Flash

.2

The next thing Hercules knew, he was sitting against the tree with the French native next to him, cuddled up under his cloak. He would never admit it to anyone, but Lafayette was absolutely gorgeous in the shallow lighting of mid-morning.

He shook his head, refusing his thoughts. Maybe he would succumb to Lafayette's velvety lips, his guilty pleasure since the coffee-scented individual left, but he would never let his yet to be disclosed, aching love to take control of him.

He wanted to, so badly. All he wanted to hold the Cinnamon skinned individual, somehow dealing with the fact that he looked exactly like Thomas Jefferson with his hair down, playing with his deep brown, poofy hair, in which at one time he was the only person who could.

Hercules hadn't realized that he was crying, his tears dripping onto the maroon dress-shirt he went out in. He reached for the bandana in his pocket, the color contrasting the perfect amount against the pale-blue of his jeans. He was a tailor after all. 

Hercules remembers every happy time he had with the one and only. When they were six, Hercules and Lafayette were both at the right place at the right time, and Hercules caught Lafayette from falling off the swing, catching him like a 'damsel in distress,' ever since then, that very moment, they were the best of friends. They went to the park as often as they slept, playing around, giggling, making new memories. Maybe thats what pained him the most. Losing his best friend in the storm.

He laughs humorlessly. That also happened to be how he found Laf and his new lover. Hercules had waited at the park for over an hour; smiling with a slowly wilting baby pink rose, eventually dropping it to the ground in the doorway of the bedroom, crying and running away at the sourly sensual scene in front of him.

Herc rubs his eyes, slowly getting up and brushing himself off. He sighs, walking towards the old dock he and Laf would always take over when they went fishing. This was Hercules hometown, Lad moved to the small town when he was four. After he disappeared, he never spoke to Hercules, no evidence of him even being alive. Herc sighs, singing a song they knew together.

He gently sings the lower parts, almost jumping out of his pants when the all-too-familiar higher voice joins him.

Lafayette stood there, glorious as ever in the morning light, giggling and showing off his perfect smile. Hercules gulps,

"What are you doing back, Laf?" His name rolled off of Hercules lips just the same it did five years earlier.

It brought back too many memories to Hercules mind for him to handle. He coughs,

"I need a drink," he says, standing up, "you getting one too?"

He turns to Lafayette fully at last. He's even more gorgeous in person than in memory, and his skin shone like salted caramel in the sun.

Lafayette nods, and Hercules turns abruptly, heading for the pub.

"The usuals," he grunts, sitting down at his normal table.

Lafayette can tell he's torn the darker-skinned male in front of him apart, just by a stupid mistake. He was guilt tripped, yes, but he still had the power to say no.

Lafayette made an audible gulp, and the bartender brought Hercules his three pints of sam Adams and two shots of vodka. Hercules downs the shots, starting on the pints.

Now Lafayette can tell he really  tore this man apart.

"What made you such a mess, Herc?" Laf asks in his French accent, looking concerned at his past lover, who's eyes were outlined with blackened, charcoal circles, his once bright chocolate eyes darkened to a dark void. His face was sunken in, lips thinner and chapped, paler. He was skinnier, and his fashion sense sure did go down from before.

Hercules sighs, resting his forehead against his hand.

"Why the fuck did you really do it, Laffy?" The question caught the Frenchman off-guard, and he would've thought the Irish-born male was sober, if he didn't have a half-pin of Sam Adams in his hand.

He doesn't answer.

"I gave you everything I could," his voice cracks, "fucking everything." He continued, a tear escaping into his hand.

Lafs neutral expression wavered, but before he could continue, Hercules did.

"I got you your favorite rose. Y'know, the baby pink one? Signifying innocent love, friendship, compassion." He cries into his own hands,

"A-and.... I got you a promise ring. Yeah. The expensive one in the store we saw that one day? I spent Six months saving for it. That's why I couldn't take you out on expensive dates. Is that why? Was it because I was trying my damned hardest, but it still wasn't enough? Was it because he was rich and I'm not? I tried so hard. I wanted to spend my life with you," he scoffs, "but obviously you didn't feel the same."

He drops cash on the counter, looking back at Lafayette one last time before he appeared in his dreams again.

"Keep the jacket, please don't come to find me. You've caused enough damage as it is."

Lafayette was speechless.

He never knew that. Now, though, there was no way to fix what was lost. He had his shot and he threw it away.

Just to say, Lafayette drank that two-and-a-half pints of Sam Adams that day.