Sasha Volkov's Guide to Living and Dying

If the Silence Takes You Then I Hope it Takes Me Too

Authors Note: This one is a little rough because I wrote it fast and messed up the ending, but I still wanted to share. The title is lyrics from Death Cab for Cutie's "Soul Meets Body."

It's been three hours since Sasha started driving, leaving his life in Boston behind. To be honest, he's not too heartbroken about being rid of it, but the alternative isn't particularly better. In the span of about five days, he died, came back to life, agreed to a lifetime of servitude to an eldritch goddess, reunited with his best friend Jessie, and fought off several monsters. That's far too much to cram into a work week. He's only been through about two packs of cigarettes, though, so he thinks he's handling it well.

So that's how Sasha finds himself, scarred and tired, going 25 through an open field with no one else around for miles. He'd be going faster if he weren't so enamored with the gentle waving of the grass along the slopes of the hills. It makes the world feel so much smaller. Jess sleeps quietly in the passenger seat, head propped up against the window. He is inhumanly still, save for the rise and fall of his chest, and he doesn't stir as Sasha turns up the volume on the CD player so he can hear Ben Gibbard sing "Soul Meets Body." The music itself is a nice distraction for all of five seconds, until the subtle itch that comes when Sasha needs a smoke returns in full force. He might go insane if he doesn't get out of the car. Stopping in the middle of open land is probably not the greatest idea, but he's already slowing to a halt. He puts the car in park and looks to his side to see Jess, who still hasn't shifted an inch. Sasha wants to wait for him to wake. He wants to see him with bleary eyes and ruffled hair like he did when they were kids. After seven years apart, he's not sure if he can. Besides, if he doesn't move now he's afraid his legs might start to cramp.

He leaves Jess to rest as he ambles up a nearby hill, pack of cigarettes in hand. The warm September air is a pleasant change from the arctic cold of the car. Jess had insisted on turning the AC all the way up, and Sasha didn't have the energy to say no. Getting outside has breathed new life into him. His limbs aren't quite so sore when he stops at a spot that overlooks the rest of the field, and the headache that's been growing steadily retreats back into obscurity. On top of that, the landscape is gorgeous. This late into the day the sun is setting, and the grass is awash in shades of red and gold. Even the asphalt road seems to glimmer as it meanders off into the distance, disappearing and reappearing over the knolls. As he watches, a light breeze plays with his hair. It's so much longer than Sasha kept it as a teenager. The dark strands now dangle in front of his eyes, obscuring his vision and tickling his nose. He was planning to get it cut, but that seems like it's off the table now. He'd do it himself, but he's not even sure where he could find a pair of scissors.

Resigning himself to a life of split ends, Sasha pops open the pack and slips a cigarette between his teeth. He sticks his hand in his pocket to look for his lighter, but the soft crunch of grass beneath feet pulls his attention away.

"Couldn't you have done this at a gas station or something?" Jess's voice echos from further down the hill. He can only see the man out of the corner of his eye when he comes to stand next to him, but he looks entirely too well-rested for someone who slept in a car for an hour. A small part of him suggests that it's because he's an illusion, a phantom conjured up to see him through whatever mess he's gotten himself into. Except this Jess has white eyes and snakebites, a far cry from the awkward boy of earth tones he once knew. Still, his presence is as familiar as the rhythmic inhale and exhale of breathing.

Sasha hums and directs his focus back to looking for his lighter. "The view wouldn't have been as good there," he replies.

"I didn't know you loved scenery so much."

The light teasing in Jess's tone makes heat rise to Sasha's face. "Cut me some slack," he mutters. "I've lived in a city for the past six years, I don't get to see a lot of rolling hills. Besides, you definitely knew," he pauses as he switches pockets, still searching for his lighter, "Do you remember how many times I made you go stargazing with me?"

He can't see it, but he's certain Jess rolls his eyes. "And do you remember how much time we actually spent looking at stars?"

"Point taken," Sasha huffs. For as hard as he tries, he can't school the smile on his face back into a scowl.

The moment is, unfortunately, ruined when realization crashes down on him like a tidal wave. "Dammit, I forgot my lighter in the car," Sasha sighs, "that's probably for the best." He shoves the pack of cigarettes back into the pocket of his red flannel and turns to Jess, who has turned his face towards the sun. The dying light casts its soft glow over his round features, ethereal and picturesque. Suddenly the phantom theory seems all the more likely. He's far too serene, his eyes closed as he soaks up the last of the day, and it leaves Sasha utterly disarmed. He's not even sure if his heart is still beating. The entire situation is too far-fetched, too impossible to the teenager inside him that is still feeling the pang of losing his best friend, that it makes his brain stop working. He doesn't give it a second thought as he raises his hands to cup Jess's face and shift it towards him.

Jess cracks one eye open, but he doesn't move away. His mouth simply shifts into a thin line. "Is something wrong?" He asks.

That snaps Sasha out of his trance. He wants to move away, dismiss the whole thing and pretend it never happened. But Jess is warm and tangible beneath his fingers, so the most he can manage is a tentative shake of his head and a glance down.
When he looks back up, Jess has closed his eye again. "Oh, come on, Sasha. You don't have to lie," he grumbles. He sounds honest.

"I'm just... making sure you're real." It sounds weird to admit, but what else is he supposed to say?

Jess's reply is unexpected. The words themselves aren't, but the light sarcasm he braces himself to hear isn't present. "And? What's your conclusion?"

"You're such a jerk," Sasha mutters, before he finds his calloused palms pressing further into pale skin. Jess holds his hands there, grip firm and almost demanding. His eyes, now open and unblinking, bore into Sasha's with the desperation of a wild animal backed into a corner and searching for an escape. It makes his pulse quicken and throat dry out. He's not sure where such sudden and visceral distress came from, but he can't stand the thought of letting it hang in the air between them. "But you're real alright," he concedes, both to himself and to Jess. "You can feel my hand, can't you? And the sun, and the wind, and all of those bugs that like to try to fly into your ears. I think that's proof enough."

"That's a little lame," Jess complains, but his face has lightened significantly. Now he speaks through a slight smile, "I get it, though."

"Good."

The sun has all but finished setting by the time their little chat is through. It's gotten colder now that the dark has spilled over the horizon like ink, and Sasha craves the refuge of the car. It would probably be best, too, for them to leave the isolation and exposure of the field behind.

"Let's go," he relents, slowly starting his way back down to the road. It hurts to leave, but at the very least Jess will take his spot in the passenger seat instead of disappearing completely from his life again.