43. Our Last Goodbye
forty-three
Our Last Goodbye
Archer
Liam and I have been here together for hours. He climbed out of bed just long enough to retrieve the pizza from the front door, and he hasn’t left my side since. We ate in bed, then just lay here talking.
It’s been a special sort of torture. This is all I want. Truly, in the whole world, this is it. Liam. Companionship, from him and him alone. A happy life with the man I… have very strong and unnamed feelings for.
Feelings that I almost spilled in the heat of things. Words on the tip of my tongue that probably would have terrified him had I told him the truth of it.
With Liam, everything is so perfect. I feel so complete, like the outside world doesn’t matter.
Like tomorrow we’ll wake up and find ourselves in that same perfect secret place we make together.
This shield from the world that’s just the two of us, whether it’s my car, a tiny shower, or here in his bed.
It’s anywhere that it’s just the two of us.
But even now, still safe in his arms, reality buzzes somewhere in the background.
I have to go and dig his dead brother up and possibly kill myself trying to resurrect him.
More pressingly, how late are the shops open? Have I got time to buy a shovel? If not, where can I get one from? How long will it take me to dig up this grave? Quite a long time, probably. I should really get moving.
But it’s wonderful here. It’s warm. It’s cosy. Liam’s head resting on my chest, the warmth of his laugh thrilling through me. These are possibly the sweetest sensations known to man. Or, most bittersweet, at any rate.
There’s a melancholy finality in all of this.
Some idea that maybe this is me having achieved my life’s purpose.
Some neat little checklist I didn’t realise I’d just completed.
I have achieved perfect happiness, and thus I’m no longer required to stay in this rat race of mankind.
I get this one moment of victory, then I die.
It’s harrowing, in its way, listening to all the nice things Liam says.
The way his fingers find mine over and over, squeeze into me.
The way he drops little kisses every chance he gets, anywhere—my arms, my neck, my lips.
He’s so full of affection, physical and emotional.
He’s everything I’ve been craving for the longest time.
He’s going to be so sad if I die. Or worse, if I disappear.
It’s still in the back of my mind that I’ll get caught. That Marsden will be the one they’ll call, since that body belongs to his case. That he’ll murder me in secret, then bury my body in Jem’s casket, and we’ll both be gone from Liam’s life for good.
But I’ll do my best. I’ll be as quiet as I can be. And fast. And if I succeed…
I hold Liam a little tighter, imagining what this could mean to him.
He will miss me if I die. But he will understand why I did it. And I think he would forgive me.
Eventually.
Liam’s head dips lower on my chest, a full-body heaviness spreading through his limbs that feels amazing against me.
He’s fallen asleep.
Slipped into much-needed peace and quiet, a rest from all the horrors of the day. A rest from worrying about what happens tomorrow. Safe and happy, here with me.
Somehow, this is even worse. The trust implicit in this. That I’ll be here when he wakes. Or at least that I’ll let him know I’m leaving. That I won’t betray him when he’s at his most vulnerable.
But that’s exactly what I have to do.
It takes everything I have, and five watched minutes from the first sign of sleep, I ease out from under him. I move an extra pillow beneath his head, hoping the cold of it won’t wake him. Then I drop that kiss goodbye on his temple.
I hope I see you tomorrow, Liam.
I hope you can forgive me if I don’t.
I slip away, pulling the door behind me as quietly as I can.