Our dorm borders on a fringe of wooded area that haphazardly surrounds the entire University, the pine trees a ragged line several miles deep closing in on the mouldering buildings. Relatively flat, the valley, as we call it, makes for great walking terrain where one can lose all sense of time and reality. You can go in there at midday and then come back out after sundown and not feel the time at all. Something about the trees, the scent on the air, and the feeling of solid, ancient earth underfoot lends towards deep introspective thought; a place where all deception and treachery is put aside for solitude. It is a crisp autumn day when I enter the woods; the sun is low on the horizon, the end of the day beckoning it back down into its hidden slumber for another night. The valley is filled with a surreal twilight glow, the trees becoming elongated giants in the strange half-light.
Their branches stretch widly and with abandon towards the muted sky, a myriad of black tangle against a soft blue darkness. I can feel the trees all around me: a gathering of strange and ancient spirits, speaking strangely in a language I can hear but never hope to understand. They rise out of the ground with impassive solidness, their gnarled trunks and jagged branches seeming to ward off any hope of sunlight to touch the ground and light my way. No matter -- I've walked around in here too many times to reasonably count. I've got Shae's old coat wrapped around me: a shapeless grey mass that is as soft as distilled silk, grungy as a horseblanket and warmer than a bearskin. He never wears it anymore, not since that day in woods like these, when we were seventeen. I shiver slightly in it now, not because I am cold, but because I can feel the darkness of night slowly seeping into the world, triumphing over the sun once more, lowering the ability to keep the illusion of safety and normalacy.
I walk aimlessly, not watching my feet move me along, my eyes locked on some blank space a few feet in front of me, my thoughts a red rage of turmoil. It has been two weeks since that unfortunate incident in his truck, and other than a bit of polite aloofness from him for a few days afterward, I have not heard a single word spoken about it. Things are back to normal, except for those moments when I catch him looking at me strangely, and I return his gaze only for him to quickly look away as though it never happened. He's had two dance recitals since, and I've been to both, sitting in the back row, watching helplessly from above as he weaved his magic on the endless stage. He never knew I was at either of them, but every once and a while when he was dancing, he would look up and through the shadows at the back, directly, it seemed, to where I was sitting. I would hold his gaze, unbeknownst to him, now completely unafraid what might be seen in my eyes because now he would not be able to see them. And when he would stare back at me, a small chance of a smile would grace his lips, giving him a look that was both erotic and sage-like at the same time. Needless to say, I've been steadily plunging head first into the metaphorical soup-pot of love with each tiny move he's made.
Now I don't even realize that I stare longingly at his back during every class until I am hailed upon by a disaproving professor, and even then I return back to staring once the sharp eyes and words have left my reality. While doing homework, I belatedly discover that during class I've scrawled his name all over my notes, quotes from songs that mirror my frustration and desire, and half-profiles of his face, seen from a distance and always surrounded by wreathes of fire. Half the time I throw them out, face burning, but other times there is nothing I can do but sit there and stare at them, wondering if I'll ever be able to get over this, while fighting back those unavoidable tears.
Sighing softly into the silent air of the valley, I lift my gaze to the trees, silently beseeching them to whisk me away into the sky and fix me.
"I'm broken," I whisper to them uselessly. "I'm broken and soon I'm gonna shatter if I don't find some solid ground somewhere..."
For long moments I stand there, sightless and soundless, my eyes shut to the world, my hair falling in touseled strands on my eyelids, my arms wrapped around myself protectively. I can feel the air seeping through my jeans, brushing my skin coldy. Under Shae's coat I'm wearing a navy blue shirt with the words "Cheer Up! The Worst Is Yet To Come!" scrawled across the front in huge silver letters. It does nothing against the cold that I can now feel pooling through the jacket to assault me. As I turn to go, however, I come face to face with Shae, who is standing a few feet behind me, tall and slender in the night, hands shoved in his pockets and his fair face lit with the glimmering light of the stars. I blanch in startlement, and he takes a step forward.
"Hey... " He says quietly, his voice seeming to echo eerily in the stillness and mist. His gaze locks on mine as he approaches, and I am frozen to the spot.
"Hi," I manage, and pale even further as he looks me up and down, a look of wonder registering on his features.
"My coat," he says slowly, and pulls a hand out of his pocket to reach out and touch it, his fingers gliding down its worn smoothness for a moment before pulling quickly away again. The look in his eyes stops the thoughts running in my head. It is a look so suddenly old and weary that it sends a chill stabbing through me. Regret, for a moment, glistens like tears in his eyes, brighter than any star and sharper than any blade. A shooting pain zaps through my chest as I see it, magnified even further by his next words. "Didn't know you had it."
Before I can answer to that, however, he has looked away and started walking slowly. I follow him after a moment, hurrying to catch up with him. We walk in silence for a while, me concentrating fixedly on our shadows slithering across the bumps and hollows of the ground, and him staring straight ahead. I hunch further into the coat, wishing I could just discard it. His golden hair looks silver in the nightime light, the stars dancing like fairy dust in the highlights. His eyes look dark, flecked through with shards of diamond brightness, like two orbs of shattered glass in the night. The silence soon starts to become heavy and cumbersome, and I am aching to rid it somehow, but unable to find anything to say. But Shae, as always it seems, comes to the rescue, by putting out a hand to gently halt me in my walk, and points at the sky.
I look up slowly just in time to see a shooting star fly over our heads with the swiftness of a dolphin in the deepest of waters. Starlight, star bright, I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight...
"That's two I've seen tonight," he says softly, gazing contemplatively at the sky. "Been out looking for you for a while."
I look back down at him, and he turns to face me, slowly lowering his hand from barring my way.
"Why?" I ask wonderingly, watching how the light on his hair seems to drip onto his cheeks, giving them a metallic glow.
He shrugs slightly and we continue walking.
"Haven't seen you all night. Started to get worried."
I nod, and don't say anything in reply. Nothing to say, really.
"Did you manage to get that essay finished for McGinn?"
I sigh as I hear this, and shake my head mournfully. McGinn is my Ancient Rome Studies professor; I had an essay due today on the highly boring role of the Heterae in male social circles.
"Nope," I say, and grin back at his impish smile.
"Good going," he says philisophically, and runs his hands absently through his hair. "Maybe that could be a thesis all on its own: the Heterae were either so vitally important or so completely useless that the topic alone should be self-explainatory."
I laugh softly at this, and shake my head.
"I don't know. Something tells me she won't pick up on the subtleties of that."
He grins again, his teeth glittering like ivory in the darkness, and the smile on his lips is so gently infectious that I grin stupidly back.
"You'd be better at it than I would. Imagine me trying to explain the importance of female prostitutes. I'd probably end up with something so horrible and sexist McGinn would burn her bra off and throw the ashes in my face."
I shudder at the thought of my wrinkled old professor burning her bra off, much less wearing one. Shae watches me do this and laughs, the light, joyous sound dancing merrily around the ghostly landscape. But yes, Shae... imagine ME trying to explain the usefulness of any female right now...
"Well, we're moving into the crazy emperors now, so that should be better to write about. Lots of murder and mayhem. And poisonings, too. Interesting, those."
Shae grins and laughs an evil chuckle.
"Mmm, yes. Maybe you can explain just how insane Caligula actually was... hey, maybe even make it a term project to discover the validity behind the claims that he tried to make his horse a consul!"
I muse on this for a moment, and then break out into a broad smile.
"Yeah, and just to make it even more interesting, I could throw a little science into it and blame his insanity, like all the other wacked-up old fools, on the lead pipes that their drinking water flowed through. Maybe I could even use a test subject..."
Shae's eyes light up with mischeiveious delight, and he nods emphatically.
"Yeah.... Leia."
I have to smile at this, even only at his grin and bright, glowing eyes.
"Or no... wait... she's probably too busy fucking the shit out of her new, muscular boyfriend..." He adds with a scowl, kicking at a random pile of dirt at the side of the path as we pass it.
I sigh, and try not to let my conscience grab too much of my attention. A lie, yes. But it was a lie to protect our friendship. Sides, at least it gave him reason to hate her more and not socialize with her anymore than he has to. I stay silent, gaze on the ground, cheeks flushing. Thank God it's dark...
"Don't worry about her, please," I say as lightly as I can, pensiveness making my eyebrows furrow.
Shae levels me a pointed look, and shakes his head slowly, shoving his hands into his pockets again, his movement light and graceful on the moonlit path. He reminds me suddenly of Legolas from Lord of the Rings, the way his feet touch the ground with barely a whisper, and the way his body moves through the air as if he, too, were made of it.
"Someone's got to. You're obviously not going to treat her the way she deserves to be, so I've got to lay it on doubly thick."
His smile erases anything anxious I would have replied with, and we are walking in companiable silence once more. We are side by side, the sleeves on our jackets brushing softly against each other, confiding the secrets long hidden and denied. His hand, although in his pocket, is mere inches away from mine, a distance that suddenly seems incomprehensible and stupid; my fingers ache to reach out and find his, be able to hold that glorious creation once more, and feel his jagged, possessive and protective energy pulse through me again. I watch him train his gaze on the stars, his beautiful face caught up in an expression of deep appriciation.
"It's interesting," he says musingly, glancing over at me momentarily. "The dependance we have on others. The human being is the epitome of lonliness and solitude. Being the creatures we are, there is no possible way that anyone else can truly understand us. We come into the world in a singular entity, and our minds are our own, as well as our hearts. No-one else can ever wholly understand them. But yet... we cling to the futile fight of spending our entire lives simply trying to get others to understand. That's all. To get past all the misunderstood and mixed-up bullshit and understand that it's really all basic, powerful emotion..."
His voice trails away on the last word, the tones robed in regretful cynacism. I know he's basically talking about Leia and I, and it makes me sigh gently.
"'Communication is the weakest form of the human condition,'" I quote dismally, and see him smile sadly out of the corner of my eye.
"Mmmm," he replies softly.
"I wonder how many more wars are going to be faught over all this misunderstanding," I venture slowly. I wonder how much more of a beating my heart can take, not being able to communicate to you, I tell him silently. "I wonder if we'll last the next one."
Shae grins without humour, and shrugs expansively, taking in the trees, the soil, the sky and the stars.
"The second Big Bang," he says mildly, and then drops his hands again.
"Yeah, wouldn't that be great," I grin. "And in millenia to come, some highly evolved race will chance upon the smouldering remains of our world stuck in a perpetual neuclear winter, and look at the debris floating around the sun. They'll see peices of Walmarts, Starbucks, Windows application programs... and they'll shake their heads and say 'All this floating shit was blown to peices over communication. Those stupid humans. Not quite able to grasp that empathy is the most basic emotion of the universe. They were too jacked up and high strung to see it. What a shame...' And then whiz away again."
Shae is silent for a moment, and then breaks out into glittering laughter.
"Oh yes," he chuckles, his eyes sparkling with a brightnes to rival the brightest star above his head. "Think of all the low, low prices they would have missed out on at Walmart..."
I grin helplessly at him, and by some unspoken agreement, we both slowly come to a halt. The smiles on our faces are huge, goofy. I gaze at him silently, feeling my heart readying to take flight out of my chest. The clairvoyant light in his eyes becomes more intense with every second, so much so that I feel my every thought is heard by him with the clarity of a yell in an empty space. I want more than anything to slip my arms around his enticing waist, feel his skin and muscle under my fingers, and smell his scent. I want to lay my head on his shoulder, and feel him sigh unconsciously as I hold him close. I want to feel his hair against my cheek as he lowers his head to kiss my neck, I want to feel his strong hands grip me tight, relentlessly, desire sparking through his fingertips. All this builds in my chest, making it feel as though it is about to shatter. My breath starts to come in jagged gasps, but Shae doesn't seem to notice. He keeps his gaze trained on mine, and then I feel his hand wrapping around my wrist, pulling my hand out of my pocket.
"Wish upon a star, Miah," he says in a velvet whisper.
He slips his arm in mine, and we are locked as he directs my gaze up to the sky. I try not to tremble too much as I feel his arm in mine, and look shakily up to the sky. The stars sparkle eluvsively, maddeningly at me.
"Maybe this could all change someday... and we could all just tell each other how we feel..."
As he says this, he presses my arm close to his side. I look down at him quickly, wondering with my heart beating wildly in my chest. What did he mean by that? He keeps his eyes on the sky, but his smile slowly fades, and the brightness of his eyes dims, turns a complete 180. Suddenly there are dark, depthless shadows in the blueness of his gaze. A longing suddenly emerges out of his features, covers his skin in invisible, wanting tears. I stare at this, shocked into silence. He bites his lower lip slowly, deeply, and then closes his eyes, the slow movement of his golden eyelashes like a sunset in slow motion. He is suddenly the perfect picture of sadness, and it shakes me deeply. Worry floods my heart, and I am about to ask him what is wrong when he opens his eyes again. The expression flees his face as quickly as it came, and he is all smiles again as he looks down at me. The smile is changed however; it is one that is weary and almost forced.
"We're almost back," he says, and indeed I can see the residence lights shimmering in the near distance.
I go to move my arm, but with surprising firmness, he denies me of this and holds me still closer. I blink and look at him questioningly. But he says nothing on it, resuming our walk back. Silence falls, one strange and full of whispering questions.
"Wish upon a star," I hear him half-whisper, and then the path ends and we're on the grounds again.
A myriad brainstorm of voices assults my hearing as I sit in the cafeteria in the residence building, people flowing all around me, the smell of different foods driving my senses wild. The cafe is always a busy place, even at nightime; its walls made entirely of glass lends an easy, lighthearted ambiance to the place which subconsciously draws people into its lair time and time again. Sunshine pelts down on the glass with a ferocity that leaves many people blinking disorientedly as they walk in, and the ones already accomodated to the brilliance simply squinting until their eyes are almost shut. I am sitting to the side at one of the sterile white tables, my lunch spread before me and my stack of textbooks making a nice little footstool off to the side. I look distastefully at the poor excuse of a meal I have concocted for myself, and sigh disparagingly. Poking distractedly at the peanut butter sandwich in front of me, (bread gone soggy by a too liberal application of raspberry jam, and seran wrap decorated in the sticky brown paste that is the pulverised peanuts) I wonder where Shae and Brendan are. We'd made plans in our first class to meet up for lunch, and half of it has already gone by. Needless to say, I am antsy; anticipation making my thoughts haphazzard and half-finished, making me look expectantly up as shadows fall across my table. Ever since last night, Shae has been constantly assailing my thoughts, his whispered voice and strange expression haunting my heart.
Slowly I sigh, and I breathe in the scent of the cafe: expensive perfumes mixed with the rugged, sensual scent of aftershave, exotic and ordinary food mingling together to create a tantalizing aroma of unpredictability, and the scent of the people all around me. Their voices are like music, a comforting tide which sustains my current mood of absent introspection: a backdrop of voices to mirror the ones within. I hear laughter, strident voices, see flashing visions of the people that are creating them without actually looking at them. I see the sunlight sparkling in their eyes, glittering off ignored rings as the hands that wear them flash through the air, see nail polish set aglow with brilliance. The rustle of paper is neverending as homework is discussed, pages of books scanned and then turned. All around me is the ectoplasm of life, a teeming brew of perfect, strange magic.
"Hi."
I look up, and suddenly the room seems to take on an even brighter cast. Shae fills my line of vision, and as he throws himself into the seat across from me, the air all around us seems to glow, I can almost see the electrons of sunlight charging up just by being around him. Think I'm joking? I'm not. Other people around us see it too: their eyes flicker helplessly to land on him, and linger there admiringly for long moments, witnessing the stunning, simple beauty of him, hearing the strident clarity of his gentle voice as he speaks. His form fitting black leather jacket clings to his shoulders and chest with a skin tight ease that leaves a few gazes filled with longing, including mine. He gazes at me for a moment, an unassuming expression on his face, his lips already catching themselves in a hopelessly charismatic smile, and his eyes like two beacons of the bluest, holiest light imaginable.
"Hi," I manage to reply, and watch as he tosses a huge pile of paper down on the table.
He glares at it blackly for a moment, and then leans back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head.
"THOSE are my RESEARCH notes for my essay that's due in two weeks. A hundred and four pages -- I counted them out of sheer disbelief -- that are just for research. For ONE point in my essay! One wretched little point!"
I grin wryly at him, and, being my usual cheerful self, point out the fact that he still has three other points to go.
"Shut up, asshole," he retorts, narrowing his eyes in a mock glare at me.
I wink at him, and his smile widens even further, but he is interupted in whatever he was going to say next by Brendan appearing out of the throng of people to pull up a chair next to us. Shae grins lazily at him, running his slender fingers through his hair slowly. I watch him silently; lost momentarily as his fingers glide through the strands with the slowness that a lover might take, and in the way the hair falls softly back into place when he is done, framing that painfully beautiful face with a perfection that makes my hands shake. Watching him exist in all of his heartbreaking beauty, I am suddenly reminded of a line in a Counting Crows song: 'He's suddenly beautiful/And we all want something beautiful/Man, I wish I was beautiful'...
"Hello, Jere."
I shake myself as my name is called, and look over to Brendan, smiling weakly.
"'Lo," I offer, grinning as Brendan shows off his newly dyed hair.
"What do you think?" he queries, turning this way and that, letting the light fully hit the bright orange dred locks that stand out in all crazy sorts of directions from his head. "Stunning? Completely breathtaking?"
Shae chuckles softly and shakes his head slowly, regarding Brendan with a mild expression.
"Mmm," he murmurs, his sapphire eyes shimmering with good humour. "You won't have to wear your backwheel light on your bike when you're riding at night anymore..."
Brendan laughs good naturedly, and then glances over at me. His intelligent hazel gaze envelopes me for the moment, seeming to stop some inches into my skull. Then he smiles slightly, returning his gaze to my eye level. I shift uncomfortably, getting the unnerving feeling that he has stolen something from my head, and wanting to demand it back.
"Leia's been asking about you," he suddenly says, and my eyes widen in instant trepidation.
"Oh?" I ask slowly after a moment, trying hard as hell to sound uncaring. "What about?"
I see Shae slowly sit forward, gaze intent on Brendan, a surly expression already darkening his features. His chairlegs hit the floor with a resounding snap. Please, I silently beg Brendan... don't tell me she's told you... and if she has... please don't say it here...
"Nothing," Brendan says, after a moment's hesitation that is far too long to allow belief of what he's said. "Wants to know.. how.. you... two.. are."
I gaze at Brendan hard, trying to read the tell-tale signs of what I dread he must know, but receive nothing from those sandy coloured eyes. He simply returns my gaze quietly, and then glances over as Shae snorts.
"Tell her we're fine. Tell her if she ever speaks Miah's name again, and I hear about it, I'll make her wish she never heard it in the first place. And ask her if her new boyfriend's got enough muscle to lift all her bullshit off his face..."
I say nothing to this, keeping my gaze averted from Brendan as Shae speaks.
"...I'll do that," Brendan says after a moment. "I'll do that."
Inwardly, I set myself on fire. There you go, Jere. Jump into a vat of acid. You might as well. You're fucked. And if Brendan tells Shae... the acid will be a much better alternative to whatever it is Shae could inflict...
"Bitch," I hear Shae mutter, and he picks up his research notes to rifle through them, his fair features still caught up in an expression of fuming rage.
Brendan flickers his gaze over to me, and then lifts one shoulder in an eloquent shrug, looking down at his lunch as he pulls it out of his bag. I stare down at my lunch unseeingly, my fingers fidgiting around each other worriedly. But my introspective nightmare is shortlived; ending abruptly as Shae suddenly stands up in a flurry of paper, cursing impatiently.
"I left my damn thesis page in English Lit. I've got to go get it before some first year asshole uses it to spit his gum out in... I'll be back."
And with that, he leaves, waving quickly at us in farewell, a fleeting vision of gold and sapphire: a slender spectre of breathtaking elegance in the midst of endless poseurs. I gaze helplessly after him as he goes, feeling my spirit flee my body to follow after him, breathing in the swift beauty that seems to pour from his arms, hands and back. Shae, I want to call out after him, wanting to make him halt in his steps, wanting to make him turn to find me again. I wished upon a star, I want to tell him, and see his face take on a wondering expression, his golden hair gleaming like the sun. I wished for you, I want to whisper. I wished to be seventeen again, and have that chance with you once more. I wished to be in those woods again, while you kiss me, and instead of standing there in stupid shock, I wished I could have a chance to pull you down on the ground and not let you go... wished I could kiss you back til your lips turn red with infused passion and pain...
"What the hell is going on, Jere?"
Brendan's voice startles me, and I snap my gaze back over to him, blushing redly as I realize that he's been watching me stare after Shae. I try to avoid his gaze, but it persues me relentlessly. He repeats his question, and I sigh softly, the frustration of the past long months suddenly overcoming me like a tsunami and making me shake. Weariness envelopes me, making my bones seem like lead, and my heart a sluggish pump of toxins. I must have said something, because Brendan leans closer, asking me to repeat myself. I stay silent however, vainly trying to fight the tears I know are beginning to burn in my eyes.
"Jere..."
His voice is gentle, achingly gentle, and suddenly he is sitting beside me, one arm around my shoulders. His sweater smells like old books and hospital beds, and when I press my face into it, it becomes a warm, fuzzy world all in its own. I can feel my tears soaking into it, and Brendan accepts them without question, simply hugging me gently.
"Jere..." he says softly, in a low tone that no-one else can hear. "Leia told me."
I nod mutely, past being able to care right now. I keep my face buried in his shirt, saying nothing.
"How long has this been going on?"
I shrug blearily and shake my head, speaking in a muffled voice.
"Since about a month before we broke up..."
Brendan is quiet, contemplating, and then speaks again.
"What... made it happen? What made it.. change?"
"I don't know," I manage to whisper, making him have to strain to hear me. "Just one day... I woke up... and fell in love."
He says nothing to this, and after a moment, I compose myself and pull away, wiping embarassedly at my eyes. Drawing my arms around myself in an attempt to feel stable and secure, I keep my gaze on my lunch, unable to think or move. He slowly withdraws his arm from around my shoulder, dropping it back onto his lap slowly, absently. I glance over at him momentarily, depression sweeping through my body in numbing waves, making me shiver as lack of feeling suddenly pounds through my body and then retreats once more. He is watching me; an expression of gentle concern shining softly in his hazel eyes.
"Does anyone else know?" He asks, and when I shake my head, he lowers his voice and speaks again. "Does Shae?"
I laugh curtly and shake my head again in resignation. "Do you honestly think he and I'd be around each other if he knew? I'd have my ribs broken for sure..."
Brendan stares at me increduously for a moment, his eyebrows raised and his eyes widening in slow disbelief. Shaking his head, he starts to laugh strangely.
"What the hell are you talking about? Why would he hurt you just because you happen to.. have feelings towards him? He's gay. He understands that sort of thing."
"We're best friends," I say bluntly, feeling lower than ever as the realization hits me yet again. "It would be too weird. Almost like incest. And... besides... I hurt him... before. When we were seventeen. When I said no. I hurt him... so much. He's.. over me now. He'd probably think I was just fucking with his head or something. And I'm supposed to be straight. It would be one big kick in the stomach for him, I think. And the natural instinct would be to react with not-so-pleasant consequences."
Brendan stares at me as I speak, his eyes wide and bright with incredulty. About half way through my speech, he starts to shake his head dazedly, looking ready to deny something, but me cutting him off every chance he opens his mouth.
"So forget it," I mutter unhappily. "No goddamned way. I'm not willing to lose him."
"Lose who?" I hear, the voice clear and gentle, inquisitive. Ah, shit.
I look up slowly into the eyes of Shae, who has just returned, it seems, the renegade thesis page clutched in one hand. He gazes down at the two of us wonderingly, eyes flickering from one to the other. In that moment, in the face of his ignorance and questioning smile, I feel my heart turning even further into lead, sinking deeper in my body, crushing me, poisoning me. It thuds disjointedly in my chest as I look up at him, and I feel a strong urge to break down into tears as his beauty confirms to me that things will never change. His searingly bright blue eyes lock with mine, lightly probing my thoughts for the answer he seeks. I look down, severing the connection, and merely shrug. It is Brendan who answers quickly.
"His study partner for Lit. I want to trade him... mine just sits around and stares at girls' tits all day."
Shae grins knowingly and flops back down into his chair, ramming the thesis page in with the rest of his research notes and then casting them aside without another glance. I sympathize with the rumpled pages as they slither across the table; as discarded and uninspiring as my heart, cast aside for idleness and the mundane.
"Well, at least Miah could appriciate that... would be better than having me as a study partner. I'd just sit around and try avoid seeing as many tits as I can."
Yeah, I tell him silently, inwardly crucifying myself. And I'd just sit around trying to avoid you seeing the hard-on I've got going on because you're just so wretchedly beautiful...
Brendan laughs, and I manage to grin weakly. Shae reaches across the table momentarily, and prods my oozing sandwich delicately.
"Miah," he says mildly, shaking his head slowly, his eyes sparkling. "You've outdone yourself again."
Brendan giggles, and then points at it, an impish look in his eyes.
"I'll give you a quarter if you lick it..."
Shae looks instantly disgusted and intrigued, an insulted expression dancing merrily on his features.
"To lick that thing? I wouldn't lick it even if I was starving and it was the last edible thing on Earth. 'Sides, what kind of a reward is a goddamned quarter?"
Brendan smirks, and lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug.
"25 cents I bet no-one else would give you."
Shae considers this, a musing expression crossing his face. Then he grins philisophicaly and nods, his hair falling into his eyes.
"True. People would probably demand that I pay them for having to watch me lick it. Do you think Miah wants 25 cents?"
I grumble half-heartedly at this and pick up the offending sandwich (dripping an unrecognisable and slightly nausea-inducing purple mess), tossing it clumsily into the garbage can nearby. They snicker amicably as I do this, and after a moment's introspective silence of Shae glaring accusingly at his notes and Brendan watching me quietly, Brendan pipes up.
"So. This Friday... you guys aren't doing anything in the evening, are you?"
Shae looks up slowly, dragging his eyes off the paper displaying his sprawling, distinct penmanship, and shrugs, shaking his head.
"No," he says, thinking on it, glancing over at me to confirm. I shake my head, and then we both look over to Brendan, waiting for him to clairify.
He grins and then leans back, an engaging expression in his earth-coloured eyes.
"Okay... you know how I work at the liquor store Thursday nights?"
We nod, and Shae's face splits in a wide grin, his sapphire eyes sparkling merrily. I have to grin stupidly at that. Brendan grins back and continues.
"I get anything I want for 60 percent off... so I was thinking.. if you guys weren't busy... we could sit around my room or whoever's room and have a good time of it. It's been so long since just us three chilled..."
Shae nods empatically, and I smile my consent. Brendan gives a small cheer, and we all look over as Brendan's watch starts to beep, signifying the end of the lunch break. Sighing, he stands slowly, gathering his bag into his arms and looking to us regretfully.
"Got to go," he laments, rolling his eyes heavenward. "I've got Social next. God help me."
We laugh and wish him a good day, Shae standing to slap him heartily on the back and then embrace him in a quick hug. He heads off with a wave, merging into a throng of busily chattering people heading out into the campus again. Shae and I remain where we are, but not for long because Shae starts to pick up his notes page by page, delivering each of them a withering look before stuffing them unceremoniously into his binder.
"I've got to go, Miah... I need to hit the library before all the goddamned giggling first year girls get there and bug me all day."
I nod slowly, giving him a half-smile in reply to his reluctant goodbye.
"Okay," I say mournfully, standing awkwardly, gazing him in the eyes sadly. He offers me a slight smile, and then walks around the table to stand in front of me. Slowly, with movements that seem drenched in eloquence and galmour, he extends his slender arms to slip around my waist, his hands moving like liquid velvet across my back, emitting a stark eroticsm that makes me shiver in helpless delight. Pulling me close to him, I am enveloped in his strength and gentle empathy, feeling the smoothess of his leather jacket against my face, and the silken softness of his hair brushing my cheek.
"Will you come pick me up after work?" he murmurs softly into my hair, his warm, sweet-scented breath searing my cheek and throat.
I nod slowly, dazedly, feeling my body starting to melt slowly in his arms. I am rendered unable to speak as he holds me closer, hugging me tightly in thanks. I clutch him tightly, his jacket bunched up in stiff folds between my trembling fingers, my eyes closed in desperation. Waves of desire slam through me as his nearness blisters my senses, the quiet sexiness of his voice echoing maddeningly in my head. But suddenly, he is stepping away, his arms pulling away once more, leaving me almost gasping for breath, caught for that one moment in an inability to exist without his embrace.
"See you later then," he says quietly, the sublimity of his burning gaze lingering on my own. I nod stupidly, frozen to the spot, and he leaves, waving at me in farewell, a light in his eyes that again confuses me, the same light I saw when we were out in the valley the night before. I watch him leave, shiver as he looks back quickly, and then am left to my thoughts in the empty cafe, listening to them bounce and slaughter themselves against the glass walls, hearing the endless whispering of my own relentless, stupid desire echo three-fold.
Nervously, I pull myself up into Shae's truck, the keys clasped in one anxious hand. Yanking the door shut behind me, I sit behind the steering wheel that has always seemed gigantic to me, and shove the key into the ignition after a few false starts. I've always felt anxious when driving this beast; its rattling noises and huge interior never seem apparent to me until I am forced to control it myself. And then they worry me to distraction. But Shae never drives to work; he gets a ride in a car-pool, and then I pick him up to go home again. Sighing, I listen to it grumble into reluctant life, and then timidly put it into drive, steering it worriedly out of the parking lot.
As I drive, my thoughts are caught upon the knowledge that my hands are touching the same place his hands grip on a regular basis, and I smile as I remember how entranced I was with his hands when he was driving, strangely exhilarated by the fact that my hands are now in the very spot I was envying before. Silently I will my thoughts into the plastic of the wheel, demanding them to sink into his DNA that must surely be littering the entire surface, to somehow let him know my love and endless want. I grip it tighter, wanting as much of him to come off on my hands as possible, driving absently.
The road becomes one big, long stretch of endless grey matter, and before I know it, I am unconsciously turning into the parking lot of his work, getting out of the car and walking towards the back entrance. Shoving my hands into my jeans pockets, I stare up at the star-flecked night sky, watching my breath forming tiny clouds of condensation on the air. Part of me doesn't want to see him, for fear of the fact that I know my heart will break itself, and I will have to deal with it not being able to have him, but another part is aching to see him, to touch him, to look into the eyes that have stolen my soul.
Opening the back door, I am suddenly in the midst of a bustling building, all one level but stretching forward for what seems to be miles. It is a place that makes steel beams for buildings, all sorts of sizes and densities. Hundreds of forklifts bustle around thousands of people, sparks continually fill the air with orange suddeness, and a million sounds of drills and steel cutters make a strange, ear-pericing muisc. Futilely I look around for Shae, hoping to spot his tall blonde figure in the midst of all the dumpy faceless people surrounding me. But of course, I don't, and I start to head off in the vague direction of his department, hoping it hasn't moved location again in this massive warehouse. The bright flourescent lights sizzle off of whitewashed walls, blinding me.
Shae is the manager of the department that looks after Re-location. His job is to make sure stray skids of steel beams are found and returned to the proper sub-devisions; he is constantly waging war against the Delivery department, endlessly getting on their asses about being irresponsible, forgetful fools. It is a futile fight, but he fights it nonetheless because.. well.. he's Shae. I watch all the people as I pass them by, seeing sparks being reflected in their blank goggles, hearing muffled shouts over the screaming drills. And then I see Shae. He is sitting in the seat of one of the forklifts, a skid of dozens of dark blue pipes held in the steely embrace of the machine. It is not moving however, and he is currently looking down to one of the employees, shouting something over the noise to him. Obviously he is not heard, for I see some irritable waving of hands and Shae's face to grow impatient. After two or three vain attempts to get the guy below to hear him, he angrily turns off the forklift and jumps down, his hair flying brightly. I stop walking.
"WHAT?" I hear, and wince, knowing the other guy is in for a hard time.
The dark-haired man shrugs, and says something intelligible, his skinny, nervous hands flitting about. Shae sighs and stares intently at the man for a moment, his gaze hard and appraising.
"What do you mean you lost skids six, seven and thirty-two?? I just had them lined up three feet away from your post ten minutes ago!"
The man gabbles inchoherently, and Shae throws his hands up in the air.
"Well, GO FIND THEM! It's not my job to find the skids that YOU have lost! I rounded up all the ones missing; it's YOUR job to get them sent off."
The man nods hurriedly and then bustles off, leaving Shae fuming.
"Christ!" I hear him mutter, shaking his head wearily. "All night this shit has been going on... can't they hire someone who speaks proper English for once??"
I watch as he sighs, and lifts his hands to the back of his neck, rubbing slowly. God, he looks so tired, I realize silently, concern washing over me in sudden, debilatating waves. Exhaustion was making his eyes dull, and his expression blank. I step forward and lay a hand on his arm softly, and his eyes fly open, his hands droping. When he sees me, his eyes widen in a mixture of relief and happiness.
"Oh, it's you!" he exclaims softly, his eyes shining. My heart thumps erratically. Jesus.. those eyes..
"Yeah.." I say needlessly, stupidly, and his smile deepens fondly.
"Okay.. I'll be right back. Need to sign out." With that, he has disapeared into the bustling tide of people, and I lose him to the crowd. Sighing softly, I stand there idiodically, watching the spot where he disapeared into, my eyes locked onto nothingness, seeing the ghost of his smile, feeling the memory of his warm touch. The phrase "time and physical distance are the absolute stupidities of the universe" comes into my head, superimposed with the image of him walking away, the invisible robes of glory draped upon his unknowing shoulders. So close to me, all of the time. Few are the hours in the day where he is not meagre inches away from me, where nothing could possibly stop me from reaching out to run my fingers across his arm, over his shoulder and down the forbidden terrain of his chest... nothing to stop that but myself and my fear. So let me rephrase... "fear is the absolute stupidity of the universe". But the little voice in my head rears its insistant, annoying head, and reminds me again that the fear might not be unfounded, that the heartstopping angel I desire might turn against me in a fit of rage... and I would lose his divinity. Lose Heaven forever.
"Golden gates..." I whisper, unaware that my voice is slipping into the air surrounding me. "Golden gates surrounded in pain and fire... banished to me forever by the angel himself... the god of suffering and tears..."
"What?" I hear, and I blink, spinning around to find Shae behind me, carrying his backpack over one shoulder and a quizical expression donning his face.
Chagrin nervously sweats upon my skin, and I shake my head in trepidatious embarassment, stammering.
"N-..nothing.."
He frowns slowly and tilts his head slightly, pinpointing me under that unnervingly intelligent gaze, the blueness of his eyes threatening to render me comatose. Then a smile breaks out on his soft lips like a sudden shaft of light into a dungeonous hell, and he chuckles softly.
"Ah, Miah. Always the poet. But always spouting it whenever I'm not around."
I shrug wordlessly at him, unable to think of what to say to that, and he chuckles again.
"Lets go," he says, and takes my hand, pulling me towards the exit doors.
I follow blindly after him, not seeing anything around me, barely feeling the floor underfoot as I am pulled. His hand becomes my world: dizzyingly I experience the strident warmth of it, the strong ease of his slender fingers holding mine, his palm a centre of unbelievable heat seeming to pulse with the screaming of my heart. I see our hands clasped together, watch how the smooth fairness of his skin contrasts with my tanned flesh, his clean fingernails resting lightly on the back of my hand, and my dirty ones barely daring to rest on his. His wrist extends into his forearm, and I follow its supple, strong ascent as far as I can before I lose it to the uniform steel blue of his work uniform. The roughly hewn sleeve rests absently on his arm, chaffing it haphazardly, completely unaware of the perfection it clothes. Silently I curse, feel a jealousy of it stabbing stupidly through me: I want to tear it off and replace it with my lips, my tongue, any available part of my desperate body...
But the cold air outside shocks me away from completing any such sordid thoughts, and I gasp as the sharp aqeuousness of it slams me back into reality. His fingers still hold mine, but we are nearing the truck, the bright redness of it signifying another closeness of him, but also a deadly, unbearable separation. I grip his hand tightly, and he doesn't seem to notice, still heading towards the truck, the night wind in his hair and making his eyes sparkle with unchallenged and beautiful life. The moon pours down its diamond brillance upon his figure with such intensity that it makes my eyes water, making his hair look like spun mithril, and his androgynous, fair features to become awash with a holy radiance almost as stunning as the light from his eyes.
With a smile, he lets go of my hand slowly, leaving me in the darkness of the truck's shadow as he moves around to the other side, and it is belatedly now that I realize that the moon's brightness did not cause the moisture in my eyes, but the song in my heart and the longing in my hands. Ashamedly I wipe the tears away on the impersonal surface of my coat sleeve, see them create a darker shadow on the fabric that becomes a temporary, give-away map of my inner purgatory. Angrily I wipe at it and then drop my hand, not allowing myself to look at it anymore as Shae leans over and opens the passenger door for me.
"It wasn't locked," he informs me, holding his hand out for the keys as I get in.
I flush, kicking myself. "Shit... sorry," I manage to say, reaching into my pocket and closing around the cool surface of the keys, pulling them out and handing them to him, watching them glitter in the starshine. "I forgot."
He smiles at me and shrugs peaceably, starting the engine and doing up his seatbelt.
"It's okay. I just couldn't figure out why you were standing there like that..."
Of course, I don't answer this, and it is idle chit chat until we get back to the residence. Along the way up to our dorm, we are accosted by all sorts of friends and others, people stopping to talk to my golden-haired friend, not seeming to notice his obvious impatience with their growing multitude. I stand behind him, covered in the blissful darkness of his shadow, seeming to have become invisible and welcoming it. Eventually, however, he manages to weave his way through them, and with a low snarl he opens the door to our dorm, lets me get in after him and then slams it securely shut.
"Man!" he exclaims wearily, tossing his backpack into an absent corner and walking slowly over to his room. "I don't understand why all these people seem to think I'm so great to talk to... surely they must have some sort of.. hobbies... anything... other people... boyfriends... girlfriends..."
I grin to myself and stay silent, not volunteering an opinion on that one. It is true... whenever he walks into a room, it seems like every living thing in there stops to interact with him.. even the air.. the light... the shadows...
Kicking open the door to his room, he slowly drifts inside, his fingers working at undoing the buttons on his work shirt, moving absently and without thought, unaware of my burning gaze locked upon them hungrily. A hundred times I have seen him undress before, and a hundred times before it has never occurred to me of the complete, anihilating sexiness of his body. I stand there silently, watching him pace in his room, vaguely aware of the the soft, dark colour scheme of the walls, bed and floor; distantly I see his dark purple sheets and pillows, the navy blue of his carpet and walls, and the hundreds of strange but captivating photographs adorning his walls. Soft music wafts out of the doorway: the harrowing melodies of Enigma and Leseim creating an almost otherworldly cast to his space. His back is turned to me, his head bowed, fatigue making his shoulders sag slightly and his fingers clumsy in their attempts to rid himself of his shirt. But slowly he manages to get it off, the ripples along the back signify its release as it suddenly slips off his shoulders and falls to the floor, where he leaves it.
I feel my body react as though it has been snapped at with a whip; arousal and crushing lust suddenly spiral their way up to my dazed brain from his smooth, slender back to my stirring groin. The soft light in his room makes his skin look like pale caramel, invitingly soft and maddeningly smooth. I can just barely see his ribs as he stretches, the whispering erotica of his waist telling me things I shouldn't listen to. The muscles in his arms ripple like strange serpents underwater, and his shoulders become dunes in a desert of golden perfection as he lifts his arms to yawn. His fingers land on the back of his neck again, where they start to rub at the muscles there, a soft, husky sigh slipping past his lips as he does so. Before I am aware of what I am about to do, I have already crossed the living room into his territory, coming to a stop right behind him. My hands lift without intervention of my screaming brain, and my fingers caress his shoulders, beckoning him to lower his hands.
He doesn't jump like I belatedly expect him to, shock riddling my body as I realize what I am doing. He doesn't move at all except to lower his hands and his head to droop even further. Then, unbelieveably, I hear a soft moan that makes my legs suddenly want to overide their joints and send me flying to the floor, and he speaks sighingly.
"Mmm... one of your massages would be excellent right now, Miah..." he breathes softly, stepping backwards against me, the warmth of his body sending my senses on a wild, crazy rollercoaster.
I blink and jerkily nod my assent, my fingers beginning their work on his silken skin, slowly moving across each muscle in his shoulders, my thumbs pressing in as firmly as I can make them. Rubbing them in slow, spiralling circles, I hear him whimper softly, rolling his shoulders slowly to get the full effect. The sound of his voice caught up in a sound so entirely vulnerable and intoxicating makes my thoughts freeze, my whole body seeming to be stuck in permanent arousal. The whimper singes into my skin, making me shiver, and slowly dances down my spine, making my vision blur and my hands to tremble. His hair brushes my face lightly, the nape of his neck being mere inches away from my lips..
"I wish I could think of a way to repay you for these, Miah," he murmurs drowsily, fatigue making his voice husky and downright lascivious.
I swallow my words hurriedly and say nothing, closing my eyes to try and block out the incredible vision of him being putty in my hands, letting my fingers think for their own selves. He is so caught up in the feeling that I can feel him rocking back and forth slightly with each pressure of my hands, his hair sending tantalizing wafts of sweet scent up into my face. My fingers slip and slide across his skin slowly, letting no inch of it go untraversed, memorizing the slope and curve of his muscles as I move downwards, onto his back. I am rewarded suddenly with a gasp, and his body stiffens.
"Ahhh...mmm. Right there...please..." he moans faintly, making my fingers jerk involuntarily, pushing deeper into his skin than intended.
I try not to shiver as his voice shatters my mental wall, and I stay where he asked me to, my thumbs pressing deeply against the skin-covered muscle. He arches his back against me so that his shoulders are touching mine and his hair is lying on my chest. You want a way to repay me... let me slip my arms around you and kiss your neck, kiss a trail down your spine making you gasp, make you want to grab me and shove me up against the wall, cover my aching mouth in the kisses that I have craved for so long.. feel your fingers pull at my shirt, hear your groans of desire pound through my head...
I can feel an erection throbbing in my pants, one so hard and unavoidable that it makes me simulataneously pale in fear and convulse in pounding pleasure. But he's still pressing against my hands, still breathing deeply, his eyes closed in ecstacy, completely ignorant of the lust boiling behind him. God... so close... so fucking close... I could just slip my arms around his waist and hold him against me, feel that beautiful, firmly rounded ass as I pressed myself against it... hold him moaning in my arms as I thrust... my hands working him through his pants... my name dripping like liquid sex off his tongue... so hard... so ready... so fucking needy... vulnerable... throbbing in my hands... grinding against them... tears of pain and pleasure rolling down his cheeks as he comes, half-whimpering my name... flooding his boxers with the sacred white fluid that I've so long dreamed to taste... feel it soak through his jeans...
Oh, Christ... what am I doing?! I stop myself as I realize I am heading for the exposed satin of his throat, my lips burning to place a fire-hot kiss to that salty skin. Inches away I manage to stop myself and quickly snap back, my hands abruptly falling away from his shoulders. He hasn't noticed my predicament. Oh God... don't... turn around...
"Thanks..." he whispers softly, and as he starts to turn, I suddenly whirl around and head out the door, wishing him a hurried goodnight. I don't stop to hear his answer or see his reaction. Running into my room, I close the door as calmly as I can and then lean against it, slowly sinking down into a heap on the floor, flooding my carpet with burning tears. Clawing at it uselessly, I cry until I can't feel the tears running down my face, I cry myself into a dreamless sleep... rage and furious frustration shattering my every hope and dream...