Obsession ( boyxboy )

Chapter Eleven

When he opened his eyes to the morning sun light, Rosemary had already left. He was relieved at not having to speak to her just yet. Rosemary had moaned his name several times in her sleep. He wasn't sure if she remembered, but he was sure that she had been dreaming of him.

His fixed his eyes on the prescription pill bottles in the bathroom-mirror cabinet. He grabbed his tooth brush and shut it. Not today, he thought. With a sense of pride in him, he walked into the kitchen. His mother was sitting at the table, holding a coffee mug in one hand, and a cigarette in the other.

"You're all smiles today," she said when he came in.

He didn't respond, looking inside the fridge.

"I saw the girl," she said, raising her tone a little. "The red head from next door, I saw her coming down the stairs as I came in."

"Cool, did she say hi?" He asked, pouring cranberry juice into a glass.

"What is this thing? What is the root of it?"

He turned to her with a frown."Don't start."

"We talked about this a million times with the Doctor, Chris. He said that you weren't ready."

His hand were trembling as he brought the glass to his lips and took a sip.

"That phony doctor is only trying to get us to pay him more. He'll always tell you that I'm sick because he knows that you won't need him anymore if he don't."

She exhaled a puff of smoke, scowling. "We've been through a lot, there is no chance that either of us is 'alright'," she said. "Don't look at me like that. You frightened me, you did, you can't understand what it is like for a mother because yore only a kid. To see her child bleeding out in front of her it's something that never goes away."

He slammed the glass down on the table, staring into her eyes. "First of all, I'm not a 'child', and that was a long time ago. Why can't you let it go? You make things worse by always bringing it up. How do you expect me to get over my 'trauma' if its an absolute necessity for you to mention what happened months ago, every time we talk?"

She stood, dropping her cigarette, and shaking. "I lost your father, I lost him, not like you did, my lost was bigger. Years of memories gone," she said, snapping her fingers. "I don't even know the man, what he was all about, there is only disillusion and horror left. You're my only source of comfort, and I can't lose you. Chris, you can't see it, but you're still fragile. The doctor was clear about you meeting new people."

Chris laughed at her. "Trust me, there is nothing between me and that girl. She needed somewhere to sleep for the night and asked me, if she could stay. So, stop making a fuss out of nothing because I'm really starting to hate you."

A coffee mug came flying at him and he ducked. It smashed against the tiled wall.

"Are you crazy?"

"You say you hate me, but what do you think I feel for you? I have no other choice but to tolerate you! You spoiled everything when you were born, everything. You sit in your room all day while I bust my ass for us to live a good life. For what? For you to say that you hate me, you ungrateful shit?"

Chris rushed at her, stopping inches in front of her. Clenching and unclenching his fist, he looked at her face. "His disease and his filthy mind killed him, not me. He was the monster, he was the one who fucked up our lives, he was the ungrateful one. When I was born, you finally realized who he was. You'd rather spend your whole life in denial. Don't blame me for that, and as for that 'doctor', I'll literally slit my wrist before having to see him again."

Not waiting a moment longer, he turned around and left the kitchen.

He walked out into the porch. Letting off steam he knocked over his mother's flower boxes. Why did he feel trapped in his own body, prisoner of his memories, dark memories that reoccurred when he was alone, but he was always alone. He had hung onto the thought of Anthony loving him as a drowning man would hold on to a rope. The truth was clear, he was not loved. How terrible it was to not be loved. From the corner of his eyes, he detected her presence.She was standing at the window.

Next thing he knew, he was going down the street, as far away from her, from his past as manageable, weeping, digging his nails into his arms, at the edge of insanity. His father's ghost had never left him, always a distinct silhouette in the recesses of his mind.

South Common park brought him comfort. He sat at his favorite bench, slipping his phone out of his pocket.

Why won't you see me, he typed, there is no reason for me to continue to exist without your acknowledgement. That is the price for my love for you.

When he pressed sent, he felt shame. That text would definitely anger Anthony. Any emotion was better than none. To know he existed, that he was not a small piece of an insignificant puzzle, the urge to feel any sensation had led him to cutting. Now it thrust him upon obsession for a blue-eyed beauty.

Glancing at his unchanged inbox, he was slowly falling into an abyss of despair. Going down was not the problem, he had been on a path of decline ever since he was born, it was watching the light of day, the sun rise and never being able to climb out of the well.

'Are you trying to drive me crazy?' The question, so simple, elevated Chris from the depths. He smiled.

'Without your love, I am nothing. I am hopeless and I don't care I sound desperate. I would rather be desperate than be anything I'm not. If you could only see what a mess I am. You would laugh at me.'

His phone rang.

"What is it with you? How don't you understand that I don't want anything to do with you?" Anthony's words were harsh, but his delivery was false. He was attempting to push him away, not really wanting to. They both knew it was not real. Finding reasons to reject him just wasn't enough.

"I want to see you, one last time," Chris said." Give me only that."

Silence.

"Please."

"A lot has been going on."

"I know, let me make it better."

"Be at South Common Park. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"I'm already here... Waiting." He let the last word float in the distance between them. Listening to his soft breathing, Chris wanted to hold on to the moment for ever.

When they met, Anthony did not say a word. He fixed his gaze on him, searching, full of wonder, as if to see right through Chris.

Carmen was still cleaning up after last night's party. She glanced up at Chris, a knowing expression on her face. Had he stopped for one second, he might have remembered that moment later on.

As Chris walked in Anthony shut the door behind him. He pushed Chris against the wall. Bending over Chris's lips, he looked into his eyes.

Chris put his hand around his neck, pulling him towards him. Their lips touched, and it was like the gates of the dam were open. After almost ripping each others clothes off, Anthony pinned him down on his bed. Merging in him with such force that Chris cried out. But it was part of the cocktail of sensations. He was no longer in his body. He was in a different plane of existence, both were pushing to the climax, towards the heights. When it came, it was a higher level of ecstasy.

Rolling on his back, Anthony had almost passed out. He held Chris to him. His eyes were closed, a slight smile on his lips.

"Look at me," Chris whispered into his chest, kissing his left nipple.

When Anthony opened his eyes, he saw him. His pupils dilating, realization transforming his stoic features.

"I love you," Chris said.

Anthony continued to stare at him.

Smiling, Chris hugged him, closing his eyes.

Every minute that followed was perfection. Until perfection reached a height where it seized to be vague and it became heaven. Chris reached heaven when he had entered semi-sleep and Anthony spoke.

"I love you, too."