Page 157 of Demons Dig Donuts

“Indy,” Mr. Heiss said, his voice thick with worry as he held Indy close. “Is that blood?”

Indy wheezed and clutched at his chest, trying not to panic. “Raph, I…”

There was no going back.

This was it.

What more could Indy offer to a demon baring his soul than doing the same in return?

“I am terrified that I’m about to fuck up everything when I tell you this,” Indy whispered, gasping softly. “Because maybe I’m wrong. Shit. I might ruin fucking everything and you might fucking hate me.” He coughed and grimaced miserably. “I don’t want to be wrong, but it’s never going to be the fucking same and—”

“One thing I have learned in my very, very long life is this,” Mr. Heiss soothed. “Yes, things may change. But sometimes that change is necessary. Yes, it is true that they may never be the same, but that itself is an opportunity. With change comes the chance for them to be better.”

Indy searched Mr. Heiss’s face, some tortured part of his brain still certain this was a trick. It had to be a lie, like the lies of the Celestial, the lies of his own family and friends saying they’d always be there only to vanish when Indy hit absolute rock bottom. And yet, Indy found no sign of trickery or deceit, which he knew demons were great at hiding, so the only part of himself he could trust was his heart.

And his heart…

It had already decided some time ago, so he let himself listen.

Fuck it.

“Okay, I’m dying,” Indy blurted out, the words followed by a short sob. “I have advanced lung adenocarcinoma. Cancer. I have fucking cancer. They gave me five years, and well, well, I said fuck that. It’s why I found all of Gammy’s magical shit and summoned a demon and made a deal with Mr Kalt. I didn’t want to die. I still don’t! And, and I didn’t want to tell you because, ha, the whole Artifact thing and thinking you’d just let me die to get it for yourself. And because, wow, I think I actually found something I’m more afraid of than dying. And it’s, it’s that you might never feel the same way about me that I do about you. Because, because, hey, surprise, you’re an asshole!

“But you’re my asshole. You’re sweet, you’re thoughtful, you make me laugh, too, and I like listening to you talk. I like watching TV with you and eating food and just, like, hanging out. So, yeah, sorry for lying and shit. I guess I’m the asshole now, and yup. My turn. Yay. That’s it. There you go. Sorry for lying about being, like, all terminal and whatever.” He took a deep breath. “And okay, just so you know, if it turns out I’m wrong and you’re really gonna let me die, then know I will haunt you for fucking ever and—”

Mr. Heiss kissed him.

Slow but firm.

Loving.

And then Mr. Heiss said, “It’s all right.”

“But—” Indy scoffed. “I lied to you. About everything!”

Mr. Heiss smiled. “And…?”

“And what? What the fuck?”

“I already knew.”

CHAPTER

TWENTY-ONE

“You already knew—” Indy squealed, gagging on his own spit and maybe some blood. “You—” He pulled away from Mr. Heiss as he tried to cough and get it out, his face flushing hot as his body worked to send everything upstairs and save his brain.

Mr. Heiss clapped a big hand on Indy’s back. “Breathe!”

“I’m—trying!” Indy wheezed, glaring at Mr. Heiss through watery eyes.

It felt like his ribs were curling into his lungs, creating a new level of misery he couldn’t escape. The tiniest attempt to draw breath only increased the pressure, and his head grew light as he remained trapped in a horrible stalemate between the need to draw in more oxygen to keep himself alive and desperately trying to escape the pain.

A quick cough brought momentary relief, but only in that he was able to get a bit of air. The agony that followed made the room blur, and tears streamed down his face as his body burned. Everything was getting fuzzy as his muscles seized up, and he didn’t think he could bring himself to take another breath.

Fuck…

Was this it?