Origami Heart

Chapter #4

Reverse Halo

WARNING: this chapter contains homosexual sex (that means the ‘M’ rating has finally come into play). You’ve been warned.

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The next morning the sun was bright and had painted Noel’s room in the brilliant colours of dawn. Noel blinked sleep from his eyes and pulled the covers about himself tighter, still caught up in the fantasies that had put him to sleep in the first place.

He would meet that pretty stranger that evening. He mulled over the possibilities of his name, wondered if he was everything Noel imagined him to be. Maybe he was less… Noel was not oblivious to his lack of touch with reality. Not entirely. But dreamers avoid reality checks mostly, and Noel was no exception.

Donning his chenille bathrobe, he went about the routines of early mornings, taking a shower and preparing strawberry pancakes with sunny-side eggs. He was feeling luxurious that morning, and he was delaying the nervous panic, which would inevitably ensue later, with comfort foods. He went to the window seat with a glass of orange juice and his plate of treats, sitting beside the album, still there from the day before. He was being extra precautious not to spill syrup on the parchment, licking a strawberry smudge from his lips and turning the pages with his pinky. When his breakfast was finished, he retrieved his camera from the pocket of his wool coat and started documenting each page. He was sure to get the focus just right, so that he could go through this any time he wanted. It was charming, and so personal. Perhaps that’s why he liked it so much… It was a touch of the life and spirit from a person he dared not hope he’d ever get to know.

He only stopped snapping photos when the camera ran out of film. He sipped his orange juice and considered running out to the pawn shop three blocks from his flat – the only place that still sold instant Polaroid film. He ran the risk of missing the stranger’s arrival, but then, he’d said he’d be there in the evening, hadn’t he? Deciding he’d risk it, Noel slipped on a pair of trainers and rushed out anyway, wallet in hand.

He’d only gotten two blocks when a funny looking bloke in a golf shirt, aviators and a decidedly fake-looking handlebar moustache bumped Noel rather hard on the way. After he’d passed, Noel took two steps and realized his wallet had been nicked.

On any normal day, any other day, Noel would have called his bank and credit card companies to lock the accounts and possibly bought a new wallet when all was fixed. He wouldn’t have worried; he could borrow money from Jadyn if he really needed to.

But that would have been any other day.

Noel didn’t call after the man; he just gave chase down the sidewalk. The thief took one look over his shoulder and broke into a sprint, racing down a side-street and down a flight of stairs. Noel found himself tearing after his pickpocket along the ravine of the St. Catherine’s canal, under the bridge; they had to be past Lancaster Dr. now. Noel didn’t give up, following up the next flight of stairs, emerging in a vaguely familiar part of town. Around the corner (Yep, we’re on Bloor now) and past two more blocks, the thief threw himself over the rails to a subway entrance, vanishing into the unlit passages. Noel didn’t have time to puzzle over the likelihood of revisiting the abandoned routes for the second time in the week; he was determined to get his wallet back.

He could hear the distinctive slap of dirty sneakers on the concrete and continued to follow, nearly tripping over the man in the dark as he stopped abruptly, bent on his knees.

“Alright,” Noel panted, completely winded and thrown for a loop that the stranger should stop now. “Give it back, you can’t get much farther and I’m not going to stop chasing you ‘til you give it here.” The man looked up, and even in this light it became clear that it was no man. The moustache had been fake, Noel could have told from a far off glance… But the eyes, now revealed as the aviators slid off his nose, were too young to be a man’s.

They were two young to be a teenager’s.

The skinny kid shed his disguise like a mask in the dark, pulling many things from the rucky he’d slung over his shoulder during their run, including Noel’s wallet. There were other things, too. Jewellery mostly. The largest a pink handbag. Noel retrieved the wallet and pocketed it on the inside of his jacket.

He almost felt guilty for chasing the boy down. He could hear mutters around him, the voices of other homeless people as they moved in their sleep or spoke to their neighbour. It was like an entire world that just went unnoticed, and Noel felt like he was robbing a civilian child of the right to eat.

“Look, I’m sorry I chased you all that way. If you want I can come back with some food or-“ he didn’t have time to finish, the boy snatched up the rest of his loot and leapt down off the platform and onto the subway rails, vanishing into the deep tunnels like a strange dream. Noel watched him go, growing increasingly aware of the eyes on his back. He started back to the stairs at an uneasy pace, breaking into a jog as he neared the exit. He’d never felt this degree of fear in public places – and it wasn’t the dark either. He’d walked home in the dark many times; this part of town just wasn’t that dangerous. It had been practically crime-free until a week ago, when the murders first started.

He found his way back easy enough – the canal was still within sight when he emerged from the subway – and he thought he’d have time to get that film before going back home to wait.

His stomach churned. To wait. To wait for him. For the majority of the day, he hadn’t the time to think on the pale boy or grow anxious. Now his insides, as though contained in a glass jar, had been dashed open and were spreading disquiet like an infectious disease through his body.

The pawn shop was cluttered and busy, with barely any room for perusing. Noel was used to manoeuvring through the stacks of old records and antiques to ask for the film held behind the counter. He paid for it with shaking hands and jogged the rest of the way home.

The bakery felt empty as he passed the counter to access the stairs up to his flat. He could hear Julien puttering about the back and whistling to occupy himself, but it still felt empty. Noel took the stairs two at a time, stamping his feet on the rug outside his door. He opened the door – he never locked it – and pushed on through.

The pale boy was standing near the window seat, staring at the corkboard. He’d let himself in, and Noel was too stunned by what he saw to register the invasion of privacy. The boy turned to look at Noel, shadow cast long by the setting sun, glowing like a halo in reverse. At first, he didn’t say anything, just walked closer to Noel. Noel dropped the bag he’d been carrying, trying to read the expression on the stranger’s face and failing. He wasn’t sure if his eyes were meant to convey confusion or intimidation, but Noel felt both.

The pale boy went to leave through the door, saying something under his breath along the lines of, ‘door was open.’ Noel stopped him with a hand clutched tight in the lapels of his coat, meeting those charcoal eyes with curiosity and something like worship. He pushed the door closed behind him with his toe, twisting his lip in his teeth, trying and failing to find words. He realized that speaking would just break the spell.

The boy opened his mouth but Noel hushed him with two fingers to his lips, pushing him back from the doorway by his lapels. He stared at the stranger’s chest, noticing a name stitched into the inside of the coat collar. Damien. Noel was steadily losing his nerve, but he thought about the album and the polaroids and suddenly this wasn’t so hard.

Noel pressed his mouth to the hollow of the boy’s throat, prolonging the contact just so and dragging himself away to gauge the other boy’s reaction. The boy (Damien, he reminded himself) was rigid under his touch, a statue, but his eyes openly searched Noel’s soul. Or that’s how it felt. He was slow to return the gesture, bending to place a kiss in the same place. Noel felt a gasp ghost past his lips as fire raced liked heroin from the place where the stranger’s mouth grazed. When he pulled away it was only a fraction, his long fringe dancing in Noel’s eyes.

Noel knew from that dangerous look, from the rogue manner in which he pushed Noel’s coat from his shoulders to pool on the floor, from the hot slide of their mouths as they finally met, that he’d wake up in an empty bed.

And he didn’t care.

Noel pushed the fedora unceremoniously from Damien’s head as he went to pull their mouths together, tongues clashing wetly as Damien’s highly-dexterous fingers pulled Noel’s belt from its loops. There was a clatter as it hit the floor, soon followed by the rustle of jeans. Noel broke the kiss to manoeuvre buttons from their holes and throw his companion’s coat to the hard-wood, stepping on his own socks to pull them off. His breathing snagged audibly as Damien’s hands splayed like branding irons against his belly, sliding up to pull his t-shirt with them. Noel couldn’t be sure why, but he’d expected the boy’s touch to be cold…

When Noel’s back hit the mattress, he was naked, and so was the body that soon lay flush against his own, intoxicating. Damien smelled like soap and musk and faint tobacco. The friction of their bodies grinding was like the heat of sandpaper rubbed raw. Noel gripped the other boy’s triceps, breaking their prolonged kiss to arch his neck and purr.

The air was suddenly stark and cold from lack of contact, and he opened his eyes to see Damien rummaging in his bedside drawer. Noel reached over to open the second drawer down, handing him the bottle of lubrication and hooking his ankles around the kneeling boy’s thighs. Damien seemed to consider the willing frame before him, eyes lingering on the erection pressed desperate against the other boy’s taught belly. Noel’s mewl, feral with want, resounded like lust as Damien crushed their bodies together again, almost bruising. Their sweat-slicked bodies twisted and jerked, both shafts pressed firmly together between. Noel felt his hips recoil as a slippery finger pressed against his tight opening, willing him to relax. He only tensed further as another digit was added; the feel of those muscles contracting so narrow around his fingers turning Damien’s insides to steaming liquid. Noel knew Julien could probably hear his muffled whines as Damien’s mouth devoured his own, hips grinding wilfully together. The tension in Noel’s stomach tripled, and he nearly lost control as a third finger raked a secret place in him.

He thought he’d begged, but he couldn’t be sure. Noel couldn’t hear himself anymore, though he was aware that he was panting hard and making noises that he wouldn’t have thought himself capable of. Damien’s fingers had worked him into a state of unresolved frustration, the muscles in his belly rippling under the pressure of his ecstasy.

Noel bent compliantly as Damien lifted his legs to hook over his shoulders, removing his fingers and positioning something much larger at Noel’s entrance. He writhed impatiently, hands toying with his own nipples to feed the ache. Damien grunted with the effort not to release from the sight, instead pushing forward steadily until he was enveloped to the hilt in tight, wet heat. Noel’s hands abandoned what they were doing to twine in the short hair at Damien’s nape, tugging gently, urging him on.

The movements were agonizingly slow at first, though steadily augmenting to a galloping pace. Damien rode the smaller boy to the brink, fingers leaving bruises where they gripped his hips. Noel heard a heady cry break the monotone of their erotic pants, and realized with a blush that it had been his. Damien made a primordial noise of domination, nipping sharply at Noel’s neck, seed expelled in a gush of potent sex, Noel’s climax following like a wave egged on by the undertow.

They collapsed, both of them, against the sheets. Noel let his head sink into the pillow, drowning in the sensation of sweat cooling on his skin and Damien’s foreign heartbeat thudding against his diaphragm.

“What’s your name?” he breathed. He hardly expected an answer, and he already knew…

“I don’t have one.” The voice was still dark and angelic at the same time.

“What should I call you, then…?”

“Whatever you like, I suppose.”

“Oh…” Noel paused, pretending to consider, though the stitching on the inside of his collar was burned into his memory and he’d already been whispering the name like a mantra in his head. “Damien, then.” No answer, just steady breaths, perhaps a muffled ‘mmm.’

Noel reminded himself that the boy would not be there in the morning. No one shares breakfast with a perfect stranger. Nevertheless, he stroked trembling fingers through Damien’s hair and went to sleep.

He woke up under the covers, and he was sure he’d fallen asleep on top of them. He blinked blearily into the red light cast by his curtains, looking around him. And despite all the reassurances, there was a knot of disappointment in his stomach at waking up alone.

He couldn’t regret it, though.

Noel went to the shower first, cleaning the essence of their deed from his body and, regretfully, their mixed scent. He prepared breakfast, as usual, toast with marmalade. He tried not to think about how he’d probably never see Damien again. Or how long it would take for his scent to erase itself from the sheets.

He, instead, sipped tea and ate his toast, focusing on the sated feeling he’d entertained before falling asleep the night before. He thought he would fold a few stars before work, maybe fix the ones he’d broken a few days ago. The flat was eerily calm, juxtaposed to the rushes of lust the night before. He could almost hear the steam rising from his mug of tea.

His internal tranquility was only broken when he caught sight of the black fedora, placed deliberately at the window seat where the scrapbook once had been.

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Author’s Note: Some of you might start beating me with blunt objects for this chapter; some of you might have liked it. All I have to say is this: if you’re confused about character motivations or anything else that occurred in this chapter, I suggest you read over the previous chapters and pay greater attention to detail. I’m not going to spell everything out, some things are just better left to interpretation. XP

Hope you liked it and review! Next chapter will be a little darker…