✰

Has been since they were randomly assigned as lab partners during pre med, but Robby only admitted it in his own mind after a drunken night in MS4 when one of their classmates dared them to kiss. Robby had gone rigid and was two syllables into his excuse not to when Jack wrapped an arm around him and planted one on him. It’s was sloppy and tainted with the leering cheers of the people around them, but it still made Robby’s heart sing.

Jack’s friendly arm stayed locked around his shoulders for ten minutes after and Robby spun in and out of a fantasy where Jack loved him back.

The next morning, the hangover pounds in Robby’s head, but there’s an extra sickness with it. It starts trapped in his chest, then hacks its way to his throat before spewing his hopelessness into the toilet in the form of bloody petals.

Over the years, Robby has had the displeasure of watching Jack’s string of girlfriends come in and out of their apartment. As much as it hurt then, Robby never worried it would actually kill him, but that becomes more likely by the day.

Hiding his illness is a challenge. Jack is a gentle, attentive soul who notices something is off with Robby almost immediately. He offers support, but backs off when Robby denies it. He’s perfect.

Being in love with Jack is easy; Robby just wishes it didn’t hurt so much.

After they graduate, Jack leaves to repay the military with his life and Robby wanders south to hide his shame. The distance alleviates the pain, Robby can go weeks with only a few odd coughs until Jack calls him. He always erupts into disgusting bloody fits after they hang up.

One day, Jack is extra giddy during their call. “I’m coming to visit,” he says. “Clear your schedule. I’ve got big news.”

Robby does as he’s told and practically trembles with anticipation. What news? Stupidly, he daydreams of Jack kissing him again, saying he’s fallen in love with Robby and wants to be together. Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell be damned.

When Jack arrives, he does so with the biggest smile Robby has ever seen. He wraps Robby in his arms and squeezes tight. Warmth transfers between them and for a brief moment the flowers suffocating Robby wilt. Then Jack speaks:

“I’m getting married!” The joy on his face rivals the sun.

A thorny vine scrapes its way through Robby and clenches around his heart. Blood and petals pool at the base of his throat, but he forces it down. “That’s great,” he chokes. “Congratulations.”

“I couldn’t believe she said yes! Oh, Mikey, you have no idea how nervous I was—“

He prattles on happily while Robby wonders when Jack got so serious with this girl, he hardly ever mentioned her name to Robby and now she’s unknowingly signed his death sentence.

His weekend with Jack passes painfully. Robby frequently has to make excuses to pull fully grown flowers out of his mouth and cry alone in the bathroom.

“Ceremony is happening when I get home from the deployment,” Jack says. He’s halfway in his car, unknowingly saying goodbye to Robby for the last time. “It’ll be a few months, but Amy will send out the invitations. You’ll be there, right?”

“Of course,” Robby lies.

Jack gives him one last hug. Robby does his best to savor it, but the metallic threat creeping up his throat makes it difficult. That night he prays this girl loves Jack enough for both of them, and that one day Jack will forgive him.

—

Eleven months later, Robby is watching nonsense TV alone in his living room when the phone rings.

“Hello?”

A man’s voice comes excitedly through the speaker. “He lives! I was starting to worry.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t be. Your RSVP got lost in the mail; do you want the steak or chicken?”

Robby frowns. “I think you have the wrong number.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten my beautiful voice already, Mikey,” the man laughs. “It’s Jack! I got home about a week ago.”

“Uh…” Robby racks his brain, but it comes up empty. “I don’t know a Jack.”

There’s a pause. “This is Michael Robinavitch’s number, right?”

“Yes,” Robby says carefully.

Another pause followed by an uncertain chuckle. “I don’t know what this game is, man, but, it’s me. Jack. Jack Abbot.”

The long scar running between Robby’s ribs begins to tingle, though he’s not sure why. He drags his knuckles over it to soothe the ache. “I’m sorry, sir, but I really don’t know you.”

“What? Mikey—“

“Sorry,” Robby says again. “I hope you find who you’re looking for.”