Vanilla Dusk ✓

Loop Part 5

Shayne would never forget the sight of Erik's mauled body, how his face was barely recognisable and his limbs were torn off. He didn't want to remember how Erik's intestines were sticking out from his battered torso. All he could smell was iron in the air.

He was so petrified he remained stock-still on the spot for a long time, simply gawking at his lover's inanimate body, not believing that this was the boy who had just smiled and kissed him a few minutes ago.

'Erik?' It came out as a breathless cry. Shayne crawled towards what remained of Erik and shook him. He kept shaking him and when he couldn't elicit any cry or groan or the slightest reflex, he shook harder until his face was drenched in his blood and tears. He cried, so loud everyone gaped at him and had to pull him away from the scene. They called the ambulance and as soon as it arrived, they strapped Erik's inert body to a stretcher. Shayne, still speechless from the immense shock, followed Erik into the vehicle, clutching his cold, stiff hand till they reached the hospital.

Erik's brother appeared an hour later. When he saw Erik's body, his face was contorted in anguish. Before he could ask Shayne any questions, he was further bewildered at the sight of Shayne yelling, tossing things around and clinging to Erik's severely maimed corpse. Shayne's father came to fetch him some time later, but he refused to leave the hospital. They had to sedate him and confine him to a portable bed.

In the end, Shayne spent two days in bed. He forced himself to sleep because whenever he was conscious, his eyes began to sting and his father would whisper pointless words of comfort. Yet, when he closed his eyes, he couldn't get rid of the appalling image of Erik shoving him away and the ginormous head of the truck devouring him in a second flat, the warped expression on Erik's face as he let go of his hand and got sucked into the tyres. A few times Shayne was so stupefied that when he woke up, he simply forgot what had happened and started looking for Erik, texting and calling his mobile. When Jónar picked up the call, he would hang up and suddenly remember that Erik, his Erik, was gone. He was crushed by the truck.

Gone.

Shayne wouldn't stop moping and his father grew tired of consoling him. He wouldn't listen or speak. He went back to the residence hall and retrieved all Erik's belongings. Jónar didn't ask Shayne to return Erik's stuff because he knew he would like to keep them. He knew they had been dating and Erik's death traumatised Shayne gravely. Shayne kept everything about Erik inside his room, including his bags, clothes and shoes. Sometimes, he could still smell Erik's scent off his unwashed shirts and feel his essence by hugging his stuffed toy during his sleep.

Nothing was right again.

He felt like he was back to the rooftop, shifting on the ledge, peering down and being caressed by the wind.

Two weeks after the incident, Erik's family flew back to London to attend the funeral. The staff at the parlour had tried to fix Erik's body, scrubbing off his blood and sewing the pieces back together. The boy lay in the coffin with an ashen face, two sunken eyes, a slumped nose and a distorted jaw. He was still an angel in Shayne's eyes. He looked peaceful and Shayne leant in to kiss his forehead. He spent the whole afternoon sitting silently in the church, praying that he could somehow reunite with him.

When Shayne got home, he headed straight into the storage room to look for a cutter, or a blade, or anything that could bring him to Erik's side. The room was filled with broken furniture, malfunctioning electrical appliances and rusty decors his father didn't care to throw away. On a Victorian wooden table was a collection of silvery goblets, cracked pottery tea cups, bizarre-looking figurines and ancient coins. As Shayne rummaged through one of the old, dusty drawers, he accidentally knocked down a silvery lamp and as it landed on the ground with a ear-piercing thump, a golden pocket watch rolled out.

His father must have heard the noise because seconds later, footsteps were shuffling outside. Up the stairs and in the corridor.

'Shayne?' his father called out. 'Shayne? My son? Are you alright?'

Shayne quickly grabbed the watch and slid it into his pocket. He dragged a piece of white cloth off the abandoned piano and covered the glass shards.

'Shayne?'

His father, still wearing his dress shirt and tie, opened the door and frowned.

'Sorry,' muttered Shayne. 'I was looking for something.'

'Did something just break?'

'Er...' Shayne scratched his head and bit his bottom lip.

'Come here.'

Shayne reluctantly plodded towards his father, who unexpectedly held out both of his arms and pulled him into a hug. He couldn't remember when his father last hugged him like this. It had been so long.

'Everything's going to be alright,' reassured his father. 'Believe me.'

Shayne didn't hug back. He fought back the tears and jammed his hands into his pockets. As he closed his eyes and nestled his head on his father's shoulder, images of Erik drifted past his mind. He wanted to be with him.

The golden watch was half the size of Shayne's palm and there was no front cover. The back of the case was carved with intricate patterns of roses and thorns, its rim adorned with small glistening jewels. There was no chain and there was only one hand in the clock with twelve Roman numbers on the face. It looked different from the usual pocket watches Shayne usually came across, more like a trinket or defect. Shayne pressed the crown and to his astonishment, it started ticking.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

The hand started moving, but in an extremely slow motion. It was crawling towards the Roman number I.

Shayne sighed and chucked aside the watch on the nightstand. He wasn't even supposed to be toying with a watch. He had better things to do.

As he lay back down in his bed, he turned to a side and curled up in the blanket. He took out his phone and scrolled through thousands of photos he had taken with Erik during their dates. He stared at a photo of them posing in front of Tower Bridge for what seemed like an eternity before his lids began to droop.

He missed him so much.

He wished he could be with him again.