Bloody Texas

I Still Love Him

Keith stared down at the sleeping Lance in his arms. Between his chest and a sea of fluffy white blankets lied his most prized possession. His lips were parted and his eyebrows were messy. Stories were painted all over his macchiato skin, from past hurt to intense love. Everything about Lance was beautiful and had the power to bring Keith to his knees. He kissed his forehead as the night before ran through his mind.

Their first time. It was perfect. Keith loved the man in his arms more than he had loved anything else in his life. He didn't think it was possible to feel this way for another person, but Lance proved him wrong. Keith slowly leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his lips before untangling himself from him and getting out of bed.

Keith didn't realize he was crying until Josh started to freak out. "Dude, are you okay?"

Being brought back to reality was painful. Keith wiped his glaring eyes and stood up from the library table. "You have such terrible timing." His ring tapped the wood as he got up, robbing his attention once more. He fiddled with it as Josh continued to bother him.

"Seriously, if you need to talk or whatever—like—I'm right here." He outstretched his arms to motion to himself.

Keith tore his eyes away from his ring and scanned the room. "Libraries...are hard for me...to be in." A group of people with stacks of papers and books debated the questions on their assignments. A cute chubby girl read a book alone in the corner. Two guys talked as they used a computer. Everything goes on. Things continue without Lance. Even if he wasn't there, Keith saw and felt his presence in everything he touched. Lance was studying with the group, chewing on the end of a pen. Lance was reading alone in the corner, sending cheeky glares over at him. Lance was chatting while playing on the computer, using his hands to speak.

"Why?" Josh gave him a confused look. "Are you alright, man?"

Keith ignored the stares he was getting. He groaned and violently rubbed his eyes with his fists. After a few moments of silence, he snatched his textbook from the table and walked away.

Mark answered the door with a bright smile until he saw Keith's tears. He pulled him into a hug and cradled his head.

Keith clung to his beige sweater and cried into his shoulder. "He's gone, Mark."

"Yeah," he tightened his hold, "He's gone, Keith."

Keith shook his head and sobbed, "I can't do this anymore!" He opened his eyes and looked up at the clouds. The same sky that he and Lance talked about their children under. "I can't do it, Mark! He's everywhere!"

Mark pulled back and grabbed his shoulders. "Hey—hey, what's up? What are you talking about?"

Keith lowered his voice to a broken whisper, "He's always there, but I can't touch him." His throat tightened with more tears, "I can't do this, Mark. Who am I kidding? I can't handle this."

Mark furrowed his brows in concern and patted his shoulders, "You can't do what, Keith?"

Keith stared into his eyes for a silent minute. "I...I can't be a doctor, Mark." He took in a choppy breath. "Lance is always there—in the desk next to me, the seat on the other side of the dinner table, walking in the sunlight, spelled out in the words on the pages of my textbook—he's always there!" He shook his head as his hands started to shake, "I can't do it anymore! I can't keep waking up and being reminded that the love of my life is dead! I can't do it!"

Mark didn't speak for a moment, but when he did, it wasn't hostile. "Stay here for tonight. Claire won't mind. Just...take a day off and stay here."

Keith watched his tears crash down on the porch. "I don't wanna go back."

Mark led him inside with a sigh, directing him to the couch. "Just sit down. I have something for you."

Keith followed his instructions and sat down on his white leather couch. Mark's house was clean and orderly—as if it came out of a Home & Gardens magazine. It was enough to distract Keith for a few minutes.

When Mark returned, Keith turned to acknowledge him and felt his heart immediately drop. Draped in his arms was a faint pink sweater. Mark cautiously walked over and handed it to him. "It...still smells like Lance."

Keith hesitantly lifted it from his hold and hugged it to his chest. He took a deep breath of the fabric—which, in fact, was saturated with Lance. The tears returned to his stinging eyes as his chest tightened with the pain.

"You're hugging me too tight," Lance hung on his neck with a strained giggle.

Keith lowered his voice to a broken whisper, "I love you."

Lance pulled away a little, "I love you, too. You know that." He cupped his cheeks and let out a happy sigh. "Hey, listen to me for a sec."

Keith placed his hand on the back of Lance's and nuzzled into his palm.

Lance responded with a kiss on his forehead, "Hey, Keith?" The pink sweater had become baggy on him, fighting to stay on both shoulders. He looked into his eyes and emphasized every word. "Go back. Do it for me." He gave a somber chuckle, "You were always so much stronger."

"I know it's not much, but..." Mark shifted his weight and rubbed the back of his neck, "Well, you didn't bring any of his clothes with you when you left and I thought maybe...you needed this."

Keith breathed in the fabric hard enough to sting his lungs. "Mark," he lifted his teary eyes. "This is exactly what I needed."