Page 149 of String Boys

“Yeah. He forgets to eat. Amara texted me last month and asked if there was some sort of religious vow he’d taken to wear crappy T-shirts. I bought him a fuckton of clothes on Amazon and had them delivered. She says he got them, but she was the one who put them in his drawers.”

Kelly let out a little moan. “I… he was supposed to do okay,” he said, his throat raw.

“Well, she came home this week, and she said she’s been texting him daily to remind him to eat. They’ve got some other roommate there periodically.Shethinks he’s got a crush on Seth, but she told him to sleep on the couch as often as he could just to make sure Seth did human things. He’s not… not here on Earth, Kelly. His music is gorgeous—I know you’ve heard it. But that’s the only part of him that’s working.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.“He… it’s been six months. He was supposed to do okay.”

“Well, yeah. But you guys are supposed to be together.”

Kelly shook his head. “My brother’s….” And he couldn’t say it. Matty had maybe a week, maybe a month. But Kelly couldn’t say the word now. Not after how Matty was today, being human, being sorry.

Being real.

“Yeah. Do you really want to wait until then?” Craig’s smile—his face was lined, maybe a little more than a man’s should be at forty-five, and his hair was silvering. But his smile was Seth’s. There was so much hope, so much gratitude in that smile, for the things he had, the things that had not yet been taken away.

Kelly was suddenly exhausted. “I….” Well, he needed to work, but Matty had his computer.Goddammit.

“Your mom’s calling the hospice nurse,” Craig said softly. “We decided on the way home. It’s time to get help with him. You can sleep downstairs tonight. I think she wants to be here.”

Kelly nodded, suddenly just fucking done. “Can I use your computer?” At least to check email. His tablet had stuff in the cloud, but Craig’s laptop didn’t have Kelly’s art programs.

“Yeah. Sure. Who’s got your computer?”

At that moment the shared printer started spitting stuff out in the home office corner of the tiny living room. Agnes hurried out and grabbed a bubble mailer and the pages, turned them away, and folded them like she was resisting the impulse to look.

“You can have your tablet back in a minute, Kelly,” she said over her shoulder as she hurried back into the sickroom.

“Sure.” Kelly looked at Craig and nodded. It was seven o’clock, and he needed some peace and some quiet and a chance to get his heart clear. And he needed to get his computer back from Matty. And he needed a change of clothes for tomorrow, and a drawing pad, and his phone.

And he needed Seth.

He’d always needed Seth.

It had been madness to try to live his life without him.

He was sitting on Craig’s couch, the television muted in front of him, when he finally texted.

He’s got maybe a week. Please, Seth, for Matty. Please come home.

It took Seth less than a minute to reply.

Not for Matty. For you, Kelly. All you had to do was ask.

Good.

The TV droned on, performing a marionette dance for all Kelly knew. He had his tablet back—what heshouldbe doing was work. The firm that had hired him and agreed to let him work from home was generous, but he still had deadlines.

Only he couldn’t think. Not now. Couldn’t concentrate, not on his tablet, not on TV.

And his brain was a fucking hamster wheel, like his life had been, the whole of it, running as fast as he could to be with the boy he loved and always ending up right back here, in the same exact place.

In desperation, he grabbed a pad of paper from Craig’s office and a pencil, and then pulled up Seth’s YouTube channel and set it to play.

And then he pretended that they were kids again, and Seth was standing behind the couch, practicing with that weird intensity that he brought to his music, brought to his lovemaking, and to nothing else in the world.

And Kelly was drawing random pictures that weren’t random at all.

Seth’s hands, long and supple, his eyes, like green lasers, seeing to the heart of the things he loved best. His mouth, wide and generous, and his white teeth, nibbling at his lower lip as he concentrated on something particularly difficult.