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

Xander

I'd spent every moment without him trying to consider his final words to me, "it's not that easy." I felt as though it should have been. The choice to be happy with me should have been a simple one to make. I intended on forcing him to reconsider when he removed his shirt. The bruises, masked too strategically by clothing, did not require a question of source; not that he would ever reveal it to me. His father's antipathy, tattooed temporarily along his rib cage paired with the faraway look in his eyes labeled him a timeline. I took great pains to avoid his battered parts, which were so far and few between, as I wrapped him protectively in my arms.

"Can we just lay here?" he asked gingerly.

Time together, alone, was not easy for us to come by and was reserved specifically for those things we could not do in full view of the public; things my body was screaming for but my breaking heart quickly quieted. I laid my head on the pillow beside him and took his hand in mine. The damage done to his body revealed itself in the pain etched on his face but I didn't know how to ease it.

"Do you ever get tired?" he asked, breaking the ten minutes of silence we existed in.

I'm not sure I understand his question or that he really even wants an answer. I didn't respond, hoping he would continue on until I received some clue as to how to provide him with the answer he required.

"Sometimes life is so exhausting. Don't you ever get tired of leading two of them?"

I remembered the loving concern with which my parents expressed to me my right to the life and love of my choosing when it became clear I wasn't much like the other boys.

"Just remember people have just as much right to their opinion of your choices as you have to your choices. Be very selective about the opinions your actions and behavior solicit."

From that moment on, the duality of being who I truly was and who I showed the world became second nature.

"I've never known any other existence."

His voice broke as he congratulated my good fortune. Tears chased each other down his face and I held him as close as I could without adding to the amount of pain he was currently enduring.

"I'm tired of waking up," the conclusion ambled from his tongue.

"Don't be obscene!" I screamed.

I shot up from the pillow, using his beaten chest as a stabilizer. He winced but I ignored it. If he could so casually threaten to bring such pain to me, why should I care about the pain I was inflicting now, which was minor in comparison?

"I can't conceive of living without you."

"I'm dragging you down, Avery. Look at me. Only a fool should want me now."

Rage ignited the tears that had been simmering beneath my eyelids. The wildfire swept through me, torching my censored rebuttal to his cry for help. Insults to his love for me were stockpiled and ready to be launched at him. I gathered him in my crosshairs, prepared to unload round upon round of vilification on him when he took my face in his hands.

"You're not allowed to cry," he said kissing both eyelids dry.

I held him tightly, hostage almost, trying to impress upon him the embrace he had been denied his entire life; knowing it would not replace the one that never found him. Still, I had to try, if for no more than purely selfish reasons. Lessons learned through the love of my parents leaked from me, pushing to eradicate the hopelessness the intolerance of his father and passiveness of his mother had bred. But even in my arms, he was alone. I wondered where I was when he stopped trying. The guilt of my absence shoved the words from my mouth. Though I didn't mean to beg for the opportunity to save his life; that's exactly how the words tumbled from me.

"If you let me stand by you, honor is mine. Not foolishness. Honor. Please do me the honor of letting me stand by you."

Vincent's voice reaches into my subconscious and snatches me from sleep.

"Are you awake?"

My non-response compels him to shake me intensely.

"I'm awake, shit," I throw his hands off me.

I'm not sure what he heard but the way he stares at me tells me he heard way too much. Vincent's fingertips sweep across my cheekbones collecting tears. I think he is waiting for me to speak; to tell him about the dream. But all I want to do is go back to sleep and see if my offer was accepted. I pull the covers over my head and slam my eyes shut. I can feel Vincent hovering over me, waiting for some type of explanation but what would I even say to him.