I know something you don't

Sandy squints at the people on the sidewalk as he walks out of the subway.

Yes, he is aware that it’s a universal fact that parents of newborn babies usually suffer from sleep deprivation.

And as someone who went to lawschool, who has suffered through his fair amount of adhd induced insomnia episodes and all-nighter study sessions, he knows that sleep deprivation never comes without consequences.

He learned that the hard way when he fainted after taking the bar exam.

His husband is yet to forgive him for the scare Sandy gave him that day.

He rubs his hand over his tired eyes willing the red numbers he sees to go away.

Eventhough he’s had his fair experiences with sleep deprivation but he’s never hallucinated before.

And yet he can’t think of another explanation for the scene folding out infront of him.

He crosses the road clutching his life saving reusable coffee cup and work bag harder than strictly necessary.

No matter how hard he squints with his eyes or how many desperate sips of coffee he takes, he keeps seeing red numbers pop up above the head of every person he passes.

At first he thought he may be seeing a reflection of some red light coming from a storefront.

But with every step he takes it's becoming more apparent that he may very well be losing it.

How else can you explain that he’s seeing future dates fly above people’s head in blood red inkt?

With a groan he grabs his phone, from the pocket of his suit, and taps his emergency contact.

A few hours ago he was still parading around in a t-shirt with a suspicious stain on it, something he’s learned can’t be avoided when you’re the parent of newborn twins.

He may look slightly more presentable now, but he certainly doesn’t feel it.

Skipping a night of sleep to bottle feed new born babies, and possibly hallucinating on your subway ride to work will do that to you.

Atleast seeing Quinn always makes him feel more at ease, even after many years together.

The call finally connects and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Hey, baby”, he says softly, a smile spreading across his face.

Quinn holds the phone at an unflattering angle while holding a twin in each hand.

“Hello, love, I can’t really talk right now. I only have two hands and we have two babies.”

Sandy laughs. “Considering the fact that I just spend a few weeks at home with them I was familiar with that.”

He and his husband were both working office jobs until the adoption of Riley and Redouan was finalized.

Now Quinn works from home as a freelance journalist, having quit his job at the New York Times, so they don’t have to bring their kids to nursery.

He’s hoping to finally finish his manuscript and send it off to an agent.

Sandy is sure he’ll sell the manuscript because his husband is the most brilliant writer he’s ever met.

His vivid imagination is exactly why he’s the first person Sandy wanted to talk to when he realized something was off.

“Whats wrong, love?” Quinn asks as he walks through their house awkwardly balancing the phone between his shoulder so he doesn’t drop one of the babies.

Sandy sighs. “Okay, so don’t freak out, but I am seeing things.”

He can practically hear Quinn frown.

“Like ghosts or visions?” He asks sounding more serious than is required of a grown man in a situation like this.

Sandy groans. “No... like numbers. I think I see red dates pop up above the head of everyone I come across. What do you think that could mean?” He asks frustrated.

‘I think you’re probably sleep deprived considering you have two infants ar home. Are you sure you can’t cal in sick and come home?” Quinn asks, sounding concerned.

“Yes, I am sure. I can’t call in sick 10 minutes before the work day starts, babe”, Sandy reminds his husband gently.

Then he sighed dramatically. “Why are you coming up with reasonable explanations, babe? The whole reason I called you is because I wanted you to use that vivid imagination of yours to tell me what might be going on with me.”

Quinn laughs. “Alright, I can do that too. Okay, let’s see. You want to know what the purpose of your supposed magical ability would be... if I were writing a story where my main charachter suddenly saw dates pop up above people’s heads?”

Sandy grins. “Yes, exactly. Tell me what that briliant writer brain comes up with.”

“Well it would depend on the genre of the novel i’m writing ”, Quinn starts.

His first manuscript had been a queer romance novel but he was currently plotting a thriller.

Sandy bites his lip. “Tell me your ideas for both.”

“Okay, are the dates in the future or in the past?” Quinn asks.

Sandy loved that he was taking this so serious.

That was Quinn for you, he was always more than willing to join Sandy in whichever wild adventure he came up with.

“All the dates I’ve seen so far, on my way to work, take place in the future”, Sandy explains.

‘Where are you right now, love?” Quinn asks curiously.

“I am sitting on a park bench, sipping an oatmik latte, trying to think of creative ways to use my new ability so I can quit my job and become a certified superhero”, he jokes.

Quinn laughs. “Well, I’ll help you with that. But darling, how much coffee have you had already?”

Sandy rolls his eyes at his husband. ‘Babe, everyone knows that when you’re a new parent your caffeine intake doesn’t start to count until you’ve had atleast three cups.”

Quinn scoffs. “If I end up in an early grave it’s going to be your fault.”

Sandy laughs. “You’re so dramatic. Now are you going to help me or not?”

Quinn sighs. “Yes, ofcourse. Okay, If I were writing a romance novel I’d say the dates you were seeing were the dates people are going to meet their soulmate. If I were writing a thriller I’d say the dates you’re seeing are the dates people will die.”

Sandy gasps. “Oh, my god. I hadn’t even thought of that yet. I have to go now, baby. I still have to walk to the office from the parc.”

“For the record, I’d like it to be said that I don’t think you are seeing those things. I was talking about a purely hypothetical situation for charachters in a magical realism romance novel or a pshycologial thriller with Sci-fi elements. I think you are hallucinating from lack of sleep”, Quinn tells him sternly.

"I should have never let you get up for the diaper changes last night, I was just so tired”.

“It’s not your fault, baby. The kids are as much my priority as they are yours”, Sandy reminds his husband gently.

Quinn groans. “I’d really prefer it if you called in sick, darling. If you’re hallucinating your sleep deprivation must be worse than we thought”.

“I am fine, baby”, Sandy assures him.

He crosses the road and notices a guy on a bike with today’s date above his head.

For that guy’s sake he hopes he sees the date of people’s meet cute with their soulmate.

He clears his throat. “How are the kids doing? I miss you guys already”.

“Riley still refuses to keep her diaper clean for more than 38 seconds at a time and Redouan is yet to stop crying”, Quinn complains.

“So nothing has changed then?” Sandy chuckles. “I’ll be home to give you a break in a few hours, babe. I love you”.

“I love you too, darling. Promise me you’ll go home if things get worse.’

“I will, babe. Oh, and before you ask I couldn’t see your date. So I think my superpower doesn’t transfer through phones.”

Sandy hangs up and puts the phone in his pocket as he makes his way toward the big lawfirm across the street.

He turns around the corner and abruptly drops his coffee when he realizes that the guy that had biked past him earlier is sprawled on the ground covered in blood.

As he rushes toward the guy he regrets every life decision he’s ever made, including the fact that he didnt become a paramedic like his 16 year old self once dreamed of.

Luckily for the guy’s sake someone who likes like they know what they’re doing is already crouched next to the guy.

A shiver runs down him as he realizes what this means.

He truly can see the date people are going to die.

Either that or this is a freaky coincidence and he really is hallucinating.

He walks in to the office with a high heart rate, feeling on edge and slightly like he might throw up.

The first thing he does when he gets to his office is dump his bag on the floor, grab the best papi mug that his bestfriend Santiago got for him as a babyshower gift and walks over to the fancy coffee machine.

One of the best things about working at a fancy lawfirm, other than the fact that he’s fulfilled a life long dream of becoming an immigration lawyer, has got to be his unlimited access to quality coffee.

He has wanted to be an immigration lawyer ever since he heard the struggles his abuelo and abuela had to go through to move their family from Mexico to America,

When he makes his way back to his office he groans as he watches his one sided arch-nemesis Salim Owens wait for him at his office door.

“Sandy, how has your first day back at work been treating you, man?” He asks as he opens Sandy’s office door with a grin.

“I’d prefer it if you call me Alexander, Mr Owens. Sandy is a nickname reserved for my friends and loved ones”, he says bitterly.

It wasn’t neccesarily true.

Yes, Sandy was a common Greek nickname for the name Alexander and his mother did start this trend but it’s not like he only let her call him that.

Sandy pretty much listened to every variation of his name and every imaginable nickname at this point.

His Mexican father usually called him the Spanish version of Alexander; Alejandro.

He was Sandy, Lex, or Alex to most his friends and his husband Quinn usually went for whatever name he was in the mood for.

At one point people at Quinn’s office had even started speculating that he may be seeing someone on the side, because he never used the same name when he referred to his husband.

Sandy smiled at the memory of how offended Quinn had been when he found out.

They were at one of Quinn’s office Christmas parties when someone purposefully referred to him as Sandy after Quinn had introduced him as his husband Alexander.

His colleague, Jessica was obsessed with gossip and delighted with the idea that she might be able to reveal Quinn’s illicit affair to Sandy.

Sandy had doubled over in laughter.

The idea that his golden retriever like husband could ever cheat on him was laughable.

A drunk Quinn had gone on a 45 minute rant about how he’d never cheat on Sandy, how he took pride in the fact that they were highschool sweethearts and how important loyalty was to him.

So yes, Sandy listened to all the many variations of his name, without complaining, but he’d never miss out on an opportunity to give Salim shit.

He couldn’t stand the way the man pretented to be his friend when his sarcasm was very clearly homophobia poorly disguised as a joke.

Sandy grits his teeth and tries to hold himself back from pointing out what the numbers he’s been staring at this whole time spell out.

But apparently he can’t help himself, because he hears himself say, “Oh, by the way man, I thought you might want to know that you’re going to die 13 years from now.”

Atleast it’s not a lie.

Hell, maybe he did the man a favour.

The idea that he only has 13 years left on this earth might inspire him to do some souls earthing.

Salim turns around sharply. “Is that a threat?” he scoffs.

Sandy shakes his head. “No, it’s just a fact.”

Salim rolls his eyes at him. “Look, I know I was a bit of a dick to you in highschool but that was years ago, there is no need to threaten to murder me in the future because of something that happened ages ago.”

Sandy nods. “Yeah, you were a dick to me when we were in the same swimming team. I had to remind you a thousand times that being into sports and being into men aren’t mutually exclusive. But I wasn’t threatening you, I just thought you might like to know how much time you have left to turn your life around”, he says sickenly sweet.

“Oh, so you’re pshycic now?” Salim scoffs.

“It appears so. You should be grateful I gave you access to my insights for free”, Sandy teases.

Salim glares at him once more before slamming his office door shut.

Sandy had hoped to do more productive things with his newly discovered power than piss of his enemies, but he has all the time of the world to do that.

He vows to himself that the next time he’ll reveal someone’s faith it won’t be for evil purposes.

He knows this ability would be groundbreaking if he’d been a brain surgeon or an oncologist.

But he promises to himself that he’ll do the gift justice.

He contemplates calling Quinn again, because that’s his go to solution for any curveball life might throw at him, but if he tells his husband that he watched a man die on his way to work Quinn will surely force him to take the rest of the day off.

And he’s not ready to go home yet.

The mare idea of seeing the death dates of his 3 week old children, even if they’ll most likely be in the far future, makes him want to fling himself out of the nearest window.

The rest of the day goes by in a blurr.

He drinks more of the free delicious oatmilk lattes than his heart would probably like, pretends not to stare at the dates above his clients heads, shows babypicutures to every colleague that seems even remotely interested and keeps notes of everyone’s supposed death date in his black notebook.

He’s been wracking his brain trying to come up with a reason for his sudden pshycic abilities.

As far as he knows he wasn’t struck by lightening and he didn’t drink any suspicious potions so he’s come to the conclusion that his sudden abilities must come with a purpose.

Maybe he’s supposed to warn someone that their death date is nearing and he could very well be the only person truly perfect for the job.

That in it self is a terrifying thought, because if the person he’s meant to warn would listen to him it would make sense that it’s someone who trusts him and thinks highly of him.

And he’d really rather not have to find out that one of his loved ones is dying soon.

In the back of his mind he’s been repeating Quinn’s far more socially acceptable theory that he’s simply sleep deprived.

After the freak day he’s had today he can’t wait to go home and cuddle with his kids and his husband.

Quinn had texted him earlier today that as a husband Sandy’s hallucinations worried him a great deal but as a writer he found them incredibly inspiring.

After checking on Sandy to make sure he was okay he’d asked his permission to start a new manuscript inspired by Sandy’s supposed new super power.

Unfortunately for Sandy he refused to acknowledge the possibility that Sandy could be experiencing anything other than a temporary hallucination.

The more time passed the more Sandy started to believe he really did uncover a pshycic ability, considering the fact he felt normal.

And then there was also the jaw dropping realization that he could see the death date of deceased people.

Sandy had come to this realization when he’d been called to the office of his boss Zara Torrez.

He’d almost screamed when he’d looked at a picture of Zara’s family.

Zara’s son died on the 1st of September in 2018 and that same date had appeared above Yusuf’s head in the picture.

The realization that Sandy could check the accuracy of his ability and that he could determine someone’s death date through physical pictures felt life changing.

But it had also freaked him out.

More than anything he wishes he’d figured out a way to turn his pshycic abilities off before he returned home.

No parent should have to attend their kid’s funeral and the idea that he’d be faced with the future death dates of his children was freaking him out.

He unlocks the front door, trying to be as quiet as possible in the off chance Redouan has finally managed to fall asleep.

Quinn greets him at the front door with a bright smile and a sleeping baby in each arm.

The moment Sandy looks up to him he falls to his knees, his coffee mug and work bag fall on to the ground their continents spilling all over their hardwood floor.

“Love, are you alright?” Quinn asks concerned as he puts the babies in their crib so he can help Sandy up.

Sandy’s tearfilled eyes stare unblinking toward the red date that popped up above Quinn’s head the moment their eyes met.

Sandy’s heart is in his throat and his hands are shaking as he stares at tomorrow’s date that is floating above Quinn’s head in red inkt.