Date: Sun, 4 Jun 2000 23:43:39 EDT
From: SSch191950@aol.com
Subject: The Knife That Twists Within, Part 20

Here is the final installment. I want to express my deepest thanks to
everyone that's written and stuck with the story over this long, long
time. Your assurances that the story wasn't a complete failure were
invaluable and inspiring. And a big cheerful thank you to my proofreaders
Michael and Alex, I couldn't have done it without you.

Gratefully,
Stefan


The Knife That Twists Within
Part 20

by Stefan


While he brewing himself Turkish coffee, Nicholas decided he was mad to
think of Sebastian in any way other than as a friend or as Kay's lover.
Yes, visiting the flat would likely stir memories. Memories of a single
night of passion as opposed to Marcus' cold and calculating "deal". But
his thinking, his consideration of the future had to center on Marcus
and not Sebastian. That resolved in his mind, Nicholas admitted to
himself that Sebastian's offer provided the opportunity to resume a
lifestyle he'd gotten used to - at least for a little while.

Later, Nicholas slipped into his jacket and boots and looked out the
window. Still it drizzled outside, the gray sky suggesting that the day
would get no brighter. Opening the door he nearly bumped into Tina.

   "Tina!" he exclaimed, amazed to discover Matthias behind her.

   "We were just about to ring," she grinned. Nick, at a loss for words,
stared at the smiling Matthias.

   "Well," his friend began,  "if you won't come to me, it seems I'll have
to come to you. What's up with you and Marcus?" He looked him up and down.
"Were you about to go out?"

Nicholas nodded. "Yes. I have to go to Sebastian's flat." His face
brightened. "Hey, why don't you come with me? You have the car with
you?"

   "Yes."

   "But why don't you come in first? Sebastian's flat can wait."

Tina and Matthias followed him inside. "So tell me, where have you been
all this time, we thought you'd forgotten about us." Matthias put on a
sulking face for effect. "I looked up  Marcus' telephone number and
called him. He said you were probably here. What's happened?"

Nicholas stood dumb. Of course! Matthias hadn't any clue about what had
happened. Nothing about the London trip, the screen, George, Rome nor
Sebastian.

   "Coffee?" he asked to gain time.

   "Yes, please."

Tina put the water on to boil, opened the shelves to pull out big cups.
She watched Nick from the corner of her eye, noticing that he was unshaven
and tired looking. It gave him a more mature appearance. The look in his
eyes was different, dulled maybe, as if he'd lost some of his innocence
or openness. She felt certain that something happened.

   "What went wrong with Marcus," she asked softly, "won't you tell us?"

Truthfully, Nicholas was tired of talking and thinking about it. He
watched Tina pour the boiling water over the coffee and stir it. He met
Matthias' grey blue, searching eyes and shook his head almost
imperceptibly.

   "What did Marcus say, exactly?"

   "Nothing more than that you were probably at your flat. He sounded
depressed. Have you argued?" He placed his hand on Nick's arm. "Has he
left you? Please say no."

Nicholas went over to help Tina with the cups. "I'm not sure, Matthias.
A lot has happened."

   "Your mother enjoyed the new clothes?" Tina threw in. The clothes,
yes. Nick remembered. How many days had passed since Tina and Matthias
had gone shopping with him?

   "Mother yes. But father... he doesn't want presents from a queer."
Nicholas too a deep breath. "You remember Marcus was in London to buy
a screen..." His voice trailed off. He hadn't the energy to tell the
story. He was unhappy. He was...

   "You don't have to tell us if you don't want, Nick." Tina looked at
him with pity. "I only hope that it will work out."

Nicholas shrugged his shoulders and drank the hot coffee. "I got a parcel
from Sebastian with his keys. He asked me to have a look at his flat. You
know he's in Rome with Kay."

Matthias sighed. "I see. If you want to go, we're ready."

Nick was very thankful that Matthias and Tina didn't insist on him
telling the whole story, and he remained taciturn while they drove to
Sebastian's flat. He was pleased to find six story light brown building
set amidst tall pines in a very quiet surrounding. Sebastian's flat was
on the top floor.

   "Looks very nice," Matthias said.

   "Indeed. Sebastian offered to let me stay here."

Tina looked surprised. "Why?"

   "He works in Rome and Kay will stay with him there. You've never met
them, right?"  Tina shook her head.

   "An entire floor only for him?" wondered Matthias as they stepped
inside. "Why does he need such a big flat when he lives in Rome?"

Nick shrugged. "Rich people."

   "You too belong to the rich people now, eh?" Matthias teased, "Or is
the money already spent?"

Nicholas slapped him in the rips playfully. "No, not spent. Saved for
times like these."

Surprisingly, Sebastian's flat was simply furnished. Function and comfort
over glitz or style. Nicholas had expected something more grandiose
considering the house in Rome. The trio moved from the hall to a large
American-style room - kitchen at one end, dining area combined with a
large living room. Beyond that was a broad terrace with an exceptional
view. The only doors led to the bedroom, bathroom and closet.

   "It's nice looking." Tina said. "Wished we had such a flat."

   "What are you supposed to do here, actually? I don't see any plants,
fishes, or pets."

   "Empty the fridge; he forgot. Perhaps I should stay here. I like it."
Nicholas went over to a small sideboard were his eye had caught a framed
picture.

   "This is Sebastian?" Tina asked, stepping up behind him. The photo was
of Sebastian and Marcus in their younger years. Marcus sat in the
foreground with Sebastian squatting behind, embracing him. They were
laughing, happy.

   "Beautiful men," Tina sighed. "They make a hot pair. Wait, they once
were a pair, right?"

   "Yes." Nick's eyes pricked suddenly. Perhaps they never should have
split.

   "Has Marcus gone back to him?" Matthias asked from at his other. "It
can't be; you said Sebastian was with Kay."

   "Yes, he's with Kay." Nicholas whispered. Tina and Matthias exchanged
a glance behind his back.

   "Hey, you haven't fallen in love with Sebastian, have you?" Matthias
pressed Nick's shoulder trying to see his face.

   "Marcus was in London and it just happened." Nicholas continued to
whisper.

   "Gosh," Matthias gasped. "That's the problem then? Marcus knows about
it."

Nick regretted that he had let it slip. Nobody from outside would be able
to understand what happened or why. Trying to explain would only sound
worse. "It's my business, Matthias. You can't help me. And this is only
a fraction of the story. You wouldn't believe it if you heard the whole
thing."

Tina's gaze remained fixed on the good looking man with the bright
grey-green eyes and the ravishing smile. Certainly she could understand
Nick. Of course she could. It wasn't hard to fall in love with men like
these. She looked to Matthias who still clasped Nick's shoulder and then
laid her hand on the opposite one. "It's ok, Nick," she said. "Tell us if
you want and if not, that's ok too. If you need help, you know where we
are." She smiled at Matthias and he smiled back.

   "Can we drive you home or do you want to empty the secrets of the
fridge alone?"

Nicholas had to laugh. It was a strange, suppressed sound. "It would be
nice if you could help me carry a few things back here. Would you do me
that favour?"

   "Of course."

It didn't take long for Nick to pack his bags, painting utensils, books
and some groceries. He wanted to be rid off his shabby flat and be
someplace he could breathe freely.

   "You're sure about being left alone? Give us the phone number, please,"
Matthias requested.

Nicholas scribbled it on a scrap of paper, gave it Matthias and gave them
both a thankful look. Tina gave him a kiss on this cheek and they waved
from outside at Nick standing on the terrace. He was happy to have such
good friends and the thought of it eased the pain inside him somewhat.

After the perfunctory tour, Nick now inspected the rooms with more care,
touching the furniture, opening cupboards, the bathroom and finally the
bedroom. This seemed to be the only room Sebastian valued, because the
bed was large and covered with a plush dark green bedspread and several
fluffy pillows.

A poster covered one wall - the life-sized image of a naked man, back
turned to show firm, beautiful buttocks. "Looks like Marcus," Nick mumbled,
wondering how many nights Sebastian had jerked off while staring at those
arse cheeks. The thought made him laugh - as if Sebastian needed to
masturbate - certainly there was always a hot guy around to do it for
him. And Kay - surely he had slept here together with him.

Nick sat cautiously upon the comforter. The bed was soft but not too
soft - he supposed he might sleep here as if he were in 7th heaven.

Then he jumped up and opened Sebastian's closet. Amid the coats, shirts
pullovers, and boots lying in the corner, Nick caught sight of motorbike
gear. Could it be Kay's?  While considering it, he stroked the emerald
green sleeve of a pullover hanging there. Finally pulling it down, he
ripped off his own sweatshirt and slipped into Sebastian's, breathing
the familiar scent deeply.

So comforted, he trotted into the kitchen and opened the fridge expecting
stinking vegetables. Instead, he found old eggs, moldy cheese and spoiled
milk. These he tossed into a plastic bag, and left the flat for the
dumpster.

Heaven hadn't cleared up and the treetops were still veiled in a slight
haze. He shivered despite the woolen pullover, so he ran upstairs again,
ignoring the lift. In the flat again he turned on the heat and the TV but
soon got bored. If Marcus wanted to reach him, it was now impossible. It
would be up to him to contact Marcus.  Again his eyes met the photo on
the sideboard. 'A very hot pair.' He remembered Tina's words and he
conceded that she was right. He remembered the laughing, kisses, touches,
climaxes - with both men.

Sighing, he sauntered through the room and opened the storage closet door
beside the bath. It was larger than he would have supposed, containing
suitcases, a vacuum, boxes, buckets, a ladders... and an easel.

Nicholas pulled it out wiping away the dust with his fingers, his heart
pounding. Sebastian had said he couldn't paint, so this had to belong to
Marcus.

He dragged the easel into an open area between the living area and the
kitchen, where he finished dusting it off. Then he shook out his bags,
taking the big pad of paper and setting it on the stand. Opening the
box of Conte-chalk he began to draw without thinking.

All the hours by day and night he'd spent studying Marcus' body came
back to him, helping him to draw without his subject present. He
remembered the body parts, the swelling of the muscles, the soft sweep
of his hips where they passed over into his muscular legs and protruding
buttocks - the dark shade of his pubic hair, the line of his erect cock,
the shimmering head, the roundness of his balls. Then he began a second
body - same height - in a close, intense embrace, their erect cocks
pressed together, rubbing and exchanging fluids, tongues entwined.

He painted with the crayon in Sepia colour and highlighted it finally
with red and white. White, were the light fell upon a naked shoulder or
a bare buttock. The effect was as if the skin gleamed like polished
bronze and it reminded Nicholas of the nights he had spent with Marcus
while the light flooded through the open window, the moonbeams dying on
Marcus' velvet skin.

Again Nick was absorbed in the fever of painting, sensing nothing. He'd
tossed Sebastian's pullover aside long ago, wiping his crayon soiled
fingers against his bare, sweating chest. At one point, thirst drove
him to the fridge where he'd remembered seeing a bottle of wine. He
poured a water glass full. It tasted marvelous.

As he had emptied the glass, he stood before the easel and tried to
look at the work as objectively as possible. He found it was breathtaking.


Nicholas noticed that it had grown dark and he was again thirsty as well
as hungry. Quickly he made a sandwich and poured more wine, continuing
to study the picture while he ate. Suddenly he felt very tired, and
glancing at the kitchen clock he saw that it was after 2.

He took a quick shower to rinse away the chalks and used one of the
towels hanging nearby. Naturally, it carried Sebastian's scent. Then
he slipped naked beneath the sheets, turning on the little TV opposite
the bed. The soft babbling of the sports channel guided him into sleep.
But it was not long before he awoke again,  staring at the bare arse
cheeks of the man on the wall.

He longed for Marcus' presence so much that it hurt. What was Marcus
doing? Lying awake as he was? Thinking about him? If so, what was he
thinking? Had he tried to call?

Nicholas tossed back the cover and reached for the phone beside the
bed. Slowly he dialed Marcus' number and listening as it rang through.
Then he heard Marcus' very clear voice and it startled him into replacing
the receiver as if his fingers had been burnt. So Marcus was awake,
probably not able to sleep either.

Nick turned off the TV and slipped into his jeans. Then he began a
restless walk around the flat, talking to himself. Eventually he carried
the easel into the bedroom and sat in an easy chair by the window looking
at it. The more he stared, his eyes glazing, the more he could see the
painted bodies moving, breathing, heaving, pushing, tasting and finally
exploding... Unconsciously his hand moved inside his jeans to stroke his
erection.

Marcus... his beloved, dark-haired Marcus, his one and only lover...

Nicholas pulled out his hand away suddenly, though his penis protested.
What was he doing? He didn't have to jerk off to a picture of Marcus. He
could go and call him! In less than an hour Marcus could be here and
everything in the painting could be true again ...

Perhaps.

Nicholas' cock still screamed for attention. Slowly he allowed his hand
to slip back into his jeans where he rubbed the hot, hard, moist flesh
while gazing at the men before him so absorbed in each other.

Damn think! Think! Who do you think of when you jerk off? Which man?
Marcus or Sebastian?

Rain drops spattered against the window and with a suppressed cry, he
came into his hand. Licking the white liquid from his fingers and palm,
the answer was clear.

Marcus.

He wanted him with every fibre of his body. He would forgive him
everything - nothing could destroy these strong feelings for him. He
jumped up, reached for the phone. This time Marcus picked up on the
first ring.

   "It's me," Nick told him in a near whisper. Marcus said nothing.
"How are you?" Nicholas continued.

   "Ok. And you? What are you doing?"

   "I've painted."

   "Really? A portrait of Sebastian?" This response was a cold shower
for Nicholas. A very cold shower.

   "You can't forgive me?"

Marcus didn't respond.

   "Say something, Marcus. You are not the only one who is hurt."

Marcus cleared his throat. "True. Let us have a bit time please. A few
days, okay?"

Nicholas replaced the receiver hanging his head in sorrow.


Marcus' hand still held the receiver. Just hearing Nick's voice had
made him tremble. Tremble with disappointment, tremble with desire. If
Sebastian had told him he had slept with his Nick, Marcus would had
refused to believe it. But Nick had admitted it and so it had to be true.

He wasn't sure what hurt more: to find that Nick, like Simon, had gone
searching for entertainment as soon as Marcus was away, or the deep
love that he still felt for the boy in spite of it.

Marcus noticed that he had used the word entertainment. But Nick had
not cheated for 'entertainment'. Thinking of their first night
together... Nick had been so scared. So full of sorrow. But he had
ultimately trusted. And being united with that sweet young man was
more than Marcus ever had dreamt of. Perhaps he hadn't shown him how
much he loved him, how much he cared about him ... And Sebastian, that
bastard, had taken full advantage of the situation. But wait. Nick had
said it wasn't Sebastian's fault.

Jesus! If he only knew what to do. Yet another night without sleep was
making it difficult to think clearly. His eyes fell on Nicholas' copy
of Burne-Jones' "Atlas" with the long, dangling cock between his legs
- a nice alteration to the tiny original. Marcus regretted having no
photo of Nicholas, no drawing - nothing and yet he felt he might be
able to paint his face and body out of memory - the open violet-blue
eyes, the delicate skin over his high cheekbones, the tiny freckles
upon the bridge of his nose and the full, soft lips who's kiss was so
heavenly - certainly Sebastian would agree. About that and how
pleasurable his body was and how devotedly ...

Marcus shook his head: You are thinking with your cock, idiot! It wasn't
just about a bed mate. That he could easily replace. He wanted the full
man, brain and spirit with all his flaws. With all his perfection.

Slowly he removed his hand from the receiver and went upstairs to the
bedroom. Time to stop this restless wandering and aimless thinking. In
the bathroom he looked into the mirror at his hollow and dry eyes.

"You are looking like shit," he muttered to himself. He ruffled his hair
until it stood on end and wiped over his dark stubled chin. If Nick would
see him, he would be repulsed. What's happened to you, Marcus Weidenbruch?
Shaking his head he left the bathroom, his eyes falling on Sebastian's
portrait.

Marcus examined the strong nose, the sharply outlined lips that played
with a slight, wistful smile. Sebastian was looking into the distance,
all his cockiness gone. Marcus knew very well that Sebastian had been
searching his whole life for pleasure and perhaps for a man he could
settle down with. It was quite possible that he and Nicholas had sought
out each other only for consolation. Hadn't Sebastian always been there
for Nick? Whenever Alex had attacked? While Marcus was busy with other
things, Sebastian had pushed Nick from the car's path, taken him to the
hospital, prevented the exhibition hall from burning, even asked him to
Rome. And what had he done?

Suddenly, Marcus ran downstairs and grabbed the phone with shaking hands,
dialing Sebastian in Rome. He waiting through several rings before a very
sleepy Kay answered.

  "Kay?" Marcus asked, "Still sleeping?"

Kay sat up with a jolt. "Marcus?" He looked at the digital clock at the
nightstand. "It's only 7 am! What do you expect?" He blinked and wiped
his disheveled hair. Looking at Sebastian, curled up like a baby at his
side, he spoke softly, "What's up? Where are you? Have you spoken to
Nick?"

   "A lot of questions for this early hour, Kay. Yes, I just now spoke
to Nick, but only very briefly." Marcus didn't know what to say exactly
because he wasn't sure what Sebastian had told Kay.

   "May I speak to Sebastian?" Again Kay threw a glance to Sebastian's
peaceful face and the man began to stir.

   "He's just waking. Give him a few seconds."

Kay bent down, pushing sandy strands of hair from Sebastian's face,
kissing him lightly on the lips. "Hey, sleepy head, Marcus is the phone."

Sebastian growled something unintelligible before opening his eyes.
"Marcus?" he mumbled reaching for the phone.

   "Yeah? What time is it?"

Marcus ignored the question. "What did you tell Kay? Did you tell him
the truth?"

Suddenly Sebastian was very awake. "What? The truth about George? Yes,
why?"

   "That's not what I'm talking about, Bastian. I know the whole truth.
Nick told me everything."

Sebastian fumbled with the receiver and sat up. He glimpsed at Kay now
reclining again with his eyes closed.

   "What did he say?"

   "Why, Sebastian? I only want to know why." Marcus voice was calmed
by his exhaustion, but Sebastian's heart pounded as he considered his
answer.

   "Things happen. I'm sorry about it though." Again he looked at Kay
and slipped noiselessly out of bed and the bedroom.

   "You are sorry?" Marcus' reply was sharp.

   "Listen to me, Marcus. I have no excuse for what we did. I don't know
how Nick explained it, but all I can say is ... you know I've always
liked him ... he's so sweet. And he was so lonely. We drove to the sea
and it was... he was despairing, Marcus. He thought you had betrayed him,
left him forever. We didn't know what had happened in London. Try and see
it from his point of view!"  Sebastian had arrived on ground floor where
he stood gesticulating in the nude. "I know he loves you. It happened only
out of forlornness... can't you understand?" Sebastian listened to the
silence in the receiver. "Marcus?"

   "Yeah, still here." He took a deep breath. "I can understand. I've
thought a lot over the last few days. It's just ... It hurts."

Sebastian looked into the large mirror and saw that his face had
contracted to a painful grimace. Yes, it hurt. He knew. "Will you tell
Kay?"

   "Me? I think that's your job!"

Sebastian sighed. "What I want to know is, should I? I mean the story is
over, so..."

   "I have no clue, Bastian. Figure it out for yourself. You have put us
all into the dog's breakfast."

   "Me?" Sebastian protested. "Certainly it was YOU! You were always
chasing useless things forgetting about all the people that love you.
I've forgotten why ANYBODY should love you, actually. You are always
absent! Now, go and tell Nick what you did and try to patch up what can
be patched up. But remember the broken vase - it will always break in
the same place."

With this he put down the receiver, stumbling over the wire from upstairs
and stubbing his big toe on the sideboard. He jumped around in pain and
cursed loudly. This was all a shit!

He regretted his harsh words, but somebody had to set Marcus straight.
>From the bedroom he heard Kay shouting, asking what was happening. Kay!
Yes he had to figure it out  - should he tell him or not? He was sure
that neither Marcus nor Nick would let out any words concerning this
but could he live with it himself? What would it be like to have Kay
pack his suitcase again, forever? Sebastian was sure he couldn't stand
it.

As he entered the bedroom Kay beamed at him. "You're looking good this
morning," he cheered. "Come here to me."

Sebastian thought perhaps Kay was in need of glasses if he thought this
was looking good. Surely he looked dismayed as well as disheveled.
Certainly not "good". But he crept into bed again, rolling Kay onto
his back, kissing his neck. Kay began to purr.

   "Have you ever betrayed any of your lovers?" Sebastian asked.

   "Huh?" Kay wriggled, trying to look into Sebastian's eyes.

   "What brings this up all the sudden? Marcus?"

   "Have you?"

   "I guess so, yes."

   "And?"

   "What do you want to hear?" Kay asked. "It was a long time ago. You
know there's always a hot guy around the next corner."

Sebastian stopped his kissing and opened his eyes. "A hot guy around
the corner? And you complained about Andrea! So you would leave me for
a hot guy?"

   "Of course not." Kay pushed Sebastian away softly. "What's the reason
for this? I'm talking of negligible fucks. I've never had a serious
relationship. You could be the first."

Sebastian smiled but asked with uncertainty, "I could be?"

   "Yes, you twit." Kay laughed and pulled Sebastian's lips to his
own. "You are."

Sebastian knew he never could tell him about Nick.





Because all I ever wanted
-------------------------

   "Already here or are you still here from the yesterday evening?"
Marcus smiled at Johannes who was sitting on his stool bent over a
small wood frame whose bronze paint needed cleaning. He looked up.

   "Back again, Marcus. I'm an early riser, as you know." The attentive
pale eyes behind the glasses examined Marcus and found him in the same
bad condition as before.

Marcus met his questioning eyes. "Nick was in Rome, Johannes, as you
supposed."

   "Yes? And?"

   "Nothing more. We flew back together but ... he's at his flat now.
I have no clue how it will continue."

Johannes grimaced and shook his head.  "What shall I say to this? It's
not my business. But if I were you, I would go to him instantly."

   "Yes, you are right, it's not your business." Marcus said sharply.
"Sorry for that. I'm confused and I'm tired. I need sleep, I guess, but
the exhibition has to come first."

   "Apropos. There were some calls from the buyer of Nick's portraits.
You remember Mrs. Schneider, the fidgety woman with the oppressive
perfume? She bought the paintings of a young man with bleached hair."

   "Kay, yes. What did she want?"

   "She wants to engage him as portrait painter for her family."

   "Indeed? That's marvelous! I must tell him instantly. Oh ..." Marcus
turned his back to Johannes. "Could you do it for me please? Don't want
to speak to him right now."

Again Johannes shook his head but said, "As you like."

Marcus could feel the disapproval of the old man but there was nothing
what he could do about it right now. Instead, he said, "All the
invitations have been delivered? The press informed? Catering service
called?"

   "All done."

   "Good. Good job." He looked into Johannes eyes. "Heard from Alex?"

   "No. Is there a problem?"

Marcus shook his head. "Nothing important. I just thought you might need
a hand,an assistant."

Johannes looked amazed. "Someone to help me? All of a sudden?"

   "Yes. All of a sudden. Now, please, would you call Nick? Here's his
number."

Of course nobody answered the phone at Nicholas' home and Marcus was
more than disappointed. Luckily he had the numbers of all his friends;
insisting on it after Nick had vanished the last time. He was able to
reach Matthias who told him that Nick was probably at Sebastian's flat.
Marcus almost flipped.

Was there no end to it! His longing for Sebastian was so big that he
had to stay in his flat! Damn it. So much for "only one time" ... "it
just happened"!

Johannes watched Marcus' face - now a mixture of deep anger and
disappointment. He quickly dialed Sebastian's number and got Nicholas
on the phone after two rings.

   "It's Johannes, Nick. How are you?"

   "Oh, Johannes." Nicholas' voice sounded disappointed. "I'm fine. But
how did you know that I was here?"

   "Marcus has the number of a friend of yours and he told him."

   "You mean Matthias, right? But why didn't Marcus call me himself?"

Johannes sighed. "Listen, Nick. We have an offer for you. Remember the
woman who bought your portrait of the blond? She wants you to paint her
family. It's a good offer, boy. Good money. I'll give you the number and
address. Promise me to call her, won't you?"

Nicholas' mind swirled - Offer? Portraits? Money?- Vaguely he remembered
a woman in grass-green pants... Sebastian had sold her the portrait of
Kay for a horrid sum.

   "Yes," he stuttered, "give me the address. I will go there. Today?
Is seven a good time?"

   "Calm down, Nick. First, call her, do you hear me? Such people don't
like it when you just show up."

   "Can't Marcus go with me?" He bit his lip. "Forget that. Is he there?"
Johannes looked at Marcus. "No," he lied and hated Marcus for it. "Now
write."



Nicholas set the pen down, staring at the sheet with the address and
phone number. A commissioned work! Only for him!  He flushed again.
Would he be able to do it? He was still insecure with most rich people
and their lifestyle, but surely the woman liked the way he painted and
so there should be nothing for him to fear. He tried to figure out
exactly where her residence was, but couldn't be sure. Rummaging through
Sebastian's shelves and drawers for a map proved futile. He gave up with
a sigh and turned towards his drawing from last night.

Again he was captivated by the embracing male bodies and wondered if he
had drawn himself in the right proportion. Pulling off his sweatshirt
to confirm the picture's rendering, he was startled by the door bell.
Letting the sweatshirt fall to the floor, he tiptoed to the door,
peering through the peephole. It took a moment for his brain to realize
what his eyes beheld.

Marcus.

He was standing right before him, separated by perhaps only three
centimeters of wood. Slowly his fingers curled around the door handle.

He was shaved, Nick noticed, hair combed and dressed in a black, thin
pullover which suited him well. He looked like a dark angel. An avenging
angel? Marcus' face clearly mirrored his emotions.

   "Won't you let me in?" he asked.

Nicholas opened the door wide and Marcus passed him.

   "You owe me an answer. Actually two," he said.

   "Two?"

   "I asked you if it was ok to think about you and me for a bit, but
you just hung up. I hate that. And second, why have you crept away here
to Sebastian's flat? Were you longing to be near him?"

Nicholas had led the way into the living room. Turning, he saw that
Marcus was glaring over his shoulder. Without turning, Nicholas knew
Marcus was looking at the drawing. His eyes wandered over Marcus' face
trying to gauge his reaction. Marcus stepped by him, up to the easel.

   "You made this? Yesterday?" he muttered. "It's me. It's... you and
me."

   "Indeed." Nicholas answered. "Did you really expect me to draw
Sebastian?" he asked, bitterly.

Marcus swirled around. "Stop it Nick. Let us talk like sensible men,
all right?"

   "All right."

Again Marcus examined the drawing, outlining every body part with his
eyes. "It's splendid, darling. Outstanding. It's the best you've ever
made."

Nicholas' cheeks flushed; he knew Marcus spoke as connoisseur, not as
a layman or somebody who only wanted to please him.

Marcus' eyes found his and the look from them was gentle. "You still
owe me an answer."

   "Yes." Nicholas breathed deeply. "You may have time, but I don't
need it. I want you. You said nothing bad happened between you and
George and I believe you. But you..." he looked away. "I'm not sure
if you can forgive ME. It's... I was angry because you always valued
YOUR desires over mine, or forgot mine altogether. You understand?"
Turning his back to Marcus, he put his hands into the pockets of his
jeans. "I know my failure weighs more. I'm afraid you will never forget
it. That you have lost your best friend ... because of me." He sighed
deeply. "What have we done?"

If Nicholas had turned and looked at him, Marcus would have melted
like frost in the early morning sun. As it was, he swallowed hard.
"Nicholas," he whispered. "What can I say to you? What can I promise?
I've thought a lot about it and I'm not cross with Sebastian. Not cross
with you. I'm just tired."

Nicholas turned. "And you've lost weight," he said.

Marcus smiled. "A bit yes. I missed your cooking."

   "You will never see George again?"

   "Never!" Marcus exclaimed. "I haven't wasted a thought on him. Do
you really think I did it because I fancied him?" He shook his head.

   "No. That's the point, Marcus. It wasn't that you fancied another
man. It was your madness to possess something for yourself, something
you didn't want anyone else to have! You forgot about the feelings of
the people who love you." He echoed Sebastian's words. "Have you finally
realized this?" Nicholas continued.

   "Yes, I have. But what do you want me to do? I love the job I do.
It's been my whole life so far. I can't just stop it and do nothing."

Nicholas went to him, taking his upper arms in his hands. "Sure you
can continue your work. But without the madness. You lost Simon over
it. You want to lose me too?"

   "I haven't already?" Marcus asked almost timidly.

Nicholas smiled. "Can forgive me?"

Marcus put a fingertip over Nicholas' lips. "Shsh. There's nothing to
forgive." He pointed to the easel. "This drawing tells me everything."

With one smooth motion he pulled Nicholas close to him and trembled at
the touch of his naked skin beneath his hands. It was so different from
the feel of a dead piece of wood and glass. It was hot and smooth and
velvet and vivid. It breathed and pulled together into goose bumps.
Nothing could compare this. Nothing. He dug his hands into Nick's old
golden hair, pulling his lips close. It felt like the very first kiss.

Nick's hands were all over him suddenly, trying to undress him but
Marcus stopped his actions. Looking deep into Nick's blue eyes he
whispered, "Not here. Not in Sebastian's bed." Taking Nicholas' small
fingers in his hand tightly, Marcus told him, "Let's get your things
together, sunshine, then I'll take you home."

Nicholas was lightheaded, as if he had drunk too much. As fast as he
could he threw all his clothes into the bags, grabbed the painting
utensils and pulled on his sweatshirt.

   "The drawing?"

   "Have you fixed it?"

   "No. I have no fixative here."

   "Then we'll pick it up later. Come." He stretched out his hand and
pushed Nicholas through the door.

Marcus would do the right thing for him, he was sure. Was it so easy?
Just a few words and everything would be like it was before? As if there
had never been a George, a screen, nor a tryst with Sebastian? Only the
future could tell if this would last. But Nick wouldn't think about it
right now.

Marcus stopped the Mercedes in front of his workshop. With a broad
smile he motioned to Nicholas to follow him. Just like their first
meeting, Nicholas thought. Dust shimmered in the cross beams of the
pale sun which had fought against the rain clouds and finally won.
The sculpture of Mercury stood near the door, with his beautifully
shaped legs and his polished dark skin. Beyond, the cupboards with
dusty glass doors hid their contents so that only vague shadows
could be seen. Broken spears were stacked against the wall and then
there was the sword.

   "Do you remember?" Marcus asked in a low, husky voice. He pointed
to Michelangelo's drawing at the wall.

  "Yes. I remember it all. You asked me if this was a woman or a man.
You said it could be Tommaso dei Cavalieri."

Marcus laughed quietly. "You remember this name?"

   "I told you, I remember everything," Nicholas repeated.

Marcus took Nicholas' hand and kissed the fingers. "Sometimes it's not
so good to have the memory of an elephant, darling. You have to forget.
And forgive."

   "Memory prevents you from repeating your mistakes," Nicholas
responded.

   "Quite true."

Nicholas stepped up to the sword stuck in the rock. He grabbed the
hilt with one hand and pulled lightly. It did not move. Marcus smiled
and moved beside him.

   "Have I ever told you that I love you?"

Nicholas swallowed and gazed searchingly into Marcus' dark eyes. Marcus
put his hand tightly over Nicholas' where it still embraced the handle
and pulled with him. Both men had the impression that the sword moved
slightly. There was a cracking in the stone and a slight vibration in
the metal. Or was it only happening in their imaginations?

   "If we pulled out the sword, it would be a miracle,"  Nicholas said.
"But to answer your question, no you've never said it. Have I?"

   "Yes." Marcus kissed his lips. "You have. But I won't mind hearing
it again. As for the other, miracles happen every day. You just have
to wait and see."

He loosened Nick's hand from the hilt and pulled him to the exit. "I
can't wait, angel. Come home."

He didn't have to say it twice.

				 -- END --