Page 152 of Should the Sky Fall

“You don’t even remember any of it,” Dawson argues feebly.

The smile Cal gives him is so sad and devastated, it makes it hard to breathe. “But you do.” His gaze drops to the papers. Then he offers them to Dawson. “Here.”

Dawson takes them with a frown. What’s he supposed to do with them?

His heart comes to a staggering halt when he looks down, Cal’s signature is scribbled on the bottom of the first page. And the next. And the next.

“W-what?” Dawson stutters, feeling as though all the air has been sucked out of his lungs.

“This is what you wanted,” Cal says gently. “And me being in an accident shouldn’t change it.” He lifts his hand, hovering over Dawson’s. He hesitates before finally touching him, as if expecting him to balk. “You’re a wonderful, loving person and I know you wanted to help me because…” He chuckles self-deprecatingly. “That’s who you are. You always try to help. But I think it’s time you start taking care of yourself first.”

Dawson shakes his head so fast his vision spins. “I don’t want this.” He tries to give the papers to Cal, but he pushes his hand back.

“Yes. Yes, you do,” he says firmly when Dawson wants to argue. “This is proof.”

“That was before!” Dawson says, the volume of his voice rising as panic squeezes his throat. “Things have changed. You have changed. We both have.”

“You’re right. And I know what I have to do.” Cal licks his lips and gestures at the papers. “I didn’t understand everything. Actually, I understood very little, but I want you to have whatever you want. The apartment, the money. It’s yours.”

Dawson blinks, and wetness slides down his cheeks. Cal might’ve as well reached into his chest and crushed his heart. “That’s it? After everything, you’re just going to leave? I don’t want the stupid apartment Cal, or the fucking money.”

Cal averts his eyes. “Dawson…”

“No!” He tosses the papers aside, uncaring where they land. “You said we are happy. You said—”

Cal grips his arms, trying to make him stay still. “Dawson. Listen to me.”

Shaking his head, Dawson fists Cal’s shirt, his eyes filling up so quickly that everything is a blur. “Please.”

“You’re the most important thing in my life. The only important thing,” Cal says, voice filled with pain. “When I woke up in that hospital, I didn’t remember anything. I didn’t recognize the sound of my voice or the feeling of my own body. I looked in the mirror and saw a stranger.” He cups Dawson’s cheek in his warm, soft palm. There’s the barest hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. “But then I saw you and I knew…I knew I’d do anything to keep you safe. I knew in my heart I was supposed to protect you. And now, I’ve learned that this whole time, you needed protecting from me.”

“Cal…”

“You areeverythingto me,” he says with ardency that shakes Dawson. “So I need you to do this for me, okay? One last thing.” His hands tremble when they cradle Dawson’s face, so gentle, like he’s something precious and fragile. “I want—Ineedyou to be safe. I need you to behappy.” He holds Dawson’s gaze. “Even if it’s not with me.”

Even if it’s not with me.

Words lodge in Dawson’s throat. He wants to tell Cal it can’t be anyone else. There’s no one else he wants to take silly pictures with, paint bad art with, watch rom-coms with, go for walks on the beach with. He wants to tell him he can’t imagine his life without burnt pancakes or pink towels, without breakfast in bed and arguing over donuts.

Now that he knows what it’s like, he can’t imagine a life where he’s not completely, utterly, hopelessly in love with the man in front of him.

He wants to tell Cal all this, but then Cal starts to move away, to leave, and all those thoughts go out of the window.

He fists Cal’s shirt, holding on so tight he hears the fabric rip.

“It is.”

Cal closes his eyes, shaking his head. “Dawson…”

“It is.”

He pushes into Cal’s space and cups his face, smiling at the feeling of Cal’s scruff against his palms. His fingers dig into the back of Cal’s neck, not allowing him to look away. Dawson needs him to look at him, to see, to understand. To believe.

“It is with you.” His grip tightens when Cal opens his mouth, no doubt planning to argue. “With you.” He feels a sense of victory when Cal’s eyes well up. It’s a terrible thing to feel—he doesn’t want to cause Cal pain—but if it means he’s getting through to him, he’ll gladly take it.

“You said you wanted me to be happy.”

“I do,” Cal says, voice cracking.