Norman drops to his knees, plummeting to the mud between Jack's legs. The distraught doctor's hand comes up to his own forehead as tears steadily stream down his face. Jack's leg scoots across the marsh-like soil, bringing forth grunts of displeasure, until it rests against his husband's thigh.
His chest feels heavy, fighting to heave up before slogging back down. The lids of his eyes droop, his neck writhes in pain, and sensations of burning and throbbing careen throughout his extremities. His hand remains pressed firmly against the gaping wound, not doing much to abate the river of blood pouring from it.
Norman's body bounces, the action beyond his control. His mind races to the darkest recess, finding only horrors he already knew were there, but could've never imagined the true nature of their realization. A surge of rage bounds to the surface, he cries out loudly, and recklessly, with no fore thought, or care, to the possible results of this action.
Jack tries to lean forward, but his body betrays him, and only a slight hunch is achieved. He reaches out with his other hand, meekly grasping the air, searching for the cloth of his companion's jacket. Norman falls forward, lightly laying his head on Jack's sternum. Jack's hand finds his husband and strokes his hair.
Karo squats next to them, peering shamefully at the red death that has soaked Jack's attire.
"I, fuck, I'm sorry Jack." the guilt ridden man says.
Jack's face slowly tilts, bringing the fighter into his field of view. His dry lips part, but the words take a moment to leave them.
"It's not...your fault."
"It is. I should've-"
Jack's hand leaves Normans hair and slashes the air.
"No...no."
Norman bellows, the intensity of his emotions reaching a climax. Jack slides his weak and frail palm across his grieving lover's cheek.
"Hey...hey…"
The blood purged man's breathes are short. His words are feeble and hollow. Norman's head weaves left to right, an abrupt sense of denial striking him.
"No, no, please, no."
"I'm...sorry."
Norman's gaze raises from the dirt to meet that of his downed lovers.
"No, no."
"I never...meant...to leave-"
"Don't! You're going to be fine, we can-"
A sorrowful regret glimmers in the bitten man.
"No...we can't."
"There has to be-"
"There...isn't."
Norman's face contorts, his lip nearly touching his glistening nose, the watery gates open upon him again.
"I...love you."
"No, I'm-I'm not ready, I'm not ready."
"Me...either. I don't...don't want to...leave you."
"Then don't!" Norman blurts out, feeling scorned.
A slight, but noticeable, smile cracks on the weakened man's face.
"That...simple?"
"That simple. Just-just stay."
"I'll stay...as...as long...as I can."
"I love you."
Norman quakes, his body shivers, he wraps his arms around his doomed husband. Jack's attention turns to Karo, his hand falls on the shoulder of the knelt man.
"When I go...do it...quickly."
Norman shrieks, a piercing cry of gloom cracks the sky. His tears and snot mix with the mud on his shirt, smearing across his face. His legs sprawl out, his hold on his husband tightens. Jack kisses the top of Norman's head, causing more convulsions to charge forth.
Daisy and Patrick, back to their feet, approach the morbid scene at the trailer. Daisy's gaze meets with Jack's, and she sees no fear behind his eyes, only regret and grief. Jack rubs Norman's head, Daisy nods, understanding the gesture, words between them not being needed.
Patrick moves to Jack's side. Karo departs making way for him. The teen slides on the trailer until his bottom reaches the mud, then he lays his head on Jack's shoulder. Jack's brow furrows, his tears roll again.
The group will sit here with this dying man, this caretaker, this lover, this husband, this friend, until his last breath. Until all the life he has left in him drifts away. They mourn the loss they are enduring, the tragedy that has befallen them.
This man that has cared without concern, that has loved without hesitation, that has lead without resent. A vanguard of one for morality and valor, a virtuous and ardent soul. A great loss for the world, old and new. A man who never allowed the troubles of life to weigh him down, who never gave in to the hatred before the fall, or the morbidity after it.
In life Jack was kind, caring, generous, and nurturing, and in death, in his final moments, those qualities held strong.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“You know chacho, I don’t really care what you wanna do, you’re helping.”
The younger Puerto Rican sighs loudly, making sure his sister knows he’s annoyed.
“This is so laaaaame!” he moans, heavily emphasizing the last word.
Sweetie whips around, her eyes wide, her brow raised. Her attention moves from the fruit she’s cutting to her exasperated younger brother.
“¡Ay, coño! Don’t be a jerk, celebrate happiness!”
His eyes roll in the most exaggerated of manners, he sighs loudly once more, but his sister’s stern look of displeasure does not cease. She slams her fist on the counter.
“¡Pendejo!”
Outlaw jumps, her fierce show of emotion catching him off guard. He holds his hands up in defeat.
“Okay, okay! I’ll help, sheesh.”
“Don’t sheesh me cabrón!”
Zee’s pops around the corner, standing in the entrance way of the kitchen.
“You know Outlaw, not to pry, but one month is a long time these days, especially with how scarce good people are.”
“Okay yeah, just take her side!”
“I’m not taking sides, but I’m happy for Sweetie and Ros. You should be too.”
“You’re not taking sides huh?”
“What can I say?” -she winks, her grin widening- “Love wins, every time.”
“Whatever!” -he throws his hands up again- “What do you want me to do?”
Her looks to his sister, whose gaze never left him, continuing to burn a hole through his head, even as he was turned away talking to Zee. She grits her teeth, takes a deep breath, and points to a large clump of cloth on the table.
“I made this sign, hang it in the living room, above the couch. PLEASE!”
“Okay!” Outlaw replies
