The Aftermath

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"Call a cab." Victor sat and sat on the edge of the road. He stretched his legs out, reached into his coat's pocket, and pulled out a pack of smokes. He opened it and took one out with his teeth.

James watched his feature glow for a second as he lit it. He inhaled the smoke, held it in, and puffed it out his nose.

James was exhausted, watching Victor's emotions swing in all possible directions gave him a migraine and a heartache. He didn't know how to help, or if he could help.

He dropped next to him and asked for a cigarette. Victor obliged before lying on his back.


"How are you feeling?" James asked.

"Sick."

"That's to be expected."

"Whatever."

James had to try three times before he finally managed to order a taxi. Victor was still, staring at the trees and the dark, cloudy sky.

"You should talk to someone."

"You should mind your own business," he said, closing his eyes. James hoped he wasn't going to fall asleep there.

"That would make me a terrible person, don't you think?" James asked, lighting his cigar. His hands were freezing.

"Not different from everyone else." Victor shrugged and shoved his arm under his head. "And I don't want to talk. Why would I? So people can look at me like there's something wrong with me? There's nothing wrong with me. I don't want pity."

"I can name a few things you could work on." James started. "You're high, you're drunk, and you're an asshole. You think this is fun for me?"

"What?"

"Chasing your stupid ass around, making sure you're ok."

"Why do you do it?" Victor asked and James had to wonder that himself.

"I don't know, maybe because, for some weird fucking reason, I care about you." He confessed.

Victor didn't respond.


James sighed and texted Oliver to tell him they're coming back. He wasn't sure if he was still up, but the instant reply confirmed that he wasn't yet sleeping. Oliver said he was worried, James said that Victor was being a nuisance. A drunk, sad, mess.

The cab finally arrived. Victor didn't want help getting up, but he was getting wobbly on his feet. Whatever he had in his system that made him want to jump into the void was fading out. He got in the back of the car and closed his eyes. James got in next to him. His mind was still alert, imagining all the possible bad endings.

Victor was quiet throughout the ride and didn't complain about the cost either. James followed him as he dragged himself back to their room. He dropped on the bad, faced down, kicked his shoes off, and stopped moving.

Oliver was sitting on James' bed, killing time on his phone. He got up and hugged him. It was the best hug of his life.


"Seems like you had a long night" Oliver kissed his cheek and temple. James nodded.

"He's really tough to handle. Jesus. I feel like I'm 93."

Oliver pecked his lips and smiled. He ran his fingers over his head, gently, slowly, and it made James feel warmth surge through him.

"I love you so much," he said, wrapping his arms around Oliver.

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