It Was Only a Kiss; Boyf Riends

A Brother Gonna Have Your Back

TW: Suicide

Michael's POV

We're back in my basement, playing Apocalypse of the Damned 2. I smile, because it really is a two-player game. I look over at Jeremy, briefly, and gaze at the bean bag he's nestled in. It was my brother's old bean bag. It's one of the few things of his that we kept.

My brother and I used to play like Jer and me- for hours on end, just the two of us. He would talk about girls, and I would listen eagerly and wonder when the right girl would come along for me.

Obviously, the right girl never came. There was no right girl. In fact, there were no girls at all.

I had planned to come out to him for weeks. I knew exactly what I would say. We would be playing video games, and talking about everything from school to our parents, from his drawings to my singing. And when he would start to talk about his new girlfriend, and then ask me what I thought, I would casually mention I wasn't really into girls.

And he would laugh, and ask me what I meant, and I'd tell him that I liked boys. And we would sit in silence, and he'd be deep in thought for a minute. But soon, he would look up at me, tell me he's glad I told him, and then ask me if I had any crushes.

The night I planned to tell him, I ran into his room to ask him if we could play on the XBOX. I had found him in his bed, with his eyes closed. I put my hands on his shoulders to shake him awake, but he remained unresponsive. I yelled his name, and shook him again, but his eyes stayed closed.

I hurried to the bathroom that connected to his room and got a cup of water to pour on his face. I knew he would be mad when he woke up, but I was already anxious about coming out, and I didn't want anything to go wrong. And for my plan to work, he kind of needed to be awake.

But as I ran the water, I saw his bedside table in the mirror.

An open bottle of sleeping pills, and a note.

My heart rate sky rocketed, and I had trouble walking back into his room. My knees were too weak. I had seen this before. In movies, in some of the ones we'd watched together.

But they were just movies. They weren't real. Things like this didn't happen. Not to my brother.

I ran over, picking up the bottle and looking inside. Empty. I grabbed the note, and read it over the water that was rapidly flooding my eyes.

"Michael,

I am so sorry. I love you very, very much. Take care of Mama and Nanay for me."

There was also a drawing of us, in the basement playing video games and laughing. Our faces were lit up, and it wasn't just from the soft glow of the tv. The paper was bursting with color. He must've worked hours on this drawing.

I read the note over, and over, and over, to convince myself that it was all just a dream.

I tried to scream for my parents, but all I could do was choke out was a sob.

I knew it was my fault. I could've asked him how he was doing, instead of having him worry about me. How long had he been thinking of doing this? Why didn't he tell me? Why didn't he trust me? Why didn't I notice something was wrong?

I reached for his hand. It was cold, and lifeless, but I held it tight anyway. I knelt down on his carpet and just cried, until I couldn't cry anymore.

Eventually my moms heard and they went upstairs. The paramedics were called, but it was already too late. People came in and out of the room, in and out, but I refused to let go of his hand. I would've fallen asleep, there on the floor, if my Nanay hadn't pulled me away, whispering calm things into my ear, while suppressing tears herself. She carried me into her room like I was a toddler, stroking my hair, and singing to me.