Love Unfortunately

Tom 2

Joel's fingers lightly massaged Tom's shoulders, passing a soothing feeling down through his collarbone to the skinny texture of his chest. Their kisses danced along to the shared beat of their hearts, as their tongues danced around in magnificent patterns of love and lust. Tom was lost. He was lost in his lover's embrace, he was lost in the pleasure seething in his body, he was lost in the bewildering sensation of their bare skin brushing each other. The lactonic scent of Joel's aroma had awakened an excitement in Tom's nostrils, which begged for more every time his nose lowered near his partner's neck. Tom's arms gripped at Joel's spine as intensity jolted through his veins fueling the eroticism rushing through his veins. Their legs wiggled, tangled together in a tight knot as their feet pressed against each other in care.

And suddenly all feeling was gone, and Tom's eyelids slowly lifted their weight bringing his sight back to reality. Slowly his pupils adjusted to the light, and his sight sharpened on the huge television in front of him. A lilac wallpaper was spread across the wall behind it with a pattern of tiny baby angels flying about. Shifting on the couch he slept on, he straightened his back completely ignoring the blanket falling off his thighs onto the plain white carpet keeping his feet off the granite underneath. A figure moved in front of him; a young girl of short stature set down a disk carrying a glass of milk and some chocolate cake. She turned around, and stared right through the blue of his pupils.

"You were dreaming about him weren't you?" Antonia was three years younger than Tom, but somehow they came to be best friends since they first came across each other in university. She had dark hair with flames rising from the tips at the bottom. She was looking down at him, but he knew that if he got up, her eyes would have to lift themselves to the point where she would be able to see her brain. Tom wanted to avoid answering the question, but then she crossed her arms in disappointment.

"Our engagement night, yeah."

Antonia's eyes flashed a hint of pity and sorrow before she picked up the plate with the cake.

"Here, eat up." Tom took the plate into his grip and drew a thankful expression on his face. He did not take a bite though. He didn't feel hungry; his stomach still seemed to mourn over the events of the night before rejecting the idea of anything that would bring it some peace. Resting the plate back onto the coffee table Tom got up from the couch in haste, just as he remembered he still had to go to work.

Rushing his uniform onto his body, he thanked Antonia before grabbing his suitcase and dashing out of the apartment. He launched Google maps and targeted his workplace, for he had no idea how to get there from his friend's apartment. The streets felt colder than usual, like an algid gust of wind blew onto his weary expression every turn he made. The new streets made him uncomfortable. The hair on his arms was on red alert, and his eyes shifted to every corner in a matter of seconds. His feet moved at a faster pace every meter he spanned; his shoes moved nervously on the black cement.

"Hey who's this fucker?" Tom heard someone shout from behind, and turning he saw a guy holding a pale green spray paint move a few feet towards him. His clothes looked ragged and the hole in his Barretina hat exposed his bald skull to the cold. He looked around Tom's age, and the dirt on the dark tone of his skin contributed to the image of a financially poor gangster.

"He's cute, lets beat him up!" A younger girl appeared from behind him accompanied by two other men. Her curly hair was a mess and he could see dust blanketing it. Broken pieces of jeweler hang from her wrists and traces of make up where washed around her eyes. "And look at that! Tall, blonde, blue eyes...The dude is a fucking Nazi ahaha." Her raw laugh felt unnecessary to her plain comments on his appearance which stung the back of his mind.

"Yo he doesn't even look American look at that baby faced son of a bitch. You'll be deported with all the other very soon ya hear me?" He guy seemed to be the leader of the group, and the rest seemed to gain confidence from the threatening moves of his body. "But first, wallet!" Tom was not planning to react quickly, until he saw the gangster pull out a pistol from his hoodie and pull it up to his face. The dead center of the barrel emitted a dark and spooky feeling sending frosty goosebumps down Tom's spine. Is fingers shuffled in the front part of his suitcase, blindly looking for the leather wallet. His hands began to shake violently, causing him to drop his wallet onto the muddy ground. Keeping the gun to Tom's eye level, the offender picked it up and began scanning through the money.

"Hey man who's this ugly bastard?" A passport sized picture of Joel emerged between his dirty fingernails, as he raised it for his crew to see. Tom had completely forgotten about it and a wave of depression washed over him lowering his eyelids in frustration. "Who the hell is this? This aint you?"

"Another Nazi?" The girl suggested jokingly.

"Nah his eyes aint blue." He replied still holding the gun tightly right onto Tom's terrified expression.

"What kinda shirt is that? He looks like a complete..."

"Ahhhh I see." He pulled the photograph back to his view. "This your boyfriend?" He pressingly asked as he shoved the tiny image in front of Tom's eyes. It was a picture from their trip to Florida about a year ago. His smile was one of those which could light up an entire city, and the happiness on his expression was not within the boundaries of words to describe.

"Hey boys, it's a fag!" An oppressing laughter bounced between the gangsters as the girl grabbed the photograph and tore it into pieces. It did not hurt as much as it normally would of, but Tom felt like it was something he should have done himself.

Suddenly Tom saw a ragged shape reach up to his face and a moment later he felt a vigorous blow violently crush into his nose. The sound of his bone cracking sharply moved back to his ears as pain exploded throughout the structure of his nose and hastily moved to span his skull. It didn't take long for a second round of pain to come along hitting him on the back of his head, as it hit hard against the brick wall behind him. His knees fell onto the sidewalk and his body suddenly felt like it weighted four time more than his legs could carry. Leaning forward he left some pressure to his elbows as they as well fell onto the filthy ground. He felt weak and hopeless, like a spear of fear pressed deep into his chest. Eyes blurred and ears buzzed as he slowly began losing sense of his surroundings; his elbows gave away and his entire body slumped onto the sidewalk. The dirt crawled onto him like spiders on their pray and his hands felt wet from the mud they just fell in. With the last of his strengths, he raised his head to see the rusty round shape of the firearm closer to him than ever. He heard the gun cock, and released all of his thoughts from his mind.