Chapter Three- Run away, Run away, Run away

June remembered when he first woke up. He slowly opened his heavy eyelids, trying to readjust his blurry vision. The extended wires glued to his temple and belly made him shift uncomfortably in the hospital bed. He shakily inhaled as his eyes trailed the wires to the beeping machines it connected to. The blue, lonely hospital room had large windows with its shades drawn open. He could see people crowded around each other or sitting in chair areas, some seemingly distressed or frustrated. His eyes flickered to the small TV on the wall; it played a black-and-white romance film, though it seemed that the two lovers on the black-and-white screen were saying their last goodbyes. 

As he observed everything, he slowly realized that he didn't recognize his surroundings or himself. What are these strange wires? Where was he? Who was he? 

"June?" a voice called out near the hospital door. The door was slightly pushed open, then fully opened as a brown-haired boy revealed himself. June stared at this boy, heavily observing every aspect of his features, hoping he'd gain a sense of familiarity. 

He didn't. 

He didn't recognize these freckles across this kid's nose, his tall height, or even his general face. June's eyes followed the boy as he inched closer, a wide smile on his face. "I'm really happy you're okay. Marshall was really worried about you, and..." the boy trailed off, his smile faltering for only a second until his eyes suddenly widened. "Oh! H- Hold on, I'm going to get everybody." The boy ran out of the room, leaving June to himself. While he couldn't seem to understand the gravity of his situation, he felt sad. At the sight of that boy, he had an ache in his chest that urged him to cry, but he didn't know why. 

Only moments later, the kid, among others, rushed into the hospital room. Some wore white jackets and approached June cautiously; the rest seemed fidgety or emotional for whatever reason. The brown boy approached June, grasping his hand lightly. June pulled his hand away. The boy's hazel eyes flickered down with confusion, but he gulped it down and smiled slightly. "How are you feeling, June?" He questioned softly. A woman (her hair in a tight, short ponytail) stepped up and pulled the boy back gently. "Corazón, give him some space; he just woke up," she said.

 "Who…w-who are…you?" June spoke slowly, trying his hardest not to fumble his words around. Why was it so hard to speak? The boy's smile fell completely, and he shook his head in disbelief, " What are you talking about? it's me. It's me, Aaron." Aaron's eyes began to tear up. The woman wiped her own eyes and pulled him away from June's bedside, crouching at his eye level. "Aaron, you need to relax and take a deep breath, honey; the doctors warned us." 

Their conversation became quieter as another man stepped up. His black hair was long and curly, reaching to the middle of his back. His eyes seemed worn, maybe with tears or lack of sleep. June immediately noticed the tan gauze on his face, and the white cast around his right arm. "Is this the amnesia you mentioned earlier?" The man questioned. One of the white-jacketed people cleared her throat. "Eruhm...this may be post-traumatic amnesia, one of the possibilities of post-brain damage. As we discussed, behaviors may range from agitated to calm and docile in these cases…" 

June didn't care for whatever they were saying; his focus remained more on Aaron, who stormed out of the hospital room while that lady spoke to him. Once again, June's chest ached with a strange emotion he couldn't describe. He felt oddly guilty as if somehow he'd done something he shouldn't have. What he failed to realize at that moment was that he'd broken the promise he made to Aaron only a month prior.

To cherish him forever.

June sat at the edge of his new bed, remembering that awful moment. He wasn't sure why it came to mind—maybe because history was starting to repeat itself. Once again, Aaron was angry at June, the last time for his lack of remembrance and now for his presence. When Aaron finally came home after dashing through the front door, the Carvez family, plus June and Marshall, all ate Julia's dinner in tension. They had forced conversations at dinner table about the most recent news (though June didn't eat much).

When the dinner ended, June went to their room and drew in his sketchbook, hoping he'd get some peace of mind. He drew random figures of himself and listened to music through his headphones until it was two a.m.. Once everyone fell asleep. Including Aaron, the coast was finally clear.

June slowly slithered out of his bed and picked up his backpack from the floor. He dumped all of its contents—his art supplies, headphones, and other miscellaneous items he'd stuffed into his bag earlier that morning. Now, he aimed to fill it with clothing, his toothbrush, and the twenty bucks Marshall had given him to 'enjoy'.

Originally, he didn't have a reason for Marshall's money, but now he does. He could buy a train ticket.

That's right, he was running away.

In his head, the idea seemed corny and poorly thought out. But it was indeed a solution, perhaps not the best one. At least he'd be out of everyone's hair and away from the chaos he seemed to cause. Marshall wouldn't have to worry about the responsibility of guardianship for his younger brother, and everyone would be happy. Well, maybe, except for June.

He didn't know where he would go or who he would stay with. He debated somewhere warm, like Florida; that way, he wouldn't have to worry about the incoming winter and the possibility of freezing to death. Then he could claim himself as a high school dropout and work until he could afford his own place and start a new life, away from the drama. Yes, that was a good plan.

As he zipped his bag, the mutt (otherwise known as Cooper) sleeping next to Aaron's bedside suddenly woke up, watching as June put on his shoes and pulled his thick, dark green hoodie over his head. June tiptoed to the balcony entrance in the room and slowly slid the door open. Cooper whimpered loudly, which prompted June to flee even quicker. He closed the door and sighed with relief that Aaron didn't wake up. Had he waited longer, Cooper would have snitched with his damn whimpering.

June very catiously made his way down the iron, shaky stairs, which got him to the pavement after a ten-minute struggle of trying not to fall to his death. He glanced back up at the apartment complex one last time, eternally saying his goodbyes to both his brother and the Carvez family.

…

Aaron shifted around in his bed and stretched, his eyes still shut. He half opened his eyes, unable to process anything aside from the fact that he had to pee badly. He slowly sat up and staggered his way to the bathroom. Last night's events still significantly disrupted his mind, as the guilt began to cloud his mind once again. The good thing about sleep is that you can't think, so nothing from the past or present could haunt you. The sad part was that once he woke up, the illusion that nothing mattered anymore faded. Aaron pissed and staggered back to his room, then froze.

 His squinted eyes stopped him from seeing it before, but now his eyes were wide with panic.

Where the hell was June?

Aaron rushed into the kitchen, because aside from his bed and the bathroom (two places that June was not), there was nowhere else he could be within the apartment. Aaron cussed slightly under his breath, grasping the attention of Marshall, who sat at their living room coffee table, doing law homework at four a.m.

"Why are you running around like a rabid dog?" Marshall questioned, pushing his reading glasses up his nose bridge. Aaron gulped and gripped his messy bedhead. "June's missing."

Marshall glared at Aaron for a moment and rested his pen on the coffee table. "Did you check the bathroom?" he questioned. Aaron nodded. "Did you check under the bed?" asked Marshall.

Aaron squinted his eyes. "Why would I look under the bed?" Marshall sighed and slowly stood up.

"He hid under the hospital bed once to avoid doctors."

Aaron stared at him, the confusion on his face unfaltering. Marshall sighed, running his hands through his long curls. "Okay," he said. "You're going to help me find him, because this is your fault."

Aaron sputtered, "My fault?"

"Yes." Marshall stepped closer and jabbed his pointer finger into Aaron's chest. "This is your fault. If you weren't a damn ass when you found out about him, he'd feel more welcomed. You're a selfish idiot who has no self-awareness for how you treat others, so yes, you're going to help me find my damn brother, or so help me, I will beat you."

"Boys, are you guys okay?" Julia questioned me from her room doorway. Marshall backed off and folded his arm, still glaring at Aaron. "He ran away, Mom." Aaron muttered. The tan on Julia's face drained, her face turning pale. "What?! He can be anywhere by now; we need to find him! Let me grab my coat."

"Mrs. Carvez, no. Aaron and I are going to go look; I doubt he got far." Marshall smacked Aaron on the back of his head as he walked towards the front door to grab his coat.

Aaron couldn't help but agree with Marshall; it was his fault, and he had no idea how to fix it.

Within the next five minutes, they drove down the city blocks in Marshall's red car, scoping their eyes out for June. The car was warm but silent. Aaron felt like anything he said would set Marshall off, and it wasn't like he had any words of comfort to provide. But eventually, Marshall did open his mouth to speak.

"I never did like you for my brother." He started, earning a heavy sigh from Aaron. Whatever hatred Marshall had for Aaron resurfaced, even four years later. Aaron recalled the number of times Marshall annoyingly played the 'over-protective big brother' role whenever June and Aaron were together. Had they not been younger back then, he would have used the term cock-blocking. Marshall continued, "But I liked how happy he was. I liked that he can be himself around you; he's very quiet by nature, you know? You two were nice together."

 Aaron looked down at his fingers and asked, "Does he still…um."

Marshall chuckled. "What is he still gay? No clue; I'm curious, but right now it's probably best for him to focus on himself. I mean, you weren't hoping to swing at him so soon…right?"

"Nah, nah, I got a girlfriend now, so..." Aaron trailed off. For whatever reason, it seemed wrong to say so, but it was true.

Marshall eyed Aaron suspiciously and grinned to himself. He wondered how long Aaron and his girlfriend would last now that June would be hanging around.

Marshall came to a slow stop on the side of the street, beside a tall iron fence. Arron turned his head, his eyes widening, when he realized they were in front of the Brooklyn cemetery. Marshall sighed, resting his head back against his seat. "We should check here. He told me a while back that he liked visiting our parents; he's better than me, at least. I haven't been back since the funeral." Aaron pursed his lips and said, "It's okay, I got it. You can stay here." Marshall opened his mouth to object, but before he could, the car door was already slammed shut. He relaxed in his seat and took a deep breath. Perhaps it was best he stayed behind anyway. He wasn't so sure he could handle that chest-aching grief that was bound to wash over him.

The graveyard was pitch black; the dead silence and low fog made the atmosphere erie. Aaron scanned the grave stones as he walked by, some decorated with flowers or children's toys, others lonely with dead leaves scattered over the stone carving. Aaron himself always found graveyards creepy. He was grateful that he wasn't in a position to visit any, unlike June.

He pulled out his X-phone and pressed the flashlight into the dark, praying he didn't see a tall ghost of some sort standing in the distance. Maybe the paranormal shows his mother liked to watch were finally getting to him. He continued in a straight line, following the cemetery signs that split and directed the alphabetical range of the gravestones. Even in the (unusually) organized cemetery, he didn't seem to see June nearby.

Aaron sighed, nearly ready to give up, and then he froze in his tracks. If he weren't mistaken, he could hear a slight tune of music. Aaron's left ear twitched, and so he turned in that direction, the high-pitched music seemingly getting stronger. "June!" he called out, his hands cupped around his mouth. He paused for a moment, hoping to hear a response of some sort. Strange enough, the tiny music came to a sudden stop. "What the hell?" he muttered to himself. Once again, he scanned the area with his flashlight and said, "Shit!"

Aaron stumbled back, knocking over the spiritual candels and yellow flowers that covered the gravestone he tripped on. Aaron squickly sat up and scrambled for his phone on the ground, his fingernails collecting loose dirt from the dirt ground below him. Even though the darkness blinded his sight, he still managed to grasp his cellphone from below him. He used the sleeve of his burgundy sweater to brush off the camera and shine the light in front of him. He was certain that the dark figure in front of him was none other than a gohst or spirit of some sort, slumped against one of the headstones.

Whatever it was, he was prepared to fight. "June?"

The thin line of Aaron's brow jumped in surprise, then he slighted in relief when he realized he hadn't encountered a gohst of any sort. His relief immediately turned into frustration as he wiped his dirty hands against his blue jeans. "June, what the heck? You scared the fuc-crap out of me."

June looked up, staring blankly. Then, to Aaron's surprise, he let out a small chuckle and pointed to a gravestone behind Aaron. "I can't believe you got scared; you also knocked down those decorations. You'd better pick them up," he said.

Aaron sighed, resting his hands in his pocket. "So you ran away?"

June shrugged, resting his back against his parents gravestone. Aaron read the carvings on the stone, which read, 'Here lie two beautiful souls. David Jimenez and Rose Jimenez God, it brought back memories. He remembered when his mother used to keep up with the grave cleaning, adding white roses at least once a month and washing the front of the stone with a damp washcloth. Sometimes, when Julia was too emotional to finish the process, he and his brothers helped. His mother mourned the loss of her best friend more than anything she had before, and it always broke his heart to see her cry.

As time passed, Julia healed emotionally, and the visits were less frequent. It was sad to see the buildup of dirt between the carved letters and the edges of the rounded headstone. If his mother saw it now, she'd want to start cleaning it again.

"I tried to. But my bus fair fell down a sinkhole, so I came here instead." He said, resting his eyes on his worn-out sneakers. Aaron grunted and sat face-to-face on the half-frozen ground (for once, he didn't mind that his hands and jeans were dirty). It bothered him that June's hair had grown over his eyes, hiding their undefeated beauty.

He began to speak, but he struggled to fully pronounce his words, "I'm... I'm sorry, June. I never wanted to hurt your feelings." June shrugged, his finger dancing around in the grass, tracing imaginary shapes into the dirt.

"Can I blame you? I wouldn't want anyone to intrude in my space either..."

"Again?" Aaron questioned.

"Yeah, when I first spent the night in your room a while back. I could tell you were uncomfortable with me around, just like now. It's not your fault."

Those words were like a bee on the surface of Aaron's heart. Intrude? How could he ever He didn't know how to explain it, but when he first saw June earlier that day, that's not what he thought at all. He was ecstatic, sad, and felt grief all at the same time. He missed him like crazy. But how could June ever understand that? He couldn't even remember who Aaron was, and it hurt. It almost angered Aaron at the same time—the fact that one person could stir his emotions into the dangerous tornado that it became—twisted with sadness, anger, and relief.

How could he ever express that?

"June, I- I'm not uncomfortable around you. I just… I didn't know, and I was surprised. Had I known you were coming, I would have mentally prepared myself."

June scoffed, "And I stir you up that much?"

Yes, you really fucking do.

"Well, I wouldn't say that. I want you around June, and I never wanted you to leave. When I was younger, everything was fresh, and I didn't understand anything. Now, I do."

June shook his head. "That's the thing. You don't; no one does. Everyone is always telling me how they understand what I've been through, and they understand why I'm so damn depressed. But no one understands that when I look at myself, I can't see who you see. Whatever relationships and memories I had are gone, and I don't know who I was before the accident. So in reality, you'll only ever see me as the person I was before, and I never will."

 Aaron gulped. June was right. When he looked at June, all he saw was that quiet, goofy kid who held an innocence that no one else had. He should give up, because he may not see that version of June again, and maybe that was okay. 

June slowly rubbed the cold stone surface of his family grave, where two parents were laid to rest.

"It's so strange," he said once again. "Even they know parts of me that I don't. They're the only part of my past I want to remember right now, and it kills me every day that I don't. Marshall refused to speak about them, and my aunt couldn't speak about them either. I wish I could have known them beyond their photos."

"I can tell you." Said Aaron.

June's head shot up quickly, and he brushed his hair away from his eyes so he could look at Aaron and decipher whether he was bullying or not. "Are you serious?" He questioned, his eyes lighting up for the first time since he'd arrived or the past two months.

Aaron stood up from the ground, brushing the dirt off his dusty clothes. "Sure thing, we can talk about them when we get home, or for the entirety of this night if you'd like."

"You're just saying that 'cuz you don't want to go back." June denied.

"Nah. I'm saying it because it'd be nice to see you look forward to something. Or even smile."

Aaron stuck his dirty hand out in front of June, which June hesitantly grabbed and slowly stood up, securing his heavy backpack on his shoulder. He waited for Aaron to let go, naturally, though he didn't until about thirty seconds later.

"Do you forgive me?" Asked Aaron as they treaded through the dark, using the headlights of Marshall's car to guide themselves.

June's face went deadpan.

"Never."