December Writing Challenge!

[Mia Keystone]

Mr Brightside

(note: I wrote this at about 4 am, so if it makes no sense, that's why. It's not my fault! It was just there!)

”Clarisse,” Thornton asked his fiancée slowly as he pulled back the curtain. ”That old, ah, boyfriend you mentioned, the Englishman. What did he look like?”

The black haired woman’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, and she looked over her shoulder from her position at the stove. Someone was cooking that smelt amazing, but then, she was always cooking something that smelt delectable. ”Mr Thornton,” she said with mock seriousness, assuming it was one of his strange attempts at humor, ”Why would you want to know about Dalton?”

John made an attempt, and quite a good one, at slamming a curtain closed. ”Because there’s someone at the door, and he’s English,” he said shortly, and before Clarisse could ask how on earth he knew something like that, the doorbell rang.

***

John was not the jealous type. He really wasn’t one for jealousy, or turning saints into the sea, but if this man made one more comment about some French book written decades ago that made Clarisse smile like that, he would... he would…

He would pour himself another drink, that’s what, and try very hard not to snap when this Dalton fellow started to talk about the aroma of the wine.

”What exactly did you do, before you came and then went from Hammel?” he finally asked, and if his usually gruff tone was a tad gruffer, then it was just because he had a sore throat.

***

”He was a fireman!” Thornton was not yelling, he was not. It was just… His expression was thunderous, dark browns low over his eyes. ”Apart from the dancing, and his seemingly endless knowledge of books, art, wine,”
Mason murmured in sympathy, propping his chin on his hand.

”Tough break, Thornton,” he mumbled, then frowned. ”But exs are always trouble. Besides, last time I checked, she was wearing a ring you got her.”

John rested his forehead on his arm and slapped his free hand on the bar. ”Not the point,” he told the bench top, ”You think it’s not hard when Clarisse mentions some painter, and expects me to know who it is? Or, or, just assumes I would know that Chardonnay was a white wine that was wooded, whatever that means?”

The wood was stained with the rings left by the glasses of countless careless patrons, and John found them oddly mesmerizing. Still, with an effort he looked up and glowered at his friend, inviting him to join in the disapproval.

”I’m not jealous, you know,” he added, and looked away to avoid Mason’s incredulous expression.

”Buddy, maybe you’re getting a bit worked up over nothing,” Mason patted the englishman’s back awkwardly. It was like petting a suit wearing rock. ”The guy left, you met Clarisse, you liked it so you knew to put a ring on it. You won, Thornton.”

”He was a fireman!” Thornton exclaimed in tones of utmost despair, ”With a uniform! And he can dance, and speak French, and loves Paris- His forehead hit his arm with a thud. ”I’d want to slit my wrists, if it was even a little bit possible.”

”John Thornton, I never expected you to be the jealous type,” a very familiar French accented voice rang out, and most of the men in the bar turned around to admire the very nice figure of the woman who’d just made her way in. Picking her way across a floor littered with peanut shells and general spots of stickiness, Clarisse rested a hand on the englishman’s rather chipped shoulder. A ring glinted brightly on her hand, and the frustration in the doctor’s green eyes softened as she saw the haggard expression on John’s face. Gingerly, she sat next to him and tried not to think about what might have been split on the bar stool.

”Jac-“ Like a true lady, Clarisse realized her slip and quickly righted it, ”Mr Dalton’s on his way to the airport. He was just dropping by to see how I was, and I was able to tell him I’m engaged to a quite nice, if at times foolish man.” She smiled ruefully, and then quickly kissed his cheek. Both colored a little; they were in public after all.

”I didn’t like his suit,” Thornton said finally, pulling himself to his feet and taking Clarisse’s hand. ”That’s all.”

”Of course, Mr Thornton,” Clarisse replied demurely, eyes sparkling as he squeezed her hand.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Overs

The apartment was nice. That wasn’t surprising, considering that they were the sons of a well-respected doctor and a well-respected stockbroker. Sean had been the one to find the apartment initially, because he had more connections and an uncle who was in real estate. Sean had also made a list of reasons why the Village was a prime location for living, despite the fact that he would have to commute almost one hundred blocks every day on the subway, in each direction. It was near NYU, and all of their friends were nearby, and the Village had a younger community that was better for them than living in Mid-Town. Besides, it was cheaper to live in the Village. And they lived near the parish Sean had visited for four years.

The Nevilles had liked the apartment building and found it charming, which was why they had signed off on the matter without further argument. Additionally, they were getting good bang for their buck, given that they were living in Manhattan. For outward appearances, Josh and Sean each had a decently-sized bedroom. In actuality, they had a decently-sized bedroom, and a decently-sized guestroom for what friends might come in from out of town, as well as for storage and studying.

A one-bedroom would have been cheaper than the two-bedroom, but that would have involved a conversation with parents that neither young man had been ready for when they’d initially gone apartment hunting. Josh still wasn’t ready to have that conversation. Sean had mentioned that he wanted to tell his parents before, and Josh had panicked and tried to talk him out of it. He didn’t know what Sean had said to his parents; but since Doctor Neville hadn’t shown up demanding to have a man-to-man talk with him and yell about seducing his son, Josh didn’t think Sean had told them.

That was probably for the best, given how conflicted Josh had been recently. Everything was just getting worse, because Sean was always there. And when he wasn’t there, Josh felt guilty. Worse, he felt empty and he didn’t know what to do with it. And Sean would talk sometimes, over the breakfast or dinner he had cooked for them both without complaint because they were so domestic, planning out the rest of their lives. And inside Josh would want to protest that he was too young for this, but outwardly he would nod mutely because there was no way to have that conversation.

A few weeks back, Sean had brought home an article about a gay couple fostering children in the City. The hope in his eyes had prevented Josh from pointing out that they were too young. Josh was only twenty-two, way too young to be a father when he was still a child himself. And to make it worse, Sean had just said “later on,” so certain there would be a later.

Now Josh wasn’t as certain.

He’d been using law school as an excuse to put a little bit of distance between them. In fairness, law school was nothing like college. He had been able to fake his way through college classes; he loved to read, and he was a strong writer when it came to argumentative essays. Greg had helped him with math, and Sean had helped him with science, since those were his weaker areas. Not that there hadn’t been some struggles along the way between the lack of sleep and the constant need to be around Sean, but he had survived it relatively unscathed. Being able to take later classes to compensate for staying up all night had helped.

He couldn’t do any of that in law school. His classes began obscenely early, and there was no hiding behind his books if he missed a reading assignment. The professors watched him like a hawk, and the material was far more complicated than the political science classes in college. Now he had to spend countless hours in the library writing legal memos. And sometimes he spent time in the library just to be out of the apartment.

Sean said he understood. Josh didn’t doubt that Sean thought he understood, although he didn’t know how the older man could be so nice about it. Then there was more guilt because Sean was finishing up medical school and didn’t put any of these walls up the way that Josh was trying, and failing, to do.

Sean deserved someone stronger. He deserved someone who could love him the right way. But Josh went back and forth on that, because he didn’t think anyone could have the same level of intense feelings for Sean, even if Matt said that wasn’t love.

Sometimes Josh thought about asking if he could just sleep in the guest bedroom sometimes, but there was no way to ask that without Sean asking why. And then all of the doubts and frustrations would fall out and Sean would hate him forever. Or worse, he wouldn’t but would get that hurt look in his eyes that Josh couldn’t stand. So he didn’t bring it up, and those thoughts sometimes distracted him from his studies more than staying up all night with Sean did, talking or making love.

At least it was Friday. He could make up the work this weekend and try to stay caught up come Monday. But even with Sean not home, concentration was futile, because Josh kept thinking about the telepath. Thinking about what he would say, and at the same time wishing that he was stronger so that they could do everything that Sean planned out for them in his idealistic fantasy future of a real house instead of an apartment and children and their fancy professional practices.

Those thoughts were getting him nowhere. And the apartment had once again become stifling. He wanted to take a walk, but Sean would be home soon and would worry if he couldn’t be found.

Josh settled for sitting on the roof.

Every apartment had a fire escape, but the best perk of the building was that the door to the roof was never locked. Any of the tenants could go sit up there when they wanted to try to look at the stars through the light pollution. Or to watch parades that came through the streets on weekends. Lawn chairs were kept up there during the nice weather.

It was cold because of the time of year, but Josh wore his coat; at least it was dry out, which made the chair more comfortable than it otherwise would be. It was already dark; it was always so dark this time of year. He couldn’t wait for the summer to arrive. At the same time, he didn’t think he would make it to summer, not with the way he felt. Not with the feelings and the thoughts and the obsession pulling him in a dozen different directions.

It was easy to lose track of time on the roof, when it was so dark outside.

A voice behind him caused him to tense and then relax. “I thought I might find you up here.”

Josh took a moment to gather his bearings before turning around. “I didn’t mean to worry you.” He knew what happened when Sean came home to an empty apartment.

“You’re in range; you didn’t.” The telepath offered him a smile, and then held up a six-pack. “I picked this up on the way home; I thought we could both use a drink to celebrate the end of the week.”

“Thanks.” Josh took the bottle that was passed to him and pried open the top with the bottle opener on his key ring.

Sean scooted the nearest lawn chair to be even closer to Josh’s, before he sat down and took a sip of his own beer. “I picked up supper because I don’t have the energy to cook; I hope you don’t mind.”

“No. What’d you get?”

“Chinese food. I ordered all of your favorites for you.”

Little things like that had been magnified lately. He shouldn’t mind; Josh knew he should be happy that he had a boyfriend who knew him so well and cared enough about him to get all of his favorite dishes from their favorite Chinese restaurant. But Sean hadn’t even asked first, and the worst part of it was that the other man hadn’t been wrong in his selections.

This was too complicated.

“And I stopped off at Moishe’s too. I bought a half pound of cinnamon rugelach. They’re sitting on the windowsill near the flowers.”

“That’s, ahhh, really nice of you.”

“It isn’t nice, Slim. That’s what lovers do.” Sean leaned in to press a chaste kiss to his forehead. “How was class?”

Josh was still working through the surprise baked goods, which were tilting his internal scales from stifled to guilty. “Same as usual. No good times. No bad times.” Josh shrugged slightly, because law school was exhausting and never fun, but it was consistent.

“How about I give you a back rub after supper? I’m sure you have studying to do, but I’ll just watch a movie or something while you do that. Then if it isn’t too late, we can find something to do together.”

Josh looked down at his beer. He knew he should say no, that he should explain to Sean all of his fears and the frustrations. But Sean was smiling expectantly, eyes filled with nothing but love for him. He didn’t want to hurt the telepath, not tonight.

“Sure,” he said, and he forced himself to smile. “That sounds great.”

Maybe tonight it would be different.

[Stella Pinyin]

We’e Off to See the Wizard

Stella, her cat Celeste, and her uncle live in the small town of Hammel. Everything is grey, because the neighbouring town of Pilot Ridge has stolen all the colours via a huge rainbow and keeps everybody up all night with Madonna music and everyone’s 40 or older.

Stella’s house is whisked away by a tornado and she lands in the Land of Oz, which is bright and beautiful and coloured without being too camp. Her house had landed on Alice Halifax, the wicked witch of the east, and the Munchkin Mayor, Kateri, is very happy and only a little Irish.

Clarisse the good fairy arrives to tell Stella that she killed the witch, to give her some pretty new shoes, and to tell her to follow the yellow brick road to the Wizard of Ozas as no one else can get her home. She mentioned that there had been a sort of wizard before, but he’d started running around naked so they had gotten rid of him. Naomi Green, the Wicked Witch of the West, appears and wants Stella’s shoes. Stella is quite attached to them and suggests Naomi buys some for herself instead of stealing from others. This does not go down well.

Stella meets Robbie, who was left strung up on a pole by a pissed off lady. Robbie has no brains when it comes to women, and asks if he can do to get some with Stella. They’re off to see the wizard.

They then meet JD, who is wearing a suit of armour that rusted stiff. He says that he has no heart because some woman cut it out so Stella offers to take him with them to get a new one from the wonderful wizard of Oz.

And finally, Zac ambushes them, but cries when Celeste scratches his beautiful face. Zac has no courage, due to his fear of damaging himself or his clothes, and so joins them to go to meet the wizard.

They run into some sort of poppy field. Robbie had pulled JD back to see if Zac would have the nerve to ask Stella out (it’s become pretty obvious that he’s crushing on her) but JD gets worried when Stella and Zac just pass out instead.

Passing handyman Jonah whips up a lawn mower once he’s been convinced that a bunch of poppies are a threat, and JD pulls his visor down and deals with the deadly flowers.

They finally reach the Emerald City, where Bradley is the gate keeper and won’t let them use the bell, as it’s out of key. After they get past him, they are met by James, who offers to take them somewhere to freshen up before they meet the wizard. They agree, as long as he does not choose their clothes. He does not, his daughter Ginny does. Zac hits on her, but this does not count as courage.

Naomi appears and writes Surrender Stella on the sky with her broomstick, but no one can agree if she means Stella should surrender or if the city is supposed to surrender her. Naomi gets fed up and leaves.

Bradley is gatekeeping again, and he blocks the way to see the wizard until Robbie pulls a lot of straw out of his hair and scatters it over Bradley’s uniform. He freaks and they get past to see the great and powerful oz…

Who is actually Mitya, small and a bit weedy looking. They don’t see him, but they do hear him fumble with the megaphone and drop it when he hears his voice echo. Still, while the three boys twig that the guys a sham, Stella has faith and asks to be sent home

He asks for them to kill Naomi, or at least get her to leave him alone because she makes him nervous.

They set off into the dark and scary forest. Naomi sends Cole, and his biker gang The Winged Monkeys to go kidnap Stella. They do so, but Stella asks for a helmet and Zac mocks their name.

Still, the boys set off to rescue Stella. They get to the castle which is surrounded by guards. Zac is scared they’ll ruin his clothes but agrees rescuing Stella is more important. Robbie comes up with a plan to steal the guard uniforms. Luckily, all the guards are really, really tall so this is ok.

Meanwhile, Stella is frustrating Naomi by being too obliging, and not crying even once. She thinks she’s getting somewhere when she threatens to drown the cat, as Stella seems pretty worried, but Celeste escapes and joins the boys. Stella is relieved Celeste didn’t scratch anyone.

The boys find Stella and they try to escape, but they are trapped by something and Naomi does… something with Robbie. But finally gets fed up and says she didn’t like Oz much anyway and stalks off to take over some other kingdom where the people are less weird.

All the guards are happy as she was a bitch.

So they return and it is revealed that Mitya is a fraud. The boys already knew but Stella gets upset so the all put their heads together and Mitya thinks of some stuff. He tells Robbie to be more careful and gives him a box of condoms, he tells JD not to be ashamed of his soft side and gives him a book of poetry, and he tells Zac just to man up and ask Stella out.

He does.

Stella thinks about it, but doesn’t want to go home as, she realizes, it was getting just a little too gay back there.

The end.

[Admin!]

The deadline for this challenge is extended to January 2nd.

[Basil Zivaen]

Sweet Sunrise

Sunrise - Norah Jones

For the past few weeks Basil had felt like the world was just rying to absolutely kill him. The fact that it was cold out and snow was falling did not help the photosynth. Like the plants he loved so much the man tended to be less active during the winter. In times past the winter was hard because the man had to leave the house to go shopping and other necessary trips. But since last year the winter had become easier. Basil had Edward now.

Sometimes Basil still marveled at the fact. For so long he hadn't seen what he had been missing. His marriege to Sage had been a wonderful thing, and even though it had ended it had ended on a happy note. But since that day on the trails.... something had changed in him. Never in his life had Basil even imagined he could be gay. Even saying the word, even [thinking it still left a bad taste in his mouth sometimes because of the negative connotations. Basil though, was happily gay, and that was all that mattered now.

He made his way downstairs to the shop, trying to get into the large kitchen. The apartment and shop were extremely warm, the only way to keep him mobile through this weather. Noises were issuing from the kitchen, along with a soft voice swearing as metal objects banged around. Basil guessed Ceri was in the kitchen, most likely Deidra with her. That would be the only reason the young woman would be swearing, if her younger sibling was making a mess. So it must be saturday if her younger sibling was here, otherwise Deidra would be in school. No, he corrected himself. The school was on break right now so Deidra wouldn't be in school. He sighed anyway. The sick man had been hoping for a quiet morning of tending plants and drinking tea. With Deidra around thought that wouldn't be possible, due to her incessant questioning and remarks that he still had to have Ceri translate for him sometimes. Taking a breath he walked through the kitchen door.

The sight that met his eyes made the older man smile in a sort of suprised way. A rather dejected looking Deidra was sitting in a chair at the table, a cup of steaming tea with a plate of cheese and crackers beside it. The girls leg was handcuffed to the table leg, along with one of her wrists, making it so that she couldn't move around the kitchen. So that was what the commotion and swearing had been about then. When Basil stepped in Ceri turned from her baking, a smile lightng her face and a small key hanging from her neck.

" Good morning Basil. The tea and craker plate there are for you. If you care to wait a few more minutes there are spiced meat dainties in the oven." He puled out a chair at the table and sat down by Deidra, who immediately brightened up.

" Thank you kindly Ceri. It seems to be just a while after sunrise. At least, in my eyes. He looked at the clock, seeing the time. He didn't even say anything when Ceri's voice floated in his mind as she worked.

Don't trust that clock. It'shelp 9:15 for hours. I'm pretty sure it couldn't tempt you if it tried. Edward said you were so sick that leaves have been falling from some of the roses. Besides, the afternoon has already come and gone. He was suprised that he had slept for so long. Ceri was very comfortable using her telepathy to communicate when she was working. Especially with her family, and Basil and Edward, who she considered an extension of her already large family.

" Have I really slept all day then? I said earlier you should have woken me." A slight frown creased his lips. The woman shrugged and Deidra took the opportunity to talk for a moment.

" I tried waking you up earlier when Edward came home at lunch to check on you. He's really worried you know. Anyway, I couldn't wake you and he said to just let you sleep since you really seemed to need it." The tiny illusionist said as she made glowing purple and gold dragonflies flit around her sisters head to annoy her.

" Edwards going to be here in a few minutes anyway. You have an appointment at the hospital, so you should probably be ready when he gets here." She dusted off her hands and came over to hug him.

" Now go on and take you tea with you!" She turned to go back to what she was doing and Deidra shooed him off. Basil just sighed and gave into the two of them. Taking his tea he disappeared out the foor leaving the two alone.

" Ceri do you know what's wrong with him, 'cuz you have that look. Is he not saying something? He looks blecky and kinda sleep-missing lately. Ceri turned and shushed the energetic young girl. She laid a hand on her younger sisters should to transfer thoughts privately.

I've my suspicions, but don't worry. It just may be a mild case of pneumonia or the flu. Which made Deidra confused because the emotions that Ceri was feeling definitely didn't match. A slight kinda worry and,............joy?

The telepath broke contact when a voice echoed through the shop proper.

" Ceri? Deidra?? You guys here?" He asked. Edward appeared in the kitchen, coat still on.

" Hello. Basil should be down in just a few minutes. We told him you'd be home soon." Edward nodded and smiled,a twinkle in his eyes when Ceri mentioned the older man. He considered himself quite lucky to have Basil, and this illness worried him because of how long it had lasted. He sat in the chair Basil had vacated to wait.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

" I know you're not the biggest fan of Doctors, but umm, well, " Edward started to say when the were halway there. But Basil wasn't listening, at least, not by choice. He was asleep, his head leaning against the window. Out of the house and in the proper light it was very easily noticible that the man had been missing sleep. Edward bit his lip. That wasn't good. He could think of a hundred reasons why, but tried to shove those reasons away. Basil would be fine. He had to be.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

" I have some news for you Mr. Zivaen. Good news really. One, you're not sick at all." Slight confusion filtered over the photosynths face, apprehension on Edward. The younger of the two had had an idea of what was coming based on some wild events that had happened last year, but...to them too? It was too long after wasn't it? The Doctor continued.

" The other good nes is....you're going to have a child. Twins actually." Relief washed over Edward, suprise on Basil. When Basil looked at Edward he couldn't find it in his partners eyes, the same suprise he was feeling. He was so sure it was absolutely written all over his own face. It had never been something he could hide. The Doctor nodded and walked out, leaving them there.

" Children."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

" Edward. Wake up, I need you to drive." Basil whispered to the man next to him. He had to shake him awake as little feet kicked the inside of his stomach. It was still rather discomforting to know there were two people growing inside of him, but that thought wouldn't trouble him for much longer if he could just get Edward to waken.

"Sil? Why'd you spill water....." He sat straight up, looking at Basil. "
"I'll get my coat."

The ride to the hospital blurred by but the hours after that seemed to drag. Immediately the nurses had taken Basil and prepared him for surgery, since that was the only safe way to get the children out. Edward was always surprised when they made it through another day really. After all this...well, after all this there would be two little kids to take care of running around the household.

Finally after what seemed forever a nurse came and got Edward.

In the room was Basil, two little bundles with him. One wrapped in blue, the other in pink. He smiled upon seeing them. He had wanted this, Basil [deep down] had wanted this, and now they had it. Children who were theirs. Just theirs.

" Have you thought of names?" Edward asked. He had an idea, but wasn't sure what Basil would think.

" Jasper for the boy, maybe Lysander for a middle name." He replied, looking at the two little creatures. The man was absolutely taken with them.

" How about Sage for the girl. Sage Laura Zivaen." Edward said softly, pulling a chair next to Basil. The mans face froze for a second, then broke into a smile. He liked the name, and always would.

" It's wonderful." he replied.

[Zachary LaRousse]

I Won’t Say I’m In Love

Insists as hard as the boy may be that it is and has never been an issue (or at least never a romantic one), Zac’s woes started one rather breezy mid-October afternoon. He had just finished his daily afternoon workout and after changing into more decent clothes, the mimic grew hungry. But instead of going to the cafeteria or driving to town to grab a bite, his tongue decided that he’s been deprived of Stella’s cooking for so long (read: a week, give or take two days) and it’s high time to rectify it.

“Hey Glowworm!” By now the pompous heir’s duplicated her room key, for use in moments such as this. “You think you can whip up one of your famous mea-”



“It’s too cliché. I won’t say it,” chuckled a familiar brunette, shaking his head then playfully nudging the girl beside him.

The girl in replied with a meek laugh of her own, noticeably cowering at the sudden disregard for personal boundaries. “It’s ancient history,” she replied shyly, “We can’t do anything about it. Mr. Bond says we have to stick as close to the source material as possible.”

“Oops. Personal space yeah, I forgot,” said the boy, flashing an apologetic smile as he slid away just slightly, “And I guess we don’t have much choice, don’t we?”

By then Zac’s burst through the door, his confused look being answered by an equally puzzled expression from the two.



“--What’s happening here? What’re you doing here Verill?” Zac insists it’s as a harmless question as with any. That he isn’t (at all) angry that Stella has another guy in her room without his knowledge. It’s just that he never pegged Verill to even know his precious Glowworm exist, much less know where her room is.

“Hey Zac! Stella and I were just running some lines for a play in Drama Class.” It seemed like an innocent enough answer, but the mimic claims that he saw the younger boy smirk just slightly after that. He said that’s what sent his alarms off. Oh, and it didn’t help that Verill moved just a bit closer to Stella after that too.

Stella nodded in agreement, even holding up those thick bundles they’re rehearsing about. “Do you need anything Zac?”

“I was actually wondering if you can cook me dinner.” His tone was as cheery as ever but his facial expression was a bit tenser, more intimidating. Mostly because it was directed to Verill, who replied with a sheepishly innocent grin of his own. Sneaky bastards taking advantage of Stella’s poor eyesight.

“Oh. Err. I could--” The girl was thrown into quite the dilemma, and as with all of her struggles, it showed easily, the confusion written clearly on her face.

Feeling bad for suddenly throwing Stella onto the hot seat, the boy let out a laugh and said, “Know what, it’s ok Stella. I’m the intruder here anyway. Carry on with your practice. I’ll just drop by next time.” He walked over to give the shy girl a kiss on the forehead, glare at Verill (hoping it’d convey everything he wanted him to know) and walked out the room, hoping the said situation won’t happen again.



Obviously, it did. Several times even.

The mimic came back the three days after and he saw the two giggling while hugging their arms are locked together. Stella says they’re dance partners for their gym class. “Ballroom dancing. The final exam will be a contest judged by Mr. Demidov and two others. Says that’s how our grade will be determined,” added Verill, with his hand itching slowly down Stella’s back. The mimic left with a huff.

Then came the biology lab report. With which the two are lab partners. Again.

Followed by the book report for The Once and Future King. Stella says they have other groupmates but they left already.

There’s also their project for Ms. Reynolds’ home economics class. Verill’s just bad with the whole knitting thing and so Stella’s coaching him.

“Calligraphy? Since when did you become interested in calligraphy?” asked Zac when he stumbled upon the two with their hands together, both holding the same brush. Verill and Stella simply looked at each other and laughed. This only served to irk Zac more, rolling his eyes and leaving the room with his shoulders crunched up and hands in his pockets.



“What does Stella see in Verill anyway? I mean, come on, he’s not hot. Tall and lanky, yes, but hot? Not in a million years,” grumbled Zac as he slouched on the couch, pillow wrapped around his legs while his hands cradle a bowl with popcorn. “And besides, the boy has douchebag written all over his face.”

“And yours don’t?” said an extremely concentrated JD, fingers pushing – mashing even – at the controllers as such a rapid pace.

Zac sneered and threw a popcorn at the boy.

“Verill’s a nice dude. A little shady, but actually nice,” added an oddly calm blonde, laughing loudly as he killed JD with a headshot. “There’s only one reason why you’re all grumpy and bitchy about him right now,” continued Robbie while struggling to get out of JD’s headlock, “And we all know the reason why.”

“And what is that?”

“You’re in love. With Stella.” said the two boys in unison in such a flat tone.

The mimic snorted and rolled his eyes. He’s been told about it several times before, by these two mostly, so it didn’t really catch him off guard that much. “No chance, no way,” grinned the boy, shaking his head at such an incredulous accusation.

“You keep on denying, who you are and how you’re feeling. But dude, we’re not buying. We’ve seen you hit the ceiling,” grumbled JD as he respawned for the tenth time that night, punching Robbie on the arm.

“Yeah. We can see right through you, you can’t conceal it,” grinned Robbie, his tone as matter-of-factly as ever, “We know how you feel and who you’re thinking of.”

Zac was just about to open his mouth and protest but as if on cue, the two boys once again spoke in unison. “Verill asked Stella out to the movies tonight and she said yes. Verill hasn’t been returning your texts since two hours ago.”

Damn. When did the two get so sharp?

“Ok, granted I’ve been bugging Verill to give me updates on where they are, but it’s not because I love her love her. You’re way off base. Have you seen how delicate she looks? I just don’t want her to get hurt.” That is, and has always been, Zac’s little defense against those who insist he’s in love with his little glowworm. It’s never been strong in the first place really.

“Who’d you think you’re kidding? She’s the earth and heaven to you. Even that’s obvious to Robbie and he’s supposed to be the dense one.” The blonde nodded in agreement, blowing JD up with a flag grenade soon after.

Pausing briefly to respawn and give Robbie a noogie, JD continued, “Face it like a grown-up dude. When’re you going to own up that you’ve got it bad?”

But this point Zac’s ran out of popcorn – mostly because of throwing it at JD’s and Robbie’s back while they lecture him about love – so he just slumped on the couch and watched the flickering of the screen. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Why what?” asked Robbie innocently.

“Grilling me and making me admit that I’m in love with Stella.”

“’Cause you are!” shouted JD, though the rage in his voice was directed more to being knifed by Robbie than Zac being all snotty and denying everything.

“I’m not!”

“Read our lips: You’re. In. Love.”

“You never really answered the question you know.”

“Because we’re tired of you playing god with our love lives. With mine especially anyway,” answered JD, eyes focused as he is finally closing in on Robbie. “And it’s high time you admit that you’re in love with her. So that your creepy-stalker-ness would be justified properly.”

Robbie took Zac’s silence as agreement and added, “Dude, don’t be proud. Just admit it. It’s ok. You’re in love.” And even though he had his head turned to Zac, he still managed to kill JD in one shot, earning another groan from the taller boy.

“There’s nothing wrong in asking her out, right?”



That seemed to have successfully gotten through Zac’s rather thick skull, as he said nothing more about the subject throughout the night. He laid low for the next few weeks, not even bothering Verill about the details of their date or barging into Stella’s room randomly.

A knock was heard in Stella’s room one Wednesday, and when she opened it, a boy dressed in a full black suit with a bouquet of roses in hand greeted her. “Err…ummm…S-Stella?” said Zac slowly, blushing deeply as he scratched the back of his head, “W-Will you g-go out with m-me?”

God he sounded like a ten year-old. But at least she said yes. (Then asked whose funeral they’re going to. You know, suit and flowers).



“Told you it’d work,” grinned Robbie, taking a sip off his juice box, “So pay up dude.”

JD grumbled and groaned, but the blonde’s palm clearly wasn’t going anywhere until he got his fifty dollars. “Why’d you have to be such a good actor anyway Verill?”

“It’s a skill,” the shorter brunette said with a wink, laughing out loudly with the blonde.

Note: I edited the lyrics just slightly, since they have girl and honey and stuff, which I think would be a little too out of character for JD and Robbie. Hopefully that’s ok. ^_^.

[Sage Ersilia]

Firework[/i][/url]

Do you ever feel like a plastic bag, drifting through the wind, wanting to start again?

Blushing was not at all uncommon for Sage. In fact, it wasn’t really a normal day unless someone managed to make the boy’s face flush like a ripe strawberry. He was usually glowing, both inwardly and out, and his smile metaphorically could light up a room and occasionally literally if made happy enough. However, today there was no such thing. Today, not a drop of light emanated from his being, and his usual sparkling emerald eyes were dull like an uncut, unpolished stone.

One would ask ‘what happened? Did somebody die?’, but the truth was a much simpler reason than anyone could have known.

It all started in the downtown area of Pilot Ridge. Sage had been going about his business rummaging through the bookstore for new reads, and while he happily read through the summaries on the backs, a little girl approached him. Her big blue eyes could not help but drift to the single keychain on his gray messenger bag, a simple engraving on stainless steel of the Hammel Institute logo. She recognized this immediately and tugged on his shirt eagerly, and he smiled down at her as she looked so willing to speak with him.

“Yes?”

He responded with a quiet voice, fit for a library, and she grinned at his attention.

“You go to Hammel, right? That must mean you have a cool power, right?”

Sage blinked in surprise at her interest, and he tilted his head before answering.

“Well, I suppose so…”

He laughed lightly, politely hoping to somewhat appease the girl for however many minutes they would speak before he parted and went back to his cozy dorm room. However, the girl seemed to latch on to his answer, excited and wishing to ask more.

“What can you do?”

The blond pondered whether or not to discuss it, but he saw no harm and he smiled as he always did.

“I can control light”

He explained his abilities in a bit more detail to the girl, but the more he went on, the more disappointed she seemed to be. She pushed her brown locks behind her ears for a moment, staring sternly at the floor before looking him in the eyes with such visible discrimination.

“So…you just glow? That’s stupid!”

Sage was a bit taken back by the comment, and an adult woman, obviously the mother of the little girl, quickly apologized to him for her rude behavior and led her away. The boy smiled as if not bothered, but in reality, the words had been a hard blow, and he did not so easily recover.

Do you ever feel like a house of cards, one blow from cavin’ in?

He had been told before that his powers were useless, but usually it was jokingly or from people that should not have mattered. But this little girl did not joke, nor was she what appeared to be any form of enemy. She was simply voicing her opinion as open and honestly as she could, and it hurt more than any insult.

The boy wandered back home without a book to read, without light surrounding his form, and perhaps the most unusual, without a smile. Sage knew that the words should not have stirred something so deep within him, but he couldn’t help but still feel somewhat insecure about his powers. He had hoped that his roommates would be around to cheer him up, but Gia was gone, Fifi was busy, and Howell was fast asleep, sitting up in his chair and earning at least one small smile from the blond. Thyme, his cousin, was away at his occasional salsa dancing class, and Sage’s world grew a bit darker as he realized just how few people he really knew.

Do you ever feel already buried deep? Six feet under screams and no one seems to hear a thing

Sage took a blanket and gently spread it over Howell’s body before he remembered his back-up plan; a plan that hardly ever failed. Whenever he had no one to talk to, he knew he could rely on his older sister to make everything better, even if she was great distances away. On the first ring, she answered the phone, and just the sound of her voice brought such nostalgia into his heart that he was feeling brighter already.

“What’s wrong, little brother?”

Stella could immediately tell that something was wrong, and Sage was awed at the connection they had with each other. His sister knew everything about him, and more importantly, she never lied.

“It’s nothing…silly, really…I just…I guess I’m just a bit lost in the dark”

He did not have to tell her what he meant, since she already knew, and her laugh echoed through the line.

“Don’t you know that there’s still a chance for you? Cuz’ there’s a spark in you, Sage. There always has been”

The boy blushed, and his voice came out in an embarrassed stutter.

“…A…spark?”

He felt like it was something that should have been more suited towards his cousin Thyme, the one with electrokinesis, but the laugh started up again.

“Baby, you’re a firework”

Sage blushed a deeper hue of red and smiled genuinely, the entire fiasco drifting away into nothing. It was crazy how his sister could make him realize that he was not really the bag after all, but actually more like the wind; strong, gentle, beautiful, and always moving straight ahead despite twists and turns along the way. As he hung up the phone, he glanced towards the window at the orange sun setting in the horizon, the rays of light reaching through to him like a much needed source of energy. He took a deep breath, and his body was enveloped in sunshine.

Boom, boom, boom, even brighter than the moon, moon, moon. It’s always been inside of you, you, you, and now it’s time to let it through

THE END

[Malcom Black]

Violet Hill

It was a long and dark December when Malcom met her, trudging to his home during his leave. There was snow, white snow, all littering the ground in his path. And there she stood, dark-haired, with a rounded face, and a proud lift to her chin. She was shoveling with the focused of the determined. With a smile, he crossed over to her side and held out his hand for the shovel. She eyed him, then gave it to him.

“I’m Malcom,” he offered as he set to work.

“Maria.”

When the driveway was finished, there they sat in the snow together, drinking hot chocolate. From the windows, the neighbors were watching. But neither of them cared.

---

“So if you love me,” Malcom slid a hand down her arm, resting with her on the couch in her house, “Won’t you let me know?”

Maria just snorted and snuggled closer. Her head was pillowed on his shoulder, and her waves of hair poured over his chest and back. He threaded it through his fingers, admiring the texture and feel of it, and the woman who was sitting next to him.

“I’d like to marry you.”

Her eyes flickered up to him. And although she was silent still, she lifted her lips to kiss him. Malcom took it as a yes.

----

They were going through their morning routine, exchanging cups of coffee and kisses, when the news came on the radio. He came to her side and wrapped an arm around her again, tight, watching while a plane crashed into two, proud and tall towers. Watching as they crumbled into smoke. He led her to the couch as the President came on to address it, and they continued watching as the culprits were revealed. Maria’s hand tightened into his shirt, and she buried her face in it.

“Ever feel the future’s architectured by a carnival of idiots on show?” she whispered to him. Malcom kissed her forehead.

“You know I don’t think that much.” His eyes lifted to the phone, and then down to her. Someday the phone would ring, someday soon. And there would be nothing he could do.

-----

When the call did come, he went to her.

Her eyes glinted and glimmered with water, but she didn’t say the words he wished she would say—the words he’d never heard her say. She just kissed him and began making dinner.

If you love me, won’t you let me know? But he didn’t voice it. It wasn’t the time. Instead, he said, “Bury me in honor.”

Her head snapped up and she stared at him, seemingly baffled by his wry tone.

“When I’m dead and hit the ground,” he explained. “I’d like to know you did it.”

“Don’t talk like that.” Her voice was unsteady. “Please.”

And in spite of his own fears, he obeyed, and didn’t bring up the topic again.

----

Afghanistan was a nightmare of bullets and explosions and screams. He kept his mind by thinking of her.

If you love me, won’t you let me know?

----

When he returned at last, tired and strained, hoping for nothing more than to see her, he opened the door to a dark and dusty house, and a note that just said “I’m sorry.” He dropped it to the ground and sank onto a stool, placing his head in his hands. But later, when he finally saw her and could ask for a reason why, she just looked at him and said,

“If you loved me, why’d you let me go?”

[Robbie Wilkes]

Everything You're Not Supposed To Be

Morgan rubbed his eyes as his hand moved to the empty side of the bed. He sighed and rolled himself to the side of the bed, wincing a little at the harsh sunlight crawling through the blinds of his room. It was taking a lot longer for him to adjust to seeing again after two months of being blind.

It didn't help matters any that Anya had gone back to Russia for something related to the meta world and it left Morgan with a gaping hole he didn't know how to fill. Spending time with family helped but it just didn't feel right. It also had him thinking about old wounds.

Last night had been the worst. Jake had come to him in a dream and Morgan was reminded of how happy he had been before he found out the truth about his ex. The dream started out pleasant but it didn't last. Morgan had woken up sweating in the middle of the night, frightened of the sudden squeeze around his throat. It took awhile for him to lay back down to sleep after that.

The thought of Jake still in Pilot Ridge made Morgan extra aware of his surroundings. He didn't want to bump into the shadow manipulator any more than he wanted to be blind again.

He took a quick shower to try to get rid of his disturbing thoughts and ended up in bed again. He had to take about half an hour just to get up again and he went to the kitchen for breakfast. Nothing was there to cook even. Morgan sighed in distress. Time for grocery shopping.

Usually, he would get his mother to accompany him but lately, he had been depending on her so much that he felt guilty. He didn't want to burden his mother. Not after everything she had done just for him.

Arriving at the supermarket, Morgan headed straight to the fresh produce with his cart. He meandered lazily around, picking things a bachelor could need for dinner. He pushed the cart along the aisles, smiling at the Christmas songs playing overhead, mouthing some of the words at random intervals.

He was reaching for a box of generic cereal when he realised that he wasn't alone in the aisles. His hand froze mid-reach as he realised that he recognised the person.

"Jake." Morgan breathed softly. The younger man stopped in his tracks and turned his head to the call of his name. "M-Morgan." He stammered, a mix of panic and longing showed on his unshaven face.

Morgan thought he had long since accepted the fact that he was going to run into Jake sooner or later but seeing him now...it was bringing him some really painful memories of being betrayed by the person he knew he was...is...will still always love.

For a moment, he opted to make a run for it, leaving his cart and Jake in the aisle and not turning back. But he knew he was better than that. And he wanted...no, needed closure.

Plastering a smile on his face, Morgan approached Jake and held his hand out. "Want to get some coffee?"

---

Though the invitation was for coffee, Jake smiled when he saw Morgan happily sipping his hot chocolate, fiddling with the stirrer, as the light manipulator was wont to do.

He was having a hard time not to reach across the table to grab the blonde's hand and beg for his forgiveness. But he supposed the fact that Morgan hadn't run and that he was the one who extended the offer was more than enough for him.

"Do I still have permission to ask how you are?" Jake asked, breaking the somewhat awkward silence they were in. Morgan looked up with the look of surprise Jake still found made his heart skip a beat.

"Um...yes. I mean...you don't have to ask for my...permission." Morgan turned a little red as he shrugged. "I'm okay. I've been spending more time on myself lately." His voice trailed before he looked at Jake with his bright blue eyes with a small smile. "How are you, Jake?"

Jake looked at Morgan and returned the smile. "I've been better. I've been looking for a job and uh...trying to move past my...transgressions." He looked away, ashamed of his confession.

"That's good."

Looking up again, Jake saw a flash of something akin to hurt on Morgan's face and it broke his heart. "Morgan...I know I was everything you're not supposed to be to someone that you...love." He was finding it hard to vocalise his thoughts but he knew if he didn't now, he probably would never have the guts to do it again in the future.

"I walked away from you for the first time strong. And I did my best to see it through. Now I'm watching you...just thinking I'm wrong." Jake breathed slowly, not wanting to get his words jumbled up.

He wanted to see Morgan's face but he was actually scared that what he would see would be worst than being stabbed in the back. He thumbed the handle of the mug and tried to conclude his little speech but Morgan's shaky voice stopped him.

"You broke all my dreams and my hope." It started out soft but as it went on, Morgan's voice gradually grew firm. "I felt trapped and alone but I sleep better now. But I...I want you to know that I never wanted you to go." His last words were barely a whisper and Jake finally looked up only to find Morgan with a pained look on his face.

"I'm so sorry Morgan I didn't..."

"But I feel free now. And I know you did your best but you don't see how free it feels without you and me. I loved you. I still love you. I probably always will. And I never wanted to let you go but you lied to me, Jake. And...you've hurt people and I probably won't ever forgive you for that. I just hope you understand where I'm coming from." Morgan took a breath, leaving Jake a little breathless.

He knew he deserved it, every word of it, but it hurt no less despite knowing that. "Morgan I..."

Jake was surprised when Morgan suddenly grabbed his hand and squeezed it lightly. "I saw your good side. I fell in love with that. And I know if I can move on then so can you. I promise."

He squeezed Morgan's hand back and looked up to Morgan's determined yet sad face. "I want to try. If not for anything else, for you. I...can't help but want to be better for you."

Morgan shook his head with a gentle smile. "Never do anything to please others more than it pleases you. I want you to move on because of you. You deserve it."

The shadow manipulator watched as Morgan pulled away, pushing his chair back and bending down to gather his stuff. He kept still as Morgan leaned forward to place a kiss on his forehead, his eyes fluttering closed as he breathed Morgan in in the second the man was near.

"Be well, Jake." With one last smile, Jake watched while Morgan walked away, sure.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Rose of Aberdeen

Sean pulled his coat a little tighter around his body, as he braved the night air and the drizzle that threatened to worsen at any minute. New York winters had been harsh enough, but they paled in comparison to the bitterness of New England in December. His coat did what it could to keep him warm, but the lining was thin and the button on the left sleeve had fallen off so that the sleeve was held together with a safety pin. His gloves were in slightly better condition; while bereft of holes, they were well-worn and his fingers often tingled as they fought off the beginnings of frostbite.

He’d taken to crossing his arms as often as was practical to provide his hands with extra insulation. It had the effect of making him appear stern and judgmental, often calling attention to himself in the process, but that was a small price to pay for keeping his fingers.

He had sixty-eight dollars in his wallet and some change in his pocket; he didn’t know how much. He needed most of that to pay for tonight’s lodging since it was too dark and wet to continue on the road tonight. Winter was the worst. Beyond the cold and the constant threat of rain if he was lucky, snow if he wasn’t, and hail on the worst of days, it was dark so early that traveling took twice as long as it did in the summer. But even with most of the money in his pocket reserved for a room, he had enough for a cup of coffee.

That was all he wanted, a cup of coffee to warm his weary, frozen bones.

As he pushed open the door, the little bell jingled, alerting the man working behind the counter to his presence. The man gave Sean an appraising look, and Sean self-consciously glanced down at his hands, which he rubbed together for warmth. The friction didn’t do much with the gloves on, and so he tugged them off, stuffed them in his pocket, and rubbed them together again. That helped marginally.

He knew how he looked: only slightly better than he felt. The lines etched into his forehead made him appear older than he was, and his build made him seem far more imposing than he could ever muster to actually behave. He couldn’t remember his last haircut, and he knew that the brown locks stuck up every which way since he only combed it in the morning and didn’t bother to touchup during the day. His facial hair was unkempt because he hadn’t taken the time to shave in a couple of weeks.

Grizzly Man.

“Do you have any coffee?”

His voice didn’t match his appearance; his baritone wasn’t gravelly and harsh, but instead still had an element of youth, a warm quality that refused to erode despite his current lifestyle. It surprised the man behind the counter; Sean could hear his surprise despite the fact that the man said nothing to that effect.

“The pot’s near-empty.”

“Are you going to put on a fresh pot? I’ll wait for it.”

Sean knew that the man behind the counter had intended to use this an excuse to make him leave, but he needed the coffee, and he needed the respite from the elements. He blew on his hands, rubbed them together again to try to revive the circulation in his fingertips.

He must have looked harmless enough, because the man behind the counter reached for a bag of coffee grounds and went to fill the filter. “It’ll be a few minutes,” he warned.

“That’s fine.” His fingers tingled, which mean that circulation had been resumed. With that, he crossed his arms over his chest, tucking his finger s between his biceps and the tops of his ribcage, just under his armpits. That should warm them better. “Thank you,” he added, sincere in his gratitude.

The silence that followed was uncomfortable; there was never companionable silence in Sean’s world, and there hadn’t been in some time. The only silent periods came as uncomfortable when with other people who didn’t want him there or didn’t know what to make of him. Or it was the silence which came from being alone, which was neither uncomfortable nor companionable.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” The man behind the counter broke that uncomfortable silence.

“No.” Sean’s reply was soft.

“Whereabouts?”

“New York.”

“That’s far.” That was an understatement.

“I’m a long way from home,” Sean agreed with a sigh. He couldn’t wait for his fingers to stop tingling so that he could uncross his arms and use his hands again. It was awkward standing here this way.

“What brings you around these parts?” The man behind the counter had begun to warm up to him, because he nodded at a stool. “It’ll be a few minutes yet. Sit down and take a load off.”

“Thank you.” Sean did as he was asked, sitting down on the stool by the counter. He wiggled his toes in his shoes, his feet glad to be spared the burden of his full weight for a few minutes. “I’m traveling,” he explained, answering the other man’s question.

He wasn’t asked many questions, not beyond the standard. “What do you think you’re doing?” Even though he didn’t like to talk about himself, he still appreciated the attempt at small talk. It was an implicit acknowledgement of his value as a human being. That was something often lacking these days.

“Where to?”

“Across the country.” Sean’s hands had warmed, and he slowly uncrossed his arms, letting them rest on the counter in front of him.

“Any reason in particular?”

“No.” Sean shook his head and looked down at his hands. His fingernails could do with an emery board although he didn’t have one with him to use. Emery boards were low-priority. “I’ve got the time and I’ve always wanted to go.”

“What do you think so far?” The man behind the counter watched him, although he did so without the same scrutiny as when Sean had first come inside.

“It’s not as romantic as Kerouac and Steinbeck made it seem.” Sean said that with a little, self-deprecating smile, the one that he wore all too often these days.

“You’re a reader?” The man behind the counter’s surprise was evident.

Sean understood that surprise. He didn’t look like a reader. Readers were typically educated, and educated people had coats that didn’t rely on safety pins to keep together and didn’t have weeks-long beard growth and unkempt hair. “I’m a reader,” he acknowledged softly.

The man behind the counter contemplated that for a moment, before he asked, “What do you do for a living?”

Nothing that Sean wanted to discuss. “I don’t have a job right now,” he admitted.

That didn’t surprise the man behind the counter. It also failed to deter him. “What did you do?”

“I was a doctor.”

There was a flash of disbelief, followed by judgment and pity. Memories swam of news stories about doctors who abused prescription drugs that they stole from hospitals or prescribed to themselves, for illnesses they never had. Then came speculation about what drug had been his drug, the one that had cost him his job and possibly his medical license. The other man’s eyes took Sean in a bit more critically, searching his face and figure for signs: was it Methadone or Vicodin or Ketamine or Percocet or Heroin? Had he been a coke head?

It was none of the above. Sean even still had his license, although there was nowhere for him to practice. The AMA didn’t revoke licenses for his addiction. Not that he’d had much time to use it before everything had fallen apart.

The aroma of coffee caused his stomach to growl, and the man behind the counter went to pour him a cup. In anticipation, Sean pulled a dollar and all of the change out of his pocket. He didn’t know how much a cup of coffee cost here, and he needed his bases covered. There were baked goods in the glass case behind the counter: pies with slices missing, oversized cookies, and pies of different fillings. Sean’s stomach growled more.

Thankfully, a cup of coffee was slid under his nose, which was enough to distract his stomach.

“Do you want anything for it?”

“Milk and sugar, if you have it.” Even after his travels, Sean still didn’t like the bitter taste of black coffee.

Sugar packets and a small carton of milk were set down beside him. Sean smiled in appreciation and offered the money in his hand to the man behind the counter. He hoped it was sufficient.

There was no correction to the amount, and thus Sean focused on his coffee. He tore open two packets of sugar and dumped the contents into his cup. This was followed by enough milk to turn the color from black to a hue befitting caramel. He stirred and sipped and then sighed softly in pleasure.

All the while, the man behind the counter watched him, assessing which of his first impressions were true and which were mistaken.

“When was the last time you ate?”

He’d heard the thought, but Sean was surprised by the question nonetheless. Most people didn’t actually ask that question; certainly not after this much time had passed in his presence. He managed not to sputter on his coffee, instead swallowing quickly. “This morning.”

It hadn’t been much (toast never was), but it had been something.

“Do you want something to eat? It’s the end of the day so there isn’t much lwft, but there’s some finger food. Burgers too.”

Sean hadn’t expected that, and he looked down at his coffee. “I don’t...”

Judgment gave way to pity, because he was the right type of rover. The type that didn’t have too much self-respect, the type that wasn’t uppity. The type that was rightfully pathetic.

“That’s okay,” the man behind the counter assured him. “It’s on the house.”

Sean was momentarily silent, weighing whether he could afford to accept this offer. He needed the money for a room tonight and there was so little to spare beyond that. He considered the blow to his ego, needing to take even more handouts, but that would have to give way. He needed the food. Besides, he didn’t have much ego left to destroy, and he supposed that its further survival was less important than the rest of him.

“Thank you,” Sean said after that moment’s hesitation. “Could I have some pie?”

It wasn’t that strange a request. “What flavor?”

“Anything.” Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“Sure thing.” Sean stared at his coffee but from the corner of his eye, he watched as the man behind the counter went to the dessert case and pulled out a pie. Blueberry.

He’d always liked blueberry; he wondered if he was projecting. To be sure that he wasn’t, he closed his eyes and concentrated. Just a bit. Occasionally he had slipups.

In another lifetime, he’d never had slipups. But he was broken now, and it was only expected that his shielding was less than perfect. Shattered mirrors, even when glued back together, had cracks.

“Thank you,” he said again when the pie was put in front of him with a fork. Despite his hunger, he ate politely, taking only small, sensible bites. While he ate, the other man wiped down the counter with a cloth.

Setting down the fork caused his finger to bang against the counter. The clang was loud in the otherwise quiet room, and the man at the counter looked over at him, head cocked slightly.

Sean reached down protectively to rub the ring he wore. Once it had been a pinky ring because the person who’d bought it for him had misjudged his ring size. Too long traveling had caused him to lose weight, and now it fit properly on his ring finger.

“Married, are you?” The surprise was evident in the other man’s voice.

“No...no.” Sean’s eyes remained on the counter, at the plate that contained only crumbs as a smear of purple juice, and at the cup that contained only the tiniest remnants of coffee. Anywhere that wasn’t another person’s face during the inevitable conversation.

“So it’s not a wedding ring?”

“No, it’s-” Not a wedding ring, even if he considers it more sacred than that. “Well, I was engaged once.” Sort of.

Marriage hadn’t been legal, but they’d lived together for five years, had dated for longer than that. Had been in the process of making a life together, and if that wasn’t the purpose of engagement, then Sean didn’t know what was.

The man behind the counter debated asking the obvious question. Then he did. “What happened?”

“H-” He had to be careful, had to watch his language and selectively reveal his past. That was how he had lasted as long as he had in this life. “Her parent’s didn’t like me. Not enough to want her to keep seeing me.”

“Why?”

Wrong gender. “We weren’t the same religion.”

“Ah.” The other man nodded sympathetically, as though he understood.

He had no conception.

Josh’s parents weren’t even the most at fault for the entire debacle, but Sean didn’t mind blaming them. It was a more believable story, a far less painful story than the truth was. It was far less painful than how his lover, a person he had given his heart to, had been on the fence about their relationship. Less painful than how his lover had ended their relationship unilaterally, leaving him to fend for himself. Less painful than how he had promised to call but hadn’t, and when Sean had called him, his calls were never answered or returned, because he had been shut out, abandoned, discarded like a toy that a child had outgrown. He hadn’t been given a reason beyond “I need space” and “we can be friends.”

Josh hadn’t wanted to be friends with him. And then, when trying to cope with the worst of it, Sean’s wealthy, Catholic parents had discovered that their oldest child, their favored son, was a faggot. Even though he wasn’t, not exactly. In the end, it had been the same, because Josh had ruined him for anyone else, man or woman. The argument with his parents had been horrible; and when the dust settled, he had been cast out of the family.

He couldn’t afford the apartment without parental assistance. He couldn’t afford to pay back his student loans without parental assistance, since the first years out of medical school were essentially indentured servitude, barely making enough to survive on. He had needed emotional support from Josh but had received none because Josh wasn’t available as friend or as lover.

Then everything had else had fallen apart.

Between depression, bankruptcy, a diminished social circle, and the death of all aspirations, he’d simply packed up and left.

His possessions had dwindled over the years, as he sold them for cash, but some he couldn’t bring himself to sell. Like the ring, which was one of his last reminders of Josh. Like the rosary in his pocket because it reminded him of the family he used to have.

Sean’s train of thought was interrupted by a loud clap of thunder. He heaved a weary sigh and turned his head, gazing out the window at the darkened sky and the rain that was now falling in sheets. He didn’t relish the thought of going back outside. His coat would be rendered useless within a minute tops; he’d be soaked through to his bones.

“Where are you staying tonight?” The man behind the counter asked.

That caused Sean to turn his head back to the counter, returning his attention to the other man. “There’s an inn a mile or two back. The sign said there were rooms available.” He hadn’t gone in to check when he’d passed it because he’d hoped to make it to the next town over from here tonight, but the weather and exhaustion had prevented that.

“You plan to walk it?” The other man tilted his head to the side awaiting an answer. All he received was a slight shrug of Sean’s shoulders. Inexplicably, that caused the other man to frown. “It’s dark and it’s raining,” he pointed out, jerking his head in the direction of the window to illustrate his point.

Lightning streaked across the sky, causing Sean to slink down somewhat in his seat. He really didn’t want to go back out there.

“I don’t have many other options,” Sean admitted quietly, after a moment of silence that felt as though it stretched on forever.

He missed the van. He still technically had the van because he’d bought it with his own money and not his parents’, but it had been broken for a while, and he couldn’t afford to fix it. It was O. Henry-style irony that the only way to get the money to fix the van was by selling the van. Not that it was worth much. So it lived at a garage with someone who had promised not to scrap it, until Sean scrounged up the money to both pay to have it repaired as well as to get himself back to the town and state where the garage was located.

With each passing day, this seemed a more remote possibility.

Another clap of thunder interrupted his thoughts, while simultaneously focusing the other man’s. Sean could hear them, hear the weighing of possibilities: the time the detour would take, the fact that Sean didn’t appear to have much other clothing to risk soaking through completely, the possibility that Sean was secretly an axe murderer who would hack him up in the back of his truck once they were alone in the vehicle.

That last thought hurt a bit. While Sean was used to all manner of unflattering thoughts, all manner of offensive suspicions, he’d been alone with this man for the evening and hadn’t tried to touch him once. The presence of a car wouldn’t make a difference.

Besides, if he wanted to hurt him, he would take the money in the register, not merely the car keys in the ignition.

But he wouldn’t. He would always soak and starve rather than rob or harm.

The other man came to a decision. “I could give-” but the offer was interrupted by the jingle of the bell over the door, as it opened and a young man and women stepped through, soaked to the bone and looking lost.

“We’re lost,” the newcomer man explained. “And hungry. Are you still open?”

The newcomer woman had been smiling in that embarrassed way people did when admitting they were lost. However, her eyes fell on Sean and took in his ragged appearance. Her smile turned to a frown, and she curled up against her husband. This prompted him to look in Sean’s direction, narrow his eyes, and wrap a protective arm around his wife’s waist. Warding him off as though he was a danger to them, merely because he looked like a Grizzly Man.

This was so common, he barely noticed.

He realized that with new customers, there was no hope of getting a ride back to the inn at a decent hour. He supposed he could wait around; but considering how the couple had reacted to his presence, if he waited, they would leave. That would cost the man behind the counter two sales, and he had already paid Sean more kindness tonight than most other people had in recent memory. He couldn’t cost him more by scaring off his customers.

To that end, he offered the man behind the counter a self-deprecating smile, although he tried to convey his gratitude with his eyes. “It’s fine. I can make out on my own.”

With that, he rose from his seat and smoothed his worn coat. He carefully donned his gloves, and braced himself for the weather outside. To make the point, he around the diner, deliberately out of the way of the couple, as far from them as he could get while still approaching the exit. He had no intention of touching them, of rubbing his failure on them, and certainly not of hurting them. Sean spared one last glance at the man behind the counter, mouthing the words “Thank you.”

Then he stepped through the door, away from the warmth and light, into the thunderstorm. It was a long walk ahead of him; and the rain, soaking through his coat, would make it seem twice as long.