Tyler came into the room to find Charlie reading "The Little Prince" to Hunter. "What ya doing?" he asked.

 

"I've read somewhere that coma patients can hear you if you talk to them. I ran out of things to say so I started to read aloud."

 

"You ran out of things to say?"

 

"Well it's just not the same without him coming back with some smartass remark."

 

"When was the last time you were home Charlie?"

 

Charlie thought through a sleepless fog for a moment. "Getting ready for the benefit I guess."

 

"Charlie, that was two days ago. You need to get out of here for a bit. The doctors will call if anything changes."

 

"Hunter was here for me when I needed him. There's no way I'm leaving him."

 

"Even he left to go to work and to sleep. I'm sure as much as he'd appreciate you being here, he wouldn't want you to ignore your health. You should get some real food, get some sleep."

 

"No."

 

Tyler sighed. "How about you go home for a couple hours, grab some of his comic books so that he can at least enjoy what you're reading to him. I'll stand guard, make sure he's okay."

 

Charlie knew that Tyler wasn't going to relent and he was too tired to argue. "What should I get?"

 

"He's got the Dark Phoenix Saga and the first volume of X-Factor first run in trade. I know those are some of his favorites."

 

"Alright," Charlie said as he stood up. "But I'll only be gone for an hour tops. You call me if anything changes."

 

"There's a leftover rotisserie chicken in the fridge," Tyler called after him as Charlie walked out the door. "And take a shower! You're getting kinda gamey."

*

 

Charlie found the books that Tyler suggested and stood in Hunter's room for a moment. The bed was unmade and the clothes he'd been wearing before he changed into his suit for the benefit still lay on the floor, scattered among single issues of comic books. He could still smell Hunter in the room. He could still remember the night he'd spent here with him. He wished they could be here again.

 

Charlie went to his own room to get a fresh towel. When Hunter woke up, he didn't want to be as gamey as Tyler suggested he was. As he pulled the towel off the shelf, a small box tumbled over and cascaded photos call over him. He sat there, for a minute, for an eternity, trying to pick them up but looking at them. His life in Boystown, the Pride Parades, the Market Days, the random club photo booth pictures. It was life he knew and was foreign to him. It was definitely not the life he lived this past year. Who was he before and who was he now? He promised himself he'd move out of Boystown by the time he was thirty. Was it time to really move on?

 

His phone vibrating in his pocket startled him. It was Tyler. He frantically answered it.

 

"Charlie," Tyler said, through tears. "Hunter's gone."

 

"What? Where did they take him?"

 

"No...you don't understand. Hunter died."

###