"¡Hola, hola! Si, me llamo Gloria, hubo un accidente y mis amigos estan heridos, muy mal heridos, y tienes que enviar ayuda con rapi--yes, sorry, sorry."

My left side is starting to hurt. Badly. I look down but I don't see anything, so I ignore it.

"My name is Gloria, and I'm on a bus, and there's been some sort of accident. I don't know what happened but the bus has flipped, and there's one man unconscious with something sticking out of his side--"

Hearing Gloria say that makes me shudder.

"--and a young woman here with her leg broken severely, and there's a man pinned under the seats, and another who seems okay but I think his scalp is going to need stitches, and--Tristan! What about you, are you alright--what, me? Um."

I watch as Gloria wipes at her face and winces. "I have glass in my face from the window and I can't see from my one eye--"

She breaks down and I hold back my own tears.

"Our driver is dead, and it's gross, and I don't want to lose my eye and I don't want any of my friends to die, so please, you have to come quickly!"

~

"Do you have to go?"

I look down at Orion. We're in his bed. I thought he was asleep, and maybe he was, but he's awake now.

I had been looking at all of his band posters and pictures. I'll never forget the first time I saw them. I thought he was insane; I quickly understood he wasn't insane, merely passionate.

"Yes," I say.

"I don't want you to," he tells me softly, and I can tell by the tone in his voice he's near tears.

"I don't want to, either."

"Then don't."

"Orion...it's not that easy. You know that."

He sits up. "But isn't it? You don't need that job. You don't need an apartment, I have more money than I know what to do with, you can just stay here with--"

I sit up, gently putting my two fingers to his lips. "Love...My work depends on me. I can't just leave them high and dry. And I just signed my lease. The landlord is banking on my rent. I can't rip someone's livelihood away from them."

Orion shakes his head, looking defeated. "You're such a caring person Tristan. How did you end up with--" He cuts himself off and looks away.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Orio, what?"

I don't want him to close himself off. I hate it when he does that. Because then I have to take the proverbial pry bar, bust down the door where he's hiding, and drag him out of the dark room he's put himself in. What's worse is he usually comes out battered and wounded. I hate seeing him like that. I'd give anything to never see him like that.

"I was going to say, how you ended up with someone like me, but that's a stupid--I mean a silly-- thing to think, and it's self-deprecating, and I shouldn't think things like that because they aren't true."

I'm genuinely floored. Excitedly I grab both his hands. "Orio...that was beautiful."

He laughs bitterly and looks off to the side. "Yeah, all the therapy is starting to sink in."

"That's wonderful," I try to encourage him.

He looks at me. His glower softens, and then the faintest hint of a smile plays on his lips. "Yeah, I guess it is, isn't it?"

I cup the side of his face and stroke his cheek with my thumb. "You're beautiful."

For a moment it looks like he's going to snap at me some sarcastic comment. But instead he stops himself, smiles, and kisses me tenderly.

We end up making love for the fifth time then in twenty-four hours. But this time it's different. This time it's sad. It's slow, with lots of murmurs, telling each other how much we love each other, talking about how we're never going to leave each other. And he's facing me and clinging to me, shaking like a leaf in a storm, and I can feel his tears trickling down my shoulder as he cries into it.

And I don't want this to stop, I just want to hold him in my arms forever. And I know when this is over I have to take my bags, go to the airport, and leave him. And Lord, I don't want to leave him. Even though I know it's not the last time in my life I'm going to see him, it sure feels like it. And I know he feels that, too, the way he's holding onto me as though I might just magically disappear from his arms.

And when we're done we just lay in bed not saying anything. My poor Orio's eyes are red-rimmed from crying. He's not looking at my face, but looking at my chest.

I have his palm in my hand, and I'm tracing over it with my fingers like he's done with my hand countless times. I feel bad. They're scarred, palms filled with tiny crescent-moon shapes from where he's dug his nails in time and time again. I wonder how long he's done that for, but I'm afraid to ask... I'm afraid it might trigger him, and I'm afraid to know the answer.

I look at his arms furtively and I'm happy to see there are nothing but scars there, no fresh wounds. I know he hates his arms. I know how much he regrets mutilating them like that. He's self-conscious about how they look.

"I hate them," he whispers, and I kick myself for getting caught looking there. "They're so skinny, and the skin is so thin it looks gross, and what I've done--"

"Stop it." I kiss all along his arm, and I feel him shudder against me. "I love every part about you."

A pause, and then, "I believe you..." He sounds as though he's going to say something else but doesn't.

For a little while we sit in silence. Finally I have to ask him a question that's run through my mind before. "Orio...if your arms bother you so much, why don't you just get tattoos? You're a rock star--it'd fit. No one would be the wiser."

He shakes his head at me. "I'm not one to cover up my mistakes, Tristan. Not anymore."

I wrap his arm that I had been kissing around me. Orion looks at me then, his eyes wide and innocent looking.

"Is it wrong for me to be afraid of how much you love me?"

That line of questioning frightens me, because I don't know where he's going with this. I'm still guarded when he says things like that. I hate it when he's cryptic.

"Why would you be afraid of that?"

He drops his eyes. "Because I'm afraid one day you won't love me as much, and that thought kills me."

I kiss the top of his head. "Never."

An hour later we're standing at the terminal at the airport. He's dressed as to be expected--black hoodie with the hood up, black prescription sunglasses obscuring his eyes. We're standing facing each other, holding hands as people rush around us. We've been standing here for awhile now. Standing--just standing. My flight is at three. I know I have to board soon. Like, minutes soon. If I could just stop time, I would.

"Thanks for the ride," I mumble. We're both staring at our feet.

Orion simply nods once, and I think he may be crying. The PA announces my flight is now boarding. Orion throws himself at me then, hugging me tightly.

"I don't want you to leave," he cries into my shoulder. "I really, really, really don't want you to leave."

"I'll be back this weekend."

"That isn't soon enough."

I answer him honestly. "I know."

He stops hugging me and looks at me, wiping the tears off his cheeks. He forces a grin. "So this morning you said you were super gay for doing ballet. Could you please continue to be super gay and text me everyday?"

I laugh. "How about this? I'll one up you, and call you everyday to say goodnight, too."

He shudders and smiles. "I'd love that."

Then Orion surprises me. He kisses me. In front of everyone. I know previously there's no way he would have done that. He would have been too worried about paparazzi, or fans or something. I'm not sure what's changed in the year since I saw him last, but something has. I'm really happy it has.

As though reading my mind, Orion smiles at me when we're done. "I love you so much. I want the world to know that."

I grin. He lets go of me. The shock of his body not being there hurts. My boyfriend shoves me then and forces a grin, hiding his pain even though it's so evident to me.

"Now get out of here before I change my mind and drag your sorry ass back to the car."

But I don't smile. I feel shitty for not smiling, but I just can't right now. "Goodbye Orion."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."