Chapter Text
Ander had reached that point where he didn't know what to do to push him away. He had reached that point where almost nothing he had tried was left.
He lied to him over and over again. He had implied over and over that he no longer wanted him. He had implied that he was tired of him. He said their relationship were no more than a lovemaking. He said that they didn't know each other well enough, it was a compulsion that they were to be together.
But none of them worked to push Omar away from him.
Maybe he could tell more painful lies than these if he really wanted him to go. Maybe he should have told him the facts in an even more painful way. He could tell him more painful facts than these. He could say that it makes no sense to be with a dead man. He could say that he couldn't have sex with a dead man, or that loving a dead man would gain him nothing.
Yet he had said many things like that.
I don't want you to carry a burden that doesn't belong to you, that's all.
Don't spoil the little time I have left.
Despite all this, he didn't know why he hadn't gone by his side, despite all his insolent behavior. He didn't know why Omar still left him or not.
Was it just an obligation perverted by love to undertake such a heavy burden? Ander didn't think Omar had anything but an obligation to be with him.
After talking to that man, he couldn't imagine that, after seeing those messages, it was nothing but an obligation for Omar to stay with him.
He hadn't seen him inflicting such pain on Omar. He hadn't seen that he felt captive to him. He didn't really care how exactly the man he loved was feeling. Clearly, he didn't care about anything other than pushing him. He had used the path he had chosen to save him from his own illness, he had done a lot of things to get him out of his head, to push him away. He used words most of all while doing this. He had used all the words he thought could hurt him. How would a person say those words to the man he fell in love with?
Ander had said it. Ander had said all the insults to the man he fell in love with. No one knew how Ander felt when he said those words. Because Ander had closed himself. He closed himself thinking that each time Omar would return to him. Omar had chosen Ander. Ander was used to this fact.
But Omar hadn't chosen him out of gratitude to Ander.
He had seen Ander's desire to protect him and had chosen him. He chose him because he saw how precious he was to him. He chose him because he fell in love with him every time. As Ander thought about these, his guilt became unbearable.
But he was in the final point now. On the borderline. He could not continue to live -living the remaining time- thinking that Omar lived a life of prison next to him.
It was foolish to think that he wouldn't walk away even if he told him all the bitter things, bitter lies or truths. He knew that if he told him that he was in love with someone else, Omar wouldn't stay with him.
He knew that if he told him that he had cheated on him, that he had cheated on him during that crappy sick time, he would no longer stay with him.
He would have lied if he said he was't hurt when he spoke to that man. He didn't know whether he would have spoken to that man so calmly if he hadn't been dying in the disease. If it wasn't for that terrible disease, he wouldn't have said those painful words directly to Omar. He wouldn't leave him in another man's arms. He wouldn't have given him a prison life. He wouldn't give him the life he lived with his family. He wouldn't hurt him.
He felt his face burn as he sat by the fireplace. The burning sensation on his face had stopped his tears. During this time, he had plenty of time not to cry and repeat his lies to himself. At least he thought he had plenty of time.
Before long, Omar appeared at the entrance door of the room. There was a slight anger and reproach in his voice.
"Where the fuck were you?"
Ander sighed when he heard this. He felt the fatigue of his feet, the tiredness of thinking about what he had to say, as if everything was together. He was tired.
"You could at least reply to my fucking messages."
He was still not ready to look at him when he straightened up from the sides of the fireplace. He was still not ready to see his face. He was still not ready to say those words. He just wanted that fire to burn his face for a long time. He looked into the fire. A few more seconds.
Ander felt him approach to himself. He felt right there, he felt there he was standing next to the bed. He couldn't turn his back. He couldn't look at him.
He couldn't hear what he was saying. Or he could hear but could not understand. His brain was too tired to think of two things at once. Or many things. If he responded to what he said it would be a lie. What he said would be a lie.
For a moment it seemed to be turning to him. But he hadn't looked into his face. He couldn't look at his face. He took his tired steps towards the bed. He wanted to have that conversation and set him free as soon as the burning sensation on his face wore off.
"We need to talk."
Ander said before putting his body on the bed. He still couldn't believe his mouth was opened. This was proof that he was still strong. It was proof that he could speak, no matter how hard it was. No matter fatigue or pain, he could still speak. Such things would not make you mute.
He felt Omar slowly approaching. He felt as if Omar was stepping into that short distance.
He did not lift his face. He couldn't see what Omar would experience. He wasn't a man arrogant enough to look at the face of the man he fell in love with as if nothing. He looked at the fire on the floor, even in the fireplace.
Maybe that fire would burn him from this distance.
"So?"
When Ander clumsily opened his mouth, he heard his voice again. His mouth, which opened a few millimeters, was ready to be closed.
He turned his head. Maybe he was looking for a place to escape. He was looking for a place where he could escape his illness, facts and lies. Although his mouth was open, he could not speak.
Ander could feel Omar looking at himself. Or he just fleeing his face.
There was no point in thinking. There was no point in seeking an escape route. There was no point in wanting to take shelter in the inanimate around him.
"I've been with Alexis."
His mouth is closed. It was an irony that what he said and his mouth shut at the same time. But then he had to swallow to open his mouth. He had to swallow or adjust the words he was going to say. To persuade him, he had to say damaging words.
"I'm with Alexis. I have been for a long time."
He thought of the lie he was going to tell so well that he knew that if he got a fake person involved, Omar would understand. He had thought so well that he had told his lie, he told the person that Omar was uncomfortable with his presence. He thought of his lie so badly that he didn't think Omar knew from the very beginning that it would be a lie.
At first, Omar's reaction was dull. Unresponsive and soulless. However, he later laughed at this. An emotionless smile that sounds just like breathing.
Ander would later even apologize to convince him. In fact, he would apologize to Omar for a man he was not with, while apologizing to him for so many things completely different from his heart.
He would apologize for lying to him, for hurting him, for giving him a life of prisoner, and more.
Before he could even touch his knee or hug him, he would say goodbye. It's as if everything they had ever lived through was nothing. He would pretend it was nothing for Omar to stand next to him until that day. As if Omar didn't matter to him.
He simply could no longer adjust the control of his voice as much as he wanted. While it seemed easy to lie, it was one of the most difficult things for him. The reason he contracted this terrible disease was that he was sinking into his own lies.
He was drowned in lies.
Lying to his loved ones was always a punishment for him. But this punishment wasn't enough. He was sick. He had lost his health. Now he was losing him too.
With the burning sensation of the fire on his face, the burning sensation of tears ready to flow was replaced. When he could no longer hold back his tears, his back turned to Omar.
He didn't need to see this sight. He didn't need to see this face of Ander.
With Omar's weight still in bed, Ander heard a deep sigh. It was like some sort of laughter breath.
He heard Omar cursing at him before getting out of bed. He felt he deserved it to the fullest. He was to blame for everything.
He would do this when there was plenty of opportunity to cry until tomorrow. He would cry until he fell asleep, his tears tired. He would cry quietly so that no one could hear.
So tomorrow, Omar would no longer be at his bedside, his pillow, in his room, at his home. When Ander thought he had lost him completely anymore, he would realize that he was actually not prepared for another possibility.