Leave Us Behind

Jason sat on the bench, a smile on his face as cool wind blew dying leaves from a tree branch nearby, scattering them across the sidewalk. He let out a sigh, adjusting his beanie containing dark blonde locks under the cap as his green eyes flickered around. “Cold day, isn’t it. Nah, don’t, don’t say anything, it’s a boring move. Weather talk.”

He dug around in his pocket, pulling out his phone.

November 16th.

Right on.

He slid his phone back in his pocket, adjusting his gloves on his hands, tennis shoes digging into the dirt under the bench for a moment and creating small holes that would soon be filled with snow. “Been a while since we saw each other. Sorry about that. I, uh, I got that, that drink you like,” he stammered a bit, sliding a backpack down between his legs and unzipping it. He fumbled with the green can of an energy drink, before offering it with a smile.

“Here, there you go,” he mumbled, leaning back onto the bench and sliding a pack of cigarettes from the backpack, scoffing as the wind rose a bit. “Oh, don’t get fussy at me. I get to have my vice.” He popped it open, thumping the pack against his hand to get one out and sliding it between his lips.

The upper lip felt chapped, and he contemplated peeling the dead skin away for a moment before sliding a lighter from his pocket, flicking the skull-decorated lighter to life. The orange bud at the end bobbed in the air for anyone to see, smoke rising slowly as he took in a slow breath, smoke coming out of his nose with a sigh.

“So, let’s see…updates, updates, right?” he mumbled, letting the pack fall into the backpack before digging out a back of powdered donuts. “Ugh, these’ll get on my gloves. Hate these. But they’re your favorite so, whatever.”

He peeled the two winged tips holding it closed, biting into the cigarette for a moment as he opened the pack. “Samantha’s moving. Got a new job in Chicago. Said she’ll keep in touch but you know how flighty she gets. It’s the, it’s the eighty hd’s she says, then laughs like it’s the funniest joke she’s ever told. I never tell her it’s like, the basest joke from twitter, it’d hurt her feelings.”

He plucks a donut out, carefully plunking the sack next to him as he trades the cigarette to one hand and takes a bite out of the donut, licking powdered lips with a sigh. “Andrew’s dad passed last month. It was unexpected. Kind of. I mean. They knew but in like that way that you kinda know something but not really. I…I guess,” he mumbled, ending his weird train of thought as he took another bite.

“TinTin, you remember him, my online guru dude. He broke his leg falling down a set of stairs. He’s really uh, freaking, bored,” he stumbled, laughing a bit as he tossed the last bite of donut into his mouth, pulling a water bottle from the side of his backpack to take a sip. “I remember you hated cussing, so, I stopped myself. Ain’t I the best?”

Jason slid the cigarette back between his lips, taking a slow breath in. The burn of the cigarette was painful as ever, but also comforting in the face of the cool breeze of the wind threatening to bring about ice and snow.

He idly tapped his foot, taking a shorter drag. “World’s dying, people get scared, people fall in love, people live. That’s really all I know.” He sighed, his breath sliding out like a stream of water, and he watches the smoke as if it could give him the answers to the universe.

Jason leans forward, hands clasped together, gulping down something that dredges up his throat for a moment. “I…I’m sorry. I don’t…every time I come here, I run out of things I want to say to you…I’m sorry. I’m a…a bad boyfriend,” he sniffed, dragging his gloved hand across his nose, staring down at the grass a moment as something shifts beneath his ribs, and he has to clear his throat to get it to go away.

“…you said…you said I should move on.”

Something in the distant tinkles, a little wind-catcher perhaps?

“And I’m trying, I swear, I have been ever since…bu-but…”

Around the tree, a young girl walks after her mother, who is knelt down and fixing a set of flowers as she smiles at her child.

“But I just…it feels like giving up on you. On us,” he says, his voice creaking like a ship in a storm, and he clasps a hand over his mouth as his heart stutters, and his shoulders shake.

A tent is set up several plots away, far enough he can’t hear what they’re saying, but one person looks happy, while another has their head bowed, all of them wearing black outfits in the setting sun of the day.

“I…” He let out a breath, and shut his eyes for a moment, leaning his head back to let the smoke curl above him like a young dragon learning to control his fire.

Jason opened his eyes, and smiled down at the headstone in front of him.

“…I’ll be back. Next month. Maybe I won’t cry that time, huh?”

He shifted off the bench, kneeling in front, and kissed his fingers, reaching out to press them to the first letter of the name on the stone.

“Love you. Don’t forget me up there, got it?”

Richard Theodore Thompson, in arching letters. March 17, 19xx-November 16th, 202x. ‘A loving son and brother, who lit up the room when he walked in’. A black and white image on the headstone showed a smiling young adult, small bits of hair on his chin, glasses on his nose, and the brightest smile one might see in their lifetime. It didn’t show the curly brown hair he had had, nor the glittering blue eyes that contained so much mirth and happiness, nor the tiny scrape on his neck from an ill-advised attempt as a child to climb through barbed wire.

It didn’t show how loud and loving he was.

It didn’t show the rest of the photo, where Rich’s arm was around Jason’s shoulders, nor did it show the aftermath of Jason’s lips chasing the skin of his cheek to brush against, laughter lighting up the room as they teased one another.

Jason would always love Richard, because Richard had always loved him, even when he’d gotten sick and started to falter, and stumble, and eventually the walk of life ended for his boyfriend.

Jason packed up his items, leaving the drink lodged in the dirt of the plot, pressing another kiss to the R of Richard’s name, and not for the first time, wished that he would wake up with Rich saying it was ‘all a prank’ and poking fun at him for crying all the time.

The sun dipped down below the horizon, and everyone went home, and the world moved on to another day.