Draw Your Final Breath

by K.H. Ivywater

Begun on January 1, 2002, and completed on January 6, 2002.

Disclaimer: The title was taken from the Placebo song “Spite and Malice.”

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It was December, the house was cold, and Calvin's feet were freezing. While the low temperature numbed his feet, he wished it would numb the rest of him. Numb his mind, numb his thoughts. Numb his memories.

The loud voices drifted up from downstairs. He could hear glass shatter, a body hit the floor. His mother's, no doubt. His father yelled profane things, unfit for any child's ears no matter their age.

He tried to block out the noise, but it was a useless attempt. Surely those within a five-block radius could hear the argument, so how did he expect peace?

Calvin curled into a ball, tightly wrapping the blanket around himself. God, how he wished Nathan were there. What he wouldn't give for his boyfriend's arms to be around him.

He looked at the clock. It was after one a.m. on a Saturday morning. Nathan may be up, but it was doubtful. Besides, Calvin was grounded. Did he really want to risk being caught?

Downstairs, his mother screamed. Something smacked against the wall.

Calvin grabbed his coat.

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It hadn't yet snowed, and he was thankful for that as he climbed out his window and down the roof. He dropped onto the driveway, the sound of his shoes to the pavement echoing briefly, and then all was still. As he trudged down the street, his parent's voice followed him dimly, and then disappeared altogether once he reached the end of the block.

The wind blew harshly, forcing a chill to settle over his body. Calvin shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, his teeth chattering. There were no street lights, but the waxing moon provided plenty of illumination.

After five more minutes of walking, Calvin stopped in front of a familiar house. No lights were on, and he mentally winced, wondering if he should turn back.

Suddenly there were sirens in the distance. Calvin ran to the tree that towered above the Conley residence, quickly scaling it to the branch that extended towards Nathan's room. He looked inside the window, but could see only blackness.

Gently, he tapped against the glass. After a few moments, something stirred. Nathan's face appeared, and then the window slid open. Calvin slipped inside, grabbing his boyfriend's outstretched hand so as not to stumble. He found his footing and then the hand left, closing the window and shutting out the cold air. There was shuffling as Nathan made his way across the room, and then the bedside lamp flickered on.

Mismatched eyes met Calvin's, one green and one blue. The owner of those eyes pursed his lips in worry, returning to Calvin's side.

"You'll catch your death out there, love," Nathan said, and Calvin smiled at the familiar British accent.

"It would be worth it to see you," he replied, removing his coat and draping it over the back of a chair. He faced Nathan again, and they both simply stood in there, looking at one another. All was silent, save for the sirens outside. They were getting closer, far too close. Calvin knew where they were going. He was surprised that they even bothered anymore.

Nathan glanced out the window, and then back to his lover. "Come to bed, Cal," he whispered, inclining his head towards the silk sheets. Calvin accepted the invitation and kicked off his shoes before crawling in next to Nathan, who had turned the light off. He laid down on his left side, Nathan spooning himself against his back. Tears slipped down Calvin's cheeks as he listened to the piercing noises outside.

"I'm sorry for waking you," he said at last. "I - I just don't have anywhere else to go. God, how many nights have I found my way here? Thank you for putting up with me...I know it's getting old. I'm so sorry..."

"Cal, you don't have to be sorry," Nathan said quietly into his ear. "I want you to come to me. I'm glad that you come to me. It's not a chore to hold you, darling." He nuzzled Calvin's light blond hair, and Calvin smiled, closing his eyes.

"Thank you," he murmured, and felt Nathan's lips toy with the silver hoop that ran through his ear.

"Love you," said Nathan, placing a kiss to Calvin's neck and then resting his head against the pillow. Calvin settled his hand on the arm circling his waist, squeezing gently.

Outside, the sirens stopped. They were at his house now. He could picture the officers jogging up to the door, his mother crying in the corner of the room as they arrested her husband. Those images haunted his dreams at night, and were made real more times than he cared to count.

But then the sirens started again, causing Calvin to jump. That was not in the script; it was a new scene added to the already traumatizing play. They drew closer to Nathan's home, and Calvin began to sob. The warm body next to his whispered reassuring words, kissing him and tightening the embrace.

Glass broke downstairs. The hairs on Calvin's arms stood on end, and he lay there completely still, petrified. The two boys stared at the door for a few moments, and then Nathan stood. Calvin whimpered slightly as Nathan walked cautiously across the room, towards the closed door. Suddenly feet were pounding up the stairs, and Nathan ran the last few steps to the door, locking it tightly. He turned back towards Calvin.

"Get out!" he hissed. "Out the window, and run!"

Calvin stumbled out of the bed, tangled up in the sheets. He found his balance, and then ran towards the window. The pounding footsteps were in the hallway now. He froze abruptly, hands on the windowsill.

"Cal!" Nathan said angrily, gesturing for him to go. But it was too late. The doorknob jiggled, and his father cursed, finding it locked. A moment later the lock was broken, the man's foot kicking in the door.

"Goddamn it, you little faggot!" Calvin's father screamed, an accusing finger pointed towards his son. "What the fuck are you doing here? You have a death wish?" The man stumbled towards Calvin, but Nathan moved between them, his jaw set.

"Nathan, don't, please, don't, no, Nate..." The words left Calvin's lips and he repeated them over and over, but his boyfriend ignored him. He stared, unintimidated, at Calvin's father. The older man glared at the boy, menace in his eyes.

"Get out of my way, faggot. Go fuck somebody else up the ass." He moved to walk past Nathan, but Nathan blocked him again. "Oh, British boy wanna die too? Makes no fucking difference to me."

The next few moments went by in slow motion for Calvin. He saw his father pull out the gun, the black pistol glinting in the moonlight flooding in through the window. He pointed the deadly weapon at Nathan, and Calvin felt himself running, running...

He almost didn't feel the bullet tear through his body, but Nathan's scream told him that it had. God, where had it hit? All he knew was that there was blood staining his clothes, covering his hands, dripping to the floor. He moaned, knees giving out and gravity taking its toll. Arms caught him before he could hit the ground, and he opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) to see tears falling down Nathan's face.

Another gunshot sounded, and Calvin expected his lover's body to collapse upon his. Instead, he saw Nathan's face blanch, the boy's hands rising to cover his mouth as if he were going to be sick.

"Cal..." he cried, and Calvin wanted to comfort him, to tell him it was alright, but his lips wouldn't form the words. He could feel his consciousness ebbing, and then everything was dark.

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The End