Together Apart

Chapter Five: August

Liam says the interview went well. That doesn't really mean anything coming from him, but he does seem to be in a better mood as we descend back into the subway. Even though it's Sunday, the station is still packed with people, most of them tourists in the city for the weekend. I groan under my breath. I hate tourists, and more than that I hate crowds. I hold tight to Liam, not wanting to lose him in the chaos. The next train isn't for another ten minutes, so we find a spot on the platform to wait. I check my phone; my friends are making plans for dinner at Estrellita's. I look back up at Liam, who is staring down the tunnel.

-"Yo, would you be down to go to Estrellita's for dinner tonight? My friends are going," I ask, hoping his good mood will carry over. However, his face changes, annoyance and anger rising in his eyes.

-"I don't really feel like socializing right now. I'd prefer to just get takeout or something and eat in the room."

-"You never feel like socializing. Come on man, I just came all the way down here for your interview, it's my turn."

-"An interview you made me apply to! And why is it always your turn, August, why do we never do what I want?" His voice is rising in volume, and several people turn to look at us. I lean closer to him, trying to avoid causing a scene.

-"We could do what you wanted, but it seems like all you want to do is keep me from having a social life!" I'm getting heated as well now. "We're going to dinner."

"Are you fucking serious?" He rips his hand out of mine, and immediately my headache returns. "My entire fucking life is a sidenote to yours! I'm not you, your friends are not my friends, and I'm tired of you making me feel bad for telling you how I feel. Fuck you, August." He's practically yelling now, and people are staring. His eyes are burning with a fire I've never seen before, and I'm worried he's about to hit me, but then he realizes what he's doing, and he takes a ragged breath to calm himself, eyes darting left and right. "You said I was a burden. You're right, but at least I'm not lying to myself. You're not the stellar person you think you are, and no matter how hard you try, we'll never be friends." He mumbles something else under his breath.

-"What did you just say?" I ask, bristling.

-"I wish you were dead so that I could be free of you," he spits at me.

I maintain my composure, but his words cut deep. I had always thought that if we weren't friends we were at least partners, that we would support each other until we figured out how to separate ourselves. But all this time, was I just using Liam to support myself? That's too hard to think about, so I settle for being mad instead. I turn away from him, just in time to see the train come out of the tunnel and begin to slow down. The cars are already packed, and there must be hundreds more people on the platform waiting to get on. The doors open in front of me, and as I push my way through the rush of people, I lose sight of Liam, though I trust he's right behind me, purposely avoiding being seen. I make my way onto the train and turn around to face the doors as they close, only to meet Liam's terrified gaze through the window. He didn't make it on. My heart drops. I lurch forward, trying to stop the doors from closing, but I'm too late. I shout his name, my voice cracking with terror. The train begins to move, and the edges of my vision blur; my mind is white with fear. This is how I die, I suppose.

I cling as tightly as I can to the pole in the center of the car not knowing what else to do. My head is pounding now, and my stomach feels like it's being squeezed in a vice. I try to focus on my breathing, on keeping my face serene so no one around me sees what's happening. I start to chant to myself under my breath, running through every protection spell I know. This is ancient magic, far more powerful than the kitchen witchcraft practiced by the average New Yorker, and I might be exposing myself, but at the moment I have more pressing issues to worry about. My insides are being ripped out; someone is holding a red hot poker to my brain. I can feel tears beginning to well up in my eyes. Thank god for all the weirdos on the New York subway; no one will think twice if I cry. The hand that's not holding the pole is clenched in a fist, my fingernails digging into my palms. The world starts to go black, and my lungs won't expand. Finally, after an eternity, the train stops again, and I spill out onto the platform, barely making it to a trashcan so I can throw up. Tears stream down my face as I stand there retching, spitting out blood mixed with bile. When I'm done, I manage to drag myself to a bench. There's almost no one at this station, and those that are here are steering clear of the crying, puking, crazed looking man on the bench. I claw my phone out of my pocket, only to find dozens of increasingly frantic messages from Liam. I manage to get myself together enough to tap out a simple reply; "next stop.please it hurts." My phone slides out of my hand onto the bench next to me, and I pull my legs into my chest, trying to curl into myself while I wait. The pain is still indescribable, and I'm starting to lose feeling in my limbs. My body feels heavy, and my breathing is shallow. I cough into my hand; when I pull it away from my mouth, there's blood.

I know when Liam gets on the train because my pain begins to get slightly, imperceptibly, more bearable. It fades infinitesimally, and I'm still unable to think straight when another train pulls into the station, and a blurry figure that looks vaguely like Liam bursts out, running toward me. When he's almost at my bench, I meet his eyes, pleading silently; they are bloodshot. He has red lines trailing from his nose and ears. I must look similar. He covers the last few feet in one bound, reaching out to grab the first skin he sees. As soon as his hands land on my cheek, my vision clears. The torture I'd been enduring washes away in seconds, and I breathe deeply. I finally unclench my fists, and my palms are bloody from where my fingernails have broken skin. Despite the blood, I wrap my arms around Liam, drawing him tight to me, clutching the back of his neck. I vaguely hope that I don't ruin his nice shirt. But all that matters is that I'm touching him. "I don't really want you to die," he whispers into my shoulder.

We remain like that, heads buried in each other's necks, faces pressed together, huddled on a bench in a D train station in Lower Manhattan, for what feels like an hour. We're both crying. Finally, I pull my head away, looking him in the eye. I'm still breathing heavily, trying to absorb as much oxygen as possible before it's taken from me again. Suddenly, all I want is to be safe in my bed next to Liam. "Can we go home?" I ask, my voice shaky. He nods. We stand together, helping each other up, still clinging tightly to each other. The subway is simply not happening; in silent agreement, we walk up the stairs into the street, where Liam pulls out his phone and calls an Uber. Our driver looks a little concerned when he sees us; probably the blood. He asks if we're okay. We tell him we're just trying to get home.

The ride is similarly silent, punctuated only by Liam's occasional dry coughs. We get dropped off just outside the campus gates, and trudge hand in hand down the path, into the building, and up the stairs to our room. As soon as the door closes, we work in unison to remove our shoes, pants, and shirts without ever breaking contact. I rip back the covers on my bed, and pull Liam down with me, wrapping myself around him to create as many points of contact as possible. We're facing each other, a change from our usual spooning position. Liam encircles me with his arms and pulls me in as tightly as possible; I bury my face in his bare chest. Something about being safe at last lets loose a flood of raw emotion I've been holding in. I begin to cry, full sobs wracking my body. I can feel Liam trembling; he's crying too. We hold each other tighter, riding the waves of fear and pain and exhaustion together, one soul. His smell is the last thing I remember before falling asleep. It's warm and comforting.