The night before, Jacob dreamed of being dead.

His body was floating in a ditch, just outside of town, hidden  between the weeds. He watched it from above, under the pouring rain, and it felt like he forgot how to breathe..

It was truly a horrifying sight. 

The corpse had a pale and grayish look, ruined by the water; his hair was wet, covered in mud and dry leaves. Tiny worms were crawling out of his mouth, frozen in an expression of agony; from the shoulders down, his body vanished into the murky water. It was too dark to see the bottom of the  stream.

Next to his corpse, another one was floating, face down. Blond hair shimmered under the moonlight, gently caressed by the current.

It seemed they had been abandoned there for days, naked, cold,  preyed on by parasites.

A sudden flash made him  jolt in fear; his shoes sank into the mud.

On the other side of the ditch, in the tall grass, a hooded young man was hiding his face behind a camera. The flash of another shot reflected on the water, and on the pale skin of the corpses, making every detail sharper for a second.

Jacob froze in terror, rain tracing paths down his face, his ankles soaked in water and mud. He no longer knew if his body was shaking from the cold or the shock. He knew that man, and worse still, he wasn’t really surprised to see him there. Revie took a shot, then another, before looking up and curling his lips in a cruel smile. 

“What a waste...”he mumbled, with the same indifference he would reserve for the trash on the side of the road, not a trace of remorse twisting his face.

“Oh, God…” Jacob leaned forward, fighting the urge to throw up on the grass. He let out a heart-wrenching scream that echoed with the thunder. “What have you done?!”

Tears blended with the raindrops on his cheeks. He felt sick.

Revie’s smile slipped away, his face tensing into a grim expression. The wind ruffled the long, curly hair peeking out from under his hood. The storm and the darkness suited him.

“We had a deal,” he whispered coldly. “Remember?”

Jacob shook his head; it was all too much. It couldn’t be true. Revie would never—No, it wasn’t possible.

“You shouldn’t have left me, Jacob,” he continued, “ever. And yet, here we are.” He stretched out an arm, pointing to the ditch. “Look where your choice has led us.

With horror, Jacob noticed the bloody cuts scoring his forearm, red drops dripping on the grass. He looked one last time at his own corpse, his vision blurred with tears.

A loud thunder cracked, drowning out the desperate cry that never left his throat. Then, with a violent jolt and the terrifying sensation of falling into the void, Jacob woke up wrapped in the blankets.

It took him a few seconds to process everything, frozen in place, as he tried to calm down his breathing. He pressed a hand to his chest, as if his heart might burst.

He was alive. It was only a dream. And Revie...

An arm wrapped around his chest, pulling him into a warm gentle hug, which failed to comfort him.

“Everything okay?” Revie asked with a sleepy voice, resting his head against Jacob’s shoulder. Jacob was afraid Revie might hear how fast his heart was beating, as if it could tell the story of what had happened for him.

“Yeah. Sorry. I was just... I had a nightmare,” Jacob explained in a trembling whisper. A nightmare in which you killed me and threw me in a ditch.

It was just a dream, just a dream. Revie would never be capable of hurting him, he thought. He wasn’t sure who he was trying to reassure exactly. He squeezed his eyes shut, hugging the pillow, and Revie pulled him closer. He kissed him on his back before falling back asleep.

He drifted off to sleep too, several minutes later, trying to stop ruminating about the meaning of that nightmare. But the next day, Jacob couldn’t think of anything else. Especially in the evening, in the car with his boyfriend, as they were heading to his family’s house.

Revie hadn’t spoken to him in nearly an hour, and in that silence, it was hard not to think. He felt crushed against the seat by the weight of anxiety.

Should I apologize again?, he thought. The rain pitter-pattering on the windows kept bringing back that dream. 

Wet shoes, mud,

the nauseating stench,

the worms,

the faded, lifeless eyes. 

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. 

He rolled down the window a few inches, because his lungs were begging for air, even though the driver’s side window was already half down. The cold air brushed against his boyfriend’s raven hair without ruffling a strand. Revie held his left wrist outward, a cigarette between his fingers. A grayish sigh slithered out of his lips.

Revie was charming all the time, that evening especially so. Every detail of his appearance had been meticulously planned out and compulsively checked in front of the mirror. This made Jacob feel even more guilty, in his constant feeling of inadequateness, never up to  other people’s expectations. And,  worst thing, he was regretting so much that he had accepted that invitation.

He had considered postponing that dinner until the very last second, finding an excuse that could justify him, convincing his boyfriend to spend that evening alone. But it was too late now; they were about to reach his house in a few minutes. He couldn’t just cancel a plan like that. If he did, Revie would make a bad impression, and he hated that more than anything else. Everything was fine, everything would be fine: he kept repeating those words to himself.

Jacob wasn’t nervous about introducing Revie to his family; they already met a few times. As soon as they were introduced, they loved him and welcomed him into the family. His younger sister, Kathleen, already saw him as a second brother, while his father kept asking how his boyfriend was doing, how things were going between them, and to say hello to him. Sometimes, though, he forgot to ask Jacob how he was doing as well.

In short, Revie never missed a beat when it came to winning people’s appreciation and making sure those in his company had a good time. Yet Jacob felt so anxious about bringing him to his home that evening, even more anxious than when he’d introduced him to his father for the first time. That day was draining him.

The ding of his phone pulled him out of that whirlwind of thoughts.

He immediately noticed Revie’s fingers stiffening around the steering wheel, his jaw clenching. He saw him take a long, slow breath through his nostrils, while Jacob held it for a few seconds. He picked up the phone with trembling hands.

“It’s Kathleen,” he smiled, “she just wanted to… know if we’re on our way.  I’ll tell her we’ll be there in five minutes, ‘kay?”

Jacob felt the urge to justify every call, text, and notification on his phone. He had learned to read the signs on Revie’s face. And that evening was already fucked up; he really had to be careful not giving  him any more reasons to get angry.  

He didn’t get a reply, so he sent the message and quickly stuffed his phone into the large pocket of his hoodie.

Revie had been ignoring him for what felt like an eternity, and it terrified him. The truth was they had a fight that late afternoon at Revie’s place. But it was nothing serious, so he really couldn't understand the silent treatment. Maybe he hadn’t behaved well - yes, it was true, he’d gone too far - but he was sorry and had apologized, and Revie had too, so... Damn it, talk to me, please! He wanted to tell him how much he loved him, that he hoped everything was okay after what happened, but he was afraid of saying the wrong thing. Revie seemed so out of reach. And he didn’t want to tick him off.

More than anything, Jacob didn’t want to lose him. Because Revie was perfect, and he loved him. They hadn’t been together long - he didn’t deny that - but their bond was special. Jacob could already claim, without a doubt, that he was the one. He never wanted to push him away over a stupid argument, because that’s what it was: a stupid argument. Nothing more. He would forgive him. Revie made him feel special, appreciated. That’s how two people in love with each other should feel, right?

But Jacob had one doubt: that he wasn’t the right person for Revie. With each passing day, Jacob saw Revie so perfect it seemed like he was too much for him.

Revie brought the cigarette to his lips, inhaled, and as he breathed out the smoke, he asked:

“What are you going to tell your father, Jacob?”

He didn’t take his eyes off the road for a second, maintaining that hostile, evasive attitude he had maintained for the past hour.

He turned toward Revie, suddenly, incredulous that he’d heard him speak after such agonizing silence. He had spoken to him. It took him a good second to process the words, confused by that question.

“Um… what should I tell him?” he hesitated, offering a nervous smile. He shifted more comfortably in his seat, realizing how tense his muscles had been that whole time. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

Revie turned to stare at him for a few seconds, while they waited for the green light. The red glow enveloped them, reflecting off every droplet sliding down the glass. Revie looked at him as if he were wondering  whether Jacob's question was genuine or not, or as if he were about to insult him. Sometimes reading his expression was hard.

Please don’t be mad, he thought, regretting every word he’d said without thinking about how they might sound outside his head. Because it really didn’t take much to trigger Revie’s explosions sometimes. He gulped lightly, forcing a smile. His stomach was churning from anxiety.

Revie turned back to focus on the road, shaking his head, and reached his hand out the window to tap the cigarette’s ash away. He took one last drag, then tossed it onto the street. Pressing a button, he rolled up the window - both windows - as if he wanted to prevent anyone from hearing them. The silence grew terribly heavy.

Finally, he replied bluntly, “I’m talking about the bruise.”