BL 𝟏

The world used to be a kaleidoscope of color for Leo. Now, it was just shades of grey, occasionally punctuated by the searing white of memory. Five years. Five years since the crash. Five years since the last time he saw Ethan.

The silence in their apartment, once filled with Ethan’s off-key singing and the clatter of his paintbrushes, was a living thing. It pressed in on Leo, a constant reminder of what he’d lost. He traced the outline of a framed photo on the bedside table: Ethan, laughing, his head thrown back, sunlight catching the gold in his hair. Leo’s thumb brushed over the smooth glass, a ghost of a touch.

They had been driving back from their anniversary dinner, high on cheap champagne and the intoxicating promise of forever. Ethan had been teasing him about his terrible parking, and Leo, distracted by the warmth of Ethan’s hand on his thigh, had looked over just as the truck swerved.

The screech of tires, the shattering glass, the metallic tang of blood – it all played on an endless loop in Leo’s mind. He remembered waking in the hospital, his arm in a sling, his head throbbing, asking for Ethan. And then the doctor’s grim face, the hushed tones.

"We couldn't find anyone else at the scene, Mr. Hayes. We believe your passenger was… ejected."

Ejected. The word haunted him. It implied a finality that Leo refused to accept. They hadn't found a body. No remains. Nothing. Just a mangled car and Leo, broken but alive. The police had searched, of course. Exhaustively. They’d concluded Ethan was gone, a tragic casualty. But Leo knew. He felt it in the hollow ache in his chest, in the frantic flutter of hope that never quite died. Ethan was out there. He had to be.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Leo mumbled to the empty space beside him, a ritual he’d kept for years. He swung his legs out of bed, the familiar creak of the floorboards echoing in the stillness. The aroma of stale coffee hung in the air, a ghost of yesterday’s attempt at normalcy. He stumbled into the kitchen, the sunlight streaming through the window doing little to brighten the gloom. He poured himself a mug, black, as bitter as his mornings had become.

He scrolled through his phone, hoping for a miracle, a news article, anything. Nothing. Just the endless stream of a world moving on without him. He stopped at an old photo of him and Ethan, taken on their first trip together to the coast. Ethan had insisted on matching ridiculously bright Hawaiian shirts.

"Come on, Leo! Live a little!" he’d said, pulling Leo into a clumsy embrace. Leo smiled faintly at the memory, a brief flicker of warmth in the desolate landscape of his mind.A sharp rap on the door startled him. He rarely had visitors.

"Leo? You in there?" It was Sarah, Ethan’s older sister, her voice tinged with concern. She’d been his rock, his only consistent link to a past he desperately clung to.

He opened the door, a forced smile on his face. "Hey, Sarah."

"Hey yourself," she said, stepping inside, her eyes immediately scanning the apartment.

"Still a mess, huh?"

"It’s… lived in," Leo countered weakly.

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