Half of it was gone, wrapped in thick gauze.

“Are you in pain?” she asked.

“Yes,” I told her honestly.

It was like she didn’t hear me. “Oh your mother, I have to call her. We sent her home. She was here every night. And your sister, too.” She was getting up, a smile on her face as she stared at me.

“Please. I’m in pain.” And I was.

The nurse left but another one returned and gave me a shot of morphine that knocked me out cold. I woke up with a wet face, tears staining my paper dress, and the pillow. My mother was there, and Victoria, my older sister. “Hi, hi sweetie. Don’t try to speak. It’s okay.”

“Shh, shh, you’re okay, it’s okay. I love you. Please. Gideon. Oh god, I love you.”

It came in waves, sadness and pain, pain and sadness. I couldn’t differentiate the feelings. Didn’t want to. I’d done this to us.

“When can I leave?” I said the next time I woke up. The pain was clearer so they must’ve lightened the drugs. My mother was where I’d left her, my sister too, both of them kneading their hands.

“Hush, Levi, you’ve just woken up.” She called the nurse. The nurse came, increased the morphine, and knocked me out.

It was hard to tell time when they kept knocking me out. Diazepam when I woke up dripping sweat, crying hysterically with the heart rate of a hummingbird. Morphine for when I was moaning in pain, still crying hysterically. It was easier at night, when my mom and sister went home, and I could see the stars from the window.

Jackie was my favorite nurse; she worked at night. She came in and said, “Want me to close that?” She pointed to the curtains. I shook my head. “You’ve been good.” She was looking at the heart monitor as she said that. “Your recovery is remarkable, Levi.”

“Do you have my morphine?” I asked quietly.

“Are you really still in that much pain? We might have to have the doctor look at you.” She sat down on the bed and looked at me levelly. “Where does it hurt?”

I pointed to my chest. “Here.”

She looked at me, quizzically. “You only sustained a few fractured ribs. They ought to have healed by now.” She reached over, lifting my gown, and palpating my chest. I didn’t flinch. “They’re fine.” Her stare hardened. “You haven’t been feeling any pain, have you?”

I couldn’t explain to her the pain I was in. The way my mind could not come to terms with the fact Gideon was gone. That he was dead. I was in so much pain it radiated outwards from my pores and made everyone a victim. “I shouldn’t be here,” I told her. “I should be with him. You should’ve let me die.”

“With who, honey?”

I started to say his name but it was hard. My face was wet with preemptive tears. Jackie handed me a tissue, but I didn’t pat my face dry. The tears dribbled down my chin, into the neckline of my hospital gown.

Finally, I said, “Gideon.”

She looked confused at first, and then she reached over and hugged me. “Oh honey, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” I started sobbing. It was more real than I expected, could cope with and I felt nauseous. “Hey, calm down. Come on. Do just like we worked on. One breath in. That’s it. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

“Please, please, stop telling me I’m okay.”

She pulled away from me, holding me back at arm’s length. “I thought someone had told you. You’ve been in and out so much, though, how could they? Your friend’s okay. Gideon’s alive.”

It was a lethal dose of shock and I almost couldn’t speak. “What?” I asked hesitantly, trying to figure out how to breathe again. “No, no, don’t lie to me. Lying won’t make me feel better. Don’t lie to me.”

“Levi, your friend is fine. All he does is ask about you. You saved his life. The paramedic’s found you lying on him. You were like a human tourniquet. They rolled you both in just like that on the stretcher.”

I still didn’t believe her, knew that the only way I would was if I saw him for myself. “I have to see him,” I said quickly.

She shook her head. “He’s been saying the same thing. You both are just too injured to be walking around the hospital. Y’know, he tried to bribe Charlotte to wheelchair him into your room.”

“Wait, what’s wrong with him? What happened?”

She paused, hesitated really. “He’s not one of my patients so I don’t know his case, but he does have a broken femur.”

“That’s your…?”

“Leg.”

“Right.”

She held up the vial of morphine. “So we don’t need this, do we?”

I stared at her seriously. “What I need is to see him, Jackie.”

She shook her head. “We’ve just gotten your heart rate under control, Levi. You haven’t been out of that bed since you’ve been put in it. I just, I can’t.”

“He,” I hesitated, swallowed roughly on a dry mouth and tried again, “He’s the love of my life. I thought he was dead. I was convinced I’d never see him again. That he’d never know how much he means to me.”

My small declaration won her over pretty easily. Everything else wasn’t easy. In fact, when she removed my catheter I thought I’d pee on her. And not even out of defiance or disrespect. That shit was rough.

Standing up was a feat, I wasn’t sure how walking would work. Jackie had that covered though. She pushed a wheelchair into my room, and said, “I can only give you ten minutes and then you need to be back in this bed, understood?”

I nodded as I sat down and she wheeled me around the nurse’s station to the other side of the floor. It was late, at least on hospital time and most of the patients had their doors closed and the lights off. “He might be sleeping,” she whispered when we got to his room.

“That’s okay. Ten minutes right?” I asked as I started to push his door open with my foot, and wheel myself in. I glanced at her and she nodded tapping her wrist where her watch was. I nodded too, my heart suddenly racketing in my chest, not that it wasn’t used to it by now. According to Jackie all I could do was panic and send my heart rate rocketing, pushing them to drug me every chance they got.

The TV was on in his room, playing the Simpsons but the volume was pretty low. The light from it flashed across Gideon’s body. He was sitting upright, eyes slightly closed like he had dozed off or was dozing off.

The sight of him bought tears to my eyes. Pathetic really but I wanted to throw up I was so happy he was alive. I could hardly maneuver the wheelchair and hit the corner loudly as I rounded it to enter his room.

Gideon jolted up, eyes flashing bright green and open. It took him a second to register the sight. I thought I should stop crying but I couldn’t help it the more I looked at him. He started crying, too.

“Oh god, we’re so fucking gay,” I managed to say, my voice thick and unusually emotional. Gideon laughed but it was short and empty. I rolled over to the side of his bed, and took his hand. His other arm was in a sling, his leg had a cast, and his face was worse for wear.

But he was still my Gideon.

I didn’t even know what to say. It was an unbearably long silence punctuated by the hiccups I couldn’t shake. I closed my eyes, dropping my head against his hand. He let go of me to run his hand through the side of hair I still had. “You,” he said lowly. “Scared me. So much.”

Fuck the ten minutes, I thought and stood up, barely able to keep my weight on my feet. “I can’t,” I choked up trying to find words. “Gideon.” And I was crying again, which was stupid because he was here and this was real. He pulled me down onto the bed, shifting very slowly with his one working leg. “I don’t ever want to feel like that again.”

He brushed my cheeks with his thumb. “Please don’t cry.”

“Gideon, god, I thought you were dead.”

“But I’m not, I’m here.”

“No. Gideon. You don’t understand. I thought I lost you. I thought you were gone. Not just out of my life, we can’t be friends anymore. Like really gone. Like no phone call would ever reach you, gone. And I think, I think that would’ve killed me.”

He didn’t say anything and I was glad. I sat up and stared at the wall ahead, trying to figure out how to say what I needed to. “I feel like such an idiot for fighting this, for fighting you. I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you practically my whole life. And I should’ve just manned up and—.”

“You don’t have to say anything more.”

“Ugh, I’m screwing this all up and I’ve got like four more minutes to say so much shit you should’ve heard from me months ago and all I want to do is kiss the shit out of you.”

He was sitting up too, and whispered in my ear, “Do you need an invitation?” I didn’t and took my time leaning in, keeping my eyes opened the whole time so I could see the way his eyes flickered from my lips back up to my gaze a few times. “Don’t tease me,” he said hoarsely so I closed the distance, and filled my voids with Gideon. It felt like a first kiss in that excited and new kind of way, but like a wedding kiss, too, familiar and finally.

“If we pretend to sleep, maybe she’ll let you stay,” he said after he pulled away as I trailed kisses all over his face. It seemed like a good idea; maybe we’d appeal to that romantic sappy part of her. Gideon lowered the bed with the remote, and I curled up against him.

“I haven’t slept since I’ve been here,” he said quietly after he turned the TV off and we were in nothing but darkness. “I just keep thinking about that night.” He paused and then asked, thoughtfully, “Why did you climb on top of me?”

“It’s what Hunt did. In Grey’s Anatomy.”

I felt his chest rattle as he laughed. “Of course. The only thing you know about medicine is what you’ve learned from a show.”

“They said I saved your life,” I whispered against his chest.

He hugged me closer, dropping his head so it rested against the top of mine. “You always have, Levi.”

We didn’t have to pretend to sleep for long.

And I didn’t have to pretend I was straight at all, or ever again.