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Cy isn’t suicidal.Wasn’t.
He would never leave Rian behind willingly.
But he has. He is. He will.
Rian slowly pulls himself up, leans forward, and kisses Cy’s forehead. He murmurs, “I love you, Cy.”Now and forever.
Harris hadn’t moved at all, and it takes a moment for Rian to realize his hand has slipped from his shoulder and is now resting on the small of his back, pressing into him ever so lightly. It is as if to suggest he could lean into the touch should he wish to seek comfort, or he could simply straighten up and shrug it off, as he has done earlier with his aunt Monica.
I’m so fucking lost. I’m alone. Goddamn it, Ty, where the hell are you?
Holding his breath, he waits, and the fingers splay wider pressing closer, allowing him to feel the warmth of the other man through the thin fabric of his faded green hoodie. The decision is made for him. He doesn’t need to ask for comfort, it is given.
Harris murmurs, “Everything will be alright.” His breath licks at the nape of Rian’s neck giving him goosebumps. He closes his eyes and tips his head back, surrendering. He isn’t sure what he should expect next, but Harris moves with him, sliding those impossibly warm fingers over his midsection, tucking him close, encouraging Rian to rest his weight on his chest, even if only for a moment.
Rian is so tired.
He is exhausted.
Being held by Harris feels both good and entirely wrong.
Tayida. Tayida. Tayida.
But he isn’t coming and Rian is tired of waiting.
Harris and Rian seem to be the same height, yet Harris feels so big and solid behind him. So warm as he envelops his frame completely.
This time, there is a hesitant knock on the door. Harris pulls away, but not by a lot. He has simply taken Rian’s hand in his as if it is the most natural thing in the world. He gives him a thoughtful warm look, like he has known him his entire life, like he knows him intimately, before softly asking, “Are you ready?”
CHAPTERNINE
Tayida – Ty – Beloved One
DECEMBER 2017
Tayida is looking around the half-empty room in the luxurious funeral home where the service for Cyril is held. He doesn’t know any of these people, and he doesn’t care if they stare at his military uniform, or at his duffle resting next to him. The only person he cares about is Rian, but he hadn’t anticipated any of this. He certainly hadn’t imagined Harris would be so brazen as to dig his claws into him this fast.
Finding the right funeral home has taken him all of the previous day, calling every single listed relevant business to inquire about their planned services with absolutely no luck. In his desperation, he contacts the hospital, and they finally give him the contact details of Cyril’s aunt Monica. It takes five tries until she finally takes his call, and half irritated, slurring her words tells him where the service would be.
The letter from Cyril he was supposed to give Rian is burning a hole in the pocket of his jacket. Ty wishes the earth would open and swallow him whole as he has let his only friend down in the worst of ways.
Rian looks completely devastated and Ty wants nothing more than to run to him and yank him away from Harris. Only the love of his life is clinging to that nightmare of a man like his existence depends on it. Does he even know Ty is there?
Tayida is torn between going to Rian and finally facing the coffin.
He has been looking at the mahogany edge of the box his friend will rot in. The low lights reflect softly over the polished surface. This whole place feels like one of those weird dreams, that make no sense and are accompanied by elevator music.
This isn’t real.
When Ty finally summons the courage to approach the open casket, he sinks to his knees in despair. He’s been holding on to the tiniest irrational sliver of hope that this is all a big fucking mistake, and Cyril is still very much alive.
His best friend looks fragile in the black suit they have him dressed in. The formal attire looks so weird on him, draping his shrunken frame.
It almost feels like life and light have been drained from him even before his final day. The shell that has been left behind is only but a mere reminder that he was ever there. But this isn’t Cyril. His Cyril truly is sky high now, beyond the pain and suffering he’s carried in his heart for months, possibly years.
He can’t stop looking at this lifeless cadaver that was once his dearest friend in the world. And to think Rian would have had to face this transformation without anyone by his side. A slow torturous decline Rian would have been forced to observe all alone.
The fabric of Cy’s suit seems so stiff. The thick black cloth looks heavy like it’s weighing him down pressing him deeper into the thick, white silk upholstery of the casket.
