No.

That was the first word that came to mind, the first word to actually register.

Lies.

And that was the second, as well as the third, the fourth and the fifth.

Lies. Lies. Lies.
All lies.

Because they had to be. No other explanation made sense. He didn’t want any other explanation to make sense. It simply couldn’t; he wouldn’t allow it to.

Denial.

It was the first mental defense against such things. He simply refused to accept it. Death was not a part of life, and he would not permit it to enter now.

He must have called several dozen times, called the house and cell phone of his lover, but all he received in return was a cheerful answering machine that encouraged him to leave a message. So he tried a more direct approach, driving to his home. The front door was locked, but it didn’t matter. He kept a spare key, just as Shinichi had kept one to his own.

The house was empty, dark, silent, but it held a welcoming charm. Slowly, cautiously, he strolled through the rooms, double-checking each one with a single exception: the bedroom. He avoided it, almost certain of what awaited there. Yet, at last, he had no choice.

His hand settled on the doorknob, and with a rotation of the wrist and push of the hand he opened the door.

The air inside the room was still, as if time itself had stopped. As always the room was neat, well-kept. Only the bed was askew. The dark-purple comforter was flipped off to one side, the pillows crooked and the sheets rumpled. He strode to the bed, fingers skimming across the silk.

Here, right here. It was the place they’d first admitted love, and the place they’d first made it. Here, right here. They’d spent their first anniversary right here. In this room they’d had their first fight, shed the first tears. They’d made up here as well, just moments after. They’d laughed, loved, cried right here, on this bed.

He laid down upon it and took a pillow, holding it close. Shameless tears fell from his eyes and he closed them quickly, stifling hushed sobs.

“Oh Baby, don’t cry.” He could hear the voice, so serene and beautiful in his mind. “What’s wrong, sweetie?” And there was the touch—that gentle touch—a hand brushing his hair, smoothing the colored strands.  

“You’re gone. You’re not here,” he replied in a whisper, his throat closing up. “You’re not with me.”

The hands slid lower, to his shoulders, and lips descended to gently brush his neck. “I’m not gone.” The hands at his shoulders squeezed lightly and he rolled over, seeing the face of his lover in his mind. Dark brown eyes gazed down at him lovingly.

“But you’re not coming back.” The whisper lingered, salty streaks dampening his cheeks. “Did it hurt?” he asked with fear trembling in his voice.

“No. I didn’t feel anything. Didn’t even see it coming…” came the hushed reply.

Didn’t see it coming…“Then I’ll come, too!” he exclaimed. “I’ll join you. It won’t be hard; it’ll just take a minute. Pills or a blade. I’ll be with you. We’ll have eternity.” Yes eternity. Eternity together. He wanted to reach up and touch the gentle face above him, but when he did he found that it was nothing more than a mirage.

“No! Don’t be ridiculous, Baby. You can’t. You’re needed here,” his lover answered, and took the hands he’d lifted, pressing his lips to the palms.

Aka-chan turned his face away. What did it matter who or what needed him here? What he needed was gone forever.

Now the hands moved again, slipping from his own to settle on his chest, over his heart. “I’m still right here.”

But it wasn’t the same! How could he never let another smile light up his eyes when the one who’d caused it most often would now only bring grief with memory? How could he laugh when the one he laughed for would never be able to hear it? How could he sing when the one he sang for would never be there to listen? How could he love when the one he loved most had been ripped from him without a word of goodbye? And how could he live when the one he lived for no longer was?

“Aka-chan...Baby, look at me.”

He refused, afraid to do so. No one had told him. He’d spent days feeling as if something was wrong. He’d spoken to everyone, wanting to know if something had happened. No, nothing. Everything was fine, they’d said. He’d spoken to everyone with a single exception.

Then he’d received the phone call from Shinichi’s parents. They’d asked him if he would be attending the funeral.

Funeral...

He’d been so confused. He hadn’t known what was going on, or whom they were speaking of. When they told him he could not respond.

Why? Why hadn’t he been told? Why hadn’t he made his lover stay that night, kept him off of the roads that would spell his end. Shinichi was the most important person to him, his most precious, and yet….

He could have prevented this. Then he could have once again held him close and whispered to him, whispered words full of love…and sang – sang once more a song he’d composed only for his gorgeous lover. He wouldn’t have had to been alone.

“Baby, I love you... and I want you to live for me.”

At the words the vocalist’s eyes shot open and he gazed up to see the white ceiling, the room quiet and empty save for himself. When he closed his eyes the vision of his lover was no longer there and would not return despite his attempts to summon it.

Here, right here... Right here in this room, right here in this bed, in the same spot he and his lover had laid just days before…he now found himself alone.