TeenDad2: It’s been a while, and we were worried. Glit said that you went home
LoveHarley: Yeah, I did.
Gulls cawed in the distance. One swooped down at the other, and for a while they tussled over a crab. The ocean air swept through his hair and found its way into the sleeves of his linen shirt, causing it to billow and flap. Harlow had always loved the smell of the ocean—it reminded him of times spent walking down the boardwalk hand in hand with Emerson, the sun on their shoulders and laughter in their hearts. He’d clung to memories like those while serving overseas, camped out in hostile territory, unsure if the next breath would be his last. The positive energy they’d created together had kept him going through endless deployments and months spent isolated from his family. It was the same positive energy he tapped into when he spoke to the Single Dads, his screen name a constant reminder.
Love, Harley.
The last words he’d ever written to Emerson, the conclusion to a letter drafted during what would become his final deployment—and the last words Emerson had ever read from him.
Love, Harley.
A reminder of better, brighter days when the world had been kinder, and their tiny team had been whole. For the last week, he’d found something just as bright and promising, only to have it stripped away again.
No tomorrow was certain. Hour to hour, the future could change. Harlow looked out over the ocean at the retreating tide and wondered, when it returned, what marvels and disappointments it would bring with it.
TeenDad2: I’m really bummed that I didn’t get to meet Simon :(
GlitterDoctor: Imagine a really skinny stick with geeky glasses and brown-red hair who stares at his shoes a lot, blushes over the smallest things, and mumbles. Although lately he’s been wearing contacts, so you know, glasses optional.
GlitterDoctor: Also, are we unconcerned over xV’s sudden passing? What happened?
xVerity: Sorry, Isaac got my phone. I’m at home today. Someone called in last minute and they couldn’t send a replacement out in time, so I’ve got the morning off. I’ll be heading in this afternoon
GlitterDoctor: lol me too
KnotMyProblem: Good to know we haven’t lost you, xV. If youhadpassed, you would’ve been pleased to know that this time, TD wouldn’t have been in charge of your eulogy. It was a toss-up between Gwynn and Harley, and I’m pretty sure Gwynn would have bit the bullet and done it like a true gentleman-sir
Gwynning: Are you trying to sweet talk me into always picking the eulogy, Knot?
KnotMyProblem: Maaaaybe…
The sliding door leading to the patio opened. Footsteps crossed the smooth stone finish. Evie. Harlow didn’t turn to face her, looking instead at the ocean. If he kept himself distracted, he could pull himself back together enough to look happy for her.
There were brighter days ahead. His heart had been through hell and back, and it had survived—it could survive this, too. Thousands of miles away, Simon was still alive—living, breathing, and recovering from the injustice done to him. Their goodbye wasn’t meant to last forever. No matter what it took, Harlow would figure out a way to bring him home.
Home, where Simon’s eyes would put the ocean to shame, and the sun would glisten in his hair. What would he look like with a tan? Would the freckles across the bridge of his nose darken? Harlow smiled.
His spirits refreshed, he was ready to see Evie.
“Hey, kiddo,” Harlow said. He kept his gaze on the water, not wanting to seem unnatural. “You have a good nap?”
The footsteps stopped just short of Harlow’s right shoulder. A hand brushed along Harlow’s hip and came to rest on the small of his back. A chill ran down Harlow’s spine.
It wasn’t Evie.
It was—
“Hey, H,” Simon whispered, his voice hoarse with excitement and unshed tears of joy. “Surprise.”
The bottom dropped out of Harlow’s stomach at the same time that his heart filled with helium, swelling so big, he thought it might lift him up and carry him away. Startled, he turned his head to confirm what his ears had heard. He hadn’t been mistaken—Simon, hair more like fire than like copper in bright sunlight, stood at his side. The melancholic uncertainty that so often bogged down his spirit was gone, and in its place shone happiness like Harlow had never seen from him before.
“Simon?” Harlow asked. His own voice was hoarse. He turned to face Simon in full, tears welling in his eyes. “You’re… you’re here?How?”
“Jayne and your friends arranged it.” Tears forged trails down Simon’s cheeks, but he smiled. God, did he smile. Harlow wanted to kiss him, to taste the expression, to internalize it forever. “They’re… they’re going to help Jayne around the house. They’re going to look after him. All they wanted to do was to make you happy, and so…” Simon laughed. It was the same timid, wheezy laugh that Harlow had fallen in love with—the same one he thought he wouldn’t hear again for months. “So here I am.”
“Simon.” Hands trembling, tears falling freely, Harlow pulled Simon to his chest and held him tight, careful of his nose. “Oh god, Simon. How long? How long are you here?”
“Um…” Simon held him back, so small and fragile, but more resilient than many men Harlow had met prior. He would keep Simon safe for now, for tomorrow, and for the rest of time. “Well… I mean, as long as you want me to be here. I thought that maybe it’d be like… a permanent thing.”
