A Match Made In Hell

Chapter 16: The Stage of Denial

Keefe POV

It's very hard to get over someone when you see them every night in your dreams.

After a day of ignoring him at school, a night of just talking to him feels like all is forgiven. Even though it's not. I started looking forward to my sleep, even though I shouldn't have. Waking up was torture, and I spent the long day in anticipation to when we would meet again.

Then, of course, I had a nightmare.

I should've seen it coming. Trust something it betrays.

In the nightmare, I wake up and I'm in his bed. I turn around and he's in the bed as well. But his chest is rising and falling rapidly, like he's hyperventilating. He's crying. No, crying makes it sound like something beautiful and pretty. This is horrible. He's sobbing. He's a mess. He doesn't even raise his hands to cover his face. It's like he's dying.

"Tam, what's-"

"Why, Keefe?" He looks up at me, his eyes black holes. "Why did you do this to me?"

"I-I didn't do any-"

"I love you so much. I still do." He wiped his tears, "Why do I still...why do I..."

"Tam, you're not making sense.." I check his forehead, and it's burning hot. "I think you're sick."

"You're sicker." He said, pouting.

"Okay, we're both contaminated. Do you want a kiss?" I ask, just to make him happy.

He smiled shyly, "Yes."

We both lean in and he grabs my chin forcefully, stopping me from touching his lips, "you killed me."

His body falls weakly into my lap, folding up like a lawn chair. I turn him over, and his chest is covered in streams of red. I grab his arms and shake him, begging for him to wake up, begging him for a do-over, even though it's too late.

I wake up and run to the bathroom before I vomit in my bed.

Staring my puke in the eyes, I wonder what it'd be like if Tam was in bed right now. He'd follow me in, he'd hold up my hair, he'd put a soft hand to my forehead and then cluck disapprovingly about how I don't take care of myself. Then he'd probably insist on staying for two extra days, and even if I refused, he'd check on me everyday.

Because he's not just a good friend; he's a good lover. A good lover I don't get to have.

It's too fucking late to be thinking such sad things.

Tears sting my eyes, and sense no one is around to tell me otherwise, I let the tears fall onto the sink counter. No shame in crying in secret.

I check the clock: 4:17 am. School starts at 7, so there's no point in going back to sleep. I start gelling my hair, and hear Ro grumble from the other room, "He's at it again."

I quickly clean the sink and dry my eyes.

"H.H you good?" Ro asks from outside my door.

"Yes! How could I not be?" I ask, laughing at her as if it was impossible for me to feel anything but happiness.

"I don't know, I just heard something that sounded like crying and vomiting and I thought 'huh, he doesn't sound like he's doing good'." Ro twisted the knob and opened the bathroom door. "Is this because of That One Guy?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I say, forming spikes in my hair with my silky hands.

"Keefe, it's pretty obvious that he meant something to you." Ro rolled her eyes.