Those Three Little Words

You’re ready for this. At least as ready as you’ll ever be. Tseng offered to help but you declined. This is something you need to do on you own.

You clear off the top part first. The stapler you broke when trying to staple a report together, who knew there was a limit as to how many papers you could do at a time? The coffee mug you bought him for his birthday, ‘World’s Greatest Lover’ in large red lettering. You know it embarrassed him to receive it; of course the company party might not have been the best time to hand it to him. But he used it. Every damn day. A few other things that clutter his desktop go into a box.

The draws are next, most of them hold mundane things, envelopes, paper, pens, stupid office shit that he collected in mass because you never kept any at your own desk. Your desk held the important stuff, like lube and gum.

You sit in his chair one last time, because whether people understand or not, it’s going too. You think about that last time you sat in this chair and shudder at the memory. He hadn’t even finished his morning coffee and you were already making passes at him. What started off as a sneak attack blow job from under the desk ended with mind blowing chair sex that left you weak kneed and breathless. You sigh when you open your eyes because that’s all it is now. A memory.

You open the last draw and you suck in a breath. You can feel your hands shaking when you reach in and pull out a pair of shades. The dark lenses reflecting off the light, the metal frames cool to the touch. They were so him and when you see the smudged lenses he crack a worn out smile because you remember why he left them in the office.

He wouldn’t pay attention to you, he had to finish the report for Tseng because he was leaving in a day for the fateful mission that would be his last. You kept trying to distract him and he kept making promises of pain if you didn’t sit back down and do your own paperwork. So you licked each lens, one right after another.

He was so shocked that you couldn’t help it. You laughed at him as he grumbled and put them in the draw only to pull out another pair from gods knows where. He was kind enough to give you a five minute head start.
These you pocket. You don’t know what you’ll do with them really. You just know they can’t be kept in a box, because they were so much apart of Rude that you want them with you.

So you pack what’s left in the one box and you are suddenly a little angry. An entire career, an entire lifetime…a single partnership and it only filled a box. He deserved his own damn warehouse.

You push in the chair, pat your pocket once and sigh because this is it. The end you never wanted, but always feared. You leave the office without a backwards glance because you still have one more stop before it’s done.

Just like the single box you think the place they buried Rude is lacking. There isn’t anything to let the world know that the man was more than just a man. A single stone and a few dates seem so cold. You know where ever he is, it’s a better place and someday if you’re lucky you’ll see him again.

You talk to him and tell him all the things you ever wanted to say but never had the courage too. What he meant to you, how he deserved so much more and when you saw him again in the Lifestream you were gonna kick his sorry ass. But more importantly you tell him what you should have told him all along.

I love you.