Chapter Thirty
Aaron
“Aaron—Aaron please. He’s dying! Bear’s dying right in front of me! Help me!”
Ishoot up from where I’m laying on the couch—an episode of a random reality TV show playing across the room.
My skin is covered in a cold sweat, and I can’t seem to catch my breath.
The white shirt I’m wearing is stuck to my skin and my cotton shorts are twisted around me awkwardly—as if I’ve been in some kind of struggle.
I hardly ever sleep through the night. I hear Felix screaming for me—I hear Benjamin telling me he loves me. I hear him tell me I should have left him to die.
“Okay. Okay, my Aaron. My darling God.”
That was the first time Benjamin Dickinson had ever lied to me. He did not let me love him—did not let me help.
Memories of that night—of the time we spent together plague me now.
I can’t figure out how much was genuine and how much of it drove him to overdose.
How did I not notice? How could I not tell he felt so forced?
I was his one safe person. Now he feels all alone.
Fuck—it’s always me. Always all my fault.
I can’t stop crushing him, I can’t stop spiraling.
I can’t eat—I can’t go out—even seeing Felix is hard.
We haven’t talked too much either. After Benjamin was admitted I told him how upset I was about Drew still being in their band.
Apparently, Benjamin never told him about the cheating.
He thought they had a mutual breakup. I imagine it’s because Button was embarrassed. He didn’t want everyone to know.
But he told me.
And I betrayed him. Felix didn’t notice the cuts either. Now things are awkward—but while it’s not because I’m mad at him—now it’s more because Benjamin has been home for a month so I can’t go around there and he doesn’t leave Fe’s side much. That’s good. He needs that.
So, Fe sends me texts about him, and I live off of those—barely leaving my house. I take classes online and just barely skate by. I feel like I’m not even functioning most of the time.
He ran from me.
I told him I loved him—dug my teeth into his skin till I felt bone and buried myself so deep inside of him I thought I’d never find my way out.
And he ran. I’m a fucking idiot. Of course he would.
He’s a recovering addict—a rape victim, a survivor of parental abuse.
And he just found out his relationship of several years was a sham.
I just had to decide right then was the perfect timing to lay claim and rip him to shreds. To make love to him. Pathetic.
“I love you. I worship you.”
“Where else would I go?”
I need to get his voice out of my head—need to turn it off.
But if I do, all I’ll have left are the socks he left behind and the blue bird I now have tattooed along the right side of my stomach and over my ribs—over the scars he left me.
If I can’t have him—if we’ve been doomed from the beginning—I’ll at least take this.
I’ll carry this with me everywhere I go—this little piece of him, of us.
Because I’m just that kind of man. I can’t let go. Not really. I can let him walk away if it means he lives—but I’ll never let him go. He’ll always live inside of me, my heart will always beat for him.
Benjamin and I have circled each other for years—been in our own orbit, touching and confessing in a slow—painful dance. How could I ever forget? How could I ever love anyone else?
Someone knocks at my door. Tapping my phone screen, I see the time is 9:21 P.M. It’s probably Amber with more pick-me-up pizza.
She comes a couple times a week and I debate ignoring her—but she knocks again. I walk to the front and swing open the door with every intention of turning her away this time.
But it’s clear I need to take some pills and lay down—sleep deprivation has a way of torturing you.
Night terrors on a loop and now sick hallucinations.
In my head I see Benjamin in front of me.
He’s even more beautiful than the last time I saw him—in a red long-sleeve shirt and a pair of jeans.
His hair looks like he’s been nervously combing it with his fingers, and his cute little button nose keeps scrunching slightly with each nervous twitch. I can’t look at it anymore.
Turning away from it—from my own self-created hell—I return to the couch and sit down.
Back to staring at the floor—back to thinking and thinking.
Who does a god go to for redemption? I can’t even pray for relief—for help. I have no one to pray to. I miss him.
Almost as if my subconscious was waiting for the thought—Benjamin appears in front of me again. The projection blinks down at me from across the living room and I’d take this version if I could—if it wouldn’t disappear when I touched him.
“Cruel.” I’m whispering to myself, leaning forward, always desperate to be closer to him in any form. “It looks so real. So beautiful.” I can feel my eyes watering. You’d think I’d run out of tears eventually, but they just keep coming.
Projection Benjamin looks concerned for me—looks startled by me. It makes it look more real. More like my Benjamin. He was always startled by me. Upset with me.
“Aaron?” I jump back—my back hitting the cushion behind me. It’s never talked before.
“Jesus. It’s so real.” I’m standing before I can think better of it. If I touch it—it’ll disappear. I need it to disappear.
The walk to where it stands is long—I can’t move very fast in fear of scaring it or it actually leaving me. With each step it looks more alive—more like Benjamin. Its face is screwed up in sadness now.
It’s watching me like I’m a wounded animal, like I’m something it’s observing behind a glass window, and it depresses them.
When I’m standing in front of it, I can hear its breathing—can see its chest rise and fall and feel the air on my face.
“Incredible… But you have to go. You’re killing me.” Hazel eyes are watering—so cruel. So fucking cruel. Slowly—so slowly—I lift my hand to its face, cupping its jaw and hoping I’ll get even a second of warmth before it’s gone.
I do—I do get the warmth. And it’s still here—it’s under my hands, warm and soft.
“What? What is this?” I grab his face with both hands. He’s so real now. I can’t tell the difference between dreams and reality? “I’m dreaming?”
“Aaron.” He sounds so real.
“Benjamin. I wish you were here.” He’s crying. I even make him cry in my dreams.
“I am, Aaron. I’m right here. I just walked in.” I blink. I let go of his face and squeeze his arms instead—then touch his hair, shove my finger into his mouth.
Holy fuck—he’s real.
I rip my hands away, backing away until I’m across the room from him.
“I’m sorry. I thought I was dreaming.” I’m so startled—so out of it. I’m going on so little sleep, so little food. I must look insane. Fuck.
“I know. It’s okay.” His being here is the best thing that could have happened to me tonight—and the one thing that’s going to spiral me deeper into this abyss.
“What are you doing here?” I ask—watching him, scared of him. I’m so fucking scared of what he can do to me—the power he has.
“Why weren’t you there when I was released?” I jolt as if he’s screamed at me—told me he hated me.
“Why would I have been?” Benjamin’s face twists into something miserable and angry.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. I fucking put you there—why would I be your welcome-home parade? Benjamin—I can’t do this. I really can’t.” I watch the anger turn to confusion, turn to pain.
“What are you talking about, Aaron?”
“Ha—are you going to make me spell it out for you? Is that what it’ll take for you to leave?” Benjamin nods, hands trembling at his sides.
I can feel myself swaying just slightly, my vision has a few black spots.
Not good. This is so fucked up. Is he checking?
Making sure I know what I’ve done—the damage I caused?
Because I know—damnit—I fucking know. I taught myself how to swallow the pain I inflict a long time ago.
I’m used to taking the mistakes I’ve made and chewing on them endlessly.
“I… I didn’t mean to push you. I was so sure you loved me back and I wanted to tell you so badly for so long. But I pushed you and forced you and you ran from me—you’re one safe person. Then you almost fucking died. And I still hear him in my ear every time I try to sleep—telling me you’re dying.”
Benjamin has tears running down his face as he stares at me—watches me panic, watches a god confess—all the while he cannot be redeemed.
“I just wanted to be yours, and I fucked everything up. I’d never ask for you to forgive me Benjamin—because I know it’s an impossible ask.
But I know what I’ve done. I know what I’ve done to you every day since I saw you laid out on that grass in 2017.
I promise you don’t need to come here and remind me.
I will never forget. I will always suffer under the weight of the consequences. ”
I turn away from him, walking away. He can let himself out.
He got what he came for. At least I got to tell him.
At least it’s certain that he knows that I’m aware of my transgressions.
The pain I’ve caused him. Sitting on my bed I drop my head into my hands.
Maybe this bit of honesty will give me a chance to sleep.
“That’s why you haven’t called?” I startle—looking up to the doorway of my room where Benjamin stands—still crying, watching me.
“What? Button—please. You’re killing me.” Hot tears fill my eyes, so I drop my head back into my hands. “No—I didn’t see you—I didn’t call. I didn’t have the right. I won’t be the reason you end up in there again. The reason you die. I’d rather be miserable than you be dead.”
“You’re such a fucking idiot, Aaron.” My head snaps back up, eyes meeting his. He’s only a few feet away now. “What did you tell me? You asked me if there was really no way I didn’t see your love for me in every touch—every action, every little thing about you. Do you remember that?”
“Yes, but that’s—”