Eggplants.

“When I invited you over to help with the furniture, I certainly didn’t expect to get a free meal out of it aswell!”, Jarrod laughed a little nervously, scratching his left arm contemplating if he could use it to help in any way.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, cooking is just a passion of mine. I do it whenever I need to rearrange my mind. Well… that and running.”

“I’ve heard you finished a halfmarathon recently!”

“Yeah”, Sirius didn’t move his eyes from the onions, chopping in a monotone rhythm, “but only because I took the wrong turn. Wanted to complete the marathon, ended up at the wrong finish line.” - A quiet chuckle snuck from between his teeth, escaping through the fume hood. He pushed the little onion cubes aside with the back of his knife and reached for an eggplant. “So… none of your family members could get around to help you move? Do they not live nearby?”

Jarrod hesitated for a moment, inspecting the three red lines his nails had left on his forearm. “Well, uh, we don’t really...”, now he started scratching his head instead, “talk that much.”

“I see.”

Thin slices of eggplant started to stack up at the edge of the wooden cutting board. Jarrod watched Sirius’ shoulderblades moving up and down, he seemed fully invested in the purple vegetable. For what must have felt like seconds to him, but eternities to Jarrod, the only sound lingering in the tiny kitchen was the metal blade stomping against the wood.

“My family is very religious!”, Jarrod finally explained as if he had been asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“They… don’t really approve of my… um… lifestyle.” The phrase almost sounded like a question. The only answer he would get out of Sirius though was a neatly stacked eggplant tower, shimmering in the dim light of the dusty doily lamp. Jarrod pushed another inch further: “especially my father.”

“Do you have any sour cream?”

“He wouldn’t even pick up the phone if I called him from my death bed.”

Without turning around, Sirius headed towards the fridge, revealing a squeaking noise as he opened the door. “Fathers, right?”, he grunted.

Jarrods eyes stuck to the other man’s impossibly white shirt as he carried a little cup of sour cream back to his vegetables, sniffing it before dumping it into the pot with a shrug. He took a deep breath, made a step forward, froze for another second, then finally released the words: “We haven’t had any contact in years, actually. Last time we spoke, he told me to never set foot under his roof again. Well, at least not until I was… well… cured.” His stare drilled into Sirius’ back as if he wanted to force a reaction out of him, who had picked up a wooden spoon and, completely entranced by his task, started stirring the sizzling contents of the pot. The stinging smell of frying onions spread through the room, as Sirius finally inquired, more out of courtesy than genuine interest: “Cured? You’re contagious or something?”

Another two steps later, Jarrod was now standing in arm’s reach of that man’s back. It might have also been the sight of his triceps peeking out from under the seams of his short sleeves, or the hot steam ascending from the stove, but most likely it was the words Jarrod was about to phrase that suddenly made him break a sweat: “Sirius, I… I’m not really… I mean I...”, he inhaled sharply: “I’m gay.”

The dull scraping of the wood against the metal pots’ bottom was all you could hear for a moment. Jarrod could feel the blood retracting from his extremities as Sirius turned to the cuttingboard again, picking up the knife and an oddly shaped green bell pepper. Chop-chop, the board whispered. Sirius remained silent.

“Do you have, uh… anything to say about this, maybe?”, quite possibly Jarrod had never spoken this quietly before in his life.

Without batting an eye, Sirius replied: “I’m the last person to judge others for their sexual preferences.”

A smile shot into Jarrod’s face as he exhaled in relief, he could feel the room spinning around him as he stretched his fingers towards his friend: “Oh god this is just… I just couldn’t tell if you were… Oh god Sirius I’m so happy you understand!”, and ecstatically trembling he wrapped his arms around Sirius’ chest in one swift motion, placing his left hand on the collarbone and the right one on his palpable abdominal muscles, slowly gliding down. All his worries had been unsubstantiated, that stoic man who would never let anyone look behind his one-sided grin had felt just like him all along!

Sirius froze in his position, the knife halfway buried in the vegetable. For a brief second he held his breath, while his eyes jumped up, then down again, then something broke loose. Chupp, a bubble popped in the pot.

“Don’t touch me!!”, he yelled swinging around, it was a single sweep that pushed back the man behind him, and brought Sirius’ right arm around his chest in a forceful half-circle. The knife slid through Jarrod’s throat with full momentum and a muffled noise, as the skin ripped open and a streak of blood splattered across the kitchen countertop. Jarrod’s eyes gaped wide open as he tumbled backwards, gasping confusedly, then reaching for his throat with both hands, before collapsing to the ground. Red was squirting through his fingers as he was twitching on his back, with his legs jerking around in panicked convulsions. He could hear himself wheeze and gargle in the futile effort to catch his breath, dug his fingers deeper into the wound that was gushing out his life in the rhythm of his racing pulse. Desperate in his terror he looked up to Sirius, who was standing dead still in a moment of mental dislocation. Then he made a slow step, not a single motion on his face.

He could see Jarrod’s muscles cramping, his eyes flickering, then one bloody hand moving away from the throat and stretching into Sirius’ direction, his lips silently forming the words - help me - before his jaws tensed up into a contorted grimace. Sirius watched the trembling take over Jarrod’s entire body. Everytime he thought this little fountain would spurt out of the wound for the last time, another, slightly smaller one followed. The amount of blood that can run through such a fragile body, he thought, is actually quite astounding. Then he carefully stepped over it, placing one foot on each side of Jarrod’s chest, before getting on his knees and finally sitting down on the shaking ribcage. The knife felt light in his right hand, that had become slippery from the blood. Slowly, almost ceremoniously, he also placed his left hand on the end of the handle to ensure a tight grip.

“I’ve always wanted to know how that feels”, he muttered, catching Jarrod’s eyes with his.

Then he raised his arms, took a deep breath, and pushed down. The noise that broke free from Jarrod’s throat as the blade penetrated his solarplexus sounded like nothing Sirius had ever heard before. It was as if he could see those deep black pupils crackle like laminated glass. The dark red, almost purple colored face showed one last spasm in the corner of the wide opened mouth. Then Jarrods’ hands slipped away to the side, revealing the clean rift that separated his past from his future. The fountain had stopped. Jarrod laid still.

Sirius’ heartbeat was hammering in his ears as he looked down on his hands, still clenching the handle of the knife. The muscles in his forearms were vibrating just so slightly, his fingers felt numb. Not a single tangible thought hushed through his mind. The sizzling sound of the pot pushed its way back into his perception, as if someone was slowly turning up the radio, until he felt it roaring in his head, violently shaking his eardrums. He got on his feet, tumbling, struggling to find his balance, then reaching back and turning off the stove without ever taking his eyes off the body stretched out in front of him. The blood spread calmly, a dark red puddle, ripped open by Sirius’ unsteady footprints. The room was quiet. Waiting.

Finally Sirius turned around, his movements slow but firm. He reached for the handle on the fridge’s door, leaning his weight into it for a brief moment, then pulling it open and feeling the cool air flow over his skin. He bowed forwards, examining what Jarrod had left behind. Eggs, yoghurt, a piece of smelly cheese. More sour cream. A can of alcohol free beer.

He grabbed a half-empty milk carton and didn’t bother to close the door behind him. With slurping steps he crossed the room to inspect the old bookshelf that almost touched the ceiling. All of the books had already been removed and stacked into plain brown cardboard boxes. He could still read the titles of the ones on top. A chemistry book from university laying right next to a self help book for people who felt too much guilt.

“Who are you, Jarrod?”, Sirius murmured – as he stretched out his arm to run his fingers through the box with records, organized by color. He blindly pulled out one from the middle, and put it in the player before taking a look at the packaging. The Ramones, it said.

As he placed the needle on the black disc, a sharp guitar tore through the apartment. The sound bounced from the walls and flooded the room faster than Sirius could process what was happening, drowning him in vibrations and the aggressive pounding of the drums. He fell a step back, trying to catch his breath, then just stood there listening in awe for a few lines, before turning around on his heel and heading towards the dorm, his steps becoming more fierce as the music started to reach around his chest and pull him forwards. Jarrod’s bedsheets were folded neatly, another box with two little potted plants blocked the way into the room. Carefully Sirius took a step over it, glancing around the narrow walls dressed in beige papers. A painting of the virgin Mary still hung in the corner to his right, collecting dust. He approached the bed, opening the wooden drawer of the nightstand. It revealed to him the black binding of the holy Bible – lovingly placed right next to a Walther.

“Funny bastard”, Sirius grunted. He ran his Fingers over the cold metal, conciously feeling the attention to detail that had went into crafting the piece, before picking it up and sliding it under the back of his pants. A wrinkled shirt was hanging over a chair right next to the bed, the seating surface holding a belt, some keys and a wallet. Sirius picked up the latter, tossing it up a few inches before catching it again, testing it’s weight. Then he sweeped the other items off the chair onto the floor using his forearm, sat down facing the door and stared at his hands. He took a sip out of the milk carton, exhaled audibly, turned the little envelope made from brown leather around, inspecting it from all sides, before finally opening it with his left hand, placing it on his lap and pulling out the ID.

Jarrod Shepherd.

Does have a nice ring to it, he thought. In the background, the Ramones’ indistinguishable noises slowly started to form into words, like nebula agglomerating into a compact cloud and dripping into Sirius’ mind.

I don’t wanna be buried, Joey insisted.

Sirius’ eyes burned into the ID.

In a pet sematary.

The words blurred under the pressure of his stare.

I don’t wanna live my life again.

Sirius gasped. He jumped up and headed straight back to the kitchen, dropping the open milk carton on the floor, pushing the ID into his back pocket, almost falling over the plant box, circumventing the slippery red puddle, hastily picking up the phone. His fingers flew across the dial pad.

Tooot, the phone asked.

“Yea?”, Moses replied.

“Moses, it’s me.” He knew he would recognize him by the voice. “Hey uh, can you do me a favor? I’m over at Jarrod’s place, we were about to get his furniture into the moving van.”

“Jarrod’s?” You could hear Moses’ eyes rolling through the phone.

“I have a piece of furniture here that is quite heavy, quite bulky, that needs to be moved quickly.”

Moses hesitated for a few seconds. “Why are you calling me?”

Sirius’ head was empty, the words were just flowing out of his mouth. “Because last time you were the one who needed my help with… moving furniture.”

The line was completely quiet. The record squeaked. Just when Sirius thought Moses had hung up, he could hear his friend stating: “I’m coming.”

His heart recovered it’s beat. The next song started playing.

“Should I bring anything with me?”

“Well, I have a van here… and a big rug...”

“To prevent scratches on the wood!”, Moses interrupted.

“Sure!”, Sirius bit his tongue. He could suddenly feel his full strength rushing back into his limbs, the adrenalin boiling in his veins.

“Do I hear the Ramones?”, it sounded like a little giggle.

“Just… hurry.”

He slammed the phone. Peeking over his shoulder, he could see Jarrod’s contorted body staring at the ceiling. We can make this work, Sirius told himself, forming the words with his lips but devoid of any sound. We can make this work.

Just as he was about to take a deep breath in mental preparation, a stinging noise pierced through the apartment. Sirius froze, reaching for his mind. It was the doorbell.

It takes Moses at least ten minutes to get here, he combined. His neck felt ice cold all of a sudden.

“Hello?”, a muffled voice soaked through the door. Sirius held his breath.

They heard you. A neighbour heard you. They probably called the police.

“Hello? Jarrod?”

Someone is looking for him. They’re gonna catch you red handed. There is no way you’re gonna get out of this. Your life is over.

You went to university for nothing. You’re never gonna own that house you’ve always wanted. You’re never gonna sell the drug you created. You’re never gonna find that woman you’ve always longed for. You’re never gonna hold a son in your arms.

“Jarrod, Sirius, are you there? Sorry I’m a little late! I brought the dolly!”

“Doc!”, Sirius exclaimed without thinking, as his brain grasped the voice. “Jesus Christ!”

He had completely forgotten about the fact Jarrod had invited Dominic aswell. Looking down at himself, he realised his arms, hands and the entirety of his clothes were covered in blood – so was everything he had touched over the course of the last minutes. The fridge door was still open. The knife still stuck in Jarrod’s chest. A little pool of milk was bordering the kitchen entrance. There was only one possible way to deal with the situation: a frontal crash.

“Doc, are you alone?”, he asked through the door, placing his hand on the handle.

“Sirius, is that you? Are you gonna let me in or what?”

“Doc, I could really need your help with something in here, but I need to know if you came here alone.”

“I’m alone Sirius and I’m about to piss myself, so if you could please open that door for me now, I would really appreciate it.”

Sirius slowly pressed down the handle, pulling the door open just a few inches. As soon as he peeked through the gap, Dominic's face muscles dropped. “What happened to you?!”

“Sshhh, get in here, get in!”, he pulled his friend through the door, quickly shutting it behind them. For a second they stood right in front of each other, just a thin slice of air between their faces, Sirius’ hands on Dominic’s wrists. His eyes disbeliefingly wandered down the path of blood from the smeared face over the soaked shirt to the almost still dripping fingertips. Then they glid to the side, discovering what had been waiting for him stretched out on the floor. Docs pupils popped open, he stumbled a step back. Not a single sound escaped his mouth. Then his eyes went back to Sirius, groping him, tying him up. What have you done, they asked. The other pair of eyes didn’t reply. Ripping his right hand out of Sirius’ grip, Doc reached back for the door handle, without moving his eyes away. As Sirius heard the screeching of the handle being pressed down again, something shook him awake. He snapped out of the moment, forcefully hitting his palm against the door right next to Dominic’s head, pushing it closed, staring down at the horrified young man.

“Don’t”, he just whispered.

“Why, Sirius?” Doc’s voice was almost imperceptible, hiding in the back of his throat. A tear was about to sneak down his face.

“I had to.” It was the most fitting explanation that touched his mind.

“Do you even… do you...”, Dominic swallowed, “You have no idea what you’ve done.”

“I know you liked him, Doc.” He suddenly noticed the music had stopped playing, and wondered when that had happened.

“Why would you do that?” - The question stuck to his lips.

“I might explain it to you one day. And you might or might not understand. And you might or might not need to understand. All you need to know right now is that… I need you right now.” - his face moved another inch closer - “Just like you needed us that one night. “

For a moment he wasn’t even sure if Dominic had heard him. He stared right through his head, as if he was looking to find an answer in the back of Sirius’ skull. The hand still pressing down the handle of the door. Both men jumped back startled as it was suddenly pushed open.

“Okay this better be ---”, Moses stopped himself, assessing the situation.

He looked at Sirius. He looked at Jarrod. He looked at Sirius.

He burst into laughter.

“Oh Jesus!”, he struggled to catch his breath, “that sure as hell defies my expectations!”

Sirius gawked at him in surprise. Doc’s face switched to bright red. “You think this is funny?! Is this some kind of joke to you?!”

Still cackling Moses swiped a strand of hair out of his face. “Well sorry to interrupt your little threesome”, he entered the room, pulling the door shut behind himself, while carrying a big, heavy looking plastic bag, “I just thought I should come here as quickly as possible.”

He dropped the bag on the floor with a thump, kneeling down right next to the body. Without a trace of hesitation he poked the bloody cheek with his index finger, as if he was trying to wake the man up. Then he looked at the knife and snorted. “Fuck, man”, and with a bright lightning of fascination shooting through his eyes he pointed at it, sticking out of the still wet chest, “you went straight through the sternum!”

Now Doc’s face turned white again, he fell back against the wall, desperate for support. He may have been about to faint as Moses solemnly let his hand glide into the gaping tear in Jarrod’s throat, as if he was looking for something inside it, something he could only find there.

Sirius coughed. “Look, I know this is all really sudden and stuff but… I thought if we all work together, we can get this done just as quickly and smoothly as last time ---”

“Last time!”, Dominic shrieked, “Do you even listen to yourself?! I can’t believe this is just ---”, he hit his palms against the sides of his head, “--- happening! I’m twentyone for christ’s sake! How can this be the second time I’m in this situation?!”

Moses and Sirius looked at each other. An unspoken question hovering between their minds, an invisible connection drawing them together. Then, an answer.

Moses slowly returned to his feet. “Doc”, and like someone had hit a switch, his voice was back to it’s normal, deep, unreadable state, “I don’t know exactly what the two of you had ---”, his fingers were wagging between Jarrod and Doc, “going on, and frankly, I really don’t want to know”, and his upper lip involuntarily twitched a little, “but I can tell you this: You, sweetheart”, now pointing at the mortified man, “you owe us. You owe us big time. We helped getting rid of your problem, now you help getting rid of”, and his lip twitched again, “this!”

As Doc looked over to Sirius, perhaps still holding onto a slight glimpse of hope, all he could see was a determined nod. Closing his eyes in defeat he slid down the wall, landing in a crouch, his elbows resting on the knees. His voice sounded thin, exhausted: “And how do you intend to pull this off? It’s a completely different situation this time.”

Of course Sirius already had an answer in his back pocket: “No, we just do the same thing. We already know it works. Nobody found that girl. We dig him up in the same spot and let nature do the dirty work.”

“Sirius!”, now Doc’s voice became sharper, “Don’t you see this? This is not some random dead hooker! People will be looking for him. Phone calls can be traced back to us. Someone will start asking questions. This is a goddamn mess!”

“No!”, Sirius interjected, gesturing excitedly, “this is fucking perfect! This is like ---” and he raised his arms up in a dramatic motion, “divine intervention! This is the best damn part about it, hear me out! He doesn’t have a caring family. You should know that, he just wouldn’t shut up about it. They’d never call him, plus he was about to move to Washington! Nobody will be looking for him here, everyone knows he was about to leave. He just ---”

“That’s not enough, Sirius! What about bills, insurances, a person can’t just vanish, someone will have to take care of this!”

A wavering bubble of silence floated between their lips, appearing sligthly bigger as it might have actually been after Docs loud words. Sirius watched it shimmer in the dull light. Then he popped it with his tongue: “I will.”

Moses rose his brows in surprise. Dominic shot back up to his feet. “You… what?!”

Taking a deep, well calculated breath, Sirius pulled back his shoulders and meaningfully lifted his chin. He stood right between his friends, tall, speaking slowly, embracing every word: “I will move to Washington in his place. I’ll live in his apartment and pay his bills. We’ll all go there together now. The crazy dream we never dared to fully think through? We’ll shape it into matter now. We will take from this world what we can get. I will take the chances I’ve never had. From now on ---”, and there it was again, that little one-sided grin, growing firm in his face, as he reached in his pocket to reveal the ID, relishing the way its corners dug into his fingertips, “you will call me Jarrod Shepherd.”