A short story. Have fun. Don't hate me. And a side note, I copied this directly from my flashdrive, so I haven't even checked to see if it's okay except for the the italicized lines at the end.

“Do we have to discuss this every Friday night?”
“Not if you would just agree…”
“If I go you’ll go off with your friends and I’ll end up just sitting at the table again.”
“That’s not even it, Erik! You just need to include yourself more.” Wes glared over the mess of dinner dishes he was sorting into their respective drawers and cabinets.
“I don’t know how.” Erik shrugged with the statement. Somehow it was less effective with soapy dish suds all over his arms.
Wes swore as a pan fell on his head from the counter Erik was piling them on. He picked it up as he stood to put it away. “You need to put yourself out there. Give it your best and it’ll work out.” Wes noted with relief that Erik was done and was rinsing his arms off. No more dishes. He rubbed his head.
“I’ve tried that.” Erik pointed out as he dried his arms.
“You didn’t try with me. You distanced yourself as far from me as possible.”
He leaned against the counter, facing Wes. “You’re different. You kind of insisted on my company. If you didn’t notice, that time you spoke of lasted the entire first year I knew you!” He folded his arms as he watched Wes put the last plate into the cabinet. “I was talking about before you, anyway. Most people aren’t like that, and I just can’t connect with anyone anymore.”
“So three years managed to completely neutralize the rest?” Immediately Wes wished he hadn’t spoken. He wished desperately to take back those words. But reality didn’t work like that. “I didn’t mean it like that, Erik.”
Wes now wished that Erik would glare at him. Show some signs of anger…or something. But that blank look was there in front of him again, fixed on him. And then he was gone. Wes winced as the bedroom door shut tightly behind the younger man. That door, once shut, was as impenetrable as a safe. He had once made the mistake of intruding past the closed door, and Erik hadn’t spoken to him for two weeks.
So once the door was shut, it stayed that way until Erik decided to open it.
Wes finished putting the cooking utensils away and went into the living room to sit on the couch. He fumbled around in the seat cushions until he found the remote, then turned on the TV to whatever football game was on and sunk into the back of the sofa. Erik wouldn’t be out of that room for a few hours.
When ten o’clock rolled around, Wes decided that enough was enough. The game was ending; Alice and Rob had broken up, gotten back together, cheated on each other, and broken up again; and he was actually eyeing the books he was supposed to be reading for his online courses. He shook his head. Five hours was definitely too long. Even for Erik.
Bracing himself, Wes entered the room. Instead of the expected explosion, there was silence. Surprised, Wes looked around for Erik. When he couldn’t see him without moving, he stepped cautiously inside the room. Cursing to himself, he moved on to the adjoining bathroom.
Wes sighed. Erik was in the bone-dry bathtub, fully dressed, sleeping. So for the second time that month, Wes found himself prying the too-light man out of the bath and placing him carefully on the bed. He wondered whether he should get Erik into pajamas before remembering that that reminder was the last thing he needed in this state. And the last thing Wes needed was a hysterical Erik screaming for a long-gone enemy to stop, just stop.
So he left the jeans and the sweater and took the shoes and socks and glasses off instead. He threw them in the hamper and turned to get into bed before realizing that he had placed Erik much closer to the middle than he usually slept. He shook his head at the oversight and laid on the very edge of the bed.
It took him nearly an hour to get to sleep, but then he was watching Erik’s calm breathing, amazed by how much calmer he looked when he was sleeping. Not that anyone could tell if he looked troubled while he was awake. But when he was sleeping, it was so easy to see the difference.
Wes hadn’t had any idea what was wrong with Erik when he first met him three years ago. He did know that teenager running towards him was in major trouble. The limp, the obviously broken arm, and the paleness of the kid’s face were enough to tell him all he needed to know. The two men chasing him merely added to the urgency. Wes made a quick decision and pulled him aside, into a house that belonged to a friend. And after the dirty, exhausted teen was convinced that Wes meant no harm, he promptly passed out in Wes’s arms.
Two weeks later, Wes had graduated from college and was moving into his apartment. Erik had no family. He had no connections. The polite woman at the police station said that Erik had no record of ever having existed. And Erik would never say more than a few sentences at a time about what had happened.
When he woke up Erik was gone.
He looked in the bathroom before exiting the room. Erik was in the living room with a bowl of cereal, staring at the TV. Wes saw that it was off and bit his lip. Then he put on his best ‘good morning!’ smile and sat next to him.
“Hey, kid!”
The usual “hey, idiot,” didn’t come. There was just silence.
“You okay, Erik?”
Dead eyes turned to stare at him. Wes shivered and tried to keep his smile on. “Your cereal’s gone mushy! Want me to get you some more?” The cereal – what Wes guessed used to be the frosted mini wheat things Erik loved – was goo. It would have had to have been sitting in the milk for a good fifteen minutes, maybe more. Easily more.
“I’m sorry about last night.”
“It’s no problem. I know I’ve fallen asleep somewhere other than the bed plenty of times.”
“You know why I’m sorry. You just don’t want to talk about it.”
“Do you want to talk about it? It’s just that you usually don’t. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
Erik gazed at him for a few long seconds. Wes wondered if Erik had heard his words.
“Yes.”
“You want to talk about it?”
“I want it to be over. It’s been three years since those three years.”
“Erik, people don’t just magically get better. It’s okay to take a long time.”
“Not this long. By the time I’m better I’ll be old. You’re irritated with me – “
“Am not!”
Erik stared at him.
“Okay, I’m a little impatient, but come on, Erik! You’ve made so much progress! You can even sleep in the same bed with me, even if I can’t get any closer than a foot for too long.”
“Still, though. I jump at the slightest sound. I can’t stand to not know where people are around me. And sharing a bed still scares the s**t out of me. I get really scared really often. I can’t get close to other people, including your friends.”
Wes nodded as if Erik had just proved his point for him. “Yeah, three years will do that to a person. Once is bad enough, and you…three years, Erik. To those bastards. You should be screwed up.”
“It doesn’t change the fact that I’m not getting better. It doesn’t matter whether I’m taking the usual amount of time –“
Wes’s brown eyes squinted. “I don’t know if there’s a precedent of this-“
Erik shook his head. “We just don’t hear about it. But even so, it just doesn’t matter how long in comparison to others; it’s about how long in comparison to the rest of my life. Do I really want to spend the majority of the rest of my life trying to recover?”
Wes frowned. “It won’t take that long. And pretty soon it’ll take over less and less of your life.” His frown deepened. He took the cereal bowl from Erik, whose hands were starting to shake worse than before. “You can do this, Erik.”
“I don’t want to.”
Wes put the bowl on the side table beside them and said, “You don’t have much of a choice.”
“I do.” Erik argued as he shut his eyes.
Wes tried to grin. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
Wes’s grin failed. Was Erik…
He grabbed the younger man’s wrist and yanked the sleeve up. Pale, raised lines decorated the surface, and Wes went for the other arm. He raised his eyes to Erik’s closed ones. “Nothing recent.”
“No. It’s not like that. The last thing I want to do is cause myself more pain.”
“I know how that part of it goes, Erik. Something’s up.”
Erik gazed sadly at him, and suddenly Wes understood. He didn’t want to, but his brain had already registered what Erik had just told him with those silent eyes. He couldn’t un-comprehend it. Reality didn’t work like that.
So he just stared at Erik, trying to communicate his own pain as well as Erik communicated his.
The phone rang. It stopped.
‘Hey, this is Erik and Wes – Wes and Erik if you don’t mind – Wes! Sorry we can’t get to the phone right now –Maybe Erik finally agreed to come to the arcade! – Stop it, Wes! But leave your name and number and we’ll get back to you – whenever we feel like it – when we can. Thank you.’
There was no message, and as the tape beeped its annoyance, Erik buried his face in Wes’s shoulder. Wes squeezed his eyes tight and wished that there was a dry sweater for him to soak. He wished there was a chance of him changing Erik’s mind, or of convincing himself that Erik was entirely wrong in his decision. But reality didn’t work like that.
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Erik didn’t eat much of his dinner that night. Wes gazed at him. When five minutes had passed and Erik still hadn’t taken more than ten bites, Wes set his fork down.
Erik looked up at him. “I didn’t want to ruin your dinner.”
Wes stood slowly, as if his knees and his back and somewhere in his upper chest hurt, and made his way to the bathroom.
Why was he doing this? It was the same question he had asked himself a thousand times in the last two days. And the answer hadn’t changed.
Erik needed him. And Wes would much rather be there at the end, than leave him alone. He put the toilet seat down and closed the lid quietly. Erik came in and knelt in front of the drawers as Wes sat down.
Wes looked at everything but Erik as the brunette dug a new razor from the package. Wildly, his mind flew to the oddness of them having single – bladed heads. He realized next that razors were sharp enough that the triple – bladed ones would work just as well. Then that it didn’t matter at all.
Was he really sitting here while Erik did this?
“Damn packaging. It’s a pain, really.” Erik grumbled as he tore at the box edge with his fingernails.
Wes nodded, forgetting that Erik couldn’t see him. Erik gave up and got a pair of scissors from the drawer and tried opening the box with them. He stopped, closed his eyes and sighed, and put the still unopened box away. “You know, sometimes I wonder how I got through elementary school.” He got in the tub with the scissors. “Clean-up will be easier this way.”
Wes nodded again while his mind screamed obscenities at him, screaming at him to stop Erik.
“Please stay.”
“I can’t. You know that.”
He did. And Erik needed him. “See you in hell?” He tried his best to smile for him. For his sweet, wonderful Erik, who just shook his head and pulled up his sleeve. He couldn’t.
Erik frowned at the difficulty he was having in making his sleeve stay up. Then he just pulled the loose sweater off, tossing it into the next room.
“That’s better.”
Wes swallowed and tried to smile again. Erik needed him. “Bye, kid.”
“Idiot.” Erik replied, and they both smiled at the old joke before Erik looked down.
The tub and the toilet were very close, and even closer when one sat on the edge of the toilet seat. This proximity gave Wes the perfect view of the pale skin on Erik’s right wrist opening. For a while, Wes was certain that time stood still because there was a wide gash that made him think of a pointy ellipse. Then it was full of blood and spilling down onto the floor of the tub. Erik smiled a little and went for his other wrist.
Wes bit his lip and leapt forward. “Erik!”
“It’s okay, Wes.” Erik smiled for him.
Wes glared at him. “This hurts.”
“I know.”
“I hate you.”
“I love you.”
Wes kept his glare. “Me too.”
“I know. Don’t leave.”
“I won’t.” The other wrist went, and Erik dropped the scissors. The illusion wasn’t there this time, and the crimson poured down to the drain without its former hesitation. Wes let himself fall gently into the other end of the tub and pulled Erik into him. Erik let his back rest against Wes and closed his eyes.
“Don’t leave me.” Wes pleaded.
“I have to.” Erik whispered.
“Don’t do this to me, Erik.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know,” Wes said as he closed his eyes and let tears fall on the head resting on his chest, “but I still love you. I still don’t want to let you go.”
Then Erik started to shake. Wes frowned. Last time he checked, blood loss didn’t make people shake as violently as Erik was. “Erik?”
“I-“ He was crying. Erik was sobbing. “I’m sorry.” Wes clutched him tightly to himself.
“I know.”
“I don’t want this.” Wes froze.
“To die? Want – you don’t – to – you don’t want - to die?” Wes finally managed to choke out. Erik shook his head weakly. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not too late!” Wes argued as hope flared in his chest.
“Yes, it is.” Erik said, defeated
“No it’s not. You aren’t going to die!”
“Reality doesn’t work like that.”
Wes ignored him. “You’re going to live and get better and you’ll be just fine, I swear you will.”
He knew he was babbling. He also really, really didn’t care. He grabbed the huge fluffy black towel from beside the shower, not caring that he ripped off the hook it was hanging on in the process. He clamped down on Erik’s wrists with its ends as he kept spouting gibberish. Then he realized that an ambulance would be nice. Erik had lost a lot of blood. Who knew how much before he passed out? Speaking of such…
“Erik, you with me?” Wes asked loudly.
“Yah…” Erik’s mumbled answer was beautiful, he thought as he dug out his cell phone.
“What’s the best way to figure out what you want for dinner?”
“Ask you.”
“Why’s that?”
“I’m sleepy.”
“Yeah, well I don’t care. Sing the ABC’s.” His voice took a more urgent tone. “Yes. I need an ambulance now.”
“A B C song is stupid.”
“Yeah I know. That’s why you’re singing it.”
“Hey…”
“B, C, D…” His tone turned angry. “Erik, my – my friend – is dying! That’s the emergency you idiot! He needs…type…type…s**t! What type - he’s type AB +!”
“No, na’ A, hey.”
“Sing, rainbow boy!” Wes commanded, then spoke back into the phone. “Yes, I know. Please just tell them to hurry.”
“E…F…Chee…”
“What!? The hospital is three blocks away! How the hell does that constitute ten freaking minutes!?” Wes was finding it increasingly difficult to both grip the phone between shoulder and ear and keep a hold of Erik’s wrists. The salty water that had been falling from his eyes for a while now wasn’t helping. He frowned. “ERIK! SING!”
“’kay. Chay…gay…L…”
“I have to go.” He tried not to sob, but failed. “I can’t stay on the line!”
“Ku…aw…ess…”
“Erik! Keep singing! No, ma’am. I’m sorry.” He let the phone fall. The lady would hang up herself.
“Bee…ubyew…eck…”
“Erik!”
He shook the wrists that he held just as tightly as at first.
“Erik!” He shook him again. “Damn it! Sing!”
Was he dead? No, he was just unconscious. People didn’t just go from singing to dead!
He was alive.
Was there a pulse? He didn’t dare let go to feel for it.
He was alive.
Was he breathing? He couldn’t regulate his own enough to check.
“ERIK! Wake up! You didn’t finish the song!”
Wes held Erik’s wrists up as high as they went and prayed to every deity whose name he had ever heard.
Please…
“You can’t die! You aren’t dead!”
Could reality work like that?
“You aren’t dead!”
Please, whoever is there…
“I’ll kick your a**, Erik. I swear I will.”
He was alive.
He had to be.