Archive of Our Own

      ➤ 1987

Laurie walks down the paved street. Apprehension colours his entire frame, every step measured, like a fawn who just learned how to walk. The people around him don’t seem to have the same problems: they are bouncing to the stray music from the radio, chattering and laughing loudly, pulling each other close and closer, too impatient to finish the walk to the club just right around the corner. He would have guessed that the residents of San Junipero would have already gotten used to this lively atmosphere, gotten bored even, but apparently not; the thrill remains, coursing through their veins. Saturday night's a tempting mistress, her allure inescapable.

Well, he thinks, there is only one Saturday a week, after all.

Laurie takes a deep breath. The club is a glowing sign, lit in neon blue and purple, impossible to miss. Another couple walks past him toward the club, their back-and-forth that walks a fine line between playful and augmentative catching his ears.

“Jon, come on,” says a man with bleached hair, looking way out of Laurie’s league. “Jon!”

There’s a tinge of desperation that seeps through Jon’s dismissive tone. “Dan, could you please stop it? I just wanna have fun, alright?”

“Jon.”

“I’m still walking, Dan.”

“We've only got a couple of hours so let's, uh... let's use it.”

“I am using it,” Jon replies, not looking back over his shoulders to even see the beginning of a frown on Dan’s face as he follows Jon into the club.

They are right. He’s only got a couple hours as well, and it’d be a waste to just stay outside.

The dance floor is crowded, sweaty bodies swaying back and forth against each other to the loud pop music. It’s some top track from ‘86, good enough to not upset his sensibility, but generic enough to be forgettable. And that’s the point of a nightclub tracklist, right? It’s only half a rhetorical question; Laurie himself isn’t sure of the answer. He has never— This is not his scene, not really. Perhaps, if there was a chance, he would have found an eventual enjoyment from all that this has to offer.

What is he saying? He’s in what seems like the most popular place that night time San Junipero has to offer. This is his chance to see if he can belong here, or anywhere else for the matter. This is his chance to explore uncharted territory, and the promise of something new is enough for him to push his way deeper into the club.

And yet, he’s not really doing anything new.

Away from the crowded bar and the dance floor, Laurie’s tapping quickly at the arcade machine. The 8-bit avatar follows his control with a delay no matter how hard he spams the button. It’s a pleasant surprise that he still hasn’t died yet.

“Hey. I’m… Uh, I’m Adam.” Laurie’s eyes flicker away from the screen toward some guy in a tacky t-shirt and dyed blond hair poking out from the backward cap. He looks back at the screen. Adam, undeterred, continues: “You’re good at this.”

“Hmm.”

“It’s— Uh… It got different endings depending on if you’re in one or two players.”

“Uh-huh?”

“It was kinda the first game to do that.”

Laurie has timed the movement wrong. The machine plays a little tune as it shows the game over screen. “Damn it!” he mutters, and couldn’t resist a final harsh slam on the button with his entire palm. He was so close to beating whoever the previous top scorer as well.

Hand fishing for another token from his pocket, he’s interrupted by Adam again. “Do you, uh—” He’s gesturing at a different game behind Laurie. “Do you wanna play Top Speed?”

Top Speed, as the name suggested, is another classic racing game. On the idle screen, it shows a red car weaving back and forth on a track, trying to overtake another yellow car. He fondly remembers playing along with that idle screen when he had run out of token, pretending that he was actually in control. When it swerved left, he would move the joystick left, and vice versa.

The car swerves left, too fast and too far. It crashes against the houses lining the track.

Laurie flinches back. “Oh— no.” He blinks. “Thank you, but I was just. I just wanna get my bearings a bit.”

“Oh, okay.” Adam chuckles nervously. “See you around?”

Laurie hums, non-committedly. He’s already forgetting what Adam looks like as he moves away from this quieter corner. He needs a drink.

Thank God there are less people at the bar now. He thinks about getting something alcoholic, half-hoping it would relax his system, but in the end he chickens out and orders a Coke instead. They give him the full glass bottle with a red straw poking out; Laurie finds himself at a rare empty booth then, sipping on the fizzy drink and watching time pass him by. He feels like his first night here is slipping away from his fingers. The music and chatter continue around him, people finding and pulling each other in for a friendly kiss on a cheek. He finds that he does enjoy people watching though—maybe because it has been a while since he has been around this many people—so it’s not an entire waste of the night at least.

He chokes on his Coke when someone from the crowd catches his gaze though. It’s too late to avert his gaze; the man is already marching over to his table. Laurie dreads whatever he’s gonna say, and there’s already a polite apology or a less-polite fuck off prepared on his lips when the man slides in beside him, his arm resting on Laurie’s shoulder with such ease that it feels like it’s always meant to be there.

“Just follow my lead, yeah?” the man whispers to him quickly, and any planned words Laurie has prepared die in his throat in favour of confusion.

“Excuse me?”

“Listen, just. Whatever I say, go along with it.” His voice sounds vaguely familiar. Moments later, another person approaches their table, clearly here for the stranger by Laurie’s side. “Okay Dan, you’re just pestering me. Do I have to red light you?”

Dan taps on the watch, his long nails making a satisfying clack-clack noise. “Two hours and 35, there’s not much time left.” His voice is also familiar. Ah, the couple from before.

With great exasperation: “Dan.”

Dan sighs, kneeling down, not caring that his nice jeans are gonna get dirtied by God knows what is on the ground in a nightclub. “Look,” he starts. “Last week, we had the most—”

“Last week was last week,” Jon cuts in, annoyed. He motions to Laurie. “I need to talk to my friend here, okay? Haven’t seen him in a while.”

A disbelief scoff from Dan.

Jon leans forward, lowering his voice to a hushed whisper. “Dan, he’s sick! Like, “six months to live” sick.”

At that point, Laurie’s brain kicks in. “Five, actually,” he adds, a burst of confidence coming out of nowhere. Jon’s eyes flicker to him with appreciation, his hand giving Laurie’s shoulder a thankful squeeze.

Laurie smiles back.

“Anyway,” Jon continues, stern. “I need to catch up with him. Private time.”

Dan looks over them, his gaze lingering on Laurie. Defiantly, Laurie looks back, half-daring Dan to challenge their non-existence until a few moments ago friendship.

“Okay,” Dan sighs, holding both of his hands up in concession. “Okay!” He stands back up, grimacing. To Laurie, he adds: “Hey, I’m sorry.”

For the five months to live illness, right. “That’s okay,” Laurie says.

With a final hopeful, “I’ll see you around?” to Jon, Dan walks off, melting back into the crowd until Laurie loses sight of his bleached hair. When Laurie is sure that he’s away, he breathes a sigh of relief.

Next to him, Jon giggles. “Sorry for killing you,” he says. “The whole six months to live— Sorry, five,” he corrects himself with a cheeky grin. Then, consideringly: “Five was a nice touch.”

Laurie chuckles a little, suddenly flustered. He tries to avert his gaze again, but this time his entire body refuses to let him look away.

Jon offers a hand. “Jon,” he says, and Laurie remembers that they are strangers.

“Laurie.”

Jon’s grip is firm; the touch of the rings around his fingers is a refreshing coolness from the almost suffocating atmosphere of the club. When he lets go, Laurie finds himself missing the contact.

“He’s not a bad guy,” Jon sighs, half-explaining himself. “I feel kinda bad. Met him at the Quagmire, and—”

“What’s the Quagmire?”

Jon sputters, giving Laurie a look. “Honestly?” he asks. “You seem just the type to hang around there. But if you don't already know what the Quagmire is, I’m not gonna be the one to tell you. Best not to, really.”

“No?”

“I mean,” Jon shrugs. “Well, anyway.” He looks at the Coke bottle, almost empty. “Want another one?”

It’s hard to say no to Jon, Laurie suddenly finds. So he trails after Jon toward the bar, watching as Jon waves down the bartender by name and ordering the both of them a Jack and Coke, despite Laurie’s half-hearted protest. Again, it’s hard; but this time, he can at least say that he tried.

He stares at the bartender for a moment, watching the way the man moves with ease back and forth in the bar. Then he becomes distinctively aware of Jon’s eyes on him, giving him a once-over with consideration. His gaze is open, earnest in a way that makes Laurie fidgets in his place.

He coughs. “What are you doing?”

Jon does not look away. “I’m,” he hums, “regarding you.”

“Feels more like analysis.”

“Isn’t that what you were also doing?” Jon shoots back. “Anyway, I’m just regarding. Why the glasses?”

Laurie’s hand reaches up toward his glasses. His face feels hot.

Jon backtracks. “No, I like them. They suit you. But, like, do you need them?”

“The lenses don't do anything,” Laurie answers “I… I used to wear them in school. Hated it, but these days, might as well, right?”

“I figured they were kind of a fashion statement,” Jon admits. “But then the rest of your outfit is not— Don't take that wrong. It's refreshing. I mean, look around.”

Laurie glances away from Jon, back to the crowd of people.

“You must have noticed it, right?” Jon asks. “People try so hard to look how they think they should look. They probably saw it in some movie.” Jon reaches forward and touches the frame of his glasses. His hand flicks upward at the brim of the cap, and he doesn’t bother to stifle a giggle when Laurie bats his hand away. “I like these,” he sighs. “They’re very— Hmmm. They’re very you, Laurie.”

The bartender returning with the drink saves Laurie from having to come up with a reply to whatever the hell that was. He picks up his drink quickly, relishing in the cold. They clink glasses.

Maybe taking a big swig of the drink was a bad idea; Laurie coughs, unused to the burn in his throat. “Fuck. Sorry, just—” He takes a shuddering breath. “Sorry.”

“What? You never tasted it before?”

Laurie tries again with a smaller sip. This time the drink goes down easier, and he almost understands why people drink. “It’s not that,” he answers. “I just haven't had it in a while. It's good.”

Jon is back to regarding him. This time, Laurie feels less embarrassed than before; he’s watching, sure, but he’s not judging. He wonders if Jon can catch the flush on his face.

“Do you live here?” Jon asks, keeping the conversation going, thanks God for him.

Laurie shrugs. “No. Well...” He makes a vague gesture.

“Tourist?” It’s an apt description, so he nods. “Alright, tourist it is. So you're new here?”

He almost lies, but it’s probably a moot attempt with how he’s been acting. “It’s my first night.”

“First night, woah! Okay, that’s—” The song changes to something more upbeat, but still generic. But Jon clearly recognises it, because he brightens. “Oh, we have to dance to this.”

He’s already standing up when Laurie asks, “With each other?”

“Duh,” Jon says, still grinning.

Laurie looks toward the dance floor again, picturing himself there with Jon for a moment; the image feels so out of place. “Dance floors aren't my thing,” he says.

“Oh, come on,” Jon says. “Let's not limit ourselves.”

Jon takes his hand with the same ease that he does everything out. For a moment, Laurie is jealous. “Come on, just follow my lead yeah?”

It’s not just hard to say no. It’s impossible. So Laurie gives in and allows Jon to drag him to the dance floor, right in the middle of it all. He knows he will look stupid, his own movement stiff and awkward between shifting bodies. Jon doesn’t have any problem. He looks amazing—mesmerising—as he bounces to the rhythm. When he catches Laurie’s eyes after a spin, he winks; Laurie feels even more breathless, his mouth dried despite the drink.

Jon leans closer to him, placing his hand on Laurie’s waist, the other grabbing his hand again. He’s suddenly aware of the slight calloused Jon has on his fingers. Once again, he lets Jon drag him into uncharted territory; the more they dance, the easier it is to fade into the music and breathe. His energy is contagious. The crowd feels even wilder than it was before. Laurie’s breathing faster, almost tripping over himself as he tries to keep up with Jon. He knows it’s a futile effort. His breathing picks up even more, responding to the upbeat tempo of the song. When he lets go of Jon’s hand after a twirl, it’s like releasing a trapped bird. Jon is destined for the sky and the party and the everything else that makes San Junipero what it is; and Laurie simply does not fit in here. This is not him.

He turns on his heels, and walks off the dance floor with his heart beating too fast in his throat and his hands clenched into fist in the pocket of his jeans. It’s best for him to stop while he’s ahead.

The fire exit swings open, leading to the back of the bar. It’s raining outside. The puddles on the ground reflect the bright neon light, and the pitter patter of raindrops against the roof is calming. The club inside is now only a muted presence. Laurie takes the chance to catch his breath then, adjusting his cap.

He’s being stupid. San Junipero is making him do stupid things.

There’s a brief second of loud chatter from inside the club again, before the door swings shut.

He looks up to see Jon who has followed him out. He’s frowning as he approaches Laurie, stopping just shy of his personal space. It’s considerate enough that it makes Laurie’s heart pick up again.

“Hey,” Jon says. “Why did you run away?”

“I... I said I'm not much of a dancer.”

Jon chuckles ruefully. “You didn’t have to tell me.” Laurie steps away. “Hey, I was joking!” Then, at Laurie’s raised eyebrow, “Well, half joking. Sorry. Didn’t mean to push you into it.”

Laurie isn’t sure what to say to that. There is one truth: he has loved the way Jon pushes him. Something about him makes Laurie feel like he can do it, and that makes him feel more confident than he has ever felt in his life before.

“Saturday night’s once a week,” Jon continues, looking down at his own shoes. “It's like no time. I get impatient.”

There is the other truth. “No, no, it's not that. It's... Everyone was looking,” Laurie whispers, shame burning hot in his gut. “You know, two guys dancing like that.”

It’s like he has just told a joke; Jon laughs loudly, trying and failing to stifle the sound. “It’s San Junipero,” he says, with meaning. “No one's judging. If they were staring, Laurie, it’s because I’m bodacious.”

Something about Jon and that word got a giggle from Laurie. “You’re definitely something,” he admits.

“Yeah? I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Silence falls between the two of them, strangely comfortable. Jon takes a step closer to him at some point, and Laurie does nothing to widen the gap again. “I’ve never been on a dance floor,” he confesses.

“Never?” Jon asks, incredulous. “As in, “the whole time you've been alive” never?”

Laurie shakes his head. “Never.”

Jon laughs a little, still no judgement. “I can’t believe that.”

“Well,” Laurie sighs. It doesn’t matter that much. “As far as my family's concerned, I can't do anything.”

“No one knows about even half the shit I get up to,” Jon replies, something like pride in his statement. “But… With your parents, it's from a place of love, though, right? They worry.”

He says it so hopefully that Laurie almost feels bad. “They don’t,” he replies with a self-deprecating smile. “Just the concept of me enjoying myself would blow their minds.”

Something in the air shifts. Jon’s hand brushes against his. “What would you like to do?” he asks. “That you've never done?”

Laurie wonders if there’s an answer Jon’s expecting from him. “Oh, so many things.”

Even closer now, Jon’s words caress his skin. “San Junipero is a party town. All’s up for grabs, Laurie,” he breathes. “Midnight's two hours away.”

“Oh. That’s not long.”

“Then why are we wasting time talking here?” Finally, Jon crosses whatever precarious lines they were walking on. His hand finds Laurie’s cheek, thumb just shy of his bottom lip. It’s so soft, and Laurie aches.

He’s shaking uncontrollably, he realises.

He hastily steps away, back colliding with the wall. “I, um...” He doesn’t— It’s suddenly very hard to say anything, which is so inconvenient because Laurie is hit with the desperate need to explain himself. “Listen, it’s—"

“It's okay,” Jon says with a smile. It’s all casual with him; of course it is.

“No, I mean—”

“Really, it's okay.”

“No, I'm, uh...” He makes some vague gestures. He wants to rip something in pieces. “I'm engaged,” Laurie blurts out instead. “I have a fiancée. She’s called Brooke.”

Jon blinks at him in disbelief. To his credit, he recovers quickly. “And is Brooke here?”

“Well, no. She’s—”

“Elsewhere?”

It’s apt enough. “Yeah,” Laurie nods, confusion and shame and guilt and self-hate all curling up in his gut. He doesn’t even know how to begin to explain to Jon his situation so he just nods again. “Yeah.”

Jon regards him again. “Wanna go to bed with me?”

“What?”

“We could be back at mine in like—” Jon snaps his finger, and Laurie flinches at how unexpectedly loud it is.

It’s tempting. It’s hard to say no to Jon. He doesn’t want to say no to Jon. “I never did anything like that,” Laurie replies weakly.

There’s a teasing smile on Jon’s lips. “All the more reason,” he says.

“Oh, you're nice,” Laurie sighs. “I just… I can’t.”

“Okay.”

“Really, I—”

Jon shushes him. “I get it,” he says again, meaningful. “It’s okay.”

It feels too close. Jon has been regarding him this evening, but who allows him to dissect Laurie at the back of a club like this? He takes another step away, far enough that he’s no longer under the roof. It doesn’t take long for him to be drenched. “I’m gonna go,” he says. “But it's been really great to meet you.”

“Yeah,” Jon smiles. “Likewise. You’re also nice. Refreshing.”

If he looks at the smile for a second longer, he won’t be able to leave. Laurie tears his gaze away then, and heads out of the alley. His steps disturb the puddle on the ground, ruining the nice reflection of neon light and clear sky. He doesn’t look back.

      ➤ 1992

A week later, Laurie inspects himself in the mirror. He fidgets with the denim jacket. Are the brown trousers too boring? Should he… Jon said he liked the glasses, so he supposes those are staying.

He just wants to feel less out of place, Laurie thinks.

Something more pastel, perhaps. More frills, with flowery patterns that matches all the tattoos that he has wanted to have. He looks closer at the mirror and, following a weird script, bites his bottom lips.

That’s fucking disgusting, he thinks.

Something more form fitting. Purple looks good on him, Laurie has to admit. The golden jewellery, however, feels too heavy. He stands there, unsteady on his own two feet, and thinks no.

It’s black, dark, and mysterious. He hasn’t used eyeliner before, but what is he loosing by trying new things, right? And while he is here, he might as well paint his lips a cherry red, a bright colour standing out from everything else. It’s perhaps the outfit that he’s most comfortable with out of everything else, but…

But it’s not quite him.

      ➤

A week later, Jon gets in his car and drives to the centre of San Junipero, ready to have fun again. Saturday night is finally upon him. He has looked forward to this all week, the music blasting from the radio and the wind in his hair as he speeds down the road.

He’s not looking forward to Dan waiting for him though. “Really?” Jon groans. “Again?”

Perhaps he will get a hint if Jon walks away fast enough. It doesn’t stop Dan. “Listen, Jon. I know I'm coming across—"

Alright, that’s it. Ultimatum time. “I'm red lighting you, for real,” Jon grits.

“No, don't do that. Just—”

“Then stop this!”

Dan grabs him by the shoulder, spinning him around until they’re face to face. The last rays of sunlight catch on Dan’s blond hair, and Jon is hit with the acute realisation that Dan is stupidly good-looking. He knows that already, of course; he hooked up with the guy for fuck’s sake, but now Dan’s looking at him with too much desperation that it’s hard to resist.

“Can you hear me out?” He reminds Jon of a lost puppy. “Please? Please.”

Jon steels his resolve. This has gone on for too long and too far, evidently. “How many people do you think there are in San Junipero?” he prompts. “Hundreds? Thousands? Hundreds of thousands!”

“I don't care.”

He doesn’t pity Dan, is the thing. It’s… Softer, he continues: “I'm saying there's plenty of other fishes out there for you, Dan.”

“The locals? They're like dead people.”

A cluster of people walk past them, almost on cue, whooping loudly. Jon stares at them as they round the street. “A little lively for dead people,” he mutters, shrugging Dan’s hand off and keeps on walking.

“Jon,” Dan calls, matching pace. “Look, I don't want some kind of boring romance, okay? Like, “Jesus, put us in a retirement home” deal.”

His fingers twitch. “Well, if you're looking for someone to fuck,” he spits out, “there's options. Hang out at the Quagmire again.”

“It’s not just sex.”

“It was just sex.”

“No.” Dan steps in front of him. “We made a connection.”

“Dan, it was just sex,” he repeats for the both of them. “No roots. We’ve had our fun, yeah?”

He doesn’t know what’s different about it this time, but something in Dan deflates. “Sorry,” he mutters bitterly, clearly hurt.

Jon sighs. He doesn’t want to hurt people; it was never in his agenda to hurt anyone. Hurt doesn’t belong in San Junipero. He pecks Dan at the corner of his lips, a truthful apology. “Go enjoy the town,” he adds.

Dan nods. He doesn’t stop Jon from walking away this time.

The club is lively as always. It’s a Saturday night after all.

Jon makes his way through the dancing mob toward the bar. He gets his drink, settling back into his seat at the counter, idly listening to the music and watching the people move under neon lights. The encounter from before with Dan still leaves a sour note on his tongue that the cocktail can’t quite wash down; the gaze of another woman in a black dress promises a better distraction though.

He raises an eyebrow, gesturing at the empty seat.

She walks over. There’s this fancy earring on her ear, and Jon recognises it as a smaller and most definitely nicer version of the dreamcatcher he got on a whim last month. “I’m Holly.”

“Jon,” he replies, matching her grin.

“Waiting for someone, Jon?”

“Not really.”

She gives a look at his glass, almost empty. “I’ll get you another drink.”

Jon nods, sitting back as Holly orders a drink that everyone in San Junipero loves. It arrives shortly, and he takes a small sip, tasting nostalgia. “Tourist?” he asks.

Holly nods. “Both my kneecaps had kind of just worn down, so yeah.”

She’s interesting: just the right kind of weird for Jon, and a practising witch—whatever that means—so when the song changes, Jon proposes: “Shall we dance?”

Holly looks to the dance floor. “You know, I’ve never got this song. But, sure.”

They dance. There’s a carefree smile on her face when he spins her around, an almost otherworldly charm. He cracks a joke about charm and curse and whatever, and Holly laughs loud enough that he can catch her joy over the loud thumping music. It’s a perfectly good night with pleasant company, and Jon is having fun, and yet…

Holly must have noticed his mood shift. She makes a counter-proposal to take a breather for a second, saying that her throat is parched again from all this chatting yet starting to talk about everything and nothing at all the moment they sit down at a corner booth. The attempted distraction is obvious. And Jon would have just left Holly to have an enjoyable Saturday night to herself, but it’s clear that she wants to vent a little as well, so he stays. It’s a win-win from a certain point of view. Or, at least, it’s not a win-lose for him.

From a different view, he catches Laurie staring at him.

Jon freezes. Then he makes a conscious effort to relax in his seat, consideringly. Laurie is staring directly at him, no excuse of people watching or gaze being accidentally caught in the moment. He looks good, still in his old outfit with the denim jacket a little too big for his frame and the brown trousers a little too high. He also looks resigned, almost, sipping at his Jack and Coke. There’s a beginning of a smile on his face, like there’s a joke Jon is not getting. When it’s clear that Jon is regarding Laurie back though, his smile turns into something more real.

“You know, if I had caught that first wave,” Holly continues, “it would have had a different story.”

It’s a nice smile, Jon thinks. “I need to use the bathroom,” Jon says, pauses, then: “It’s been very sweet of you, Holly.”

Holly giggles. “If you say so, Jon.”

“Maybe I’ll see you around,” he adds, genuinely meaning it. “But yeah. It’s been—”

“Oh, fuck off, Jon.”

Jon laughs, stilted and thankful.

      ➤

It’s been a helpless evening.

Laurie has watched Jon chats with some nice girl at the bar, has watched as Jon dances with her on the dance floor proper, the way he should have when his partner is actually cool and confident and able to match Jon in his exhilarating energy. Even if Laurie tries, he wouldn’t be able to give Jon what she’s giving Jon.

And maybe he should not be staring like a creep, but Jon has looked back at him as well, hasn’t he? In those seconds, Laurie feels something like a connection between them. It makes his heart flutters.

He hears Jon say, “I need to use the bathroom.” He isn’t sure if that’s a signal. He’s torn between wanting to leave and never returning, having gotten half a thrilling night and something that is nowhere close to a resolution but also close enough to settle something inside of him, but there is a much stronger urge to follow.

Jon’s checking his hair in the mirror, and he’s deliberately avoiding looking at Laurie when he steps in. Laurie takes a hesitated step toward Jon then stops at arm’s length.

Jon rakes a hand through his hair, further dishevelling it.

His heart skips another beat. “I don’t know how to do this,” Laurie blurts.

Jon doesn’t quite look at him; he’s looking at Laurie’s reflection in the bathroom mirror. “Do what?”

He’s making Laurie say it. Laurie doesn’t think he can say it.

“Just help me,” he manages instead. And it makes Jon look away from his reflection, turning toward him. Jon closes the distance then, his hand finding Laurie’s cheek again. It’s too warm, and too real. “Can you just... Just make this easy for me?”

Jon softens. “You wanna get in my car?”

Laurie doesn’t even have to think about it. He nods.

The engine revs.

The car is going too fast, and Laurie is gripping at the edge of his seat, holding onto it like a lifeline. He looks toward Jon, his hair fluttering in the wind, a smile on his face. In the moment, Jon could admit that he’s into street racing and Laurie would accept that fact, no questions asked.

“How long have you been here?” Laurie asks instead, trying to take his mind off of the speed metre.

“What?”

Raising his voice so it can be heard over the engine and the wind, Laurie tries again, “How long have you been here?”

Jon glances at him. “In San Junipero?”

“Yeah.”

“Couple months.” He shrugs, taking a hand off the wheel to tug a stray hair away from his eyes. “Plan is, long enough to enjoy myself. Guess I’m a tourist like you.”

Laurie nods.

Jon’s place is an idyllic beach house, with a porch and white walls. With the waves lashing at the sand in the distance and the moonlight bright, it looks like a dream. Jon guides him to the door, making a half-apology for the sand covering the entrance, then before he opens the door, he adds, “and for the mess inside as well.”

It is a bit of a mess, but more importantly, it is lived in. Traces of Jon are clear in the jacket swung over the couch, the shoes haphazardly kicked off on the floor, an old guitar leaning against the wall, and more. “I like it,” Laurie shrugs. “It’s quite big.”

“Remind me of where I grew up.”

He inspects the picture frames. Jon has a lot of those. He takes notice of a man with messy light brown hair that flops over his face and a bright smile. He seems like he’d have a nice laugh, the type that sets everyone off as well.

“Miss your friend?” Laurie asks, taking a shot in the dark.

Jon doesn’t answer. When he looks up, Jon is suddenly standing too close, his gaze unreadable. Like the rest of Jon, his mouth is also warm. Laurie closes his eyes, leaning closer, trying to copy Jon’s movement. It’s not anything intense, not a make-out session, but when Jon carefully pulls back Laurie finds that he’s shaking. And then they are kissing again, and it’s more desperate this time. Jon has gotten a taste and he is clearly eager for more, kissing Laurie and also tugging him toward the vague direction of the bedroom. His hands are everywhere: on his waist, under his shirt, clasped tightly in his own hands as Laurie stops him for a moment.

“You,” Laurie gasps, breathless. “You’ll have to show me.”

Jon nods. He kisses Laurie again.

Later, Laurie is sprawled out underneath the cover of the bed, Jon’s fingertip tracing the tattoos on his arms. The window is open, the ocean breeze dancing against his skin, cooling him down. He can hear the waves again, lulling them to sleep. It’s peaceful.

“I’ve never slept with a man before,” Laurie says, quietly.

Jon looks up at him, a twinkling glint in his eyes. “Really? You’ve never—?” His tone is teasing, but he also shifts closer, resting his head against Laurie’s chest, right where his heart is. “I mean, it was fucking awesome if you were wondering.”

Laurie shrugs. Might as well say it. “Never… Never with anyone.”

“Not anyone? What, in town or...?”

“No. No one, nowhere.”

Jon hums. “You've had relationships though.”

“Hmm.”

He looks up, a bewildered expression on his face. “Uh— Hello! You got a fiancée.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Yeah, I’ll say,” Jon huffs, playful, already accepting the fact as easy as that.

On a roll, Laurie continues: “When did you know... that you liked men?”

“I like women too,” Jon giggles. “Equal rights.”

Laurie remembers earlier this evening, and Jon’s other date. “Right. But… But when did you know? Do you always know?”

“Yeah. I'd be attracted to other guys, co-workers, friends, some waiter that served me. They were crushes.” Jon sighs a laugh. “God, they were crushes. And then there was my soulmate. I was with him for a very long time. We were madly in love.” He pauses, something fragile about the moment. “He chose not to stick around,” Jon admits, a note of bitterness and a lot of love in his words. “So now it's me. And I'm passing through.”

Laurie holds him a bit tighter.

“And before I leave,” Jon continues, lighter. “I'll have a good time. I'm just gonna have a good time.”

Laurie kisses him first this time. It’s awkward, and he’s craning his neck at the wrong angle, but it weighs a lot more than any other kisses they’ve shared. More vulnerable for the both of them. When they break apart, Laurie’s eyes stray toward the clock on the bedside table: 11:59 PM.

“Time’s almost up,” Laurie sighs.

Jon holds his hand again, tightly. “Then let’s just lie here.”

Under the cover, Laurie breathes, trying to imprint this moment into his memory.

Then the clock strikes twelve.

      ➤ 1987

A week later, Laurie is back at the club. It’s easier to move through the crowd this time; it’s not San Junipero that has changed, but maybe something in him has. Or maybe he has simply come to like this place, or, at least, get used to it. He half-wants his parents to see him right now, relishing in their freak out. He thinks about sharing that thought with Jon and more; his thought has been a constant loop of “Jon” the past week, and now he can finally see him again.

Yet, Laurie can’t find him anywhere.

He checks all the booths, the arcade section, the dance floor, and then everything again before retreating to the bar and taking a seat there. He makes to order a Coke again, pausing.

“Have you seen Jon?” he asks the bartender.

“Who?”

“Jon.”

The guy shrugs. “Haven’t seen him all night.”

Laurie deflates. He glances around again, as if any moment now Jon will burst through the crowd.

The bartender takes pity. “Have you tried the Quagmire?”

Laurie frowns. “What is the Quagmire?”

The bartender grins.

The Quagmire, smackdab in the middle of nowhere in the remains of an abandoned factory that has been gutted or a warehouse, is a sex club and an underground fighting ring and God knows what else. Laurie only knows that it’s loud and grungy and alternative; and yeah, he can kind of understand why Jon has thought this would be Laurie’s scene. If it was less claustrophobic and if there were less people smashing each other against the wall and if there were less drinks being spilled around then yeah, maybe Laurie would have loved it here. As is, he’s trying his best to weave through the people, ignoring stray hands and elbows, and he’s so busy avoiding people that he actually runs straight into someone, their drink spilled all over his shirt.

“Fuck—” He stumbles back. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” the guy grumbles, making to move away then pauses suddenly. He turns back. “I know you from somewhere, right?”

Laurie blinks, making out the figure of Dan. His shirt is unbuttoned all the way, and there are trails of kisses and bites over his pale skin, and he’s pointing accusatory at Laurie.

“You’re Jon’s friend, aren’t you?”

It’s his best chance, so Laurie skips straight to the point: “Do you know where to find him?”

“How would I know that?”

“You’re his friend.”

Dan makes a face. “Was a friend,” he corrects, unkindly.

Still, “Has he been here?” Laurie pushes, desperate.

Desperate enough for Dan to read something in him apparently, because he raises his empty cup in a mocking cheer. “You too, huh? Woah.”

Laurie grits his teeth, frustration building up.

Dan holds both hands up, less confrontational now. “Hey,” he says with unexpected clarity. “Try a different time. Here in '80, the '90s, 2002 one time.” He sighs, making direct eye contact. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “He’s worth a shot, right?”

Stunned, Laurie nods.

      ➤ 1982

A week later, Laurie is scouring the bar again. He checks the arcade section first, and Adam is also there, ignoring his game of Pac-Man in favour of trying to get him into a conversation. “Golden Age, am I right?” he says, gesturing at all the games.

“Right…” Laurie scans the dance floor from here. No sign of Jon.

“Are you playing?” Adam asks.

“Sorry,” Laurie says, not meaning it. “I’m looking for someone.”

He’s already walking away when he hears Adam ask, “Maybe next time?”

      ➤ 1996

The club is less bright neon this week. Of course, Laurie thinks. That did go out of style. He moves through the club, lost.

He tries Jon’s place as well, knocking harshly on the door. He calls out his name, and the sound of waves crashing against sand is the only reply he receives.

San Junipero feels empty without Jon.

      ➤ 2002

Next week, Laurie finds himself at the club again. 2002 doesn’t seem like Jon’s year, but Dan said there’s a chance, and Laurie is not giving up any time soon. Not until he has gotten a straight answer out from Jon, or until he has gotten proof that Jon is never coming back.

The club is electronic and pop music tonight, and the clothes are obviously different. Laurie’s still in his denim jacket, having grown a certain sense of attachment to the article of clothing. The rest of his outfit is whatever; there’s no one he’s trying to impress anymore, is there?

And yet.

There, at the arcade, dancing to a remix on Dance Dance Revolution with Adam is Jon. It’s different from when he’s on the dance floor; he’s half tripping over himself trying to get the correct arrow in time, his hair bouncing up and down. He is still stupidly, annoyingly pretty.

Jon and Adam cheer at some point, high-fiving each other; the song has finished, and the robotic voice is announcing that they have gotten a new personal best, or something. Laurie couldn’t find it in himself to care, but he also cares too much. He’s getting fucking choked up just seeing Jon, for fuck’s sake.

He remains there, standing still until Jon turns over.

“Hi,” Laurie says.

Jon’s face shifts. “Bathroom,” he says to Adam, and then he’s marching off and Laurie rushes to follow.

“Hey!” He calls again, a little pissed off now. “Jon! Hey, wait a minute—”

Jon spins around, an uncharacteristic scowl on his face. “Why are you here?”

“I was looking for you,” Laurie says, accusatory. “Where did you go?”

“I like a change of music.”

It’s an obvious lie, one that Laurie is definitely calling him out for it. And then it dawns on him. “You hid from me.”

Jon rears back, like he just got slapped. “One,” he hisses. “I did not. Two, I owe you zero. And three... see point two!” And then he’s speeding off again, the door to the bathroom swinging shut with a loud bang behind his wake.

Laurie follows, undeterred. “It's not about who owes who. It's about manners.” He huffs, spinning around in place, breathing too loud in the quiet bathroom. He turns to Jon again. “You don't know who I am,” he continues. Weeks of bottled-up frustration and anger and sadness and love boiling over. “You don't know what this means.”

Jon looks at him, indignant. “This means fun,” he whispers. Then, louder: “Or it should! And this…” He gestures between himself and Laurie, taking a step closer. “This is not fun, alright? This is not fun.”

Laurie meets his gaze, as always. “So you don’t feel bad?” he asks. Jon doesn’t need to reply. Laurie goes in for the kill: “Maybe you should feel bad. Or at least feel something.”

He gets to be the one who stormed off this time. There’s no satisfaction in the action.

      ➤

Jon stares at himself in the reflection, breathing heavily. Laurie’s words play in loop in his head.

Spider-cracks spread from where he has punched the mirror with a resounding crack.

Flexing his hand is more of a muscle memory than anything at this point. The physical pain is muted; he has set the pain slider to just be low enough to be distracting. He looks back at the mirror, unbroken. At his reflection, at himself, empty.

Fuck.

He leaves the club in a hurry, finding himself in a strange role reversal, trying to find Laurie this time. He bugs a nearby couple, and when they stare up toward the roof, Jon’s eyes follow, catching sight of Laurie sitting on the edge of the building with his legs dangling over the edge. He’s looking at Laurie looking at the sky and the full moon.

He makes his way up the steel ladder, precarious. Laurie turns to look at him when he finally gets to the roof, barely acknowledging his, “Hey.” It’s not an invitation, but it’s not a refusal either, so Jon approaches. “Please tell me you got your pain slider set to zero.”

Laurie shrugs. “Think so.”

Still careful, Jon takes a seat next to Laurie. “Okay, listen—”

“How many of them are dead?” Laurie cuts in. He’s still looking down at the street, at the people having the time of their life. “Like, what percentage?”

“As in full-timers?” Laurie nods. “Eighty? Eighty-five?”

Laurie doesn’t respond.

Jon sighs. “I'm sorry.”

That catches Laurie’s attention, at least. “I'm not gonna jump,” he says.

“I know, and I'm sorry, whatever it's...” Jon sighs, trying. Making an effort to be honest, for the first time in a long time. “In the time I've been here, I said I wouldn't... I don't know, do feelings.”

He flinches when he feels Laurie’s hand on top of his.

“You freaked me out,” Jon confesses, laughing a little. “I don't want to like anyone. So you've been just... Just a totally fucking inconvenience, Laurie.”

Laurie turns to look at him, a quiet reassurance. Jon is suddenly hit with the realisation that he has missed that furrow of his eyebrows, and of the way his mouth is set to a vague frown. It’s half a monologue at this point, but Laurie deserves this at least. “I don't know how long there is,” he says. “And I can't. I wasn't prepared for you, for wanting something so—"

Laurie kisses him.

The breezes dance against Jon's skin. The waves crash against the ocean.

      ➤

Laurie sits outside on the porch, sand soft against bare feet. The moon reflects on the water, its light shimmering. Jon sits down beside him, quietly. He leans on Laurie's shoulders, breathing. Staying, thanks fuck for that.

“Next week it is,” Laurie says, casually. “I'm getting married.”

“Next week?” Jon asks, surprised. “To nice Brooke? Sure you're going through with that?”

They share a small laugh. “I have to,” admits Laurie.

“You have to?”

“She really is a good person…” Laurie sighs, craning his neck to look at Jon. “I mean, my family doesn't approve, but. They can't stop us. And… I know she pities me, and that pisses me off, but—”

Jon hushes him, pressing a gentle kiss at his temple.

Laurie melts against him, easy as that. “You said you don't know how much time there is,” he ventures. “What does that mean?”

“They tell me three months. It's spread basically everywhere.” Jon laughs, gesturing vaguely with a free hand. “They said three months before six months ago. So, you know, what do they know?”

“So you'll stay here after?”

“Nah,” Jon grins, easy. “When I'm done, I am done.”

“But that's crazy. I mean... Why?”

Jon leans in closer to his ears. “Sully,” he whispers. “My husband's name was Sully.”

“Oh.”

“He died just two years ago, so we had the opportunity to stay in San Junipero.” Jon sighs. Laurie wraps a hand around him, squeezes his shoulder. There’s a stray tear rolling down his eye that Jon quickly wipes away. “Pass over. Didn't take it. Didn't want to take it.”

“Why wouldn't anyone take it?” Laurie prompts.

“Ah, he had his viewpoint.” Jon sighs again, this time full of love. “There were things he believed and things he didn't believe in, and this place was one of them. Wouldn't even visit. Take the trial run.”

“Fuck,” Laurie says, eloquently. It’s enough to set Jon into a wet giggle, easing the tension. “I didn't know if I wanted to try it but... I mean... Jesus, without this place, I never would've met someone like you.”

“Yeah, you could have.”

He rolls his eyes. “No, I wouldn't.”

Jon is persistent. “We could have met outside all this.”

“No. You... would not have got me at all. At all.” Laurie shakes his head slightly. “If we really met, I mean... If we really met, you wouldn't like me.”

“Try me, Laurie.”

“Or you'd— You wouldn't want to spend time with me. You'd come and then—”

“Try me.” Jon smirks, never taking no for an answer.

It’s a losing battle. Still, he should at least put up a fight. “Why?” he asks. “Why? What's the point? What? Where are you? Bristol, or something?”

“Right in London. So come on,” his voice turns gentler, “where are you?”

He thinks about lying. “…Leicester.”

“That's no distance!”

“I don't want you to,” Laurie sighs. “I don't want you to see me. I'm scared—"

“And I'm dying,” Jon shoots back, easily. “Whatever you are can't scare me. Let me come visit. I want to say hi.”

      ➤ Now

Jon doesn’t mind the assisted living facility he’s in. He’s old, and weak, and he can barely do anything on his own on a good day. The attending nurse is nice though, and when he asks if he can go and visit a friend down in Leicester, they try their best to arrange something for him.

It truly is no distance at all.

The hospital that Laurie is staying at is sterile. White, with smooth design. Inoffensive, just like most technology these days. He looks up at the tall building. A harsh cough wrecks his thin frame. A gentle, caring hand rubs circles on his back patiently, until he’s done. When the fit fades away, Jon looks up through bleary eyes; Carley leans down to meet his gaze.

“Are you alright, Jon?” she asks, perfectly functionary.

The both of them know the answer to that. In lieu of saying it aloud, Jon starts to walk inside.

Someone is already waiting for Jon when he enters. “He’s waiting for you,” the doctor says, leading Jon and Carley down the hall to a secluded room. On their way, the doctor continues: “He won't be able to physically respond in any way. But he can hear you.” The door slides open. The doctor stops. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

Jon nods.

And then it is just him and Laurie, for real this time.

He walks over to the bed, hand hovering over his pale, wrinkling skin, not quite touching. Not sure if he should touch. Laurie seems so delicate like this, with all sort of tubes and machines connected to his body. His mouth is slightly agape. This is why he loves San Junipero so much, Jon realises; he can actually live and do whatever he wants over there.

It’s why Jon is so many of his first.

“Hey, stupid,” Jon says. He hooks their pinkies together, the lightest of touch. “It's good to see you.”

The machine beeps back, even.

Not able to help himself, Jon presses a kiss to Laurie’s temple again.

When he walks out, another doctor interrupts his step. She’s small, with messy hair tied up. Something about her stands out from this sterile environment, as she asks him in rushed words: “Are you Jon?”

Jon nods, holding his hand out. “I am.”

She takes it with both hands, enthusiastic but trying to keep it under wraps. “I’m Brooke.”

Oh.

“Oh,” Jon says. “You’re Brooke? Damn.”

Brooke chuckles. “Yeah, I just wanna say that I think it's great that you came down here in person,” she says. “Before he passes over, you know. Even his parents don't come visit anymore so...”

Jon blinks. “He’s passing over?”

Brooke blinks back, mouth half-opened. She bounces back quickly. “Let's go grab a coffee.”

“He didn’t tell you, I take it.”

It’s not a question. Jon shakes his head anyway, still in shock. Why didn’t Laurie say anything? “He said he was just visiting.”

“More like sampling the trial version,” Brooke says. She takes a sip of the coffee, sighing. “I mean, I've only known Laurie the past three years. We talk on the comm box.” She looks at him. “He told you how he ended up quadriplegic? And how long he's been that way?”

Jon shakes his head again. How have they talked so much about everything, and yet also not enough about anything as well?

“One night, he's 21, comes out to his parents. They're a little uptight about it, you might say,” Brooke huffs. “They told him they don't want a gay son. It's not natural and so forth. They fight. He gets in his car.” She shrugs, swirling what’s left of his coffee around in the cup. “Runs it off the road. Boom!”

“When he was 21?”

“More than 40 years back,” Brooke nods. “It's been his whole lifetime, basically. So the whole San Junipero system has been a big deal for him. The biggest deal!” She leans over the table. “Of course now, until he passes over, it goes permanent, he's on a five-hour weekly limit. I guess you're the same.”

Jon shrugs, half-way processing everything. “They ration it out. They don't trust us with more.”

“They say you go crazy if you have too much, you know? You don't leave your seat. You disassociate body from mind.”

Jon laughs. “Like that doesn't happen in every senior home already,” he sighs, tired. “The system's there for therapeutic reasons. Immersive nostalgia therapy. Plunge you into a world of memories. Helps with Alzheimer's, that's what they say.”

“Small mercies,” Brooke murmurs, draining her cup.

“So, about this marriage…”

“The gov’s got a triple lockdown on euthanasia cases. You gotta have a sign-off from the doc, the patient, a family member. It's to stop people from passing over just because they prefer San Junipero flat out,” she intones. “Anyhow, Laurie's family… Well, you know how it is. And they will not sign.”

“But a spouse can override them,” Jon completes. “Hence the wedding bells.”

Brooke shoots him two finger guns, clicking her tongue. “We got a pastor coming tomorrow morning, and then he's scheduled to pass tomorrow afternoon.”

Jon scoffs. “Let's just call it dying.”

“If you can call it dying.”

Jon shrugs. It’s a fair point. “You're a good person,” he says instead.

She chuckles. “I never married so I just figured, you know, what's the harm? It's the least I could do, right?”

“Right.” They fall back to silence. Around them, people bustle around the cafeteria. Then Jon looks up, a glint in his eyes. “Think you could hook us up to the system now? Just for a little while, before he passes?”

Brooke blinks at him, bemused. “You can still see him afterwards,” she points out. “I mean, then he's no limit. He's full, fat, permanent San Juniperan then.”

“I know, but can you?”

Her look fades into a frown. “Seriously, it is so tight here that they monitor every—”

“Brooke, please.”

And because she’s a good person, she crumbles easily. “You got five minutes.”

      ➤

Laurie is standing on the beach. Jon catches him looking around in wonderment, and when Laurie notices him, he says loudly: “I've never been here during the daylight.” He walks over, a smile on his face. “It’s warm.”

“Yeah. Listen, I gotta be quick. So I spoke to Brooke.”

Laurie freezes up. “Oh,” he says.

“You're passing over tomorrow?”

He shrugs. “Couple of hours after the wedding. So I guess I am technically honeymooning here forever,” he chuckles slightly, before his tone turns serious again. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you.”

Jon hushes him. “I'm gonna say something crazy,” he says, to Laurie but also to a younger him, and to Sully, and— Anyway. There’s no time. He gets on a knee, taking Laurie’s hand and holding it close. “Wanna marry me instead?”

“What?”

“Look,” Jon justifies. He doesn’t have to, but he feels like he should anyway. “Brooke seems great, but... Why not someone you've connected with?”

Laurie is stunned for a second, and then he’s almost doubling over laughing. It’s the first time that he has laughed like this in front of Jon, and yeah. This is the right choice. “Is that a yes?” he asks through his own bout of laughter.

Laurie falls to his knees, and his hands are by the side of Jon’s face as he presses their lips together in a desperate kiss. Jon can taste the appreciation on his tongue. “Of course it is, you fucking idiot,” Laurie murmurs.

The wedding is a quiet affair.

The passing over, even more so. There’s no pastor in the room, no beeping of machines. Only Laurie, there for one moment, and then gone in the next.

But he isn’t gone, is he?

      ➤ 1987

Jon adjusts his suit as he speeds down the road. He can just be there, of course, but there’s something indulgent about the flowers adorning his car and the clanking of metal cans from behind. When he’s close enough to the beach to see Laurie still wandering on the sand, he honks a few times loudly before standing up and waving.

When Laurie walks over to him, his smile is wide. He claps his hands together in a childlike joy.

“You didn’t dress up to see me?” Jon teases. “Come on, now!”

Jon blinks and Laurie is dressed in a nice dark navy suit. “Better?” he asks, sarcastically.

“Much,” Jon agrees.

They party through the night, dancing along to those songs that Jon knows by heart at this point. Except this time, he’s with Laurie, and Laurie is actually staying on the dance floor with him, moving with him, and it’s good. It’s good, Jon thinks, as he drives them back with music blasting loudly. As he watches Laurie marvels at the sand and the waves and the hood of the car.

“It’s so real,” he says, for the nth time tonight. “Oh, I love it here!”

“You've been here before,” Jon points out, amused.

“Yeah,” Laurie shrugs. “But now I live here!” He turns to Jon suddenly, looking up at him with bright eyes. “Be with me.”

Jon laughs a bit. “I'm with you now.”

“That's not what I mean. Pass over.” He takes Jon’s hand. “When it's your time—”

“Laurie.”

“—Stay here with me.”

He sighs, annoyance creeping in. The mood sours. “Can we just enjoy tonight?”

“It's almost midnight,” Laurie points out. “In ten minutes, you're out of here. Then I gotta wait a week to see you again.”

“You know I'm just a visitor.”

“What, a couple of months, then what?”

“We're not discussing this.”

“Then you're gone!” Laurie pauses. “Just gone... You could have forever.”

“Forever?” Jon rolls his eyes. “Who can even make sense of forever?”

“However long you want then. I mean, you can remove yourself,” Laurie snaps his fingers, “like that. It's not a trap.”

Enough is enough. Jon makes to slide off the hood of the car, not knowing where to go but only knowing he’d rather stay away only for Laurie to grasp at him again.

“Hey, this is real. It’s real. And this,” he gestures at the wedding band, “is also real.”

“Come on. You know that was just a gesture.”

“You married me!”

“To help you pass over!” Jon shouts. He breathes heavily. “As a... kindness! Not—”

“It’s not so kind to leave.”

Jon steps back anyway. The suit feels too tight now, the ties suffocating. He tugs at the collar.

“Okay, look, look, I'm sorry, I just...” Laurie sighs. “I got this chance. We got this chance. I wanna share it with you.”

“I said I made my choice.”

“What is it? You feel bad because your husband isn't here?”

Dead silence. Jon has been trying to play nice but that— “Don’t,” he grits through clenched teeth.

“Because that was his choice,” Laurie whispers. He must have known that he had crossed a line. How does he keep on going with this? “He chose not to stay here. It's like he left you.” His words quicken, all come pouring out in a rush. “You know, he could have stayed, but he chose to leave you.

He’s shaking, fists clenched. “You don't know what you're saying.”

“You should be mad at him,” Laurie exclaims. “Not whipping yourself with guilt.”

He goes to take Jon’s hand again; Jon shoves him away. “Get off me.”

“You can't see it! But what he did, it was selfish actually!”

The slap takes him by surprise as much as it does Laurie. He doesn’t regret it. “I was with Sully for 49 years. 49 years! You can't begin to imagine. You can't know...” He gets closer, spitting the words out. “The bond, the commitment, the boredom, the yearning, the laughter, the love of it.” He chokes a laugh. “The fucking love. You just cannot know! Everything we sacrificed! The years I gave him; The years he gave me.”

Laurie tries to say something; Jon doesn’t let him. “We had a daughter. Always difficult, always beautiful. Died at 39 years old, bless her heart. Fuck! And Sully and I, we felt that heartbreak as one.”

“I didn’t—”

“You think you're the only person ever suffered, Laurie? Go fuck yourself.”

“Well, I didn't know—”

“And did you think to ask? Did it occur to you to ask?” Jon laughs, loud and high and out of it. “You know, when he was dying, Sully said to me when they offered him this, to pass over, pass through, spend eternity in this fucking graveyard you're so in love with, he said, "How can I? When she missed out, how can I?" And so he went.” He shrugs, tired. “And I wish I could believe he's with her now, that they're together, but I don't.”

He draws a breath, deep. “I believe they're nowhere. Just like you said. Gone.”

Laurie makes a move to maybe hug him, or God— Whatever it is, Jon can’t deal with it right now.

“Don’t you dare,” he continues. “No, I pitied you, and that's the truth. I pitied you. Now you give me some sales pitch about how fucking peachy forever could be!”

“I’m sorry!”

“You wanna spend forever somewhere nothing matters? End up like Dan? All those lost fucks at the Quagmire trying anything to feel something, go ahead. But I'm out.” He turns, jumping into the car. “I'm gone.”

He steps on the pedal, only catching the first half of Laurie’s desperate apology. He roars down the road, a hand coming up to wipe the tears streaming from his eyes. He truly wants out, fuck. He wants to crawl out of his own skin just to get away; Jon steps down on the gas harder.

He tumbles down the sand, glass shattering around him as he collides hard with the ground. Jon lies there, panting into the open air. It doesn’t hurt; fucking stupid pain slider. He looks up at the sky.

Distantly, he realises Laurie is here, and that he’s reaching a hand out to tug him back up. And Jon thinks he’s reaching back as well, but before they touch, the clock strikes twelve.

      ➤ Now

Jon blinks back to reality, rasping hard. He looks around, seeing Carley also leaning back on her chair, drifting off.

He sighs.

It was supposed to be fun, he thinks. How the fuck did it come to this?

      ➤ Later

Carley comes and checks up on him. Always, like clockwork, she says: “Hey Jon, you alright?” and most days, Jon replies, “I’m good.”

Today, he remains quiet. The wind breezes past them. In the distance, the bird chirps.

      ➤ 2002

Clear, blue water washes over Laurie’s feet; he has never gotten over how real and warm San Junipero is during the day. It’s quieter, really. That’s the main difference. Less visitors.

Laurie sighs.

Or maybe his life is just quieter without Jon.

      ➤ Later

Just living is painful these days. Jon can’t do much anymore, but he can still hold a picture of Sully close and look at him, tracing his laugh lines. Next to him, Carley is monitoring his heart rate.

“Well,” Jon says, finally. “Alright then.”

“Jon?” Carley hums.

“All things considered... I guess I'm ready.”

“For what?”

Jon shrugs. “The rest of it.”

      ➤ 1987

The night falls as Laurie floors it, humming along to the song from the cassette player. His fingers tap along the beat against the steering wheel as he swerves along the winding road. In the distance, the coast reveals itself to him. Closer, the white beach house.

He parks in the front, and decides to be obnoxious about it today and honks a few times.

When Jon walks out, he looks annoyed and in love, and annoyed that he’s in love. The look makes Laurie’s heart skip a beat as it always does. “Hey,” he says. “There you are.”