The Rest of the Story

by Tal Bauer

When he was himself, he had the energy and good humor of a well-sugared toddler.

Bryce Michel was a very boring man.

Only half, because no one could ever really be as wonderful.

The bravery inside Shea would break your heart. He was so brave, every damn day.

We were stranded on this bed, stranded together, weightless like we were plunging from the top floor of the hotel to the hard streets below. I heard nothing, save for a single, shrill note: the sound of a heart cracking in slow motion.

“Morgan,” he breathed, so softly I don’t think I was supposed to hear him. He nuzzled my jaw, pressed his lips to my neck. “I’m in love with you.”

He tumbled into unconsciousness in my arms, breathing me in, his confession a brand on my soul. I was awake for hours.

I’m yours. I’m yours as long as you want me. You can smash me to pieces, shatter me into smithereens, and it will all be worth it, just for the chance to be part of your life.

I wanted to give Shea the world. He wanted me to be me. Buying him his favorite flavor of coffee creamer seemed like a step in the right direction.

How they could take all the shit the world threw at them and their loved ones and then power through it, stack all the tragedy up and move forward, pick up the pieces and keep going, keep loving.