Opening that door for the second time, Brian finally felt home.
The first time he had came back, he had seen it as a cruel and eternal way of destiny to make fun of him, the infinite remembering of someone who wouldn't be there anymore. He had let the memories turn into sharp knives and he had let himself be the perfect target without even putting up a defense. Now, Brian was treating those images as trustful allies, partners that would have helped him keeping Nick impressed in any moment of his life, making him smile for how much luck he had been in the first place.
Kevin was there with him, occupied cleaning the kitchen and making a list of everything he would have to buy at the supermarket. Brian let him busy with a box of cereals opened for weeks and bottles of water already empty while he took courage and went upstairs, to what had been their bedroom. Everything had been left in its place since the last time he had been there, just like as time stopped and never dared to get in: the bed was still unmade and there were still some clothes where Nick had left them on the floor. What was missing was Nick's perfume. Someone must had opened the window and had let it fly away, disappear just like its owner did.
Brian stood for some moments at the doorstep, one foot already inside the room and one still beloning to the hall. In front of him, images from a distant past begun to show themselves: him and Nick running and chasing one another between clothes and laughters; nights spent inside each other's arms while building their future together or savoring their present.
He had been lucky. He had the rare chance to get and know true love, even though it lasted like a wing's fluttering. Sometimes, that realisation tightened its claws around his heart making it harder to breathe; other times, it was a warm blanket wrapped around his frame, comforting him when Nick's absence was too much difficult to ignore.
A noise behind his back made Brian turning around, meeting Kevin's face while he was holding a white letter.
«Don't ask me why or how but I found this in the kitchen.»
Brian didn't have to take it or to notice the handwriting to know, to be sure, who had been the one writing it.
«I... I can't believe it. - Those were the first words the answering machine recorded, sentences narrated with a lump that made the voice rough and breaking. - I'd think that you were crazy or that I'm the one becoming crazy, especially if I let myself believe that you could have written these words during the past weeks. But I know it's not like that so... so I'm wondering when did you have the time to write this letter. Especially, I'm beating myself up about not noticing that serious look on your face while you were thinking about dieing and what might happen to me. What haven't you told me? Still... still I can't think that this letter is nothing but a gift. Just when I started to convinced myself that I would never be able to hear your voice again, here you are giving me words that I've never heard. I'm almost afraid to open it, I want to save it forever because I know that, once it's opened, there won't be any other chance to hear you again.
What eles have you hidden from me?»
Chapter End Notes:
Next chapter is Nick's letter. =)
