When Cody called early in the morning, I assumed he was heading back to the airport after reading Clary’s journal. He was already emotionally drained from our discussion after the funeral, and with Clary’s words, I wasn’t sure if handing him the journal was the brightest of ideas. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe the pain and residual guilt he carried still lingered that he wouldn’t want to return to the apartment and deal with Clary’s things; instead, he was calling to inform me he’d return another week or month later when he felt ready.

But that wasn’t the case. Cody sounded relaxed, calmer than last night. With no shaky breaths, he said, “I think I’m at the right spot. The park across the street from his favorite coffee shop? I wasn’t sure which bench he referred to, but I think this is the one.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “You read the map.”

He hummed, and I could hear the sound of children playing in the background. “Not the entire journal, but a few entries too.”

“What made you decide that place to visit?”

The sound of a dog barking sounded in the distance. “Something about sitting at a park bench for hours seemed silly, but if my brother can find solace in such a place, I thought it’d be best to check it out first.”

He paused before adding, “That, and I didn’t think starting the day with a hike would be fun, no matter how easy of a trail he said it is.”

I laughed. “It’s not that bad of a trail. It’s got lots of shade and resting points.”

He made a disbelieving hum. “Maybe another day. Plus, I needed some coffee. Want to join me?”

“I’ll be right there,” I said, beelining to the kitchen for the car keys on the counter.

—

Clary and I would often grab a coffee from the shop on the corner and walk over, discussing whatever aimless thing we had on our minds. His doctors suggested simple and short exercises; this park was closest to our apartment, known for its shady and abundant seating. The coffee was Clary’s favorite part, but I enjoyed Clary’s company the best.

“Hey,” Cody said as I sat on the same bench I used to sit with Clary—a second coffee cup between us. “Clary wrote your favorite drink down. Figured I’d get one to compensate for how early I called.”

I blinked. “Thanks.”

He brought his cup to his lips with both hands. The letters in Sharpie on the side of the cup told me everything I needed to know. Cody had ordered Clary’s usual, a hot cappuccino with two pumps of white chocolate. He blew at the lid in the same impatient way Clary was with his coffee, and while it should’ve hurt to see the similarities in the brothers, it amused me. 

“The baristas seemed to know who I was when I ordered. Maybe it was the journal in my hand but they said their condolences. Said it was on the house.” He took a cautious sip of the beverage. 

“They’re the sweetest. Clary would go there to write when I had work. He loved the smell of coffee and the ambient noise there.”

“It does seem like a great spot to work.”

I nodded, realizing his choice of words earlier. “You called him Clary.”

Cody grinned. “It rolls off the tongue quite nicely. That, and I think he enjoyed the nickname by the looks of his journal.”

“You’ve seen the map too, then?”

He nodded, pulling it from the notebook and unfolding the paper. “He decorated it like a kid’s pamphlet for a museum. The stickers were a nice touch.”

“You should’ve seen his face when I asked him if you’d be able to read it at all with all those dinosaurs.” I wasn’t sure where Clary had found such a large stash of stickers; I joked that he probably was the seller’s number one buyer. “He proceeded to add another sheet of them while glaring at me.”

Cody’s eyes never left the map, likely soaking in all the handwritten notes and pen marks Clary left behind. “Is it true? These are all of his favorite spots?”

I nodded. “I’m sure there was more; Clary enjoyed every place he’s been to in the city. But, he did mention that these all carried a specific memory he loved.”

“You helped him with this too?” He tilted the map in my direction. I glanced at it for the first time since I had helped Clary with it. Clary loved decorating any paper product with squiggly lines and colored markers. Beneath those vibrant marks were his delicate handwriting with little notes on the places we frequented: the coffee shop, the park bench, the ice-skating ring across town, and even the hike we trekked. The same one where I’d carried him back down the hill. Underneath the pterodactyl sticker placed on the hike, Clary had drawn a paper crane.

“I wouldn’t say I did much; I bought the map for him,” I said, smiling at the silly little notes. “He did most of the decorating and notes. I think he just wanted me to double check he spelled things correctly and placed the stickers in the correct location.”

Cody let out a short laugh. “He was a horrible speller.”

“That never changed.”

While the silence between us should’ve been awkward or tinged with grief, the ambient noise from the children playing and the occasional conversations between joggers was a much-needed sense of normalcy. 

He pulled out something from his jacket pocket—a paper crane. “Did he tell you about these?”

Clary had talked about it more than once, discussing the crazy folds Cody had learned over the years, making origami animals, plants, flowers, and anything else he could learn from origami books from the public library.

“He loved it,” I said. “He tried doing a bunch he found online, but he said he wasn’t nearly as talented as you were.”

Cody laughed. “I don’t know if it was talent. Judging from the sets in his room, Clarence knew his way around with Legos. Following those directions seem a hundred times more difficult than folding a piece of paper.”

I rolled my eyes. “He’d spend hours on those things.”

“When we were younger, I thought it was silly how many hours he’d willingly dig up old chicken bones in our backyard—it sounded pretty gross even though our dad would wash them,” he said. “But he treated each piece like a new discovery, and when he’d pretend to make a skeleton out of them, it was the happiest I ever seen him. Over time, it became fun to watch, and I’d even join him some days, offering my own advice for where those bones may go. He'd always say I was doing it wrong, but it was fun.”

Clary had told me about the sandbox, sometimes trying to recreate what he saw in the museums his father took him to. I bought a few dinosaur kits for him as a Christmas present one year and spent that night digging and laying them out on the dining table.

“I was lucky to have him,” he said, his fingers tracing over the journal. “Despite our teasing and brotherly fights as kids, he didn’t hesitate to defend me from schoolmates, our parents, and even our grandpa. When I came out, it was clear our grandpa didn’t like it—he didn’t understand why I was like this. When it was time for bed, Clarence snuck into my room and asked if I was okay. It was unexpected—we grew up not asking that kind of question. But there he was, asking if I wanted to talk or rant to him. He didn’t care that I was gay or that I had upset our grandfather. He wasn’t skilled in origami, but he had spent the rest of the night folding pieces of paper in his room, repeatedly trying until he managed to make one. He left it on my nightstand in the morning. Like a secret code. It became our unspoken way of saying I love you.”

My heart melted at the image of a younger Clary sneaking in and leaving a paper crane in Cody’s room. Just knowing that Clary’s heart was always so kind and caring made the anguish I felt when he passed resurface. 

He was too kind for this world to have dealt with such a premature death. 

“I was lucky to have met him,” I echoed. 

The map in Cody’s hands shook like a leaf, but his words were surprisingly calm. “I was lucky to have him as a brother. He didn’t owe me anything—didn’t have to side with me all those years or even make that paper crane. I didn’t deserve his kindness and forgiveness, but the fact he didn’t once resent me says a lot about him. About the kind of person he was and how much the world is missing without him here.”

“It’s because he loved you,” I reassured. “He always did. He loved just about everyone.”

“You included.” The assertive tone made me pause. While Clary had told me he loved me, it was never in the context that I had secretly hoped for. It had always been clear that Clary loved me as a best friend, like a brother. 

“I don’t believe that. We were very close friends.” My voice trembled.

A soft smile spreads on his face, a look of relief and something else. He rested his hand on my knee. “I think it was more than just that.”

“Maybe he didn’t know it then or wasn’t sure,” he continued. “But, I think me and him were more alike than I had thought.”

I could guess what Cody was implying; Clary hadn’t been shy about telling me his thoughts and feelings as he discovered himself. Through his brief relationship with Jayna and growing as a person, it was clear there were things he hadn’t realized when he was younger—things he hadn’t allowed himself to explore while dealing with such rough circumstances. 

While it was clear that Clary was, at the very least, curious and figuring out what label, if any, truly fit him, I never attempted to push him into something uncomfortable. I know Cody’s story influenced much of his journey, the feeling of uncertainty and fear of rejection, but all I ever wanted was for Clary to take this at his own pace. I only wanted to support him so he could be truly authentic. 

It was abundantly clear now that Clary was nothing but authentic. In the way he lived, the way he loved, and the way he made an impact on everyone in his life. 

Could anyone really blame me for falling in love with him?

“Well, I believe it,” Cody said when I didn’t respond, handing me the paper crane. “I think this was meant for you.” Knowing now what those paper cranes truly meant to Clary, all those walls I had built to protect myself crumbled with the simple gesture. Clary’s admission to his brother felt like the world lifted from my shoulders while simultaneously feeling like a dam of emotions breaking free. “He loved you, Ezra.”