WARNING: Homosexual relationship. Boy on Boy action. Gay guys. If you don't like that sort of thing, then please, go hit that 'back' button.

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I’ve been sitting here for hours. Goddamn airports. Always hated them. But, damnit, this way of travel is quickest. Unless you count the hours waiting for your delayed plane. Why are they always so slow?

I give a groan and the lady sitting next to me glares, before going back to her laptop. Really, it’s insane. I have no books to read, nothing to listen to, nothing to write, no one to talk to. Absolutely nothing to do. I’ve become so bored, that I have lowered myself to people watching (okay, it’s not that bad, but still).

The lady next to me (the one that had glared) is probably some sort of business woman. She has that snooty I-own-you look. Plus, she’s wearing a grey suit along with square, rimless glasses. She’s either conversing on her small, new looking (and probably expensive) cell phone or typing away on her slim laptop. Absently, I notice that she’s wearing a gold link bracelet on her right wrist and that she’s missing the button on her suit pocket.

And on the other side of me, there’s a guy there. Damn, he’s yummy looking. Being bi has its perks sometimes. But then I see that on his left ring finger, there’s a gold wedding band. Aw, man. All the hot ones are either taken, jerks, or straight.

I avert my gaze from the man and slouch in my chair. Have I mentioned I hate airports? Oh, yeah, I have. My god…Another frustrated groan escapes me, and when that lady glares at me, I turn and glare right on back. Wow. Who knew someone’s expression can go from angry to offended in less than a second?

“Sorry for the delay,” a calm voice says from the speakers near me, “Passengers for flight 317 from Los Angeles to Chicago may the board the plane at gate H5…” I nearly jump up in relief and joy, but I restrain the urge to. But, hey, who wouldn’t jump for joy when they realize their flight is going to leave? And-hey, wait a second…damnit, this just means I’m going to have to sit on a plane for four hours…Augh, damn airports.

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As I exit the airplane, my whole body seems to relax and become unknotted. I had thought I would have been able to sleep, but no. At first, it was because some person brought their child on the plane and the kid screamed and cried for a long time. I had to resist banging my head on something hard just to knock myself out. Then, once someone shut the kid up, the lady next to me started chattering annoyingly. That had been four hours of pure Hell. Seriously.

I start to walk past the baggage claim/carousel area, when two arms wrap around my neck and knock me slightly off balance. I grab the person and push them away a bit to see who the hell they are. Ah, yes. The only reason I would come back to Chicago. My dearest sister.

She gives a high-pitched squeal (god, how are females able to make that kind of sound without either going deaf or bursting their voice box is beyond me) and pulls me into another hug. Erk.

“Hey Chelsea,” I choke out.

“Hey bro,” she replies. I pull myself out of her Hug of Death© and grin at her excited expression.

“Oh my god, Charlie, I seriously thought you wouldn’t come. I thought that even though you said you would, you would just stop yourself at the last minute…” she says. Yes, that thought had briefly crossed my mind, but I would not miss my baby sister’s wedding for the world.

She frowns and gazes up at me. “Well…with what happened and all, I thought you would have stayed as far away as Chicago as possible.” Thank you so much for reminding me. And just to let you know, I had been avoiding Chicago. Had being the key word there. I stay silent.

She grabs my wrist and drags me towards the baggage claim with a grin.

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I drop my bag to the richly carpeted floor and glance around. One king size bed, TV, bathroom, closet, and table. I had stayed at the Congress Hotel a long time ago, but still it seems so different from the last time. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m older now. I think that over for half a second before flopping down on to the bed.

Getting a rental car had been worse than the plane ride over. Wait. I think that over for more than a second then change my mind. I can only think one thing that was worse than that plane ride. I stick my tongue out in thought of the plane from Hell.

I turn my head slightly and stare out the open window, which overlooks Buckingham Fountain. Memories spring up and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block said memories out. Damn. This was one of the reasons I had avoided Chicago. Memories accompanied almost anything in this city. Groaning in aggravation, I pinch the bridge of my nose and hope the memories leave me alone for the rest of the night so I don’t start to brood on them.

If I started thinking and brooding on them, I would stay up all night doing that. I needed my sleep though so I could be up to make it in time to the wedding. Yeah, couldn’t be late to that. Chelsea would skin me alive if I was late. Then she would chop me up into teeny, tiny pieces and feed me to a pack of starving wolves.

I ignore the fact that I’m still in the clothes I had worn that day, reach over and turn off the lamp, and tell myself to sleep.

The memories pop up again. It’s like one of those annoying pop up ads on the Internet that took forever to get rid of. I grab a pillow and put it over my mouth to muffle the scream of frustration that explodes from me.