Time To Go

Twenty: John O

The sunlight spills over his face, leaving long shadows across his bruised cheeks. Silent tears course down his cheeks, his lips trembling with the effort of holding back as much of them as he can. His eyes swivel down to me, filled with unshed, warm tears.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "You shouldn't have to see this."

"It's fine," I whisper, pushing my head into the crevice between his neck and shoulder and pushing affectionately, like a cat. "Cry all you need to, Kennedy."

He shakes his head. "I hate this. It makes me feel stupid."

"Crying helps your emotions," I say quietly. "It helps you calm down, rather than keeping it all bottled up inside. I learned that when I first came here."

He bites his lip, sniffing once or twice and wiping his eyes. He lets out a shaking breath and says, "I'm okay now... really." He smiles shakily and I smile back.

"Do you know who did this to you?" I ask quietly.

He shakes his head. "I really don't know, there was a group of them... all I know is that the guy who started on me was Ashley's brother."

"Who's Ashley?" I ask, frowning.

"A girl," he shrugs. "All I can remember is that after ten pints and a fucked-up blowjob behind a garbage can, suddenly the world seemed a lot more shit than it used to be. And then after an angst-filled moment involving a wall which somehow managed to upset me, I exploded at her and told her I was with you."

"Oh."

He's so blunt, as if he has already accepted the fact that he's going to be prejudiced for the rest of his life. "I'm envious of you," he continues. "You get to escape early." He pauses, looking at his still-shaking hands. "I would have liked to go through all of this with you."

"Kenny..." I say quietly.

"Yeah? What's wrong?" He looks down at me, his eyes wide and concerned.

"Do you ever wonder... if you had met me on the street... would you've walked straight past me?"

He shrugs. "I don't know, John... I'd rather not break my brain with a time-destroying paradox."

I smile. "So you can thank the cancer for-"

"I have nothing to thank the cancer for, John O'Callaghan. Don't you ever tell me that."

"It's thanks to the cancer that you're here with me now," I point out.

"Exactly," Kennedy says, coughing conveniently and moaning as my eyes fall upon a deepened scratch that is still gently oozing with blood.

"Oh... right." I say quietly.

His hand reaches out for the television remote and points it at the TV. It flicks onto the Disney Channel, where Hannah Montana is on the stage, lip-syncing her heart out.