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He is tall, definitely older, in his early forties perhaps, and incredibly handsome. His face is deeply tanned, suggesting he spends a lot of time outside. The dark color was in contrast with his blue eyes and dark arched eyebrows above his perfect roman nose. His lips are thin, but there is something about the curve of his mouth and his dimpled chin that make all his features work together, creating an attractive face one couldn’t glaze over.
His thick, dark hair is not cut strictly as a military buzz cut but is still neatly trimmed and styled in a sophisticated manner, revealing only a dusting of silver on the sides. He is wearing black designer jeans, if Rian had to guess. A white polo shirt, and a cashmere navy jumper that accentuates his narrow waist and powerful broad shoulders. With his above six-foot frame, he looks like all the definitions of solid. Reliable. Safe.
Suddenly, Rian wishes the stranger would finally notice him and tell him everything would be alright. That he is here to help. That this is all a misunderstanding. That this is no more than a terrible mistake.
“How long has he been like this?” the man mutters quietly instead. Rian only registers the question after the man turns to him, pinning him to his seat with his intense dark-blue eyes.
“Three weeks,” Rian croaks.
The man looks away, focusing his attention on Cyril once more, taking his hand between his own and clasping it lightly.
Rian clears his throat, attracting his notice once more. “How do you know my brother?”
The man looks hesitant for a moment, but then he composes himself and answers looking straight into Rian’s eyes. He speaks slowly, never breaking eye contact as if studying Rian carefully in turn.
“My name is Harris Sebastian Kelly. I was Cyril’s captain in his battalion stationed in Afghanistan. I don’t know… if he’s ever mentioned me.”
It sounds like a question and Rian hates himself for shaking his head to indicateno. Had Cyril really not mentioned Harris or had Rian not paid enough attention and simply didn’t remember? He doesn’t know the answer and that upsets him even more. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t recall Cyril talking about you.”
The man watches him cautiously for another moment, perhaps expecting more. He seems concerned. Rian looks away and down to his hands still holding Cyril’s limp fingers.
The only person his brother ever talked about who had anything to do with his life in the Army, was Tayida.
Rian swallows hard, remembering that treacherous moment of boldness, when he had laid his heart on the line, declaring his love for Tayida in an email, just days before Cyril’s accident. He hadn’t heard anything from Ty and after the accident, no matter how many times he tried reaching him, it seemed like the other man had fallen off the face of the earth.
I fucked it all up. All of this is my fault. I’m losing them both and I don’t fucking know what to do with myself.
Rian is so hopelessly in love he is ready to do anything to prove to Ty his heart is true, and his intentions are pure. But for all he knows now, after so many days of trying to get through to Ty, his affection would never be reciprocated. Not only has he completely been rejected, but in his haste to deny him any closure, Ty has shut all communication down depriving Cyril of a last goodbye. Rian is furious at himself. He is the cause of this. Why couldn’t he just be happy with what they had? Why couldn’t he just be grateful? Why did he have to go and ruin everything with his greedy heart?
The sheer financial burden of the medical bills to come and the slowly creeping realization he is about to lose his only family stun him enough to simply retreat into survival mode and hold on to every moment he has left with his brother, rather than keep up the futile attempts to reach Ty.
Every now and then, when he was presented with more bad news about Cyril’s declining health condition he tried again. But no matter how many times he attempted calling or emailing Tayida, the result was always the same – his emails bounced back, indicating some error and his phone calls rang out with no answer. Ty’s social media was no better either – no messages seemed to make it through.
Rian has been sitting there motionless, still trying to make sense of his racing thoughts and get over his broken heart. There is so much to think about, but the mere effort of guarding Cyril’s body and trying to keep him alive despite all odds has completely drained him. Being alone has been his constant state for years, yet he has never felt lonelier and more abandoned than he feels right at this moment. He feels weak, outnumbered, stupid and helpless. His sanity is hanging by a thread, attached to a body completely drained of energy, moved by the sheer savage love he has for his brother.
In the weeks prior to his accident, Cyril had been acting strange, saying things, that in retrospect sounded awfully ominous. Rian hadn’t given his words much thought at the time, too distracted and anxious by the fact that Ty has not answered his stupid email. Cyril had told him that if anything should ever happen to him, Rian should find Ty immediately. That Ty was the only person Rian could trust.
Rian’s shoulders shake with his sobs. He holds Cyril’s hand tighter desperate to feel the last of his warmth seep through his skin. Ri lays his head on Cy’s thigh and cries, momentarily forgetting about the other man in the room and everyone else on the other side of the door, who want him to discard his brother like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he isn’t worth the utility consumption, or the effort of the medical staff.
Someone tries to barge in again, but Harris simply barks with the authority of a man used to giving orders, without even moving away from the bed. “We’re not done here. Leave.”
Whoever that person is, they quickly retreat and close the door softly behind them. Rian takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, grateful that this kind man is willing to take over his fight if only for a minute, to allow him to focus on Cyril in his last moments. His body feels so deceptively warm. His hand is dry and warm. When his fingers twitch, Rian doesn’t feel a hopeful leap in his chest. He knows it’s an involuntary nerve reaction.
Rian takes another deep breath, breathing in the hospital smell, the scent of linens, bleach and urine mixed with the faintest traces of Cyril. He has lost so much weight. His body is already fading away. He isn’t really there anymore. No matter how desperately Rian is holding on to him, he knows the truth – Cy is never going to come back to him. Letting go would mean Rian is finally and completely alone. Cyril would never again crush Rian to his chest and mutter in his hair,“I made it, Ri. I’m home.”
Rian can hear Harris moving quietly in his space and feels him place his large hand on his shoulder hesitantly. “I’m sorry.” His voice is quiet and kind, but he utters the words with unmistakable finality.
Rian murmurs, looking back and up at him, “Would you have been the one to sign the letter had he died in active duty over there?”
Harris swallows and then shakes his head. “No. Not anymore. I’m retired. Twenty-five years of active duty. Left the military last spring.”
“What do you do now?” Frankly, he doesn’t care, but it seems like the polite thing to ask.
“I work for the military as a private civil engineering contractor – advising and developing projects on-site when needed. I also specialize in Telecommunication technologies, surveillance and security. Privately, I work with veterans and support them through their transition into civilian life, sponsoring educational programs and training facilities, through my business.” He clears his throat, and adds quietly, “I divide my time between my corporate and charity work. I founded my own aid organization after my nephew took his own life during his last tour in Afghanistan. I wanted to help others like him, who were struggling with their mental health, getting over debilitating injuries, or experiencing difficulties transitioning back into civilian life.”
Rian looks back at his brother. He feels for the other man. He really does. Harris Kelly is clearly very kind-hearted. Mr. Kelly must have loved his nephew a lot to have committed his life to helping others like him.
A bitter voice in his head hisses, that this isn’t the case with Cyril.
