His Soul to Take by C.M. Torrens Page A

couldn't breathe. He tried to get a breath but no air filled his lungs, his vision faded, and he heard voices grow distant. Machines beeped and he tried to come back, he wanted to see Simon. To touch him. Hold him again before he died. Thought evaporated again, fading to black.
    * * * *
    He had given Robert the day and night to calm down, hoping they could talk, but after several knocks, Simon wrapped his hand around the door knob and willed it open.
    The door swung forward to an empty room. Morning light filtered through the window, but the room lacked life. The apartment hung heavy with emotion. He checked the bedroom. The bed was still made, untouched during the night. Worry seeped into the pit of his stomach. It was too soon. It wasn't his time yet.
    He bit his lip and closed his eyes. Focusing on Robert, he let his sense guide him through the mist of souls. Like a forest, each soul rooted to its body with a tether. He felt his way through the forest until he found Robert, his root pulsing at an unsteady rate.
    He opened his eyes again and followed the sense of Robert out into the city.
    Emotion rolled in his chest as he rushed for Robert's sense. This wasn't supposed to happen today. He was suppose to have days left. Simon closed his eyes, willing back the burn in his chest raging through him like fire. He took a ragged breath and looked at the building in front of him.
    The white hospital building looked far more ominous than usual, and his eyes were drawn up to the third floor where Robert lay. Reaper's presence in the area sent a chill through him, but not close enough to be a bother. Walking inside, he slipped past nurses and through restricted areas to find Robert lying on a bed. Tubes and wires ran from his body to machines. His skin was a pasty gray, and a thin blanket had been tossed over him. His frail body only a shell of the life it had held the previous day.
    Simon moved closer, his chest twisting and breath coming in painful gasps. “Robert,” he called.
    Tired eyes opened and a weak smile touched his lips. “I knew you'd come soon,” Robert whispered.
    "It's not your time yet."
    "But soon, right?"
    Simon swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah. Soon."
    "A piece of the bullet is by my heart. They want to operate tomorrow. I don't think I'll make it through surgery. Do you?"
    Simon shook his head. Emotion burned through him and he stroked Robert's cheek. The day's growth rasped against his fingers. His hand trembled with the touch. He wished he could stop time from passing, stop the world from moving. Tears blurred his vision, and he bent down, kissing Robert's lips.
    "I'm sorry,” he whispered. “I wish things were different."
    Robert's hand ran over his cheek as he pulled away. “I'm okay now... I have a request."
    Simon's heart twisted. “Please, Robert. Don't do this. I'm begging you.” His vision blurred and he kissed Robert again, trying to keep him from speaking. He buried his head in his neck and pressed his lips to his ear. “Please, don't do this."
    Each breath burned Simon's chest, so heavy. He was breaking. A thousand pieces, each one ripping and tearing at his soul. He hadn't been sure he had one until now. This moment.
    "Shh, I know what I want now, and it isn't what you think,” Robert said.
    "I don't want to hear it. Just rest, okay? There's still time to change your mind."
    A small smile touched Robert's lips and his eyes grew heavy. “I'm tired, Simon."
    "I know. Just rest a little bit. It'll be over soon."
    Simon stood back as Jerry came to visit later that night. The cowboy stripper looked very subdued in his plain jeans and simple t-shirt. The worry etched on his face made Simon's heart break. He was tempted to give them some space, but had promised Robert he wouldn't leave him.
    "Hey,” Jerry whispered.
    Robert forced a smile. “Hey yourself."
    Jerry forced a grin. “You're a hero, you know. You were in the papers."
    "You still aren't my type."
    Jerry laughed. “And here I