Under_The_Whispering_Door_by_TJ_Klune

negligible impulse. He was a tea plant, roots deep in the earth, leaves
waiting to be plucked.
Great flashes of light crossed his vision, the brightest stars streaking
across all the blackness. In each of these stars, a glimpse, an echo. He saw
Cameron and then he was Cameron. It was discordant, harsh and rough. It
was brilliant and numbing and terrible. It was—
Cameron laughed. A man sat across from him, and he was like the sun. On
the hazy outskirts, a violinist moved by, the music from the strings sweet and
warm. There was nowhere else Cameron wanted to be. He loved this man,
loved him with every piece and part of him.
The man said, “What’s that smile for?”
And Cameron said, “I just love you, is all.”
Another star. The violin faded. He was young. Younger. He was hurting.
Two people stood before him, a man and a woman, both severe. The woman
said, “Such a disappointment you are,” and the man said, “Why are you like
this? Why are you so damn ungrateful? Don’t you know what we’ve done for
you? And this is how you choose to repay us?”
And oh, how crushing that was, how it devastated him. He was heartsore
and nauseous, wanting to tell them he could be better, he could be who they
wanted him to be, he didn’t know how, he—
A third star. The man and woman were gone, but their disdain remained
like an infection coursing through blood and bone.
The man like the sun rose again, except the light was fading. They were
fighting. It didn’t matter about what, just that their voices were raised, and
they were clawing and scratching, each word like a punch to the gut. He
didn’t want this. He was sorry, so sorry, he didn’t know what was wrong
with him, he was trying, “I swear I’m trying, Zach, I can’t—”
“I know,” Zach said. He sighed as he deflated. “I’m trying to be strong
here. I really am. You need to talk to me, okay? Let me in. Don’t leave me
guessing. We can’t keep going on like this. It’s killing us.”
“Killing us,” Cameron whispered as the stars rained down around them.
Wallace saw bits and pieces of a life that wasn’t his. There were friends
and laughter, dark days when Cameron could barely pull himself out of bed, a
pervasive sense of acrimony as he stood next to his mother, watching his
father take his last breaths from his hospital bed. He hated him and he loved