Paul Burton
Splat: Mortal
Public Information:
Paul Burton spent his entire life holding on too tightly. To the people he loved, to the past, to the version of himself that he never quite got to be. He spent more of his youth in hospital beds than in his own. He was furious when his best friend (and source of pain relief) disappeared, and even more furious when he came back.
The hard years passed. He apologized to Jaime, finally admitting that his emotions had been too wounded to accept anything clearly. They tentatively built a life together. They got married.
He’s spent the last few years learning how to relax. He used to be the kind of person who held tension in his shoulders, who always looked like he was bracing for something. But these days, life is steady. He and Jaime have a house together — their house, in a quiet neighborhood with good neighbors and a backyard big enough for the dog they keep talking about getting. His work as a librarian is fulfilling, and he’s started leading weekend hiking groups for others living with chronic pain.
And when Paul looks at his husband now, he doesn’t think about the friend he once lost. He doesn’t think about the anger or the doubt. He thinks about the man who finally stayed.
He likes coming home to a familiar face, a warm meal, a shared life. Maybe there are moments, when the streetlights flicker overhead, where something cold creeps in. A question he doesn’t want to ask. A feeling that if he thinks too hard about certain things, the whole foundation might crack.
But the feeling passes. It always does.