Date: Sun, 01 Dec 2002 01:24:17 -0500
From: Stabbing Westward Junkie <youarenotyourf_ckingkhakis@hotmail.com>
Subject: Dylan Thomas By The Dying Light - Chapter Two

	Our dorm borders on a fringe of wooded area that haphazardly surrounds the
entire University, the pine trees a ragged line several miles deep closing
in on the mouldering buildings. Relatively flat, the valley, as we call it,
makes for great walking terrain where one can lose all sense of time and
reality. You can go in there at midday and then come back out after sundown
and not feel the time at all. Something about the trees, the scent on the
air, and the feeling of solid, ancient earth underfoot lends towards deep
introspective thought; a place where all deception and treachery is put
aside for solitude. It is a crisp autumn day when I enter the woods; the sun
is low on the horizon, the end of the day beckoning it back down into its
hidden slumber for another night. The valley is filled with a surreal
twilight glow, the trees becoming elongated giants in the strange
half-light.

	Their branches stretch widly and with abandon towards the muted sky, a
myriad of black tangle against a soft blue darkness. I can feel the trees
all around me: a gathering of strange and ancient spirits, speaking
strangely in a language I can hear but never hope to understand. They rise
out of the ground with impassive solidness, their gnarled trunks and jagged
branches seeming to ward off any hope of sunlight to touch the ground and
light my way. No matter -- I've walked around in here too many times to
reasonably count. I've got Shae's old coat wrapped around me: a shapeless
grey mass that is as soft as distilled silk, grungy as a horseblanket and
warmer than a bearskin. He never wears it anymore, not since that day in
woods like these, when we were seventeen. I shiver slightly in it now, not
because I am cold, but because I can feel the darkness of night slowly
seeping into the world, triumphing over the sun once more, lowering the
ability to keep the illusion of safety and normalacy.

	I walk aimlessly, not watching my feet move me along, my eyes locked on
some blank space a few feet in front of me, my thoughts a red rage of
turmoil. It has been two weeks since that unfortunate incident in his truck,
and other than a bit of polite aloofness from him for a few days afterward,
I have not heard a single word spoken about it. Things are back to normal,
except for those moments when I catch him looking at me strangely, and I
return his gaze only for him to quickly look away as though it never
happened. He's had two dance recitals since, and I've been to both, sitting
in the back row, watching helplessly from above as he weaved his magic on
the endless stage. He never knew I was at either of them, but every once and
a while when he was dancing, he would look up and through the shadows at the
back, directly, it seemed, to where I was sitting. I would hold his gaze,
unbeknownst to him, now completely unafraid what might be seen in my eyes
because now he would not be able to see them. And when he would stare back
at me, a small chance of a smile would grace his lips, giving him a look
that was both erotic and sage-like at the same time. Needless to say, I've
been steadily plunging head first into the metaphorical soup-pot of love
with each tiny move he's made.

	Now I don't even realize that I stare longingly at his back during every
class until I am hailed upon by a disaproving professor, and even then I
return back to staring once the sharp eyes and words have left my reality.
While doing homework, I belatedly discover that during class I've scrawled
his name all over my notes, quotes from songs that mirror my frustration and
desire, and half-profiles of his face, seen from a distance and always
surrounded by wreathes of fire. Half the time I throw them out, face
burning, but other times there is nothing I can do but sit there and stare
at them, wondering if I'll ever be able to get over this, while fighting
back those unavoidable tears.

	Sighing softly into the silent air of the valley, I lift my gaze to the
trees, silently beseeching them to whisk me away into the sky and fix me.

	"I'm broken," I whisper to them uselessly. "I'm broken and soon I'm gonna
shatter if I don't find some solid ground somewhere..."

	For long moments I stand there, sightless and soundless, my eyes shut to
the world, my hair falling in touseled strands on my eyelids, my arms
wrapped around myself protectively. I can feel the air seeping through my
jeans, brushing my skin coldy. Under Shae's coat I'm wearing a navy blue
shirt with the words "Cheer Up! The Worst Is Yet To Come!" scrawled across
the front in huge silver letters. It does nothing against the cold that I
can now feel pooling through the jacket to assault me. As I turn to go,
however, I come face to face with Shae, who is standing a few feet behind
me, tall and slender in the night, hands shoved in his pockets and his fair
face lit with the glimmering light of the stars. I blanch in startlement,
and he takes a step forward.

	"Hey... " He says quietly, his voice seeming to echo eerily in the
stillness and mist. His gaze locks on mine as he approaches, and I am frozen
to the spot.

	"Hi," I manage, and pale even further as he looks me up and down, a look of
wonder registering on his features.

	"My coat," he says slowly, and pulls a hand out of his pocket to reach out
and touch it, his fingers gliding down its worn smoothness for a moment
before pulling quickly away again. The look in his eyes stops the thoughts
running in my head. It is a look so suddenly old and weary that it sends a
chill stabbing through me. Regret, for a moment, glistens like tears in his
eyes, brighter than any star and sharper than any blade. A shooting pain
zaps through my chest as I see it, magnified even further by his next words.
"Didn't know you had it."

	Before I can answer to that, however, he has looked away and started
walking slowly. I follow him after a moment, hurrying to catch up with him.
We walk in silence for a while, me concentrating fixedly on our shadows
slithering across the bumps and hollows of the ground, and him staring
straight ahead. I hunch further into the coat, wishing I could just discard
it. His golden hair looks silver in the nightime light, the stars dancing
like fairy dust in the highlights. His eyes look dark, flecked through with
shards of diamond brightness, like two orbs of shattered glass in the night.
The silence soon starts to become heavy and cumbersome, and I am aching to
rid it somehow, but unable to find anything to say. But Shae, as always it
seems, comes to the rescue, by putting out a hand to gently halt me in my
walk, and points at the sky.

	I look up slowly just in time to see a shooting star fly over our heads
with the swiftness of a dolphin in the deepest of waters. Starlight, star
bright, I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight...

	"That's two I've seen tonight," he says softly, gazing contemplatively at
the sky. "Been out looking for you for a while."

	I look back down at him, and he turns to face me, slowly lowering his hand
from barring my way.

	"Why?" I ask wonderingly, watching how the light on his hair seems to drip
onto his cheeks, giving them a metallic glow.

	He shrugs slightly and we continue walking.

	"Haven't seen you all night. Started to get worried."

	I nod, and don't say anything in reply. Nothing to say, really.

	"Did you manage to get that essay finished for McGinn?"

	I sigh as I hear this, and shake my head mournfully. McGinn is my Ancient
Rome Studies professor; I had an essay due today on the highly boring role
of the Heterae in male social circles.
	"Nope," I say, and grin back at his impish smile.

	"Good going," he says philisophically, and runs his hands absently through
his hair. "Maybe that could be a thesis all on its own: the Heterae were
either so vitally important or so completely useless that the topic alone
should be self-explainatory."

	I laugh softly at this, and shake my head.

	"I don't know. Something tells me she won't pick up on the subtleties of
that."

	He grins again, his teeth glittering like ivory in the darkness, and the
smile on his lips is so gently infectious that I grin stupidly back.

	"You'd be better at it than I would. Imagine _me_ trying to explain the
importance of female prostitutes. I'd probably end up with something so
horrible and sexist McGinn would burn her bra off and throw the ashes in my
face."

	I shudder at the thought of my wrinkled old professor burning her bra off,
much less wearing one. Shae watches me do this and laughs, the light, joyous
sound dancing merrily around the ghostly landscape. But yes, Shae... imagine
ME trying to explain the usefulness of any female right now...

	"Well, we're moving into the crazy emperors now, so that should be better
to write about. Lots of murder and mayhem. And poisonings, too. Interesting,
those."

	Shae grins and laughs an evil chuckle.

	"Mmm, yes. Maybe you can explain just how insane Caligula actually was...
hey, maybe even make it a term project to discover the validity behind the
claims that he tried to make his horse a consul!"

	I muse on this for a moment, and then break out into a broad smile.

	"Yeah, and just to make it even more interesting, I could throw a little
science into it and blame his insanity, like all the other wacked-up old
fools, on the lead pipes that their drinking water flowed through. Maybe I
could even use a test subject..."

	Shae's eyes light up with mischeiveious delight, and he nods emphatically.

	"Yeah.... Leia."

	I have to smile at this, even only at his grin and bright, glowing eyes.

	"Or no... wait... she's probably too busy fucking the shit out of her new,
muscular boyfriend..." He adds with a scowl, kicking at a random pile of
dirt at the side of the path as we pass it.

	I sigh, and try not to let my conscience grab too much of my attention. A
lie, yes. But it was a lie to protect our friendship. Sides, at least it
gave him reason to hate her more and not socialize with her anymore than he
has to. I stay silent, gaze on the ground, cheeks flushing. Thank God it's
dark...

	"Don't worry about her, please," I say as lightly as I can, pensiveness
making my eyebrows furrow.

	Shae levels me a pointed look, and shakes his head slowly, shoving his
hands into his pockets again, his movement light and graceful on the moonlit
path. He reminds me suddenly of Legolas from Lord of the Rings, the way his
feet touch the ground with barely a whisper, and the way his body moves
through the air as if he, too, were made of it.

	"Someone's got to. You're obviously not going to treat her the way she
deserves to be, so I've got to lay it on doubly thick."

	His smile erases anything anxious I would have replied with, and we are
walking in companiable silence once more. We are side by side, the sleeves
on our jackets brushing softly against each other, confiding the secrets
long hidden and denied. His hand, although in his pocket, is mere inches
away from mine, a distance that suddenly seems incomprehensible and stupid;
my fingers ache to reach out and find his, be able to hold that glorious
creation once more, and feel his jagged, possessive and protective energy
pulse through me again. I watch him train his gaze on the stars, his
beautiful face caught up in an expression of deep appriciation.

	"It's interesting," he says musingly, glancing over at me momentarily. "The
dependance we have on others. The human being is the epitome of lonliness
and solitude. Being the creatures we are, there is no possible way that
anyone else can truly understand us. We come into the world in a singular
entity, and our minds are our own, as well as our hearts. No-one else can
ever wholly understand them. But yet... we cling to the futile fight of
spending our entire lives simply trying to get others to _understand_.
That's all. To get past all the misunderstood and mixed-up bullshit and
understand that it's really all basic, powerful emotion..."

	His voice trails away on the last word, the tones robed in regretful
cynacism. I know he's basically talking about Leia and I, and it makes me
sigh gently.

	"'Communication is the weakest form of the human condition,'" I quote
dismally, and see him smile sadly out of the corner of my eye.

	"Mmmm," he replies softly.

	"I wonder how many more wars are going to be faught over all this
misunderstanding," I venture slowly. I wonder how much more of a beating my
heart can take, not being able to communicate to you, I tell him silently.
"I wonder if we'll last the next one."

	Shae grins without humour, and shrugs expansively, taking in the trees, the
soil, the sky and the stars.

	"The second Big Bang," he says mildly, and then drops his hands again.

	"Yeah, wouldn't that be great," I grin. "And in millenia to come, some
highly evolved race will chance upon the smouldering remains of our world
stuck in a perpetual neuclear winter, and look at the debris floating around
the sun. They'll see peices of Walmarts, Starbucks, Windows application
programs... and they'll shake their heads and say 'All this floating shit
was blown to peices over _communication_. Those stupid humans. Not quite
able to grasp that empathy is the most basic emotion of the universe. They
were too jacked up and high strung to see it. What a shame...' And then whiz
away again."

	Shae is silent for a moment, and then breaks out into glittering laughter.

	"Oh yes," he chuckles, his eyes sparkling with a brightnes to rival the
brightest star above his head. "Think of all the low, low prices they would
have missed out on at Walmart..."

	I grin helplessly at him, and by some unspoken agreement, we both slowly
come to a halt. The smiles on our faces are huge, goofy. I gaze at him
silently, feeling my heart readying to take flight out of my chest. The
clairvoyant light in his eyes becomes more intense with every second, so
much so that I feel my every thought is heard by him with the clarity of a
yell in an empty space. I want more than anything to slip my arms around his
enticing waist, feel his skin and muscle under my fingers, and smell his
scent. I want to lay my head on his shoulder, and feel him sigh
unconsciously as I hold him close. I want to feel his hair against my cheek
as he lowers his head to kiss my neck, I want to feel his strong hands grip
me tight, relentlessly, desire sparking through his fingertips. All this
builds in my chest, making it feel as though it is about to shatter. My
breath starts to come in jagged gasps, but Shae doesn't seem to notice. He
keeps his gaze trained on mine, and then I feel his hand wrapping around my
wrist, pulling my hand out of my pocket.

	"Wish upon a star, Miah," he says in a velvet whisper.

	He slips his arm in mine, and we are locked as he directs my gaze up to the
sky. I try not to tremble too much as I feel his arm in mine, and look
shakily up to the sky. The stars sparkle eluvsively, maddeningly at me.

	"Maybe this could all change someday... and we could all just tell each
other how we feel..."

	As he says this, he presses my arm close to his side. I look down at him
quickly, wondering with my heart beating wildly in my chest. What did he
mean by that? He keeps his eyes on the sky, but his smile slowly fades, and
the brightness of his eyes dims, turns a complete 180. Suddenly there are
dark, depthless shadows in the blueness of his gaze. A longing suddenly
emerges out of his features, covers his skin in invisible, wanting tears. I
stare at this, shocked into silence. He bites his lower lip slowly, deeply,
and then closes his eyes, the slow movement of his golden eyelashes like a
sunset in slow motion. He is suddenly the perfect picture of sadness, and it
shakes me deeply. Worry floods my heart, and I am about to ask him what is
wrong when he opens his eyes again. The expression flees his face as quickly
as it came, and he is all smiles again as he looks down at me. The smile is
changed however; it is one that is weary and almost forced.

	"We're almost back," he says, and indeed I can see the residence lights
shimmering in the near distance.

	I go to move my arm, but with surprising firmness, he denies me of this and
holds me still closer. I blink and look at him questioningly. But he says
nothing on it, resuming our walk back. Silence falls, one strange and full
of whispering questions.

	"Wish upon a star," I hear him half-whisper, and then the path ends and
we're on the grounds again.


*	*	*	*

	A myriad brainstorm of voices assults my hearing as I sit in the cafeteria
in the residence building, people flowing all around me, the smell of
different foods driving my senses wild. The cafe is always a busy place,
even at nightime; its walls made entirely of glass lends an easy,
lighthearted ambiance to the place which subconsciously draws people into
its lair time and time again. Sunshine pelts down on the glass with a
ferocity that leaves many people blinking disorientedly as they walk in, and
the ones already accomodated to the brilliance simply squinting until their
eyes are almost shut. I am sitting to the side at one of the sterile white
tables, my lunch spread before me and my stack of textbooks making a nice
little footstool off to the side. I look distastefully at the poor excuse of
a meal I have concocted for myself, and sigh disparagingly. Poking
distractedly at the peanut butter sandwich in front of me, (bread gone soggy
by a too liberal application of raspberry jam, and seran wrap decorated in
the sticky brown paste that is the pulverised peanuts) I wonder where Shae
and Brendan are. We'd made plans in our first class to meet up for lunch,
and half of it has already gone by. Needless to say, I am antsy;
anticipation making my thoughts haphazzard and half-finished, making me look
expectantly up as shadows fall across my table. Ever since last night, Shae
has been constantly assailing my thoughts, his whispered voice and strange
expression haunting my heart.

	Slowly I sigh, and I breathe in the scent of the cafe: expensive perfumes
mixed with the rugged, sensual scent of aftershave, exotic and ordinary food
mingling together to create a tantalizing aroma of unpredictability, and the
scent of the people all around me. Their voices are like music, a comforting
tide which sustains my current mood of absent introspection: a backdrop of
voices to mirror the ones within. I hear laughter, strident voices, see
flashing visions of the people that are creating them without actually
looking at them. I see the sunlight sparkling in their eyes, glittering off
ignored rings as the hands that wear them flash through the air, see nail
polish set aglow with brilliance. The rustle of paper is neverending as
homework is discussed, pages of books scanned and then turned. All around me
is the ectoplasm of life, a teeming brew of perfect, strange magic.

	"Hi."

	I look up, and suddenly the room seems to take on an even brighter cast.
Shae fills my line of vision, and as he throws himself into the seat across
from me, the air all around us seems to glow, I can almost see the electrons
of sunlight charging up just by being around him. Think I'm joking? I'm not.
Other people around us see it too: their eyes flicker helplessly to land on
him, and linger there admiringly for long moments, witnessing the stunning,
simple beauty of him, hearing the strident clarity of his gentle voice as he
speaks. His form fitting black leather jacket clings to his shoulders and
chest with a skin tight ease that leaves a few gazes filled with longing,
including mine. He gazes at me for a moment, an unassuming expression on his
face, his lips already catching themselves in a hopelessly charismatic
smile, and his eyes like two beacons of the bluest, holiest light
imaginable.

	"Hi," I manage to reply, and watch as he tosses a huge pile of paper down
on the table.

	He glares at it blackly for a moment, and then leans back in his chair,
folding his arms behind his head.

	"THOSE are my RESEARCH notes for my essay that's due in two weeks. A
hundred and four pages -- I counted them out of sheer disbelief -- that are
just for _research_. For ONE point in my essay! One wretched little point!"

	I grin wryly at him, and, being my usual cheerful self, point out the fact
that he still has three other points to go.

	"Shut up, asshole," he retorts, narrowing his eyes in a mock glare at me.

	I wink at him, and his smile widens even further, but he is interupted in
whatever he was going to say next by Brendan appearing out of the throng of
people to pull up a chair next to us. Shae grins lazily at him, running his
slender fingers through his hair slowly. I watch him silently; lost
momentarily as his fingers glide through the strands with the slowness that
a lover might take, and in the way the hair falls softly back into place
when he is done, framing that painfully beautiful face with a perfection
that makes my hands shake. Watching him exist in all of his heartbreaking
beauty, I am suddenly reminded of a line in a Counting Crows song: 'He's
suddenly beautiful/And we all want something beautiful/Man, I wish I was
beautiful'...

	"Hello, Jere."

	I shake myself as my name is called, and look over to Brendan, smiling
weakly.

	"'Lo," I offer, grinning as Brendan shows off his newly dyed hair.

	"What do you think?" he queries, turning this way and that, letting the
light fully hit the bright orange dred locks that stand out in all crazy
sorts of directions from his head. "Stunning? Completely breathtaking?"

	Shae chuckles softly and shakes his head slowly, regarding Brendan with a
mild expression.

	"Mmm," he murmurs, his sapphire eyes shimmering with good humour. "You
won't have to wear your backwheel light on your bike when you're riding at
night anymore..."

	Brendan laughs good naturedly, and then glances over at me. His intelligent
hazel gaze envelopes me for the moment, seeming to stop some inches into my
skull. Then he smiles slightly, returning his gaze to my eye level. I shift
uncomfortably, getting the unnerving feeling that he has stolen something
from my head, and wanting to demand it back.

	"Leia's been asking about you," he suddenly says, and my eyes widen in
instant trepidation.

	"Oh?" I ask slowly after a moment, trying hard as hell to sound uncaring.
"What about?"

	I see Shae slowly sit forward, gaze intent on Brendan, a surly expression
already darkening his features. His chairlegs hit the floor with a
resounding snap. Please, I silently beg Brendan... don't tell me she's told
you... and if she has... please don't say it _here_...

	"Nothing," Brendan says, after a moment's hesitation that is far too long
to allow belief of what he's said. "Wants to know.. how.. you... two.. are."

	I gaze at Brendan hard, trying to read the tell-tale signs of what I dread
he must know, but receive nothing from those sandy coloured eyes. He simply
returns my gaze quietly, and then glances over as Shae snorts.

	"Tell her we're fine. Tell her if she ever speaks Miah's name again, and I
hear about it, I'll make her wish she never heard it in the first place. And
ask her if her new boyfriend's got enough muscle to lift all her bullshit
off his face..."

	I say nothing to this, keeping my gaze averted from Brendan as Shae speaks.

	"...I'll do that," Brendan says after a moment. "I'll do that."

	Inwardly, I set myself on fire. There you go, Jere. Jump into a vat of
acid. You might as well. You're fucked. And if Brendan tells Shae... the
acid will be a much better alternative to whatever it is Shae could
inflict...

	"Bitch," I hear Shae mutter, and he picks up his research notes to rifle
through them, his fair features still caught up in an expression of fuming
rage.

	Brendan flickers his gaze over to me, and then lifts one shoulder in an
eloquent shrug, looking down at his lunch as he pulls it out of his bag. I
stare down at my lunch unseeingly, my fingers fidgiting around each other
worriedly. But my introspective nightmare is shortlived; ending abruptly as
Shae suddenly stands up in a flurry of paper, cursing impatiently.

	"I left my damn thesis page in English Lit. I've got to go get it before
some first year asshole uses it to spit his gum out in... I'll be back."

	And with that, he leaves, waving quickly at us in farewell, a fleeting
vision of gold and sapphire: a slender spectre of breathtaking elegance in
the midst of endless poseurs. I gaze helplessly after him as he goes,
feeling my spirit flee my body to follow after him, breathing in the swift
beauty that seems to pour from his arms, hands and back. Shae, I want to
call out after him, wanting to make him halt in his steps, wanting to make
him turn to find me again. I wished upon a star, I want to tell him, and see
his face take on a wondering expression, his golden hair gleaming like the
sun. I wished for you, I want to whisper. I wished to be seventeen again,
and have that chance with you once more. I wished to be in those woods
again, while you kiss me, and instead of standing there in stupid shock, I
wished I could have a chance to pull you down on the ground and not let you
go... wished I could kiss you back til your lips turn red with infused
passion and pain...

	"What the hell is going on, Jere?"

	Brendan's voice startles me, and I snap my gaze back over to him, blushing
redly as I realize that he's been watching me stare after Shae. I try to
avoid his gaze, but it persues me relentlessly. He repeats his question, and
I sigh softly, the frustration of the past long months suddenly overcoming
me like a tsunami and making me shake. Weariness envelopes me, making my
bones seem like lead, and my heart a sluggish pump of toxins. I must have
said something, because Brendan leans closer, asking me to repeat myself. I
stay silent however, vainly trying to fight the tears I know are beginning
to burn in my eyes.

	"Jere..."

	His voice is gentle, achingly gentle, and suddenly he is sitting beside me,
one arm around my shoulders. His sweater smells like old books and hospital
beds, and when I press my face into it, it becomes a warm, fuzzy world all
in its own. I can feel my tears soaking into it, and Brendan accepts them
without question, simply hugging me gently.

	"Jere..." he says softly, in a low tone that no-one else can hear. "Leia
told me."

	I nod mutely, past being able to care right now. I keep my face buried in
his shirt, saying nothing.

	"How long has this been going on?"

	I shrug blearily and shake my head, speaking in a muffled voice.

	"Since about a month before we broke up..."

	Brendan is quiet, contemplating, and then speaks again.

	"What... made it happen? What made it.. change?"

	"I don't know," I manage to whisper, making him have to strain to hear me.
"Just one day... I woke up... and fell in love."

	He says nothing to this, and after a moment, I compose myself and pull
away, wiping embarassedly at my eyes. Drawing my arms around myself in an
attempt to feel stable and secure, I keep my gaze on my lunch, unable to
think or move. He slowly withdraws his arm from around my shoulder, dropping
it back onto his lap slowly, absently. I glance over at him momentarily,
depression sweeping through my body in numbing waves, making me shiver as
lack of feeling suddenly pounds through my body and then retreats once more.
He is watching me; an expression of gentle concern shining softly in his
hazel eyes.

	"Does anyone else know?" He asks, and when I shake my head, he lowers his
voice and speaks again. "Does Shae?"

	I laugh curtly and shake my head again in resignation. "Do you honestly
think he and I'd be around each other if he knew? I'd have my ribs broken
for sure..."

	Brendan stares at me increduously for a moment, his eyebrows raised and his
eyes widening in slow disbelief. Shaking his head, he starts to laugh
strangely.

	"What the hell are you talking about? Why would he hurt you just because
you happen to.. have feelings towards him? He's _gay_. He understands that
sort of thing."

	"We're best friends," I say bluntly, feeling lower than ever as the
realization hits me yet again. "It would be too weird. Almost like incest.
And... besides... I hurt him... before. When we were seventeen. When I said
no. I hurt him... so much. He's.. over me now. He'd probably think I was
just fucking with his head or something. And I'm supposed to be straight. It
would be one big kick in the stomach for him, I think. And the natural
instinct would be to react with not-so-pleasant consequences."

	Brendan stares at me as I speak, his eyes wide and bright with incredulty.
About half way through my speech, he starts to shake his head dazedly,
looking ready to deny something, but me cutting him off every chance he
opens his mouth.

	"So forget it," I mutter unhappily. "No goddamned way. I'm not willing to
lose him."

	"Lose who?" I hear, the voice clear and gentle, inquisitive. Ah, shit.

	I look up slowly into the eyes of Shae, who has just returned, it seems,
the renegade thesis page clutched in one hand. He gazes down at the two of
us wonderingly, eyes flickering from one to the other. In that moment, in
the face of his ignorance and questioning smile, I feel my heart turning
even further into lead, sinking deeper in my body, crushing me, poisoning
me. It thuds disjointedly in my chest as I look up at him, and I feel a
strong urge to break down into tears as his beauty confirms to me that
things will never change. His searingly bright blue eyes lock with mine,
lightly probing my thoughts for the answer he seeks. I look down, severing
the connection, and merely shrug. It is Brendan who answers quickly.

	"His study partner for Lit. I want to trade him... mine just sits around
and stares at girls' tits all day."

	Shae grins knowingly and flops back down into his chair, ramming the thesis
page in with the rest of his research notes and then casting them aside
without another glance. I sympathize with the rumpled pages as they slither
across the table; as discarded and uninspiring as my heart, cast aside for
idleness and the mundane.

	"Well, at least Miah could appriciate that... would be better than having
me as a study partner. I'd just sit around and try avoid  seeing as many
tits as I can."

	Yeah, I tell him silently, inwardly crucifying myself. And I'd just sit
around trying to avoid you seeing the hard-on I've got going on because
you're just so wretchedly beautiful...

	Brendan laughs, and I manage to grin weakly. Shae reaches across the table
momentarily, and prods my oozing sandwich delicately.

	"Miah," he says mildly, shaking his head slowly, his eyes sparkling.
"You've outdone yourself again."

	Brendan giggles, and then points at it, an impish look in his eyes.

	"I'll give you a quarter if you lick it..."

	Shae looks instantly disgusted and intrigued, an insulted expression
dancing merrily on his features.

	"To lick _that_ thing? I wouldn't lick it even if I was starving and it was
the last edible thing on Earth. 'Sides, what kind of a reward is a goddamned
quarter?"

	Brendan smirks, and lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug.

	"25 cents I bet no-one else would give you."

	Shae considers this, a musing expression crossing his face. Then he grins
philisophicaly and nods, his hair falling into his eyes.

	"True. People would probably demand that I pay them for having to watch me
lick it. Do you think Miah wants 25 cents?"

	I grumble half-heartedly at this and pick up the offending sandwich
(dripping an unrecognisable and slightly nausea-inducing purple mess),
tossing it clumsily into the garbage can nearby. They snicker amicably as I
do this, and after a moment's introspective silence of Shae glaring
accusingly at his notes and Brendan watching me quietly, Brendan pipes up.

	"So. This Friday... you guys aren't doing anything in the evening, are
you?"

	Shae looks up slowly, dragging his eyes off the paper displaying his
sprawling, distinct penmanship, and shrugs, shaking his head.

	"No," he says, thinking on it, glancing over at me to confirm. I shake my
head, and then we both look over to Brendan, waiting for him to clairify.

	He grins and then leans back, an engaging expression in his earth-coloured
eyes.

	"Okay... you know how I work at the liquor store Thursday nights?"

	We nod, and Shae's face splits in a wide grin, his sapphire eyes sparkling
merrily. I have to grin stupidly at that. Brendan grins back and continues.

	"I get anything I want for 60 percent off... so I was thinking.. if you
guys weren't busy... we could sit around my room or whoever's room and have
a good time of it. It's been so long since just us three chilled..."

	Shae nods empatically, and I smile my consent. Brendan gives a small cheer,
and we all look over as Brendan's watch starts to beep, signifying the end
of the lunch break. Sighing, he stands slowly, gathering his bag into his
arms and looking to us regretfully.

	"Got to go," he laments, rolling his eyes heavenward. "I've got Social
next. God help me."

	We laugh and wish him a good day, Shae standing to slap him heartily on the
back and then embrace him in a quick hug. He heads off with a wave, merging
into a throng of busily chattering people heading out into the campus again.
Shae and I remain where we are, but not for long because Shae starts to pick
up his notes page by page, delivering each of them a withering look before
stuffing them unceremoniously into his binder.

	"I've got to go, Miah... I need to hit the library before all the goddamned
giggling first year girls get there and bug me all day."

	I nod slowly, giving him a half-smile in reply to his reluctant goodbye.

	"Okay," I say mournfully, standing awkwardly, gazing him in the eyes sadly.
He offers me a slight smile, and then walks around the table to stand in
front of me. Slowly, with movements that seem drenched in eloquence and
galmour, he extends his slender arms to slip around my waist, his hands
moving like liquid velvet across my back, emitting a stark eroticsm that
makes me shiver in helpless delight. Pulling me close to him, I am enveloped
in his strength and gentle empathy, feeling the smoothess of his leather
jacket against my face, and the silken softness of his hair brushing my
cheek.

	"Will you come pick me up after work?" he murmurs softly into my hair, his
warm, sweet-scented breath searing my cheek and throat.

	I nod slowly, dazedly, feeling my body starting to melt slowly in his arms.
I am rendered unable to speak as he holds me closer, hugging me tightly in
thanks. I clutch him tightly, his jacket bunched up in stiff folds between
my trembling fingers, my eyes closed in desperation. Waves of desire slam
through me as his nearness blisters my senses, the quiet sexiness of his
voice echoing maddeningly in my head. But suddenly, he is stepping away, his
arms pulling away once more, leaving me almost gasping for breath, caught
for that one moment in an inability to exist without his embrace.

	"See you later then," he says quietly, the sublimity of his burning gaze
lingering on my own. I nod stupidly, frozen to the spot, and he leaves,
waving at me in farewell, a light in his eyes that again confuses me, the
same light I saw when we were out in the valley the night before. I watch
him leave, shiver as he looks back quickly, and then am left to my thoughts
in the empty cafe, listening to them bounce and slaughter themselves against
the glass walls, hearing the endless whispering of my own relentless, stupid
desire echo three-fold.

*	*	*	*

	Nervously, I pull myself up into Shae's truck, the keys clasped in one
anxious hand. Yanking the door shut behind me, I sit behind the steering
wheel that has always seemed gigantic to me, and shove the key into the
ignition after a few false starts. I've always felt anxious when driving
this beast; its rattling noises and huge interior never seem apparent to me
until I am forced to control it myself. And then they worry me to
distraction. But Shae never drives to work; he gets a ride in a car-pool,
and then I pick him up to go home again. Sighing, I listen to it grumble
into reluctant life, and then timidly put it into drive, steering it
worriedly out of the parking lot.

	As I drive, my thoughts are caught upon the knowledge that my hands are
touching the same place his hands grip on a regular basis, and I smile as I
remember how entranced I was with his hands when he was driving, strangely
exhilarated by the fact that my hands are now in the very spot I was envying
before. Silently I will my thoughts into the plastic of the wheel, demanding
them to sink into his DNA that must surely be littering the entire surface,
to somehow let him know my love and endless want. I grip it tighter, wanting
as much of him to come off on my hands as possible, driving absently.

	The road becomes one big, long stretch of endless grey matter, and before I
know it, I am unconsciously turning into the parking lot of his work,
getting out of the car and walking towards the back entrance. Shoving my
hands into my jeans pockets, I stare up at the star-flecked night sky,
watching my breath forming tiny clouds of condensation on the air. Part of
me doesn't want to see him, for fear of the fact that I know my heart will
break itself, and I will have to deal with it not being able to have him,
but another part is aching to see him, to touch him, to look into the eyes
that have stolen my soul.

	Opening the back door, I am suddenly in the midst of a bustling building,
all one level but stretching forward for what seems to be miles. It is a
place that makes steel beams for buildings, all sorts of sizes and
densities. Hundreds of forklifts bustle around thousands of people, sparks
continually fill the air with orange suddeness, and a million sounds of
drills and steel cutters make a strange, ear-pericing muisc. Futilely I look
around for Shae, hoping to spot his tall blonde figure in the midst of all
the dumpy faceless people surrounding me. But of course, I don't, and I
start to head off in the vague direction of his department, hoping it hasn't
moved location again in this massive warehouse. The bright flourescent
lights sizzle off of whitewashed walls, blinding me.

	Shae is the manager of the department that looks after Re-location. His job
is to make sure stray skids of steel beams are found and returned to the
proper sub-devisions; he is constantly waging war against the Delivery
department, endlessly getting on their asses about being irresponsible,
forgetful fools. It is a futile fight, but he fights it nonetheless
because.. well.. he's Shae. I watch all the people as I pass them by, seeing
sparks being reflected in their blank goggles, hearing muffled shouts over
the screaming drills. And then I see Shae. He is sitting in the seat of one
of the forklifts, a skid of dozens of dark blue pipes held in the steely
embrace of the machine. It is not moving however, and he is currently
looking down to one of the employees, shouting something over the noise to
him. Obviously he is not heard, for I see some irritable waving of hands and
Shae's face to grow impatient. After two or three vain attempts to get the
guy below to hear him, he angrily turns off the forklift and jumps down, his
hair flying brightly. I stop walking.

	"WHAT?" I hear, and wince, knowing the other guy is in for a hard time.

	The dark-haired man shrugs, and says something intelligible, his skinny,
nervous hands flitting about. Shae sighs and stares intently at the man for
a moment, his gaze hard and appraising.

	"What do you mean you lost skids six, seven and thirty-two?? I just had
them lined up three feet away from your post ten minutes ago!"

	The man gabbles inchoherently, and Shae throws his hands up in the air.

	"Well, GO FIND THEM! It's not my job to find the skids that YOU have lost!
I rounded up all the ones missing; it's YOUR job to get them sent off."

	The man nods hurriedly and then bustles off, leaving Shae fuming.

	"Christ!" I hear him mutter, shaking his head wearily. "All night this shit
has been going on... can't they hire someone who speaks proper English for
once??"

	I watch as he sighs, and lifts his hands to the back of his neck, rubbing
slowly. God, he looks so tired, I realize silently, concern washing over me
in sudden, debilatating waves. Exhaustion was making his eyes dull, and his
expression blank. I step forward and lay a hand on his arm softly, and his
eyes fly open, his hands droping. When he sees me, his eyes widen in a
mixture of relief and happiness.

	"Oh, it's you!" he exclaims softly, his eyes shining. My heart thumps
erratically. Jesus.. those eyes..

	"Yeah.."  I say needlessly, stupidly, and his smile deepens fondly.

	"Okay.. I'll be right back. Need to sign out." With that, he has disapeared
into the bustling tide of people, and I lose him to the crowd. Sighing
softly, I stand there idiodically, watching the spot where he disapeared
into, my eyes locked onto nothingness, seeing the ghost of his smile,
feeling the memory of his warm touch. The phrase "time and physical distance
are the absolute stupidities of the universe" comes into my head,
superimposed with the image of him walking away, the invisible robes of
glory draped upon his unknowing shoulders. So close to me, all of the time.
Few are the hours in the day where he is not meagre inches away from me,
where nothing could possibly stop me from reaching out to run my fingers
across his arm, over his shoulder and down the forbidden terrain of his
chest... nothing to stop that but myself and my fear. So let me rephrase...
"fear is the absolute stupidity of the universe". But the little voice in my
head rears its insistant, annoying head, and reminds me again that the fear
might not be unfounded, that the heartstopping angel I desire might turn
against me in a fit of rage... and I would lose his divinity. Lose Heaven
forever.

	"Golden gates..." I whisper, unaware that my voice is slipping into the air
surrounding me. "Golden gates surrounded in pain and fire... banished to me
forever by the angel himself... the god of suffering and tears..."

	"What?" I hear, and I blink, spinning around to find Shae behind me,
carrying his backpack over one shoulder and a quizical expression donning
his face.

	Chagrin nervously sweats upon my skin, and I shake my head in trepidatious
embarassment, stammering.

	"N-..nothing.."

	He frowns slowly and tilts his head slightly, pinpointing me under that
unnervingly intelligent gaze, the blueness of his eyes threatening to render
me comatose. Then a smile breaks out on his soft lips like a sudden shaft of
light into a dungeonous hell, and he chuckles softly.

	"Ah, Miah. Always the poet. But always spouting it whenever I'm not
around."

	I shrug wordlessly at him, unable to think of what to say to that, and he
chuckles again.

	"Lets go," he says, and takes my hand, pulling me towards the exit doors.

	I follow blindly after him, not seeing anything around me, barely feeling
the floor underfoot as I am pulled. His hand becomes my world: dizzyingly I
experience the strident warmth of it, the strong ease of his slender fingers
holding mine, his palm a centre of unbelievable heat seeming to pulse with
the screaming of my heart. I see our hands clasped together, watch how the
smooth fairness of his skin contrasts with my tanned flesh, his clean
fingernails resting lightly on the back of my hand, and my dirty ones barely
daring to rest on his. His wrist extends into his forearm, and I follow its
supple, strong ascent as far as I can before I lose it to the uniform steel
blue of his work uniform. The roughly hewn sleeve rests absently on his arm,
chaffing it haphazardly, completely unaware of the perfection it clothes.
Silently I curse, feel a jealousy of it stabbing stupidly through me: I want
to tear it off and replace it with my lips, my tongue, any available part of
my desperate body...

	But the cold air outside shocks me away from completing any such sordid
thoughts, and I gasp as the sharp aqeuousness of it slams me back into
reality. His fingers still hold mine, but we are nearing the truck, the
bright redness of it signifying another closeness of him, but also a deadly,
unbearable separation. I grip his hand tightly, and he doesn't seem to
notice, still heading towards the truck, the night wind in his hair and
making his eyes sparkle with unchallenged and beautiful life. The moon pours
down its diamond brillance upon his figure with such intensity that it makes
my eyes water, making his hair look like spun mithril, and his androgynous,
fair features to become awash with a holy radiance almost as stunning as the
light from his eyes.

	With a smile, he lets go of my hand slowly, leaving me in the darkness of
the truck's shadow as he moves around to the other side, and it is belatedly
now that I realize that the moon's brightness did not cause the moisture in
my eyes, but the song in my heart and the longing in my hands. Ashamedly I
wipe the tears away on the impersonal surface of my coat sleeve, see them
create a darker shadow on the fabric that becomes a temporary, give-away map
of my inner purgatory. Angrily I wipe at it and then drop my hand, not
allowing myself to look at it anymore as Shae leans over and opens the
passenger door for me.

	"It wasn't locked," he informs me, holding his hand out for the keys as I
get in.

	I flush, kicking myself. "Shit... sorry," I manage to say, reaching into my
pocket and closing around the cool surface of the keys, pulling them out and
handing them to him, watching them glitter in the starshine. "I forgot."

	He smiles at me and shrugs peaceably, starting the engine and doing up his
seatbelt.

	"It's okay. I just couldn't figure out why you were standing there like
that..."

	Of course, I don't answer this, and it is idle chit chat until we get back
to the residence. Along the way up to our dorm, we are accosted by all sorts
of friends and others, people stopping to talk to my golden-haired friend,
not seeming to notice his obvious impatience with their growing multitude. I
stand behind him, covered in the blissful darkness of his shadow, seeming to
have become invisible and welcoming it. Eventually, however, he manages to
weave his way through them, and with a low snarl he opens the door to our
dorm, lets me get in after him and then slams it securely shut.

	"Man!" he exclaims wearily, tossing his backpack into an absent corner and
walking slowly over to his room. "I don't understand why all these people
seem to think I'm so great to talk to... surely they must have some sort
of.. hobbies... anything... other people... boyfriends... girlfriends..."

	I grin to myself and stay silent, not volunteering an opinion on that one.
It is true... whenever he walks into a room, it seems like every living
thing in there stops to interact with him.. even the air.. the light... the
shadows...

	Kicking open the door to his room, he slowly drifts inside, his fingers
working at undoing the buttons on his work shirt, moving absently and
without thought, unaware of my burning gaze locked upon them hungrily. A
hundred times I have seen him undress before, and a hundred times before it
has never occurred to me of the complete, anihilating sexiness of his body.
I stand there silently, watching him pace in his room, vaguely aware of the
the soft, dark colour scheme of the walls, bed and floor; distantly I see
his dark purple sheets and pillows, the navy blue of his carpet and walls,
and the hundreds of strange but captivating photographs adorning his walls.
Soft music wafts out of the doorway: the harrowing melodies of Enigma and
Leseim creating an almost otherworldly cast to his space. His back is turned
to me, his head bowed, fatigue making his shoulders sag slightly and his
fingers clumsy in their attempts to rid himself of his shirt. But slowly he
manages to get it off, the ripples along the back signify its release as it
suddenly slips off his shoulders and falls to the floor, where he leaves it.

	I feel my body react as though it has been snapped at with a whip; arousal
and crushing lust suddenly spiral their way up to my dazed brain from his
smooth, slender back to my stirring groin. The soft light in his room makes
his skin look like pale caramel, invitingly soft and maddeningly smooth. I
can just barely see his ribs as he stretches, the whispering erotica of his
waist telling me things I shouldn't listen to. The muscles in his arms
ripple like strange serpents underwater, and his shoulders become dunes in a
desert of golden perfection as he lifts his arms to yawn. His fingers land
on the back of his neck again, where they start to rub at the muscles there,
a soft, husky sigh slipping past his lips as he does so. Before I am aware
of what I am about to do, I have already crossed the living room into his
territory, coming to a stop right behind him. My hands lift without
intervention of my screaming brain, and my fingers caress his shoulders,
beckoning him to lower his hands.

	He doesn't jump like I belatedly expect him to, shock riddling my body as I
realize what I am doing. He doesn't move at all except to lower his hands
and his head to droop even further. Then, unbelieveably, I hear a soft moan
that makes my legs suddenly want to overide their joints and send me flying
to the floor, and he speaks sighingly.

	"Mmm... one of your massages would be excellent right now, Miah..." he
breathes softly, stepping backwards against me, the warmth of his body
sending my senses on a wild, crazy rollercoaster.

	I blink and jerkily nod my assent, my fingers beginning their work on his
silken skin, slowly moving across each muscle in his shoulders, my thumbs
pressing in as firmly as I can make them. Rubbing them in slow, spiralling
circles, I hear him whimper softly, rolling his shoulders slowly to get the
full effect. The sound of his voice caught up in a sound so entirely
vulnerable and intoxicating makes my thoughts freeze, my whole body seeming
to be stuck in permanent arousal. The whimper singes into my skin, making me
shiver, and slowly dances down my spine, making my vision blur and my hands
to tremble. His hair brushes my face lightly, the nape of his neck being
mere inches away from my lips..

	"I wish I could think of a way to repay you for these, Miah," he murmurs
drowsily, fatigue making his voice husky and downright lascivious.

	I swallow my words hurriedly and say nothing, closing my eyes to try and
block out the incredible vision of him being putty in my hands, letting my
fingers think for their own selves. He is so caught up in the feeling that I
can feel him rocking back and forth slightly with each pressure of my hands,
his hair sending tantalizing wafts of sweet scent up into my face. My
fingers slip and slide across his skin slowly, letting no inch of it go
untraversed, memorizing the slope and curve of his muscles as I move
downwards, onto his back. I am rewarded suddenly with a gasp, and his body
stiffens.

	"Ahhh...mmm. Right there...please..." he moans faintly, making my fingers
jerk involuntarily, pushing deeper into his skin than intended.

	I try not to shiver as his voice shatters my mental wall, and I stay where
he asked me to, my thumbs pressing deeply against the skin-covered muscle.
He arches his back against me so that his shoulders are touching mine and
his hair is lying on my chest. You want a way to repay me... let me slip my
arms around you and kiss your neck, kiss a trail down your spine making you
gasp, make you want to grab me and shove me up against the wall, cover my
aching mouth in the kisses that I have craved for so long.. feel your
fingers pull at my shirt, hear your groans of desire pound through my
head...

	I can feel an erection throbbing in my pants, one so hard and unavoidable
that it makes me simulataneously pale in fear and convulse in pounding
pleasure. But he's still pressing against my hands, still breathing deeply,
his eyes closed in ecstacy, completely ignorant of the lust boiling behind
him. God... so close... so fucking close... I could just slip my arms around
his waist and hold him against me, feel that beautiful, firmly rounded ass
as I pressed myself against it... hold him moaning in my arms as I thrust...
my hands working him through his pants... my name dripping like liquid sex
off his tongue... so hard... so ready... so fucking needy... vulnerable...
throbbing in my hands... grinding against them... tears of pain and pleasure
rolling down his cheeks as he comes, half-whimpering my name... flooding his
boxers with the sacred white fluid that I've so long dreamed to taste...
feel it soak through his jeans...

	Oh, Christ... what am I doing?! I stop myself as I realize I am heading for
the exposed satin of his throat, my lips burning to place a fire-hot kiss to
that salty skin. Inches away I manage to stop myself and quickly snap back,
my hands abruptly falling away from his shoulders. He hasn't noticed my
predicament. Oh God... don't... turn around...

	"Thanks..." he whispers softly, and as he starts to turn, I suddenly whirl
around and head out the door, wishing him a hurried goodnight. I don't stop
to hear his answer or see his reaction. Running into my room, I close the
door as calmly as I can and then lean against it, slowly sinking down into a
heap on the floor, flooding my carpet with burning tears. Clawing at it
uselessly, I cry until I can't feel the tears running down my face, I cry
myself into a dreamless sleep... rage and furious frustration shattering my
every hope and dream...