The Only Thing Left is a Good Death

Death had never been so certain.

Now, it was the only thing sure to come, and in that realization, I should have felt fear. I should have ran. But there was no running, there was no other way this could end, and I searched for a way to find comfort in the end, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't seem to make it happen. I couldn't end things, not like this.

But I needed to try, and I needed to decide quickly how to do it.

I stared down the cliff, watching the monster waves crash against the flattened rocks below, listening as the wind and the waves consumed everything around me, and thinking about how to die.

I could jump. But there was no guarantee the fall would kill me, it could just break my legs. I could try going head first. But that would hurt. A lot. Maybe not for long, but who knows how long pain stays with you in the afterlife?

I knew if I couldn't decide, the water would take me and I would drown, but now that the end was here, I realized I didn't want to suffocate. The very thought of it was suddenly incredibly real, and I disliked the idea of any sort of suffering or discomfort.

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all, huh?" Dylan shouted over the wind. He stood to my left, tense.

I wanted to tell him it was at least partially his idea. I wanted to alleviate any of my guilt. These were my final moments, I didn't want to feel bad about anything.

"It was fun, though, while it lasted," I turned my head to the ancient castle to my right. "I mean, a once in a lifetime experience. To see this before it gets swallowed up."

It was a scavenger hunt of sorts. A game for a group of photographers worldwide. Take a picture of something rare and beautiful and submit your entries to the contest. The winners get a hundred thousand dollars and a full equipment overhaul. I was so confident we could win with this, I had talked Dylan into hiring a helicopter pilot with the promise of paying the money back.

"When I agreed to be your partner, I thought you might want to photograph a snow leopard or something," he was looking down at the water.

"Is that what you thought?" I teased, fully aware this was not the time for it.

"You just really like animals," he shouted.

"Shut up, this is supposed to be the end!"

"Have you decided how to do it?"

"No," my voice shook. "Have you?"

He stayed silent, looking down. I joined him. The rocks stared back and offered no answers. They presented themselves, wide and smooth, telling us everything they were without hinting at what they could do for us. That was for us to decide.

I looked back at Dylan as he continued staring down. As time passed, I got more used to the idea that this was the end for me. I had almost grown comfortable with the idea that there was nothing left after this, even if I had not gotten comfortable with the idea that it still had to happen. But when I looked at him, I got a knot in my stomach, the pain of which was compounded by the guilt I felt for bringing him here, and for not bringing myself to even tell him why.

While we had been globetrotting for our photography game, I had been playing a game of my own with Dylan. Of all the partners he could have chosen to be with, I pushed the hardest, desperate for time alone with him, but as each moment passed, I tried harder and harder to read him, searching for any hint that he might want something more than a working relationship, or even a friendship. He showed me everything he is, he has always been an open book. But I never bothered asking him what he wanted. I never told him what I wanted. And taking him to a secluded island with an ancient castle, surrounded by one of his favorite things to study, seemed like the perfect way to get him to fall for me without ever having to directly confront my own feelings.

It all seemed innocent enough, and everything might have been falling into place. But toying with him brought him here, deciding how to die. It's a good thing I'll join him, because I could not forgive myself otherwise.

"Maybe we should go back inside," he yelled.

"No. I want to do this," I watched the waves crash a little closer this time as the water rose.

"I'm sorry man... I gotta get inside," he ran from my side and into the castle, closing the door the best he could.

The air felt colder. The sea was angrier. And the guilt was stronger than anything I had ever known, and now I was alone. I couldn't stay still. My chest was tight and I felt a tingle in my legs that would not allow them to stay planted on the cold, damp rock. If it weren't for the rain on my face, I might have even felt a few tears drop, but with the cold air hitting my eyes, it was hard to feel anything but the guilt eating me from the inside, so I started moving, too, and made my way into the castle to join Dylan.

When I got inside, the noise from the storm became more muffled, but still present; however, it did little to hide the sound of cries coming from a room inside. I followed it until I found Dylan curled up next to a large, wooden box we had filled with supplies. I stood at the doorway, unsure of what to say or do, knowing I could possibly make things worse.

But there was nothing left after this. No one would ever know what happened here. And that became my driving force.

"Do you blame me?" My voice cracked as I asked.

"W-what?" Dylan turned to face me, wiping his eyes. He was never the type to show any emotion, let alone cry in front of others.

"I dragged you here," I continued, failing to hold back tears. "This is my fault. I just..."

"No," he said. "I mean, I did, at first. When the helicopter crashed on its way back, I said some things... but I don't blame you."

We both sniffled, which was the only thing that broke the silence between us for a bit.

"I think-" he sat up against the wall and stared at the floor. "I think realizing I'm about to die has just made things more clear."

"For me, too," I said.

A weak smile came across his face and he let out a chuckle.

"I never shoulda took Brian's lunch at work," he laughed. "But damn it, it looked so good."

We both laughed, probably harder than we would have if he said that under any other circumstance.

"I mean, I love Indian food, I couldn't help it!" he continued.

My laughter died down as his continued, but it didn't take long for him to notice.

"I shouldn't have dragged you here," I looked at the ceiling, which was dripping water from the rain coming in through the decayed structure.

"No!" Dylan stood up, but seemed unsure of what to do from there. "No, this? This was so cool. I'm glad I got to see this before the ocean swallowed it up. Who knows if it could survive that? I don't think it would. No, I've always wanted to see this, and you gave me that chance. I don't blame you at all for what happened."

"But I didn't do it for you," I couldn't bring myself to make eye contact, but I felt his gaze on me.

"You..." he didn't seem to know what to say.

"I did it for me, I wanted you all to myself," I admitted. "I thought if I got you here... I don't know, I just wanted to see you happy. And I guess I wanted to be the reason you were happy."

"You..." he repeated, looking down again. "You have... feelings for me?"

"And look where that got us," my voice cracked again as my vision became blurry. "I just wish I said something sooner instead of playing some stupid game to see how much I could get you to like me, first."

Dylan looked up again, then back down at the floor, which was slowly starting to flood.

"You didn't need to take me to a castle to get me to like you," he said slowly. "I came here with you because I already do. I wanted to be alone with you, too. I-I'd be lying if I said I wasn't playing my own game with you."

I looked up at him, his gaze still on the floor.

"Dylan, I-" I realized it was our own stupid games we played with each other that got us here. I couldn't decide how to feel about that.

"I think we are all hopelessly flawed," he laughed, quoting his favorite line from Little Women.

"You know, even though you seem so manly and tough, you are just some softy who loves classic literature," I teased him, causing him to giggle. "It's one of the reasons I love you."

He stopped abruptly. I didn't care if it was weird, though, it was all I had left. There was no one to be embarrassed in front of, not anymore.

"I love you, too," he said quickly. "I love you." He said it again, slowly.

Without thinking, I walked up to him and took him in my arms, embracing him until our lips met.

"You know, we could die like this, and historians will still think we were just really good friends," I joked.

"Are we not?"

"Maybe a little more."

"Even if no one ever knows?"

I thought about it, still wrapped in his arms.

"Even if no one knows," I pulled away and grabbed his hands. "No one will ever know what happened here. But that's okay. Because this time. It is ours. It belongs to us. That's what matters."

"I suppose so," he said softly, going in for another kiss. "Brandon?"

I opened my eyes as he pulled away.

"Do you have any regrets?" he asked.

"I have a lot."

"Me, too."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not at all."

"Then... what should we do now?" he asked.

I looked out the door, no longer afraid of what comes next.

"I think all that's left to do is die."

We started walking outside, our hands together, our fingers interlocked, ready to face the end with the last partner we will ever know. I knew whatever pain or discomfort we had coming, it was nothing compared to the guilt I was feeling earlier. Even if no one knew our story, it was fine, because we had both been given a good death.