Date: Mon, 11 Feb 2008 19:09:31 -0800 (PST)
From: Zare Scott <raspucin70@yahoo.com>
Subject: Rip Tide, Chapter 16

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction.  It depicts a romance between
two consenting adult males and may contain some descriptions of sexual act
between two consenting adult males.  If you are not of legal age to read
this kind of story, please leave now.  If you reside in area where reading
stories that include sexual situations between two consenting adult males
are illegal, please leave now.  This story is for entertainment purposes
only.  Any similarity to any person(s) living or dead is simply a
coincidence.  The author retains all rights to this story.  It cannot be
reproduced in any form without expressed written permission from the author
(me).  Please contact the author for any requests at raspucin70@yahoo.com.
Copyright 2008


Ch 16: The Whiteout


(Matt's point of view)

I woke up, startled and confused. It was very early - the dawn painted the
sky in a dim gray as I glanced through the window. I stared at the ceiling
for several seconds, totally disoriented. I had no idea what time it was,
what day, or why I had the feeling that something big and important had
happened. I had had that feeling before, a long time ago, when my family
had moved into our new house; for days on end, I would wake up not knowing
where I was. Now the same feeling was back, tantalizingly ambiguous and
foggy in my brain.

But I had been living here long enough to know the patterns of the shades
of my room. I hadn't moved, at least not that recently. I rolled on my
side, still mystified about what it was that seemed so disconcerting. Had I
just woken up from a dream? I closed my eyes again and gathered the blanket
closer to my body, pleasantly lulled by the mixed-up thoughts going through
my head. Nothing that I could...

I bolted upright in my bed, suddenly completely awake. All the events from
last night came back to me, in a blizzard-like flash, illuminating my mind
in a fraction of a second as I saw the sight that was on the other side of
my room. I was staring for what seemed like an eternity, still unable to
comprehend the sight that was in front of me, only several feet from my
bed.

Hayden was sleeping on the couch, not even three feet away .

It took me several very long minutes to take in that fact, but I still
couldn't believe my eyes. Bracing my knees, I rested my head on my hands,
still looking at him.

I just couldn't believe it. The events from last night were too surreal,
too fantastic. It was still too much for me to grasp. I got out of bed,
very quietly pushing the bed covers away. I was literarily afraid that his
presence in my room was just a figment of my imagination, just a mirage,
and that if I took my eyes off of him, or made too loud a noise, or just
breathed too coarsely, he would disappear.

Still trying to be as quiet as possible, I stepped to Hayden, feeling like
a thief in my own room, sneaking up to him like that. I stood up above him,
trembling. I was not cold so much as I was feeling an inner shudder that
was coursing through my body.

Hayden was sleeping, with his left arm underneath his head. It was a
beautiful, dreamy sight that still seemed strangely out of place, and yet
at the same time so right. Nicki...in my room...on my couch. A smile came
across my face, without me even noticing it. The masculine line of his jaw
was now accented with a shadow of a beard, making him look even manlier. My
hand instinctively extended towards his face, but I withdrew it. I didn't
want to wake him up, but at the same time I wanted to be close to him. I
wanted to scurry myself next to him, but I knew that the couch was too
narrow for both of us to lay on it comfortably. I stood there for several
seconds, studying him. I could look at his handsome face for hours, and not
be tired of it. I turned around: even though my bed was only a couple of
feet away, to me that was too far from him at this moment. I wanted to be
next to him. Quietly, I sat on the floor, leaning with my back against the
couch. Hayden's right hand was h
 a!  nging a bit over the edge of the couch, almost as thought he was
reaching for something in his sleep. The way I was sitting, his hand was
inches away from my face. In a strange way, it filled me with comfort, as
he was almost touching me. I shuddered again, and then I pulled the blanket
from my bed to wrap myself in it, thinking about all that had happened last
night. It was still too unreal to comprehend, no matter how many times I
had replayed last night's events in my head.

...Hayden, looking at me, wide eyed, almost in shock as I was screaming at
him in the middle of his living room, moments before I bolted out into the
night, all discombobulated and disjointed...

...Then later, finding him on my doorstep, sleeping and shivering in his
sleep.

...Him, coming to me in my bathroom, with that ominous looks in his
eyes. And only seconds later, when he grabbed me, grabbed me so tightly,
just to plant his hot lips on mine.

Oh my God, he kissed me.

I absentmindedly touched my lips, as if I needed reassurance that those
were my lips that had been tasting Nicki's, with such ferocity that was
hard for me to describe. It was by far the most intense feeling that I had
experienced my whole life! My whole body shuddered again, this time from
the recollection of that kiss. That was not just a kiss; Hayden pushed his
whole body into me, grabbing me tightly while planting his mouth onto
mine. And how his hands were so gently holding my face while he maintained
a firm pressure with his body into mine, commanding attention, taking me
completely. At that moment the whole building could have collapsed around
us, and I wouldn't have noticed anything. All my senses were focused on
this tiny portion of the universe that was him and me, embraced
tightly. And the center of that universe was the spot where our lips were
touching, burning an irreplaceable sensation into my soul.

He kissed me.

I still couldn't believe it. I looked over my shoulder. He was still
sleeping, quietly. This time I couldn't resist; I extended my hand and very
gently touched his face. That reassured me that he was real, that that kiss
was real, that this morning was real. I withdrew my hand and rested my head
on my crossed hands. Last night's events came back, rushing through my
mind, all over again.

Hayden and I left the bathroom, still holding each other. He was still
limping a little bit, so I helped him sit on the couch. The anxiety started
to upsurge in me, and I didn't even know why. Nervously, almost aimlessly,
I went back to the kitchen and retrieved the two cups of tea that I had
prepared earlier. Coming back to the room, my chest started to cramp once
again. It was an indescribable feeling of confusion, a bizarre sense of
being totally lost, and treading water without any course or
direction. This was new territory for me, and I was getting into it
head-first, without any ideas or pathways of where I should go or what I
should do next.

With my shaky hands, I placed the cups on the table and turned to
him. Again, there was a look in his eyes that I couldn't describe. Those
dark, penetrating eyes, that were boring into my soul, locked onto mine
once again. In a snap, he grabbed my hand so he could pull me close to him
and, seconds later, my lips were on his again, kissing, tasting, probing. I
was kissing him all over again...and it was exhilarating and wonderful just
as it had been minutes ago. His lips were setting my whole head on fire,
his strong hands holding my head so gently and yet so firmly. My head was
spinning, my body was spinning...the whole room was spinning... I had to
unlock myself from him to catch my breath. He was still looking at me, with
the same intensity as a minute ago. Or was it an hour ago? The concept of
time was foreign to me at that point. I moved myself into a more
comfortable position, closer to him, and we continued to kiss, this time
more tentatively, more carefully, trying to
 m!  ake the moment last longer. I was not sure what was happening to me,
but my whole body felt as if it was floating, weightless, and connected to
only one thing in this world - Hayden's mouth. Oh, those wonderful lips! He
was not just returning my kiss; he was giving it all, kissing me back with
such passion that I never knew existed. Never in my life had I experienced
such wonderful feelings before. It was as if his lips were sending electric
current straight into my brain. I was trembling in his arms, as if I was
cold, while experiencing a heat wave that was emanating from him and
burning through me. My eyes remained closed, as we kissed. There were too
many things going on, and I was afraid that, if I opened my eyes, I might
faint. He was still holding my head, very gently caressing my face, moving
his thumbs that were resting on my cheek bones, in small circles. That
alone was enough to put me over the edge, but somehow I was managing to
hang on, to be there, not to end or
 i!  nterrupt this wonderful and incredible moment.

 Finally, we pulled our mouths apart, gasping. My chest was heaving: my
whole body was tingling as I was lying almost on top of him, with my hands
resting on each side of his body. He moved upwards a bit, making more space
for both of us on the narrow couch. I moved too, nestling my head on his
chest. Hayden moved his hands to embrace me in a hug, gently caressing my
shoulders. The heaviness of his strong hands on my shoulders and back felt
comforting in a manner that I had never thought possible. I felt safe, I
felt protected, and...

 My throat became tight with emotions again, as I welcomed the feeling
despite the tension that it was bringing into me.

I felt loved.

The realization of that feeling sent me in a state of total emotional
bliss, accompanied by a sensation of warmth the likes of which I had never
experienced before in my life. I felt as if I was melting inside,
dissolving at every seam of my being and at every fold of my soul. And the
fire that was fueling all that was right there, embracing me with his
strong arms, making light motions over my shoulder while my hand was
resting on his broad chest, ensuring me even more that the moment was
real. I grabbed his hand in mine, and held tightly, feeling his fingers
with mine. He responded with light touches on top of my palm, remaining the
gentle presence that was melting me into pieces. I don't know how long we
stayed like that. I think we both fell asleep in each other's arms.

I woke up perhaps an hour later, startled and confused, and in my own
bed. The room was much colder now, and despite wearing my long-sleeve
t-shirt, I was still feeling the coldness of the early morning air on my
arms. I sat up, as gently as I could. Hayden was sleeping, with his hands
crossed over his chest, still wearing his sweatshirt.

"How come I'm in my bed now?" the thought came upon me while I was drowsily
looking at him.

Hayden...Hayden must have carried me into my own bed and then returned to
the couch. Confused about this whole evening, I placed my feet on the cold
floor, still thinking. Was this...was this just a dream? Was this just a
sick joke of my mind, playing a cruel game with me? I glanced towards
Hayden. No, this was real. It had to be. Incredible things like that kiss
did not happen in the dreams, for the simple reason that they are too
fantastic. I looked at him again. Just looking at him sent waves of warmth
through my soul. Still shivering, I got up. The room was cold, so I got my
only spare blanket from the closet. I meant to crawl back onto the couch
next to him, but I realized that my couch was way too narrow for the two of
us to sleep comfortably. For a moment I was thinking of waking him up so we
could move to my bed, but I decided not to. I still didn't know what
Hayden's position towards all this was. I didn't want to freak him out by
inviting him in my bed in the middle
  !  of the night. And he had clearly made his choice by staying on the
couch. I stood over him for a moment, musing over this whole thing. "If
this is real" I thought to myself, "and he is here after all this...why
does he prefer not to be with me? Why does he want to stay distant and..."
I sighed, not finding any answer. I realized that fact was starting to
bother me at an alarming rate, so I decided to deliberately dismiss
it. Hayden was here. That was all that mattered to me. He was here with me,
now. That was all that I cared for at that moment.

I covered him up with the comforter from my bed and regretfully returned to
my own bed. I sighed, watching him. My body was yearning to be close to
him, just as we were hours ago; I almost got up again, but I scalded myself
for thinking in such manner. "Hayden needs to rest, and you cannot burden
him with your selfish needs anymore". With determination, I closed my eyes,
still feeling really guilty for him sleeping on the couch while I was in my
comfortable bed. I was tossing an idea in my head, knowing that he would
not accept to trade places with me, and at the same time, being unsure
whether or not he would be comfortable sharing my bed with me. I sighed
again and closed my eyes.  I hadn't slept for more than an hour when I woke
up, startled and confused. I moved on the floor next to Hayden. Now, I was
feeling much better there, despite being fairly uncomfortable on the hard
floor. It didn't matter. All I knew was that I was next to him, and that
was more than enough for me. My eyelids became heavy as I was listening to
his even breathing, lulling me into a most comfortable feeling of being
wholesome with someone that I yearned for so long. I drifted to a peaceful
sleep in a matter of minutes.

(Hayden's point of view)

I woke up, blinking several times to get the last bits of sleep out of my
eyes. I felt dizzy, as if I had been drinking last night. The pressure in
my head was accompanied by that familiar feeling as I was looking around
the room. I knew where I was immediately. It was morning, and I was lying
on the couch in Matt's room, with Matt right by my side next to the couch,
curled into the blanket.

As I was lying still, gathering all my senses, it became more and more
clear to me that there was something very different about this
morning. This morning was carrying something distinctive, something
special. Unlike any other morning when I woke up next to a girl, this time
I woke up next to someone for whom I had much deeper feelings.

I woke up next to Matt, the boy who took my life by a storm, destroying
completely all my composure and self-control, all the things that I had
worked so hard to achieve the previous years. He took all that and smashed
it into pieces, without even being aware of any of my internal havoc. And I
didn't care. Quite the opposite.

I looked at his bowed head, as he was leaning his head on his hands,
sleeping. I extended my hand, lovingly stroking his hair with a gentle
motion. He moved in his sleep, and I moved my hand back, but he was already
waking up. I watched as he lifted his head and blinked several times into
the morning light, and then turned his head to me.

Oh, those eyes. Every time he looked at me I relived the same wonderful
experience of the immense depth of those blue eyes. He lifted himself up
just slightly, enough to reach with his hands around my body and to come
closer to me. I closed my eyes as I was expecting him to kiss me, but my
lips remained vacant. I opened my eyes, meeting his hesitant gaze. I looked
at him, confused, and then I realized: he wasn't hesitating at all. He was
taking in the moment, us being close, us being together.  This time I
didn't want to think about it at all. This boy pushed my every limit, every
border that I didn't even know existed, and I didn't want to go back
anymore.

I pulled myself into an upright position, as he came closer to meet my
eager lips. There was no hesitation, no ambiguity in his eyes as he
embraced me and we kissed each other, this time very gently, very
carefully. It was still a strange feeling, filled with emotions that I
didn't even know existed so far. Our lips unlocked, finally:

"Good morning," he said, barely stifling a smile.

" 'Morning," I replied, smiling. He was still looking at me, and I was
returning his gaze.

We sat there, grinning at each other like a couple of idiots for a longest
time. He had his hands extended along both sides of my neck, gently
stroking my skin while he was looking at me. And I couldn't look away, lost
in those oceans of blue that he captured me with, once again.

"Is this...real?" he whispered, getting a serious look on his face. I
nodded, my lips curled up in a smile. He remained serious, still looking at
me.

"I don't think this is real. I cannot believe that you are here right now,"
he continued, in a barely audible voice.

"Believe it...because I still can't," I replied stroking his hair. We just
sat there, not saying anything for a minute or two, when he leaned into me
again. His kiss was merely a brush of his lips on mine, but it meant so
much more than any other kiss I had had with any other girl so far. Then he
hugged me, very tightly, and a sigh escaped his lungs.

"I didn't think this much happiness is possible. I don't think I can take
it, Nicki," he whispered in my neck. I smiled silently, gently stroking his
back.

He was right. This many emotions definitely caused an overload of my senses
too, but I loved every second of it! And no, I wouldn't trade it for
anything in the world.

"Yeah...I know," I continued. He pushed himself gently from me, still
sitting in my lap somewhat sideways. I could see a trace of a tear in his
left eye, but his composure was back.

"Do you want some breakfast?" he said with a smile.

"Sure...I would love to," I replied, fighting with a vertigo that suddenly
came upon me.

We both got up and got into the kitchen. It was an unusual feeling for me,
despite the very familiar notions of preparing the breakfast with
somebody. I wanted to sit back and watch Matt do everything, and at the
same time I wanted to hold him and let everything burn to a crisp. Matt was
obviously feeling the same, since he was looking more at me than at the
food that he was pulling out of the fridge. He almost dropped the carton of
eggs, while he was still staring at me.

"Sorry...I'm not used to this," he said, with an adorable combination of
embarrassment and apology.

"It's okay," I smiled back, dissipating his nervousness from the air.

In the end, I ended up making most of the breakfast myself. I didn't mind;
Matt was just finishing up toasting the bread while I was overlooking the
eggs on the stove. He came behind me, and hugged me from behind, placing
his head on my shoulder. I could only grab his hand with one of mine, but I
think that was enough for him. Even when the toaster popped out our slices,
he remained glued to me.

"Hey space cadet...you want to move to the table?" I asked him gently,
looking over my shoulder. He nodded his head, still leaning on me for a
couple of long seconds, before reluctantly unlocking his hands from my
waist. We sat down and started to eat, neither of us saying much. Both he
and I were looking at each other more than we looked at our food. We were
barely half way through our meal when he got up from his chair, leaving his
breakfast unfinished and came to me, clasping his hand around me again from
behind.

"Sorry...I know I'm being silly," he murmured into my neck. I hugged his
arms, embraced around my chest.

"You are not being silly at all, Matt...I want this, too," I replied.

I could sense that he was smiling. It was the way his breath felt different
on my neck, the way his hands relaxed without actually moving. He let go of
me, and we started to clear the table. Such an ordinary thing, and yet it
felt so exceptional, with him tracking my every step from the living room
and back. Finally, we sat back on the couch, embraced in each other's arms,
not saying a word, and being perfectly content. I was stroking his hair,
enjoying the moment that still didn't fit well with the rest in my brain,
but I didn't care at all right now. We had been sitting like that for
almost an hour, when Matt pulled himself up.

"I...I want to show you something," he said, looking almost shyly at me.

I brushed away a strand of his hair that was obscuring his vision. Our eyes
locked for a moment as I was gently caressing his cheek. Again, there was
some hesitation, but for some reason it didn't appear as bothersome as the
ones from several days ago. I kissed him softly, just as an encouragement,
and nodded. He stood up, pulling me on my feet as well, still not letting
his eyes leave mine. Then, he went to the corner of the room, and picked up
his drawing block, which was lying on the floor, next to his bed. He came
back to me, seeming hesitant once more. It was visible in the way he almost
reluctantly held his drawing block in his hand. I hugged him again:

"If you are not ready for it, it can wait," I said, simply.

He looked at me. His eyes went through a kaleidoscope of emotions, anxiety
and uncertainty at first, which soon got replaced with confidence and
determination.

"No...I want you to see this," he said, placing the drawing block on the
table. "This was my way of...expressing myself...and my feelings," he
continued in a deeper tone of voice, as if it was choked by emotions.

He opened the drawing block at the last page. I gasped with surprise.

It was a drawing of me, perfectly capturing my face as I was gazing
somewhere into the distance. I definitely did not expect this. Even though
the drawing was simple, and appeared unfinished, it was unmistakably me. He
captured every crucial line of my face with incredible detail. Then he
flipped to the previous page. Again, a drawing of me, this time in a
different position. I think he draw a picture of me reading. The amount of
detail around my eyes was astonishing; he had captured the tension on my
face flawlessly. Another page, and another drawing, this time of me sitting
down, playing guitar. In that one, my face was hidden, but he concentrated
his work on my hands, drawing a perfect anatomy of my fingers and hands,
veins and forearm muscles. It was as if someone had taken a black and white
photograph of me and printed it in charcoal. His talent was incredible, and
I couldn't believe the amount of time and effort that took to make one of
these drawings, let alone severa
 l!
 of them.

"Matt, this is..." I went mute, as he flipped another page. Me at the gym,
doing curls. His attention to details on the drawing was hard to
believe. Again, the detailed anatomy of the shoulder and arm muscles, while
straining to curl the dumbbell. Somehow he even managed to show the sweat
that was glistening on my biceps, as well as the tension on my face.

Another one, of me being bent over while I was working on something,
probably his car. It was almost as if I was looking at a side mirror image
of my face, as I was apparently studying the part in my hands with great
attention.

The last page, the first one in the drawing block. This time he had placed
some background behind my image, distinctly showing my living room. I could
see the recliner and my guitar in the distance, as he placed a depiction of
my torso, leaning against the doorframe in the foreground of the drawing.

The feeling of being lightheaded crept in my skull again as I started to
slowly shake my head.

Staring at me from the drawing block lying open on the kitchen table, was
my two-dimensional twin, unmistakably depicting my eyes, which were staring
back at me with a piercing gaze. I knew exactly when that had happened as
well. It was the night when we watched movies. Matt managed to convey on
paper, with an unsophisticated media such as charcoal, the moment of that
evening, the feelings that were coursing through my head, the look of
hunger that I had in my eyes.  I bit my lip. This was not the work of a
street artist, drawing portraits to earn his dinner. This was the work of
someone who knew the depths of his soul and the soul of his subject. This
was the work of someone who was in love.

In love...with me.

I turned to him, speechless. He was looking away, not daring to look at
me. I took his hand, and with other I gently lifted his chin so I could
look into his eyes.

"You...did this...?" I nodded towards the drawing block. I still had
trouble forming words. He nodded back, with tears welling into his eyes. I
didn't know what to say, nor could I say anything right then. Instead, I
gently held his head as I leaned into him. I could taste the salt of his
tears on his lips, as we were holding each other. I still couldn't believe
that this gorgeous blue-eyed boy was in my arms, giving himself to me,
loving me. My emotions were threatening to choke me as we were kissing. I
could feel his hands embracing my back as he was leaning into me, seeking
for more. And I was more than happy to oblige. I hugged him, feeling his
face on my shoulder, feeling the silkiness of his hair as I was gently
caressing his head.

We were standing in his living room for a long time, without motion or
sound, just embracing, just holding each other. I was feeling nothing but
pure, calm happiness. Words were unnecessary. All we got to express was
right there, flowing between both of us like a forceful river that both of
us were feeling, carrying powerful emotions between us. Finally he moved,
turning his head to look at me.

My god, those eyes.

The impression of the depth of his pupils was even more emphasized with him
being so close to me.

"You...don't mind it?" he said, looking at me.

My tongue was still unable to form any meaningful words: "Mind...?" left
the unspoken sentence hang in the air, not knowing where his question was
coming from.

"Well...its...it seems a bit...stalk-ish," he said, waving his head towards
the drawing block, still looking somewhat embarrassed.

"No, are you crazy? I love it! I cannot believe that you did that..." words
betrayed me, as I just continued to shake my head, looking at the drawing,
and then sinking my gaze back into his eyes. This time he shed a sly smile,
almost being smug about it.

"I was afraid that you might freak about it...I mean, me using you as a
subject...for all of the drawings," he smirked.

"It feels weird...but I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world," I
looked at him seriously, and then planted another kiss on his lips as
reassurance. It felt good, and more than just good. It felt perfect, as if
something that I was meant to do for a very long time. It felt weird and
wonderful, but yet again, so...right. Matt had relaxed completely in my
arms, leaning into me, letting the kiss muffle all the conversation. This
felt so good, so perfectly in tune with all of my emotions, with all of my
desires. Holding Matt in my arms felt like my purpose in this universe was
fulfilled, just as I had finally reached my goal in life, as I had found
the missing piece of the puzzle, a hole in my soul that had stayed gaping
open for a very long time.


(Matt's point of view)

If I'd known that this much happiness was possible before, I would never
have said that I had ever been happy in my life. Compared to what I had
experienced over the last day or so, everything else faded away into
average. I felt as though I was going to jump out of my skin and shout out
of top of my lungs.

Hayden...kissed me!

A boy...the man of my dreams - kissed me. And my world turned upside down,
and inside out, in a matter of moments.

When he left my apartment that evening, I still could not comprehend what
had happened. All I knew was that the gaping hole that I used to feel
singeing my chest from the inside was gone now, replaced with a wonderful
feeling of warmth, happiness, and jovial bliss that was filling my whole
body with tenderness that was radiating through me. And I could breathe
normally again.

I inhaled deeply, savoring the indescribable feeling that was completely
new to me. It felt as if every pore in my body was open, allowing air to
flow freely into every corner of my being. Laying on my bed, staring at the
ceiling, I was trying to recollect all the events from today, but my mind
was stuck in the loop. All I could remember was the sensations of Nicki's
lips on mine. Everything else was lost in the foggy background of that one
sensation.

Hayden's lips on mine.

Hayden kissing me.

With the stupidest of all grins on my face, I touched my mouth. I still
couldn't believe it, despite all the memories and the slight puffiness of
my lips.

I looked around my seemingly deserted apartment. Hayden had left not even
half an hour ago, and the place looked so hollow without his presence. I
sighed. I didn't want him to leave, but he had to. We were sitting on the
couch, completely relaxed in each other arms, enjoying each other's
presence when his cell phone started to ring. It was his mentor, inquiring
about some lab work. Despite Hayden's efforts to try to explain some
complicated procedure over the phone, his mentor was clearly requesting his
presence. Hayden hung up the phone, biting his lip. He was reluctant to
leave, I could clearly see that. He was sitting up, with his hands between
his legs, clasping his cell phone, looking as tense as a tight string. He
looked up at me, with a mixture of feelings seething in his eyes. I could
see that he was reluctant to leave, that he wanted to stay with me, but
more than everything else, I could see that in his dark eyes there was a
bothersome presence of worry. And I knew
 w!  hy.

He was concerned about leaving me alone. I reached up to his face and
gently brushed his cheek with my fingers, in a reassuring motion:

"I'll be fine. Just go. This is important," I told him.

He smiled faintly, still not relaxing.

"Nicki, I'll be fine. If you want, I can come with you, and sit in the car
until you are done," I continued.

He looked at me. Those dark eyes still had that bothersome presence in
them. I couldn't stand that look, and I knew why I felt so guilty. He had
that look because of all the things that I had done, all the stupid ideas
that I had considered recently and almost turned into reality. I felt
obligated to erase that worry from those eyes forever. I grabbed his face
gently with both of my hands, and looked straight into his eyes:

"I promise I won't do anything stupid...there are too many things that I
don't want to miss now, for anything in the world, to consider doing
something stupid," I finished, locking my eyes on his.

He nodded slowly, and then there was a change in his eyes. They were still
casting glances full of worry and apprehension, but without the previous
intensity that had been burning holes through me. He ran his hand through
my hair, and than smiled.

"Okay."

That was it. The look was gone, the tension had vanished. He stood up and
pulled me up on my feet as well:

"I'm going to my place and take a shower, and then I'll go to the lab to
finish with that stupid research analysis. And then...I'll be back," he
said, placing his hands around my waist and looking at me seriously. I
nodded, suddenly at a loss of words. My previous sentence surprised even
me, with the courage and the level of bravery that even I didn't know that
I had in me, and now I couldn't even muster the words to say that I agreed
with him.

Hayden planted another deep, long kiss on my lips and then he left. I sat
heavily back on the couch, holding my fingertips over my mouth, still
feeling the pressure of his lips on mine, and his feverish gaze upon me
before he turned around and closed the door behind him.


(Hayden's view)

"Are you sure that you are okay?" I heard the voice of my mentor. I snapped
my head toward him. He must have noticed that I was not even looking at the
computer monitor anymore. I was supposed to input some data from my
undergrad research into certain files, but I couldn't bear to stare at the
monitor anymore. The buzzing and the vertigo in my head were just getting
worse. Ever since I had left Matt's place, I'd been feeling more and more
light-headed. After a quick shower at my place I had felt better, just
tired. Now the feeling of lightheadedness was back. The fluorescent light
in our lab wasn't making things any better, either. I was feeling as though
someone was constantly rocking the whole building in slow, deliberate
motions.

"Why don't you go home, and we can finish some other time," my mentor
suggested. I nodded, and slowly got up. It was my idea to work on our
project during the break, when the lab was mostly empty, and now I couldn't
even look at the computer screen without getting nauseated.

"I'll email you the spreadsheets," I mumbled, walking past him, suppressing
the onset of another fit of coughing. He nodded, preoccupied with what
looked like a game of Tetris. I wasn't in the mood to give him grief about
that, so I left.

Driving back home was even worse. It was already night, and I had to pull
over several times to let my stomach settle. And, despite the heat being
turned on at maximum, I was cold. Somehow I managed to get back
home. Without even turning the lights on, I got into my living room and
collapsed on the couch. Shivering, I drifted into a distressed dream while
the room was spinning around me.


(Matt's point of view)


"Okay, Nicki, where are you?" for the tenth time I looked out the window to
the empty street. Time really drags on when you are waiting for someone. It
was already dark, and there was no sign of his white Golf. I was
impatiently fiddling with my cell phone, struggling against the desire to
call him. If he was busy working on his project, he wouldn't appreciate me
calling him. But, on the other hand, it had been too long now. It was past
eight when I decided to call him. And, again, half an hour later, with same
result. He wasn't answering his phone.

At nine I was in front of his house, looking at the un-expected sight. His
car was there! I was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, not knowing
how exactly to figure out what that meant. I shook my head and proceeded to
the front door. Despite the light being on in the kitchen, the house seemed
deserted. Just like that night when I saw him playing his guitar...and
drinking.

With a knot in my throat, I knocked on the front door. Not hearing
anything, I turned the knob. It was not locked, and I stepped into the
foyer.

"Nicki?" I called out, tentatively. There was no answer, and I walked in,
starting to feel that I shouldn't be doing this. In a way, I was
trespassing. This was not my house, and it seemed that Hayden was not
here. Had he taken his other car to school?

I peeked into the kitchen. It was empty. Just like the kitchen, the whole
house emanated the feeling of emptiness and cold.

A sigh coming from the living room startled me so much that I almost
jumped. I sped up to the couch - Nicki was there, still in his jacket. I
knelt next to him, questions burning through my head. Why hadn't he come
back to my place? Why hadn't he called? Was he avoiding me? Had I imagined
all the events of last night and this morning?

I reached out and gently touched his shoulder. He woke up startled, and
grabbed my hand, locking his eyes on me. Even in the darkened room, I could
see his feverish gaze on me, a look that had nothing to do with the one he
had for me when he had left my apartment this afternoon.

"Matt," he whispered, and then his eyes closed again.

"Nicki...what's wrong?" I asked, worryingly. Was he drunk? I looked around
the living room, but I couldn't see any visible signs of alcohol.

"What are you doing here? Go away," he mumbled, letting go of my hand.

I shook my head, in disbelief. I couldn't believe what he said. To
go...away? But...

I placed my hand on his shoulder again, disregarding what I had just heard.

"You shouldn't be here...please leave." He whispered in a coarse voice, not
even opening his eyes.

"What? But..."

"Leave. You cannot be here. Please go away." He mumbled, turning his head
away from me and covering his eyes.

"Nicki..." I started again, but he interrupted me, almost yelling at me:

"Didn't you hear me?...LEAVE! Leave..." He continued in a coarse whisper:
"Please leave..."

I closed my eyes firmly, trying to prevent tears from forming. The feeling
of that ice-cold claw gripping my chest was back, shortening my breath. No,
I must have misheard his words.

There was no way that Hayden...my Hayden ...would say something like that.

I let go of his shoulder, already losing the fight with my emotions. My
Hayden ...Nicki...didn't want me near him anymore? I couldn't bear that. I
stood up in silence, looking at him. He had his hand folded over his eyes,
so I couldn't even look at his face. My blood was humming through my ears
as questions were flying through my mind: "This cannot be happening! Is
this just some sick joke? Does he have an evil twin, who is just tormenting
me? Which Hayden is laying before me now?"

I started to back off from the couch, shaking my head. I simply couldn't
believe what he had said to me. It was just too hurtful, too mean for me to
comprehend that Hayden would be capable of saying something like
that. Hayden, who was always the epitome of empathy? It just didn't make
any sense.

Still backing away from the couch, I knocked over the small table where the
house phone was sitting on. I looked down at the mess, and seeing a
notebook on the floor, I grabbed it. I quickly jotted down a short message
but, not even ten seconds later, with my eyes tearing up, I tore the page
with my note out of the notebook and stuffed it in my pocket. Hayden didn't
care for me. That was the message that I got from him, not even a minute
ago.

I wiped my eyes and looked over to the couch. Uncertainty was still
coursing through me.

Why? Why was he so physical with me this morning only to give me the
coldest of all shoulders right now? Why?

Courtney...was she coming over? Is that the reason why is he chasing me
from his house? Or some other girl? Or...

A thought clasped my heart like an iron claw. It couldn't be.

What if...he was just putting an act last night...to prevent me from...from
finishing what I started last night?

I inhaled unconsciously in surprise at my revelation. No, it couldn't
be... It just can't be... nobody can pretend that well...nobody
would...Nicki would never do something like that to me. Or...

I ran outside. I needed air and, at the same time, I couldn't breathe. I
had to sit down on the porch stairs, heaving for air.

Would Nicki put on such a performance... to save a life? To pull me away
from the edge? Knowing him, and his determination, I could imagine him
doing something like that.

But, then again... How well did I actually know him?

I looked into the darkness above the houses, feeling that my lungs were
still lacking air. In a way, it made perfect sense. But on the other
hand... I couldn't associate the tender touch, the gentle hold, the fiery
kisses that he gave to me, and the passion that I had felt when I was with
him. Things were just not connecting in my head. It was as if there were
two Hayden, twins who had completely separate lives from each other.

I was so immersed in my thought that the ringing of my phone almost made me
jump. Without even looking to see who it was, I answered it.

"Matty, where the hell are you? Your dad and I have been expecting you here
since yesterday! Don't tell me that you are driving here instead of
flying," I got an earful from my mother even before I collected my thoughts
enough to recognize who it was at all. My brain was still floating in the
limbo of the recent events. It took me almost half a minute to collect my
bearings to answer to her.

"Mom...what are you talking about?" I managed to push through my
constricted throat.

"Aren't you coming home for Christmas?" she asked, genuinely surprised.

"No...I'm still here," I replied, desperately trying to collect myself.

"What? Last time we talked you were telling me how much you love us all and
that hopefully we'll see each other soon, and now you are telling me that
you are not coming? What is going on there?"

I bit my lip, trying to suppress tears. Those were my words, and I had
meant every single one of them... but in a different context. I had said
all that not even an hour before I went to Hayden's house, and they had a
completely different meaning back then. Now, they were a burden that needed
explanation or...

"Matty? Son, is everything all right?"

The totally different tone in my mother's voice finally pushed the tip of
my emotional scale. I needed someone for support, I needed my family. I
felt horridly lonely here, hundreds of miles away from home, with nobody to
understand me.

"No...I'm coming back home," I croaked.


(Hayden's point of view)


"Well, Mr. Faulkner, that is some nasty pneumonia you got there," said our
school physician after listening to my chest. I had a hard time suppressing
the coughing while he was listening.  "And you are running quite a fever as
well. Since we don't have a radiology suite here, I'm going to refer you to
get some x-rays done at the hospital. In the mean time, I'll write you a
prescription for the antibiotics and cough medicine. Get some rest, take
the meds and I'll see you in two days. Is Friday at nine good for you?"

I slumped back on my feet from the exam table. I was still feeling queasy
and weak.

"Two days? You probably meant Thursday then," I replied after thinking for
a while.

"No, I meant Friday. We are closed on Thursday. Today is Wednesday,
Mr. Faulkner," the doctor said, looking at me over the brim of his
glasses. I was still looking at him. "He is wrong," I thought to myself; "I
was at the lab yesterday-Monday, working on that project."

He must have seen me staring blankly at him, so he grabbed the newspapers
from his desk and tossed them onto the exam table for me to see the date
below the headlines.

It was indeed Wednesday, the 24th. Crap - I had spaced out an entire day,
and I hadn't even noticed id. How did that happen? I walked out of the
office, still confused. Soon I joined Scott, who had given me a ride here.

"You are not going to die on me, are you?" he asked, with a quizzical look
on his face.

I shook my head. I still couldn't talk very well; and my chest hurt like
hell just to breathe.

Everything started this morning when I woke up, at the crack of dawn,
coughing and in pain. And I knew I was running a fever as well; I was
sweaty and cold at the same time, with shivers coming from deep within. I
couldn't get warm at all, despite the hot shower that I took, feeling pain
going through my chest with every move I made. It hurt even to breathe. I
remembered vaguely drifting in and out of sleep through the night,
searching for a blanket. And I was still feeling very exhausted and weak. I
tried to call Matt, but he was not answering. After several attempts, I
gave up. I couldn't think straight enough to figure out where he was, or
why he was not answering my phone call. I felt like I was swimming in a
dazed fog. After realizing that I was in no shape to drive, I called
Scott. At first, he couldn't recognize my voice, being so coarse and
screechy. He took me to a doctor, and now we were driving back to my
place. But it was still bothering me that Matt was not respo
 n!  ding to any of my phone calls. We were almost back at my house when I
told Scott to take me to Matt's place. He was grumbling and complaining,
something about not being my chauffeur, but I ignored his
grouchiness. Scott owed me more than just a ride, plus he was always
complaining about something anyways. I was being more worried about Matt
and the fact that I had left him alone.

Alone.

Shit.

All of a sudden, a sense of urgency came upon me, swarming me with the need
to be at his place as soon as possible. Scott had barely stopped the car
when I opened the door and stumbled out, coughing as I ran clumsily up the
stairs to Matt's apartment. I rang the doorbell, and knocked several times
with no answer.

"Can I help you?" I heard a voice behind me, from the bottom of the
stairs. I turned around, seeing an older woman, holding the mail in one
hand and keys in other.

"I'm looking for Matt, ma'am...do you know where he is?" I asked, trying to
be polite over the urge to break-in into what appeared to be part of her
house.

"Why, he went home. Took his car and all -" -she tried to explain, but I
interrupted her, hastily:

"Do you know when he will be back?" I asked, descending the stairs.

"Young man, I am not sure that he will be back. He said something about not
coming back to school here," she finished, looking displeased with my
interruption.

I shook my head in disbelief: " -Why he would... he cannot leave... we
are..." I started to cough, and couldn't stop for a while. She waited
patiently for me, then she continued:

"He left, dear. I believe he wanted to be home for Christmas, that sounds
right to me."

"Did he leave an address, or a note...for me?" I asked. I started to have
this feeling that my heart was rapidly sinking.

"All I have is his home phone number; he gave it to me when he first moved
in. And you are...?" she looked at me sternly. I realized that I was being
rude and too abrupt in my inquiries.

"Hayden... Faulkner...I'm one his friends from school," I introduced myself
between fits of coughing. She relaxed a bit, and we started to talk. I was
hiding my impatience well, but a couple of minutes later I had to remind
her about my question. She disappeared into the house and came back a
minute later, with Matt's home number, written in his neat handwriting on a
piece of paper. I thanked her, and returned to Scott, who was waiting for
me in the car. Ignoring the puzzled look on his face, I told him to take me
home. I needed to call Matt, as soon as I could get some privacy.

Scott was attempting to be servile when we got back to my place. I was
trying to hide my impatience as much as I could, as he was pulling my
medications from the pharmacy bag and placing it all on the kitchen
counter.

"Really, man...you look like crap," he continued, moving the small notebook
that was in his way from the counter, making space for the various pill
bottles and the bottle of cough syrup. I was watching him mechanically, not
even listening to him. Matt was...gone? That didn't make any sense. I was
biting my chaffed lip, not finding any answers.

"I hope that it isn't contagious, whatever you have," Scott went on, waving
with the notebook in my direction. Something was odd about that image,
about that notebook. I jumped on my feet and grabbed the notebook from his
hand.

"Where did you find this?" I asked him abruptly.

"Here on the counter... what is your problem? You need to relax and take
your meds," he grumbled, going into the kitchen. I wasn't listening to
him. I turned around, looking at the spot where that notebook was supposed
to be - underneath the house phone, acting as a silencer for its ringer. It
was there ever since I had moved in, and realized how loud the house phone
was. The notebook was the perfect size, muffling the phone's obnoxious
ringer to a tolerable level. And now it was sitting on the kitchen counter?

I opened it up. The first page was torn out, with barely visible traces of
pen imprinted on the rest of the pages. I never used this notebook for
anything, and now there were obvious traces of someone's writing in it. I
went to the work desk and grabbed a pencil. I started tracing the pencil
over the paper with very light pressure, just enough to shade the imprinted
page of the notebook. The letters started to appear in the grooves of the
paper. Letters, unmistakably written in Matt's stylish handwriting. My
hands began to shake.

"Scott." I called coarsely. He showed his head from the kitchen, chewing on
something:

"What?" he mumbled, his mouth full.

"I need you to drive me to the airport," I said to him.


(Matt's point of view)


My dad picked me up from the airport. Apparently he volunteered for it, so
that my mom could stay home. I knew that he wasn't too keen on mom's
always-over-the-top preparations for Christmas, so I guess this was a
pleasant getaway for him. I put on my best fake smile when he hugged me,
and then we got into the car and drove home. He was curious about all my
experiences at school, but I was not in the mood for talking. He maintained
the conversation on our way home, with me barely saying anything. I guess
that he didn't notice that I was more in the mood to listen to the music
that was playing on the car stereo. My dad was in the middle of the story
about one of our neighbors and his new big screen TV, when I realized that
I was actively listening to the lyrics of the song that was playing on the
car CD, instead of paying attention to his story. I didn't catch the very
beginning of the song, but the lyrics grabbed my attention, fading my dad's
voice in the background. It was u
 n!
 unfamiliar female singer, singing slowly with the piano in the background:

"...  I do not want to be afraid I do not want to die inside just to
breathe in I'm tired of feeling so numb Relief exists I find it when I am
cut-"

"Are you listening to me at all?" I heard my dad's voice. Without even
looking at him, I pointed towards car's stereo: "Who sings this?"

He paused for a second to grab the cd case from the door pocket: "Its your
mother's CD...  "Plumb". She left it there last time we went out. You
listen to them?" He asked me, not taking his eyes off the road.

I didn't answer him. Something in the singer's voice struck a cord in me,
especially when she started to sing again:

"...I may seem crazy Or painfully shy And these scars wouldn't be so hidden
If you would just look me in the eye I feel alone here and cold here Though
I don't want to die But the only anesthetic that makes me feel anything
kills inside I do not want to be afraid I do not want to die inside just to
breathe in I'm tired of feeling so numb Relief exists I find it when I am
cut -"

I shut off the car stereo, with an almost violent motion of my hand. My dad
shot me a surprised look, but now I was looking through the window, my eyes
avoiding contact with him. I knew why I had reacted like that. The song
reminded me how fragile I was right now, and how little it would take for
me to lose it completely. And I couldn't do that. Not in front of my
father.


We arrived home shortly after that, him still trying to keep the
conversation flowing . He parked the car in front of our house, and we got
in. I welcomed the feeling of home, the coziness and familiarity of every
nook and cranny. In my absence, my parents had decorated the house as usual
for Christmas; there was even a tree in the living room. I looked at it and
smiled. The feeling of relaxation flushed over me, washing away the anxiety
and troubled thoughts that were hanging above me like a dark cloud. It was
Christmas, I was back home, and everything was going to be fine. I looked
around. Everything was exactly how it was when I had left, which was
perfect for my distressed mind. "I don't need changes right now. I need
stability," I thought to myself. And my home was the same as always, a rock
in the storm. And it smelled good, too. Mom was cooking - and it permeated
the whole house with an aroma of baked goods. She entered the living room
and gave me the warmest of the hu
 g!  s - God, it was good to be back!

After I settled in, we sat down around the table for a home-cooked dinner,
my first in a long time. But even though everything looked good and smelled
even better, I could barely eat any of the morsels of food on my plate. I
tried desperately to pretend that I was eating and paying attention to my
parents' conversation, even though I felt as if in daze. Luckily, we soon
finished dinner and cleared the table. My parents wanted to go out, but I
was not in the mood to do anything. They were pretty surprised that I
didn't even want to call Mary, but they attributed that to my tiredness
from the trip. They went to the movies, and I went upstairs. My room was
the same as I hadt it, almost six months ago. I barely unpacked my bag; I
hadn't even bothered to turn my cell phone back on since I had got off the
plane. I wasn't in the mood to do anything, so I just lay on my bed,
looking at the ceiling.

I was back at home, where everything was in order, far away from all the
frenzy of the previous semester. Far away from the madness, the parties,
the lack of sleep and stressing over the exams. It seemed so far away now,
almost like a dream. But what I was feeling inside was reassuring me that
at least one part of all that was real, and it still held a firm grip in my
chest.

Hayden.

I clenched my jaw. Even after traveling all this distance, even after
settling in back in my home, where everything was in place and in order, my
chest was still feeling cramped and desolate at the same time. I still
didn't know what to think about the whole thing that had happened not even
two days ago. I felt confused, left without any answers to my enigma, or
any logical answer that would give me an idea what had actually happened.

Hayden kissed me. And, the very next day, he chased me away, being almost
coldhearted and insensitive about it.

I tightened my fists. I wasn't bitter, or angry. I was actually surprised
by the lack of any emotions that thought I was supposed to feel. Should I
be angry? Hurt? Resentful? Any of those would be suitable but, instead, I
was just feeling drained and empty inside. I just didn't understand, and I
was perplexed by the whole situation, which seemed more and more bizarre as
time went by. However, the seeming lack of emotions allowed me to think and
to place everything in order, with nothing but cold, hard logic in mind.

Hayden had done something that not a lot of guys would do. Whatever his
motive was, he had crossed that bridge. That probably scared him, and
possibly he was afraid that I would out him as being gay to his friends. So
he probably decided to cut even the smallest of possibilities of that
happening, and that meant to cut me from his life. I sighed: "It just
wasn't meant to be, Matthew. Deal with it. The sooner you get over it, the
sooner you will get on with your life." I rolled onto my side, pulling the
comforter over me. "At least I know that I probably won't be going back to
school, at least not to the same one," I thought, drifting into sleep.

The next morning I woke up late, finding my parents already gone. Knowing
my mom, she dragged my dad to do some last-minute shopping, which he hated,
but complied with every year. I strolled into the kitchen, where I found
the platter that my mom had made for me from last night's leftovers. I
still wasn't hungry, but I took a bite. "Get over it," I though to myself,
making myself eat. As I was munching on the tasty sandwich, I heard the
doorbell. Still chewing on the last morsel of food, I opened the door.

"Well, look who decided to come back and not even to bother to tell his
best friend that he was here," Mary scolded me, before she even came in. I
hugged her, and let her in.

She settled in, as I was making another sandwich for her, and trying to
figure out thee brand-new coffee maker that my parents had got while I was
gone. After several attempts, I got it going, and then I turned to Mary,
who was sitting on the other side of kitchen counter.

"Well?" she asked.

"Well what?"

"How does it feel to be back at home, after being away for so long?" she
continued. I sensed that there was more that she wanted to ask me, but I
decided to play along.

"Oh, it's actually quite relaxing. Just the fact that everything is exactly
how I left it is...priceless," I placed a couple of mugs on the counter.

"Are you going back?" she asked in very level tone of voice. I looked at
her in a surprise:

"Why are you asking that?"

She shifted the coffee mug from one place of the counter to another, for no
apparent reason: "Well, when I talked to you a couple of days ago, you were
talking about everything but school, which is odd for a college
student. Then I ran into your parents last night at the bar, of all
places. Your mom told me that you look horrible and depressed, that you
barely eat or speak. That doesn't sounds like a happy college student,
coming back home for Christmas. So... are you going to tell me what is
going on or not?" she asked, this time leaving no space for any rebellious
defensive move from my side. I just looked at her:

"Crap, and I thought that I was doing a pretty good job hiding of my good
mood," I snarled sarcastically. I was really pissed that my parents had
noticed that something was wrong, and the thought that they had sent Mary
here to dig out the truth from me was almost humiliating. Why couldn't
everybody just leave me alone?

"Nope," she said, pouring milk in her mug. For a good couple of minutes
there was a heavy silence in the kitchen. I was just looking at my coffee,
not even knowing what to say or where to begin.

"Listen, if you don't want to talk about it, its fine. I'm just hoping it's
related to actual school, and not to..." she didn't even have to finish. I
twitched as if she had physically stabbed me with an ice pick.

"Not to what?" I looked at her defiantly. All of a sudden, emotions started
to rush in me. For some reason, I felt the need to be defensive, protective
about my emotions. Mary looked at me, and than she sighed: "I was afraid
that this might happen...you were just not ready. Dealing with school and
the emotional rollercoaster with Hayden was too much for you. I tried to
warn you, but something like that is hard to avoid. I'm sorry, kiddo."

I swallowed the lump in my throat.  "It's not that bad...It's not as if I
have a broken heart...it's just that this is something that I'm not used to
going through, and I need some time off," I finished, still looking at my
cup. Even to myself that sounded hollow and untruthful.

"Did you tell him?"

I nodded my head:" Yeah...and I kind of made a scene. I totally lost it,
one night at his place. I told him in the worst way possible, screaming at
him because I was so upset."

"Wow...was he okay with it? How did he take it?"

"I don't know. That is the thing - I don't know. I thought that I knew him,
at least for that much, but he..." I paused, looking for words that were
not coming to me. Emotions were swirling in my head, making it difficult to
concentrate.

"He doesn't fit in normal files. He is very...different, complex, and
intelligent, so it is hard for me to figure him out. I don't know where I
am with him at this time," I finished, finally looking at her.

"And you still...have feelings for him?"

I looked at her. The storm of emotions in my head suddenly stopped,
crystallizing into a single thought, in a moment of clarity:

"Yes. More than ever."


(Hayden's point of view)


"I'm sorry, sir, but there are no seats on any of the flights leaving to
Kansas. The first available seat will be on the flight leaving on Friday
afternoon," the girl at the ticket counter informed me. I sighed. I had
flown into Missouri, with no way to get out of there for at least a day or
so. All the flights were booked - it was Christmas and everybody wanted to
go home. I looked around in desperation; I was not about to give up, but
there was not much I could do at this moment. I glanced down the airport
lobby and smiled: there was a rent-a-car counter at the far end of the row
of airport mall stores. Half an hour later, I tossed my bag in the back
seat of the gray Impala and got behind the wheel.  "I might be driving all
night, but at least I'm making some progress," I thought to myself,
starting the engine. On the seat next to me there was a box from the sports
store in which I had stopped while waiting for my rental car. I smiled to
myself, caressing the firm edge of the box while negotiating the heavy
traffic that was leaving the airport. Soon, I was on the highway, speeding
into the night.


(Matt's point of view)


Mary and I had talked almost all day yesterday. When my parents came back
home, we took off, and basically walked around town, sight seeing and just
people watching. I still had to do all of my Christmas shopping, so I
dragged Mary with me to get something for my parents and other
family. Finally, we sat down in one of the local coffee shops and got some
food with our coffee, just resting and talking for a while. Despite the
fact that everything looked the same in my town, I didn't feel the same. I
felt grown up, and older. It was a bit like finding your favorite toy,
after years of being lost. It felt as if I needed to shake off my
childhood, and start being a grown up. I sighed. Suddenly I felt really old
and tired. Mary smiled at me:

"Well, we need to get you back home; your mom is probably expecting you to
be on time for Christmas dinner."

"Wow, I completely forgot about that! We need to go - fast," I ushered her
from her seat as I paid for our coffee, and we sped back to my place.

Mary stayed with us for dinner. We had a good time, and after we were done,
I joined my mom and Mary in the kitchen, where they were stowing the
leftovers. My dad showed up to get some coffee, and for a moment the
kitchen was filled with people. I leaned against the counter, listening to
everybody chat about nothing in particular. My dad was complaining about
shopping with mom and how long it took to get to each and every store. Mom
just rolled her eyes, handing him his coffee. It was the usual joyful
Christmas evening, but there was a sense of tension in the air, hanging
like a thin veil. And I knew what it was. I decided that it was not fair to
my parents to keep them in the dark anymore. I cleared my throat, and in
that second everything in the kitchen went quiet, and everybody looked at
me. I realized that they were all expecting this moment, from the moment my
dad picked me up. I looked up to them. I knew I had to tell them
everything; they were my parents and they neede
 d!
 to know about what had been going on with me.

They took it well. I wasn't disclosing too many details; my mom already
knew about my friendship with Hayden, although the revelation of my
feelings to him was a surprise to her. Both of my parents were
understanding, but both of them were also very adamant that I should stay
in school. At that point I didn't want to argue with them, so I let that go
by. The situation with Hayden was messed up enough as it was, and even
presenting the very basic version took a lot of energy out of me.

Some time later, I joined my dad in the living room, leaving my mom and
Mary to chat in the kitchen. He was watching some old comedy reruns, which
we all had seen a million times. I sat down on the couch where he was
sitting and sipping his coffee. We were just watching TV for a while, when
he broke the silence:

"Matt, I know it is very hard for you to go through your life since it is
more difficult than for the rest of your friends. And I knew that going so
far away from home would not be easy on you, and that things may not be
turn out the way you expected. Your mother and I decided that it would be a
good experience for you to go and try. I still think that you'll be better
off going to school here; I don't think you made a mistake, and I still
think that you should try to finish it where you started it. And as far as
your relationship...," he paused briefly, taking another sip from his mug-
"- things like that will always come up during your life. Obstacles and
problems are part of life, and you have to make it work, along with
everything else. It seems like this Hayden is a really good guy, and I
think that you should try to maintain your friendship with him, but if it's
going to be that difficult for you to concentrate on important stuff then
maybe it will be better for you to
 c!  ome back home."

I nodded, not saying anything. This was one of those rare "Father-son
speeches", and I was feeling the heaviness of it. But he continued, in a
much lighter tone:

"So, is he good looking? Did you find any other hot...um, guys over there?
Any leads?"

I had to shake my head and smile at his antics. He was trying so hard!

"No, dad...he was the only one that messed up my life," I chuckled, and he
smiled back. The tension in the room was disappearing rapidly as I heard
someone else walk in the living room.

"Do you have a picture of him?" I heard Mary's voice behind me.

"Yeah, Matt, can we at least see what the guy who 'messed up your life'
looks like?" my dad chimed in, mocking me a bit. My mom joined us, wiping
her hands with a towel, looking with anticipation at me just as the rest of
them.

"I - I don't...I don't have any pictures of him," I answered,
embarrassed. My eyes were darting from Mary to my parents and back. That
simple question really threw me off guard.

"What! All this time! Almost five months you were there, and you couldn't
take one picture of him, even with a cell phone? I don't believe that,"
Mary shook her head in disbelief. My mom joined in, with a fake expression
of disapproval on her face. My dad was already flipping through the
channels with a remote; at least he was not going to partake in this game.

But Mary didn't want me to get off the hook that easily. She grabbed a
piece of paper from the printer and came back, placing a pencil, the paper,
and a large book in my lap to serve as a drawing board. I looked back at
her, discontented.

"Come on...like a good boy," she ushered me, in a very mid-school
teacher-like voice, pointing towards the blank paper. I glanced over to my
mom, looking for help, but she was clearly on Mary's side in this case. I
sighed in resignation, and started to draw.

Minutes passed by without me even noticing. I felt as if fallen into a
daze, pulling an image of Hayden from my brain, one of the hundreds that
were burned into my mind. My surroundings faded away, the drone of the TV,
the conversation between my mom and Mary - everything was pushed somewhere
in the background, becoming nothing more than white noise. The pencil was
almost completely dull when I finished with some final shading, lifting my
head and discovering that now I had some serious pain in my neck from being
craned for so long. I looked at the drawing for a very long time, and
sighed with a very long, deep, breath. Every time I finished one of my
drawings I felt a sense of completion but, when it came to drawings of
Hayden, I felt something more than that. There was a feeling as if a part
of him was present, almost as though he was there with me. It was a
shadowy, non-descriptive feeling, similar to the one when I came back into
my dorm room filled with the smell of his
 c!  ologne, emanating from his jacket. A vague feeling of closeness to
him, without him being actually there.

"Wow," I heard a whisper behind my back. It startled me, as I had fallen
almost into a trance. I looked behind me. My mom joined Mary as she was
looking over my shoulder at the drawing.

"He is a handsome one," my mom agreed, looking carefully. Mary nodded in
approval, and then asked me to show my drawing to my dad. He just shrugged
his shoulder; to him, it was just a picture of a guy. Unfazed, he continued
to watch TV.

The rest of the night went by uneventfully. Mary left around nine, and I
stayed and continued to watch TV with my parents for the next hour or so,
when I started to feel tired and sleepy. I bid my parents good night and
went upstairs to my room, carrying my drawing with me, acting almost
protective about it. I knew that my parents wouldn't do anything with it,
far from that; I just wanted it with me in my room.

Upstairs it was cold, so I changed quickly. Shivering, I got into my bed,
leaving the reading lamp on for a while. From my bed I could see the
drawing, laying on the nightstand underneath the lamp. I stared at it for a
long time.

Then, somewhere deep within me, something broke. Now that I had told my
parents, I felt that I could finally relax and let my emotions take
over. Something inside me clawed its way out, and I couldn't hold it
anymore. Tears started to roll down my face, feeling almost as if they were
burning their traces down my cheeks on their path from my closed eyes.

(Hayden's point of view)

"Damn it, Hayden, concentrate!" I yelled at myself after almost plowing
into a snow bank on the side of the road. It was very late, and I had been
fighting off sleep for the last couple of hours. Driving was even more
difficult with the snow falling in thick, heavy flakes. The highway had
already been cleared once, but new snow already covered the pavement,
making it difficult to see clearly the edges of the road. I was torn
between my desire to get there as fast as possible, and resting. Another
onset of drowsiness made me decide to pull over in the nearest rest stop
and take a break. Sometimes an hour of sleep means a lot, even though I
really wanted to be done with driving by morning. I glanced at the map that
I bought from the previous gas station: more than two hundred miles to
go. I sighed, resisting the temptation to get back on the road. The road
conditions were already pretty dangerous, and I didn't need to push my luck
any further by battling fatigue. I gathered my
 j!  acket from the back seat and shut the engine off. Falling asleep, I
smiled, thinking about the conversation that I had had with Scott before
leaving:

"You must be out of your mind," he was shaking his head, pulling my bag
from the back seat of his car, "You are barely in any condition to stand,
and yet you want to fly? Lunacy, if you ask me," he was shaking his head in
disbelief.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But that's why I have you to help me out," I
interrupted his litany. "Just go online when you get back home and find
what I asked you, okay?"

"Okay," he mumbled, still looking at me as if I had gone mad.

"Thanks, buddy, I owe you one," I hugged him and then I went into the
airport terminal.

Indeed, when I called him back several hours later, he had all the
information that I needed. I jotted it all down while driving, not finding
a better place than the lid of the box that I had got from the sports
store.  Now my note, scribbled on the inside of the cardboard lid, was my
only lead to try to fix the very wrong thing that I had done. "If I can fix
it at all," I thought to myself, half-heartedly.

My cell phone woke me up a couple of hours later. I shut the alarm, and
looked around. It was cold, my breath was forming vapor inside the car. And
the car itself was covered with snow as well. I started the engine, and
then I got out to clear the windows and to stretch a bit. It was very early
in the morning, and it was still very dark. I got back in and carefully got
back on the highway. It had stopped snowing, but there was a blanket of
snow on the road, requiring careful driving. I took a sip of the cold
coffee that was still sitting in the paper cup from the previous night,
resisting the voice in my head that was urging me to drive faster.

Several hours later, when daylight was attempting to break some light
through the thick clouds, I entered the town, snowed in just as rest of the
countryside. I followed the instructions that Scott gave me over the
phone. Half of the street signs were plastered with snow, making it
impossible to read, but, after a couple of wrong turns, I managed to find
the right street, and now I was inching away along the row of sleepy houses
covered with snow. It was Christmas morning, and it was still too early to
expect that anybody would be out. I was driving slowly, counting houses and
numbers until I found the one I was looking for. I stopped the car in front
of a nice two-story home. All of a sudden, I felt really nervous. This was
the end of my quest, hopefully. However, that did not mean that the problem
was solved. I inhaled deeply: "Well, this is it, Hayden. It's either going
to go well, or it's going to be a true disaster." I got out of the
car. Either way, I knew I had to do t
 h!  is. I climbed several steps to the front door and rang the bell once,
with my heart beating hard in my chest.

A couple of minutes passed, and then I heard footsteps. A female voice
called behind the door, but I couldn't understand what was said. The door
opened, and now I was standing in front of a good-looking woman in her
forties, dressed in comfortable but still appealing clothes. This was
someone who was always looking presentable, no matter if it was even just
as she opened the door to a complete stranger on a very cold Christmas
morning.

"Yes? How may I help you?"

I opened my mouth, but for a second I couldn't say a single word. I had a
vague idea of what to say, but the moment she laid her eyes on me, that
idea got washed away from my mind.

Her eyes. She had Matt's eyes.

Now she was looking at me more carefully, almost as though she was
recognizing some details on me, just like meeting someone again after
decades of being separated.

My ability to speak returned, and I managed to utter a sentence, that
sounded ridiculous even before I said it out loud:

"My...my name is Hayden...I- I would like to speak to Matthew, if he lives
here..." my voice died down, in a futile attempt to suppress the coughing
that came back to me.

The woman was still eyeing me carefully, not saying a word, still holding
the front door of the house with one hand. I became painfully aware of my
appearance, the fact that I hadn't shaven or showered in more than a day,
that my clothes were in a disheveled mess from traveling and sleeping in
the car, as well as that my rental car behind me was a filthy mess from the
sleet that I had driven through. I bowed my head, trying to suppress
another episode of coughing, when I heard some slight shuffling. I looked
up. The woman had the house door open fully now, and there was a trace of
smile on her face.

"Why don't you step inside first, and then we'll see what we can do for
you," she said, letting me in. The inside of the house was pleasantly warm,
and I welcomed the feeling of coziness in it. The woman gave me another
thorough look, and then she turned around and started going up the stairs
to the second floor. I was looking after her, seeing something on her that
I had seen before. The squared shoulders, straight back and gracious moves
that the woman exhibited in her step was very familiar to me. The feeling
of anxiety upsurged in me, despite the feeling of accomplishment that I had
been experiencing ever since I pulled over in front of her house.

She came back down stairs only moments later, with a very neutral
expression on her face, and joined me in the hallway, not saying another
word. The nervousness in me started to boil, especially when I heard a door
upstairs close, and then I heard a shuffling of clothes as a figure
appeared at the top of the staircase.

(Matt's point of view)

" Matthew, someone is here to see you," I heard my mom's gentle voice. I
opened my eyes, seeing her looking at me with a very strange expression on
her face. First of all, since when I was "Matthew" for her? Secondly, that
tension on her face was disturbing enough that I got up only moments after
she had left my room. I rubbed my eyes, wondering if this was just an
elaborate plot of my parents to get me downstairs to open the presents. Yet
still... If Mary was here, she would barge into my room with barely a
knock, and my mom would let her in the house without necessity to announce
her. Shaking my head, I got out of bed and walked down the corridor towards
the stairs. I started to descend down a couple of steps when I stopped dead
in my tracks.

Suddenly, it became hard to breathe.

I blinked, but the mirage was still defiantly there, standing in the
hallway next to my mom. I was holding the staircase rail with my hand, not
even noticing that I was squeezing it so hard that my fingers were hurting.

Hayden was looking at me, not saying a word. There were so many emotions in
his eyes that I couldn't bear to look at him. And yet, I couldn't tear my
eyes from his. We were both just standing there, with our eyes locked for
very, very long time. It seemed as if an eternity had passed when I noticed
a tear forming in his eye, making me snap from my daze. As if in a dream, I
took a couple of heavy steps down the stairs, not even looking where I was
going. At the same time, Hayden moved from the spot where he was standing,
and simply flew upstairs to me, embracing me in his arms, his gentle strong
arms that I was longing for.

In disbelief, I clutched onto him, holding my breath. Hayden...my
Nicki...is here?

In a moment I had the familiar feeling that everything around me was
disappearing and fading away, and that there was nothing around me except
Hayden, his arms around me, his strong body pressed tightly next to mine,
and his head on my shoulder. My whole body shuddered, and slowly descended
onto the stairs, not capable of holding itself anymore from the rush of the
emotion that was coursing through me. Hayden kneeled in front of me, still
not letting me go, whispering something in my ear. His voice was so muffled
and hoarse that I couldn't understand him at first, as he was pulling
himself slightly away so he could look at me. He spoke again, and this time
I could comprehend what he was saying.

"I'm sorry...I am so sorry, Matt..."

I couldn't speak either, my emotions were choking me. I felt as though I
was melting, dissolving in his arms. This was too much, and I couldn't
speak. I couldn't tell him anything at this moment. I could do only one
thing, impulsive and without even thinking about it. Our lips met, and I
felt the same familiar feeling of every pin that was holding me together
being pulled out, as he was kissing me, kissing me again, my Hayden was
here and he is kissing me.

It took us forever to unlock our lips and to look again at each other. The
same worried, unbearably worried look was in his eyes, in those oceans of
deep fire that were penetrating into my soul. Still choked with emotions, I
couldn't speak, and he was remaining silent as well. I grabbed his head
with my arms, locking my eyes into his. The concern in his eyes was not
leaving; it was not going away, still singeing me with its intensity.

I heard clatter in the kitchen downstairs, making me to glance down, over
Hayden's shoulder. My mom had disappeared from the hallway. She was
probably in the kitchen, making coffee. I returned my gaze toward
Hayden. He understood me, and we both stood up, him still holding me. I
gave him one long look and, grabbing his hand, I started to descend the
stairs, with him behind me. With my heart choking me with its beats high in
my throat, both of us got to the kitchen doorway. Both of my parents were
there, and both of them instantly stopped what they were doing. My mom
turned around, leaving the coffee pot on the counter so she could face us,
while my dad placed the newspapers that he was reading on the kitchen
table. In the silence that consumed the kitchen, my voice sounded as if it
had pierced the space, sounding unfamiliar and distant even to myself:

"Dad...Mom...this is... this is Hayden," I said simply.




End of ch 16



As always, the Yahoo Group is always open for criticism and comments - it
is there for you to vent about the storyline, long breaks in between the
chapters and updates.

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/rip_tide/

Take care

HF