A Promise Fulfilled [WattyAwards#2012]

Chapter VI: Usque ad finem

Chapter VI: Usque ad finem

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"Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for a while, leave footprints on our hearts, and we are never, ever the same."

― Flavia Weedn, Forever.

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When Dex tried calling Timmy that night, it went straight to voicemail. The same with the next day. The same with every single day that week.

He couldn't concentrate at work. His stomach gnarled and worked itself into little knots, and the numbers danced across his eyes, flickering in and out of vision too quickly to process. He realized during his lunch break on Monday that he'd gnawed all the fingernails on his left hand off-a habit he hadn't had for fifteen years now.

Every night he sat in his apartment and wondered if he should go to Baby Place and made sure everything was alright. What if Timmy was still sick, home alone all day with Haley at work? What if they didn't have enough to eat? What if he needed medicine, but they couldn't afford it? What if Timmy had gotten worse, and was already lying in a hospital bed? Every night Dex talked himself out of it, saying that Haley will take care of it, will take care of him, and Timmy will answer Dex's next phone call with his customary, "What's up, Dapper Dan?"

He needed to believe this. The thought of Timmy in pain made Dex's fingers tingle and his throat felt tight. He couldn't breathe for worry.

He called his mother instead, on Thursday. It helped, a little, to hear her babble on about the new countertop in the kitchen and how much snow they'd had, but the anxiety still ate at his insides, hollowing out a cavern in the middle of his body so that he needed to clutch his arms around his chest before he could sleep at night.

He remembered feeling like this once before. Only once, in the weeks after his near-expulsion for fighting. He remembered curling into bed at night and feeling the weight of his father's silence wash over him, disappointed and scared. He'd felt like his insides were turning into lead as he lay there, trying to hold himself together, trying not to cry, because men don't cry, and maybe if he didn't cry, his father would love him again.

He wanted Timmy, then, so fiercely Dex could almost feel him in his arms. He wanted to hold him tight and never let go, and he wanted to feel Timmy's arms around him too. He wanted to feel Timmy's soft breath on his cheek, wanted to nuzzle his head into Timmy's neck and just breathe in the scent of him, all soap and paint and sweat. He wanted to fold Timmy into his chest and whisper promises of forever, and make everything else disappear. Because Timmy somehow always made him feel like he's worth something. For everything else that he was-bewildering, dualistic, maddening, stubborn, witty, sarcastic-Timmy had always made Dex felt like he was so much more than what he was.

Dex couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand it because Timmy was so far away and probably cold and hungry, shivering under that ratty blanket in that jail cell bedroom. He couldn't stand it because Timmy wouldn't answer his phone and Dex couldn't think straight without hearing his voice. Because he never believed in soul mates but he could believe in two of the most unexpected people meeting and making the world shift bit by bit. Because Haley told him it will never work out. Because he knew she was right.

He couldn't stand it because he knew he was in love with Timothy Ryeille and there was nothing he could do to fix it.

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Timmy called him on the Saturday. Dex was still lounging around his apartment in his pajama bottoms, eating Honeycomb out of the box and feeling immensely sorry for himself as he watched reruns of 'Friends' on one of those generic comedy channels. When the phone rang, he made it to the kitchen on the fifth ring and snatched it off the counter. He nearly spat cereal across the floor when he saw the caller I.D. He answered the call quickly and held it to his ear. Before he could say anything though, a cross voice cut him off.  "Where are you?"