The First to Die at the End (Death-Cast #0)(46)

And now here he is, in bed with another guy on his first night.

“I haven’t told my parents I’m dying,” he says.

Everything about this is shocking, but for me, the biggest shocker is how I forgot he’s going to die today. I got so sucked into his history and cheering on his future that I felt like I slipped into another universe where Valentino is going to have the chance to discover himself the way he’s been dreaming about. But he’s not, because he is going to die today and his parents who drove him away have no idea.

“Are you going to tell them?” I ask, even though it’s not looking good that he hasn’t already tried to drop this big news.

“What’s the point? Their priest has convinced them that only God is omniscient and that Death-Cast is the work of the devil.”

I almost turn on the lights so Valentino can personally watch me roll my eyes.

“Maybe they’re watching the news and know better by now,” I say.

“I’m still undecided. You’ll probably think I’m a monster if I don’t.”

“No the hell I won’t. Why do you think I would?”

He gets really shifty. “I don’t know. You’ve lost family unexpectedly, and I’m sure you have a lot you would’ve said to your parents had you known it was the last time you were going to see them. . . . Did you ever get the chance to talk to them about your heart?”

“Heart stuff didn’t start until I was sixteen, remember?”

“I wasn’t clear. I’m sorry. I wasn’t talking about your heart condition. I was talking about where your heart pulls you, or more who it pulls you to.”

I like that even though I never said anything out loud, Valentino still knows I’m gay. Or at least that I’m not straight. Yeah, I was flirting with him in Times Square and I’m sharing a bed with him now, but I’m really proud of how openly I carry myself. This shit can be really scary, don’t get me wrong. Especially in the South Bronx, where I’ve never seen two men holding hands and gay is used as an insult. But I’ve known for years I wasn’t going to have forever to come out, so I flew out of that closet when I got the chance.

I’ll just always wish it had been sooner.

“I didn’t get to talk about it with my mom and dad,” I say.

“Do you think they would have been okay?”

“Okay with the gay?”

“Okay with the gay,” he repeats. “Don’t feel like you can’t be honest just because my parents weren’t ideal about it.”

“You sure-sure?”

“I am sure-sure.”

“My mom and dad always wanted me to be happy. I think they always felt guilty that they didn’t make more money to buy me whatever I wanted, so they did their best everywhere else. Like getting me a library card when I needed new books to read, or stealing printer paper from work so I could write my stories. So I don’t think they would’ve given a flying fuck who I brought home as long as they made me happy.”

Valentino throws up a fist. “Well done, parents of Orion. No wonder you’ve turned out so great.”

I blush in the darkness. “I got to give shout-outs to Dayana and Floyd too. They’ve been really dope guardians. I can’t think of a better place to have moved to than the home of my mother’s childhood best friend. We got to grieve her together, and Dayana’s always been letting me find my way and make my own mistakes, even when she wanted to step in. Like Times Square.”

“She didn’t want you to go?”

“Nope. Dalma’s parents wanted us to stay in, but I was itching for an adventure.”

“Wow. If you hadn’t been there . . .”

“Yeah, yeah. I saved your life, I’m a total hero. We get it.”

“I was going to say that if you hadn’t been there and tackled me, then maybe I’d still have my cell phone,” Valentino says, a smile in his voice. He playfully nudges me, and I feel like we’re one millisecond away from wrestling on this air mattress and saying “No homo!” even though we’re both gay. “I’m really glad you were there. That clearly wasn’t my finest hour, but it could’ve been a lot worse.”

“You could’ve lost your wallet too.”

“And my life,” he says, fully serious.

This first day of Death-Cast is so dizzying.

One moment, the Decker whose life I saved has his spirits lifted, and the next, he’s haunted.

Maybe this is the biggest advantage to how life was lived before—you don’t spend any time grieving yourself when you’re not expecting to even die in the first place.

“Seriously, I’m happy you’re alive. I’ll save you as often as I can.”

“Happy,” he echoes.

There’s something sad about the way he says happy.

He could be tired. It’s late as fuck—four o’clock in my body, one o’clock in his. But I think it’s a life exhaustion weighing him down.

“Valentino?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not a fan of your parents. Straight-up. If they can’t meet you where you’re at, that shit is on them. It’s their loss because you’re fucking awesome. If you think you got something to gain by talking to them one last time, I say go for it. But please, please, please only do it for yourself. You don’t owe anything to people who don’t want to see you happy.”