متیو

MATEO

7:34 p.m.

I’m out of character and Rufus is loving it. I’m loving it too.

I stop bouncing and stay seated at the edge of the bed, trying to catch my breath. Rufus sits beside me and grabs my hand. “I’m going to sing something for you,” I say. I don’t want to let go of his hand but I promise myself I’ll put both of mine to good use.

I sit in front of my keyboard. “Get ready. This is a once-in-a-lifetime performance.” I look over my shoulder. “Feeling special yet?” Rufus fakes being unimpressed. “I’m feeling okay. A little tired, actually.” “Well, wake up and feel special. My dad used to sing this for my mother, though his voice is much better than mine.” I play the keys for Elton John’s “Your Song” with a pounding heart, though my face isn’t as hot as it was back at Clint’s Graveyard. I’m not kidding when I tell Rufus to feel special. I’m off-key and I don’t care because of him.

I sing about a man making potions in a traveling show, how my gift is my song, sitting on the roof, keeping the sun turned on, the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen, and so much more. I turn during a quick break and catch Rufus filming me on his phone. I smile his way. He comes over and kisses me on my forehead while I sing with him by my side: “I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind, that I put down in words . . . how wonderful life is now you’re in the world. . . .” I finish and Rufus’s smile is a victory. He’s tearing up. “You were hiding from me, Mateo. I always wanted to stumble into someone like you and it sucks that I had to find you through a stupid app.” “I like the Last Friend app,” I say. I get his sentiment, but I wouldn’t change how I met Rufus. “There I was, looking for some company, and I found you and you found me, and we chose to meet up because of gut instinct. What would’ve been the alternative? I can’t guarantee I would’ve ever left here, or that our paths would’ve crossed. Not with one day left. It would make for a great story, yeah, but I think the app puts you out there more than anything else. For me, it meant admitting I was lonely and wanted to connect with someone. I just wasn’t counting on what I have with you.” “You’re right, Mateo Torrez.”

“It happens every now and again, Rufus Emeterio.” It’s the first time I’ve said his last name out loud and I hope I’ve pronounced it right.

I go to the kitchen and return with some snacks. It’s childish, but we play house. I smear peanut butter on crackers for him—after confirming he’s not allergic—and serve them with a glass of iced tea. “How was your day, Rufus?” “The best,” he says.

“Me too,” I say.

Rufus pats the edge of the bed. “Get over here.” I sit down beside him and we get comfortable, linking our arms and legs together. We talk more about our histories, like how whenever he was acting out his parents would force him to sit in the middle of the room with them, kind of like how my dad would tell me to go take a shower and calm down. He tells me about Olivia and I tell him about Lidia.

Until it stops being about the past.

“This is our safe space, our little island.” Rufus traces an invisible circle around us. “We aren’t moving from here. We can’t die if we don’t move. You got me?” “Maybe we’ll smother each other to death,” I say.

“Better that than whatever the hell is off our island.”

I take a deep breath. “But if for some reason this plan doesn’t work, we need to promise to find each other in the afterlife. There has to be an afterlife, Roof, because it’s the only thing that makes dying this young fair.” Rufus nods. “I will make it so easy for you to find me. Neon signs. Marching bands.” “Good, because I might not have my glasses,” I say. “Not sure if they’ll ascend with me.” “You’re positive about a movie theater in the afterlife but not if you’ll have your glasses? Seems like an oversight in your heavenly blueprint.” Rufus removes my glasses and puts them on. “Wow. Your eyes suck.” “You taking my glasses isn’t helping my case here.” My vision is hazy and I can only make out his skin tone, but none of his features. “I bet you look stupid.” “Let me take a photo. Actually, lean in with me.”

I can’t see anything, but I look straight, squinting, and smile. He puts the glasses back on my face and I check out the photo. I look like I’ve just woken up. Rufus wearing my glasses is a welcome intimacy, like we’ve known each other for so long that this kind of silliness comes easily to us. I wasn’t ever counting on this.

“I would’ve loved you if we had more time.” I spit it out because it’s what I’m feeling in this moment and was feeling the many moments, minutes, and hours before. “Maybe I already do. I hope you don’t hate me for saying that, but I know I’m happy.

“People have their time stamps on how long you should know someone before earning the right to say it, but I wouldn’t lie to you no matter how little time we have. People waste time and wait for the right moment and we don’t have that luxury. If we had our entire lives ahead of us I bet you’d get tired of me telling you how much I love you because I’m positive that’s the path we were heading on. But because we’re about to die, I want to say it as many times as I want—I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.”