Work Text:
Robby held the pen with shaky hands, hunching over the desk as he began writing.
“Dear Jack,
I am so sorry. I'm tired, I'm angry, and I'm done. From the moment we met 27 years ago, there hasn't been a day where I didn't feel loved. I still remember it clear as day — your curly ginger hair, composed posture, the same gruff voice, the same teasing voice, and the same narrow of your eyes. How could I forget? The day I decided I'd hate you forever, not knowing I'd be eating my words almost a year later, floating around your apartment like it was my home — but it was. Little did I know, I'd be marrying you after swearing to hate this cocky new med student forever. You turned my life upside down Jack, only for the better. It's not your fault, never has been, never will be. I'm just exhausted my love, I need to sleep a little longer this time, okay? I know you can handle it, it'll be like the time you were in the military. It was a nightmare, but you got through it, and you'll push through this too. I'm not worth missing, not worth fretting about. You're the strongest person I know, my absence should never affect you. My precious boy, I know I've exhausted you beyond your wits. Talking me out of attempts, grounding me after panic attacks, stitching me up, washing my own blood off of me — I put you through too much. But, no longer. This is all for you. You won't have to carry my burden anymore. Go out, meet new people, find a better partner, live your life. Live the life I held you back from, please? I just need you to know it's not your fault, it will never be your fault. I love you more than I can fathom, I love you more than the idea of eternal peace. If it weren't for you, I would've died decades ago. You're my angel, my saviour, the light of my life. I'm sorry I couldn't be anything but a burden. I put you through hell because you made the mistake of wanting to know me. It's all my fault, and I'm making up for it now, alright? I promise I tried. I promise I love you, even when all that's left of me are rotting bones. But hey, you'll finally get rid of my shabby bike you've always hated.
Love, Michael.”
His eyes scanned over it one more time, tears prickling his eyes as he carefully put it in a white envelope, shoving it in his desk until it was time.
Jacks entire body shook and convulsed as he read the letter. It was the day after the funeral. He hadn't even realised the funeral happened. Everyone from the staff was in shambles, but nothing could compare to the grief that rode over Jack. Everyone chipped in as much help as they could manage, the gnawing pain of Robby's absence eating away at all of them. They all look so exhausted, Jack remembers thinking. He didn't know how he looked so much worse.
Since he'd gotten that call, since he had to mutter the words “Robby's gone” to countless people, since he'd had to be there at his husbands funeral, he hadn't stepped into their bedroom.
Jack received the call nearly towards the end of his shift. Since then it was just the hospital, then Dana's house after he called her from the drivers seat of his car, telling her what happened and how he couldn't get his hands to move, and then the funeral.
He knew Robby was final about his sabbatical, failing to stop him and bidding a bittersweet goodbye in the confines of the break room once Robby swore with utmost genuineness that he was okay, that he'd gotten the green light from Caleb. He promised he'd be back in a month and spent the remainder time with Jack.
He lied, and lied, and lied.
Guilt and shame drowned Jack. This was all his fault. And now, because of his carelessness, his husband was gone.
So now, after looming at the door of their bedroom for an hour before pushing in, after breaking down at the lingering scent of Robby, he weakly trembled towards the bed, and found a letter on his pillow.
“Oh. Oh, no. No no no no.” Jack sobbed and chanted and he reached out for the letter with shaking hands, not wanting it to be what he thought.
He continued chanting “no no no” as he read, tears staining the crisp paper of the letter. He continued to cry until he dehydrated himself and threw up at the foot of his their bed. All he could remember was calling Dana with bleary vision, telling her how he thinks he's dying, before he either hung up or passed out, he couldn't really remember.
He really couldn't remember anything except for the warm laughter that used to fill their house, and the pretty wrinkles that were delicately rooted on his lovers face. Jack felt his fingers twitch and reach out to trace over Robby's wrinkles, but he was met with a void.