Do You Remember? (George Michael x Andrew Ridgeley)

1 / 'Last Christmas'

*Above: Video - Last Christmas by Wham!, 1986*

Above: Picture - Andrew Ridgeley pictured (left), George Michael (right), 1986*

George

I woke with a small smile on my face; it was Christmas. I was to see my former band mate Andy later today for a drink, and just the thought of seeing him again made me somewhat content. He knew how hard the last few years had been for me, as had my most recent boyfriend Fadi. As I stared at the picture of Fadi hanging on my wall, I couldn't help but blush, despite our argument the previous night.

I didn't realise until then that my breaths were short and labored. My lungs stung, and my eyes were watering. At that moment I remembered the excessive amount of sleeping pills I had ingested the previous night. My heart picked up speed until suddenly it stopped beating. I couldn't seem to breathe or speak. Panic rushed through me, my eyes widening in fear. Tears stung the corners of my eyes, as I realised I was trapped, inevitably dying. 

Suddenly, my vision went black. The darkness consumed me until all that was left was my demented, faded soul in the middle of the chaotic tranquility. A burst of white light blinded me, and then there was nothing.

- Hours Later - 

Andrew

I was just about to bite into my sandwich when my phone vibrated. Picking up and turning it on, my heart skipped a beat. 'Singer George Michael dies at age 53' was at the top of my notifications. Wait -- what?!

I clicked on it and the article opened, but I couldn't read anything on the screen; tears blurred my vision. Oh gosh, he was dead. My best friend since high school, Georgios Kyriacos Panayiotou, was dead. Grief twisted a tight knot in my chest, my breathing becoming increasingly heavier as the silent seconds ticked by.

"Are you okay?" My partner Keren asked me, concern in her eyes.

"Y....Yog died." A single tear rolled down my cheek as I watched her face scrunch up. She stood up and wrapped her long arms around my torso, trying to comfort me.

"It'll be okay." She whispered in my ear. I set my mouth in a straight line and pulled out my phone. She watched as I crafted my tweet in honour of him:

'Heartbroken at the loss of my beloved friend Yog. Me, his loved ones, his friends, the world of music, the world at large. 4ever loved. A xx'.

I clicked 'Post' and exhaled sharply, balling my hands into fists. Keren let me lurk off into the bedroom, knowing how devastating it was for me to find out that George had passed away. 

This has to be a bad dream, I thought in disbelief, He can't be dead. 

But this was the cruel reality I lived in, where friends died without your knowledge. That is until the entire world knew. I squeezed my eyes shut, attempting to block out the memories of Yog that threatened to pour into my mind's eye. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Then all of the memories flooded into my brain, overwhelming me with such a sense of loss I could barely stand to think anymore.

Everything went white, and then standing in front of me was 23-year-old Yog, dark brown curly hair and all. He looked into my eyes sadly, and took my hand in his.

"Are you ready?" His soft, calm voice questioned. I felt like throwing up.

"N ... no. Who are you? Why are you here? Ready for what?!" Questions seemed to be flying out of my mouth. He cocked a perfectly done eyebrow at me.

"I'm George. Your best friend since Bushey Meads School," He said smoothly, pausing for a moment. "Do you trust me?"

"I ... I guess so?" I answered tentatively, unsure of what the hell was happening. 

He grasped my hand harder and said, "Don't let go."

"I won't," I promised.

I didn't let go.