comments: I was inspired. And… if there are any spelling errors that escaped my scrutiny, please forgive me, my typing skills aren't that great right now because I jammed (and severely bruised up) my right ring finger during football practice.
Warning: homosexual themes, angst like mad, and foul language
Claimer: This is an ORIGINAL story, written by me, the owner of the site Dreams of a Dead Dreamer, under the pen name of Deadxdreamer. If you wish to post, archive, or reproduce any portion of this story, then please, contact me and obtain permission first. Thank you.
:: Will ::
"Hey lovely, I'm at the airport already."
"Oh geez, I'm stuck in traffic. I was hoping your flight would be delayed cause of the rain. There's this bad accident up ahead and the traffic's horrible."
"Don't sweat it love, I'll just wait."
"But I don't want you to have to stand there in the cold."
"*chuckle* I don't have to stand outside for you. How long do you think you'll take anyway?"
"Give me fifteen minutes, thirty at the most."
"Will do. I'm glad I'm back home."
"I love you so much."
"Love you too. I'll see you in a bit sweetie."
"I'll be waiting."
December 1st, 1998
It was a sunny day, just on the verge of turning into autumn in California; one of the warm days of a lingering Indian summer. There's a stretch of nude beach in San Francisco called the Devil's Slide that I like to frequent.
I actually went there to swim.
It's nicer at these beaches because it's privately owned or leased so it's cleaner and less frequented so there's the small price of nudity that I don't mind for a better beach. We met when I went past the breakwater and was going on to my third hundred meter stretch when I realized I wasn't alone out there for once. I saw you watching me as you swam, grinning the whole time, taking slow, lazy strokes to match my competitively fierce ones. I was completely baffled so I just kept swimming.
I waited for you a thousand yards out, you weren't too far behind me, taking the same, slow, lazy strokes to get to where I was treading water.
"You have a nice form."
I merely looked at you wondering if that compliment was the only reason why you had followed me all the way out there, past the breakwater.
"Thanks," I reply lamely, ready to start the long swim back, silently wondering why I had stopped and waited for you.
"Of course, I wouldn't really know why you wouldn't."
I stopped myself and looked into your laughing blue eyes, the darkness of them reflecting the deep ocean water that surrounded us.
"What do you mean?"
"I've seen you swim."
There would be a number of places he could have seen me swim. At the Berkeley pool, at a swim meet, here. You swam a little closer, circling once, and stopping to face me, treading water like a pro.
"You're William Core, the top swimmer at Cal, right?"
"Do you go there?"
You shrugged and paddled a bit closer. We were inches apart, just treading water in the middle of the ocean.
"Do you know who I am?"
I shake my head and watch you watching my lips. Your blue eyes flick up to hold mine for a second before leaning your handsome face a bit closer to mine.
"We've competed before."
To tell you the truth, you still didn't ring a bell. All I could think of was how much I wanted to kiss those full lips hovering just in front of mine and how much this handsome stranger wanted it as much as I wanted it.
We lay together in the tangle of my sheets, listening to the sounds of the ocean crashing on the beach below the cliff of my house. The breeze stirred the gauzy curtains that frame the open French doors that lead out to the balcony. The breeze slides over our bare skin, tickling us with its cold fingers. You'd fallen asleep, nestled against me, your soft brown hair tickling my jaw.
There's a moment in everyone's life when you realize that the person you're with is the person you want to be with for the rest of your life. That's how I felt about you all those years ago, after we made love like a pair of crazy animals, like we knew the other was THE ONE we were looking for our entire life.
Now I sit here, seven years later, at the same desk in the same posh house in San Francisco, now mine after my father's death, and watching the ocean outside the same window I had looked out with you in my arms that day we met all those years ago. Only this time, you're not with me anymore and I blame myself every day of the week, every hour and minute of my day. I was supposed to be there when you got home from the airport. If I had been… would you still have been killed?
I ask myself that almost as much as I incriminate and damn myself. If only I had left the house earlier, if only I didn't hang up the phone with you, if only… if only….
It's been seven years… and I still can't let you go.
end part 1
Things will start making sense. Don't worry.