Part Two: 05:01

And so began the best year of my life.

I’ve had so many people’s deaths in my hands before, but to have someone’s life in my hands was a new-found pleasure and privilege.

Since he’d given a whole year of his life to me, I was determined to monopolize it and make sure nothing ended it prematurely. It was a bit of an ordeal at first, since he was prone to putting himself at the precipice of death given half a chance. His sitting so precariously over the edge of that building when we first met should have been indicator enough that he had an indifferent approach to his own mortality.

I stopped killing outside of contracts that year. I didn’t expect that I would, but within the first few weeks I noticed I’d fallen into a mental pattern. Whenever I got the urge to kill, I would think “if I have the choice between killing someone and hanging out with Aevum, of course I’ll choose Aevum” and then I’d go to him.

It seemed he didn’t have much of a life at all before meeting me, with no attachments or obligations, and no place to stay for that matter, so I immediately invited him to live with me. That made everything all the more fun. He showed a bit of reluctance when I offered, and complained that I might get bored of him if he was around me all the time. To that I argued that he should just keep being interesting, so I never get bored, and to his credit he did. But I’m sure he would have been an equal delight to be around if I’d said nothing. That was just his way.

Aevum was such a mysterious man, despite how open and chatty he was. Certain questions he would dance around and certain answers would be lies, but he clearly wanted to share himself with me and I took all I could get, if not a bit more.

No two days that year were the same. We really did make an attempt to do anything and everything, all of it together.

For about three months, the thought of eventually getting to kill him just made me horny as hell. I want to make it clear that the idea and act of killing never gave me any sexual gratification before him. I always had an artistic appreciation for the craft of killing, nothing more, but all of a sudden it excited me so much it was almost embarrassing. I reasoned that it must just be like how some people get boners looking at the Mona Lisa.

But, after those three months, the thought of killing him started to feel different. It was more melancholic, and left a bittersweet taste lingering in my mouth until the next time he kissed me and made me forget about any feeling but the bliss of his presence.

The “dates” started out as a half-joke. I would wine and dine him, or he would take me on long winding walks through the woods, or we would cook for each other and snuggle up on the settee with some RomCom playing in the background as we made out like sexually frustrated teenagers. The dates became more serious the day he called me his boyfriend, and then more so still on the day he told me he loved me.

This was on the seventh month.

I can’t begin to explain how that made me feel. It was as though all my feelings and frustrations were being brought to a boil for months, only to suddenly fall flat with clap cold and calm clarity when I realised I was in love with him as well.

That realisation compelled me to show him off. I even took him along with me on several contract killings, simply so I could tell the targets that he was my boyfriend and we were in love.

One instance in particular of me doing that made my target damn near kill himself with the envy. He was a forty-something businessman on his way to propose to his twenty-something girlfriend of two months. Guy was loaded, so the girl might have been better off marrying before asking me to kill him, but seemed as though she was so disgusted when she saw he’d bought a ring that she paid extra for me to kill him that night.

Aevum and I almost always wore matching outfits at that point in our relationship, and I would hold his cold little hands as often as possible. The man asked if we were a couple, and congratulated us, and then happily explained that he was on his way to propose, telling us each to think about popping the question since “time is short”.

Aevum was uncharacteristically angry when he said that. ”‘Till death do us part’ is such a cheap out. If you really loved someone then why would you end it with death? What kind of shallow horseshit is that?” he fumed, throwing his hands aggressively in the air. There was some strength unbefitting of his skinny arms, and I guess I’d call that strength ‘blind rage’, as he threw the man to the floor and snatched away the engagement ring in his pocket.

“Hey, Aev, wait, that’s my job-” I said in a mild panic, worried he’d kill the guy.

“And speaking of shallow horseshit!” Aevum threw the ring box to the side. “Your girlfriend hired my boyfriend to kill you!” Thank god he wasn’t going to take my kill I thought, suddenly much calmer, but still unsure why my usually happy-go-lucky boyfriend was now steaming with fury. “You don’t know the first thing about relationships and now you’re not even going to die alone, you’re going to die next to something you could never be: a happy couple!”

The guy completely broke down emotionally and even took out a folding knife to try and finish himself, so I quickly killed him before he had the chance. I then picked up Aevum under his arms and placed a kiss on his head. “Feel better?” I asked him.

“Yeah…” I gave him a tight embrace, kissing and nibbling his ears until he finally started laughing again and embraced me back. “Oh wait, let me go real quick,” he requested. I released him and he trotted over to where he’d thrown the man’s engagement ring.

“What’re you gonna do with that?” I asked.

“It looked really nice, actually. Figured this is like grave robbing but with less steps,” he answered with a smile.

Thankfully whenever I took him to contracts after that he always remained happy and calm, so I just got more curious about what set him off that time. But being able to bring your lover to work was so much fun that I forgot all about that incident fairly soon.

Aevum and I were practically joined at the hip, and I had “smitten” written all over my face, according to a regular client.

“Just don’t let it affect ya work,” he warned me. “Just cause ya got yourself a young lover don’t mean I’m payin’ double, or funding yous’s honeymoon, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I waved a hand. “But your last cheque did pay for this cute little leather number I slipped him into, so thanks for that,” I said slyly, winking.

“He actually spent it on His&His embroidered pillowcases,” Aevum corrected as he walked in and gave me a playful slap on the ass. “And nipple clamps,” he added.

“Right, that’s it, didn’t need to know that, I’m leaving,” my contractor raved as he stormed out the door. I pinched Aevum’s cheek.

“Nipple clamps? Really?” I tried to scorn but the smile on my face was all but permanent round this minx.

“You brought up leather,” he countered, ginning devilishly.

I’d actually spent most of the last pay on a weekend trip for us to visit my parents.

They’re dead, naturally, so we were visiting their graves.

I told Aevum, when he asked how long I’d been killing, that I started before I was born. He thought I was joking, but it was half true. There were complications when my mother was pregnant, and she died because of it. While I was being removed from her already dead body, my father killed himself. Both parents dying before I was born clearly had a lot of influence on the life I lead. That said, I feel like I have a good relationship with them. I visit their graves on holidays and birthdays, I’m always very open with them about what’s going on in my life, and they never pass judgement. Because, obviously, they’re dead.

“This is them!” I announced when we reached the modest headstones. “Mum, dad, this is Aevum, my boyfriend. He’s come to ask for your blessing.” I gave him a playful push and smiled at his nervous look.

“Uh, hello, sir, ma’am, please let me continue to see your son. I promise to look after him!” Aveum told the headstones earnestly, bowing. I didn’t know if he thought I believed their ghosts were watching, if he thought that himself, or if he was just doing a very convincing job of teasing me, but it felt nice.

It’s strange how a family can be two chiseled slabs of granite and a man you’ll be killing in a few months, but that’s just what this life can do to you.

We stayed with my parents for a long time, and told them about how we met. I filled in Aevum with all that I’d been told about my parents, and about my relationship with them. I told him parts of my childhood, but said that if I talked about it for too long then my mum would cry. He nodded like he understood completely and didn’t pry.

When I asked if I could ever meet his family he looked up at the sky for a long quiet moment. “Hopefully not anytime soon…” he said quietly.

When we were walking back to the hotel I booked for us he seemed in better spirits. “When you kill me, are you going to give me a grave like theirs? Can you make it next to them?” I ignored the sharp pain in my heart at remembering our promise and laughed instead.

“You want to spend eternity next to your in-laws? Are you crazy?” I joked.

“In-laws…” he repeated under his breath with a little smile. “Why, you worried they’ll tell me embarrassing things about you? Or that I’ll tell them that you still suck your thumb?”

“ONE TIME I did that, okay? One time!”

We visited my parents once more that year, on my birthday. It was a very warm and happy time, but the shadow of inevitably loomed in the distance.

This would all be ending very soon.

The last month of our year together. I was switching between doing my best to enjoy the limited time and spiralling into a panic about it. Aevum never once seemed nervous or regretful that he would be dying soon.

I thought “maybe he just doesn’t like me that much?” but I beat that thought away with a stick as soon as it came. Of course he liked me. That’s why he entrusted a year to me, and has faith that I’ll be able to keep my promise and kill him. No matter what happens. If I broke that promise then he would hate me. It’s better to kill him than to betray him, right?

But, fuck, I really didn’t want to have to kill him.

“Do you know how you’re going to kill me?” he asked two weeks before the due date, totally spoiling our post-coital bliss.

“Yeah,” I answered, sliding a hand up and down his forearm. “Should I tell you? Or do you want to be surprised?”

“Tell me! Tell me!” he pleaded excitedly, practically wagging his tail like a puppy.

“I’m going to strangle you.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Why not use your knife?”

“I want to be touching you, right to the end.” His cheeks flushed and he started wiggling around and nuzzling into me.

“You’re so romantic, Jack! What did I do to deserve you?”

“You gave yourself to me, I guess. And you have a cute face,” I teased, but it was basically the truth. We kissed tenderly and made love rampantly.

And then, eventually but also instantly, it was the day.

“Happy Anniversary, Babe,” a very sleepy Aevum greeted me in the morning. “Half expected you’d do it in my sleep!” he called as he walked into the bathroom.

“No way!” I disregarded. “I made pancakes, I’m not enough of a nice guy to kill you before you have to suffer through eating them. I didn’t even look for a recipe, so prepare yourself.”

“Oh, so it’s death by food poisoning, I see your game!” We laughed. “As last meals go, I don’t really think I’d ask for anything else. Well, maybe rat poison, since it would taste better.”

“Hey! That was so sweet until the end!”

I was infinitely thankful we could still talk and joke like we had for the last 365 days. I decided that I would follow through with my promise and I would not let any sadness or regret ruin our final moments together.

After we ate, or tried to, we dressed in matching outfits like usual and got in the car.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“Well, it wouldn’t be a proper anniversary if we didn’t go to the place we had our first kiss.”

By the time we got to the roof of the apartment complex it was already night fall.

I took out two cigarettes.

We smoked the whole year, but seeing him in that place, inhaling like a pro, not coughing once, washed me with an empty nostalgic feeling. He even tried to blow some smoke rings, but the wind wisped them away. I laughed at that, but there was a lump in my throat all the while.

After we finished I silently took his hand, and lead him to the edge. We sat together and I put him on my lap so we both faced the streets below.

The view really was amazing from up here. I hardly noticed the first time.

Some part of my heart knew that if I waited until the sun rose, and saw it light his eyelashes like golden tinsel once again, that I wouldn’t be able to do this.

I placed my hands on his neck, and he definitely must have felt them tremble.

“You’re warm,” he commented.

“No, you’re just cold,” I responded, my eyes welling up. I swallowed and swallowed but my throat wouldn’t clear. I blinked and blinked but the tears wouldn’t stop.

I started to tighten my grip.

I don’t think I’ve ever been nice, but right then I became cruel. I wanted to drag this out by choking him slowly, even though I had enough strength to crush his windpipe near instantly, and even though I knew this would hurt him much more.

Gradually I tightened the hold, and for a long time he didn’t move aside from slowly stroking my thigh, like he was trying to sooth me.

And then, quite suddenly, his hand left my thigh and went to my wrists. He was tapping me.

No matter what I reminded myself. And kept reminding myself even when those cold little hands clawed into my skin and tore at my arms as he struggled and kicked and writhed to get out of my hold.

It didn’t feel anything like I thought it would a year ago. I got no pleasure from it.

I cried hard but tightened once again.

His body went limp, and I forced myself to keep going for ten more minutes.

My eyes were burning and soundless screams scratched at my throat.

Once he was dead I finally let go of his neck, but couldn’t let go of him. I held his small body tightly to my own, and after I regained the strength in my legs I stood up and carried him away.

“I’m, uh, still a bit against it, but I’ll bury you next to my parents,” I told his body on the drive back, my voice trembling so much that the words were mostly incoherent.

Since I already arranged this, there was a hole waiting for him. No coffin, since he thought they were a waste of money, but we got him a matching headstone. There was one for me too, but that was in storage for the time being.

I buried him quickly, and left in a cowardly hurry because I needed time to process.

On the drive home I managed to replay the highlights of our year, and the empty parts of me refilled with our memories. It really wasn’t that sad of a story, after all. It was a wonderful story, a wonderful year. An amazing man.

I walked inside our house feeling refreshed.

There was an envelope on his side of the bed. My heart raced anxiously, but I had a good feeling about what it might be saying. He was pretty sentimental, to be honest.

I opened it, and that “good feeling” collapsed like the veil over my eyes.

“Hey, Jack! Don’t worry, I’m not actually angry or anything. I knew you wouldn’t be able to do it, so I couldn’t help teasing you, but I’m happy really. Seems that a year wasn’t long enough for me, after all. And until death won’t be long enough either. This is selfish, but I don’t think you’ll mind since I’m always asking selfish things of you. I want an eternity together. I left something for you inside your favourite mug in the cupboard, so go get that, and I’ll meet you on top of the apartments at 5am. Love you”

I sprinted to the cupboard and shatter half the ceramics as I dove for the small box in my mug.

“No, no,” I stammered. Inside the box was the ring he’d taken from that forty-something contract.

I leapt back into the car and tore back to the apparents, sprinting up to the roof.

The sun started to rise over the half an hour I stood there, not knowing what the hell I was waiting for.

I looked at my watch.

05:01