How Nathan was Obliged to Leave Ezra Cunégonde

In Boston Nathan and Ezra stayed in a hotel in the North End which Ezra managed to procure from a sweet, flatterable hostess, from whom he also borrowed a road atlas. In their cramped, dark room Ezra and Nathan sat very close and flipped through the fat red book, and Ezra’s warm breath on Nathan’s neck was almost more than Nathan could bear, but Ezra said when Nathan had mentally and physically prepared himself to tackle Ezra to the mattress, “We can’t stay here very long, because soon they’ll’ve figured out we’ve gone and somehow figure out Boston. They’ve got smart people and eyes everywhere.” Nathan said, “Where’re you thinking?” Ezra’s slender nail-bitten finger touched upon Denver Colorado. “I don’t mind cold,” he said, then as if realizing an opportunity he moved closer to Nathan and said, “We’ve got ways to keep warm.”

Thusly Nathan did what he had prepared himself for earlier.

For dinner both boys, still flushed and with tentative husky voices, went out to a bar down the street from the hotel. This would have been okay on any other night, but the Red Sox were playing and as we said if there ever were two unlucky people they were hapless Nathan and beautiful Ezra. When they walked in and sat down and ordered beers and hamburgers they unknowingly walked into the epicenter of power of Boston’s reigning drug lord, a man of about 30 who descended from Spanish stock and called himself Don Fernando. And Nathan and Ezra drew his attention to their corner table when Ezra slurped Samuel Adams Dark Lager and the white froth of it frosted his upper lip, and he laughed. Don Fernando was not gay, but he wasn’t straight either, and so upon glancing into the corner and laying eyes upon redheaded lovely Ezra he felt the desire he felt around most attractive people of whatever sex. The Don was a great lover of people, especially people he could feasibly have sex with. Thusly, he walked over to where beautiful Ezra sat making eyes at only slightly good-looking Nathan, and he said, “Hi.”

We should go into here the sheer naïveté that Ezra possessed as well. He was beautiful, yes, and only recently had he encountered people who used his beauty against him, and he believed that these people had done what they did only because they were great enemies of his father. He had never lived the kind of life where he had to be careful, and he had never really known people who would use him. Perhaps Ezra thought quicker and better and more sensically than Nathan, because he had begun to lose faith in the best of all possible worlds, but he still wanted to believe in the harmlessness of all people. So he said to Don Fernando, “Hello.”

And the Don was awed as Nathan had once been by the depth and the warmth of that voice, its narrow inflection, and now that he was closer he made out in the gloom the sharpness and definition of Ezra’s face. He said, “I’m Don Fernando. May I ask your names?”

“Nathan Candide,” said Nathan, and Ezra said, “Ezra Cunégonde.” Upon hearing this the Don’s stomach jumped. Here in this seat was a young man good for leverage among other things – unbeknownst to most people in the drug underworld, Don Fernando kept close tabs with Jonah Bulgar, and had heard of the carnage wreaked earlier that morning in Washington Heights.

The Don smiled and said, “Ezra Cunégonde, you don’t even know the kind of trouble you’re in.” He noted how dread transformed Ezra’s face into something vulnerable and terrifyingly beautiful. “I heard about the great spillage of blood from your father’s rival, and he said if I found you to kill the one you were with and send you right back to New York.” Ezra was terrifyingly pale. He looked across the table at Nathan, who was terrifyingly pale. But the Don said, “I’m willing to tell Mr. Jonah Bulgar that I didn’t see either of you, and I’m willing to let Mr. Candide go free, if you would stay with me, Ezra.” One of his eyebrows brushed his dark curled bangs. Ezra looked at Nathan with what was probably the most heartbreaking face ever made by anyone.

“Sleep on it,” said the Don. “You’re at the Ritter, I know. You try to leave…” He looked at Nathan and made the motion of slitting a throat.

In the hotel room Ezra was pacing frantically. “There has to be some way,” he said haltingly. “There has to be.” Nathan was sitting head-in-hands on the bed and he said, “There isn’t a way. One lord knows, they probably all do. Even if we do manage to get away, someone’ll recognize one or both of us.”

Ezra sat beside Nathan and was silent for a while, and after a long moment he said, “I’m going to have to stay.” Nathan nodded. “He won’t turn you in to Bulgar, and he’ll keep you safe from those cult guys.” Ezra said softly, “He won’t hurt you, as well.”

“That’s just an added bonus,” said Nathan. “I’m going to come back for you, I swear to God. I will come back and I will take you with me and – I swear Ezra, on my mother’s grave and your father’s grave, I don’t know how but I sill come back and get you back, and I will love you forever.”

At this Ezra began to weep. He was shaking and his eyes filled with liquid and he leaned into Nathan and Nathan held Ezra to him, and eased fingers over and around the notches of his spine, and then gently he pulled Ezra’s face and lips to his. And then he said, “I love you more than I love anything and I’ve felt that way for as long as I can remember and I won’t be able to live without you for very long.” Choking on tears Ezra said, “Okay. Okay.”

This escalated.

As a third party it is awkward for me to describe this, but I find it necessary for the artistic merit of the story, and you are all just reading this for the sex anyway, and you are probably very upset with me for not describing this whole thing in excruciating detail. THEY’RE HOT FOR EACH OTHER. Imagine it yourself based on that fact and the others I have detailed. I’m just going to skim over the bare minimum here because I’m kind of uncomfortable.

The first time Nathan and Ezra made love happened in chapter eight and because they were both so shaky and inexpert and so overcome with the feeling of seeing each other again the whole ordeal was this dizzy clumsy thing. And the second time occurred earlier in this chapter, and that was messy and ridiculous. And the third, oh, the third occurred also in this chapter, and due to the space/time continuum transcendence of fiction it is happening now in some far-removed dimension. But this is probably the way you, reader, would make love if you knew it was going to be the last time. Imagine it yourself based on that fact.

The fourth would not happen for quite some time.

that last sentence should explain itself. i'm sorry.
zomg i can't stop listening to kanye and the soof. it's so fucking good. i haven't loved a mashup this much since "the ghostface of you lingers." H00D INT3RN3T FTW