Because, Brett... [BxB]

Prologue

The first time I saw him, I knew that I wanted him.

I'd wondered if he'd wanted me too.

He must've.

It could never have been coincidence, meeting like that. Because at that moment, I knew I had to have him.

At that moment, I knew it was our destiny to be together.

+ + +

We were sitting next to each other since there were no other seats available where he could've sat on his own - he'd chosen me. I remember everything so vividly, the gentle rumble of the train, the blue zig-zag pattern on the seats that smelt like sweat and smoke, but his smell, his soft musk, barely covered by a hint of cologne after a long night. It was intoxicating.

He was so young as well. Smooth, supple skin and dark, thick hair that fell lazily over his eyes. So beautiful.

Over the past few weeks, I'd wondered if he had noticed my staring that day. I wouldn't have been surprised, but then again, I didn't really care. I'd wanted to leave an impression, to leave my mark on him so that he'd remember me for the next time we'd meet.

Now I can't stop thinking about that prospect. The next time we'd meet.

Throughout the train ride, I remember he would occasionally glance my way, his eyes lifting up from his book for hardly a second. He'd then adjust his earphones, tap his foot along gently to the beat of whatever song he was listening to before focusing once again on his book. But I knew he'd seen me every time because I couldn't believe that his cheeks were naturally that rosy.

Sometimes he would flick his hair back with his fingers. I liked that because it meant that I could see him better. I bet it was on purpose too, flaunting his sharp cheekbones and long eyelashes. He was just begging for my attention.

It was at that point, the speakers buzzed and the announcement went out, "The next stop is Bridgehaven."

He stood up, the boy, tucking his book into his satchel before slinging it over his shoulder. He tugged at the sides of his coat, pulling it tighter around himself to do the zipper all the way up to his throat.

The train came to a grinding halt.

"Excuse me," He uttered and I swung my legs to the side to let him pass. He didn't so much as look at me as he slipped by. Turning his eyes down and shoving his hands into his pockets, he began to work his way to the open doors. I found it completely infuriating.

Without a second thought on the matter, I too stood up, careful to stay a safe distance behind him as I got off the train. The one thing that kept me on his trail as I followed him out of the station was the idea that if I let him get away, I might never see him again. He was so perfect that night and I couldn't let him slip through my fingers.

When the boy took a right turn, I waited a few seconds, glanced at my surroundings and I took a right turn too. When he slowed, looking behind to check the road before he crossed, my heart leapt into my throat but I took a step back and slipped behind a building. The whole time, I made sure I stuck to the shadows and it was as clear as his tight little ass was in those jeans that he hadn't a clue I was there.

Eventually, he came to a stop outside a small townhouse - dull bricks and small windows. My eyebrow rose as I watched his fist rap on the door and I took a hesitant step forward so that I could see better past the parked car I was standing behind. A girl answered the door. Blond - go figure. She was short though, maybe a head shorter than my boy and a tad chubby around the middle. I supposed she could've been pretty though, if you were into that kind of thing.

Unfortunately, I couldn't hear a thing from how far away I was standing, but as soon as that little bitch wrapped her arms around him, I came to the conclusion that I hated her. Immensely. She soon after ushered him inside and when the door closed with a click, I gave up on my hiding spot.

I paced forwards until I was standing by the gate to his front garden, again, small, but at least it had some character to it with a few flowers here and there.

I knew exactly what I was doing as I went to his letterbox. Maybe I had stopped for a moment to think about whether what I was doing was okay or not, I can't remember, but if I had, it was overridden with this need to know him. I glanced up at the house to ensure I had no onlookers before I took the plunge. There wasn't much mail, I noticed. Most of what was there was addressed to one Alice Howe, the blonde girl, probably, and as I neared the end of the stack I began to grow a bit disheartened. I needed to know his name.

But then, the last letter, as if pure gold was staring back at me, the name:

Brett Howe.

+ + +

It's incredible the things you can find out about someone simply from a name. I feel closer to Brett, somehow.

I know everything about him, his likes, his dislikes, his friends, where he works. I know that he's twenty-three and bisexual. I know that his last girlfriend dumped him for a stoner with a big cock and that the blond bitch he lodges with is his sister. I know that last week he went to the club I own to have drinks with friends.

He posts all of it.

Seeing him through a screen isn't the same though. I just need to be near him again, to smell him. Because, Brett. . . he's special.