Chris peered out the little peephole in the door of his first-story apartment. It was three o'clock in the afternoon. It was almost time.

 

The television was on in the background, but Chris payed it no attention. He was too focused on the door.

 

After standing totally still for a few minutes, legs burning with the itch to move, Chris finally saw what he was looking for. The main door to the apartment building swung open and a man walked inside. He was dressed in a tan button-up short-sleeve shirt, tan shorts, and he carried a messenger bag at his side. Just as he stopped in front of the numbered boxes built into the wall, Chris opened his door.

 

“Hey!” the man heard as he pulled a few envelopes from his bag.

 

“Hello,” he uninterestedly replied without looking up.

 

There was silence for a few minutes- apart from the dull sound of Chris's television leaking through his door, which was still partially open- as the man began to open some of the boxes with his fancy keys and Chris watched him.

 

“It's a nice day out, isn't it?” Chris casually asked.

 

“Yeah,” the man boringly answered. “Lots of sun.”

 

“Maybe I should get out there once in a while, then I wouldn't be so pasty!” Chris laughed. The man looked up at him and smiled kindly.

 

“Yeah, maybe.” Chris didn't even notice the sarcastic bite, too distracted by the man's vibrant green eyes.

 

The man went back to his work and Chris fidgeted around, trying to think of better things to say.

 

“Anything good today?” he said of the envelopes. He was really desperate now.

 

“I wouldn't know.”

 

“Oh, right.” Chris sighed and frowned a little. The man turned to him and held out a few envelopes.

 

“Have a nice day,” the man told Chris as he took the envelopes.

 

“You too!” Chris chirped and cheerfully waved as he watched the man leave. He spun around and returned to his apartment, already counting down the hours until the next day.

 

Briefly he looked at the mail; it was just junk. And a letter from his mother.

 

Chris, it read, Don't forget we're visiting Friday.

 

He would have indeed forgotten had it not been for the reminder, though why his mother felt the need to write instead of call was a mystery.

 

---

 

Chris was making himself some lunch when the knocking came. He answered the door and let his parents in, offering them something to eat.

 

“Nothing for me, dear,” his mother said. “I've had a large breakfast this morning.”

 

“Dad?”

 

“I'm fine, thanks.”

 

“Well, all right. Just have a seat over there,” Chris pointed to his rather small sofa in the middle of the living room, “and I'll be right back.”

 

For a few hours the three sat and chatted, discussing mostly the goings-on of Chris's parents' lives. His father was retiring soon, and his mother's hair salon was taking off very nicely.

 

Suddenly Chris became aware of the clock ticking in the background. It grew louder and louder with every second that passed, until finally Chris could take no more. In the middle of his mother's story, he promptly snapped out of his trance and asked for the time.

 

“Nearly three,” his father said as he observed the watch on his wrist.

 

Chris quickly and remorselessly abandoned his parents, bolting to the door.

 

“So, Chris, you don't have a girlfriend?” his mother asked, having seemingly forgotten about continuing her story. Or maybe she just didn't care anymore.

 

“No,” Chris replied as he pressed his eye to the hole in the door. Any second now.

 

“Oh, well, don't you worry. I'm sure one day you'll find a girl who-”

 

Chris threw open the door and clumsily tried to close it as he slipped outside.

 

“Geez, you're eager today,” the man said, characteristically staring at the mail he held in his hands.

 

“Well, my parents are here,” Chris defensively said. “Spending hours with them has made me remember that I don't care for them all that much.”

 

The man laughed, actually laughed, and looked up at Chris. “Yeah, I know how that goes. My parents are dreadfully boring company. Always asking me if I'm married yet, like it's some sort of imperative thing that I get hitched as soon as I can.”

 

“My mum just asked me if I have a girlfriend,” Chris enthusiastically replied. It was the first time he felt he had something in common with the mailman.

 

“Do you?”

 

Chris shook his head. “No.”

 

“Neither do I.” The man quickly returned to his job, leaving Chris behind to look a bit stunned. It had sounded way less conversational than Chris thought it should have; for a minute he wondered if maybe the man was hinting at something.

 

And Chris thought the man's green eyes lingered a fraction longer than they normally would have when he gave Chris his mail. As he left, Chris had to really try hard to pull himself together, and he almost forgot that his parents were still there. He acted like everything was cool and calmly walked back into his apartment.

 

“Sorry about that,” he untruthfully said, “I had to get the mail. It was... well, I was expecting an important letter, and-”

 

“Did he give it to you, then?”

 

Chris's composure faltered a little. “What?”

 

“The mailman,” his mother clarified, though not making the situation any better at first, “he gave you your important letter? You certainly look like something happened.”

 

“Yeah, I got the letter,” Chris quickly lied.

 

“What's the letter?” his father inquired.

 

“It's nothing.” Chris paused momentarily, then went to drop the mail into his room. When he returned he sat down with his parents and spaced out again, once more counting away the hours.

 

---

 

When Chris woke up, it was a lot later than he thought it was. The clock by his bed looked like it said 2:03, but as his vision became clearer he realized it said 3:03.

 

“Shit!” Chris jumped out of bed, ran as quickly as he could into the hallway, his socks sliding against the wooden floor nearly causing him to crash into the wall. He panted as he regained his balance, a little bit sad that his near-death experience had not made the mailman look up.

 

On the bright side, Chris figured that meant he hadn't exactly embarrassed himself. All he needed on top of being seen in his pajama pants with untamed hair was to make a fool of himself. But the mailman seemed to know everything that was going on around him anyway, without even needing to look.

 

“Are you expecting some big package or something?” he asked. “Why are you always running out here?”

 

Chris didn't have the confidence to tell him the truth, so he just kept his mouth shut altogether. The man rolled his eyes and sighed, still focused on the letters in his hand.

 

“Whatever it is, you're going to end up killing yourself one of these days. Then you won't get any mail at all.” He stuffed a few envelopes into one of the boxes then looked at Chris. “Can I ask you something?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Don't you have a job? It's just that you're always out here...” Chris grew a little nervous at the sound of the man's voice; he sounded more uncomfortable than curious, which Chris took to be a bad thing.

 

“I work at night,” Chris quietly answered. He gazed down at his feet and scuffed the floor a bit. “I come out here to get the mail.”

 

“Oh. Well, there's no mail for you today. Sorry.”

 

Chris slowly nodded his head. “OK. I... I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then.”

 

“No, you won't,” the man said.

 

Chris looked at him with sad, frowning eyes and asked, “Why not?”

 

“Tomorrow's Sunday.”

 

“Oh.” Chris hung his head and turned to leave, until the man called for him to wait. Then he looked back up.

 

“You... could see me tomorrow, if you wanted...” he said.

 

“What do you mean?” Chris asked.

 

“Well, you know,” the man nervously began. He shook his head. “Uh, never mind. I'll see you Monday. Just be careful not to die while you're doing all that running around.”

 

Chris felt his spirits lift a little at the man's concern, and he smiled. “I'll be careful.”

 

---

 

There was something wrong. Chris was quite certain that it was a mailman who delivered his mail everyday, and not a woman. Yet, standing right in front of him and clearly possessing female body parts was this person who was trying to hand him his mail.

 

“Where's, uh...?” Chris was too confused to remember how else to use the English language to speak.

 

“Jonny called out sick today,” the woman kindly replied, reinforcing that she was trying to give him his mail by holding her arm out further. “Said he's got the flu or something.”

 

Chris took the letters, but very absentmindedly; inside he was freaking out completely. His feelings for the mailman and his instinctual need to exaggerate the awfulness of situations put into his mind the image of poor Jonny, laying in bed dying. That's how messed up he was, but he couldn't control it. He wanted to control it, and reason that people get sick. It's nothing to fret over.

 

But he couldn't do it. He walked back into his apartment, shaking badly and nearly crying. He collapsed on his couch, and the only thing that might have kept him sane was that when he stared down at his letters just to have something to look at, he noticed that there was one that looked very different from the others. Mostly because this particular letter wasn't actually stamped or anything, it was just an envelope that said Chris on the front. It looked like it had been cleverly attached to the back of another letter in order to slip past the mail carrier.

 

Chris opened it, forgetting for a moment about the missing mailman. Whoever had written it had wonderful penmanship, not that it really added much to the letter. After all, if it was some sort of death threat, it wouldn't matter that it was beautifully scripted.

 

It wasn't a death threat, which Chris kinda figured. It was a letter from the mailman. He didn't really foresee that part.

 

Hey... I'm not actually sick today.

Well, I am. I do feel sick, at least. But it's not the flu, or any actual virus.

I was just really nervous, which made me feel like I wanted to vomit. So instead of seeing you today and telling you this, or having to see the look on your face when you read it, I thought I'd call out and just send it to you anyway. Yeah...

 

It seems that, in the time that I've noticed you coming to see me everyday, something has developed. Something that I didn't expect to develop, and that I'm not sure I really want, but I guess only time will tell.

This is very difficult for me to write. I'm glad I decided not to actually say it to you... yet. You'd probably have my lunch all over your shoes if I did.

 

This is probably really inappropriate for me to be telling you and stuff like that, but I think I like you. You know, more than I should. More than in a friendly mailman-mail acceptor relationship sort of way, or whatever.

I want to date you kind of like. I'm not sure that's appropriate. Or that you feel the same... You probably don't. That's cool with me.

 

Just thought I'd let you know. Uh, don't hate me, please? I promise I'm not a creeper or anything, if you tell me you're not interested, I'll go away. Well, not entirely, since I still have to deliver your mail, but you know what I mean. I won't bother you anymore if that's the case. I'll just stick to giving you your mail.

 

Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow, I guess... No, I still feel like I'm going to vomit.

 

-Jonny

 

Chris drew a sharp breath as his body realized that he hadn't been taking in any oxygen since he read the words, “I want to date you.” He really did start crying this time, but only because he was overwhelmed with happiness.

 

---

 

The hallway was quiet, which was scary and unusual. By now, he should have heard the soft creak of the door and quiet footsteps, but all Jonny was surrounded by was silence. It greatly unnerved him.

 

One by one he went through the mailboxes, taking out the outgoing mail and stuffing more envelopes in. He had desperately hoped that by the time he got to Chris's mailbox, the crazy curly-haired man would have shown up. But he didn't.

 

Jonny's hands trembled a little as he opened the box. There was only one thing inside. He grabbed it and was just about to drop it into the bag when he realized that it was a note addressed to him.

 

Jonny took a deep breath and held the paper up. Slowly he unfolded it, half-closing his eyes because he was honestly afraid to see what it said, even if it was good.

 

For such a large-sized sheet of paper, the actual note was miniscule. All it said, in small letters in the middle of the page, was I want to date you, too.

 

Jonny breathed a sigh of relief but was unsure of what to do afterward. Luckily, he didn't have to make a decision, because just then he heard that oh so familiar creaking noise. He was even more glad to see Chris's smiling face than he normally was.

 

“You have no idea how happy this makes me,” Jonny said, lifting up the paper in his hand.

 

“Actually, I think I do.” Chris stepped closer to Jonny, hands clasped behind his back and a wide grin plastered across his face. “But maybe other people might not.”

 

“Right. Well, uh... who cares about other people?” Jonny laughed and waited for Chris to say something else, because he was too excited to think of anything.

 

“Jonny, when do you get off work?”

 

“In a few hours.”

 

“Hmm. Then maybe you could stop by,” Chris said with a wink. “After all, you know where I live.”

 

Jonny laughed a little and smiled brightly at Chris. “That sounds perfect.”

 

---

 

“It's not... It's not, like, whorish to do this, right?”

 

“I think,” Jonny said, “it doesn't really matter once it's already been done. And believe me, it's already been done.”

 

Jonny leaned over and pressed his lips to Chris's. Then he laid his hand on Chris's side and slid it down to his unclad waist. Chris kissed him back with a furious passion, locking his fingers into Jonny's messy hair.

 

“You know what? It's not whorish,” Chris panted, “because I spent, like, weeks talking to you almost everyday. So it's not like I just met you or anything.”

 

“Right,” Jonny agreed. “Plus, I can't imagine anything that good could be deemed with such a negative term.”

 

“Yeah.” Their lips met again, but soon Chris was moving further down, kissing along Jonny's jawline and down his neck, stopping briefly at the crook where his neck and shoulder met. Jonny closed his eyes and reveled in the feel of Chris's tongue. When Chris pressed their bodies together, he could hardly control himself.

 

Chris stopped momentarily and shined his blue eyes in Jonny's face. “Jonny... is it whorish if we do it again?”

 

“Uh... maybe.”

 

Chris thought for a few moments. “Fuck it,” he said, and Jonny laughed.

 

“Yeah, that's what I'm talking about.”

 

 

-

-

The Race

 

kind of short, but I feel it covers what I wanted

 

 

 

Hearts, we all have them. They’re about the size of your clenched fist. They pump blood to your entire body. They create a constant lub dub sound. Some have holes and major problems. Some beat too fast and others too slow. They on average beat 72 times a minuet. Sometimes a heart needs an electric shock to keep it pumping, others need surgery to fix problems. That is the average heart, mine is a bit different.

 

My heart is like a racecar, it’s constantly shifting gears when you’re around. It always starts out at a steady pace, but then you always do something amazing and my heart does a flip and speeds up. It tries to make the normal lub dub sound, but then I see the flash of your smile and my heart starts to sing a melodic tune. I can walk around our home and my heart would be about the average size, but then I see you laughing and my heart swells in my chest till it feels like it will explode. There aren’t any holes in my heart, because you have filled them all with your tender moonlight kisses. I get an electric shock everyday, not from a machine, but from your hot breath on my neck. And no surgery can fix any of this because I am a disease and the only antidote is you.

 

Everyday I awake to see you lying next to me tangled up in the sheets. Your chest rises and falls in a slow intoxicating pattern. Your cherry lips are pressed together in a slight smile. Your hair is just as chaotic as it would be when you’re awake. Everyday I thank my stars that you’re mine that you choose me, out of anyone in this world you picked clumsy me. Everyday I kiss the deep scars on the right side of your chest and I lay my head right above it so I can hear and I can feel your heart beating.

 

Your heart beats in synch with mine now, it no longer has holes or stutters. I was fearful that your new heart would change you. That you wouldn’t love me, but you never feared. You knew that it would beat stronger and longer. It would have even more desire and lust for me; it would continue to create havoc with my heart. But I wouldn’t change a thing.

 

You’re awake now and I can feel your hands gently caressing my back. I look up and see your eyes. Those damn sultry green eyes. You smile and lean down and kiss my lips. We need air and we sadly pull apart. I can’t help it and I steal an extra kiss, but you don’t mind you enjoy it as much as I. The race is on and my heart is in the lead and your sitting in my passenger seat.

 

 

 

-

Only Shooting Stars

 

 

 

"I can't do this."

 

Chris sat in the corner of the room, huddled up against the wall with his knees pressed firmly against his chest. He was rocking a little, his thumb nervously sliding over his bottom lip. "There's no way I can do this," he said.

 

“You wanna talk about not being able to do this?” a woman screamed from a bed across the room. “Try pushing an eight-pound thing through your-”

 

“It'll be fine,” the voice of reason, known to most as Jonny, interjected as he walked to where Chris was sitting. “You'll do fine, Chris.” He knelt down and rested his hand on Chris's shoulder, then looked up at the woman. “You'll do fine, too, Carrie.”

 

“OH, thank you, Jon, I was worried.” Carrie rolled her eyes. “It's not like I haven't done this before.”

 

“I'm sorry,” Jonny pointlessly apologized.

 

“Uh huh. If you were really sorry, you wouldn't have made me go through this.” Carrie threw her head back and hurled a blood-curdling scream into the air as he clutched her stomach. Chris watched her, his breath rapidly becoming more and more unsteady, until finally he was completely hyperventilating.

 

“Jonny... Jonny,” he kept saying, reaching out blindly, eyes still focused on Carrie, as he tried to find Jonny's hand. He held the mass of fleshy and muscly bones in his own hand, though the profuse sweating made it hard to keep his grip.

 

“Just breathe, Chris,” Jonny instructed him. He started to breathe deeply, and Chris tried to follow him, shaking every now and then. When Chris had calmed down, he closed his eyes, and Jonny brushed his free hand through the curls nearest Chris's ear, pushing them back behind the cartilage. “It's all gonna be OK,” he whispered.

 

Chris lifted his eyelids and let his head roll against the wall until he faced Jonny. “I don't think I can be in here,” he said, “when... it happens.”

 

“Are you sure?” Jonny softly asked.

 

“Yeah, I'm sure.”

 

“Then you might want to leave now,” the doctor said. Chris snapped his head up; he hadn't even been aware of the doctor's presence until just now.

 

“Now??” Chris's eyebrows scrunched together, and Jonny noticed his breaths becoming uneven again. He helped Chris stand up, then slowly led him out the door.

 

“I'm gonna go back in there, OK?” Jonny said, leaning over Chris, who was sitting in one of the chairs in the waiting area. Jonny brought his hand up and gently stroked Chris's cheek. “I'll come get you when it's over.”

 

Chris nodded, unable to communicate otherwise. As Jonny walked away, Chris bent forward and collapsed his torso, resting his weight on his elbows and burying his face in his hands.

 

It seemed like hours until he saw Jonny again. During the wait, he couldn't stop thinking about everything. He was going to be a father... what did he know about being a father? He read some books, but he was thoroughly convinced that none of the material sank in. Even if it did, he didn't think he would be able to put it to good use.

 

Jonny could be a good father. Jonny would be a good father. For that Chris was relieved, but he was still worried about his influence over their child. What if their son or daughter grew up to be some maniac serial killer, all because he couldn't parent correctly?

 

Part of him wanted to run back into the delivery room and tell Carrie she could keep the baby. But what would she want with another kid? She already had three.

 

Chris kept his position the same even though he felt someone sit down in the chair next to his. He had already guessed who it was, and the hand that was suddenly rubbing his lower back only confirmed the suspicion.

 

“Are you all right?” Jonny asked.

 

“I'm fine,” Chris said, the sound muffled through his hands, but Jonny understood it clearly. Chris looked at Jonny and sat back in the chair a bit. “...I'm a father.”

 

Jonny smiled and leaned closer to Chris so that Chris could feel Jonny's hot breath on his skin. “We have a daughter.”

 

“We have a daughter,” Chris repeated with shaky wonder.

 

“She has your eyes,” Jonny told him. “She'll grow up to be a beautiful girl.”

 

“She'd be more beautiful if she had your DNA.” Chris's eyes wandered down to Jonny's abdomen, not searching for anything in particular. “I'm a father,” he quietly said.

 

“Do you want to see her?” Chris looked up again and nodded.

 

She really was beautiful already. Of course, really she didn't look much different from any other baby, but it was the pure emotion of the situation that left everyone in the room with a feeling of total awe. It was the miracle of life, and Chris was holding it in his own two arms.

 

“Hello, little daughter of mine,” Chris quietly said to her. “I'm your daddy. One of them, anyway.”

 

Chris looked across the room to the bed where Carrie was laying, Jonny standing beside her. Chris nodded his head in a gesture meant to beckon Jonny over to where he was. Jonny smiled, quickly glanced at Carrie, then walked over to Chris.

 

“This is your other daddy.” Chris leaned over and whispered, “He's much more handsome than I am. Unfortunately you won't be receiving any of his good looks. I apologize in advance.”

 

Jonny beamed at the pair, then smoothed down some of Chris's untamed curls. “See? I told you everything would be fine,” he said. “You're a natural at this.”

 

“What should we name her?” Chris asked.

 

“Well...” Jonny thought for some time. “What was that name we came up with before?”

 

“Elizabeth?” Chris tilted his head to the right. “I don't think it suits her.”

 

“Yeah, me neither. What about...” Jonny paused a second time, but this time he did not speak up again. He felt like any name he came up with was unworthy of being used by the little angel Chris was holding. He also sensed that Chris knew just what to call her.

 

“What about Nova?” Chris looked up at Jonny with his shining blue eyes. Jonny knew that if this kid was going to be anything like her father, an otherworldly name would be perfect.

 

“Nova it is,” Jonny said with a smile. “Nova... Martin?”

 

Chris immediately and firmly shook his head. “Nova Buckland-Martin.”

 

“Why Buckland-Martin?” Jonny asked.

 

“So that she can shorten it to Nova Buckland.” Chris looked at Nova, smiled, and turned back to Jonny. “I gave her her first name, you can give her her last name.”

 

“Technically, isn't you saying that you giving her her last name?” Jonny softly laughed. Chris sarcastically smiled and narrowed his eyes. “Buckland-Martin sounds wonderful.”

 

Just then Nova opened her eyes a tiny bit, but even that was enough to sparkle and bathe the room in bright light.

 

um... a poem... with a title... :uhoh:

 

 

 

You've got my heart in your hands,

and my soul's there as well,

any day without you is a day spent in hell.

Some days you look angry,

like the world's done you wrong,

and those are the days for you I write a song

with lyrics that are awful

but they come from my heart,

and it's not exactly a confession, but at least it's a start.

Some days I feel sad,

when I miss you and your charms,

and all I really want is just hold you in my arms.

It seems we're rather miserable,

when we could be in total bliss,

so, please, I'm asking you, think about this:

Cynical expression rhymes with clinical depression,

do you think that's a sign?

Are we then meant to be?

Let's run out to the ocean or hold hands in the sea,

and why not?

We're already on the beach,

on all the beaches of the world,

and I think it's our chance to let our love go unfurled.

This is our paradise, Jonny,

our opportunity to shine,

so look me straight in the eyes and tell me that you'll be mine;

I'm already yours.

 

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 in general. 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 being alone. I wanted to go back home and apologize to Chris because I felt like a million bucks and couldn’t have cared less about my pride. I would whisper a 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 would 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 figure lying in 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 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 red 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 really 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. But first there was one more thing I had to do.

 

I slowly kneeled 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. And then a true, searing pain ripped through my heart.

 

I lost it completely. I tore every book, videogame, 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 memories. They ignited immediately. I sat down on the floor and watched our memories burn.

 

Eventually the flame slowly shriveled and then died. Just like Chris. 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 coning from my throat acting as a sort of lullaby. A lullaby to my pain to my sorrow, to my suffering and torment.

 

 

-

White Lips Kissed

 

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 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 floor. It looked like a hurricane had hit. 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 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.

 

 

-

GNOMES

For Brooke:kiss:

 

 

Part 1

 

 

“Where are those two!!?? They have been gone for hours!”

 

“Of course they have Chris! That list you gave them was nearly a mile long!”

 

“It was not! That was just the basic essentials necessary for starting your very own garden. I read it all in the book!”

 

Jonny rolled his eyes as Chris picked up the large red book from the table he stood beside and waved it around wildly in the air. Chris had hardly put it down since he had begun reading it. He almost regretted ever pointing it out to him.

 

He had just been trying to do a nice thing for the poor man. About a month or so ago his long time girlfriend had dumped him, and Chris had been feeling under the weather ever since. Jonny hated to see him so down. Chris had often mentioned a long time dream he had for starting his own garden one day. But after the breakup he had seemed to forget all of his quirky dreams.

 

Jonny decided that Chris needed a hobby, something to take his mind off of his aching heart. And one day while at some old bookstore which Guy had dragged them to, Jonny noticed the book. It was like a bright red sign. It seemed to speak to Jonny. “This is what Chris needs,” it said.

 

So Jonny grabbed Chris by his skinny little arm and pulled him over to it. Chris didn’t seem interested at first. The whole month since the breakup he had been much more distant. But after shoving the book into his hands he somehow convinced him to actually open it. And once he started he didn’t stop. He read that book cover to cover. I think he might even have eaten or breathed in the words.

 

Because now he was certainly eating and breathing gardening. It was all he ever thought about, all he ever talked about. And there wasn’t even a garden yet. Jonny was actually beginning to get worried. But he figured that this was better than all the moping.

 

He was taken from his musings by the sound of Chris grumbling. He looked up to see the man pacing wildly back and forth on the patio of the home he shared with Jonny. It was technically Jonny’s place, but ever since the end of the relationship Chris said he couldn’t bear to live in his apartment anymore.

 

Jonny was more than willing to open his doors to the man. He had plenty of space, and if he was being honest, more times than not he felt lonely in the large place. It was nice to have another person there.

 

Someone to come home to. And even someone to fight with. Yes, he even enjoyed arguing with Chris. It was better than arguing with himself, which he had a tendency to do when he was alone with nothing but his thoughts.

 

Sometimes he still did argue with himself. Lately the arguments were worrying him. They were all centered around Chris. About whether or not he should do certain things. Should he ask him to go to the bar with him when he was looking particularly depressed? Should he hug him when he shivered with the cold? Would it be okay if he sat so close to him on the couch that their legs were touching?

 

He didn’t know what to think anymore. He had never wondered about these kinds of things before. Or maybe he had, just less frequently. But now that Chris was always around there were always questions like that nagging at him.

 

At one point he had become so troubled that he had brought the matter up with Guy and Will. They weren’t much help. They barely even said anything in reply. They just exchanged looks and then turned to him and shrugged. That was just a few days ago. And it left Jonny more confused than ever.

 

Once again Jonny was pulled sharply away from his thoughts when Chris uttered a cry of frustration. “Where are they!? The sun is setting! Look at it Jonny! It’s sunk more than halfway down the sky already!”

 

Jonny took a deep breath and prepared to try calming the excitable man. Then he let it out again in a sigh of relief when he saw Guy and Will coming through the back gate, large boxes filled with supplies in their arms.

 

Grunting, Guy set his box down hard on the table. “Geez Chris, why didn’t you just ask us to buy the store for you?”

 

“Don’t be such a little baby, Guy. So Chris wants a garden. I don’t think it’s much to ask, especially considering what he’s gone through recently.” He whispered the last part through clenched teeth so Chris couldn’t hear.

 

Guy grumbled loudly, but then went back to the front where the truck they had taken was parked. There were still several more boxes to unload. Most of them were filled with soil. Some contained various gardening tools. There was one box that was filled to the brim with all kinds of seeds, both for flowers and for vegetables. Chris had made it clear he wanted to start this garden from scratch.

 

Jonny helped Will and Guy to carry the remaining boxes out back. Chris was too busy panicking. At one point he actually began to yell at the sun. Then Jonny sat him down and gave him a lecture. That didn’t do much. Then Will gave him a harsh glare. He calmed down considerably after that. He even came around to the front and stood still long enough to overview the unloading of the boxes.

 

Everything was going fine until Guy grabbed the last box. When he walked by Chris, Chris saw the contents of the box and let out a shrill screech. Guy screamed in response and dropped the box on his foot.

 

“Fuck!” he yelled, hopping up and down. “What the hell Chris!”

 

Will hurried around front, followed by Jonny. “What’s with all racket over here?” he asked, not sounding too pleased. Jonny just watched the scene, trying not to chuckle.

 

Chris had a look of pure terror on his face, and Guy looked absolutely furious, yet at the same time it was hilarious to watch him bouncing around on one foot while Chris stared at the box with his eyes bulging out of his head as if he had seen a ghost.

 

Guy pointed at Chris and spoke through clenched teeth. “CHRIS happened,” he growled. “I was carrying the box and he started screeching like a fucking howler monkey during mating season! So I dropped the damn thing on my foot. I think it’s broken….,” he whimpered.

 

“Enough of your whining Guy. You sound like a little girl. Your foot is about as broken as that brand new record player I just bought.”

 

“Yeah…..about that. It might have had….an accident yesterday.”

 

Will’s face turned red. He looked like he was about to explode. “Take a deep breath,” Jonny advised him. He did, multiple times, before he managed to calm down again.

 

“Chris, why did you scream like that?” he asked, turning to the horrified man. “You act like you just got stabbed!”

 

“Oh Will….it’s FAR worse than that,” he replied, shakily.

 

“What, Chris?” Will rubbed his face with frustration.

 

“There…there…..there are GNOMES in that box!!!!”

 

 

Part 2

 

 

Will just stared at him. He couldn’t believe what he had just heard. He opened his mouth to say something anything. But he was cut off by Guy.

 

“What’s wrong with gnomes!?” he asked. “I LIKE them!” He turned up his nose in a smug expression. “And that is why I bought them. They will make a great addition to the garden.”

 

“I will NEVER forgive you for this!” Chris declared, jabbing one long finger into Guy’s chest.

 

“YOU will never forgive ME!?” Guy exclaimed indignantly. “YOU’RE the one who broke my damn foot!”

 

“Your foot’s not broken! You’re standing on it!” Chris cried, pointing at Guy’s feet, both now planted firmly on the ground. “I’M the one with something broken! My poor little innocent spirit….utterly destroyed upon looking into the eyes of those horrible creatures!”

 

He fell dramatically to the ground and moaned. Guy rolled his eyes. Will shook his head. Jonny bent down and stretched out his hand to Chris. “Stand up, man. You are embarrassing yourself.” Reluctantly, Chris stood. He crossed his arms and continued to glare at Guy. Guy glared right back.

 

“Alright…..enough!” Will said. “You are both acting like children. “Now what we are going to do here is compromise. There are two gnomes in this box. We will put one of them in the garden. And the other one we can take back to the store.”

 

Both Guy and Chris opened their mouths to protest. But a serious glare from Will made them think twice. Reluctantly, Guy bent down and picked up one of the gnomes. “I’m sorry little guy, you’re going to have to go back to the store tomorrow.” He cradled it in his arms. Then he noticed the stares he was receiving.

 

“What!? I love this little guy!” Then he turned on his heels and brought it back to the truck.

 

“We really need to get that man a girlfriend,” Jonny whispered to Will. Will nodded.

 

“Take that box and put it on the front porch,” he told Jonny. If we even have any time to do any gardening today, thanks to Dumb and Dumber.”

 

“Hey!” Chris exclaimed. “I heard that! And for the record, Guy is Dumber.”

 

“Whatever, Chris. We need to get started on this if we are going to get anything accomplished before dark.”

 

“I guess you are right,” Chris admitted. “Come, Jonny! Let’s make magic happen!”

Jonny shocked himself by wishing Chris meant that in some other way. But he pushed those thoughts out of his mind and followed Chris to the backyard.

 

The four men worked hard and even in the few hours that had left to work that day they accomplished quite a bit. More than half the soil had been evenly distributed on top of the rocky surface that Chris had deemed the sight of the garden by the time the last sliver of sun slipped behind the horizon.

 

“Well I think we’ve done all we can do for today,” Will said.

 

“Yeah….I’m beat,” Guy added.

 

“I should probably be getting home now.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous Will, it’s already pretty late, and my house has plenty of room. Why don’t you just stay here for the night? As a matter of fact, why don’t you both stay? That way we will be able to finish the garden bright and early tomorrow morning.”

 

“Thanks Jonny, that would be great.”

 

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Guy added.

 

“Alright, well if you give me a few minutes I will prepare the guest room, and one of you can take my room. I will sleep on the couch.”

 

“Don’t be silly Jonny! I am just a guest in your house too. I will take the couch, and either Guy or Will can have my room.”

 

“No, it’s okay Chris.”

 

“Jonny,” he said fervently, “I would really like to sleep on the couch.”

 

“What’s the big deal?”

 

“Because…..there’s no lock on the window in my room. What if the gnome gets me!?”

 

“Chris, if the gnome comes after you, you can come sleep with me. But if it would make you feel better, you can have the couch.”

 

They tried to whisper, but Guy and Will both heard them and exchanged looks. A plan was quickly forming in their heads.

 

“Guys, we’ll be right inside. First we will clean up the yard a little,” Will said.

 

“Yeah, it’s the least we can do, since you are letting us stay here and all,” added Guy.

 

“Alright,” Jonny said. “But don’t take too long, or the gnome might get you.”

 

“Hey!” Chris exclaimed.

 

“Kidding. I know the gnome is a serious threat.”

 

Once they were out of earshot, Guy rolled his eyes. “I don’t know how that man can tolerate Chris. I wouldn’t be able to call that piece of plastic a threat without laughing.”

 

“Well, he is in love with him,” Will noted. “Love messes with the mind.”

 

“That’s true,” Guy agreed.

 

“Now….if you are thinking what I am thinking, we need to-“

 

“Grab the gnome and place it in the living room for Chris to see!” Guy completed.

 

“Yes, exactly. And then he will go running to Jonny, taking his earlier statement completely seriously. Which, I’m sure, he did mean seriously, in some distant corner of his mind. By the way he acts around him, it’s pretty clear to me that Jonny would love nothing more than to share a bed with Chris.”

 

“Yeah, really,” Guy said. “It’s actually kind of revolting, the way he looks at him.”

 

“Oh stop, Guy. You’re just jealous because the only relationship you have had recently is with a plastic garden decoration.”

 

“Fuck off,” Guy told him. Then he stalked off to the front porch, picked up the gnome out of the box, and tucked it carefully it in the large front pocket of his sweatshirt.

 

Later that night, Jonny was sleeping peacefully in his room. Chris was tossing and turning on the couch. Will lay wide awake in the guest room, waiting to hear the plan go into effect. He heard the slight creak of the wood in the hallway as Guy crept out of Chris’s room, carrying the gnome in his hands.

 

Quietly, Guy placed it by the couch in a place where Chris would be sure to see it if he was woken up suddenly by, say, a sudden noise. Perhaps like a spoon hitting a pan. Guy crept towards the kitchen, but stubbed his toe on some piece of furniture in the dark.

 

“Shit!” he whispered, but loud enough to wake Chris. Guy could hear him stirring. He hadn’t intended for things to turn out this way, but it worked just as well, and he quickly snuck back to Chris’s room before Chris noticed him standing there.

 

Not a minute after he was back in bed, he heard a loud cry from the other room. Then he heard the pounding of two feet, running, no, sprinting, down the hall and into Jonny’s room. Guy and Will heard whispers of exclamations, but they couldn’t make out what was being said.

 

Then there was nothing but silence. The two men decided there was nothing to do but wait until morning when they could see once and for all if their plan had been a success.

 

Early the next morning both men crept out of bed and down the hall to Jonny’s room. They peeked in through the door and grinned. Jonny was sleeping on his back with Chris’s head lying on his chest. His arm lay across Chris’s stomach. Both of them slept peacefully with smiles on their faces.

 

“Ahhh, gnomes” Guy whispered appreciatively. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

 

 

White Lips Kissed

 

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 wash my hands from any bloodguilt.

 

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. But I would not 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 at 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 Guy Berryman. 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. Berryman.”

 

“Nonsense! Call me Guy. 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 I 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 proclaimed 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; I had to react to that in some way, no matter what the situation.

 

“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.” Clearly he was speaking of Chris. 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 9

 

 

“So mate, what did she say?” Jonny asked while he and Chris were on the treadmills at the gym.

 

“Well I did what you said, I wrote her a song and sang it to her and then got down and opened the box and asked her.”

 

“And.. what did she say?”

 

“No, she said that she can’t marry me.”

 

Jonny forgot he was running on the treadmill and fell off. “Shit! That hurt, wait what why?”

 

“She said she couldn’t, because she thinks my heart belongs to someone else.”

 

“Has she lost all her marbles? Is it that time of the month? Your like crazy for her!”

 

Chris mumbled a short yeah under his breath and focused on running.

 

“Well shit man maybe you should wait a bit and ask again?”

 

“Maybe..” Chris increased his speed and tightened his grip in hopes he would feel less like punching Jonny.

 

“You don’t think she was cheating on you and she felt guilty?”

 

“JONNY, just just uggg!”Chris grew angrier at this conversation and decided to go take it out on the punching bag instead of Jonny.

 

Jon looked over at Chris as he was mauling the bag and felt his heart go soft. He thought to himself ‘ Chris is kind of cute when he’s mad, his checks get that perfect shade of red and he squints his bottomless ocean eyes as if he is concentrating on sewing a delicate design. He bites his bottom lip then blows it out and repeats. Crap! Jon stop it! He’s a guy you’re a guy. You like girls! Girls who have breasts and and you gotta get out of here!

 

Jon quickly left the gym almost tripping on his way out the door. He ran home and quickly jumped in the shower in hopes to clear his head.

 

Chris looked up from punching the stuffing out of the bag to see Jonny watching him then suddenly turning at running out the door. How bizarre he thought, he didn’t even do free weights? He looks so muscular when he is lifting. His eyes shine with determination to try and lift heavier weights each time and then he always breaks out into an incredible smile when he succeeds. He is rather cute when that happens and OH MY GOSH! She was right!

 

------------------------------------------------------------

 

Katie sat at her desk writing a letter when she heard a knock at the door. “It’s open.” She called out while continuing to write.

 

“Hey Katie, can I talk to you?”

 

“Hmm I don’t know Mr. Buckland, I might have to pencil you in.” Katie turned around in her chair and saw Jonny standing there with that look. The look that says help, I’m lost and confused and I don’t know what to do.

 

“Uh oh, what’s up Jonny? If this is about me an Chris it’s..”

 

“Stop. Katie Stop! It’s not about that it’s..it’s about something else.”

 

“Well in that case the doctor is in! Have a seat.” She gestured to her bed and then proceeded to wrap her legs around the back of her chair to face Jonny.

 

“I well I err suppose I have feelings for someone, but that someone is someone I shouldn’t.. what do I do?”

 

“Is she in a relationship with someone else? Is that why you shouldn’t have feeling for her?”

 

“Uh..” Jonny fiddled with his fingers and licked his lips a bit and then whispered. “it’s it’s not a she.”

 

Katie sat back and grinned and rubbed her hands together in excitement. “I knew it! I knew it I knew it I knew it!”

 

Jonny just stared back flabbergasted. How did she know? I only just kind of figured it out today. No! It couldn’t be.

 

“That’s that’s why you said no to Chris isn’t it?”

 

Katie threw back her head and laughed fairly hard causing her hair to bounce along with her frame. She then got up and a sat down next to Jonny and whispered into his ear “yup” She then quickly jumped up off the bed and ran to the door. Just before she left she turned and said “ you can close your jaw now” and giggled and left.

 

A million thoughts were flashing threw Jonny’s mind at an alarming speed. Yet each one consisted of Chris and what he would love to do to him. Jonny sat there soaking it all in for about 20 minuets before stumbling out of the room and down the hall and out the door. He needed to go someplace to think and the flat was not helping. He needed cheap beer and an awful atmosphere and that was where he headed.

 

 

SPLEEEEEEEEEE....N.

 

 

 

“Oh my God!”

 

The room had been silent until Chris screamed. Everyone was shocked.

 

Having the metaphorical spotlight placed upon his slender frame, Chris lifted his hand to his forehead and feigned distress.

 

“You guys... my best friends... my lover,” Chris momentarily normalized himself and winked at Jonny, “... and Phil...”

 

Phil narrowed his eyes. But he knew he wasn't liked. He was liked, but he wasn't well-liked.

 

“I... I'm dying-”

 

“WHAT?”

 

The sound of Jonny's chair falling to the ground echoed long after his outburst had faded.

 

“Chris,” he said, swooping over to the delusional man, “Wh... How? How am I supposed to live without you?”

 

“Jonny,” Chris said, taking Jonny's hands with tears in his eyes, “I'll always be with you, no matter what.”

 

The music swelled, Jonny and Chris slowly leaning towards each other. The pure emotional intensity of the scene impacted everyone in the room, and Guy reached behind him to find support in the table.

SCRRAATCH!

 

All eyes shot to Guy, who blushed and grinned sheepishly.

 

“Sorry.”

 

He lifted his hand from the record player and the music resumed.

 

Seconds passed, and just before the most pivotal moment, Will said, “Wait a minute.”

 

Chris rolled his eyes with a sigh and asked, “What is it this time?”

 

“I was just going to ask you the same thing. Last week you told us you had the plague- or, you thought you had the plague.”

 

“I had several of the symptoms-”

 

“Hiccups are not a symptom of the plague, Chris!” Will told him.

 

Chris attempted to retort, but failing to do so he resorted to throwing a tantrum. He threw his hands up and collapsed in a pile on the floor.

 

“I'm dying!” he whined. “Why won't you guys believe me?”

 

“Because, Chris, you always overreact to everything,” Will replied.

 

“I do not!” Chris stood up and crossed his arms.

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

“Yeah! Will, when I have I ever been known to overreact?”

 

Will turned around and picked the remote off the table. He hit one of the buttons, and some fancy-pants screen descended from the ceiling.

 

Suddenly an image was projected, Chris bursting into a room where Will had been quietly reading. Chris fell to his knees and waved his arms around.

 

“WILL, WE'RE OUT OF NAPKINS!” he cried. “AHHHHH! OUT OF NAPKINS!”

 

Then the scene changed to Chris banging on the door of Will's apartment.

 

“WILL! I accidentally removed the 'Do not remove by penalty of law' tag on my mattress! Hide me, HIDE ME!”

 

The last bit showed up without an image, just Chris screaming, “WILL! WILL! I'VE GONE BLIND-” A light flipped on, and Chris appeared, standing in the middle of a room, Will by the light switch. “Oh. Thanks, Will!”

 

The clips ceased and the screen returned to its home. Will looked at Chris with an I-told-you-so expression. Chris wasn't having any of that.

 

“Listen, Will,” he said in a most serious tone, “I have appendicitis. I know it. It's serious, and I won't even be able to make it to a hospital.”

 

“How could you possibly know that?”

 

“It's just something a person knows, you know? I am going to die, and I've accepted that. Will, it's time you face the facts.”

 

Will stared blankly at Chris for a minute or so. “Chris,” he began, trying his hardest to at least sound understanding, “why is it that you feel so strongly about this? What makes you believe you're dying?”

 

Chris rolled his eyes. “If you must know, I have terrible stomach pains. Therefore, I have appendicitis.”

 

“You don't seem to be in bad shape... I mean, you're not, like, doubling over or anything,” Guy pointed out.

 

“Well, it's not so bad right this second,” Chris obviously said. “Plus, there was all this loud rumbling, and I thought at first it was a storm outside or something... but no, it was just my appendix bursting and flooding my system with death.”

 

Chris turned back to Jonny, tears splashing down his cheeks. “Jonny... my one true love, Jonny, when I die, I want you to... I want you to have my... my Barbie collection!” Chris fell into Jonny's arms and cried into his shoulder. “Jonny-Ken and everything!”

 

“Chris... when's the last time you ate?”

 

Chris pulled back and shrugged. Jonny sighed and pulled Chris into the other room to save him from embarrassment.

 

“Oh, Jonny, I see what you're doing. One last time on the Chrismobile before I kick the bucket, eh?”

 

Chris winked, or tried to wink, and Jonny just shook his head.

 

“I don't think you're dying-”

 

“No, not you, too! They've turned you against me, haven't they??? Ohhh, my poor Jonny!”

 

“No, it's just that... what you described sounds more like hunger pains than appendicitis.”

 

Chris was quiet for a few moments, then he gasped and opened his mouth about as far as it would go. He looked like some sort of weird smiley face.

 

“Jonny, you are right! You are so, so right!”

 

“Yeah... Maybe we should go get something to eat, then?”

 

Chris smiled and nodded.

 

“Although...” Jonny began, “since we are in here alone... Is that Chrismobile offer still good?”

 

 

Sorry this post has taken so long!

 

CHAPTER EIGHT, PART ONE

 

 

 

 

Jonny’s POV

For the next few days, I spent every waking moment with Chris. Whenever it was daylight, he remained at my bedside, talking away. I do sometimes think he stays overnight, to keep me company and make sure I’m safe. Whenever we could, we had lunch together and told each other stories of our past. Chris was the first real friend I ever had.

 

Everyday, he tried to make me feel better and to make me smile. Chris would always do silly things, trying to cheer me up. One day he even decided to wolf-whistle at a female doctor who was walking past my room. The doctor was shocked and turned around to see Chris smiling at her innocently. He did many other things, but no matter what he did, he always managed to put a smile on my face.

 

Each smile didn’t feel completely right. As if I was happy Chris was helping, but I should instead be mourning. I think that word was “bittersweet”, which Holly used to describe her stays at our house. I didn’t even dare myself to think of anything, or I knew I’d start letting my emotions get to me. Dad, mum and Tim would’ve all wanted me to be strong… but I couldn’t be. I took a deep breath and tightened my fist on my lap.

 

Soon, I felt a wet drop on my hand. I began to whimper- then hiccough. Drop after drop fell, I couldn’t help myself. I shook and shivered, knowing I was alone. “I’m sorry…” I cried out looking up at the ceiling. Another tear rolled down my cheek and I could no longer see anything through my misty eyes. When I heard footsteps coming towards my room, I quickly hid underneath the hospital blanket to wipe my eyes.

 

By the low sound of heels stepping into my room, I guessed they were the same shoes that Nurse Brooke wears. Pretending I had just been awakened, I sat upwards.

 

“Nurse Brooke, will I always live in this hospital?” I asked her softly.

 

She suddenly stopped what she was doing to turn and look at me. Her expression told me she was concerned about me- that she really cared. “We’re going to have to keep you here a few more days until you can support yourself a little more,” she told slowly. I noticed her eyes had become misty before she looked away.

 

I didn’t want to hurt her by asking another question, but I just couldn’t help asking. I needed to know “And then… who will I live with after that?”

 

She took a deep breath “I need to know of any family outside of your parents and your brother. Any aunts, uncles, even grandparents- it is necessary for us to have that information.”

 

“I’m sorry; I don’t have anyone anymore…” I knew I was lying; I also knew what Nurse Brooke was planning, which changed my opinion quite quickly. I would rather be sent home with a stranger than to be placed back under Holly’s care. I loved her, but I could never be sent back to live with her again, I wouldn’t be able to stand it. Nurse Brooke seemed disappointed when she walked out of my room. She began speaking to a lady in a suit who I hadn’t noticed had been standing there until now. They ended up walking down the hall, to some office. I figured that woman was the one sending me away.

 

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

 

Later that day, Chris came by for a visit. It was the late evening, long after Nurse Brooke had gone home herself. Before she had left, she did ask my ideals on post-hospital life. I had no idea what was going to happen, or what was supposed to; I didn’t know anyone, so I would immediately be sent to a foster home. As much as I didn’t want to disrupt anybody by being forced to move into their home, I still wanted to stay with Chris. Wherever I went would probably be quite a distance from where he was, but I was still willing to try.

 

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wished Chris’ family would take me into their home. Although I only knew their two sons, they appeared to be brilliant people. Being with them would also give me the comforting sight of Chris’ smiling face, constantly around. I would never suggest this to Chris; it would be much too rude to ask of someone you just met.

 

“Hi, Jonny!” he chirped. Before I could reply, he immediately shot a question my way. “Can you get up to get fresh air? Nurse Brooke said it would be good for you, when I was on my way here! C’mon, Jonny, I’m pretty sure you can!”

 

Even then, I was unable to answer him; since I had arrived, I hadn’t been outside for any reason. I had no idea what kinds of dangers the world on the outside of my window held, but I was hit hard by what it did. If it were up to me, I would never step foot outside of my squared safety zone, ever. “No, thanks, Chris…” I kindly turned him down.

 

“Aw, why not? It’ll be okay, trust me.” He held out a hand for me, smiling his reassurance. He was so sure of himself- as if saying that he would protect me from whatever awful thing we could possibly face. He looked like there was absolutely nothing to fear out there, that everything we know to be afraid of was a lie. Something about his kindness told me he would follow through, so I took his hand. He helped me get to my feet, supporting me slightly. Before he opened the screen door, he handed me my coat- the same one I’d been wearing the night of the accident.

 

I also remembered something else- the fact every time either of us outgrew a coat, it always needed to have a spot for If Found information. Stitched onto the coat was a sheet of paper-like plastic with slightly faded blue writing. The handwriting had belonged to my mum. She had written my name, our address, her own name and our phone numbers. I stared at the words, trying my hardest to remember when my mum wrote them. I knew it was a time where she was home, a time when they both were here with me, and happy to be there.

 

I held the jacket closer to me, clinging on to the memories I lost. As I did, I couldn’t help letting my emotions win over. I started to cry on my jacket, after I noticed my brother’s scent on the jacket- I’d let him use it as a blanket just a few hours before. Chris turned his head, but didn’t let go of my hand.

 

“Jonny…” he cooed. He held my hand tighter as I cried, moistening the jacket. “I’ll be here with you…”

 

“No, Chris! I miss my mum, my dad, and my brother!” I cried out.

 

He suddenly took me into his arms and let me cry on his shoulder. “I’ll be here, Jonny… you’ll never be lonely, I promise,” he soothed. I continued to cry, but I knew he would always be there for me, even if it took sacrificing his own time.

 

 

 

:cry:

 

 

 

 

White Lips Kissed

 

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 form and angelic face. Occasionally I would be shook out of my trance by a shout of excitement from Francis. This must have meant his favorite team 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. I didn’t want to talk to Francis. 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 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.

 

I stood up and said my goodbyes. As soon as I was out of the building I began to run. 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 stressed in my entire life than I had hanging out with Francis. This had seemed like a great way to let all that tension escape me. It worked magically well. 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 the 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 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 a murderer.

 

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

 

 

-

White Lips Kissed

 

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 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 conditioning 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.

 

 

The White Star

 

Part Three

 

 

 

 

“It’s time.” One of the small women said to the few that surrounded her. “The Titanic is about to set sail!” The group chattered and chattered driving Mr. Berryman mad. Even as the great boats engine began to roar he could still hear the high pitch noises they would make with their mouths.

 

His great dislike of people made him very antisocial. Guy slept in his cabin during the day to avoid the noisy children and the talkative ladies. He wish nothing more than to have peace and quiet in his life, an occasional chirp from a bird or the waves crashing outside the large boat is all he needed to hear, not thousands of people wasting their breath with pointless chat.

 

Soothed by the crashing waves he relaxed and placed his head into the pillow trying to drown out the pollution of the noise. Guy pulled out his ring and attempted to run over the proposal in his mind. No matter how hard he tried his mind wandered to the sea and how much he wanted to see the water.

 

So he would wait for the night, when everything was asleep and calm before he left the room. The dinner bell would ring and Jonathon would come to get him. Guy would insist he was not an elderly man and he could find his way to the dinner hall himself. Jonathon would give him a hurt expression and leave him be.

 

During the dinner Guy isolated himself as much as he could in a crowded room. He offended the young ladies who came up to him for a conversation or a dirty wish they wanted him to fulfill. He ignored the men who asked him to join their poker matches. As soon as he finished eating he headed straight back to his room and awaited the night.

 

The sunset burned on the horizon. The colors blurred together to form a beautiful mix of reds, oranges, pinks and blue. Guy watched it from his room and knew that soon enough the mothers and their families would be off to bed and he could be at peace on the deck.

 

The boat grows quiet as the porthole in the room darkens. Guy considered turning on the gas lamp but, he leaves the cabin hoping there are no longer crowds swarming the decks of the majestic ship. His wishes are answered as he notices only a few stranglers upon the deck. He wanders over to railing and rests his body against the cold bars.

 

The quartet was playing a tune he had never heard before and he turned around to listen. The four men were dressed in matching suits and had been styled to match but, the tall violinist had pinned a small brooch on his jacket that may have been a gift from a female fan or a heirloom from a deceased mother or grandmother. The violinist also seemed to be having a silent conversation with a crew member as he played. Upon closer inspection Guy noticed this crew member to be Jonathon his steward.

 

The group he was with was the silent type yet even though they were human, Guy enjoyed himself being surrounded by these few people.

 

 

 

-

The Streets

Part 1

 

 

Guy flattened the collar of his suit. The purple fabric looked flawless. He stretched his fingers to relieve the stress from the pressure his rings exerted. Also, when he curled his fingers up again his knuckles cracked. It made him look tough.

 

He stared blankly as the woman in front of him threw him the wad of cash she'd stashed in her bra.

 

"That's all of it," she said.

 

Guy took it and fanned the money in front of his face. The timid-looking man beside him just watched, then began to count up the money as Guy handed it to him.

 

The woman exchanged some flirtatious expressions with Guy as they waited for the timid man to finish. The man wrote a few things on a clipboard in his lap, then split the pile in two.

 

"Good work, beautiful," Guy said to the woman. He winked as he gave one of the piles to the woman. The other pile was taken by the timid man and brought into another room.

 

"This month seems to be a good one, huh?" the timid man asked upon his return.

 

"Indeed it does, Chris. And you've been doing a wonderful job, too. Why don't you, uh, take a bonus?" Guy briefly raised an eyebrow.

 

"Oh, well, that's kind of you, sir," Chris nervously stammered, "but I'm spoken for."

 

Guy sat back in his chair and observed Chris. "You are? Since when?"

 

"Last Tuesday."

 

"So it worked out with your friend?" Guy asked. Chris blushed as he nodded his head. "Lucky you. I wish you both the best... as long as it doesn't interfere."

 

"It won't interfere," Chris eagerly replied. "He doesn't even know about this. This job. My job."

 

"Are you going to tell him?"

 

"I might. He means a lot to me, you see. It's not like I would scream it loud to people on the streets, no offense."

 

"Yeah, well, let's keep it that way. Purely for your safety, of course," Guy added. "I mean, the others might not be so kind to you if they know you work for me. They probably know you're the best around."

 

"I wouldn't say I'm the best really," Chris passively said. "There's not so much work involved anyway."

 

"Not much work involved? You've managed to hide millions of dollars over the course of three years. How is that not much work?"

 

"I just mean it's not much compared to all those girls."

 

"Those girls would mean nothing without all that you've done. Hell, without you, I'd have been caught ages ago." Guy cracked his knuckles purely out of boredom. In all honesty, he didn't mind that Chris never believed him. It was good to have a level-headed person around, someone who wouldn't try to pull anything.

 

"I think that was the last girl for the night," Guy said. "You can go home now."

 

"Thank you, sir. Have a lovely evening," Chris replied with a bow.

 

"You too."

 

Chris left the rundown building as quickly as he could. He had to, otherwise he could risk being mugged or shot or something. These parts of town were really dangerous, but he had to do what he had to do. This was the only job option he had available, despite all of his college education.

 

He always walked, even though his apartment was quite a number of blocks away. If he were to drive a car- something he didn't even own, anyway- then there was a high chance of it not lasting more than a few hours in those conditions. He liked to walk, though.

 

Chris was very pleased to be hit with the smell of dinner as he walked into his apartment. After a long day of work, food was just what he needed. Well, one of the things he needed.

 

"Hey. You're just in time," Jonny smiled at him from the doorway of the kitchen.

 

They sat down and ate the delicious meal Jonny had prepared- fettuccine and radishes, an odd yet tasty combination- and briefly touched upon the happenings of their day.

 

Once the food had been consumed entirely, they decided it was time to lay down. With the lights off, Chris could barely see anything in the room, but the small light protruding through the window from the streets lightly illuminated Jonny's figure.

 

"You don't think we're moving too fast, do you?" Chris asked. "Only, it's barely been a week."

 

"But, Chris, we've known each other for nine years. I don't think any of this could have happened soon enough."

 

Chris smiled and sighed happily. "So true... But I still feel like- ...You don't even know where I work, do you?"

 

"Would it make you feel better to tell me?" Jonny asked.

 

"I work downtown."

 

Even in the dim light Chris could see the look of concern on Jonny's face. "Isn't that a bit sketchy around there?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"Who do you work for?"

 

"Uh... Berryman."

 

"Berryman..." The name sounded familiar to Jonny. He couldn't quite place where he'd heard it from... unless... "Is he that... you know?"

 

"Uh huh." Chris bit his lip, hoping that Jonny would take the news at least relatively civilly. He didn't have to like it. Chris wouldn't have liked it.

 

After Jonny had taken a few minutes to think, he shrugged a little and turned to Chris. "I work at Wegmans."

 

 

 

Fate

 

Chapter 5

 

 

Chris had been so engrossed in the journal that he was quite startled when he felt a strong hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see emerald green eyes staring back at him. Chris was astonished how vivid Jon’s eyes were. They had this hypnotic power that was vastly taking hold of Chris concentration. All he saw were the incredible eyes, the soft curve of his check, the strong line of his jaw, and the angelic lips. He wanted so badly to reach up and pull his lips to his, but held back.

 

“Were you able to read the pages I left you?”

 

“Yes but, I err they weren’t really much of anything to be honest. It was a bunch of random entries of people asking the same questions. They would describe the terrible horrors they were facing and then would plead for help.”

 

Jon swiftly maneuvered into the large chair next to Chris and folded his arms and closed his eyes in deep concentration. “Chris, if I can be so bold as to ask, but can you tell me of your family lineage and about your childhood as that might be why you were able to read those blank pages.”

 

“Blank pages? Why Jon they are completely scribbled upon. But if my family is of interest then I guess I must..”

 

“Yes, yes you must, it is of the utmost importance.”

 

“I don’t know much as I was an orphan from the age of 6 on, but my family is from the north, they were of high class until the fire. It was dreadful Jon, I remember I was in my bedchamber and was awaked by the servant boy, he dragged me out of bed and then he opened some mysterious door in my wall behind a tapestry. I remember calling out for my parents and he kept telling me that they had died, that a tall black booted man had come in the night and set our home on fire and was after me. The servant boy told me to run and to never return. So I ran and ran and then I fell and blacked out. Next thing I know I awake in an orphanage and that’s all I can recall.”

 

Jon continued to sit in his chair with his eyes closed for a few minuets after Chris finished. Chris sat back and looked at the pages, flipping them over occasionally. Then Jon jumped out of the chair and crossed the room and closed the heavy library doors. “Chris the servant boy told you the man was tall and had black boots?”

 

“Uh yes, I recall him saying that.”

 

“Chris you should know that the man who killed my parents was also tall and wore black boots. How old are you Chris?”

 

“I will be 29 in March.”

“So were round about the same age and you can read the pages and I can’t.”

 

“Jon, do you know what the initials P.H. stand for?”

 

“I believe they belong to a man called Philip Harvey.”

 

 

Chapter 6

 

 

The clock in the great hall chimed bringing the two men in the library back to their senses. Jonathan quickly stood up from the chair and looked at the time on the clock that was resting on top of the desk. It read 2 in the morning.

“Chris, I think we should head off to bed. Tomorrow my niece will have the day off and I want you to accompany me on horseback to my families’ cemetery. I believe we might be able to find to find more about our mysterious black booted man.”

 

“But of course Jon, When will you have me ready?”

 

“I would like to depart around 8, make sure you have Mr. Berryman cook you a hearty breakfast oh and ask him to prepare us a meal to go on our trip as it might take us some time.”

 

“Very well.” Chris stood tossed the papers onto the desk and turned to walk out of the library, but before he could go 3 steps he had the feeling to bid Jon a goodnight. So he turned around and placed his hand upon Jon’s Shoulder and proceeded to wish him a goodnight and to have pleasant dreams and that he would see him in the morning.

 

Jon felt a sudden flutter in his stomach upon hearing those calming and sincere words; he turned around and quietly wished Chris a goodnight as well. Chris smiled and slightly nodded his head in Jon’s direction and then left the room.

 

For the first time in an awful long time Jon slept peacefully. He didn’t toss or turn, nor did he wake in a cold sweat. Instead he dreamed, he dreamed that he was riding his stallion along the beach. It was a wonderful sight, the sun was seating in exhilarating hues of orange red and deep purple. He could almost feel the cool breeze blowing and taste the salt of the ocean. Out of the corner of his eye another stallion appeared and upon it was a man who had golden curls that bounced as the horse ran. He had crystal blue eyes that shimmered in the sunlight. The man was immaculate. Jon soon realized that the man was Chris, he smiled at Chris and Chris smiled back. Together they both rode side by side down the beach into the sunset.

 

Jon drifted back into reality and awoke with a grin upon his face, he had had the most wonderful dream ever and was looking forward to his day with Chris.

 

Chris walked into the kitchen to see Mr. Berryman busy with breakfast. “Good Morning Mr. Berryman, the smells in here are delectable!”

 

Mr. Berryman turned around with a rolling pin in one hand, “You be right to say that Mr. Martin. You wouldn’t want to know what I can do with this here pin.”

 

Chris sidestepped around Mr. Berryman and backed away slowly, “Quite right you are Mr. Berryman, I wouldn’t.”

 

Laughter could be heard from behind Chris. Chris turned around to see Jon already sitting at the table enjoying his breakfast and laughing at Chris.

 

“Good Morning Chris, I see you and Mr. Berryman are the closets of friends.”

“Oh you know it, if the closest means he wants to impale me with kitchen utensils then oh yes!”

 

“Come now, that’s Mr. Berryman’s standard greeting.”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“Well Chris eat up and I have already asked Mr. Berryman to pack us something, we will leave as soon as you’re done eating.” Jon stood up, thanked Mr. Berryman and made his way to the stables.

 

“Here you are Mr. Martin, eat up.” Mr. Berryman dropped a bowl of porridge in front of Chris.

 

Chris thought to himself ‘Oh yum, my favorite, bland porridge.’ He fought back the urge to chuck the goo at the backside of Mr. Berryman, but thought better of it seeing the knives by Mr. Berryman’s side.

 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“So this is where your family has been buried for centuries?’ The tiny cemetery was located in the midst of a grove of Japanese blossom trees, while the trees weren’t in bloom the trees left a remarkable outline that added to the beauty of the grove.

 

“Yes, those are my parents graves and my sister’s. There is over 6 generations of Buckland’s buried here.”

 

Chris was walking around when he noticed a small stone near the edge of the cemetery. He walked over to it and brushed off the dirt and grime, then gasped.

 

“Jon, JON! Come here I think I might have found something.”

 

Jon come jogging over to Chris and saw immediately what Chris hand seen. On the stone was engraved the words: Fate befell the Martins and the Buckland’s buried here is the reason why.

 

“What.. What could this possibly mean Jon?”

 

“I’m.. I’m not sure, but I think we need to start digging.”

 

The two men used what they could find to dig under the stone. They dug for many hours until they hit something waste deep. They franticly dug around the object and discovered a box. Jon grasped the handles and heaved the box out of the hole. Carefully the two men opened the box, hands trembling.

 

What lay within the box was not what either man expected. It was a simple quill. Plain as any other.

 

“Jon, how is this the reason for the fate of our families?”

 

Jon was furious he felt he was made fun of and cast the box into the trees. “ How the bloody hell do I know? It’s a God damn quill!” He stormed off to sulk leaving Chris to examine the quill.

 

He twisted the quill in between his fingers, this way and that, when something caught his eye. Hidden by the feather were tiny initials scratched into the quill. They were the familiar initials P.H. Chris thought about calling out to Jon to tell him of his discovery, but held back. An idea came to him and he wanted to test it out when they arrived back at the manor.

 

 

Chapter 7

* Just a little warning this chapter is a little graphic*

 

 

So Jon grew weary of the cemetery and bid Chris to follow him home. Upon arrival Jon disappeared into his bedchamber leaving Chris time to go the library.

 

He walked in and closed the doors. Then walked over to the desk and picked up the papers and went over to the corner where the faint red stain was. Chris sat down in the chair and took out the quill. He put the quill to the page and began to write and as he wrote red ink appeared on the page, he looked down at the stain and saw the beginnings of the faint red color to darken and fill in.

 

He then wrote a question on the papers. Who are you? He waited and then a response was written, You already know who I am. Chris sucked in his breath and bit his lip, then wrote back, Are you Phillip Harvey? He waited for the writing and then it came, No, I was him. Chris’ hand trembled and then he asked one more question. Did you murder my parents?

 

Chris looked down at the stain and saw that it was now completely filled, with blood. He then glanced back at the papers, but before he could he slumped forward and crashed to the floor.

 

The door opened and in walked Mr. Champion. “ I knew you were trouble, I knew you would be the one.” Mr. Champion walked over to the desk and took out a key. He unlocked a secret drawer and removed a knife, then walked over to wear Chris lay.

 

“With you gone Mr. Martin your family will no longer be in the way. You escaped me many years ago, but now you lie here with your blood on the floor. No one to lead you to a secret passageway, or to take you into their orphanage.

 

You see Mr. Martin while your father was married to your mother he was not an honest man, he cheated on her with my wife, bless her sole, as did Mr. Buckland’s father. Mr. Philip Harvey was the man who covered for them. I was outraged when I discovered what they had done, so I decided to seek revenge and to destroy their families and them both.

 

I set fire to your home and murdered your parents. I poisoned Mr. Buckland’s sister and slit his parents throats before him. I was about to slit his when I heard a noise. Mr. Harvey knew of my scheme and had been setting clues to help guide some light to someone along the way, it appears it was both you and Mr. Buckland that discovered them. Unfortunately Mr. Harvey appeared that fateful night, he had been creating the papers and pen you were using, I managed to turn the papers into a curse that should a person find the quill it would use their blood to write the messages and fill the stain on the floor just as yours has done and dilute them of any energy.

 

I murdered Mr. Harvey that night as well and hid his body deep in the woods where the foxes would prey on him and take him deeper into the woods. I was determined to come back and murder Mr. Buckland, but was unable to because the old care taker had discovered the scene. I quickly changed and came rushing in and acted the part of astonished and sadden by the loss of the Master and his wife.

 

Now I will murder you and Mr. Buckland tonight and the deed will be done. Mr. Champion raised his knife and stalked toward Chris!

 

The library doors boomed open and in came Mr. Berryman with a butcher knife in his hand. “ I thought you to be a good man Champion, but I guess I was wrong!” Mr. Berryman threw his knife at Mr. Champion. The knife in Mr. Champion’s hand slipped and he fell to the ground.

 

Mr. Buckland came charging into the room with a pistol in his hand. He stormed over to Mr. Champion and pulled the knife out of his leg. “ GET UP! Get up you fowl man. You are dirt to me, no you are lower than dirt you are lower the dust of the earth. I would love to kill you with my bare hands, but then who would I be? The same low life that is you! No, I will not stand for that, so you are to run, run, run, and run. Run until your shoes fall apart and your souls bleed, run until you can’t run anymore. And then crawl you filthy animal. I never want to see you ever again. Mr. Berryman will watch as you run and he will throw as many knives as he feels appropriate.”

 

Mr. Champion ran out of the room followed by Mr. Berryman. Jon ran to Chris side. “Chris are you alright?”

 

“I’m just weak, but Jon how did you know I was in trouble?”

 

“I just knew something wasn’t right in my heart. And then I had this feeling to come to the library, as I ran here my heart began to beat faster and faster and I knew something was about to happen. But that is in the past and now my heart wont slow down and when my heart is throbbing like it is now I know that I need to do something.” Jon pulled Chris off the ground and leaned forward and brushed his lips against Chris’. Then he whispered in his ear “ I think I’m falling for you and I want you.”

 

Chris looked into Jon’s eyes and then kissed Jon, he kissed him with passion and desire. “Jon I want the same thing.” Jon smiled and picked Chris off the floor and carried him to his bedchamber and closed the door.

 

Mr. Champion was never seen again, but tall tales are shared of a man constantly running, the ghost of Jon’s mother never appeared again after the incident, the stain on the floor vanished, and Mr. Berryman continued to threaten Mr. Martin with kitchen utensils. Jon and Chris were lovers until they both grew old and died in each other’s arms while sleeping together on the beach of Jon’s dream under the stars.

 

The End

 

 

The Streets

Part 2

 

 

“Oh no.” The room had been silent for nearly ten minutes. Jonny was almost asleep, but not anymore.

 

“What is it?”

 

“You don’t think I’m a prostitute, do you?” Chris was lying on his back, but he turned his head to face Jonny. “I’m not a prostitute.”

 

“Hey… as long as you’re safe-“

 

“I’m an accountant. I promise. I have a degree and everything.”

 

“Good,” Jonny breathed with relief.

 

“It’s just that there weren’t many jobs around when I was looking, and Berryman- well, he pays very generously,” Chris explained. “Even if he kinda scares me sometimes.”

 

“All right,” Jonny calmly replied. He moved closer to Chris, and Chris smiled as he was brought into Jonny’s arms.

 

“Dude, this guy’s got you beat- uh, no pun intended.”

 

“What pun?”

 

“Berryman, his name’s- never mind. Listen, his girls are takin’ over all your business, dude, you gotta fight back.”

 

Why should he be listening to this pipsqueak? This kid didn’t look a day over nineteen, with his awfully slicked-back black hair and terrible acne. He hadn’t even been aware of this kid working for him until now.

 

“All right. Where are his girls at? Maybe we, uh, we go for a drive. See what happens.”

 

The kid’s eyes lit up and he looked shiftily about the place. “Yeah, yeah, a drive. Yeah, a drive.”

 

“Go tell Horatio to get the car ready.”

 

The kid nodded and ran off. What a bothersome day. As if he didn’t already know that Berryman was taking his clientele. Well, that Berryman would soon learn a thing or two if he had anything to do with it.

 

“Car’s ready, boss.”

 

“Thank you, Horatio.”

 

The car was pulled around the front of the building. As the three walked outside, the kid ahead of the older men, a gunshot went off in the background. It was nothing unusual.

 

“You first, boss.”

 

“How kind of you, Horatio.” Horatio was really asking to be dropped. Did he know who he was speaking to? He didn't need permission to enter his own car ahead of everyone else.

 

“Dude, this is gonna be so awesome! Fraking awesome!”

 

Definitely not a day over nineteen. The kid had been maybe working three months max.

 

“Listen, kid, we're just going for a drive. No one said anything's going to happen.”

 

“Naw, but just riding in this car is bomb enough for me! I've never been in a such a sick ride.”

 

It almost seemed like he was trying too hard. The kid probably was. Everyone tried too hard in his presence.

 

They all wanted to impress him. They wanted his approval for some God forsaken reason. Like he was someone to look up to. Hell, he'd messed up his life, he knew it. He wasn't proud of his accomplishments, as eager as the others were to praise him. He'd even soiled his name, which he regretted keeping in the first place. Some would hear about him, say: “I knew him. I knew that man. He was such a kind boy, wasn't he? Not much of a trouble maker like those other ones. But look at him now. Look at what he's become. What has become of” - He looked at his reflection in the tinted window of the back seat - “little William Champion?”

 

Well, he was no longer little. He no longer had that hair that everyone adored. In order to maintain his rough exterior, he'd shaved it all off. He could grow it back in a matter of months if he wanted to, but he didn't.

 

The streets were nearly empty. He expected them to be. Any girls out that night were probably already gettin' busy. It was pretty late at night, maybe two or so.

 

He hadn't exactly kept his name. People liked to call him The Champ. It was close enough for him to feel a twinge of guilt every time he heard it; the last thing he'd told his mother, as he was sitting at her bedside while she slowly died, was that he would do his best to make her proud. He promised her that she would be able to look down and smile at her son.

 

She was probably grimacing.

 

And he never knew his father, so his opinion didn't matter.

 

“Where to boss?”

 

Will never broke his gaze from the window. The kid thought he was admiring the scenery, but he was really staring into his own dark brown eyes, trying to figure out why he lived the way he did. “Just around, Horatio.”

 

“Yeah, Horatio, keep up with the times. We gotta check stuff out 'round here, you know?” The kid leaned over to Will and lowered his voice, “Berryman's probably got a lot smarter driver, too. Just sayin'.”

 

And he probably didn't have a teenaged wannabe following him around.

 

 

Game Night!

 

 

 

Every Thursday night at 7:42 Will held a game night at his home and every time Game night was over he started planning for the next week. He was a die-hard about his night and was very precise on the planning of each game night. So precise that he planned what foods he would serve along with beverages, he would decided what the appropriate lighting would be and even the air temperature to make sure that his guests were never too cold or too hot. But the most important thing he planned was the game itself.

 

While we all know that Will is known as the gamer of the group that is quite an understatement. You see Will has this closet. The closet appears to be normal from the outside, but once you open the door you will discover that it is massive! The closet runs the entire length of Will’s brownstone apartment and is filled with shelves with hundreds of games. Each game is lit with a tiny spotlight as if they were on a pedal stone. Their shape, color, amount of players, and whether it is a video game organize the games.

 

Last Week the mates played an intense game of battleship, but now Will need to top that. He began his search for the perfect game in the video game section.

 

“Let’s see… I have super Nintendo, Nintendo 64, Dreamcast, Sega, Playstation 1,2, and 3, Xbox, Xbox 360, Gamecube, and Wii. Nope, no, I don’t think so, none of these say epic and I just can’t have that!”

 

Will moved on to other shelves in his game closet.

 

“Chutes and Ladders, haha yeah right, Spongebob’s Krabby Patty Explosion, hmm tempting, Guess Who, uh no not epic! Let’s see epic epic epic hmm Monopoly? I think not, especially not after the last time we played. Chris threw the biggest temper tantrum all because Guy picked the stupid thimble and then he was left with the Scotty dog and then because Chris really doesn’t understand the game he went bankrupt after 7 rounds. Yeah we’re not playing that!”

 

He was in the closet for about an hour pouring over which game to play he had a brilliant idea! Last week after Chris and Jonny had left he and Guy were talking about how Chris and Jonny should just get together already. One of them needed to jump the other! Guy thought that they should set the two of them up on blind dates with each other. While Will thought it was clever he didn’t see it working. But now Will had a genius idea and it involved a favorite game of his. He made sure to call up Guy and tell him the plan. Now all he had to do was wait until Wednesday.

 

For Will the days dragged, but finally Thursday arrived. Will prepared the food, set the perfect air temperature and made sure that just the right amount of light was used. He then got the game from the closet. He opened the box and removed the tarp with the rows of bright colored dots, he laid the tarp on the floor and smoothed the edges so it laid flat. He then removed the spinner and set it on the ottoman. The room was set and now all he was waiting for were his mates.

Guy arrived promptly at 7:42 and grinned as he saw the game set out on the floor.

 

“Will your blinding me with your geniusness! How did we not think of this before?”

 

“Ahh Guy my petite handsome male friend, we were just not thinking of the games. Games they’re magical!”

 

“Right.. well I’m ready to play my part.”

 

“Excellent! They will never see this coming!”

 

“see what coming?” Jonny asked as he and Chris walked through the door.

 

“EEEKKKKK!!! That Jon That! That’s what we will never see coming!” Chris ran over to the tarp and threw himself on top of it. He giggled with excitement and even kissed the tarp. “Will! I could almost kiss you right now! Twister is my favorite game of all time!”

 

Will just chuckled and exchanged secret glances at Guy. “Well It appears that Chris is ready to play, Jon? Guy? You two ready to get twisty?

 

“Absolutely” They both cried out!

 

Will designated himself as the spinner while the others got into position around the edges of the tarp.

 

“Left foot blue” Will Called out. The three men did as was asked. Will continued to call out commands and the others did as they were told.

 

“Right hand yellow!” Guy pretended to reach for the yellow circle, but then ‘accidently’ fell over.

 

“Haha!” Chris called out to Guy. “Your out, that just leaves me and Jonny Boy!”

 

Guy pretended to be upset and stomped over to where Will sat to ‘sulk’. Will shot him a quick smirk and then spun the spinner and called out the next maneuver. Soon Jon and Chris were tangled up around each other trying to put their foot on a colored dot or their hand on another. Will was calling out specific commands so that this would happen. He was hoping that ‘it’ would happen soon.

 

“Uh Will, I think we are getting a bit tangled here, maybe we could get an easy command?” Jonny asked politely as he always did.

 

“No can do Jonny, the spinner decides what you do and if it wants you to be wrapped around Chris then you have to do it!”

 

“Yeah Jonny Boy! It apparently wants me to be just as wrapped around you as your are to me.”

 

“Exactly! Now left hand red!”

 

Chris and Jon tried to place their hands on the red circle but Chris accidently slipped and ended up falling directly on top of Jon.

 

Guy whispered to Will “How convenient.” Will just nodded his head and crossed his fingers.

 

Jon stared up at Chris while Chris did the same to Jon, then like magnets their lips were drawn together. Chris ran his fingers threw Jon’s hair and Jon pulled Chris closer to his body.

 

Will and Guy silently left the room and went into Will’s bedroom. “You’re brilliant!” Guy said as he pushed Will onto the bed.

 

“I know, now kiss me, we probably only have 20 min before they realize we’ve left.”

 

“You don’t have to ask twice!”

 

--------------------------------------------

 

“Ahem” Will stood above the two men making out.

 

Chris and Jon looked up a bit bashful from the floor.

 

“Well it’s about time the two of you got together, but my floor is not the place.”

 

“Aww thanks Will, right err my place Jon?”

 

Jon just grinned and stood up and pulled Chris out the door.

 

And so my friends, that is how the Game of twister brought Chris and Jon together in more ways than one!