A/N: I didn't finish this story either. It left off at a horrible cliff hanger, but I didn't have the time to notice. I had more than 50,000 words! I couldn't believe it! Of course, I left two pages of notes for one of them and deleted a couple of things from this version I put up on FictionPress, but it doesn't matter! I validated and won for my FIRST YEAR AT NANOWRIMO! I can't believe it. I still can't believe it. I mean, I won. A challenge. I never win challenges.

When I get to school again, I'm going to brag and flaunt all I want 'cause I wrote 50,000 words in a single month! YIPEE! I couldn't sleep; I was elated. It was difficult, but I pulled it off! Okay, I'm done.

This is the last chapter, but I can safely say I like it the best. I don't know why. Maybe because I put all my attention and care into it. Maybe because I really like my main character. Or maybe it's because it's the most realistic story I've ever written.

Maybe it's the Oolong tea. I really have no idea.

ONWARD, FAITHFUL READERS!

Part VI -- How to Live

Romance, who loves to nod and sing,

With drowsy head and folded wing,

Among the green leaves as they shake

Far down within some shadowy lake,

To me a painted paroquet

Hath been- a most familiar bird-

Taught me my alphabet to say-

To lisp my very earliest word

While in the wild wood I did lie,

A child- with a most knowing eye.

Of late, eternal Condor years

So shake the very Heaven on high

With tumult as they thunder by,

I have no time for idle cares

Through gazing on the unquiet sky.

And when an hour with calmer wings

Its down upon my spirit flings-

That little time with lyre and rhyme

To while away- forbidden things!

My heart would feel to be a crime

Unless it trembled with the strings.

--Romance by Edgar Allan Poe--

MC: Alexander Winter Alex for short

MC's ex-girlfriend: Cheryl Gray

MC2: Zeke Rookwood

Alexander Winter walked through the threshold of a small, heated café with a sigh of relief. The door swung shut behind him, blocking out the cold air. He took off his wet gloves, already feeling a slightly painfully prickling across his fingers. It was comforting, in a way. He wondered how long he had stood out in the snow. Minutes? Hours? He had no idea…

Alexander was a just barely a man, having just turned twenty a week ago. He had celebrated his birthday with his girlfriend of three long years, Cheryl Gray. But he couldn't think of that. No, he refused to think about that…. that… whore; the whore that had torn out Alexander's heart and brutally stomped on it with an oblivious grin.

Shaking his head, he walked to the nearest table and sat down (after sliding off his one strap bag from his shoulder), immediately leaning back in the seat. He closed his eyes, breathing in the soothing aroma of tea. Hillary's Café always had the best tea, according to him. It was an out of the way Café, though it was on Main Street. It as comfortably settled between Crafts and Borders, two stores he frequented very much. He shifted in his seat as he waited for the waiter to come over with an order he hadn't placed. As he came to Hillary's Café a lot, he was considered an informal regular. He always ordered the same; black tea and a small piece of apple pie. For some reason, he had never brought his girlfriend to this place. It had never even occurred to him. Alexander considered Hillary's Café his secret place, a place he could always count on.

In fact, that was why he was there. He needed comfort only his special brand of tea could give him. He usually just got black tea, but when he felt down, all he had to do was wave one of the two waiters down. They'd come to know that meant the second brand would be needed; to make the process easier, he had made it known that he enjoyed roasted oolong tea over light oolong tea. He was a special customer there. Alexander always kept a mental distance from the customers and the staff, unlike the regulars who came in with a friendly, chatty disposition. Sometimes, he brought a book from Borders to read while his tea was being made.

That was another awesome aspect of the Café he took pleasure in; they actually took the time to brew the tea instead of getting it out of a vending machine or something like that. It gave the tea somewhat of a real feel. Their tea was, in short, perfect. It was really a shame the Café wasn't exactly well known. To make up for it, Alexander always left a generous tip to help the Café out.

Alexander Winter was better than good looking. He was a little short for his age group, something that had always daunted him. He had shoulder blade length dark blond hair that he almost always kept in a low pony tail and eyes that were the most interesting mix of blue and green. Cheryl had once said they looked like an ocean. Alexander didn't exactly agree. Cheryl had also said he looked more 'beautiful' than 'handsome,' but he had pretty low self esteem, and doubted his looks a lot. Alexander had a lithe body, and his face looked almost elfin in its beauty. Strangers liked flirting with him for reasons he couldn't comprehend, but they never got very far into their advances before becoming intimidated. He had a naturally timid nature, but also held very strong beliefs. When it came to protecting something, he became insanely fierce.

As a result, he had a couple of very good friends, and could not be fooled easily.

He opened his eyes and leaned over to grab a book out of his bag. It was the novel Mercy by Jodi Picoult. He had received it for his birthday and was already halfway through it. It was very interesting, though not as long as he would have liked it to be. The beginning, though, was phenomenal. It jumped right in with the first line being, "In the moments before, she laid a hand on his arm. 'No matter what,' she said, giving him a look, 'you cannot stop.'" It was a very emotional novel, and it wasn't hard for him to get completely caught up in it.

He lost himself in reading, unaware of a pair of eyes on him almost the entire time. Some of his hair had somehow loosened from his hair tie, falling in front of his right eye. Without stopping, he tucked it behind his ear. Alexander gave a frustrated sigh when it fell back into his eye. He pulled out his hair tie after putting his plastic bookmark into the novel to keep his page. As he tugged it loose, it fell around his shoulders like a halo and, before he could put his hair back again, he felt a whisper near his ear, "Leave it." He jolted a little, oblivious that anyone had gotten so close. He turned a little and found himself lost in dark green eyes. He was too surprised to even think of backing away. Alexander put the hair tie down and, when he realized the position he was in, blushed to the tips of his ears.

He glanced back at the stranger; it was one of the waiters he had waved at. The man, who really couldn't have been much older than him, wore a standard uniform: black slacks and a formal, long sleeved, button down white top. He also had on a dark green apron with two pockets. Out of the corner of the left pocket, he saw a pad of paper sticking out, most likely to write down orders with. His blush lessened a little. The waiter had dark brown hair that fell to the nape of his neck, parting to the left side. As a result, part of his hair fell into his left eye. It didn't look like it bothered him in the slightest, though, so it must have been his style. Still, Alexander had to admit that the man was soft on the eyes. And if Alexander had one thing, it was his eye for beauty. It was, after all, how he had ended up with Cheryl.

He must have attained a stressed look in his eyes because the waiter carefully set down his Oolong tea and, instead of walking away like he probably should have, plopped down on the empty chair across for him. Alexander blinked at him, not knowing how to react. He had never really been encountered with such a situation before. "You're not waiting for anyone, right?" the waiter asked, though it sounded a lot more like a statement, propping his elbows on the table gracefully, clasping his hands, and setting his chin down on his entwined fingers. Alexander shook his head wordlessly. The stranger grinned beautifully. "You don't talk much, do you?" he asked, gazing at Alexander. The intent stare caused his cheeks to become warm again.

"Why… are you sitting with me?" Alexander inquired, tilting his head to the side. 'Cute,' ran through the stranger's mind. Instead of saying it, he said, "You look sad. I want to know why." It was a blunt statement and only served to brighten the blush already on Alexander's cheeks. "Why do you want to know?" he asked, almost guardedly. The stranger looked taken aback. "I… I don't know." The man regained his composure. "Maybe… I want to know what could cause you such sadness. I don't like the look in your eyes. I want to make it go away," he simply said, his eyes showing only sincerity. And Alexander found himself wanting to spill everything.

So, without thinking, that is what he did.

"My birthday was last week," he started. Then he paused, wondering what he should say next. "I invited my girlfriend of three years over, but she said she couldn't make it." His ocean-like eyes became stormy with bitterness. Alexander was unsure why he was telling a stranger this, but did not care. Something screamed at him to get it off his chest. "So, I celebrated it by myself." The waiter interrupted, "What about your friends or your parents?" He seemed genuinely concerned. "I mean, you don't look a day over seventeen!" Alexander was embarrassed; did he really look so young? "Actually, I'm twenty," he corrected, amused when the waiter became a little flustered. "No way," he denied, looking at Alexander more carefully. Alexander just continued, the moment of amusement over. He became numb again.

"My mother died giving birth to me, and my father was…" he paused, trying to find a less extreme word. "abusive." The waiter noticeably stiffened, sitting up a little straighter. "He drank a lot and, well… took it out on me. I've been to the hospital a couple of times for broken bones and stuff. He didn't mean to," he weakly tried to defend his father, worried by the dark, angry look in those beautiful viridian eyes. He hastily continued. "He went a little too far one time, but I was okay. Finally, one of my teachers filed for abuse and I was taken into an orphanage at the age of fifteen. I didn't think anyone would adopt me and… I didn't want to take the chance that it would end up like that again. When I finished school, I got a job as an editor for the town newspaper and moved in to an apartment." He was getting off track; really, what did he think he was doing, telling a complete stranger the story of his life?!

"I was seventeen when I met Cheryl, and I liked her from the beginning. When she asked for a date, I didn't think anything of it. We went to the movies and things went from there. For some reason," his blush came back as he thought over his next words. "She didn't seem to mind our…" he sighed. "Lack of sex in our relationship." The waiter looked amused. "I became a little suspicious because of this, though I never talked to her about it. Can you just imagine how that conversation would go?" The man he was talking to laughed softly, trying to stifle it behind his hand. Alexander mock glared at him.

"Think it's funny, do you?" he asked, causing the stranger to laugh harder. He rolled his eyes, forcing down a pang of hurt. He progressed. "When my twentieth birthday came around, I decided to spy on Cheryl." The waiter's eyes widened a little, and his laughing subsided. "Wow," he said, shocked. "I'm sorry, but you don't look like the type to do that."

"No need to apologize; I'm really not. Well, when five o'clock came around, I headed to her house, which wasn't too far from my apartment. I hid behind a bush in front of her front door, waiting for her to come out so I could track her." He laughed bitterly. "I didn't think she would invite a guy over to her house." Alexander closed his eyes, re-living the moment. "He showed up with a bouquet of roses and rang her doorbell. I tried to convince myself it wasn't what I thought, but…" He swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. "It was. She opened the door and… and he kissed her on the lips, and… she kissed back." His gaze was on the table and he took a sip of his Oolong tea to distract himself. By then it was lukewarm, but the bitter taste blocked out the painful memory.

"It hurt," he stated, setting the cup down after sipping it a few times. He felt calmer than before. "It hurt a lot." The waiter shifted, glancing at the clock in a way he probably hoped was unseen. Alexander saw, and his eyes widened. "I'm so, so sorry," he apologized, clenching the table in mortification. The waiter looked back at him, surprised. "I kept you from your job, didn't I? W-What if you're fired? Oh my god, it would be all my fault! I'm so sorry," he whispered the last three words, regret tearing at him. The waiter reached out a hand and patted Alexander's. The blond's head snapped back up at the movement, but the waiter didn't remove his hand. They stared at each other for a little more.

"What's your name?" the waiter asked, staring deeply into ocean-like eyes. "Alexander Winter," Alexander replied, startled at the question. "And yours?" "Zeke Rookwood. Mind if I call you Alex?" Alexander nodded, lowering his head bashfully. "You should get back to work," he said lowly. He heard the chair scraping, and knew the waiter had stood. "Thank you for listening," Alexander said softly. "I really do appreciate it." Zeke walked around the table, patting his shoulder. "Anytime, Alex. Anytime." He walked away and, smiling for the first time days, Alexander opened up his book again. Occasionally, he would take a bite of his apple pie or a sip of his Oolong tea, but the smile never dimmed.

Zeke continued to fondly watch Alex until he left the Café, but Alex felt the eyes on him the entire time. The pleasant after taste of the Oolong tea kicked in, reminding him of why he liked it in the cozy Café so much. He thought to himself, 'I should come here more often…'

Alexander, though he did not even think to tell Zeke, had long ago moved from his position as an editor. Now, at the relatively young age of twenty, he was a best selling author under the pen name, Axel. It was a not so clever anagram of his real name, Alex. It was a couple of days after his conversation with Zeke and he could not be happier. He now went to Hillary's Café even more, and the next day he went, he was incredibly and visibly glad that nothing bad had come out of Zeke taking an impromptu break in the middle of working.

They talked sometimes, but mostly kept their distance. Alex did not dare go as far as to call Zeke his friend. They knew practically nothing about each other! Well, that was a lie since Alex had basically told his entire life story to Zeke, but still!

Alexander walked the fairly short distance to Hillary's Café with a gentle smile resting on his lips. He knew Zeke would be there. Apparently, the manager noticed the way they found ways to talk to each other and, when Zeke's back was turned, gave Alexander a napkin where she had written Zeke's entire schedule and a couple other little notes. Alexander had quickly hid the napkin from Zeke's curious eyes with an innocent smile on his face and a thinly veiled wicked gleam in his eyes.

Now, he was walking back to the Café, a different book in his bag. It was a little colder than before, but the weather was very calm. A thin sheet of ice rested on parts of the sidewalk and road, so Alex took special care to avoid them. It was lightly snowing, and everyone in town was taking it to their advantage. A lot of people were seen shoveling their driveways and the surrounding sidewalks while young children played joyfully in the thick, packed snow. Couples were sitting on benches and chatting on street corners, but Alex did not let it bother him. For the last couple of days, he had not put up his hair because he knew how much Zeke enjoyed it down. He was very close to the Café when he spotted, out of the corner of his eye, his ex girlfriend, Cheryl, and her boyfriend; the man who had showed up at her door on the day of Alexander's birthday with a bouquet of roses. He remembered storming up to her door, his timid nature forgotten, and rudely announcing the end of their relationship with a slap to her face.

The couple, which Alexander suspected was in no way new, were making out on a bench near the park directly across from Borders. He stared at them blankly for a bit before reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a hair tie he had forgotten to remove. He slowly tied his hair back into a low pony tail with an air of resignation. Then he tore off across the street, his eyes blurred with tears. He was unaware of the honking of car horns and the screeching of brakes on the street. He was unaware of the angry shouting of the people in the cars that had stopped for him. He was unaware of the sneer on Cheryl's face as she stared contemptuously at her longtime ex boyfriend.

He pushed open the door of Hillary's Café and, with a frustrated sob, collapsed to his knees. His bag slid off his shoulder as he buried his face in his trembling hands. Hadn't he made Cheryl happy in the time they were together? Exactly how long had she been cheating on him? After their abrupt break up, he knew why she had hooked up with him. He was a promising author, and was sure to make a lot of money. She was only attracted to his money and looks! He even doubted the second one: "Put your hair up. You look like a girl when it's down. It's disgusting." She had said that on their first date! And, without a thought to whether or not he had wanted it, he had complied with her command.

His hunched form shook with sobs as he slowly rocked back and forth. He didn't register the shocked eyes taking in his pitiful state, lost in nostalgic memories. He did react when he felt warm arms wrapping around him. He instinctively knew it was Zeke, and he leaned into the warmth with a shaking sigh. Alex's hands instead roamed to clutch Zeke's dark green apron, his face burying into his neck. His shaking slowly subsided as Zeke whispered reassurances into his ear. Finally, he reluctantly pulled away and the customers in the Café looked away, resuming their conversations. Zeke stayed with him, though, gazing softly but intently into his eyes. Without waiting for the inevitable question, Alex answered, "I'm okay." Zeke looked doubtful, and suddenly noticed something he should have when Alex had stumbled in.

"Your hair," he whispered hoarsely. "It's up." Alex's eyes moved to the floor, his lips forming a silent apology. "Why?" He shook his head, but replied, "I remembered something I had forgotten. That I should have forgotten." He didn't notice when Zeke's eyes turned stern. He did notice when Zeke stood up and walked away. He slumped once more, already missing the closeness, longing for the warmth to return. Without it, he felt cold. Why did Zeke walk away like that? Did he… Alex's face twisted in despair. Did Zeke hate him now? All he did was put up his hair! It was the same thing Cheryl would have done, but this was with the issue of his hair being 'up' and not 'down.'

The ocean was frosted over, and the warmth of the sun was replaced by an unforgiving, cold moon, hanging overhead. It watched the ocean disapprovingly, but taking comfort in the ocean's inner pain and torment as the ice returned. Winter had made a comeback. But the ice would melt as the warmth of the sun returned, bringing about day and light.

Zeke had returned, and his working clothes were off, replaced with a pair of faded jeans and a black, form fitting sweatshirt. Leather boots were barely visible under the long jeans. Alex looked up in wonder, and the ice cracked. Zeke was holding a package, too. "I got the day off. You are going to lead me to your apartment, and we are going to have Oolong tea. After that, you may or may not tell me what is wrong." The ice melted, revealing a sparkling, deep blue ocean. "Zeke," Alex whispered, and Zeke looked down at him worriedly. "Thank you." The concern was replaced with an affectionate smile, and a medium sized hand reached out to help Alex up. Grabbing his bag, he grabbed the hand to be pulled up. Zeke released Alex's hand, but moved forward to hold the door open for his companion. When they had both exited, Zeke's hand didn't go for his hand again, but for his waist. Wrapping an arm around it, he reached forward with his other hand to carefully pull off the hair tie and throw it away as if it were a poisonous snake.

Alex smiled a little, but his eyes trailed across the street to see Cheryl and her boyfriend talking softly to each other. He forced his gaze away and hoped Zeke hadn't realized. From the tightening grip on his waist, however, it seemed he had. Alex's smile only grew as he leant in to the other man, closing his eyes gratefully.

As Zeke had said, Alex led him to his apartment and let Zeke into the kitchen. Zeke found everything he needed without much difficulty and kicked him out of the kitchen. Alex had stared at the door in complete shock before laughing lightly and going to sit on the couch in the living room. His living room was sparse, though he definitely had the money to get more furniture.

The walls were cream and the carpet was beige. A red, leather couch was positioned a couple of feet in front of a big screen TV and a similar chair was to the left of it. They were separated by a small but ornate wooden table with a lamp and a couple of pencils lying on a spiral bound notebook. In front of the couch, a light wooden coffee table rested. The walls were almost bare with the exclusion of a couple of paintings here and there and a few framed awards he had received throughout the years. There was a table in the corner of the room with a handful of trophies carefully placed.

The kitchen was incredibly similar. The walls were the same color as the wall, but it had a hardwood floor, unlike the living room. The counter tops were of a grey marble, and the refrigerator was a sleek black. There was an island in the center of the room, but the cabinets were almost bare. The food was stored in a mahogany pantry, placed next to the refrigerator and stove. On the counter was a blender that Alex almost never used, an electric can opener that Alex used far too much to be considered good for him, and a basket with a couple of fruits in it. The cabinets were above the counter, and only had a couple of cereals, a few odd canned foods, and a massive amount of ramen packets. There were a couple of bar stools situated at the island, and that eliminated the need for a table.

Overall, his apartment was artistically arranged.

"Alex," Zeke needlessly shouted to be heard from the kitchen. "Is this seriously what you live on? Ramen noodles and… canned spaghetti?!" Confused, Alex sent back an affirmative reply. Zeke's scream of frustration sort of worried him. "Do you even go shopping?!" Alex shifted uncomfortably on the couch, and his silence was more than enough to convince Zeke that, no, he didn't like shopping.

It only took a couple of minutes for the tea to be made, and soon enough Zeke and Alex were both seated at the couch drinking the Oolong tea from coffee cups lying in one of the numerous cupboards with a few glasses mixed here and there. "Geez," Zeke had complained when he sat down with the tea. "Do I have to do your shopping for you? We might as well move in together!" For some reason, Alex's heart sped up a bit at the playful statement. It… really wasn't such a bad idea, but he was too shy to ask. It would have been awkward for the both of them, he thought to himself.

"I figured out what happened," Zeke softly said after a few minutes of content silence. "But what I really want to know is… why did you put up your hair like that? You usually come to the Café with it down." Alex sighed, gazing at his bluish green tea and watching his reflection ripple. He looked away, disgusted with himself. "On our first date, she said she didn't like it when I had my hair down. Said it makes me look like a girl. She said," he licked his suddenly dry lips. "She said… that it was disgusting." Zeke gasped, his eyes lighting up in righteous anger. "She what?!" he exclaimed, almost dropping his coffee cup. Then his temper cooled as he took in the way Alex had said the words.

"Did you believe her?" he asked quietly, trying to look into Alex's ocean-like eyes. Alex's head bowed only slightly, his dark blond hair falling into his face, shadowing it. It was the answer Zeke expected. "No," Zeke whispered, shaking his head sorrowfully. "Don't believe a word that… that bitch has ever said to you. She's… she has no idea what she was saying." Alex put his tea down on the coffee table, worried it would fall out of his suddenly shaking hands.

"She's not the only person who's said it, though."

Zeke was taken aback once more. "Who else?" he asked angrily, also putting down his tea. "Who else has said that to you?" Alex took a deep breath, biting down on his lower lip. "My father." Zeke's anger subsided into a cold fury. He unexpectedly changed his position on the couch so that his legs were tucked under him, and his body was facing Alex. He reached out a hand to turn Alex's head to face his own. He stared deeply into the bluish green eyes, not unlike the tea they had just drunken from. "What else has he said to you?" Alex's eyes darkened until they were nearly black. "My father… said I looked so much like my mother… and not anything like him. He constantly accused her, even though she was dead, of having slept around. He never had the money to prove it, but for a time… I believed him. He constantly told me how ungrateful I was; I had to do most of the chores in the house, and he said it was as repayment for him 'taking me in.'" Alex chuckled resentfully. "What kind of parent would force a six year old to cook all the meals in the house? Or a fourteen year old to go out and buy porn magazines?

"What kind of father would force his child to have sex with him because his mother was apparently a whore, and should have his whore-child 'repay' him?"

Zeke blinked slowly, as wondering if what he heard was true or not. Then his eyes became wild, inhuman. "He… he raped you." The statement suddenly made everything all the more clear. Alex tearfully nodded, closing his eyes and leaning into Zeke's hand that rested on his cheek. At the movement, Zeke pulled Alex to his chest, wrapping his arms around the suddenly stiff form. He rubbed his hands up and down Alex's sides, and Alex relaxed slightly. "How many times?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. Alex shook his head and Zeke buried his face into the dirty blond hair.

'I don't know.'

It took quite a while for both of the young men to calm down.

A/N: I love this story. I love my characters' names, their situations, I can relate to both of them... and I talked to them a lot this month. I love Alex's eyes, and his hair, and his pen name, and his eyes, and- wait, I already mentioned that. And I love Zeke, too! NYA! Okay, please review and you'll have my undying alleigance.

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