He laid awake for hours. Just staring at the ceiling and listening to Julie squeal into her phone loud enough to shatter glass. It had been like this for four days. He couldn’t sleep.

Just closing his eyes made him want to shoot himself.

It was bad enough during the day. Driving to classes and seeing him everywhere, in every dark-haired person. Whenever someone walked by he’d have to do a double-take just to make sure it wasn’t him. It tortured him during lectures. He could barely understand the professor because when he said ‘Maslow’ he thought he heard ‘Catalano’ and whenever he would look down at his notebook he would realize it was navy blue.

But his grades were fine. Everything was fine. Except when he laid down and tried to close his eyes and heard his own voice again.

“Do it...”

He’d toss and turn for hours. Telling himself off, talking himself down. Making excuses for the never-ending ache and pull. Trying to blot his face from his vision. Why had he said it? The argument went back and forth. He had to, but he didn’t. He wanted, but he couldn’t. He was supposed to be alone, but when he wasn’t...

... God, when he wasn’t... Just remembering...

But then the heat would sweep over him and he would forget all those good, reasonable excuses he’d had and start feeling angry. Asking himself how he could possibly be so stupid, how he could give Aaron away, let him run off and marry Princess Priscilla. Never to be seen again.

“You make everything alright but you...”

He felt like he’d broken his own heart.

And he knew it wasn’t his fault. Not when Aaron was the one who started it all. First kiss was on him, that’s for sure. But after that... Things just spiraled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d let something get so out of his control. And it was such a minefield he felt he was lucky to escape without a scratch. He would tell himself so. Every morning when he opened his eyes, every time he smoked a cigarette, every time he caught a glimpse of jet black hair; he’d think to himself We’re so lucky we stopped... Aaron’s with his girl... I’m still the Lone Ranger... We’re so lucky we can forget...

And he’d say it to himself all day. Until he closed his eyes.

And Aaron’s face flashed like lightning into his vision, in perfect detail.

Why did I even... His heart would skip and triple-beat, and he’d turn over onto his back to stare at the ceiling just as he was doing now.

And this would go on for three more days until the fates decided to bless him with a second chance. The chance he promised he’d take.

---

Sweeping the comb through his hair, Aaron arranged his curls as tastefully as he could while so distracted. It was impossible to concentrate. His gaze kept drifting from the mirror to the little white box on his desk. The beautiful ring inside it.

A 1.75 carat marquise cut diamond in a white gold setting that had been molded with elaborate designs by hand. His grandmother’s engagement ring. Crafted in the 1920's and passed down to his mother when the old bat died at the ripe old age of eighty-seven. When he’d asked for it the woman nearly woke the neighborhood with her shrieking. Within ten minutes she was handing him the little box with delicate fingers, clasping him in her arms and kissing his cheeks as she blubbered on about Priscilla and the Middletons. What a fine choice he was making, how Priscilla and he would be so happy. And he remained steady, took it all. Because in his mind he could still hear it.

“Do it...”

He forced it away. He had a plan. Get dressed, make the reservations, pick up Priscilla at six-thirty, pop the question before desert. Simple, fast, easy because he wasn’t nervous at all. His heart was steady, his mind made up. And every time he looked at that ring he remembered Don’s face, his unbelievable green eyes, and he’d lose a little nerve until he remembered.

“You should marry her...”

The comb clattered to his night-stand and he picked up the box just to look at it. The stone glimmered bright and sharp before his eyes, taunting him for reasons he was ashamed to know. He thought of Don’s face, how sure he was when he said it... Every time that jewel flashed in the lamplight he saw those eyes again. How had he gotten so fucked up?

Before Don he’d been trying to kill it. Get rid of that terrifying place in his mind that made it so impossible to love Priscilla. He’d been close, just close enough to consider marriage had she not pressed it. But the second he met Donnelly O’Keefe things with Priscilla got worse and worse. The part that kept trying to tell him how much he loved her took a nose-dive. It always did when she started talking like they were newlyweds. But besides that, he found himself captivated to the point of distraction.

Don rushed into his face like a speeding car and took his attention away. Colorful, smart-alecky, filled with more life and excitement than he’d seen since he was a child. All his boyish ways and ‘fix-it’ attitude charmed him, and soon he was falling fast and hard. Kissing him in back-alleys. Touching him in video arcades. Something deep and unbelievable was pushing itself through, jumping over the line and charging past every paper defense he had.

Because just one kiss from Don made him forget that he’d been making love to a woman for two years.

But then he’d tried to make it okay. Of course he had to make it okay, Don said it wasn’t and it was mostly his fault anyway. So he talked to Priscilla. He brought back those old feelings. Why he loved her, how much he loved her, and even then mocking himself because O’Keefe had been all he could think about. Just hearing his voice over and over, telling him this needed to be fixed. Stupidly he thought he’d solved the problem, and apparently he had. Just not the way he wanted to.

With Don leaving, never even saying goodbye.

Telling him, “You should marry her,” just to save himself. Just to make the whole picture glossy and framed without him in it. To make them miserable and himself lonely.

Don should never have to be lonely.

The ring box snapped closed and he looked at his watch. He had about twenty minutes to get to her place. Might as well leave now.

---

He’d chosen the little French Bistro because Priscilla loved the food and it was just intimate enough to set the right mood. Their table was outside and his chair scraped the concrete as he sat down. The box weighed heavy in his pocket. Like a hand-grenade. Coughing into his fist he took a slow breath and squared himself for the night ahead.

“Oh, they have a new menu!” She smiled brightly and he told himself I’m going to see that smile every day for the rest of my life... Because that’s what he was supposed to think. But he was supposed to feel good about it and he didn’t know how. “Should we order wine?”

“If you want.” He nodded to himself. I’ll make her happy... “I think I’ll get the veal.”

“I like the fish here.” She brushed a piece of hair behind her ear and slid the napkin into her lap. I’ll give her everything... Her dress was blue, snug and knee-length. He wondered if she would always look so perfect. Don’s horrendous jacket drifted into his mind. He shook it away.

“Sounds good.” Smiling amicably he leaned back in his chair and wondered where their waiter was. “So you’ve got the year all planned out already?”

“I have an interview with the Inquirer tomorrow.” She nodded as she sipped her water. “Mom already set up some projects for my résumé. God, I can’t believe some of the competition I have. There’s this girl from Georgia who, like, kills in the interview. She’ll take a top-five slot for sure. And the girl with the New Jersey title has a community service portfolio that makes her look like Florence Nightingale or something.”

“It is Miss America.” Chiding her warmly, he shook his head and put a hand in his pocket. The box was cool and solid. He hated touching it. “You’ll do fine.”

The waiter came and took their order. After that the chatter passed friendly, superficially romantic. She was lovely that evening. Hair loose and flowing over her shoulders, thin body perched ladylike on her chair. This is the one you want... He told himself. Look at her... You’ve loved her forever, you’d be crazy to...

Stars gleamed bright and loud against the sky and he thought of Don’s freckles, just like he promised. Sprinkled over his nose and cheeks, making playful trails down his neck. Making him look like he’d never grow up.

In his pocket the box felt like a ten-pound weight.

“How did the pictures turn out?” She asked, dropping her fingers around her wine glass.

“Great.” He nodded, sipping from his own. “Wonderful. You look gorgeous, as always.”

“I saw the ones you took of Ninette last year. God, she was such a heifer! I wonder how she lost all that weight...”

As she prattled on he felt around the box for his cigarettes, mentally cursing Don to Hell. Did he have to bring back all his bad habits? But the thought of his lips encircling the butt of his Camel as he smirked out some jab made Aaron’s stomach feel weightless. He flicked on the dime-store lighter and heard Priscilla gasp as he lit up, taking a puff of the cig and exhaling quietly.

“Aaron!” She groused, giving him a dirty look. “I thought you quit!”

“Sorry.” He took another puff and snuffed it out. You’re going to marry her... “I’ve just been really stressed lately.”

“You shouldn’t fall back on old crutches.” Shaking her long brown hair she looked up as the waiter handed them their food. “What’s bothering you?”

Green eyes came back to him. “You should marry her...” The way he looked that day. Like he wanted to fade into nothing. “Do it...” “Just things going on. School. Finals are coming up.”

“Oh,” She smiled faintly. “I forgot.”

The green napkin on the table matched Don’s eyes. And his jacket. “Yeah, I’m worried about the Honors courses.”

“You’ll do fine.”

How many times had they reassured one another that night? How much reassurance would he need before their wedding day?

Don’t worry, you love her. You always will.

Forget about Casey, forget about Don. You’re straight as a board.

It’s okay. After the wedding you’ll be happy. You’ll be with her for the rest of your life.

The ring was a fifteen-pound bowling ball.

Stars above twinkled boldly and Aaron pushed around the veal on his plate. It was time. So most obviously time. She was sitting across from him fiddling with her necklace and staring off. The silence stretched on and he told himself he loved quiet as he got to his feet and came to her side. Her eyes popped wide open and she stared up at him with her beautiful lips agape. “Priscilla...”

Will you marry me... His mind whispered as he took her hand in his. Will you be my wife...

Will you spend long, stiff dinners with me every night and silent breakfasts with me every morning...

Will you wear my twice-divorced grandmother’s last engagement ring...

Will you get angry when I quit my medical practice to take pictures for a living...

Will you know it when I think of his face as I kiss you...

He took her hand and she gazed up at him brown eyes shining.

“You’re beautiful.” He tried to stop shaking, tried to force himself back. He could do neither. “You’re perfect. But I can’t do this to myself.”

When she stood he let her slap him across the face. Even waited in the middle of a staring audience to pay the check. He deserved much worse.

---

“Damn it!” He cursed as another button fell off the thirty year old jacket he was trying to repair. That was the fourth. There was only one button sturdy enough to stay on, and that was only because he’d just sewn it himself. Sighing as he bit the thread from the needle, he tied it quickly and retrieved the cursed button from the floor.

Restless was an understatement these days. When he couldn’t sleep he became even more so. Going from one task to another rapidly, just so he wouldn’t have to think about the reason for his unrest. It had become a theme over the last week. Except for the fact that it wasn’t working. Not even close. Because every once in a while a grandmother would come in and donate a navy blue suit, or some kid would throw them an old Grease t-shirt, and he’d remember how friggin’ stupid it was to even try to focus. Even Rita had noticed something was off.

“Hey baby, you a’right?” She was a pretty mother of three who barely had time to own the shop. The youngest was just starting highschool. The oldest, Dominic, in his second year of college. Yet, somehow, she kept Savos Consignments running like a dream and herself looking good enough to attract attention. Worrying over Don shouldn’t have to be a concern. But he was her only non-family employee. “You don’t look so good.”

“I’m okay.” He held the needle between his teeth as he spoke, pulling the jacket off his knees to examine it. “This jacket’s screwed, though.”

“Seriously boy.” Swinging her hips she headed for their little make-shift kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee as she examined her copper-painted nails. “You been actin’ like a tornado all week. We all know you only get like that when somethin’s up. Speak it or you gon’ wind up on movin’ duty with ‘Niccy.”

He shuddered at the thought. Moving duty was heavy lifting as it was. But Dominic and he... Well, they didn’t get along. He was more of a lazy-ass than anything. Preferred to play his damn DS and bark orders over his shoulder. Asshole.

“Well, I...” He tried to begin and found he couldn’t. It was practically impossible to think about now, with all the work he’d done trying to forget it. The memories remained clear as a photograph, but the words were stuck in his throat. “I wouldn’t say I broke up with somebody, but...”

They both turned as they heard the bell ring outside, and Rita made a show of taking long sips of her coffee. Don rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’ve got it.”

Brushing his hands down the front of his shirt and putting the needle and thread aside, he threw the jacket over the table to be fixed later. But the second he came through the curtain he stopped dead.

Aaron Catalano. The most casual he’d ever seen him in stiff jeans and a black t-shirt. Hair still gelled all curly. Looking as shocked as he was.

They were both still for a moment. Don felt weighted to the floor and Aaron looked like he would fall through the display glass. He looked leaner dressed so normally, and a lot less confident. But maybe that look was only because he didn’t know what to do. Don didn’t blame him. He had no idea himself.

He opened his mouth and closed it, then opened it again praying to God something would come out. “What’re you doing here?” It was softer than his normal tone and he wiped the hair from his eyes to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Again. For the fourth time that day.

Aaron didn’t even speak. He looked like he was about to say something but he stopped himself before he could. But then he reached into his pocket and dropped a little white box onto the counter. Don didn’t have to open it to know what was inside.

His green eyes slipped from the box to the man and back. This can’t be for real... His mind was racing, trying to pick things up and put them all back. Trying to shove away those three days between them and turn him into someone else. Someone he hadn’t been aching to see since the pageant ended a week before. Someone whose lips and eyes and face could be entirely forgotten in a matter of seconds.

It was impossible.

“Rita?” He called into the curtained off room “I’m gonna take a smoke break, okay?”

“Sure, baby.” She sounded nonchalant. Oh yeah. She was eavesdropping.

And he was able to move again; not just move, but charge. Grab Aaron by the arm and take him through the store and out the back exit until they were trapped in the little side alley between two dormant moving vans. When he stopped he turned on the Italian boy half-angry and half-confused. Inside, however, none of those feelings mattered. Inside he was exhilarated to the point of delirium. His lungs were aching for air and his heart was going faster than a rocket.

His deep brown eyes stared down at him as imposing and powerful as ever. They made Don shake again, so nervous. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Why the Hell couldn’t he live in peace?

“What the Hell are you doing here?” He asked again, not sure where else to begin. A gelled curl fell into Aaron’s face and he almost reached up to brush it away, just so he knew for sure. Just so he could feel him again.

“My grandmother’s engagement ring.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t marry her. And if I could, I wouldn’t give her that thrice-damned ring anyway.” He said it quick and breathless. He was scared too, and for a second that thought made Don feel so much better.

“You stupid...” He almost punched him. For not getting engaged. For no longer being off-limits. “You’ve been with her for two years-”

“Time doesn’t mean shit.” Looking to the side he spat the curse like poison. “I’m not marrying her. I’m not marrying anybody.”

“You told me you would...” He felt like he was whining, but God this was so unreal. “You said...”

“... If you really wanted me to.” Catalano nodded, still looking off to the side. “Yeah.”

“And I told you to do it.” Echoing his own words felt wrong. It felt stupid. “I told you...”

“But I didn’t.” He stepped closer. Way closer than he should have. They both felt the tremors rage through their skin when their eyes met, brown and green. This was how it got there, wasn’t it? Just meeting his eyes Don could go from one side of the spectrum to another. And, Hell, Aaron was just the same. He could jump from proper to serious with just a look.

Still further he closed in, towering above him as though they were about to fight. But they knew otherwise. They knew they were walking on eggshells now.

“You’re the reason and you know it.”

When Aaron spoke Don’s green eyes grew to the size of plates. His hands shot out to grip the blasted jacket before he could run away like a scared rabbit. Which was a good idea, actually, since Don really was about to run.

“I thought I wasn’t gonna see you again. I thought I...” Trailing off a moment, he brushed the curl from his eyes and dropped his hand back to Don’s shoulder. “I thought I’d never get this feeling anymore. I thought I’d never have anybody.”

“You have Priscilla.” Don blurted. Aaron shook his head.

“Had.” It was sad to hear and most-likely sad to say. “I loved her for a long time. But she...”

When his hand touched his face, swiping a thumb over the freckles on his cheek, they both knew how doomed they were.

“... She never made me feel like I wanted to make her happy.”

Don stepped back. Aaron stepped closer. He pressed his lips to Don’s cheek chastely and stepped back again, looking so beautifully ruined the redhead couldn’t think. But the lips never faded. He could trace their shape on his skin.

“When you’re happy Don, I just...” Catalano smiled a little, looking down and to the side. “I get this feeling. It’s like everything heavy and wrong about the world just doesn’t exist anymore. And you smile and, man, I get knocked sideways...”

“Aaron...” He whispered, feeling so pleasantly wrecked and crazy that he had to grip his jacket just to keep from touching him.

“And I know I’ve been stupid-”

“No, I’ve been-” O’Keefe was cut off before he could start.

“But I’m here now.” He looked up from the ground and smiled a little. “I guess I got lucky.”

“... You’re telling me...” He felt like he was in shock. Just completely in shock. Like the sky was falling.

“So if you’re still waiting for another chance, go ahead and take it.” The Italian took a breath and touched his face again looking more scared than he ever had. “I want you to.”

Don didn’t wait.

When he leaned up Aaron leaned down and his hands dug into that black t-shirt and it was so perfect he was knocked off his feet. Just the way it was. So completely sure this time, no longer scared or confused. On purpose. Completely on purpose and out of every raw wound he still had.

Aaron’s fingers pushed past the jacket and around his back, holding him around the waist as his kiss made him stumble back against the brick. His fingers let go of the shirt and started clinging from one place to another, never sure where to land because he couldn’t be more amazed with Aaron’s body. Couldn’t even believe it was real. With the way his lungs were screaming he could be dead by now, up in heaven making out with an Aaron-shaped angel. He pondered this theory until he felt one of his hands cup his ass. He wasn’t sure they were allowed to do that in heaven, so he finally locked his arms around Catalano’s neck and dropped his lips away to breathe before taking his chance again and again, making Aaron love it each and every time.

A second later they found themselves gasping, rocking against each other just for the feeling. It was amazing. Just to be like this when they’d thought for sure their hope was gone. Aaron’s fingers dug into his jacket and pulled him into his body, making ecstacy with their clothes between them. Making Don’s knees weak.

And then Don’s cellphone rang.

With an audible growl he ripped the thing from his pocket and pushed Aaron back a little. “What?!”

“Don!” It was Julie, sniffing and whimpering through the receiver. “Mom’s buying stuff for American Sweetheart and she just picked up the most horrible dress! It’s electric-banana-y-”

“It’s sunny!” He heard his mother break in and rolled his eyes. “Like lemonade. You’ll look marvelous in it on stage-”

“I’m Not Wearing It!”His sister screeched like a banshee and Aaron jumped back three feet.

“Christ.” Don muttered as he brought the phone to his ear again. “Alright, I’ll be right there.”

When he hung up he called into the store. “Rita?!”

“Yeah?”

“When’re Niccy and Carla showin’ up?”

“‘Bout a half hour.”

“Can you make do without me?”

“I’ll be a’right.”

“Jesus.” He muttered again, slipping the phone back into his pocket and cursing it bloody. “Goddamn Sweetheart title. Why the Hell does fuckin’ second place have its own thing anyway?”

“‘Tis the season.” Aaron was laughing a little. Then Don remembered. And a big grin came to his face.

“How fast can you beat rush-hour traffic?”

A blank look crossed his features. “Pretty fast. Why?”

“Go get your ring and meet me by your car.” He ordered as he tugged a bit on the black t-shirt. “Get me home in fifteen minutes and you can hide out in my room ‘til it’s over.”

“O... Kay?” Raising an eyebrow at the look on his face, he took half a step back.

Until the redhead stepped closer, laid a hand on his chest and kissed his lips with white hot innocence. “We will do more of that later. I swear.”

Grinning wide he stepped away and let him trudge out into the parking lot.

As he jogged back inside he heard Don shout “I Fucking Hate Pageantry!”

But he was laughing as he said it.

---

We live in hope or dark desire

What can I say?

Fuck love, give me fire...

- Blaqk Audio: Cities of Night

---

Yes dears, that's the end. If you liked it, great. If not, sorry. I wish I could do better.

I would like to dedicate this to a few people. Amaretto, Kimagure, Jeoal, Marika, Bellheim, and all those wonderful reviewers who actually took the time to express their support for this story. I can't thank you enough, you know. Everything's all due to you. Can't believe it even came together.

I was so torn up about ending this thing. I asked myself, what will happen after? Will I be able to top this? Will I be able to write anything like this ever again? I guess this story is my baby now. I'm having separation anxiety.

To all those who ever read this and loved it, thank you. I can't thank you enough. I look forward to my next project and I hope you will too.

Here's To You, My Friends!

I'll Try Again