Page 117 of If the World Was Ending

The morning of the funeral, Hunter had a massive anxiety attack. The reality of it was crushing. She was gone. Forever. He had to stand up in front of everyone and admit that, and that seemed like the most overwhelmingly impossible feat in the world. So he knelt in his fancy suit and puked into the toilet while his father stared at his coffee in the kitchen without drinking it. “You okay?”

“No, but I’ll deal,” Hunter had called back as he reached for toilet paper to wipe his mouth.

He got up and brushed his teeth as the doorbell rang. As he was spitting and trying not to gag, he decided he might have to ask his dad to give the eulogy because now he was hearing things. Colby’s voice.

He dropped his toothbrush into the holder and stepped into the hall. There, on the front stoop, visible through the door Greg Law was holding open, dressed in a pair of charcoal dress pants and a matching button-down with the sleeves rolled up, was Colby Keaton.

“I don’t want to intrude. I just—” His words stopped the moment Hunter threw himself into Colby’s arms.

“Thank you.” Hunter sobbed into his shoulder.

“I got you,” Colby whispered as he moved over the threshold, essentially dragging Hunter with him.

The funeral was hell, but Hunter’s eulogy was beautiful, and he got through it only because he kept his eyes focused on Colby at the very back of the church. Afterward, people gathered at Baton Rouge near her apartment. Hunter had rented out the entire thing, and although he had less than zero of an appetite, he took comfort in watching everyone eat her favorite foods. Colby stayed until the last guest left, and then he walked over to where Hunter was thanking the restaurant manager. When he was done, Colby said, “Can I do anything?”

“You’ve done everything.”

Colby smiled. It was dimple-free because it was sad. His hands were tucked into the front pockets of his pants, but it looked like he was straining to keep them there. “I’m staying at that same hotel I was at when we toured. If you need anything or want?—”

“I need you to come home with me.”

Colby’s eyes, which had taken on more gray than blue thanks to his outfit choice and probably the somberness of the day, widened. “To your mom’s place?”

“Yeah. Dad and I are staying there,” Hunter explained. “It’s mine now. She owned it. But I’ve signed the executor of the will over to him, and I’m putting the place in his name when everything is sorted. His ex really took him to the cleaners, and I’m worried he won’t be able to retire. I mean she even gets half his pension when he gets one.”

Colby nodded, letting Hunter babble about this even though none of it mattered. Hunter knew Colby’s reaction was about the offer. “So you want me to go there now? With you and your dad?”

“And the cat. Manuel. He’s mine now too. Do you like cats?”

“I don’t mind them.”

“He needs to be walked.”

Colby quirked his head like he didn’t hear Hunter properly. “Walked? Like a dog?”

“Yeah. Mom decided to do that, and he loves it so… I’m gonna have to walk a cat on a leash in West Hollywood,” Hunter told him.

Colby shrugged. “I’ve seen weirder things in West Hollywood.”

“Me too,” Hunter agreed. “But I’m sure the gossip sites like Dos Yo will love it.”

Dos Yo was a particularly brutal gossip site that seemed to go out of its way to post the most unflattering candids of celebrities. They’d once posted a photo of Colby adjusting his nut sack as he pumped gas. And a photo of Hunter scratching his nose, but the angle made it look like he was picking it if you didn’t zoom in.

“So can you come by?” Hunter asked, and he sounded casual, like it didn’t really matter either way, but the look in his eyes was desperate and sad and so fucking vulnerable, and he knew it. He just couldn’t hide anymore. Not today anyway.

“What about your dad?” Colby asked. “Will he be okay with it?”

“Yeah.”

“Does he…”

“He doesn’t, but he’s going to find out,” Hunter answered the question Colby never fully asked. “He won’t care. He might not even notice because he’s kind of a mess.”

Colby nodded. “If you want me to come home with you, I’ll come home with you.”

Greg Law didn’t even blink when Colby got into the back seat of his car and came back to the apartment with them. Hunter and Greg spent a couple of hours going through Catherine’s scrapbooks from when Hunter was small and telling stories to Colby. They laughed more than they cried, and Hunter thought she would have approved of that. By 9:30p.m., Greg looked exhausted and told them he would try to rest. He disappeared into the bedroom, and Hunter and Colby took Manuel on a walk around the block.

Colby couldn’t stop giggling at how ridiculous it was, but the cat seemed to absolutely love it. The residential Westmount street was quiet, and nobody noticed them. The few people who walked by were focused on the black and white fur ball on the red leash. Hunter wondered how different it would be if they were walking together down a street in LA. Why did it have to be like this? Would it really cost him roles? His career? Colby’s chance at solo success or future sales for Tidal?