Last night I had a dream. I dreamt I was walking through the city streets before dawn. All the colour had been worn out of the buildings, and the dead street lamps barely lit the road. There were no stars in the sky, seemed like there wasn't even a sky, just buildings, faded into nothing.

I don't know where I was going, or why I was going there, I was back to that day, the day I ran away, cold, unsure, scared… Rushing, but I didn't know where. I just knew I had to get there.

Trembling, no, wait, the ground was shaking, rumbling, and getting worse, my legs gave out beneath me, and I watched from the earth as the city collapsed, as the skyscrapers fell into rubble, as the windows smashed and lamp posts shattered, and the road coiled and ruptured.

I looked around this dystopia, this world, no structure, no sky, no life, not a single structure, a world of despair. I was so busy looking at the destruction, the rubbish heap I sat on, that I didn't notice him approach, not until he was stood next to me. Not until I felt his warmth, his heart and his company beside me. I felt my eyes drifting from the scene to him… When the sun broke over the horizon, filling the sky with streaks of orange and purple and green. It almost looked like the landscape was covered with grass… And flowers… And trees… The road was suddenly clear, life grew from the destruction, and I felt something in my heart. As colour filled my world and I climbed to my feet, I opened my eyes.

I knew one thing, and one thing only. As the details of my dream faded away, I knew I was no longer alone.

It wasn't hard to find where George was living. He left me with a business card after all, and when you've lived in a town all your life, it's not too hard to know where the streets are.

He kept the spare key in the same place, under the same plant pot. He must have known I would come one day. As I approached the back door, my mind was racing, my heart was pounding; What would I say? How would I greet him? ...Would he hold it against me; that I didn't go with him?

The first thing that hit me as I trespassed into that house, was the sound of the television. I found my way to the living room, set out in the same fashion. He must be autistic. There on the sofa was the pile of quilt, and on the table, the remote was waiting for me, and before I knew it I stood between the sofa and the television, remote in my hand.

"I was watching that."

"No you weren't." I didn't turn round, I felt like I'd well up. I heard him moving, felt his hands wrap around my waist. He grabbed me tightly and pulled me down beneath him on the sofa.

"You made me wait, so… You owe me an apology."

"I'm sor-" He crushed his lips against mine. I stared up at him, unable to think as inside my heart, the sun broke and once again filled the land with colour.

"So? Was I right?"

I put my arms around him, and pulled him close. I didn't want him to see my face.

"What I was running away from... Wasn't as bad as running away."

"That was the answer I was hoping for."

"But I don't regret doing it... It lead me to you."

"...That was the answer I was hoping for. … Now ...I want you to finish your sentence." I wasn't sure what he was talking about. "At the train station, you said 'I think'..."

I felt my entire body heat up. My skin was burning. I said the only think I could think of.

"I...I don't remember!"

He looked at me and raised an eyebrow. I looked away. It was an obvious, cringe worthy lie.

"Well, let me finish that sentence for you." He leaned closer, I could feel his breath on my ear, and it resonated through out my body. "Timmy, I think I love you."

Somewhere inside I felt fireworks exploding. He ran his hand up my thigh, leaning back so he could look in my eyes, he unbuckled my trousers. I knew what he was asking, silently with out words, he was asking me if this was ok. He was asking for my approval. I looked into those deep brown eyes, and I felt my soul lifting. Finally he could wait no longer, and broke the silence.

"Is this what you want?"

"No." I smiled. "I want to have sex."

He grinned, and leant forwards until I lost focus and had to close me eyes. I felt his hot breath on my face, his lips barely brushing mine.

"You're trouble." His lips brushed mine again, but his attention was else where, as my trousers slipped down to my knees.

Even though I'd been exposed to people before, it never felt like this. I wanted to be closer. I wanted him beside me forever.

"Do I turn you on?" It was obvious, I was already half hard knowing what was coming.

"Do I turn you on?" Although he'd asked first, he also answered first. He pushed himself down against my leg, and it took me a second to register his hard on between his trousers.

"Does this answer your question?"

"Then it answers your too. Don't be pedantic."

He kissed me roughly, as a shudder shot down my spine and rested, painfully slowly in my nether regions. I felt something warm against my cock, I knew what it was, but the shock made me look. His hand wrapped around us both, as he began to pump.

I gasped for air, and bucked against him, calling his name as I climaxed. But even I was expected what came out of my mouth next.

"George, I want you to meet my family."

He jumped back and looked down at me in shock.

"Can I hit them?"



"Hello? Any body home?" I was hoping they'd be a voice call back 'no', but my luck seemed to have run out. Roe was the first one to greet me.


"Roe this is George." I stepped out of the way, dodging a hug, which may have seemed wholly inappropriate to George.

"Who?" Roe looked at George, George looked at Roe.

"I'm Timmy's lover." The air turned to ice, and seemed to crack with every breath I took.

"Nice to meet you." Meths was stood in the hall way behind my brother. "Do come in." It was an obvious snide remark, as my brother stood, frozen, blocking the entrance. "Roe, show Timmy's lover to the lounge, we'll get some tea."

I shared a forlorn glance with George as I followed the master of destruction to the kitchen. He was grinning as he closed the door behind me.

"He seems nice." Meths smirked, putting the kettle on. "Maybe I'll tell him all the dirty things we've done together."

"Maybe I'll tell the same things to Roe." It was just an automatic response. They were only words, but Meths stopped what he was doing and looked at me. He looked at my like he never had before, like I was a stranger, a new person, who he didn't know, who he couldn't judge. And the words just came. "Like it or not Meths, you helped raise me. As much as I take after Roe, I also take after you."

His mouth dropped open, then it dawned on him, and for the first time in my life, I saw something in his eyes. Something I never thought I'd see. Fear.

"I should reassure my brother, I should tell him what he did wasn't so bad, I mean, you've done worse."

I walked out of the kitchen, unable to think coherently. Of course I'd never tell. But I'd never tell Meths that.

Tea was brutal. Roe didn't speak, he was in shock. For once, neither did Meths. He was in shock too. After about half an hour of this, I declared in bed time, and ripped George from the room.

My escape seemed to have failed however, as although he had not managed to say anything, Roe made his feelings perfectly clear, in following my to my room, and sitting down on my bed with his arms crossed.

Roe on one side, George on the other. A stale mate was reached.

"He's not sleeping in your room." Roe said at last.

"I promise to do nothing more than you did." George replied tartly. Roe gasped, he looked at me, fear and shame in his expressions.

Unfortunately, although I don't hold it against my brother, I don't sympathise with him either. I was completely on George's side. "Can't argue with that."

But he could. Roe, acting like a spoilt child, folded his arms, and readjusted his seat on the end of my bed.

I got up and walked to the bedroom door.

"Meths!" A door down the hall opened. "Come and get Roe."

"Why should I?" Meths gave me a knowing look, and I smiled back sweetly.

"If you don't, I'll let him join in."

I don't know if he believed me or not, but he carried my bother out of the room, kicking and screaming over his shoulder. I locked the door quickly behind them.

George watched me turn of the light and get into bed, before he put his arm around me and pulled me close.

"Can you really forgive them?" Even though it was dark, I could make out the outline of his face, inches from mine.

"I've already had my revenge." I smiled, snuggling closer.

"What did you do?"

"I set them up together."

George laughed.

"And I'm grateful, if I hadn't run away..."

"Me too. But I feel guilty for being this happy." I knew what he meant, although he was happy, and we were together... "I'm sorry you had to go through any of that... And, I'm sorry I left you at the station. I thought you'd follow me onto the train, I though-"

"-I did, I'm here right?"

He smiled, and stroked the side of my face. "The first time I asked you to come home, I thought you would, with me, but then I saw you're face, and I knew... I knew that terror in your eyes wasn't something that could just be erased. I thought if we went to my parents, I could convince you to go home, but every day, you drifted further from me, and every day, I fell in love with you more. I knew if we stayed any longer, I would never be able to leave you. But I fell like... You're heart has been closed. You've been wounded, and you were scared it would happen again. And I knew that if I wanted to have you, all of you, I needed to get you to face this. But the more time went on, the more I fell for you, and I knew it'd just get harder and harder to watch you cry... I got so scared that you wouldn't come. I knew you were crying, but I had to get you back here."

I understood. I understood what he meant, and I understood what I had to do.

When you run away from something, it disappears for a moment, then... It follows you. No, more like, it's already part of you. Trying to run away from it is like trying to run away from an arm or leg. And the harder to run, the faster it seems to be following you. And you run faster, and become more frantic, and eventually, you have to stop. You have to say, it's scary, but I can't go on like this! It's not until you face it straight on, that you realise, life goes on. Given a chance these wounds will heal.

"I think... I love you."


The End


Author: Awe. But in the original ending they all die.