'Maybe... I am, truly, a monster.' He thought to himself. There was no other explanation. He wasn't unfortunate; he was a curse. He was a curse to everyone around him. Everyone he got attached to would meet an unfortunate end, and it was because of him.
Tears flooded into his eyes, threatening to spill. Everything was spiraling downhill, even when it was so perfect just four hours ago.
Waiting for Norton's autopsy to finish felt like it was taking years. Andrew knew that Norton died because of him, but he also wanted to know the specific reason. The scientific reason.
After waiting for what felt like forever, a doctor came out to tell Andrew what Norton had died of. It was a lung collapse— pneumothorax. Andrew could barely comprehend the word and its meaning. He didn't really understand, Norton had been breathing, alive, and somewhat well for so long. Why now? Why now that Andrew had truly become infatuated with the other? This all felt like some huge plot against him, like some big prank.
Andrew was told he could go home, or go wherever would bring him comfort. But nothing would bring him comfort. He knew he wouldn't be able to handle being at home, let alone in their bedroom. His true home was there, in the hospital. Probably with his organs completely rearranged. Still, he got an Uber back to their house. There was an emptiness inside of him that he hadn't felt since his mother's passing, an emptiness that brought great pain and nothing good.
The first thing that he saw upon entering their home was Norton's hat. Tears hit Andrew's eyes, however he couldn't bring himself to cry. He remembered his mother's letter to him post mortem. His dear mother's letter. He found himself digging through the storage they had in their kitchen, desperately searching for the letter. It didn't take him long to find the old, crinkled, yet neatly folded paper. He opened it up hastily, but very gently as to not rip it.
'Dear Andrew,
It's really difficult to understand others, such that rumors and malevolence have become people's weapons against those who are different. Perhaps it's easier to look for self-redemption than to change others... Please don't cry for my departure. Death may separate people, but death ultimately reunites them.'
The last two lines in particular rang out to him. 'Please don't cry for my departure. Death may seperate people, but death ultimately reunites them.'
She was right. And Norton would have agreed. He couldn't cry, he didn't want to disappoint either of them any further than he already had. His poor mother probably couldn't even stand to look at her son from wherever she stood in the afterlife, her son who had only gotten worse over the years.
Reading the letter caused him to fall to his knees, hopelessly clutching it to his chest. One hand held the frail paper to his chest, the other clutched the crucifix hung around his neck. He whispered small prayers, small wantings of only peace for Norton and his mother. He didn't even know if Norton believed in God, yet he still wanted to make sure he got the peace and rest he deserved.
He ended up falling asleep pressed up against the inside of his front door. He dreamt of a world where Norton was healthy and happy, still there with him. His mother, also happy and as healthy as ever. A world where he didn't have to suffer in silence, where he wasn't all alone.
Usually, when Andrew would fall asleep somewhere that wasn't their bed, Norton would be kind enough to carry him to their bed and tuck him in. He would leave him with a kiss on the forehead, and a surrounding warmth that was a joy to wake up to.
Not waking up to that only worsened the pain Andrew already felt.
He didn't want to move, he didn't want to do anything. He wanted to sleep forever, sleep until he could see Norton or his mother again. However, he weakly pushed himself up, knowing it would just cause more trouble if he were to stay in that position and rot there. Andrew stood up, legs slightly wobbly. He really was unsure of what to do next. Norton always helped him with figuring out what he needed to do.
Andrew had never truly realized how dependent he was on Norton until his death. Life was so much more difficult, and for little to no reason. Even things that he was used to doing, like cooking, became nearly impossible to do on his own. He had done this to himself; this could've easily been avoided if he just ditched Norton the first time he felt something for the other man.
He was genuinely alone, for the first time in two years. Andrew almost thought about adopting some sort of small animal, to bring him comfort and company. But he remembered that he was just a living curse. He would hate to bring upon an unfortunate end on yet another undeserving and pure being. He wouldn't be able to live with himself.
