The First to Die at the End

by Adam Silvera

Sometimes Mateo thinks about why anyone would want to be friends with him. Why anyone would choose him.

There’s a boy on a bike that seems too big for him, but maybe he’ll grow into it. As the boy rides past Mateo, he takes a step back because Mateo knows good and well that he is not invincible.

squeezes his heart. While his father has given him a great life, Mateo must learn how to make his own. There’s no telling how much time either of them has—either Mateo will be right that he’s cursed to die young or his father will pass before him, just like it should be. He’ll never forget the first time he told Teo about the curse and how sad his father got at the idea of having to bury him.

Mateo watches everyone in the park with awe. All they’re doing is being themselves, and it’s still the most magical thing in the world. Why can’t Mateo cast those same spells?

“Belief is less about what you say and more about what you feel. Since the day you were born, I felt such powerful love and protection for you. I hope to protect you now by promising that there is no one else like you. I’m lucky to not only know you but to call you my son. You don’t have to be anyone but Mateo Torrez Jr.”

🖤🖤🖤

But then again, how dangerous could other kids be? It’s not like when he got scared of those two older boys in Times Square. Mateo thought they were up to no good at first, like a prank or something worse, but it turns out they were up to good. They just wanted a picture taken together, and when Mateo saw them kissing, he felt something unlock within. It reminded him of the conversation he had with his father last month. “How do you find love, Dad?” Mateo had asked. “Where is it?” “Love is a superpower,” his father had said. “It’s one we all have, but it’s not a superpower you’ll always be able to control. It’ll get harder when you get older too. Don’t be scared if you find yourself loving someone you’re not expecting to. If it’s right, it’s right.” Mateo wonders if those two older boys were scared to love each other. It didn’t seem so.

🥺

“I’m going to try, Dad. But if I don’t make a friend, can we go home?” “Absolutely. I’ll make you a cup of tea, and we can watch a movie.” He would really like that.

a cup of tea...

Then Mateo sees the boy with the bike again. He’s inspecting the chain, and maybe he cares a lot about safety, just like Mateo. Mateo walks toward the boy right as he gets back on his bike, pedaling away. “Pops, look!” the boy shouts as he leans over his handlebars and glides under a tree’s low-hanging branches. “Great job, Rufus!” the father responds. Rufus . . . Mateo really likes that name. It’s not one he hears enough, but it’s nice.

... mateo really likes that name...

Home is the place where Mateo can be himself, where he can live, live, live.

the place where he can live.

The thing is . . . today might be my End Day too. But I let it go because the certainty of his fate trumps my possibility.

As the train exits Manhattan and enters the Bronx, I make sure there’s space between us on our bench in the corner. Not so much space that we can be targeted individually, but not so close that we draw attention for being together. I hate talking shit about my home borough, because I love the Bronx, but I can’t pretend like we’ve got our act together, like being gay is going to fly with everyone. In Manhattan, it’s way less of a risk to lounge my leg across Valentino’s lap and rest my head on his shoulder and kiss him. Here, I’ve got to keep everything to myself. Our lives could depend on it.

I feel the tension in my chest, like my heart is being choked out. I’m too scared to even breathe because I might breathe too gay. I know that might sound like overkill to someone, but unless they’ve done years in the Bronx, I’m not interested in what they have to say. Body language is everything when you’re trying to stay alive.

That means not drawing attention to myself by holding the hand of the boy I really like. It’s heartbreaking to even have these thoughts, but that’s where we’re at up here.

I’m so relieved when Valentino and I go up the stairs and make it to the front door that’s as red as the Times Square glass benches. I pull out the key that I used to scratch Valentino’s name into the bench at the Brooklyn Bridge and unlock the door. We made it. We’re safe. And I’ve brought home a guy for the first time. He might even be the last. “I’m here,” I shout up the stairs.

I lead Valentino through the middle floor and into our living room. “This place is so nice,” Valentino says. He stops by the wall that has all our family pictures. I love all the casual ones, but I don’t really get involved with the professional photo shoots at JCPenney because I always feel like an add-on.

Valentino taps my school picture from fifth grade where I wasn’t smiling. “Bad day?” “First school picture without my parents,” I say. “That’ll do it.”

“Hey, garrochón,” Floyd says as he shakes my hand. He’s got that old-school Puerto Rican vibe where men don’t hug that much. My dad was like that a little too. “Glad you’re back in one piece.” “You too. Floyd, this is Valentino.” Floyd looks at Valentino a little skeptically. It could come off a little homophobic, not going to lie, but I know it’s probably more caution over having a living, breathing Decker in the house. He overcomes it with a handshake. “Nice to meet you, Valentino. I’m sorry for . . . you know.” “Thank you, sir.” “Call me Floyd, please. Come on downstairs.” Before I can ask why everyone’s downstairs, Valentino turns to me. “What’s a garrochón?” “Tall and lanky, basically.” “Been calling him that since he was a kid,” Floyd says as he goes down the stairs. “By the time he was twelve he was taller than me.” “Not that hard,” I say.

I expected to find the fam on the couch watching a movie or something because why else would they be down here, but there’s nothing but blankets and throw pillows there. “Surprise!” I tense up, and we find the ladies of Team Young out in the tiny backyard with a festive blanket thrown over the fold-out table. Dalma is holding roses, and Dahlia is raising a sign that reads WELCOME VALENTINO! with most of the letters covered in glitter, almost like she ran out of time or glitter, maybe both. Dayana is the first to walk over to Valentino and embrace him in her arms, like a mother. “It’s wonderful to meet you,” Dayana says, her palms on his face. “You too, Ms. Dayana,” Valentino says.

jag kommer dö wtf

“Did you know about this?” Valentino asks. “Hell no,” I say, both blown away and shocked. “Can we maybe chill on surprises when a dude with a heart condition is involved?” “I texted you,” Dalma says. I check my phone, and she did indeed throw a heads-up my way, but I haven’t taken my phone out of my pocket since we’ve been on the subway or when we were walking over so I wouldn’t get robbed. “My bad.” Dalma hands Valentino the roses. “I’m sorry for being so insensitive last night.” “Your heart was in the right place,” Valentino says. “But I went about it wrong. I hope you can forgive me.” Valentino hugs Dalma, and I kind of want to collapse on the couch and cry.

🥺🥺

Dalma stops me. “Hey, I hope this is okay. We thought it would be nice to thank him for everything and show him some family love.” “It’s perfect,” I say. “Or as perfect as an End Day can be with strangers.” “It seems like you’re more than strangers.” Unfortunately-slash-fortunately we are. However this End Day is destined to close out, it’s going to hurt far more than I can possibly imagine.

“Thank you all so much. This was really sweet of you.” “We wanted to welcome you to the city,” Dalma says. Orion is sitting quietly. I can tell how much this gesture means to him, but it seems to be making him really sad too.

“Do you think you wouldn’t be dying if you stayed?” Everyone shouts, “Dahlia!” “Dahl, that’s so rude,” Dalma says. Dahlia shrugs so big it seems exaggerated. “I’m just asking a question!” I want to ease the tension. “It’s a great question. I’ve wondered if Death-Cast would’ve called if I’d never left home. But I’m choosing to believe that staying in Arizona would’ve ruined my soul and that the one day I’ve had in the city is the most I’ve lived in a long time.”

😭😭

All the pictures we’ve taken for my sister and Orion to remember me by.

“I can’t remember the last time I’ve done so much in one day.” I slide my fingers through Orion’s and lock them together, knowing that the family sitting at this table will only look at us with pride and not judgment. “If I stayed in Arizona, I wouldn’t have met my first boyfriend.” Orion’s eyes widen and he smiles. “Boyfriend?” “If that’s okay with you.” “Hell yeah, boyfriend.” We kiss.

🖤

“I’m sorry to hear about Scarlett,” Dalma says. “Any chance she’ll make it out?” “I’m not counting on it,” I painfully admit. Today is about acceptance. Orion has encouraged me to control what I can and accept what I can’t. “I’m having a really lovely time with you, but would you mind if I actually called Scarlett? I’m feeling really inspired to set some things straight with my family after being welcomed by yours.” “Do you mean . . . ?” Orion asks. “Yes.” I’m going to call my parents and tell them it’s my End Day.

4:36 p.m. Coming out as gay was one thing. Coming out as a Decker is another.

Will my parents still tell me I’m going to hell once they discover it’s my End Day? I’ll get my answer soon.

I called Scarlett a few minutes ago, and she supports my choice to let our parents know. I don’t know how she would have dealt with this if I hadn’t come to this decision myself. As far as I’m concerned, she’s their favorite, but would they have held a grudge against her for not telling them it was my End Day? We’ll never have to find out, I suppose. I’m upstairs in the brownstone’s living room, next to the internet modem so I’ll have a stronger signal for the Skype call with Scarlett and our parents. Orion props his laptop on top of this corner desk, its cord plugged into an outlet because it’ll die if it’s not charging.

The desktop background is cluttered with Microsoft Word documents with file names like Watch Me Watch You and Golden Heart and Life Hostage and Never Right, Always Left. “You’ve written so many stories,” I say. “They’re all just drafts,” Orion says, drawing the curtain and allowing light in. “It’s still a lot.” “I just get in and get out. I don’t even correct typos.” “Only your eyes have been on them. Do you think . . . Are you still only wanting your eyes on your stories? It’s okay if so.” Orion smiles. “I’d love for you to be my first reader.”

🖤🖤

I get up and pull Orion into a hug; I like that I’ve lost count of how many times we’ve hugged. It means we’re making up for lost time and time that will be lost. “You’ve been here with me every step of the way today. I need to walk this path myself.” Orion kisses me. “You got this, Valentino.”

It’s telling that I could die on this webcam and my parents still wouldn’t believe Death-Cast predicted my fate the same way Scarlett will ultimately come to terms with it. Thankfully, I’m not trying to convince anyone that I’m going to die today. I just need to get some things off my chest. There’s also the matter of the morbid segue about how I need to get something out of my chest too. “Scar, there’s something else you should know.” She’s immediately alarmed as if I finally have some medical diagnosis that will lead to my death. “What?” “It’s a good thing. If I die, my heart will be donated to Orion.” Scarlett has the saddest smile. “That’s really beautiful.” “Hopefully Death-Cast is wrong, and I can personally introduce you two. Just know that I was always willing to give him my heart even when he was a really nice stranger, and now more than ever I’m proud that I’m going to have played a big role in helping my extraordinary boyfriend live on.” Her hands press against her own heart. “I’m excited to hang out with you and your boyfriend.” “I’d love that.”

🥺🥺🥺

I don’t think Scarlett and I will have a traditional goodbye. Not when she’s still holding on to hope that she’s going to see me tomorrow. I’ll have to find another way to say everything I have to say to my favorite person. “I’m ready,” I say. Scarlett carries the laptop into the living room, where Mom and Dad are on the couch rewatching It’s a Wonderful Life with their fans blowing. Scarlett grabs the remote and turns off the TV.

They’re both quiet, even though there’s plenty they can say. They can ask me about my flight. How I’m settling in. Even thank me for getting out of their house. But they look away as if their movie has resumed playing. I don’t necessarily want to see them later if all they’re going to do is repeat the same behavior that made me uncomfortable in the very house I grew up in. I’m about to ask Scarlett to return to her room with the laptop so we can spend this valuable time talking instead, but I’m not going to be driven away again. I’m going to live a first—the first time I talk openly about my life.

“You’re probably wondering why this is news to you since I’ve known since midnight. It’s because I was willing to die without telling you because I don’t believe you care about my life. I am your only son. Your firstborn. The reason you became parents, and you never even tried to love me once I told you I’m gay.” They both wince, like I’ve said a bad word. Like I’m bad. “There will come a time when you have to reckon with how you made me so unwelcomed that I moved away. But I want to thank you for being so unloving because it pushed me out of your house and into the arms of a boy with the biggest heart. He’s made sure my last day on this planet is filled with the love and kindness I deserve, and I’m going to spend what’s left of my life with him even if that means I’m going to hell when it’s all done.”

Orion 5:05 p.m. My boyfriend—yeah, boyfriend. And what!—is in my house. This is still blowing my mind. I wouldn’t have ever put down money on meeting someone who goes from “boy” to “boyfriend” in under a day. I should bet on myself some more. Last night, I swore Valentino was so out of my league, and I’m not knocking him now when I say that he isn’t. I’m just showing myself some love because I showed up for a stranger who needed some himself without expecting anything in return; I wasn’t even in it for the heart. We’re in the same league—except when it comes to train performances obviously—and I’m just as great and dope as he is, and we would’ve done even more great and dope things if we had the time to be great and dope together but the sun is going down and that means it’s almost lights out.

I’ve thanked my people a thousand times for showing up for Valentino like that and hitting him with the love that his own parents wouldn’t give him. “Okay, all done,” I say, rejoining everyone at the table. “He’s going to love it,” Dalma says. “I hope so.” I rap my knuckles against the table. “Seriously, thanks for everything.” A thousand and one.

“Look, I might not be an official Decker, but I could die tonight too. Are you going to feel good if we rush Valentino’s death and I also die?”

They don’t get how hard it’s going to be to live because of Valentino and without him. How every heartbeat is going to be him whispering for the rest of my life. I just don’t want to hear him telling me from beyond the grave that I pushed him to die so I can live.

Valentino is coming down the stairs, and I rise to meet him at the door. He’s carrying my laptop, and the closer he gets, the louder his cries become. I open my arms for a hug instead of clenching my fists like I want to because I’m so pissed that even with death on the horizon his parents couldn’t get their shit together. Valentino doesn’t come in for the hug, he tosses the laptop on the couch and grabs my face and kisses me. It’s not passionate like the first one on the Brooklyn Bridge, which is great because I don’t care that my family can see us but I’m not ready for them to watch me go in like that either. Valentino is kissing me like I’ve given him a present. “You okay?” I ask, breathing. “How’d it go?” “They said nothing, but I did. Everything I needed to.” “I’m happy for you. And your parents can kick rocks and—” “I don’t wish ill on them, Orion. Telling them that I’m willing to go to hell to live my life was all I needed to win.” “You said you’d go to hell? That’s some king shit.” He wipes his tears. “I’ll probably regret that if hell is real.” “Yeah, that’ll bite you in the ass. Hell sounds hot.” “Can’t be worse than an Arizona heatwave.” “But for real. How’d you leave things? They really didn’t say anything?” “Not a single word, Orion. I honestly thought they would apologize or tell me they love me or even something snotty about how this is what I get for going against God. But the silence started hurting even more, so I hung up. I thought it’d be better to cry ...

...

I grab his hand and lead him back outside, where there’s a loving family waiting for him. He doesn’t offer a ton more details than he did me, but they’re ready to go to war on his behalf too. Dayana looks nauseated from this story. “I love God, but God would never come between me and my children. If your parents had a healthier relationship with God, it wouldn’t have to.” “It means a lot to hear that,” Valentino says. “I’m sorry you’re not hearing it from your own mother and father,” Dayana says.

“You sure you stuck around long enough to make sure they didn’t have heart attacks?” “That’s dark,” Dalma says. “I can make that joke, the heart attackers are my community.”

But Dalma comes back around. “O-Bro . . .” That’s all she says before leaving us downstairs, closing the door behind her. But I know what she’s telling me to do. Well, what not to do. Don’t let Valentino die in vain. But first things first: a couple more firsts.

Valentino 5:23 p.m. “Welcome to the O-Zone,” Orion says, opening the door to his bedroom.

“What’s all that?” “We never got to have a proper first date,” Orion says, taking my hand and leading me to the bed. “I thought we could have it here.” “So you literally get in bed on the first date.” Orion laughs. “Only if I like the guy.” “Good for you.” “Good for us.”

“I hope that candle doesn’t fall over and set the bed on fire,” I say. “Hard same, that would suck.”

“Great start to our first date,” I say. “It gets better—I hope.” “If you’re thinking what I’m thinking—” “Oh, I’m thinking what you’re thinking, but I’m also thinking about how nervous I am to read you one of my stories.” “The story is what I was thinking about. What else were you thinking about?” Orion looks into my eyes before he realizes I’m teasing. “I hate you.” “No, you don’t.” “No, I don’t.”

There’s a tension between us before Orion grabs his phone. “I wrote this before I knew you, but it was about a heart transplant.” Orion begins reading me his short story “Golden Heart,” the same one I saw on the desktop of his laptop. It’s not a comedy, but I can’t help but laugh when Orion says the main character’s name is Orionis. But it gets darker when Death starts aging Orionis’s heart and he can only stay alive if Orionis dances with him. His life became this never-ending dance with Death, one he was ready to be over because living like that wasn’t life at all. Then he comes across an elderly man with a golden heart who was living carefree and doing everything Orionis couldn’t do. But it was breaking his heart to watch Orionis so miserable, just as mine breaks for Orion. The elder gives Orionis his heart as I will for Orion. Orion closes his phone. “That’s the end.” “It’s heavy and happy.”

“That’s sad, but that’s not the saddest part. The elder didn’t even know Orionis. I got to spend the day with the person who will have my heart.” “Big facts. I like knowing that I’m not being powered by a total shithead.”

Orion is trying to hide behind humor. I think we’re reaching that point. That point where we know we’re going to have to say goodbye. I grab his hand. “Do you think that you’ll write about me?” “There won’t be enough words, but you’re giving me the time to try to find them.”

...

I pull Orion into my lap and we stare at each other. “Thanks for welcoming me into the O-Zone.” “Thanks for walking into my life.” “Thanks for saving mine.” “Thanks for saving mine,” Orion repeats. We kiss like it’s a challenge to see how long we can before death breaks us apart. Then as we get more excited, we give in to a special first for both of us. I flip Orion to the bed, and he fakes concern over the unlit candle but he’s speechless when I lift off my shirt. His fingers trail down from my collarbone and through my pecs and trace my abs before unbuttoning my pants. It’s much smoother than me wrestling with his skinny jeans that cling to his legs for dear life. But once we’re both fully naked, we stare at each other with the biggest smiles. “Best day ever,” I say. “Best motherfucking day ever,” Orion says.