“Should’ve seen him in high school,” his dad said. “Started varsity as a freshman.”
Gus mumbled, “Can I go downstairs?” His mom and dad wheeled the chair downstairs with Gus still in it,
bouncing down crazily in a way that would have been dangerous if danger retained its relevance, and then they left us alone.
He got into bed and we lay there together under the covers, me on my side and Gus on his back, my head on his bony shoulder,
his heat radiating through his polo shirt and into my skin, my feet tangled with his real foot, my hand on his cheek.
When I got his face nose-touchingly close so that I could only see his eyes, I couldn’t tell he was sick.
We kissed for a while and then lay together listening to The Hectic Glow’s eponymous album,
and eventually we fell asleep like that, a quantum entanglement of tubes and bodies.
We woke up later and arranged an armada of pillows so that we could sit comfortably against the edge of the bed
and played Counterinsurgence 2: The Price of Dawn. I sucked at it, of course, but my sucking was useful to him:
It made it easier for him to die beautifully, to jump in front of a sniper’s bullet and sacrifice himself for me,
or else to kill a sentry who was just about to shoot me. How he reveled in saving me.
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색