Eternity's Ending (our version of events) - Book One

Xander

The fact that we were still engaging in stolen moments in a low budget motel room on the outskirts of town had already answered every question I wanted to ask him. I hoped he simply did not know what his actions were saying to me. My role as paramour was bordering on intolerable and I needed to know if he desired more for us than two hours a week of philandering.

"I'm in love with you," I said to reiterate that, for me, this was more than just sex.

"I love you too," he said trying to kiss an end to the conversation.

"Not like I love you," I knew how I sounded; weak and desperate but the words had already leaped from my mouth and could not be taken back.

"Avery," there was an edge to his voice as if he knew what was coming and wanted to counter it before it turned into something that ruined our time together.

I was inclined to tell him to disregard my statement; to force myself to find fulfillment in having any time with him at all but my growing discontentment with this liaison would not allow those words to be delivered.

"Did I ever tell you I was constantly threatening to run away as a child?"

"No, you didn't," h cocked his head to the side, the way he always did when he was trying to figure me out.

"Yeah," I chuckled as I picture my raggedy leather knapsack packed with one clean pair of underwear, two pairs of socks, my second favorite shirt (I always wore my first favorite) and a jacket in case it got chilly, "my bag was constantly packed."

"What were you running away from?" he asked.

I knew he was considering past stories I'd shared with him. By his standards, my life was just shy of perfect.

"Being forced to eat my vegetables. Bedtimes that seemed too early. Fights with friends, not being able to get a puppy. It varied. I was temperamental, to say the least."

"So how far did you get?"

"Never past my parents' bedroom door. My father would see my bag slung over my shoulder and call me into his room for a chat. He'd always start the same way; 'Taking off, son?' I'd tell him I was and he would ask me where I was headed. I never knew so he'd give me two options. 'Well, are you running away from something or are you running toward something?' I never knew, I just knew I was leaving. 'Well, when you figure it out let me know. If you're going the right way, I'll take you there myself.' He'd say and then he'd reach out for my bag. I never chose a direction. If I did, I'm pretty sure I never got it right because I never made it out of the house."

"I'm surprised you wanted to leave home."

"In hindsight, I realize I would have never had it as good in any other place. But as a kid, you don't think of the possibility of things becoming worse. You know, you figure change will always be better than your current predicament."

"So which direction were you headed?" he asked.

"I was running away then."

"And your father refused to let you run," he was in another place as he made his statement.

"Nope, not once."

"Do you ever think about running away now?"

"Running away? No, But I'm always considering pursuing something better. Heading toward some place where I'm okay."

"I'm pretty sure that place doesn't exist," he said dejectedly.

"What would you do if it did?" I look him in the eyes because this is what I needed to know.

What would he do if...if it all came tumbling down? If we were discovered would he stand and fight for me? Would he leave this life behind and run away with me? Would he be there for me at all?

"What would you do?" he shot back.

"I'd do anything you want me to; go anywhere you want me to go. If we had to leave it all and run away tonight, I'd tell you that my bag is already packed. I would do whatever was necessary for us to be together. The question is can you say the same?"

He looked at everything but me and I knew in his avoidance, was my answer.

"I need to be with someone who is willing to do the same for me. I want more than this," I said and when I got up to leave, he didn't even try to stop me, he just whispered...

"It's not that easy."

I wake up seeing red. I can't believe that asshole just let me walk away. Even though it's not Vincent's fault, he's here; so he catches my hell.

"Well, good morning to you, too," Vincent says when I walk into the kitchen without a word.

I grunt and grab a bowl and some cereal. The milk is sitting on the table.

"How long has this been sitting out? You know I hate warm milk," I ask as I walk back to the table.

"It's only been out for a second, relax."

"Don't fucking tell me to relax," I mutter.

"Did you get your 'P' or something?" I hate that he calls my period, my "P" even more than I hate warm milk.

"So because you left the milk out, I've got my period. How does that work?"

"No. Because you're being ultra-Xander this morning, you got your 'P'."

I can't be sure but I think he just called me a bitch.

"I didn't get my period and stop calling it a "P"."

"Censorship. Another key indicator that your 'P' is in the house!" he's laughing at me now, which drives me insane.

"Why don't you go back to bed. I'll bring you some chocolate bars and a heating pad. And if I can find one on such short notice, a Priest to do your exorcism," he gets up from the table to put his empty bowl in the dishwasher.

I hurl the box of cereal at him. It's wide right, missing him and hitting the counter before dumping its contents onto the floor beside his feet.

"Terrible aim, another key indicator," Vincent is laughing hysterically.

I consider throwing my bowl or spoon. It's not like I have cereal to eat. I get up and go back to bed instead. I'm not in need of an exorcism but maybe a Priest can help me put an end to these dreams.