Neon Rush {M/M} ❀

Ch. 5.3 Fertilized with his Best Friend's Ashes

Zef never showed Leo the note. Told himself it was 'cause there wasn't anything comforting in it. Real reason? Guilt. That last line... I couldn't lose you too. Ollie might as well have tattooed it on Zef's heart. Inky, painful and permanent. Even now, the guilt sloshes like noxious soup in his guts as he stares at that final epithet on the tree fertilised with his best friend's ashes.

That last line made him think about the kiss, and coming out, and he felt like it was his fault. If he'd explained himself better, hadn't come out at that moment, if he just hadn't been trans, or gay, or if he'd returned Ollie's feelings...maybe Ollie would still be breathing.

"I miss him. Fuck, I miss him," says Leo.

"Me too."

"It's been years. Still hurts like hell, and it's been years."

"Yeah. I think it's meant to," Zef says. "Hurt, I mean."

Leo swipes at his eyes. It's part of why Zef started crushing on him so bad. Leo was always real good at expressing his feelings.

"Do you ever —?" Leo starts to say. Then he clams up.

"Do I ever?"

"Wonder why he did it. What was going on with him, really. You know?"

The thick, humid air of the bayou makes Zef choke on the answer. Ollie didn't share that side of himself with his brother. Or Matthias, even. Only Zef. Until Zef went to uni and Ollie clammed up with him, too.

Leo continues, "Like, maybe, if I'd paid more attention. Seen the signs. I dunno. You ever think maybe we could have helped him?"

Zef says, "All the fucking time."

They paddle back to shore. Quiet. Nothing like visiting a grave to kill the conversation.

As they pile out of the canoe, the sound of leaves crunching nearby snatches their attention. It's too heavy-footed for a squirrel.

"C'mon. Best not find out what that is," Leo says, putting an arm around Zef's shoulder to steer him away. Zef suppresses the blush threatening to make things awkward all over again.

Heading towards the boardwalk, footsteps crash behind them. Out of the trees, a man wielding a phaser jumps out, shouting in a near pantomime of masculine bravado, "Gimme all your junk." His hands shake. There's a desperate edge to his voice. 'Junk' is just a generic term for drugs. Ever since work performance enhancers became pretty standard practice, the number of addicts went through the roof. Technically legal, but cheaper if you went through unofficial channels. Last Zef checked, neither of them were dealers, though. Unless Leo got into a new line of work—

Leo says, "Oh, for fuck's sake. We ain't got any."

"Don't lie, I seen you exchanging. Hand it over."

"This?" says Zef, fishing the antibiotics out of his pockets. "It's not junk."

"I said don't lie." The addict lunges closer, pressing the phaser to Zef's temple. Close enough to burn off his hair and blind him if his finger twitches.

Zef freezes, hands in the air. The guy's desperate. Probably been a while since he's had a fix. Zef's seen plenty like him in the bayou and the sub-city. Watched plenty of neighbours fall into it, too, chasing the only high life offered or trying to get an edge in their jobs. He felt sorry for 'em. Would feel sorry for this guy, too, if not for the gun pointed to his head.

"Hey, easy!" Leo shouts.

"It's fine," says Zef. "Look, see?" He holds up the bottle. "Just antibiotics."