Freedom is Learning to Let Go

Chapter 9

It is not uncommon for consecutive days of suffering to merge together into an undefined blotch of grey. As time pursues its unreachable goal, transforming the future into the past, this insatiable patch of tenebrosity devours each passing second. Its excessive feasting disables one's mind, hindering the ability to perceive a days passage. Even the most vibrant of consciences can be degraded into a labyrinth darker than night itself.

Grey is a cruel color by its very nature with its ability to absorb even the most vivid of colors.

It is a result of too many favorable colors existing on a plane of existence. For example, if seven swatches of wet paint were aligned in the pattern of a rainbow and forcibly mixed together, a monstrosity would form. If you were to pour a drop of yellow paint upon a grey swatch, the ladder would win.

It was a cruel fact, that David, in his infinite vigor, would dissolve into the fatalistic abyss of Klaus's life. It was not that the man desired such an end, but rather, that he found it inescapable.

Like a stroke of luck, the model had appeared out of nowhere and foolishly fallen for a misfit.

Oh heavens was Klaus charmed by his beauty, his kindness and unfortunately, his vulnerability. Perhaps this attraction could explain his inability to control himself, and its prominence the fateful night the two men had met.

Logic demanded he abandon The Tunnel for all of eternity, prompting him to forget the smoldering memories of this kind stranger.

In contrast, the ache within his chest cried for more, enticed by the idea that the sweet melody of David's very existence could be captured by even a broken heart. Fear and aspiration clashed, the desire to love and the desire to run simultaneously coursing through his veins. Being unable to choose perpetually paralyzed the addict.

Why couldn't he stop himself from frantically searching for the other man?

Each sorrowful step he took into the boundless expanse of white sparkles intensified his longing to be held by those strong arms or entrapped in the radiance of his oceanic eyes.

"Dave?" his voice called into the neverending stretch of drunken beings, wandering the tract without purpose.

It was a moment later, the impossible happened. Klaus had finally caught a break- there he  was, perfectly manicured hands wiping shiny specks off his leather jacket. His eyes shot back towards the club, seemingly mourning, before he started down the block.

"W-wait!" Hargreeves exclaimed, the snowflakes trembling in the wake of his warm breath.

His thin legs seemingly moved on their own, propelling him forward in quick steps, as if they were unable to part with those distant memories inside The Tunnel .

Dave perked up at his call, turning around to meet his magnetic stare. He momentarily postponed his journey, giving the other man time to reach him.

Oh the things Klaus wanted to say! The things he would say if his tongue wasn't in shackles.

The other man would just have to break the silence.