◜mr. blue skies ◝

  there was a time when life had raised him in the hue of tear stained sleeves  ,  and a relentless father that would point down at his son and tell him -----  men don’t cry  . was he a man  ,  or was he a boy  ?  in the light of emotions he had suppressed until he could no longer feel the void of being crushed by their weight  ,  he had needed a reason to tear up  .  when he was eight  ,  his parents had announced their divorce  .  as a child ,  dylan had mustered up the courage to slam his hand between a closet door  ------    so that he had been allowed to cry ,  had been allowed to free himself of stained cheeks and puffy eyes  ,  without the bearing curses from a father who pledged allegiance to an emotionless exterior  .  his mother  ,  in her hue of golden hair  ,  and ankle length dresses  , pets his head and brushes curls from touching his eyes  .  it’s okay baby  ,  you’re allowed to cry ---  words echoed in the back of his head now  ,  a hard swallow threatening to choke him as he glanced up to tired blue eyes  .  she’s teetering on stepping forward  , but something inside her must have tethered her feet to him  ,  while his were anchored in place  .  she’s begging him to look at her  ,  and he can’t ---  meeting her gaze for only a moment  ,  before drifting away  .  his pacing tone  ,  kicks back in  ,  and her voice is just background noise to the thoughts in his head  .  “fuck--” hands raked through curls that were growing wildly out of control  ,  shaky hands  ,  clammed palms  .  sweat is starting to drip down the dip of his shoulders  ,  drenching the shirt in his body trying to rid itself of the fever  ,  the chills  .  tears stained dark eyes  ,  flickered with honey and gold  ,  and it burns ----  in a bright scratchy red  .  fuck  ,  fuck ----- fuck -  a mantra in his head  ,  repeating over and over again until his breathing became ragged  ,  until he felt like he might vividly  ,  pass out  .  his back is turned to her now  ,  and his gaze is staring at the inconsistent black screen of dead monitors  ,  and machines he never thought he’d had the pleasure of knowing personally .  she’s speaking  ,  and he wants to believe her  ,  he wants to step into whatever faith that raked through her chest  ,  and just -------   believe  .  but he saw the bodies  ,  and he saw the panic  ,  and it was brewing in the darkest parts of his chest   .  and god --------     he was afraid  .  “i used to think about dying all the time-”  words cut off  ,  salvaged by the deep furrowing of a cough  ,  and the faintest taste of crimson   .  “how easy it would have been  ..”  another darted gaze  , shoving calloused fingertips into dress slacks he had still worn from the wake  .  “and then -- we got on the buses ..” you can feel how tired he is  ,  how hard he’s trying to stand up straight  ,  how looking at her hurts him  . the back of his hand  ,  touches his eyes  ,  and he’ll blink the tears away  ,  trying to salvage himself  .  you’re not a boy  --  dylan  .  “i didn’t even want to go to the party that night -- i think ...  selene or maybe eliza talked me into it..” his tongue pressed against his cheek  ,  loosening his jaw  . “and then i met you  ..” voice cracked  ,  and he sniffles  ,  only slightly  .  “the suddenly ---” lips pursed  ,  cracked and brittle  .  “i wanted more time - you know? i wanted to --- take you on a date  ,  or to the movies  ..  out to dinner  .. i wanted to wake up the next day and the world be normal again --- i just wanted to--” he’s staring at the floor now  ,  blankly  ,  no longer trying to keep the expressions from his face  ,  no longer trying to wipe the emotions away  .  “i just wanted more time  .. and i don’t know if we’re ever going to get that now ---” take him  ,  he’ll plead  .  take him instead  ,  take whoever else you want  ,  universe  --------      just not her  .  

  anxiety is crept up the nape of his neck  ,  it chilled  ,  and tapped on the back of his shoulder like a bewildering ghost  .  the sweat had already started  ,  keeping him cold  ,  dipped down his shirt  ,  in between the blades of his shoulders  ,  and sticking the fabric to his skin  .  he’ll watch her  ,  in quiet agony  .  she stepped back ,  and there’s a waver of her voice  ,  of distance between them set in shifted feet  .  he feels sick  ------   and it’s not because of minnie’s blood  ,  or any outbreak  --- it’s because having her so close to him days ago  ,  only to have this -- whatever it was -- between them  ?  it made him quite literally want to throw up  .  his heart is pounding  ,  it’s racing , it’s shocking him back to life and killing him over and over again in a repetitive cycle  .  because  ,  he looks at her  ,  and he knows she’s not okay  .  he knows that they had been around ben  ,  he knows that the fact they were together the other night  ,  could have been a reason why they had been left in the situation they were in now  .  was it his fault  ?  had he given it to her  ?  had she given it to him  ?  it didn’t matter  ,  all that matters was that she was okay ---  that she figured out a way to stop this  .  so he swallowed   ,  and anxious fingertips tapped at his side  ,  over and over again  .  he doesn’t try to move  ,  not again -----   not after the way she pulled back  .  instead  ,  he nodded  ,  and swallowed  .  “i-” pursed lips  ,  suddenly dry  ,  and he coughs into his elbow  ,  making a stitched effort to pull away from her  ,  if she wasn’t sick  --- he didn’t need to make things worse  .  seconds felt like minutes  ,  and minutes stretched into miles  .  “i think --- i have a fever--” he finally spoke  ,  and it’s muffled  ,  and he’s swallowing hard  .  “d-do you want me to leave  ?”  his gaze flickered back to the area set for quarantine  ,  before landing back on her with a dip in his head  .  “i- i can’t go back in there---” it’s restricted  ,  through the blank stare  ,  and all he wants to do is leap forward  .  he wants to know what it would be like to touch her again  ,  to hold her  ,  and if he can’t -----   if him being here is only a distraction  ,  then he’ll leave  ..  he’ll leave and it doesn’t matter what happens to him as long as she’s spared  . “i’m sorry i didn’t--” he can feel the lump rising in he back of his throat  ,  and it’s cracked  ,  almost broken  .  “i couldn’t just--” he’s trying to find the right words to say  ,  shifting back and cowering his hands back behind his head  .  he’ll pace  ,  back and forth  .  “i couldn’t just leave her there  --” no matter if it was minnie  ,  no matter who it was  .  “i didn’t mean to--” get sick  ?  get everyone else sick  ?  “do you think-” he sucks in a breath  .  “do you think we’re going to ---” for the longest time  ,  he thought about death  .  he thought about the silence  ,  and the way it would have been nice to feel nothing at all  .  but not now  ,  not when he’s so close -----    not when he finally has her  .  “i-i should leave  .. you’re right-” 

   respiration is heaved in a bellowed sigh that scratches his lungs  .  you could hear it ,  the wet cough  ,  and the way he breathed -----   like he had been smoking cigarettes for years  .  it was subtle  ,  but he coughed  ,  and it sounded like the others  .  the others   -------   he refused to acknowledge  .  he hates this  ,  hates hospitals -  hates being stuck here  ,  pushed around in a room  .  told what to do  ,  where to go  .  there were lights in his face  ,  and unkempt hands touching him  ,  prodding at every which angle  . you could see the stress in visibly tensed shoulders  ,  and the sweat start to drip down the under the surgical green v-cut  .  he’s glancing down at his hands  ,  and how they touched minnies  .  the mirror of her eyes  ,  is stilled burned into the back of his head  .  the blood  -----    there was so much blood  .  and then he can hear her  ,  and the sharpest of voices  ,  had spun him back into reality  ,  like whiplash  .  footing is hauled against tile floor ,  and he’s gripping the metal waste bin so tight  ,  his knuckles whitened  .  lips pursed ,  and he can’t look up  -  he can’t  .  because he knows she’s sick  ,  without even having to look at her  .  thoughts of this place came back to haunt him  ,  all the times he paced back forth in waiting rooms just like the one outside of this  .  how many times ------    he waited to see if his mom would walk out again  .  a handful of sugar  ,  do you think it made the medicine go down  ?  how many pills she took  ,  and how many times she tried  .  it’s burned into his retinas  ,  it’s scorched into a memory that he’s buried  ,  and avoided  . but this --- it felt real  .  finally  ,  brown eyes  ,  dimmed with hues of purple  ,  look up and over   .  “minnie got sick  .” he finally said  ,  and it’s quiet  . “it’s her blood  .”  he wouldn’t lie to her ------    not like he had with selene  .  “but i’m fine-” as if trying to convince himself  ,  he stepped forward  ,  dangerously  .  he never wanted to touch anyone more in his entire life  .  but when his gaze reached hers  ,  it hit him like a truck  .  the universe can take whatever it wants from him  ,  it can take his breath from his lungs  ,  or the light in his eyes  ,  it can even take the blood from veins  -------    but it can’t have her  . “a-are you okay?” 

   dylan softened  ,  and shook his head  .  “i’m not trying to avoid you val---” it’s quiet  ,  but his lips pursed  .  the inside of this place was getting dim  ,  and the walls felt like they were shrinking  .  he didn’t have to apologize  ?  it seemed like the only thing he did around her was just that  .  he was sorry  ,  for the on  ,  but more importantly  ,  for the off  .  she was good  ,  and he was -------   complicated  .  “i’ve gotta’ get some air-” it’s wavered  ,  and he’s standing his feet  ,  letting them carry him outside  ,  letting them leave her again  .   in the time it took him to return  ,  chaos had clammed the four corners of halloway  .  he was caught outside  ,  in the ambush of it all  .  somehow  ,  making it to the hospital  ,  and for some reason  ,  and his way back to where it started  .  blood rushed to his head  ,  and he couldn’t be there ----   the beds  ,  the beeping  ,  it was driving him fucking crazy  .  and he wasn’t sick  ,  he wasn’t  .  footsteps are heavy  ,  carried in a jogging motion  ,  until he nearly collided with someone else  .  he stops  ,  just in time to put space between them  .  if you weren’t sick  ,  why were you afraid to touch her  ,  dylan  ?  “wh-what are you still doing here  ?”  words caught in his throat  ,  scratched and dulled  ,  coughing into his sleeve  . 

   he’s changed  ,  the fitted buttons to a white collard shirt  ---  stained with crimson  ,  tossed in a bio hazard bin  .  despite the blood  ,  he’s managed here at the hospital  ,  he wasn’t sick ----- he had never touched ben  ,  he had been careful with minnie  .  however   ,  chills start to trickle up the nape of his neck  ,  and he swallowed  ,  thickly  .  his back presses against the wall  ,  florescent lights too bright for his own good  ,  trying to blink them back  ,  trying not to focus on the ringing inside his head  .  it’s not until someone rounded the corner  ,  does he sharpen an intake of breath ,  launched the shirt of borrowed scrubs  .  “it’s just precaution  .”  he finally tells them  ,  voice muffled as he takes the mask  .  “they’re going to run tests  .”  and then they’d see he was fine  .  that he could figure out a way to help  .  

    he was nearly trampled  ,  halfway stuck between here and the courtyard  .  there was no means to an end  ,  and the darkness that shadowed over them had plagued twice as quick as an outbreak ever could  .  the world had been sick before  -------     and the world would overcome it  . he’s halfway tugged into a release  ,  jaw tightening  ,  shoulder flinching in reflex  . selene stops  ,  and he swears it’s the most space that has ever been dangered between them  .  brown eyes tricked down  ,  scatter of crimson on his shirt  .  a twitch  ,  muscle above his jaw flexes  -------   lines drawn  .  “it’s mine-” he’s never lied to her before  ,  never thought he would have -  but now  ,  the void of being trapped in there  ,  waiting  ,  with sick people  ...  a lie had never been told so easily  ,  and he hates himself for that  . "do-" stepping back , just as quickly , palms raised in defense . "don't--"

  he’s too caught up in the noise  ,  to notice the tears  .  at least  ,  he is at first  .  instead his gaze is focused on the door  ,  the sound of more glass shattering  ,  and ------   screaming  ?  panic starts to settle in his chest  ,  and like slow motion  ,  his glance is petrified to his left  ,  to minnie  .  tears are stained in rows of crimson  ,  and his jaw slacked  .  the back of his throat feels hoarse  ,  dark irses dilated and widened  .  “wh-” it’s stuttered  ,  caught off guard  ,  and he’s stepping backwards  ,  his footing losing it’s balance and nearly tripping over himself  .  but he can’t stop  ,  he can’t stop staring --- and she’s turning towards him  ,  and he doesn’t know what to do  .  alarm  ,  has driven a nail of sudden panic  ,  and he feels dizzy  .  “your eyes--” it’s sharpened  ,  and it’s caught in his throat  ,  until he stepped back again  ,  and falls  .  elbows scrapped against harsh pavement   ,  skinning under rolled up cuffed sleeves  .  he hits the ground with a thud  ,  blood dripped onto the stain of a white button up  ,  and he’s crawling away from her  .  “minnie what’s wrong with your ----” doors are bounced from the hinges  ,  and he’s averted to the right  ,  bodies are fighting to get out of the entrance one by one -----  clawing each other until they did  .  before he can react  ,  instinct and adrenaline are targeted into fight or flight  . a simple grasp on her wrist  ,  and he tugged her frame down to do the ground .  “get down---” rolled into the grass  ,  pulling and flinching as footsteps carried around them like an angry swarm  ,  a parade  , a massacre  . 

  he hadn’t come out for an apology  -----  he hadn’t even expected to give that to her  .  it’s not what she needed ,  not what she wanted  ,  and they had never been close  .  but he does feel for her  ,  it’s portrayed in dress slacks and a button up  .  it’s portrayed  ,  in the way he stands next to her  ,  shoulder to shoulder  ,  giving her the respect to not glance in her direction  .  it was who she was  ,  and he knew that  .  dylan hadn’t expected the grief  ,  and he hadn’t expected the way his chest felt heavy when she spoke  .  out of all people  ,  he never assumed he would have empathy towards  ,  minnie mae  .  but he did  ,  and it’s overwhelming  ,  a tiny nod the underachievement to it all  .  “it’s okay.” and he means it  ,  he really did  .  “friendly competition.” that hadn’t been really friendly at all  .  but instead  ,  he had admired her persistence  .  and although  ,  often times  ,  she would try to penetrate his nerves  .. dylan was thankful she never walked on eggshells around him  .  thankful that she didn’t pretend with softness and ease bred out of pity  .  just like  ,  he wouldn’t with her  .  out of everything that came from the new world  ,  whatever this was  ---   the kinship  ,  was the most surprising to him  . “i know that you knew ben  .” he finally says  , without a cloud of doubt  .  he can read people  ,  it’s what he did  .  and being in the background  ,  unnoticed  ,  for half of his life -----    you see things other people hadn’t  .  did he know the exact nature of their relationship  ?  no -  not in the slightest  .  but he knew  ,  it was something  . something traumatizing  -  you didn’t hurt like this for people you barely spoke to  .  and with that  ,  there’s a rustling in the background  ,  something behind the doors ---  like breaking plates  ,  and vibrating noise  . “what the hell is that---” 

  he doesn’t dress up often  ,  and it’s understandable  .  the mere lack of energy he had on a daily basis  ,  was exhausting in itself  .  he didn’t have it in him to look nice  ,  to comb his curls out most days  .  but today  -------     there was a ceratin level of respect you had for the dead  ,  a certain memory that haunts the idea of funerals  ,  like his mother’s  .  and he hated them  ,  they were stuffy and everyone was sad -  even those he didn’t know him  .  it was bullshit  ,  it was all bullshit  .  dylan  ,  had barely spoken to the guy  ,  but you hadn’t seen him out there weeping for the unknown  . tear stained cheeks  ,  they were saved for his own self dread  ,  a loathing part of him that just wouldn’t die  .  “it’s alright--” new shirt  ,  now drenched in red  ,  something he could have only assumed was a mixed drink of it’s own  . “i was probably never going to wear this shirt again anyways.” a lightness to it  ,  and the way his voice tilted with honesty  ----   they were just clothes  . 

   he’s tired  ,  it feels like he’s been up for days ----   and funerals  ,  wakes  ,  whatever this was ---  it was draining  .  dark hues dart around for a place to sit  ,  a spot  ,  the only spot  , brings in a sense of familiarity  . he’ll take his place next to her  ,  arms folded over his knees  .  trying his best to look pleasant  ,  to look decent  .  but god  ,  he can feel the tension  ,  and it’s not because someone was dead ------    it’s because there are so many things left unspoken  ,  things he prefers to leave that way  .  it’s only a few minutes in  ,  maybe three  ,  maybe five  ,  when he’s standing to his feet  .  “sorry-” it’s quiet  ,  muffled under his breath  trying to give her some space  .  “there was..” it’s faint  ,  glancing around  .  “there was no where else to sit  .”  it’s honest  ,  and she hasn’t spoken a word through tensed shoulders  .  he will then  ,  swallow hard  ,  and try to conceal the fact that this was awkward  .  for him  ,  for ben ---  if the afterlife was real  ,  and for anybody in a several foot radius  .  he was already uncomfortable  ,  and having to explain himself in the middle of a wake  ,  as to why he had been avoiding her  ,  was the last thing he wanted to do  .  confrontation was too heavy  ,  it made him tense  ,  flinch  ,  shoulders stiffened  . “i’ll go--”