Don't do this.

There's a voice in my head, and I know it's his. It doesn't even have to be in that same quiet rumble, in that calm sort of tone he's always had, for me to know that it's his. I know it's him because I can feel him in my every limb and bone, in my every step and shortened breath. He's inside of me, he's in the air all around me, so I know it's him.

I wish it wasn't, because he's making it so hard for me.

I'm staring at a collection of steak knives stuck neatly into their respective notches of a proper wooden holder. I'm staring, and I'm thinking of how easy it would be for me to be back in his arms again. I can feel him holding me right now, I know he would catch me if I fell, and I know he would come and get me if I ended my life right now.

Don't do this.

He wants me to be strong for him. He wants me to be happy without him, to move on and enjoy the rest of my life for the both of us, without him. He's trying to comfort me by staying close, but he's just haunting me. He doesn't know that it's just making me want to do it more. Every day I drive home from work and I think of how easy it would be … just a flick of the wrist is all it would take. But then I hear him, and my eyes well up with tears and I turn the radio louder to drown it out. He's telling me to stick it out, but I can't do it.

I can't live my life when all I feel is that I was destined to live by his side.

I think he can tell that today is different. I think he can tell that today I really need to do it, that today was so terrible because I saw a rowboat on the lake and we always said we wanted to make out in a rowboat someday. I think he can tell that that was the last straw, that that was the last time I ever wanted to have something so trivial remind me of something so beautiful and perfect. I think he can tell that I miss him more today than ever before.

"Adam, help me."

Don't do this.

"I can't do it anymore. I don't want to die but I miss you so fucking much, I can't do it without you."

He's coiled up inside me as I run my fingers along the sleek black grips of each knife. Stop it, Jay. Stop it right now.

"I've been trying, you know I have," I try to defend myself, choosing carefully.

Put it down.

"I can't." Tears fall.

Please, please put it down. Please don't do this, I don't want you to do this for me.

"I can't live alone anymore. It's been almost a year and it gets worse every day. You can't be my fucking conscience, Adam. Everything reminds me that you're gone."

I'm not gone... I'm here.

"You're not fucking here!" I yell, throwing the knife in my hand across the room. It sticks into the white painted plaster of the wall and I fall downward with a resounding thump as my ass hits the floor. "You're not here, you're never here, you'll never be here, I need you so bad. I fucking talk to myself I need you so bad."

You're talking to me.

"YOU ARE NOT HERE!" I sob. There's an echo that reminds me of how alone I am. Alone, in my kitchen, screaming at the ghost in my head that claims to be the only man I ever loved.

There's silence, and then only me crying. It's a scene that's been played out many times before, except most of the time I don't really want to kill myself so bad. With that thought back in my head, my face sets with determination and I scramble rather ungracefully to my feet. My fingers grip the edge of the counter until my knuckles bleed white and I stare at the selection of knives again before yanking one unceremoniously from its holding place.

I want to die. I am going to die. I would rather be dead than live torturing myself with his memory for the rest of my life.

"Jason."

I leap. It's the voice I know, it's his voice, but it's not in my head. It's ringing in my ears like someone blasted a fog horn at my temple. Spinning, I face the table and he's sitting there like I've always remembered him, in a chair that I don't remember being pulled out. He's sitting sideways to face me with one elbow draped over the back and fierce concern in his bright eyes. He's wearing the clothes I last saw him in before he died - blue denim shorts and a gray teeshirt.

I stumble backwards into the sink, dropping the knife with a clatter to the pale linoleum and gaping at the sight before me. "You're … you're not, but I …"

He stares at my apparent shock but doesn't seem to acknowledge it. "You need to cut this shit out, Jay, you're scaring the hell out of me."

"You're dead," I whisper in disbelief.

"You can't kill yourself, you can't even think about it. You can't be with me right now and you need to start accepting that. You only THINK you need me, but I know you'll do fine until we're together again."

"YOU ARE DEAD!"

"Promise me that you won't do it," He demands as though he hadn't heard me.

"You're fucking dead!" I scream. I can feel myself becoming hysterical.

He sighs. "I know. I needed to see you again, to make sure you don't do anything stupid. Make sure you remember that you're ALIVE, and therefore are supposed to be LIVING."

I gape at him and it draws a smile to his mouth. "Special permission. This is my only chance to get through to you, so you better listen to me or we're both fucked."

My dumb blinking follows.

"Listen to me Jason," He says firmly. "Killing yourself will not get you to me. It will get you into a world of trouble and endless, lonely heartbreak because you were selfish and took everything around you for granted."

"But every single day of my life is bullshit. Every thought I have is about you; what you're doing, where you've gone, if you knew how much I loved you. Every night I go to bed and I hope with everything in me that it's all just been a horrible dream and I'm going to wake up next to you like always."

He sighs softly, shaking his head. "Don't do this to us, Jay; I didn't come here for this."

"WELL THIS IS THE ONLY REASON I'M HERE!" I scream at him, and he's quiet, looking away. "The only fucking reason I am not dead yet is the disgusting fantasy I have in my head that says someday I will wake up and none of this will have ever happened. I think of you, and what we used to be, and I know you're expecting me to live for the both of us, so I do it. It's the only goddamn reason I'm still alive, so you better have come here for it."

I fall to silence and he slowly looks up to me. "I'm sorry about the fight."

"The fight," I sob with my voice bordering frenzied delirium. It rushes back to me with its blinding pain and fury. The last time I ever saw him, he was in these very same clothes and boiling mad at me. We screamed at each other for an hour straight before finally I turned and stormed out of his apartment. He called after me with venom in his tone, 'Don't ever fucking come back!' To which I spun on heel, threw a rock at him and told him I despised his existence.

My heart explodes and I wail with grief, running and falling against him. He hugs me just as solid as the day he was born and inside me I can feel the sadness that he has for me. He knows I've tortured myself every day with the knowledge that the last thing I ever said to him was I hated him, and now he soothes it. "I am so sorry, Adam, I didn't mean it; I love you more than anyone's ever loved anyone …"

"I know," He whispers and I can hear his mournful smile. "I see it every day, Jase. I'm with you all the time and I can feel your heart every time it breaks. I'm so sorry that this happened, I miss you so much."

"You could come back," I mumble weakly from his shoulder.

"I can't," He replies sadly, and I knew it would be his reply. "But I wish I could, I hate seeing you like this. I just wanted you to know that I'm okay … so stop thinking about if I went to hell like everyone says we will, stop thinking about if there's nothing after death because there is and I'm proof, stop thinking about if I'll hate you for all of eternity because of what you said - I won't! Stop worrying, Jay, there's nothing for you to worry about. I'm fine, and you'll be fine too. We're gonna be together. Just be patient, and live like you're supposed to be living."

"I can't, not without you."

He pulls back and I can see crystal tears shining in his other-worldly eyes. "You are not without me, baby, and don't ever think that again. When you'll talk I'll hear you, when you feel I'll feel it too. If you ever fall in love with anyone else, don't be afraid of it. Do it. What you and I have will always be greater than anything ever known."

I wipe sloppily at my tears and give a choppy sigh. "That won't ever happen. I couldn't love anyone like I do you."

He smiles softly. "Good. I felt obligated to say it."

We laugh a quiet laugh and then silence surrounds us. It's oppressive and invading the moment, pounding on my ears and making me squirm. He's been dead for almost a year and we're together again and there's quiet? I never would have thought it could happen.

"I inadvertently squashed a bug the other night and then sobbed hysterically for the next two hours."

He laughs again and nods. "I remember that. Had a good dream that night though, didn't you?"

I blink and regard him with a sudden, consuming curiosity. "You did that? You can do that?"

He shrugs innocently, grinning that light-up-the-sky grin. It fades quickly, though, and I feel our time together suddenly wash out right from under my feet. "I have to go," he says quietly.

I grow cold and I feel the color drain from my face. "But you just got here!"

He's sad. "I know, but I have to."

"Kiss me? Just once, please?" I beg suddenly, quickly, rushing to get the words out like he's just going to disappear into thin air. Like he did the first time.

His eyes harden and he takes a small step backwards. "I can't."

My face falls. "Why not?"

"Cause it would be a goodbye kiss."

"No, it wouldn't!" I protest. "It would be an 'I miss you' kiss."

He stares at me for a long time and it's the most wretched few moments of my life thus far. I grow terrified of the idea of being with him again in a miraculous turn of events and then not being able to kiss him. "Please?" I ask again. "It's all I ever wanted since you left. Please, Adam."

A moment of hesitance follows before he comes back over to me and loops his arms around my neck, pulling me to him. His lips are warm and vibrant, hardly fitting for the state of life - or, lack thereof - he's in. The thought comes to me in a flash: I'm kissing a dead man. MY dead man. I lean harder against him.

When we break off I feel the sorrow come back. He was right, it was a goodbye kiss. The thought of his leaving crushes me back into the world I'd been ripped out of for the past few minutes.

"I told you," He says quietly, knowing my thoughts. My tears start to trickle again and he quickly wipes them away. "Stop that, Jay, it's gonna be alright. We'll be together again soon. For heaven's sake, just promise me you won't kill yourself. It would ruin everything."

"I won't," I promise him. With the bittersweet ness that this moment has brought, I also feel a glimmer of hope and startling reassurance. He's fine, he doesn't hate me, and he'll be waiting to get me when I die. I guess I can be alright with that.

After all … what's a measly lifetime compared to an eternity of perfection with the man I love?