|A Tale of Two Men and a Cataclysm
Author: More Wolf PM
Selections from a journal I've held and written pieces in for the last eight months. Two men fall in love they think.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Mystery - Words: 829 - Published: 03-12-12 - id: 3004573
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Walking on [street name here] and he appears next to me. "I want to fall in love," he says. I turn, gasp for breath, but he doesn't give me time to speak. "Not just regular love like everyone else. I want a partner for life. Someone who breaths me."
My lips, chapped by the unrelenting city cold, manage to shoot words like rapid fire bullets. "Who are you?"
"My name si Alex." [sic]
His name is Alex.
Alex asked questions often. I learned that. While we sat in The Stubborn Hog - a local tavern frequented by few besides furious alcoholics, and men bounced out of their beds by their plentiful and yet cavernous wives at that - Alex asked me many things.
"What do you think of love, Charles?" He sipped at his glass, afraid of full swigs. I should've bought us something of higher class. I was just trying to be polite. Long blonde hair hangs over half of Alex's face, so much so that it almost spills into his drink. I could smell his aroma from where I was sitting - it wasn't some sort of fruit scent, but it was fresh. I could only say it smelled like maybe a soap. It didn't burn the nostril, and it was just shy of flowers sprouting from my nostrils. It was strong however. Between Alex and me sat one barstool, and I could still smell him.
The bar itself was uncomfortably shaped. It was split in halves of sorts by the shaping of the ceiling - where one half of the common room had a high and flat ceiling, the other half had a slanted one, which rode low and caused for a seated only area in the back. The bar itself was featured along the very end of the opposite side from that seated area, where the ceiling was relatively normal. Between the two was a small river of empty space, reserved for live acts and groups there to watch them.
"Well," I forget the odd shape of our resting place and commit to the question, with thought, "I think that in this day and age, we all settle a little. Nothing is like the stories."
The look Alex gave me then seemed to be the most gentle any being in existence had ever given, and though smothered, I could hear him trying to let escape, "Charlie..."
My name wasn't Charlie. He dind't know what to call me, though. I think. My name was Devin. Devin something. Devin what? I don't remember.
I did not, though, step back at his desperate look, or heavy eyes. I refused to be phased in even the least. With a straight, expressionless face, I asked, "Alex, are you gay?"
Silence, then. The rest of the bar was already quite dead. All it took was us. The fun didn't really ever start at a broken, odd drink house on a Tuesday. The air was filled with the sounds of moping husbands dreaming again young dreams with them and their spouses, from before the sagging and nagging began.
"Alex," I said with a start. I stopped myself, though, to see and hear him shiver. As he began, he nodded, trying best to look as far from me as he could. He hadn't the strength to say so, but I think I had known it already. Maybe even if he hadn't.
I finished my drink in one swig - whatever I had ordered, it burned - and stood from my seat. He was about to break into tears, I think, by the time I had just gotten to the door. He called for me though. "Wait," he said. "I...
"I don't know. I don't know really." Whatever strength he did have, he was expending here. As he pushed himself from his stool, Alex's legs did their best to refuse him the right to stand up straight. "Are you not okay with this, though?" He was asking me.
I turned back to the door. "What do you think of love, Alex?"
He sniffed. Wiped his face with his sleeve. He wasn't an ugly crier. Just a pathetic one. "I think, " he started, but stopped after that. I peeked over my shoulder at him. Wiping his tears, I could see. "I think love is indifferent to our genders, our peoples. We love who we will love."
"Is that all?" Looking at the door again. Palm touching the metallic handle. It wasn't as cold as I wanted it to be. "Do you think we can fall in love at first sight."
He was silent. Nothing to say. I turn the handle.
I hear him, I feel the wind. "Before you go. What's your name?"
I take steps outside. The streetlights aren't coming on. It's late. I hold my hat close to my head so th at th ewind doesn't steal it. "Charlie."