White Lips Kissed

Chapter 1

I strolled down the sidewalk cheerfully whistling; feeling absolutely fantastic about myself and about life in general. That’s the kind of thing drinking did to me, and probably what it does for most people. I hadn’t had too many though, just enough to keep myself from thinking about the fight I had recently had with Chris. It was nothing too major, but I had just really needed to escape and think by myself for a while. Well, by myself surrounded by about one hundred drunks. Which, in a way, was the same as being alone.

But now I was tired of solitude. I wanted to go back home and apologize to Chris because I felt like a million bucks and couldn’t have cared less about protecting my pride. I would whisper a heartfelt sorry in his ear and he would hug me and repeat the same word back. Then we would spend the rest of the evening holding each other tightly and watching old movies. Nothing was going to bring me down.

At least, that is how I imagined things would happen. But when I turned the corner onto our street, the lovely pictures I had painted in my head for the evening were torn to shreds. I knew immediately what had happened. Many times you will read books or watch movies where a victim’s family and friends will be in complete denial of the fate of their loved one. But I wasn’t like that. From the instant I rounded the corner, I could just tell.

At first it was just a figure my eyes picked up on; a dark form lying on the sidewalk. I calmly walked up to it and recognized that is was the body of a man, curled up like a young child and bleeding profusely. I didn’t have to be a doctor to know that he was dead. In the cloud covered sky of the evening, I still couldn’t make out the face of the man. But I knew who he was. An instinctual pang of suffering shot through my heart, and I just knew.

I crept closer, not wanting to disturb the peace of the poor soul. All I could think of as I stared at him was how good he had been to me. Chris was the best man anyone could ever hope to have. And now he was lying there, in a pile of blood that still stood out a bright crimson on the grayish sidewalk. This told me that his life had been stolen from him quite recently, probably a split second before I rounded that corner.

I suddenly recalled seeing the shadow of a man running away from the scene just as I laid eyes on it. Clearly he had been the killer. I considered running off in the same direction in search of him. But I knew that was pointless. He would be long gone by then. I stared more intently at the lifeless body in front of me. I noticed stab wounds through his chest and stomach area. Blood still poured from them. It was making its way towards my shoes. I took a step back.

His face was so pale, almost ghost like. I couldn't look for long though, because the expression on his face was too horrifying for me to tolerate. But at the same time, I still did not truly feel anything. There was that pain in my heart, but it was more like a dull throb at the moment. I decided that the paleness of Chris was more angel like than ghost like. This made me feel better. I almost smiled at the thought. And now there was one more thing I had to do.

I slowly knelt beside him, careful not to stain myself with his blood, and gave him a kiss on the lips. They were cold and lifeless but they felt amazing all the same. Now I did smile. I was ready. I took my phone out of my back pocket and called the police. I told them where to come, and they arrived quickly. I watched calmly as they carried my sweet angel away. Some of them asked if I was okay. I told them no, but that I would be shortly. They gave me their condolences and left the scene. I left it too.

I climbed the stairs to our apartment and walked inside. For a long moment I stood and stared at it. I gazed at the life at all the things that once represented the life we shared together. Now they were reminders that I was alone. The word bounced around in my head. Alone. Yes, I concluded, I was alone. And then a true, searing pain ripped through my heart.

I lost it completely. I tore every book, video game, and knickknack off of the shelves. I threw everything from every drawer onto the ground. I broke anything I could. A vase. A lamp. A picture frame. Another vase. About ten more picture frames. I took the pictures inside of the frames and ripped the up. With each tear I had to have more. I stalked off to our room and grabbed all of our photo albums. I took every photo out individually and tore it up.

Soon little pieces of memories were scattered all over the floor. But yet there were still so many more. I thought up a better, more efficient way. I went to the kitchen and grabbed the box of matches from one of the cupboards. How fortunate I felt to have a fireplace at that moment. Chris had wanted that, when we were searching for a place together so long ago. He was so thrilled when he saw one here. But we never had much opportunity to use it.

Until now. I grabbed the remaining albums and threw them into the fireplace. I took out a match and struck it on the side of the box. I tossed it in among the piles of photos. They ignited immediately. I sat down on the floor and watched all our memories burn.

Eventually the flame slowly shriveled and then died. Just like Chris had. Then I cried. I sat there and cried until no more tears could flow from my eyes. And then I slowly laid down on the floor and sobbed. I went to sleep that way. I could have gotten up and collapsed onto the bed if I had wanted to. But that was our bed. I wasn't going to sleep in our bed, not without the other half of us. So I slept on the cold, hard floor, the sobs coming from my throat acting as a sort of lullaby. A lullaby to my pain and to my sorrow, to my suffering and torment.



Chapter 2

I woke up dazed and confused. Sunlight streamed in from somewhere and blinded me as I tried to open my eyes. I rubbed my face. I felt hung over. But I knew that I hadn't drunk anywhere near enough for that. My head throbbed as I tried to recall the previous night. I finally got my eyes to open. They felt so dry. I deduced that I must have been crying, and quite a good deal, too. This must be the reason for my headache, I thought. I wasn't accustomed to crying so much or so hard.

The sun was still prohibiting me from viewing my surroundings. I lifted my hand to protect my sensitive eyes from the harsh light. It worked well enough. I began to take note of where I was. A few things in particular caught my attention. The stone fireplace. And a huge mess on the floor. Shattered glass, torn papers, and other various items littered the hardwood. It looked like a mini hurricane had hit. However, I did notice one corner of the room that was completely untouched.

There was a desk. Everything on it was perfectly arranged in a specific manner. This was an obvious clue to me that the desk was not mine. I sat up and felt my muscles protest this action. Floors were not the most comfortable places to lie. I didn't think I had the strength to stand. But I wanted to investigate that desk. So I attempted to crawl. That was a horrible idea. I sliced my hand on a jagged piece of glass.

But the sudden pain cleared the fogginess from my mind. I remembered everything now. Rounding the corner. Seeing the figure. Knowing it was Chris. Kissing his angelic form for the last time then watching him get taken away. Climbing the stairs. Entering our apartment and standing there for who knows how long. And then the rampage I went on. I didn't regret it at all. None of that shit mattered without Chris to share it with.

Except the desk. The desk mattered, because it was all Chris's. That was the one thing we didn't share. He never forbade me from looking through it, or using it, but all the same I knew that it was his. That was where he worked. That was where he, as a hopeful songwriter, would sit for hours, trying to think up some ingenious new lyric. It was where he would cry out in frustration after many hours and lay his head down in defeat.

It was also where I would come up from behind and wrap my arms around him, whenever he felt hopeless. It was where I would give him a peck on the cheek for encouragement. It was there in that corner where I would rub my hand gently along his smooth cheek and tell him he was brilliant. And sitting at that little desk in the corner, Chris would turn to me with appreciative eyes and thank me. I was always welcomed into that corner. It made me realize that we even shared the things that were ours alone.

This made me feel alright about crawling the rest of the way to the desk, being wary of any more stray shards of glass, and opening the desk's drawers. There were no secrets with us. I had a special space too, a small drawer next to our bed. It was my drawer, but Chris knew everything that was inside. I informed him every time I took a memento of somewhere we visited or something we did together. "This is going into that drawer," I would say, and he would smile.

The first two drawers were filled with papers, all organized by date. Each paper contained varying amounts of messy writing. One drawer was filled with little notes to remind Chris of some interview or party or deadline. I remembered clearly waking many a morning to find a paper taped to the bathroom mirror, or coming home to find one slapped onto the front door.

Another was filled with song lyrics and song ideas. I smiled a little as I looked through them. None of these papers were new to my eyes. So many times had I woken up to the smell of ink and a paper being held an inch away from my face by a wildly grinning Chris. "I thought this up last night!" he would exclaim, and then proceed to beg for my critique on his work.

I put them neatly back where they originated from. Then I moved on to the final drawer. Upon first glance, it contained only writing utensils. Pens and pencils perfectly lined up side by side. But I gave it a closer look, and noticed a small compartment in the back. I felt around in the dark and pulled out some more papers. These, however, were different. The words were typed rather than written. I began to read them.

They were letters. But not friendly letters from a relative or an old friend. No, these were hate letters. My stomach turned and I felt nauseous. Chris had never mentioned these. But yesterday afternoon he had confided in me about one of the neighbors who was beginning to scare him. A man called Francis, he had said.

He told me with great fear in eyes about a time about a month ago when this man had confronted him and warned him of the consequences of Chris's "lifestyle." He told me of how the man had spit out hateful words about how Chris was unnatural and disgusting. And then he had told Chris that he would pay for his terrible actions.

I shivered as I read through each letter. Every one was more vicious than the last. Chris had never actually shown me these letters before, but as I read them I realized that he had actually told me some of the things they said. I felt a sharp pain spread through me as I recalled that this was the way our argument had started.

He had been in near tears, trying in vain to explain to me how afraid he was of the threats he had been receiving. I had just brushed them off like they were nothing. It was the twenty first century, I had reasoned. This kind of thing didn't happen anymore.

But Chris just wouldn't let the matter go. He was sincerely scared. And what did I do? I yelled at him. I told him to shut the hell up, to stop being so damn paranoid. I think he must have tried to show me the letters, because he had gone over to the desk. I told him I didn't want or need to see whatever it is he wanted to show me. Then I had stormed out without looking back.

I felt tears building up in my eyes and I brushed them away. No amount of crying was going to resolve this horrible thing that the man had done; this horrible thing that I had done. Yes, I could admit it to myself. I had a hand in this murder as well. This tragedy was partially my own fault. It made me sick to acknowledge it, but I would rather be sick than in denial.

Now that I had accepted the facts, I needed some sort of resolution. If I couldn’t save Chris’s life, surely I could avenge his death, I thought. I perused each and every letter multiple times. I had to force myself not to look away. I fought back against my growing nausea. Finally I found something I could use. A careless mistake in the last letter. The use of a full name.

It was signed largely and defiantly at the bottom of the page. Francis Rebbs. Clearly he had meant for this to be the last letter, or he would not have been so bold. How ridiculous, I thought, for him to assume no one else would ever find these letters. This last name Rebbs was all I needed.

My mind began to work in high gear. It was almost instinctual; I hardly remember the thought process. But I do know that one word, revenge, was etched firmly into my head. I would have my revenge against this awful man.



Chapter 3

I crinkled up all the letters and threw them on the ground. Sure, I could have just handed them over to the police. It would be key evidence in convicting this Francis bastard. But I needed to take care of it myself. It was my personal responsibility; the only way to wash my hands from any blood guilt.

I ran blindly around the apartment, tossing things around, until I found my laptop. I opened it and immediately begun searching for information about Francis Rebbs. The internet is an amazing thing. With just a few clicks I found the man’s address. He was indeed a neighbor just as Chris had said. And a very close one at that, which was convenient.

He lived just three buildings down, apartment 2B. I smiled. I couldn’t help it. The plan was so perfect. Within a few minutes the rest of my research was complete. A package would arrive in the mail within a couple of weeks. I would not, unfortunately, be able to use its contents until some months had passed. But I could wait. I had nothing but time.

I did, however, have to get started right away. I prepared to go out. I took a shower, brushed my hair, put on fresh clothes, and even shaved. I wanted to pull this off with every loose end tied up. If I in any way hinted at my true intentions, my goal would never be achieved.

I practically skipped down the stairs of my building and I began to whistle as soon as I made contact with the fresh air outside. Even though it was not yet noon, the sun was hot and I was glad that I didn’t have far to travel. It would not be beneficial to the plan for me to show up sweaty and disgusting to my destination.

Just a few strides later I had arrived at the proper building and I entered it, welcoming the cool air conditioning on my face. I climbed the stairs to the second floor and knocked a little ditty on the wood door of room 2B. I didn’t hear anything.

For a split second I worried that Francis might have fled the area. But that was ridiculous, I reasoned. A man who would be so bold as to sign his name at the end of an incriminating letter was not the type to flee after committing a murder. My reasoning proved accurate when the door opened a crack, revealing a sliver of a face.

“May I help you?” he asked me. His voice was so calm, so normal. It had a pleasant ring to it that most girls probably found appealing.

“Well, the word around town is that you are new here. So I thought I might come and introduce myself. My name is Benjamin Stark. It is good to meet you, Mr. Francis…erm….” I feigned ignorance in this regard.

“Rebbs. Francis Rebbs. It is good to meet you as well, Mr. Stark.”

“Nonsense! Call me Ben. And may I be so bold as to ask your permission to come inside? I would like some friendly conversation with you, if that is alright. I don’t mean to be rude, but the word is that you are quite the loner. I thought that maybe you could use a friend here.” I spoke smoothly and sociably. I made sure to smile, too. I was the perfect neighbor.

Francis looked a bit taken aback at first by my directness. But then he smiled back and opened the door all of the way. I walked inside and pretended to admire the place. I nodded towards various items, complimenting them. He thanked me and his smile grew just a bit wider. I was succeeding already.

He offered me a seat on his hideously upholstered couch. It looked like a cat had coughed up hairballs onto it. “Lovely design on this couch,” I told him. Now he was grinning. “Thank you. Hey, how about I start the kettle and we can chat over tea.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I said, returning the grin.

A minute or so later he returned and sat in a chair adjacent to the couch. It looked as though it had been picked out by someone who was quite blind. It thoroughly clashed with the couch.
“All of your furniture is so well-matched. Did you use a professional designer?”

“No, I did it all myself.”

He looked so proud of it that I almost laughed. “How did you manage that?” I asked, faking my interest completely. He went on and on about his process for designing the rooms of his home. I nodded and pretended to listen and even to care about what he was saying. All the while, I closely examined him.

Everything about him was streamline, clean cut. He dressed well. His clothing expressed nothing but confidence from every fiber. His brown hair was combed neatly, perfectly framing the topmost section of his face. His face itself was pleasant to look at, or so it must’ve been to most people, anyways. When I looked at it I could see nothing but Chris’s lifeless form in every little crease.

His eyes were something else. They were a deep blue and expressed everything a woman must love to see. Kindness, intelligence, confidence and compassion. And yet all I could see was in them was the murderous hatred of an evil man.

He cut short his rambling to answer the shrill cry of the kettle. Soon he returned with two steaming cups of tea. He handed me mine and I thanked him warmly. I took a few sips, to be polite. My taste buds registered the pleasant taste of the hot beverage but I somehow missed the actual taste of it. My senses were dulled to their fullest extent. I wasn’t subhuman. Chris was dead; that fact would never leave me no matter what I did, and I had to react to it in some way.

“Good tea,” I said. I struck up a new conversation in a sickeningly friendly tone. “So, how are you liking it around here?”

“It’s nice enough, I suppose. There is one man I am not particularly fond of. But I don’t think I will be having any more problems with him anymore.” I was shocked. Clearly he was speaking of Chris, with such openness that I knew he regretted nothing. He sipped casually at his tea. I couldn’t believe his nonchalance. But I stayed calm. I had to.

“Oh really? That’s too bad. But I’m glad you won’t be having any more issues like that. I promise most of the people here are quite pleasant.”

“Well, if they are anything like you then I believe it. I’ve never experienced such neighborly treatment before.” He was clearly impressed by my actions. His blue eyes shined with joy.

I smiled. “It’s the least I could do. But to tell you the truth, I am acting a bit out of selfish interest. I don’t have many friends.”

“I’m surprised to hear that!”

I laughed off the compliment. “Well, I did have one close companion. But he’s….no longer around.”

“Oh I see.”

I stood, having finished my tea. I was suddenly unbearably uncomfortable with the situation. I was discussing the murder of the man I loved with his murderer. It was so backwards. I felt my nausea returning.

“Well, I have bothered you enough,” I joked. “It was nice to meet you Francis.”

“Before you go, take my number” he said. He scribbled a phone number on a scrap piece of paper and handed it to me. My stomach churned as I recognized the writing to be the same as that was on the last letter to Chris.

“Every Saturday I watch football on the telly. Give me a call Saturday if you want to join me,” he added with a friendly smile.

I returned the gesture. “Sure,” I replied.

Then I got the hell out of there. I sighed with relief once I was outside the building again. Despite the heat of the sun, the air-conditioned place had felt far more stifling than the outdoors did. I stopped off at a pup to calm my nerves. Then I sat around the torn up apartment, just waiting for Saturday to roll around.



Chapter 4

Finally the day came and I called up Francis bright and early. The last thing I wanted to do was spend a day watching football with any person, much less this lowlife. But I spoke sweetly on the phone and made plans to be at his house by noon.

I arrived with snacks and beer. I had no idea what to do at this kind of thing, but that stuff seemed to do the trick. He grinned and grabbed them from me immediately. He told me to go sit on the couch, and he went into the kitchen. While I sat there, he prepared the food and soon brought it out in two large bowls. He handed one to me and smiled.

“I haven’t done this with anyone in a long time,” he admitted. “It’s nice.”

I flashed him a friendly smile. “I haven’t done this with anyone, ever” I admitted sheepishly.

“Never?” he replied, sounding stunned.

I shrugged. “Football isn’t really my thing. But it is just nice to hang out with another human being once in a while.” Human being, hah. I allowed myself an internal laugh. How ridiculous it was to call this man human, after what he did.

“It is nice,” he agreed. Then he turned up the television and we both sat quietly watching the game. Not that I was really watching it. Everywhere I looked was Chris’s lifeless body and angelic face. Occasionally I would be shook out of my trance by a shout of excitement from Francis. This must have meant his team of choice was doing well.

But other than that, we said not a word to each other until the game ended, an eternity or so later. This made me angry. It wasn't that I wanted to talk to Francis. No, that was the last thing I wanted to do. But I kept replaying the sound of Chris’s voice. Chris was always a talker. He could ramble on for hours, and I loved it. It infuriated me that such a bubbly personality had been destroyed, rather than this disgustingly dull one that was sitting beside me.

Finally Francis turned off the tv. The game must’ve ended, I realized. I sighed heavily and stretched. He turned to me. “That was some game, huh?”

“Oh yeah,” I replied, with as much enthusiasm as I could manage. “We should do this again sometime.” I had to force those words out. My entire being rejected them. But I knew I had to do this.

He nodded excitedly. “Yes, that would be great!”

“Cool,” I said. I smiled. I think I had smiled more in these past few days than I had in all the time I had been with Chris. It made me want to jump Francis and put an end to him right then and there. To think he should be the one receiving my smiles.

Instead I stood up and said my goodbyes. As soon as I was out of the building I began to run. Running has d always been something I enjoyed, especially when I felt trapped and out of options. I ran hard and fast, for who knows how long. I ran all around town and then out of town completely. There was a large, open field to my left. I decided to run through it. The grass was a deep, lush green and it seemed to welcome my sneakers to stomp through it. I changed directions abruptly and began to run across it.

I ran faster and faster until I was spiriting. There was a hill and I made every muscle in my leg work at its maximum ability to climb it. I didn’t decrease my speed once I reached the top. If anything I increased it. Soon gravity took over and I was running down the other side impossibly fast. I tripped. I could have easily caught myself, but I didn’t bother. I allowed myself to fall to the ground hard.

My clothes were stained green from the grass and were splattered with mud. I let out a loud yell, just because. It felt amazing. I had never felt more stress in my entire life than I had felt hanging out with Francis. This had seemed like a great way to let all that tension escape me. It worked like magic. Good feelings began to creep into my bones and throbbing muscles. I felt better than I had all week.

Calmly I stood up and brushed myself off. I walked ever so causally back home. It was a long trip. I had run a good four miles or so. But the long walk worked well as a cool down from my extensive workout. By the time I entered our place I was exhausted and content. I didn’t make any food, I hardly ever ate anymore. I simply collapsed on our couch and slept.

Although it was hours in reality, it felt like only minutes before I groggily awoke to my cell phone vibrating in my pocket. “Hello?” I asked, in no mood for conversation.

“Hey it’s Francis.”

My stomach turned and I sat up immediately. I felt I might be sick. I took a slow, deep breath. Then I managed to speak. “Oh, hey. What’s up?”

“I got these tickets….to a football match. It’s next Saturday. I know you don’t really care for it, but I thought it might be a different experience to watch a game in person, rather than through some television set.”

I groaned inwardly. Another football game to watch? And his time at an actual arena. Which meant thousands of screaming fans, not to mention Francis himself. “That sounds like it could be fun,” I lied. “I would love to go.” I could practically hear his award winning, girl attracting, sinister smile through the phone.

“Okay. Be at my place at eight on Saturday.”

“Alright.” I couldn’t make myself add any more pleasantries. I just hung up and tossed my phone across the room. I hoped that somewhere, somehow, Chris could see this and realize just how much I had loved him and just how much I still did. And that I would do anything to avenge his death, even spend my day at a football match while bonding with his murderer.

I rolled my eyes and heaved a sigh. “Oh gee, is it Saturday yet?”



Chapter 5

Unfortunately, Saturday arrived before I knew it. All week I had been trying desperately to get my bearings. I was finding it harder and harder to keep myself together emotionally and mentally. I had begun to have horrible nightmares that I just couldn’t shake even after I woke up. It got to the point where I forced my eyes to stay open all night long, just to avoid the horrible images in my dreams.

Pointlessly, I had set my alarm for 7AM that morning. I turned it off, and then turned off the random television show I had been watching. I took a hot shower to relieve some of my tension. Then I prepared for the misery that I was going to have to deal with.

I put on my favorite shirt, the one that Chris had always told me he loved. As soon as I remembered that, I stripped it off and threw it across the room. Then I put on my second favorite shirt, and a pair of jeans. I felt chilled, so I added my jacket. I still had time to kill.

I turned to stare out a window and what I saw made me groan loudly. Rain was coming down heavily from some ominous looking clouds. Puddles covered the streets. Now I would have to spend a whole day, watching football, bonding with Chris’s murderer, in the rain. Angrily I stalked over to my hall closet and tossed things around until I found my rain parka.

The last time I had worn it was over five years ago. The first time I kissed Chris. It was all such a blur to me. We were walking back from some outdoor concert. The rain was coming down so hard I could barely even see. It was still late afternoon; the show had ended early do to the excessive rainfall. There was mud too, a lot of it.

I don’t remember who slipped first but one was quickly followed by the other and we both ended up sprawled on the ground, covered in mud, next to each other. We lay there laughing until tears streamed down our faces. Then I just looked at him and I had to do it.

This kiss only lasted a few seconds but I think it is fair to say that those were some of the happiest seconds of my life. His lips were white with cold from the pouring rain but they felt like perfection against my own. Nothing since then had ever compared to that day. The first day we were more than he and I. The first day that “we” became “us”. Except now there was no us. There wasn’t even he and I. There was only me.

I looked at the parka with disgust. I didn’t want memories of a day with Francis to mix with the amazing memories I had in it with Chris. I almost put it back into the closet. But I decided that not wearing one would make me look insane. I was insane, of course, on the inside. Ever since Chris’s death my thoughts were all a blur. The only thing I could make out was the constant word that spun around, revenge.

It was like an insect flying all around, buzzing every which way. It was all I ever heard. But no one else could hear that, and that is how I wanted it. No matter how much I was falling apart on the inside, outwardly I had to appear completely normal at all times. It was, in effect the only way I would ever make the incessant buzzing go away.

Swallowing my emotions, I slipped the parka over my head and headed out the door, only to remember that it was still too early. Frustrated, I sat on the front stoop of the apartment complex. Water dripped down from the little roof above the steps and onto my head. I remembered that the parka had a hood and I pulled it over my head tightly.

I sat there, huddled up in my parka and in memories of Chris, until enough time had passed so that I could arrive fashionably early. Quickly I made my way down the street trying my best to dodge the puddles though often failing. Finally I entered the building. I was relieved that the constant pattering of rain was no longer able to reach me. But the air conditioned front hall quickly made me realize just how wet I had gotten.

My pant legs had been randomly splashed with water from all of the sneaky puddles that seemed to magically appear just as I took a step. My feet were also wet, since I had forgotten to wear boots. And even with the parka the cold rain had somehow managed to reach my shirt and thoroughly soak it. The cold air of the building felt frigid against my wet skin. I knocked on Francis’s door and shivered, though not only from the chilly air.

He answered immediately, as if he had been standing at the door waiting for me to arrive. He had that smile on his face. I wanted to tear it off. Instead I greeted him warmly and gave a smile of my own. He gave me a quick once-over, then frowned.

“You are soaked already? How did that happen?” he chuckled. I hated that I could make him laugh. All my life, Chris had been the only person that I could ever make laugh. I felt like Francis was deliberately trying to take the place of my beloved Chris. I sighed, and a small hint of my irritation showed through, enough to make Francis notice. He misinterpreted it of course.

His expression turned sympathetic. I almost laughed myself. As if I wanted or needed his sympathy. “I’m sorry. Come on in. I will loan you some dry clothes, if you want.”

My stomach flipped at the thought of wearing the clothes of that wicked, awful man. I would have lost my breakfast, had I eaten anything. “N…no” I stuttered. That’s okay, really. I’ll dry off. And besides, this rain isn’t going to let up so I am just going to end up getting wet again. No point in getting two sets of clothes wet right?” I flashed a lopsided grin, or at least one that felt like it was lopsided. I wondered if my façade could be detected.

But fortunately I was dealing with an imbecile. Francis just grinned right back. “Well then at least come in for a quick cup of tea before we head out, eh?”

I shrugged. “Sure why not?” I walked in and sat down in the nearest chair while he made the tea. Soon I had a hot mug in my hands.

Francis sat down across from me with a serious expression. “Listen, I am sorry about this weather. I know you don’t want to do this, especially not in the rain. If you want, you can just go home.”

“No way,” I insisted. “I do want to go.” I thought of Chris and smiled. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for that man.



Chapter 6

I was thoroughly drenched. I laughed at myself for thinking I had been wet before. That had been nothing. This was like being a sponge that was repeatedly dipped into the frigid waters of the arctic. And the game was not even half over.

But I hid my misery well. I managed to control my shivering just enough so that it wouldn’t be noticed. Although I suspected Francis wouldn’t have noticed if I had fell over and died right there. He was enjoying himself far too much. Every other second or so he would jump up and cheer. I don’t know why he ever even bothered sitting back down again, when moments later he would end up right back out of his seat.

I merely sat there the entire time, silent and brooding. I longed for this day to be over. But I knew that if I could make it through this wretched experience I would be one giant step closer to getting my revenge. And that made it all worth it. For maybe the second time during the game, I looked out at the field and noticed the players filing off of it. I looked to Francis for an explanation. He finally remembered that I was there with him.

“It’s halftime,” he explained. He flashed me a sympathetic smile. That was his worst expression. It made me want to be violent. I had no use for his sympathy. How could he ever sympathize with me?

“Oh, already? That went by fairly quickly; I must have been really into the game.” I was quickly becoming the king of lies.

“Yeah, it is a great one, isn’t it?” He looked like an excitable little boy going to his first game. It was pathetic and made me love Chris even more. He never cared for football either.

We had always spent our Saturdays doing the crossword puzzle in the newspaper while listening to old tunes on the radio. Or sometimes we would go out, to a restaurant or the movies or to some old shop that just looked really inviting. But we would never watch some silly game, cheering all the time but rarely ever having a conversation.

I was shaken from my musings by a sudden uproar from the crowd that was in front of us. I looked up and my stomach flipped. Two men were kissing. They looked so in love. The crowd started to boo them. They didn’t seem to notice, though. They were in their own little world. A lover’s world. Chris and I used to belong to that world. It was a magnificent place to be, and I was jealous.

But they were forced out of that lovely place when one particularly aggressive and probably drunk member of the crowd decided to throw food at them. Soon other people joined in until a good twenty people were behaving like zoo animals. I sat and watched the scene unfold, my nausea increasing all the time. The two men ceased their lip lock and covered their heads. With horror I saw one of them brush away a tear.

It felt like an eternity had passed before a security guard finally came over and told everyone to settle down. I had a sneaking suspicion he had enjoyed the whole thing. And it seemed someone else had thoroughly enjoyed it as well. I slowly turned my head to see Francis sitting beside me, laughing hysterically. I wished he was drunk right then, so he wouldn’t have looked so horribly wicked. I wished I was drunk, so I wouldn’t be held as accountable if I hit him.

“That…that was great!” he choked out between fits of laughter. I lost it then. I could feel my mask slipping off, breaking into pieces. I either needed to strangle Francis or throw up. I chose the latter.

“I….I don’t feel so good,” I muttered. I jumped up and ran to the bathrooms as fast as I could, tripping up the concrete stairs and receiving weird looks from everyone I passed. I didn’t care. I hurriedly entered the first open stall and leaned over the toilet, waiting for the relief I needed.

It never came. I suddenly remembered that I still hadn’t eaten anything that day. So there was nothing to come back up. Insanely frustrated, I slammed my fist onto the side of the stall. I wanted to end this game now. I couldn’t play anymore, it hurt too much. But I couldn’t, I knew I couldn’t.

In this moment though, I truly felt defeated. I will admit the sad fact that I actually considered giving up my goals entirely. Maybe I could flush those down the toilet, I thought, if nothing else. I slid down to the cold floor and sat against the stall. My phone vibrated then. I didn’t want to answer it, but the vibrations were just adding to my irritation. I quickly flipped it open.

My eyes widened. A pre-recorded message was telling me that a package had been delivered to my home, and I wasn’t there to claim it so it was left at my door. A package….the package. The one I had been waiting for. The one that contained the final step in this grueling process, the true key to my revenge.

I was instantly filled with relief. I could do this, and I would to this. It was oh so easy. In a few more short, measly weeks, I would have my revenge. Maybe even less time than that, I thought optimistically. Francis was far more unobservant than I had ever imagined him to be. To think that this man, this man who killed with such confidence, was so thoroughly ignorant.

Or maybe it wasn’t a surprise. Often I had heard that criminals were idiots. Maybe this was true. Actually, I realized, it must be the truth. Only someone who was truly ignorant and stupid would commit a hate crime of this magnitude. Only a belligerent fool could become the killer of an innocent man.

I stood up with zest and was actually excited to return to my seat next to Francis in the rain and the cold. I almost skipped down there. But I knew that being overly happy would look just as abnormal as being overly sad would. So I kept my happiness tucked safely within me and returned to the seat with a rather blank expression.

Francis turned to me immediately. “Are you okay man?” he asked, looking concerned.

It took me a moment to remember what he meant. I slowly recalled my horrible nausea minutes ago. “Oh,” I said casually, “Yeah, I’m okay. It must have been something bad I ate for breakfast or something like that.” I shrugged, but Francis didn’t look entirely convinced. “I’m fine, really” I added. I even smiled.

“Good,” he replied. Moments later the game resumed and Francis returned to his jumping and cheering. I returned to my quiet stupor, though this time it was a happy one rather than an angry one. The time passed like a flash of lightning and before I knew it I was home.

I changed out of my wet clothes and my spirits lightened even further. I stared lovingly at the little box that now sat on my kitchen table. I couldn’t wait to use its contents. But I refused to open it just yet. I didn’t want to risk getting some uncontrollable urge to use it ahead of time. The moment had to be just perfect. I would wait for the precise moment when Francis would least expect it; when it would have the greatest affect on him. And then I would enact my revenge.



Chapter 7

Time passed by in a blur. I remembered only bits and pieces of my days with Francis. Those included things Francis said that made me angry, opportunities that presented themselves before me to get my revenge against him, and not much else. But though there were many times when I wanted nothing more than to put my plan into action, it was some time before I came across the ideal moment.

After a few more weeks of time spent with my new “buddy”, I woke up one dreary morning and decided on instinct alone that it was time to open my package. It was still sitting on the table where I had left it all those weeks ago. I smiled widely at it. It looked so magnificent, sitting there in its brown paper wrapping. I opened it with delicacy. Within this box was the ticket I needed to win back dignity for Chris.

After tearing away the wrapping, I tossed the paper aside and picked up the bottle inside. I cradled it like it was my newborn child. I held it close to me like I was holding Chris himself in my arms once more. It was a clear container made of hard plastic. The liquid inside was clear as well. A large black sticker on it bore the image of a skull and crossbones.

It was a small bottle. Small enough for me to place into my back pocket without sticking out in an obvious fashion. I placed it there eagerly. Francis was drawing closer to me every day. He gave me a good deal of trust even then. I knew that the time I had left to wait would be short. I didn’t want to miss the opportunity when it arose. I had to be prepared.

This unique opportunity arrived in a way I did not expect, though I wasn’t surprised by the way it occurred. When I strolled to Francis’s apartment that day I never thought that it would be the day he would say things to me that let me know it was time. And yet he told me just such things, all the while bearing the calm attitude of someone who was chatting about the weather.

I was sitting on a hideous piece of furniture, pretending to enjoy some tea. This was the norm for me now. I was quite accustomed to it. Don’t get me wrong, my stomach still turned as much as it used to just to be in the place at all. But over time I had developed ways to deal with the horrible sickness I had to feel as a result of my mission.

We had gone through our usual conversations, about neighbors, politics, and football, about things more serious too; old relationships and our strongest beliefs. I noticed that Francis had been quieter than I on this occasion, and that was unusual. I never realized until that moment how true it a statement it was that one should keep their enemies closer. He shifted his cruel little eyes around the unsightly room. Finally he focused them on me.

“Ben,” he said quietly, “there is something I feel I should tell you.” I welcomed him to continue with a short nod and a small smile.

“These past few weeks you have become a close and a dear friend to me. And the other day, I was lying around and thinking about how good friends are always honest with each other, and tell each other everything. And then I started to feel guilty. I realized that I have kept my biggest secret from you.”

“Oh?” I asked. I already felt sure of what he would say, but of course I couldn't let him know that.

“Yes. I think, once I tell you, you will understand why I waited so long to mention it. It is not the kind of thing you share with just anyone.”

“I’m glad to be the person you trust enough to share it with.”

“I trust you with everything I have,” he told me. I bit back a grin. Now I could see clearly; he was clay in my hands. I had him good and trapped now.

“Do you remember when I told you about that neighbor I was having troubles with?” He didn’t wait for my response. He was beginning to feel nervous and talk in a hurry, almost tripping over his words. “Well, I told you I wouldn’t be having those problems with him anymore. This was because I took care of the issues myself. This man, he was an awful person. He was disgusting and immoral, a homosexual man. A horrible example for the kids growing up around here.”

Despite all my practice, I nearly had to escape to the bathroom, my nausea was so bad. It came suddenly with little warning. I guess I hadn't realized how difficult it would be for me to actually hear this.

“He had a partner and I saw them together on numerous occasions. I never saw what his partner looked like, but I knew Chris all right. He was always the instigator. He dragged his partner around everywhere. More than once I saw him give the other man a kiss, in public! I knew I had to do something. I had to be the hero.”

It took all my strength to hold back my laughter. Francis thought he was a hero.

“I sent him letters, warning him to stop the behavior or face the consequences. He didn’t listen. So I had to dispose of him. I saw him outside alone, and I took the god-given opportunity. I stabbed him with the knife I had taken the liberty to start bringing along with me, just waiting for an opportunity. It was so perfect. When it was over, I felt amazing. I can’t even describe it.”

I just stared at him blankly. Surely he wasn’t talking about the murder of my beloved Chris in such a causal way. It couldn’t be. And he certainly did not describe it as perfect or amazing. It wasn't possible.

“I only hope and pray you can understand where I am coming from here,” he said, looking at me steadily. I stared for another long moment, then almost blew my opportunity completely when emotion overwhelmed me and I passed out.



Chapter 8

I awoke suddenly, not gradually as many describe their return to consciousness. Somewhere in the back of my mind, even while unconscious, I knew that I had an important duty to perform. And there wasn’t much time. I sat up.

I almost bumped into Francis, who was sitting on the other side of the couch. I hadn’t been on the couch before. He must have carried me somehow. It was revolting to think that his murderous hands had been helping me.

“Good, you’re awake. What happened? You were out cold!” He chuckled, obviously finding this hilarious. I didn’t mind. Soon I would be the one who was laughing.

“I’m not sure,” I replied. “I guess I haven’t been eating as much as I should lately.”

He frowned. “Oh, that’s no good. I warned you about that! I’ll go and find something for you.”

Normally I would have refused, but I needed him to leave the room for a bit. I couldn’t prepare myself for the final stage in my plan with him right there.

“I think I’ll go into the bathroom to freshen up. I can’t believe I actually passed out,” I said, shaking my head and laughing like Francis had. We parted ways for the last time as friends. In a few short moments, Francis would know how I really felt about him.

Inside the bathroom, I splashed some cool water on my face. I wanted my mind to be as clear as I could make it when I did this. I took the little bottle out of my pocket. I held it in my hand, feeling the cool plastic against my warm skin. This was it. It was finally time. I had been pushed to my limit, and now was the time to act.

I unscrewed the little black cap on the container for the first time. I expected some pungent odor to waft out of it, but the liquid was without any smell at all. I tipped my head back, and poured a few drops into my mouth. I swallowed eagerly and felt the liquid slide down my throat. No taste either. I was a little disappointed. I was hoping for a bitter taste. It would make the vengeance taste that much sweeter.

As the final touch, I took a bit of poison on my finger and rubbed it on my lips. I quickly exited the bathroom and went to find Francis in the kitchen. I didn’t have much time; five minutes at the most. He had his back turned to me when I entered. I cleared my throat.

“Oh, Guy. I didn’t see you there. Are you sure you should be walking around just yet?”

I ignored his question. “Listen, Francis. I haven’t been completely honest with you
either. Do you remember when I told you about the close friend I once had?”

Francis looked a bit taken aback by my sudden question. But he managed to stutter out a “yes”.

I smiled. I couldn’t help it. His mind could already sense that something wasn’t right, even if he didn’t consciously know it yet. He took an instinctual step back. “Well, he was more than just a friend to me. He was my lover, my ‘partner’ as you like to refer to it as. But that word falls so short in describing how I felt, and still feel, about him. He was the person I wanted to spend my life with. I loved, and still do love him more than anything else in this world.”

“You…you…disgusting…you’re one of them?”

“If by them you mean a human being with the capacity to love another human being, then yes. I am one of them. But you aren’t, are you Francis? You’re an alien to the ways of love.” I stepped closer to him. His eyes widened. I think he knew what I was going to say next.

“And do you remember when I said that he wasn’t around anymore? Well, here’s a little fact. He died. Or more accurately, he was killed. And here are a few more little tidbits of information. His name was Chris, he was my sweet and dearly beloved angel, and you killed him.”

Francis tried for the door then. I wasn’t having any of that. I blocked him. He panicked and backed up until he was against the wall. I was in step with him the whole time, our toes almost touching. I leaned in close, with my hands on the wall for support.

“Francis Rebbs, you are a horrible, evil, murdering bastard. You took my dear Chris away from me, and now you are going to pay. This vengeance, it will be perfect. I had planned this out the very next day following your wicked deed.” I moved my hands to pin his arms back against the wall. He squirmed and his eyes darkened with fear. I leaned in close to him and whispered in his ear. “It’s time to face the consequences, my dear man.”

His face drained of color. His lips turned white. It was time to make my move. I brought my lips away from his ear and to his own lips. I pressed hard, forcing the poison coating on my lips to seep into his own skin. I shoved him against the wall hard. “You have now been exposed to a most deadly poison. Less than a drop can kill a person. And you have had a few. Now you will die here, killed, in theory, by the thing you despise most.”

He slid to the ground. He faced expressed complete shock. He could only stare at me with horror. I licked my lips. I did taste something then, and it was the sweetest taste I had ever experienced. It was sugary and wonderful. The sweet flavor of revenge.

I could feel the room beginning to spin. I didn’t have much time. I had ingested many, many drops of the lethal poison. I felt myself falling into blackness. There were a lot of things I could have thought of in my final moments. I chose to keep in mind the images of the beautiful, angelic face of Chris. This was all for you, my love, I whispered. I didn’t know if I was saying it out loud or not. It didn’t matter.

Finally all was right with the world. I felt at peace, like watching a gentle snowfall on a crisp winter’s day. All of my sins were finally atoned for. I could only pray that Chris was out there somewhere, noticing all of this. Those white lips, they were kissed for you, I mouthed to him, wherever he was. As the final step in my master plan, I willingly allowed the blackness envelope me completely, and I was gone.




THE END

Follow The Sun

(A sequel to Tangled Up In Blue)


Chapter 1

A crisp breeze moved swiftly across the lake, producing choppy waves.
They rocked the wooden boat back and forth, to and fro.
Guy was feeling nauseous.
But it wasn’t from the turbulence on the water.
He was sick with nervousness.
The cooler winds were a telltale sign that summer was ending.
The end of summer meant the end of an era for Guy.
He was leaving this place come autumn.
Tomorrow, in fact.
And he might never be coming back.
Though it was barely past midday, he rowed the old craft back to shore.
Anxiety was a powerful thing.
Standing on the shore Guy looked out across the water.
He briefly considered not going at all,
but quickly pushed those thoughts away.
There was no going back.
He could not thrive on mere dreams any longer.
He dragged the heavy boat with him up the shore.
Then he stored it in his old wooden shed.
He stroked it gently.
He stared at it a while.
There was a good chance he would never use it again.
But he could live with that.
The alternative was far better.
He picked up his tackle box and pole and took them inside the cabin.
The box he put down immediately.
But the pole he was not so willing to let go of.
The shiny red pole had been his greatest companion here.
Was he really going to leave it behind?
He had too, he knew he did.
If he was going to leave, none of his past could come with him.
This change was all about the future.
He took the pole apart and put it away.
Quietly he went about cooking a meal.
Fish again.
This could be the last time he ever ate fresh fish.
This he would not miss.
He had grown so tired of the meal.
Although he realized it might taste better with someone to share it with.
A little smile danced briefly across his lips.
Perhaps loneliness would not be such a familiar emotion anymore.
He went to bed early.
He had to get start on his way as soon as morning’s first light became visible.
Sleep came easily and left just as easily.
His eyes opened before dawn.
The same common images occupied his dreams.
As soon as he awoke he recalled them.
Eyes of the purest blue.
But now they didn’t create feelings of depression.
They stirred hope in his heart.
After another quick meal he was ready.
He picked up his pre-packed little suitcase.
All it contained were a few items of clothing and some money.
This he had earned selling fish at the market.
Monthly he made visits there.
It was in the center of the little town a few miles east down the road.
It was there he headed now.
He walked down the path with quiet determination.
He followed he sun all the way there.



Chapter 2

Guy made good time.
Before noon he had reached the small town.
His ears were filled with the sounds of bustling people.
Even in such a small place, it seemed that everyone was out and about.
He passed mothers towing children.
Fathers heading for work.
Most there were fisherman or lumberjacks.
A few were skilled workers.
Such as carpenters or tailors.
Some ran small stores and businesses in the town’s center.
One such man was the one Guy intended to see.
Abel was leaning against his grocery store.
He was smoking a cigarette.
When he looked up and saw Guy he took one last drag and put it out.
“ ‘Ello”, Guy said with a friendly nod.
Abel chuckled.
He always liked to make fun of the way Guy spoke.
The people there weren’t accustomed to his unusual accent.
“I have her warmed up and ready. We can go as soon as you’d like.”
“I’d like to go now,” Guy said.
Abel nodded and headed to the side of the building.
Guy followed him.
His heart lifted at the sight of the vehicle.
It was old.
Just a beaten up pickup truck.
But it was transportation.
And it was the first step in making his way out of there.
He climbed into the passenger seat next to Abel.
“Thank you for this.”
Abel revved the engine and pulled out slowly.
“Don’t mention it,” he said.
Soon they were making their way down the steep road and away from the town.
It was slow going.
But it still beat walking, Guy thought.
The drive was long.
A good four hours or so.
The road had many twists and turns.
But the truck handled them well.
When they reached their destination the sun was sinking fast.
This town was a god deal larger than the last.
It had a movie theater and even a shopping center.
But the most important thing to Guy was the train station.
“The daylight is fading fast, my friend,” Abel noted.
“But you can race it on that train. Good luck.”
“Thank you.”
“I admire you,” Abel told him.
“You have been a great help to me,” Guy replied.
Guy slipped him some money.
Then he headed down the paved road, suitcase in hand.
At the station he boarded the train almost immediately.
Soon after it began to move.
The light was fading, it was true.
Fading away on his old life.
But Guy was following the sun to its next destination.



Chapter 3

The train ride was even longer than the car ride.
It lasted all night.
Guy was the only person in that car.
He might have felt lonely.
But over time he had grown almost immune to that emotion.
Or maybe not.
But he didn’t feel it now.
That much was certain.
His mind was filled.
His eyes were filled.
His heart was filled.
All of them were filled with hope for what lay ahead.
The future awaiting him beyond this stretch of seemingly endless track.
Somewhere deep down Guy even felt excitement.
This made him anxious once more.
He was not accustomed to feeling such things.
Not since he had arrived at that isolated cabin by the lake.
He thought a bit of sleep would calm his nerves.
But his body was not used to the light, yet jarring motions of the train.
His eyes would open as soon as they began to shut.
He sighed.
And took to staring at his surroundings instead.
There wasn’t much to look at.
Occasional dark figures of trees, whizzing past.
But mostly endless stretches of flat land.
The moon was out though.
Guy busied himself gazing at it.
It was a brilliant contrast to the dark sky.
It was mesmerizing.
In the same way that Chris’s eyes were mesmerizing.
After a long, hard day.
Instinctually Guy stopped himself.
He knew from experience the pain memories could cause.
But then he remembered.
There was nothing to fear now.
For the first time in a long time Guy really relaxed.
He let the wall crumble.
He allowed himself to think unguarded.
The feeling was lovely.
He got lost in it.
Fully wrapped up in its exquisite glory.
So much so that he didn’t mind when a storm rolled in.
Clouds came quickly and ate up the limited light in the sky.
They replaced it with a true darkness.
The darkness enveloped everything.
Shadows danced around the train car.
Not even the smallest amount of light could be seen.
The moon was covered by a thick layer of clouds.
Normally this would have depressed Guy.
It would have made him yearn to be out on the lake,
his fishing pole firmly in his hands.
But this time he didn’t mind the lack of lighting.
He knew that the sun was awaiting him at his destination.
He just had to follow it, and everything would be alright.



Chapter 4

The first colors of daylight peeked out over the horizon.
Grass and trees slowly began to disappear.
Some old factories and even older houses stood in their place.
Gradually the buildings got closer and closer together.
And soon there was no denying that Guy was in a city.
This was not just any city, either.
Not to Guy.
This was where his dreams would become more than dreams.
That is how it had been once.
And Guy hoped it could be that way again.
There had been no response to his letter.
But that was just fine.
He hadn’t expected one.
In fact, he would have been disheartened if had received a letter in return.
It would have been very uncharacteristic for Chris to reply.
The buildings were getting taller, too.
Guy knew the train was drawing near to the heart of the city.
This filled him with joy.
For he was also drawing nearer to the heart of something else.
Or more accurately, someone else.
Hopefully that heart could be his once more.
He had taken it for granted the first time.
But now he was older.
He was stronger.
He was wiser.
Or at least he thought he was.
He was wise enough now to see the value of what he once had.
And that was all the wisdom he needed.
Guy felt the train begin to slow.
It was a tedious process.
But eventually the heavy hunk of metal made a complete stop.
It stood still at the station.
The doors were opened.
Guy gripped his suitcase tightly and stepped out into the hustle and bustle of the city.
Things had changed since he had last been here.
But he still knew his way around the city like he knew his way around a fishing pole.
Running on pure instinct, his feet guided him up and down the narrow roads.
They stopped him when they reached the familiar red brick apartment.
Guy shivered.
Memories flooded back to him all at once.
None of them were bad.
Because they involved Chris.
Tentatively he rapped on the door.
He knew Chris would still be living here.
He had made it clear to Guy that he would always be waiting for him,
should he choose to return.
The door opened.
Chris was behind it.
Guy’s heart swelled.
Chris was loyal to the end.
Guy was met with an embrace.
Then a kiss.
And then a feeling of euphoria.
Chris still wanted him.
It was unbelieveable.
And it was wonderful.
“I was so wrong,” Guy admitted.
“When I left I told you I wanted to follow the sun.
What I didn’t realize was that you were my sun all along.
It is you I am going to follow from now on.”




THE END

Tangled Up In Blue

Chapter 1

The water was a cool and gentle kind of blue.
It was soothing.
Guy dipped his hand into it.
Tiny ripples formed around his fingers.
Gently he swished the water back and forth, reveling in the refreshment it provided for his hot skin.
Then he baited his hook and cast his fishing line into the lake.
The force of the motion rocked the boat just a little.
Guy sat back to steady the craft.
He felt the sun on his face.
Powerful rays burned down on his well-tanned arms with the high intensity of mid-summer.
Guy stared out across the lake and waited.
And waited.
And waited some more.
The sun sank lower and lower in the sky.
Finally he felt a tug on the line.
He did nothing at first.
Once a fish was hooked it was good to let it gain some distance.
The fish in the area were quite large.
Guy didn't want to risk the small boat capsizing as a result of a sudden, powerful movement from the fish.
He wanted to wear it out first.
When the fish was a few yards back, he put just enough pressure on the line to keep it from getting any farther out.
Now it was time to wait again.
Guy sat and waited while the fish thrashed around in the water.
All the while he held a firm grip on the pole.
It took a long time.
But finally the fish had appeared to wear itself out.
Guy began the final step in the process.
Slowly but surely he began to reel the fish in.
Every few seconds he would stop, and wait.
Wait to see if the fish had any excess energy just waiting to escape.
The sun was beginning to disappear behind the reeds.
Finally the fish was close enough to be pulled up.
Guy slowly began to drag the fish out of the water.
This part always took the most stamina.
The fish there could top one hundred pounds.
It was no easy task to get it out of the water.
And unfortunately for Guy it never did make it all the way out.
The fish, perhaps using up a last bit of energy, suddenly began to thrash violently.
Its muscles flexed.
Its scales reflected a rainbow of colors in the dying light of the evening.
Guy used all the strength he had.
But it was no use.
The four foot long fish snapped the line clean in two with one flick of its tailfin.
It plunged back into the water with a splash that made the boat rock violently.
Guy watched as the deep blue of the water engulfed the fish once more, relentlessly staking its claim on the creature.
He watched as the fish swam away.
The water owned the fish, and the fish belonged to the water.
The fish was determined that nothing was going to change that.
Guy didn't blame it.
He knew there was nothing that could be done.
The fish was tangled up in blue.



Chapter 2

Guy wiped the sweat from his brow.
Then he rowed the boat to shore.
He rolled up his pants and stepped out of the boat.
The ankle deep water felt good on his hot and calloused feet.
Tiny rocks crunched beneath his toes as he dragged the little boat onto the bank.
He picked up his fishing pole and rested it on his shoulder.
In his other hand he held on to his tackle box.
Once more he glanced at the lake.
Then he walked up the shore to the small wood cabin he called home.
He wiped his feet on the worn down welcome mat lying pathetically in front of his door before entering.
No one’s feet but his own had ever used it.
He kneeled down on the cool wooden floor and began to disassemble his beloved fishing pole.
Gingerly he rubbed each piece with a cloth so that it shown like new.
He grabbed his special box from the table beside him and placed each piece gently inside.
Then his stomach reminded him that he had eaten nothing since noon.
He stood up and went to examine the state of his tiny kitchen.
Luckily he still had some leftover fish tucked neatly in the freezer.
He fried it up on his stove’s sole burner.
Quickly he ate up the small portion and sat at his table to eat, facing the empty chair across from him.
The smartly curved edges gave him a teasing smile.
All of his furniture was home-made.
Each piece had been crafted with upmost care.
But Guy had no idea why he ever made that damn chair.
It spent its days mocking him.
He washed down his modest meal with a cold beer.
Beer was the one thing Guy was willing to splurge on.
It made the long, lonely silences more bearable.
Now it was nearly dark.
Guy returned to the main room to sit in his favorite chair, a large and comfortable armchair in a corner of the room.
All the upholstery had been done by Guy, too.
The look and feel of the fabric was just to his liking.
He switched on the only light in the room, a small reading lamp by the side of the grand chair.
After making a quick visit to his bookshelf he sat down in the chair and smiled.
The book he had chosen was an old favorite of his.
Its title was etched in gold letters and its pages were protected by a cover in a rich, dark blue.
For a while he just stared at it, a smile still playing on the edge of his mouth.
Then he opened it up and began to read.
Quickly he became engrossed in its contents.
He could sense the hours passing by.
He knew he should put the book down.
But he couldn’t do it.
He was lost among its every page, its every word.
Time after time he tried to close it for the night and save it for another day.
But he could not pull away from it.
The book’s every sentence was skillfully written and the feel of the blue cover felt good in his hands.
Slowly but surely, Guy was tangled up in blue.



Chapter 3

The moon hung high in the sky by the time Guy finally put down the book.
He had finished it.
Again he smiled a bit.
He had lost.
He always lost.
He was just no match for that book.
It had beaten him, just like the fish had.
He stood slowly and stretched his arms out wide.
It was high time he got some sleep.
In his box of a room, he stripped down to his undergarments.
Then he crawled under his thick blue comforter.
The days were hot but the nights were cold, even in the summer.
He had no air conditioning and suffered during the summer heat.
He did, however, have a wood burning stove for warmth,
but he needed to save his wood ration for the wintertime,
when both days and nights were bitter.
So for now he had to make do with wrapping the comforter around him.
He shut his eyes and waited for sleep to come.
It was a short wait.
It was late and his day had been long.
He was exhausted and slept deeply.
But he dreamed of many things.
Living so isolated had caused him to develop an excellent imagination.
He dreamed nearly every night.
His dreams were filled with foreign lands and foreign people.
But he also dreamed of familiar faces.
One in particular stood out among the rest.
It was because of this person that Guy knew he dreamed in color.
Every time he dreamed of him he remembered the blue of the man’s eyes.
It was the last thing he saw before he opened his own eyes.
Guy’s body ran on a natural clock.
He had stopped using an alarm clock years ago.
He always awoke right at the crack of dawn, whenever that might be.
The grey light of early morning welcomed him.
But his comforter had conformed to the shape of his slender frame overnight.
Guy had little room to move.
The blanket strictly encased him, but it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling.
He wanted to get up.
He knew he needed to.
It was essential for him to have a successful day fishing.
His stock was running dangerously low,
even though it was the best season for the largest and most abundant fish.
But the warm embrace of the blanket urged him to stay put.
Its soft caress as he moved even a little let him know that it wanted him to stay.
It called out to him.
It whispered to him ever so softly.
“Stay with me, please,” it plead.
And Guy stayed.
He closed his eyes again and lay there until the sun was well over the horizon.
There in his bed under a layer of warmth and comfort he remained,
tangled up in blue.



Chapter 4

Finally, after many hours, Guy dragged himself out from beneath the covers.
The comforter showed its sorrow without Guy’s presence.
It lay there, limp and lonely.
“Feel sorry for me,” it said.
And Guy did, just a little.
“Have pity, come back to me,” it cooed.
But that was one thing Guy could not do.
Sympathetic to its fate, he smoothed it out across the bed and tucked its corner neatly under the mattress.
“Perk up,” he told it. “I will be back again tonight.”
He cooked a quick breakfast for himself.
Fish again, of course.
He was down to his last cuts, and he knew that had to change.
So he took his tackle box and the special box that contained his fishing pole and went outside to face the morning sun.
He sat down in the grass a little ways from the cabin, feeling the warm rays on his face.
He opened the fishing pole’s special box and delicately put it together.
Then he swiftly took the few steps necessary to reach the cabin and placed the black box at its proper location on the table.
He exited the cabin once more, quite determined to accomplish a great deal that day.
By the sun’s position in the sky, Guy could tell it was nearly noon already.
He had already wasted far too much time.
But looking up towards the sky had been a mistake.
After seeing the sun, he allowed his eyes to wander towards the open sky.
It was a beautiful, brilliant blue.
There were no clouds at all.
There was nothing but the endless blue.
It intrigued him.
No, it fascinated him.
Such a pure and never ending kind of blue.
He lay back in the soft grass.
His newly assembled fishing pole lay on one side of him.
The tackle box sat squarely on the other.
Neither of them got any use that day.
Guy put his hands behind his head and relaxed.
He stared up at the sky with large, brown eyes that expressed al the admiration in the world.
Admiration for this sweet and lovely blue that flaunted itself before him.
There were many times in which tried to look away.
He would suddenly be reminded that the fishing pole and tackle box still lay untouched at his sides.
Many times his hands twitched toward the items.
But something deep in his subconscious prevented him from ever picking them up.
He was stuck lying in the grass that day, he knew that much for sure.
His eyes remained glued to the sky and he couldn’t stop another tiny smile from showing up on his face.
Whether he liked it or not, he was once again tangled up in blue.



Chapter 5

At some point Guy must have dozed off.
His eyes opened suddenly but he hadn’t remembered closing them.
Immediately he searched for the blue in the sky.
But he was highly disappointed.
The vast blue sky had been overrun with large clouds.
They were gathering quickly and they enveloped the entire sky on a somber gray.
They decreased the intensity of the sun’s light and made it look as though more time had passed than actually did.
But Guy knew it was still too late to bother going out on the lake.
Especially not with the formidable clouds rolling in.
It would be more than a little risky to be out on the lake in his tiny rowboat when a storm was sure to begin at any moment.
It would be plain stupidity.
Guy stood and looked around.
He didn’t know what to do with himself, now that any kind of fishing was out of the picture.
He hadn’t missed a day of fishing since he had first arrived here.
With a sigh he decided that there was nothing left to do but return to the cabin.
Just in time, it started to rain, and then to pour.
He picked up his pole and tackle box and turned around to face his home.
Then he dropped them right back on the ground again.
Standing before him was the familiar face of his dreams.
He had his nose, his mouth, his hair, his smile.
He had all the same little imperfections.
The tiny wrinkles and creases in his face were located at just the right spots.
But most importantly, he had the same eyes.
The same bright blue eyes that Guy could never forget as long as he lived, even out in the middle of nowhere.
The same eyes that shone brightly even as the body they were a part of became slowly soaked in the rain.
“Chris,” Guy whispered, his voice caked with love.
Chris didn’t say anything.
He simply smiled.
Then he made a small motion with his hand, gesturing Guy to come closer.
Hesitantly, Guy complied.
He stepped towards Chris in complete awe.
Not once did he look away from his eyes.
Finally he was within touching distance.
He reached out to hug him tight.
But his arms grasped at nothing, and he lost his balance on the slippery ground, only to fall face first into the mud.
Guy sat up right away and blinked a few times.
It had all been a hallucination.
Probably a result of dehydration, he realized, from lying in the sun so long.
He hadn’t had a drop of water to drink in all that time.
He stood and did his best to wipe the mud from his face.
He collected his things and returned to the cabin, soaking wet and feeling like an idiot.
Only a gullible fool would fall for such a thing, he thought.
He supposed he had been so easily tricked because the thought of Chris’s blue eyes rarely ever left his mind.
Somewhere in his subconscious they always remained, and revealed themselves through his dreams.
He shook his head in disbelief and almost laughed.
Even after all these years, he was still tangled up in blue.



THE END

Don't You Shiver

Chapter 1

“We should definitely keep Death and All His Friends; we should push it back later into the set. But I think Chinese Sleep Chant needs to go.”

Guy nodded his agreement. “I concur with that Will; Chinese Sleep Chant just doesn’t seem to sound right.”

“So are everyone’s feelings mutual on that?”

“Mmhmm” uttered Jonny and Chris simultaneously.

“Good. We’ve got a concrete set list then.”

“Well, there is one mater I’d like to address.”

“What is it Chris?”

“I think we should replace Chinese Sleep Chant with something instead of just eliminating a song altogether.”

Will rubbed his chin. “That is something worth considering. But I’m just not sure what song we would use as a replacement.”

“Rainy Day?” suggested Jonny.

“No, I don’t think that would fit.”

“We should do Shiver,” Chris said firmly. He stole a glance at Guy.

“Hmm, that could work.” Will thought for a moment. “Yes I could certainly see that. It would fit in nicely with the rest of the list.”

“It’s alright with me,” Jonny added.

“What about you Guy?” questioned Will.

“I don’t think it’s such a good idea,” he mumbled.

“Why not? We haven’t played it in a while, and it fits in well with everything else we’ve got.”

Even though it was Will who had spoken, Guy stared directly at Chris. “No,” he said coldly, “just no.”

Will sighed in frustration. “At least give a reason!”

“I said NO. Why should it matter why? One veto and we don’t do it right? So end of discussion. We’re not playing Shiver.” The way he said “Shiver” made it sound like some deadly disease. Guy stood swiftly and left the room.

“What’s gotten into him?”

Jonny shrugged. Chris just stared at his feet. This was going to be a very difficult tour, he could feel it.


Outside the Bakery, Guy felt the cool air on his face and he began to calm down. He pulled out a cigarette and lit up. He wanted to kick himself. He had thought he was getting better at this, better at forgetting the past. But when Chris had suggested Shiver, so bluntly like that, he lost lost it. He couldn’t stand the fact that Chris had the ability to toy with his emotions that way.

He sighed. He knew it wasn’t really Chris’s fault. It was his own damn messed up head that was really to blame. But what could he do about it? He couldn’t help the way things were. And they weren’t about to change any time soon as far as he could tell. He heaved another sigh. He had no idea how he was going to make it through this tour with his sanity. Or what was left of it, that is.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Chris sat alone at the piano. Will and Jonny had left early. There wasn’t all that much to do. They were going on tour in a week; it’s not as if there was any urgent need to work on new songs. But Chris could feel a melody inside him, itching to get out. He did not, however, have the strength to reach for it. He had no particular urge to do anything lately. Thoughts of Guy consumed him constantly. And lately those thoughts were defining his actions.

He thought back to earlier that day; he hadn’t meant to get Guy so upset. Deep in his mind however were thoughts of vengeance. He wanted to get back at Guy. Get back at him for making him love him. Get back at him for breaking his heart. And he hated himself for it. How could he have such cruel feelings towards a man whom he also loved above all else? He slammed his hands down hard on the piano keys. The loud, echoing, off-key sound was satisfying. It matched the sorry tune his heart was playing.


Chapter 2

Guy was ready for sound check. He had been ready for half an hour. So had everyone else for that matter. Well everyone besides Chris, who was the cause of the delay.

But Guy hardly minded his absence. Every time he saw Chris he would see those sad blue eyes, no longer twinkling as they used to so many years ago. It made his heart ache to see him like that.

He had thought the pain would dissipate over time, or at least get easier to bear, but it hadn’t in the slightest. Every day was as bad as the last, if not worse. But this, he supposed, would be nothing like the painful ridicule he would have to bear were he to return that blue-eyed stare back to its former glory.

Yes, he knew exactly how to fix Chris’s wounded emotional state. The solution was oh so simple. But the consequences would be horrific. Or at least that’s what he had been assuming all this time.

Fear overshadowed him and kept him from thinking of the much more positive and quite honestly, highly probable alternative. He resurfaced from the fog of his thoughts to Chris’s exclamations of apology.

“Sorry, so sorry! I didn’t mean to be so late, I overslept! Sorry!”

Guy rolled his eyes. Chris seemed to think that he owed everyone perfection. He turned his glance down towards his sneakers, remembering a time when Chris hadn’t been this way at all. At one point he had been confidant, sure, and very bold. All qualities that Guy had been immediately attracted to when Jonny first introduced Chris to him back in college.

He quickly reached for his beer. No, he wouldn’t think of that. He couldn’t do it, it hurt too much. “You ready?” It took a moment for Guy to realize that Will was talking to him. “Yeah,” he mumbled, quickly standing and shifting his guitar strap to the proper position.

They played through their whole set, twice. Everyone was a bit nervous; this was the first show of the tour. Chris especially was very tense, and he shifted about back and forth in front of the microphone, clearing his throat after every song. Jonny and Will looked at each other, sensing Chris’s uneasiness. Jonny mouthed something to Will, and Will nodded.

“Chris, I think that’s enough. It sounds great,” he said in a tone that was meant to be reassuring. “Why don’t we wrap things up today with a quick little jam session? Chris, you can choose the song. Anything you want.”

Chris knew he shouldn’t say it, but he just had to. He had to make sure Guy knew that at every moment Chris was still thinking of him, still hurting because of him. He gave Guy a hard stare. “I want to play Shiver.”

Guy could feel Chris’s eyes upon him, critical, cruel, and so very hurt.

“This again?” Will questioned.

“Yes,” Chris replied stubbornly.

“Guy, is it alright if we play it, just for sound check?” Will raised one eyebrow speculatively. “If you’re over whatever ordeal you were going through earlier?”

Guy shrugged and bowed his head, relenting. He wanted to make a scene, but he knew that if he continued to behave in this fashion he’d start raising questions. The last thing he wanted was to be treated like a suspect being interrogated; a blinding spotlight in his eyes with all focus on him. So he simply stared at his bass, fingers positioned to play.

Will started up a beat, and Jonny and Chris struck out the first chords. Already it hurt. As Guy’s fingers moved about the strings on his bass, the motions memorized from long ago, he could practically feel his chest aching.

He moved in a graceful rhythm, trying to meld with the music. Maybe then he would be able to handle it. But as soon as Chris’s voice hit the first notes Guy could feel himself falling apart inside.

So I look in your direction, but you pay me no attention-do you?

Chris paused for a brief moment then looked straight at Guy as he sung “do you?” as loud and clear as he could manage.

You know how much I need you, but you never even see me-do you?

Again Guy could feel Chris’s piercing glare on him. His internal structure collapsed. The rest of the band, as well as a few remaining from the sound crew who were ambling about, exchanged astonished looks as they heard the loud clambering of the bass instrument hitting the ground. They followed Guy with their eyes as he stole away as fast as he could without breaking into a sprint.

“What the hell?” Will turned to give Chris a solid stare. “Do you know anything about this Chris?”

Chris examined his feet before reluctantly giving an answer. “I might…..but I don’t see how that is your business.”

“Chris, be reasonable. Will is only trying to understand,” Jonny replied evenly.

Exasperated, Chris retorted “Well I would tell you but it is not up to me! I would tell you in a heartbeat, but Guy does not wish for anybody to know. If you want your answers you must speak with him.”

Will nodded and stood. Jonny watched him leave the stage and did not have to ask where he was going. Chris watched him go and then sat down on the stage, wrapping his arms around his legs. Jonny had never seen Chris’s face look so solemn, and he wondered just what it was that could be affecting him so terribly.


Chapter 3

Guy wasn’t hard to find. Will knew where he would be. He knocked on the dressing room door but did not wait for a reply before entering. Guy was sitting on a collapsible table at the far end of the room, holding his camera in his hands as many would hold an infant.

“What are you doing in here?”

“Just taking a few photos….the light is interesting here.” Guy tried to keep his voice level but Will was not fooled.

“Cut the crap Guy. I want to know what’s been bugging you these past few days.” Guy just stared at the wall. “Look man, I can see that you’re upset. I really think that it would be best if you talked about it.” Guy followed a small crack in the wall with his eyes.

“Guy.” Will was really serious now. “Does this have anything to do with Chris?” Guy was surprised to find that the crack was longer than he thought; it went all the way to the ceiling. Will let out a frustrated sigh.

“Alright fine. Be this way if you choose. But just remember you are hurting more than yourself. We will all suffer if you cannot pull yourself together.” He turned to walk away. Suddenly he felt a pull on his sleeve. He turned to see the saddest face he had ever seen. Guy’s expression was a pitiful mix of pain, devastation, and vulnerability than Will had never seen in him before.

“What’s wr-“ Will was interrupted by Guy’s stricken tone of voice. “It does. It does have something to do with Chris.” Will stood sat next to Guy and patiently waited for him to get his bearings.

“It has…..everything to do with him.” Will waited for him to continue, but he simply returned to staring at the wall.

“Guy, you need to tell me what is going on. I cannot sit here and pull suppositions out of the air.” Guy still said nothing. “I want to help you Guy, I really do. But you are acting ridiculously.” Will got up to leave again, but Guy stopped him.

“What is with you?”

“Please……just stay here.” His eyes were filed with such desperation that Will couldn’t have left if he wanted to. So he sat there and shared in the silence.

A while later, though neither of them knew how much time had passed, Guy spoke.

“Will, I am very sorry. I am sorry to you, and to Jonny, and to everyone else for the way I have been behaving lately. But none of that compares to the apologies I owe to Chris.”

“What is this about?” Guy stared at the ground and nervously swung his legs back and forth. “It is….hard to explain. I do not know if I can."

Will gave him a quizzical look. “Err what I mean is that I do not know if I have the…..courage.” He swallowed anxiously. Will laid a hand on Guy’s shoulder. Softly he replied, “Guy you can tell me anything. Anything at all. I am your friend. I won’t judge you, I won’t hurt you, and I certainly won’t hate you. You know that don’t you?” Guy still looked apprehensive; even fearful.

“Listen to me Guy. You can trust me; there is nothing to fear. If it makes you feel any better at all, I promise you that all you say will be confidential. I will never tell a soul.” Will thought he saw Guy smile a little.

He sighed and sat up a little straighter. “Okay,” he replied quietly. “I will tell you.” He turned suddenly and grabbed Will’s shoulder, and Will saw that there was indeed real fear in his eyes. “But you must promise me, promise me, that you will not tell anyone. Not anyone!”

“Settle down,” Will said calmly, giving a small smile. “I have already promised you that.”

“That is true, I’m sorry.” This time Will knew what he saw on Guy’s face was a smile.

“Forgive me Will. But you must understand, I had made a vow to myself long ago that I would never tell this to anyone.” Will simply nodded. “And until recently, I thought I could keep that vow. But lately I am realizing that…..I cannot keep these things inside. So hear me out, please. But I warn you, this is a lengthy tale to tell.”

“I don’t mind.” Guy smiled again, looking reassured. “Thank you.”


Chapter 4

Guy took a deep breath and began to tell Will the long story that resulted in his and Chris's misery.

"Chris and I...we first met back in college when Jonny introduced us."

"Yes I know that much."

"Sorry. But it's relevant."

Will closed his mouth quickly. He didn't want to discourage Guy from speaking.

"So..." He cleared his throat nervously. "When we first met we were....instantly..." His eyes darted around the room as if he believed someone was hiding in the shadows, listening in. "...attracted to each other." He said this in a tone that was hardly even audible enough to be called a whisper.

Will was quite a bit surprised to hear this, but he kept a straight face. Guy looked at Will for along moment, clearly expecting some sort of dramatic reaction. He visibly relaxed when he didn't get one, and continued on with more confidence.

"As soon as we could manage, we began hooking up. It was Chris who made the first move. The night after we met, he knocked on the door of my dorm. He told me, quite bluntly, that he was attracted to me. And he wanted to know if I felt the same way. I told him that I did, but that I didn't want to act on those feelings." Guy smiled, reminiscing.

"But that didn't stop Chris. He asked to hang out, just as friends. I agreed; I must admit I was fully taken in by his charm. I ordered pizza and we watched a bunch of old movies." For a moment Guy was surprised that he could remember all of this with such detail. But upon second thought he knew that it was no real surprise, as he spent the majority of his hours thinking about Chris and the life they once shared; replaying every moment.

"And then, after about the fifth movie, I must've started to drift off because I awoke to Chris kissing my head, which was resting on his shoulder. I think my face was completely shocked. Chris told me later that I had looked like a deer in headlights." Guy chuckled at this little memory.

"I sat up and looked at him, fully intending to put him in his place. Somehow I ended up kissing him back instead. On the lips though. And well....things progressed from there." He blushed and fidgeted with his camera. Will nodded his understanding. He actually felt like smiling; he thought Guy and Chris together was actually quite sweet.

Guy coughed nervously, trying to hide his face. "After....that night, we agreed to start dating-but I had one condition. I told Chris I wanted absolute secrecy; I didn't want anyone to know about us. He promised he wouldn't tell a soul, even though I could see it hurt him that I felt the need to hide. But that's the kind of person Chris is; willing to do anything for those he cares about. I think it was mainly for this reason that I grew....to love him."

Guy's expression turned to one of regret. "I never told him though. I can hardly believe I am telling you. But he told me. Less than a month after that first night, he told me he loved me. I wanted to say the same, but...I just couldn't make myself do it. I was afraid Will. Afraid of being stuck in a commitment like...that."

" 'That?' "

"Yeah....you know...with a guy and a guy..." Guy sighed in frustration. "It was such an odd concept to me! I had never had those kind of feelings for a guy before. I didn't know how to handle it. Which is probably why after six months I broke it off." Guy mumbled the last part; he sounded ashamed. Now Will was visibly surprised.

"I see." He wanted to say more, but he was trying to watch his words. There would be plenty of time for him to play counselor after Guy was done getting everything off his chest.

"It was very difficult for Chris. He took it...very hard. But he didn't question me. He didn't get mad at me and start yelling, he didn't vow not to speak to me ever again. What he did was much worse. He...he blamed...himself. Completely. He told me he was sorry that he could not satisfy me properly. And he told me..." Guy nearly choked on his words. "He told me that he hoped I would find someone who could make me happy. I had to make him understand. I couldn't let him put this on himself. So I told him the truth. I had too."

"And the truth is?"

"The truth is that I was scared. Scared of people...and what they would think, if they ever found out about...." Guy broke off. He felt sudden tears in his eyes, but he fought them back.

"And Chris....he was, at this point, quite visibly upset. He tried to tell me that there was nothing to fear; we could make it through together, but I wouldn't listen. I just wouldn't listen. I was too afraid. I am too afraid. Even now Will, I'm terrified."

He couldn't hold back the tears any more, and before he knew it he was crying into Will's shoulder. Will sat there and let him. Guy cried until he could not cry any longer if he had wanted to.


Chapter 5

When Guy had finally calmed down a bit, Will determined that it was the correct time to speak. He spoke softly, reassuringly at first. He didn't want to sound critical.

"It's going to be okay Guy."

"No it isn't," retorted Guy miserably.

"You can work this out you know." Guy just stared off into space, his eyes hazy with emotional exhaustion. Will let him be and returned to sitting in silence until Guy cleared throat.

"Umm, there is a bit more to this story. Sorry I got carried away before. I had buried those memories so long ago.....I didn't realize it would hurt so much to uncover them. I mean, I have recalled them before, but not in real perspective; just more as an onlooker really."

"I alright, I understand. If you want to tell me the rest, I'd be more than willing to listen."

Guy tried to smile, but he no longer had the energy. Instead he just continued where he had left off. "Chris was very gentlemanly about the entire breakup. But he was, and is, a naturally diligent person. He gives me constant, fervent reminders, though they are subtle, that he will be ready and waiting when I decide to put my fears behind me. He gives me his best efforts."

"How do you mean?" Will wondered.

"Shiver.....he wrote that about me, for me. I'm not being conceited, he told me so. He poured out his heart and soul in that song. When he told me about it, the first night he showed it to us, he took me aside later on. And he told me that he had spent three weeks working on it, and that it was made especially for me."

He swallowed hard, and fought off more tears that he didn't even know he had in him. "And so....every chance he gets, he reminds me. He reminds me that he would protect me from my fears, if only I would let him."

"That sounds like an excellent idea."

Guy's expression was one of torture. "No, you don't understand. Chris thinks he can protect me from this, but there is nothing he can do."

"But Guy-"

"The ridicule Will, the ridicule! Do you know what that would be like? What I would have to deal with? And not just me either; the entire band would have to bear the brunt of it. Especially Chris," he added quietly. "This is just not something I can deal with right now."

"I think you are overreacting to this. People aren't going to care who you choose to be in a relationship with. And if they do, so what? I certainly won't mind having to deal with a little extra ridicule for the sake of my best friend's happiness. I know that Jonny won't mind either. And certainly Chris isn't worried about that."

"That's because he doesn't understand!" Guy responded with exasperation. He frowned and shook his head. "And I don't think that you do either." He stood up and headed for the door. He paused for a moment, then turned round to face Will again.

"Listen Will," he said, his expression softening. "Thank you for this. I really appreciate you letting me throw all my shit on you for a bit. I feel better now that I've told someone. But I've come to accept the fact that Chris and I....we were never meant to be." His dark eyes were clouded with scores of emotions. "And I can live with that. I will be content with it. I have to be, because this is the way things must be." With that he turned sharply on his heels and left the small room.

Will let out a frustrated sigh. Guy could be stubborn as a mule and single-minded when he chose to be.


Chapter 6

Will walked slowly back to the stage. He didn't expect anyone to still be there, but Chris and Jonny were sitting towards the front, whispering to each other. Will cleared his throat and they looked up.

"Chris, Guy told me everything. I think he is being ridiculous. I'm going to go find him and smack some sense into him."

Chris jumped up with lightning speed, his eyes burning with determination. "No! I mean, let me go find him please. I am shocked that he finally found the courage to tell even you. And now I need to speak to him." He spoke this last words with an air of finality.

"Of course," Will replied. Chris started to jog, but quickly burst into a near sprint. He would not let Guy get away this time. He would speak with him before he could retreat back into his shell again. Chris knew he didn't have much time. Soon Guy's courage would be worn down by his paranoia. His thoughts were interrupted when he collided with someone.

"Jesus Christ what are you doing man?"

Chris realized who that someone was. "Guy!" he practically shouted.

"Chris?" His anger subsided completely when he realized who he was speaking to. Instead it was replaced by horrible feelings of apprehension and guilt combined. The feelings he always carried inside whenever Chris was near. But now they were closer to the surface than ever before.

"Will told me you had gone off somewhere, so I went running to look for you. I really need to talk to you."

"There is nothing to say." Guy's face was completely expressionless. It was either that or have another breakdown.

"Guy, there is everything to say. I cannot bear any longer this pain. The pain of avoiding you and pretending like nothing is wrong. And most of all, I am tired of dropping nothing but achingly subtle hints as to my feelings on this. I am tired of playing defense."

"So what do you want to say then?"

"I want to tell you....that I think you made good progress today, telling Will about us. And before you lose all that courage you found, I want to tell you one final time that we can make it through it all together. Any criticism we receive, we can easily combat. Because we will have each other to lean on."

He moved closer to Guy, causing the thin man to press himself against the side of the narrow hallway. Guy thought he might still be speaking, but all he could focus on was that beautifully sculpted face just inches away from his own. He had a sudden strong, almost urgent desire to press that face up against his own. He felt his breathing quicken. His hands were clammy and sweat was beginning to form around the nape of his neck.

He wanted to....so badly. Just to feel how his body felt one more time. And he might have given in too, if one of the stage crew hadn't at that moment appeared in the hallway, lugging some sort of equipment. Guy quickly shoved Chris away from him. The man gave them an odd look, but kept walking.

"Do you see why?" Guy whispered in frustration. "That look he gave us -"

"Was just a look. And despite popular belief, looks cannot kill a person. Unless you are Will. But you told him about us, and he was fine with it wasn't he?"

"There is an immeasurable distance between a friend and a million or so fans."

"You're right, there is. Your friends matter and the fans don't. It doesn't matter what they think about us. Are you really going to deny yourself true happiness just for the ignorant opinions of people you haven't even met?"

"I'm sorry Chris," Guy whispered sorrowfully, "but it matters."

Chris watched in agony as Guy pushed away from him and continued to walk on. But unbeknownst to him, Guy was in just as much agony.

He did not know what to do. He was prisoner to his own fear. The only thing he believed he could to was not to resist it. If he tried to fight back, the consequences would be worse than anything he felt now. Or so he thought.

He hurried quickly to the hotel they were staying at. He needed a calm place to think.


Chapter 7
In his hotel room, Guy was laying on his bed and staring up at the ceiling. He wished he had his record player with him. He figured a time like this called for some Joy Division. But instead of hearing the beautiful sorrow-filled singing of Lou Reed, John Cale, or Dug Yule, all he had were his thoughts.

And there were so many of them. They circled around and around inside of his head. His mind was a battlefield, but neither side was winning. It was World War I at the western front all over again.

Exhausted by this, Guy drifted off into a restless sleep. He dreamed of many things, most of them unsubstantial. Just bits and pieces of this or that. These did not stay with him long and he forgot them even before he awoke. But there was one recurring vision in his head.

It was of a man; a poor, ragged man. He was in a cage and he looked miserable. The view switched suddenly, and now Guy was inside the cage looking out. There was a crowd of people, all laughing and quite happy together.

Music started up from somewhere and suddenly the people in the room were paired off with another person. They all danced as couples and each couple looked supremely happy. The man called out to be set free, to be included in this dance. But he would receive only one answer.

"You are the one with the key." Frustrated, the man let out a cry.

Guy awoke suddenly and found that he was the one who was crying out. His shirt was soaked in sweat, and he was shivering. It was the worst dream he had ever had. More accurately, it was a nightmare. But now he knew what he had to do.

* * * * * * * * * * *

The crowd was loud and enthusiastic. They bounced up and down to the faster numbers and swayed back and forth to the slower ones. They sung at just the right times, whenever Chris commanded it and even sometimes even when he did not.

In a strange way, they were preparing Guy for what he was about to do. It was as if they were all making all the noise they could to encourage him. Or maybe to just numb his brain and keep him from thinking long enough for him to actually go through with this.

Chris sung the ending bars of "Lost!" and then they all prepared to walk out to the c-stage. Before he had time to back down, Guy marched up to his microphone. He coughed into it, and thousands of eyes looked at him in wonder of what was going to happen next. A few people whispered to each other, no doubt saying that this is not what usually happened. Chris, Jonny, and Will raised their eyebrows in question.

"Before we...uh....go to the c-stage, I'd like to say something very quickly. Chris, come over here...please." Chris shot him a "what are you doing?" glance but walked obediently to the left side of the stage.

"Before we continue I would just like to say one thing about Chris, because I cannot contain it all to myself any longer. I....am in love with him....and have been for a very long time. And I no longer care who knows it." He started out quietly but his voice slowly grew in volume until he was practically shouting. He then reached over and grabbed a surprised Chris, kissing him hard on the lips.

The crowd was silent, but after a few torturous moments they burst out cheering. There was the occasional call of "fag", but Guy didn't pay any mind to it. He was staring at the man of his dreams, who stood there open-mouthed and blushing. But he managed to whisper an "I love you too" before Guy grabbed his hand and dragged him off to the c-stage.

* * * * * * * * * * *

The hotel room was dark, but Guy could still make out the beautiful profile of the man sleeping peacefully next to him. It was very late, nearly dawn. But Guy didn't mind, despite that fact that they had to catch their plane that morning. He had to catch up on all he had been missing for ten years or so. He couldn't possibly sleep for sheer joy, so he laid in bed and thought.

Sure, he knew that things would not always be easy for them. But ironically, everything seemed twice as easy now than when he had concealed the relationship. He stroked Chris's hair lovingly.

If Guy had been able to make it a decade or so without the warmth of Chris next to him in bed every night, then he felt he could certainly make it through anything. Besides, now they had each other to lean on, and that was all they needed.



THE END