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I open his bedroom door slowly and quietly in attempt to avoid waking him.

Halfway through the motion I see the inside of his room and I stutter, door handle locked in my grip and unmoving. Then I push it away from me forcefully, as though it were ridden with disease.

I take a single step inside the room.

Oh god.

There's blood. There's a lot of blood.

He's there, lying in the middle of it.

He's face up and dormant in the bed wearing only his pants, he has a torrent of cuts scattered haphazardly across the undersides of his arms.

His eyes are closed.

He isn't moving.

There's so much blood.

He is completely drenched in it, so are the bedclothes. His arms and hands are entirely red. There are splotches across the carpet too and a trail from his ensuite bathroom to where he lays now.

He's unresponsive.

Adrian.

Is this really happening?

My fox.

Why?

My best friend.

Oh god.

I think...

I think he's dead.

I'm hyperventilating.

Oh god. I think he's dead.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Adrian.

My fox, Adrian.

"Fuck!"

Adrian?

No.

He isn't fucking moving.

Wait wait wait

He

He isn't fucking moving.

Time unfreezes, I'm upon him in moments.

"ADRIAN!"

I take hold of his shoulders.

"ADRIAN!

I feel his neck, his chest.

He isn't breathing.

Through the blood and gore I feel his wrists.

There's no pulse.

There's no pulse.

He isn't moving.

There's no pulse

There's no

That means.

There's

that

adrian?

I tie my shirt around his left arm as a makeshift bandage, then find the shirt he discarded and tie it around his right

I'm pumping my paws against his chest as though he were choking

My maw is bloodied as I try to give him the kind of kiss of life I've seen in movies

nothing

I take the phone from his pocket and call nine one one

emergency services

yes, he hurt himself, badly

no, he's not breathing

yes, there's no pulse

will you send a medical team?

thank you

no

I know, it's just

no

I do understand that he

I just

I just

thank you

I kiss his forehead.

I sit beside him and take hold of his paw.

I can't feel a thing.

I can't feel a single thing.

I wish I could believe I'm asleep, that this is all a nightmare, but I can't.

I know it's real.

I find the razor blade he used.

I can't feel a thing.

I leave it where it lies and I wait.

I keep hold of his paw.

I can't look at him but I can't let go.

I can't feel anything.

They arrive, they take us away, they take him away from me. I panic. I calm down. They ask me all kinds of questions that I'm not able to answer. I barely speak a word.

It's real, yes, but it's wrong. Why can't they understand that? This doesn't make sense. It's all so absurd

They ask me the questions again but I still can't answer.

Someone comes in. There's some new information. They've ruled it as a suicide.

Suicide.

It's no revelation, yet...

Concrete and bare it becomes terrifying.

How long before I got there?

That's what I ask.

Do you know how long?

They don't know.

Not yet.

I remember holding his paw.

He was still warm.

He was...

He was still warm.

I asked, but I'm the one who knows how long.

Not long.

If I were to guess, I'd say ten minutes.

If I had realized sooner.

If I had asked Eve the right questions.

If I had run faster.

If I had his fucking spare key ready.

If I...

I can't feel anything.

If I took that call.

If I had listened to him.

If I had been a good friend.

He was probably alive when I entered the building.

I can't feel a single thing.

He was definitely alive when I was running there.

Every other concern in my life is null. Nothing else matters. Those ten minutes are all I can think of.

They ask me the same questions. I answer a few of them this time.

They let me go.

They tell me they will be in touch.

I walk all the way to Marty and Ryan's, still shirtless and half covered in blood.

When Ryan answers the door he flinches and goes wide eyed.

"Kale, oh my god! What happened."

I ask for my phone.

"Of course, oh fuck. What happened? Here you go."

I take my phone and leave without another word.

I turn it on. The screen brightens and I shove it in my pocket without waiting for it to boot up.

I walk all the way home.

I sit down.

I keep on sitting.

I stand up.

I walk all the way to Eve's.

When she answers the door she flinches and goes wide eyed at the sight of me. She's speechless.

I can't feel a thing.

I'm speechless.

She ushers me in.

We aren't speaking.

We sit in her living room.

We still aren't speaking.

I can't feel anything.

"Kale?" She asks. She pauses. She realizes the correct question. "Adrian?"

Adrian.

And there it is.

The word hits me like a rage-filled fist.

It breaks me.

I start crying and

I start crying and I can't stop.

She cries too.

She hold me in her arms.

She keeps crying and she can't stop.

I hold her in my arms.

Tears and sobs and wordless understanding.

It's not a revelation but a confirmation when I say:

"Suicide."

Amid tears she finds a question.

"Did you go to him after you called?"

"Yes."

"Was he alive when you got there?"

"No."

"How long had it been since...?"

I can't take it.

I shatter again, my being spread out across more and more disparate pieces.

"Ten minutes, give or take."

We keep on crying.

It's too much.

Eventually we run out of tears.

We are hollow.

I take the phone from my pocket and wake it up.

I see the notifications:

forty-seven missed calls.

twenty-six texts.

Five voicemails.

I stare at the screen.

I keep staring.

I stand up and walk through the house and into the back garden.

Eve follows, timid, unsure of my intent.

I pick up a shovel and move to the center of a patch of grass.

I place the phone on the ground, lift up the shovel and bring it down on the phone's screen, hard. There's a loud crack as the phone caves in on itself and bounces a foot or so away. I follow it and hit it with the shovel again. Then again. And again.

I pick up the remains and throw them in the trash.

Eve says nothing.

She's stood at the entrance to the house.

I stay where I am. I turn my back on her.

"What a fucking idiot."

"Who? Adrian?"

"Who the fuck else? I'm so angry at him I can't even- What the hell was he thinking? Why did he think this would- this would..." My voice breaks off into a sob. When I do manage to speak again my words are soaked in despair instead of anger. "Why did he think this would help? Why did he think this was the right solution?"

"I don't know," Eve says voice devoid of life. "I don't know."

My anger resurfaces, this time no longer directed at Adrian.

I walk up to Eve, I stare her straight in the eyes and say:

"I fucking hate myself."

She stares right back, matching my intensity in its entirety.

"Me too."

We go inside and sit opposite one another in the dining room, staring into each other's eyes listlessly.

"What do we do now?" I ask after a while.

"I don't know."

A pause.

A thought.

"Should we kill ourselves?" I ask, voice even, calm.

She twitches, gives me an odd sort of look.

"Should we k...?" She starts, but the words drift off.

She bursts into laughter.

For a moment I'm confused.

Then I join in, it's infectious, it's obvious.

We laugh together. We laugh loud and we laugh for a long time.

It really is quite funny.

I wonder if he'd laugh too, if he were still here. If it were Eve or I who were gone in his place.

I remember the warmth of his smile.

I remember the warmth of his body against mine.

I remember the warmth of his paw as I clutched it tight, as that same warmth left his body, as the last signs of his life petered out into nothing.

I remember the warmth of him.

Now it's all gone.

If he were here I'm sure he'd laugh.

I'm sure he would.

What else is there to do?