Chapter 31 (The Letter)

Clinton

He'd woken up late that afternoon. The days all seemed to merge into one. They faded from day to night like a gradient painting that was named "What I Call Our Fucked-Up Life." Food was out of the question and sleep was all that he could bring himself to do between concert practices, even with Jesse around. Things were shitty for the entire band, but never did Clinton expect his brother and best friend to leave him.

Alone.

It was the last thing he wanted.

Clinton wouldn't even have gone into the kitchen that day if it weren't for the piece of white printer paper that managed to catch his eye on the counter. He slid onto one of the barstools to scan the neat scrawl of Mitchel's handwriting before calling out to his brother to ask what it was for. But he read it. And he said one single word: "Fuck."

The Letter

I've always given you trouble. I'm sorry.

There was the one time I got arrested in the eleventh grade. And when we first moved to LA. And there was the time I got lost in Newcastle, trying to find Kras. I never meant to kill Molly. You know that. I'm sorry I was such an ass about it after too. You deserve to hate me and the truth is that I hate me too. (At least we have that in common.) Kras and I are leaving. We'll be back I think. Don't worry about us. We'll be ok. I'll be ok. Christian will take care of me for you.

Please don't hate me more than you already do. I know it's shitty to say it in a letter but I love you man. Tell mom and dad and Taylor that I love them too. Or not.

Mitchel

The thing about Canada was that the weather was all over the place. Global warming exists and it affects the whole country, even Ontario. One day it could snow ten centimeters and the next it would be all gone. Or, at least, most of it. That day it rained. It wasn't storming or anything, but Mitchel awoke to the feeling of being engulfed in the love of his life's arms.

Kras was warm against him and he could feel his steady breath on the top of his head. Rain gently pattered against the window and left fat wet drops against the glass. They hadn't bothered to close the curtains the night before and the dull morning sun shone through and warmed his skin. He shifted in Christian's arms to place small kisses along his biceps.

He laid there for a few hours, thinking about his life with Christian. He thought about their past and present, and what he wanted for them in the future.

Scenes filled his head and he imagined waking up early to make Christian breakfast. He could almost feel the heat of the stove and Christian's hands as they slid around his waist from behind. The sound of his voice in the morning sent shivers through his body, and he could even see a flash of a wedding band on both of their fingers.

Mitchel traced lines onto Christian's skin, running his fingers over the outline of the tattoos on his arms. He explored the texture of his long blond hair where he saw a few greyish-white strands start to grow. Christian had stopped shaving since they got to Canada, and his short beard scratched his skin.

Mitchel breathed him in. Christian. The scent of fresh soap and laundry detergent. He burned with the aroma of passion and love, but above all, Christian was safe. Secure. He felt protected in his arms and he never wanted to leave them.

But Mitchel knew the rules. He wasn't allowed to be happy for too long. Otherwise, the world wouldn't spin. No one was happy all the time, that would just make everyone... okay.

Mitchel got up. He slid out of his best friend's arms and for the first time since he'd arrived in the hotel, he got out of bed before Christian.

He wore his friend's T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He didn't bother to shower or even glance into his mirror before sliding his phone into his pocket and a pair of slides on.

+++

He went to the roof. It was quiet outdoors. He hadn't seen daylight from outside the comfort of his hotel room in what seemed like forever. The air smelled fresh. A slight breeze bit at his cracking skin but he didn't mind it all that much, not even when the rain picked up and he didn't have an umbrella. He watched as the sun slowly rose higher into the sky as minutes passed and he felt his joints tense from the cold. His breath came out in a shaky fog and despite his discomfort, he loved the feeling.

His limbs were numb and his ears were as red as his cheeks and nose.

He was cold but he felt alive. The pain, the discomfort, it all reminded him that he was human.

He couldn't see Molly. She didn't follow him to the roof. No matter where he looked and searched, he couldn't find her tiny and decaying frame. He couldn't smell her rotting flesh or hear her moans of anger and pain. It was the quiet that he'd been searching for for over a month, and finally, finally, he could think.

He could feel.

So he reached into the pocket of his sweatpants and fished out his phone. He saw a few more notifications from his brother. He knew that he was being cruel, but he couldn't bring himself to reply. He found comfort in knowing that his brother would chase after him. He was loved. He needed that. Craved it, even.

Besides Clinton's ten messages, he could see that Christian had texted him too.

8:36 am- Krassy <3: Ayo whered you go

8:42 am- Krassy <3: Mitty?

He smiled at his phone, feeling his heart warm a little at the sight of his best friend's concern.

8:47 am- Mitchel: I'm outside

8:47 am- Krassy <3: Where

8:48 am- Mitchel: wouldnt u like to know

8:48 am- Krassy <3: you didnt kiss me goodmorning

8:48 am- Mitchel: i gave u a goodbye kiss already

8:48 am- Krassy <3: no come back

8:49 am- Krassy <3: lol

Mitchel slid his phone into his pocket and slowly made his way to the edge of the roof where he could have a better look at the city. It was beginning to be a beautiful day despite the rain, and he wished that Christian was out there with him to enjoy the view. He liked Toronto and knew that he'd miss it in LA.

Almost as if Christian had read his mind, the door to the roof slammed open. He turned to see who had joined him, and he had already prepared an excuse for the staff.

"I thought this was the 30th floor," he began to say, but his voice trailed off when he saw his best friend approach him with his hands stuffed into his pockets.

A small smile spread on his lips and he heard Christian call, "Hey you! What are you doing here?" Mitchel rolled his eyes and lifted his hands defensively.

"What can I say? I'm a sucker for sunrises."

Christian found his place next to Mitchel and leaned to rest his forehead on his shoulder. The younger man pulled back quickly with a gasp.

"Mitchel, you're freezing!" His fingers wrapped around his thin wrist to feel his warmth. Mitchel exhaled a small satisfied breath when his warm hands wrapped around his neck.

"I don't feel cold," he replied, and it wasn't a lie. Mitchel had been outside for so long that he no longer felt the cold or much of his body. He watched as Christian shrugged off his sweater and draped it over his shoulders. Immediately, he was met with the heat of the cloth and the strong scent that could only be described as 'Christian.'

"What are you doing, man, let's get you inside or you'll-"

"No," Mitchel interrupted. He wrapped his stiff fingers around the cloth of his sweater and held it close as he turned back to the city. "I wanna just... look," He said.

He slid onto the ledge of the building and Christian joined him with a sigh.

"You've been looking at the city for like, a week," he told him. Mitchel would have nodded if he had the strength to do so.

"And the view never gets old," He said.

"it's raining, Mitchel."

"You know I love it when it rains," he told him and leaned against his broad arm. Mitchel blew hot air into the atmosphere and watched as the fog dissipated in front of him. He felt Christian wrap his strong arm around his waist to pull him closer.

"You know I worry for you, Mitty," He said after a while.

"I know."

Mitchel swished his feet from side to side and he looked down at the city below them. Down on the streets, citizens of Toronto rushed to wherever they had to go without a care or worry for anyone but themselves. That's just how people are. No one really cares about anyone else.

Mitchel wondered what they were thinking. He wondered if they liked the rain too, or if it was just a pain to drive on slippery roads and have to deal with a wet windshield. He wondered what Christian was thinking as he gazed at him.

"We could run away," he said after a while. Mitchel shot him a slow sad smile.

"We already did." Christian returned it.

"Right."

"We already live in our own world, Kras," Mitchel told him. He tried to take his hand and wrap his fingers around his, but the nerves were completely frozen.

"Then why does it feel like everything's wrong?" There was nothing accusatory with the question. It was genuine and Mitchel often wondered it too. But the answer was simple.

Mitchel lived in his own world with Christian, but life went on outside it. It didn't matter that they had a shit ton of problems and not enough answers. It didn't matter that there were wars outside of their world and battles in their own. It didn't matter that life held no meaning when they weren't together. In the end, it was all in their heads and their world could come crashing down in a matter of moments.

"'Cause it's a hologram," Mitchel said. "I live in a hologram with you."