Date: Wed, 12 Feb 2003 18:54:14 -0500
From: Stabbing Westward Junkie <youarenotyourf_ckingkhakis@hotmail.com>
Subject: Dylan Thomas By The Dying Light - Chapter 4

	My eyes sleepily drift open. Sunshine streams unchecked through the truck's
windows, bathing everything in a highly concentrated elixir of golden light,
highlighting the dust particles in the air and the irridescent flame
shooting through Shae's tawny hair. Which is hanging in my eyes. I blink
slowly, in confusion, not understanding for a moment. My eyes focus for a
second past the hair to gaze around the truck. I knew where I was as soon as
I woke up... but it didn't seem strange until now. Curiously I try to shift,
and then belatedly realize that I am sitting not on the seat but on
something organic and warm. Shae's lap. The heat of his body makes itself
known to me as soon as I realize where I am: his arms and chest and legs
seem to give off a throbbing heat, encircling me in a radius so intense that
if I haven't already been sweating, I know I must have started by now.

	As I blink, his hair jerkily moves out of my eyes, shifting my vision from
peircing amber brilliance to a stunning vision of Shae's face caught up in
the simplicity of slumber. His eyebrows are relaxed, sitting exhaustedly on
his forehead, his skin is as smooth looking as paper under a flourescent
lamp, and his lips shine pinkly, healthily before me. I hear his breath
drawing in and out from his chest, and feel myself subtly moving with each
inhalation and expellation. His hair hangs in tousled waves all around his
face, and were my fingers not locked behind his back, I would lift them to
become entangled in the locks, to brush them out of his restful visage. Just
watching him I am overcome, fatigue seeping away from my body to become
replaced with alertness and helpless twinges of desire. My hands tighten
their grip around him gently, and after a moment of staring, I lower my head
again to fall on his shoulder, and am thrillingly rewarded with him
stirring, clutching me tight with his hidden hands before becoming lax
again.

	As I lie there, listening to him breathe, feeling the solid smoothness of
his chest under my cheek, I smile at the air before me, thanking the gods
for making Alex non-existant last night. If it weren't for that, I'd be in
my own bed, staring at the ceiling, knowing that he was in the next room
alone. But instead, I'm stuck in cramped quarters with him, the cold forcing
us to be pressed against each other, ending up making us into a tangled
knot, arms and legs wrapped around each other in a unconsciously sensual
embrace. Don't wake up, I beg him silently. I want to stay like this
forever.

	My eyes close as his breathing lulls me back into restfulness, my heart
light and bouyant on the feeling of being so close to him. I am just about
to fall into a laguid state of semi-unconsciousness when I feel him move
slightly, his hands moving away from the spot they are anchored at and
slowly moving up my back. He moans softly, a drowsy, erotic sound that purrs
deep in his throat and leaves me short of breath, my back already begining
to respond to his touch by arching slightly. His cheek rubs softly against
mine as his hands move, and he moans again, a tiny sound this time, but
somehow different. My eyes open and I look up at him curiously, but his eyes
are closed and his face as still as before. His fingers move lightly up and
down my back, seeming to trace every contour, his skin setting trails of
fire alight under my flesh. I bite my lower lip deeply as his touch
intensifies, but I cannot bring myself to move away.

	But his hands are descending, farther than I was thinking they would go,
and before I can realize what he is doing, his fingers are slipping under
the hem of my shirt slowly, dazedly almost. Hesitantly they move, past the
waist of my jeans to graze my skin, his fingertips dancing lightly over it.
My eyes squeeze tightly shut, my jaw clenched like a vice so I won't open it
to let loose the sudden groans of need sraping at my throat. He doesn't know
what he's doing, I try to tell myself, but any coherent thought is lost as
his fingers gain confidence, moving with ease and purely sexual smoothness
up my spine. I know I am shivering... I can feel my muscles shaking, but I
can't stop myself. My arms tighten around him instinctively, and he sort
of... presses himself up against me, his chest rising to mould with mine for
a moment as my touch rouses him even further.

	"Oh..." I whisper soundlessly, and am about to dare to press a tiny kiss to
his shoulder, when a sudden shout shocks me out of movement.

	"Shae? Yo dude, you in there?"

	Looking around in heart-pounding confusion, I manage to catch a glimpse of
someone approaching the truck from up the driveway before Shae moves
underneath me, his eyes flickering open.

	"...what..." He mutters thickly, blinking bewilderedly as another shout
rings througout the truck. At the same time, we both move, sliding off and
away from each other, his hands slipping out from under my shirt. He doesn't
seem to notice where they have been, however, for he simply just sits up and
peers out the window in momentary confusion, running his fingers through his
hair in an attempt to smooth it down.

	"Oh shit.. it's Alex," he says quickly, and yanks the door open, swinging
himself out and onto the ground, leaving me to stare after him in a paradigm
of disbelief and heartbreak. Trying to control my haphazard breathing, I
watch as he intercepts Alex, who turns out to be a tall guy with long
orange-ish hair that twines down his back in a ambling braid. I hear Alex's
profuse apologies, and watch his expressive hand gestures for a moment
before giving up and sinking back down into the seat, still warm from our
combined touch. Groaning softly, I wait until I hear Shae's booted feet
quietly approaching the truck before sitting up again and trying to look
normal.

	"Wanna give a hand unloading these peices of shit?" He asks me, leaning on
the open window of the driver's side with a smile as radiant as the sun
streaming in through the trees. "Then we can get out of here..."

	I nod weakly, and he grins, pushing himself off the truck to go around the
back. Taking a deep breath, I slide out of the truck and walk around to the
back of it, smiling half-assedly at the cheerful greeting from Alex, and
begin helping them load the pipes from Shae's truck to Alex's. I can't help
but notice Shae's arms as he lifts the pipes, the way the muscles move like
live things under the tight constraints of his shirt, the grace and stark
solidness that seemed to spark off him with every movement. God, I think to
myself helplessly, shut up. You're going to distract yourself and end up
with a broken foot by droping one of these damn things.

	Eventually we get all the pipes transferred, and with another apology from
Alex, we go our separate ways. Sliding in beside Shae once more, I watch as
he waits for Alex to back out of the driveway, still not able to comprehend
how we managed to get from such complete intimacy to casual small talk
within seconds. It should have mattered, shouldn't it? Something like that
_should_ have registered in his psyche somewhere, shouldn't it? Sighing so
that he doesn't hear me, I run my hands through my hair slowly, numbly,
trying to ignore the tingling that his hands left on the skin of my back. I
guess not. I.. guess not. Leaning back, I half listen to Shae's softly
melodic voice as he drives, my gaze lost to nothingness, and my brain a
whirl of debilitating introspection. Concentrating on my own breathing
because listening to him hurts too much, I do not notice the time as it
flows by, nor do I notice the growing silence in the truck. After a while,
Shae reaches over suddenly and turns off the radio with a sharp snap that
makes me blink and glance over at him inquiringly.

	"So? What do you think about it?"

	I stare at him uncomprehendingly for a moment, stupidly trying to recall
the question to which he was referring.

	"Uh..." I offer slowly, feeling my cheeks flushing like a inky bruise
across paper.

	He sighs and shakes his head, delivering me one of his usual peircing
glances filled with disapointment and knowing.

	"You haven't been listening to a single word I've been saying, Miah," he
murmurs petulantly, arching a tawny eyebrow in my direction.

	I can think of nothing to say to this, or at least nothing that wouldn't
undermine his intelligence, so I stay pointedly silent. He sighs again and
begins to pull off the side of the road. Blinking at him in confusion, I
barely have time to ask him what he is doing before he turns the engine off
and leaves nothing but the clinking sounds of the truck coming to rest and
the sound of his gentle, methodical breathing. I can feel him staring at me;
bright sapphire affinity sinking into my reality, unavoidable in its
intensity.

	"What's up?" He inquires quietly, his hands resting on his lap.

	"Nothing." I say flatly, shaking my head. I know I'm acting like a
two-year-old, I know it. But honestly... how else could I react? Better to
lie about it than possibly getting dumped at the side of the road in the
middle of who knows where...

	"Bullshit, Miah. Bull-fucking-shit."

	I can hear the mounting impatience and hurt in his voice, but I can't bring
myself to assuage it.

	"C'mon Shae. Honestly. Nothing's wrong. I'm just tired. Let's go, okay?" I
lift a pleading gaze to him slowly, the power of his presence threatening to
make me wilt. He stares at me for a long moment, probing my gaze.

	"You didn't sleep well." A statement, not a question. I frown at this
usage, and stare at him.

	"Um..." I reply falteringly. "Yeah... well.. as well as one can sleep in a
truck."

	"You could have woken me up..."

	I frown again. What would waking him up have done to make me fall back
asleep?

	"No.. it's... it's okay," I say. "Better to let you sleep. You needed it
more than I did."

	"So this is what's wrong then. Lack of sleep. You've been.... a zombie for
the past two hours... I started telling you that your clothes were on fire
and that we'd just stumbled into World War Two Berlin, but it went right
over your head. I refuse to believe lack of sleep did this."

	I have to grin at this, and shake my head apologetically, reaching over to
turn the keys in the ignition.

	"I'm sorry. I'll pay more attention. Let's just go."

	But he stops my hand from turning the keys and tightens his fingers around
mine, not letting them go. I lift my gaze to his questioningly. The next
words he says makes me choke, leaving me sputtering for an answer.

	"I didn't get a hard-on while you were in my lap, did I?"

	He asks it seriously, the words very straight-forward without any trace of
eroticsm. I gape at him for a moment, not knowing how quite to answer this,
but he saves me having to by speaking again.

	"'Cause I don't want you to think that I.. dragged you onto my lap
because.. of... anything.. like that." Incredibly, I stare with amazement as
a pink, alien blush begins to suffuse his features, and his words become
clumsy and inelegant. "You were cold. You didn't bring your coat... that's
all. So if... I did... get anything.. like that... it really wasn't because
of... well... _that_." He finishes up quickly, anxiously, leaving his words
muddled and confused.

	I stare at him for a moment, half in thrall about the idea of him with an
erection, and also completely dumbstruck at the blush sitting redly on his
cheeks. Shae never showed discomfort... ever. Neither did he ever usually
speak about anything sexual.. at least not around me. Swallowing, and noting
his growing worry, I shake my head vaguely.

	"No..." I manage to croak. "You.. didn't."

	Blonde hair mixes with crimson skin, and in the middle of it all brightly
burning blue eyes assail me searchingly. His loveliness is very acute in
this moment of vulnerbility, and perversely, I feel myself becoming oddly
aroused, knowing that in this second, he is completely within my power. He
moistens his lips with his tongue slowly, which leaves me feeling quite
exhilarated, and speaks in reply.

	"O...okay. Okay. .... Okay."

	Clearing his throat, he lets go of my hand, and once it drops away, he
turns the engine over and puts the gear into drive once more. The blush
continues to rage on his cheeks, and his eyes avoid touching mine as he
begins to drive.

	And then I hear myself speaking. "But.... even if you had.... there
wouldn't have... been anything to worry about, right? I wouldn't have
freaked or anything... you're a guy. We all get them."

	Some small part of my brain screams at me, its arms pin-wheeling to get my
attention. Hey, asshole!!! Over here!! What the fuck do you think you are
DOING?!?!

	He glances quickly over at me, and then looks away again, his expression
becoming unsure and strange.

	"Yeah... well..." His voice is tight, constrained. "I... well. There's a
difference. Between... you and I."

	"What difference?" I hear myself ask, knowing full well what he means.

	He is silent for a moment, his gaze darkening as if some internal struggle
was ensuing. Then he offers a faint chuckle.

	"The difference there's always been, Jere."

	Jere. The name sinks into my heart like a stone, and injury sweeps through
me like a wave of frozen faliure. I wish I could explain why that hurt so
much, but all I can think in this moment is how fitting it is, how observant
and damningly prophetic.

	"Jere?" I echo lightly, trying not to act like my heart is slowly seiving.
"Since when did you start calling me that?"

	"It's your name." He replies curtly, anger suddenly snapping off him like
an electric current. I blink, feeling this, and stare uncomprehendingly at
him.

	But he says nothing else on it, and we keep driving. I sit silently, worry
and fear shaking me to the bone, wondering what I'd done to get the sudden
change in mood. Maybe he just remembered what happened before Alex woke him
up? Maybe he thought I was making fun about him being gay? Questions like
these assail me in the silence that I sit, and I stew in their ugly rank
until Shae nudges me, waving a hand in front of my eyes.

	"We're here," he says, and before I can thank him, he is out of the truck,
slamming the door shut and heading into the residence building. With my
mouth hanging open in the process of saying thank you, I stare at him as the
glass door wheels shut after him, blocking me with its blank face from
watching. Blinking back the sudden tears that prick at my eyes, I slowly
make my way into the building, heading towards our room. Fatal defeat wells
up in me, and I begin to systematically curse everything about myself,
ending up with a severe decision to pretend like my cock doesn't exsit,
because that is what is getting me into the most trouble, I figure.

	When I get back inside, Shae is nowhere to be found. His door is shut, and
I don't dare knock on it. Trudging into my own room, I quietly close the
door behind me, and without turning on any of the lights, I throw myself
into bed, muffling my yells of frustration in the mercifully thick pillows
scrunched under my tear-stained face.

*	*	*	*

[Author's Note: At a suggestion from one of my readers, I have decided to
change the story from a first person perspective to an omnipotent one.
However, Shae's perspective will not become as principal as Miah's, else the
thread behind the story is lost.]

	I know he's in there crying or something. He's got to be. Fuck. I'm such a
prick. How the hell is he supposed to know?

	Giving up, I toss myself onto my bed, feeling it jump under me, bouncing me
up and down for a few moments before coming to a rest. Lying on it
spread-eagled, I stare sightlessly up at the dark ceiling, practically
_feeling_ Miah in the next room, his head awash with confusion and numbing
belittlement. I can picture him perfectly: curled up in the fetal position,
a pillow clutched to his chest, his beautiful fingers white with strain as
he tries to drown his tears. I've seen him like this before, when everything
becomes too much. And it's usually to do with me and my pride.

	His beauty angers me sometimes. It's like he has no idea about how
disgustingly PRETTY he is. And then wonders why girls fight over him, why
guys hit on him like mad and then come grumbling to me when he pays them no
heed, not to mention him being straighter than a fucking two by four. And
then there's _me_. I'm the worst of them all... completely lost to his
innocent charisma and fighting for his attention like every other greedy
slut in this place. And the worst part is, I can't stop it. I've never been
able to. I've been able to convince him, and myself at times, that I have
been able to move on, no looking back sort of thing... but it's really just
the most horrible, painful bullshit I've ever created.

	And because of this bullshit, I've got him in the other room hating
himself, when it should be him hating _me_. And there is nothing I can say
to him about it. Because if I did, it would have to be me explaining to him
how I've never gotten over him, how I replay that kiss we shared so long ago
in my head over and over and over, how I've wanted to rip the tits off all
the girls he's ever smiled at, kissed, touched, or slept with. Not to
mention that evil wretch, Leia.

	It's a no win situation. I know he's not gay.. nor could he ever be. I
assertained that a long time ago. I just wish my heart could realize this.
How could possibly tell him that I WISH he would have freaked out if I had
gotten a hard on last night? How I wish that it would have gotten him
hornier than a buffalo in heat? Well. Bad example... but still. And I _know_
I got a hard on last night. That was inevitable. And the worst part of it
all is that I _know_ he was awake before Alex came. When I was half awake
and not realizing what I was doing. I _know_ that's why he was all quiet on
the ride home. Just too polite to say anything. It wouldn't have been the
first time something like this has happened. Damn Alex.

	Sighing, I stand up and turn on my lights. Staring around my room with a
feeling of futility, my gaze lands on a framed picture hanging on my wall
above my bed along with many others, but this one special because of the
things contained within. It is the same one he has, the same one I saw lying
on his bed not too long ago, much to my still present confusion. He and I at
our high-school graduation... I'm holding his hand, and his smile is just
incredible, his eyes so soft and ocean green. We look perfect.

	Groaning, I look away, and am about to pull out my guitar when a knock
resounds on the outer door of our dorm. Frowning in quick wonderment, I open
my door and head to the front, glancing over at Miah's door as I go. Shut.
Lights out. Christ.

	Hating myself, I pull open the door with a stormy expression, which catches
Brendan blinking warily at me.

	"Hey..." he says slowly, eyeing me critically. "You... made it back. Was
getting worried."

	I shrug at him, feeling too uncaring to say anything and walk back towards
my room, leaving the front door open so that he can leave or come in at his
own discression.

	"What's going on?" He asks softly, shutting the front door and following me
into my room before I can close it off.

	Flopping back onto my bed again, I rumage down the side of it and pull out
my guitar, listening with a half-hearted cringe as the strings scrape
against the wall. Resting it on my stomach, I let my fingers pluck at random
notes.

	"Fuck if I know," I say untruthfully.

	He stares at me in the long, calculating way he has, his earth-toned
coloured eyes discerning and annoying me.

	"Mmm," he says, and sits down beside me. "That's a load of BS if I've ever
heard it. Tell me the truth, Shae."

	"Can't you ever accept anything I say, Brendan?" I snap at him reflexively,
angrily glancing over.

	He shakes his head with a peaceful, lazy smile and leans back, making
himself comfortable. I groan.

	"Go away," I mutter.

	"Nope," he says airily. "I'm staying. Or else, I could go over to Jere's
room and talk to _him_."

	I narrow my eyes at his grin. "Like hell you will."

	"Yep,' he smiles. "I will. And I'll find out from him what an asshole
you're being, even though he'd never say that about you, much less believe
it. It would be the only conclusion I would inevitably come to. Or, you
could just tell me why you've done whatever it is you've done and I'll know
it's only because of your undying love for him."

	Letting the guitar fall away, I sit up onto my elbows and glare at him
half-heartedly.

	"And how do you know it's something _I've_ done?"

	Brendan grins slowly, making my innards boil. "Because if it was something
Jere had done, he would have come over to my place already, and would have
told me everything while pacing back and forth and wrecking my carpet.
Asking me asinine questions like 'Do you think he hates me?' or 'I should
just leave, shouldn't I?'."

	"You bastard," I say grumpily and lie back down again, glaring at the
ceiling.

	"Yep," he agrees blithely, and then leans forward, tapping my chest. "So
out with it."

	I knock his hand away, but then begin to reluctantly tell him everything,
feeling myself unwind slowly as the words come pouring out. After the end of
it, I watch him expectantly, watching as he digests the information.

	"So it seems kind of obvious to me... he was awake while you were doing
whatever it was you were doing... and it doesn't seem like he was....
objecting to it...."

	I stare at him momentarily, and then shake my head. "Just didn't want to
say anything. Didn't want to hurt me."

	Brendan levels me with a look. "Right. Look, I know from personal
experience.. if a straight guy is feeling too... close or intimate to
another guy, the straight guy will _move away_. Most of the time, they'll
freak."

	I shake my head again and sigh quietly. "Yeah, well, we both know that Miah
isn't a 'most of the time' guy."

	Brendan shrugs. "Well, whatever man. I'm just saying what it seems like to
me."

	I laugh quietly and roll over, staring dejectedly at the wall. "And getting
my hopes up beyond all possibility of pulling them down again."

	Brendan sighs and is quiet for a while. I imagine I can hear Miah in the
next room building a voodoo doll in my likeness.

	"So... so maybe that's where they should be. Christ.. you're always giving
yourself the worst odds. What ever would happen if you gave yourself a
little hope every once and a while?"

	I look over at him sharply. "What would happen is what happened when we
were seventeen. There's no goddamned way I'm willing to let that happen
again."

	Brendan offers me a shrewd, sudden gaze. "What, the kiss? You wouldn't let
that happen again?"

	I roll my eyes. "No, the crap that happened afterwards."

	"Who's to say that's what would happen this time? You're so scared to see
what will happen after you do something, that you simply won't even let your
heart _dream_ about it. So all you do is pretend like you don't love him
like that, you write countless songs in his name, you compose all sorts of
lovesick, sexy poetry about him, and I _know_ you jack off thinking about
him..."

	I grin and chuckle softly at his, while smacking him in the leg. "Well,
that's a given," I murmur as an afterthought.

	He laughs. "Right! So... why don't you just go in there and TELL him
instead of causing all this angst and have things like this happen?"

	I sigh. "Because I like writing songs about him. I like writing poetry
about him. I like jacking off thinking about him. I like thinking that maybe
there could be a chance, as long as I don't blow it by taking it into a
physical hope. If I tell him and he says no... there's the end of all these
delicious sins I've allowed myself to have."

	Brendan whispers softly.... "And if he says yes.... you can still do all
those things with the exception that you won't have to jack off anymore.
He'll be doing that for you."

	"Satan," I whisper back, trying to ignore the fire his words set alight in
my groin. "You tempting demon."

	Brendan shakes his head. "No. You're the demon. And who _knows_ who you've
been tempting?"

	And with that, he gets up and slips out of my room, leaving me to stare
after him in wonder. After a while, I hear voices outside my door, and then
a tentative knock that I know instantly to be Miah's. Getting off my bed, I
open the door. Coming face to face with Miah is always a shock to me, its
like the vision of his face kickstarts my soul everytime. His ocean
green-blue eyes lock onto mine timidly, his damningly handsome features
break out into a hesitant smile.

	"Hey," he says softly, admirably holding up against the bridge between us.

	"Hey," I return back, quietly, trying without seeming obvious to eradicate
the bridge. I offer him an apologetic smile and glance down for a moment,
unable to meet his gaze as understanding crashes through it and makes it
painfully radiant and beautiful. I can feel my heart throbbing. I just want
to pull you in here, I whisper silently to him. Make you understand why I
act the way I do sometimes.

	"Brendan went to go get drinks. Remember that night he promised us?"

	I laugh softly and nod. "Yeah," I reply. "Sounds good."

	We gaze at each other for a moment longer, and just when I'm starting to
get the idea to pull him into my arms and kiss those sugar-dusted lips, he
breaks the eye contact with a slight smile and heads back into the living
room, pulling glasses out of the cabinet in the half-kitchen. I stare at him
hopelessly, watching how his body moves, and smiling to myself as I hear his
protests echoing in my memory about how he could never be a dancer. Yeah
right, I think to myself helplessly, watching his arms and hips move like
silk under water.

	But then Brendan comes back in, bearing paper-bag clad bottles with a huge
grin. Miah turns, sees him and starts to laugh, and before I can help it,
I'm laughing, we're all laughing, and above it all, Miah's gaze is locked
with mine, a smile so perfect on his face that it makes me feel like maybe
telling him wouldn't be so bad.

*	*	*	*

	"So. What's your preference, guys? Hard rock to piss off the neighbours, or
some heavy jungle beats?"

	I shrug non-commitaly at Brendan, and glance over at Shae to see what he's
got to say. But I grin as I see that he is beyond caring; he is sprawled out
in the armchair, grinning at the ceiling, a slender glass of some unearthly
concoction of alchohol hanging limply from one relaxed hand. Brendan looks
over questioningly at me, but seeing my gaze on Shae, looks over to him
instead and starts laughing.

	"Shae?" He asks, tossing a cd case into his lap.

	Shae jumps and levels a mock-angered look at Brendan, tossing the cd back
but missing the mark by a few feet, crashing it into the wall.

	"Whoops."

	Brendan just rolls his eyes and puts on a cd of his own selection, leaving
Shae to relax again. I grin and walk over to him, standing above him while
reaching to get his glass.

	"What is in this thing, Shae?" I ask him, peering into the dark amber
depths worriedly. Sloshing it around, I sniff it experimentally, and then
reel back, sputtering. "Jesus God! It smells like ammonia!"

	Shae giggles and looks up at it discerningly, taking his time on answering
me.

	"Crown Royal, tequilla, and some strange kind of rum. Spice rum. I think."

	I stare at him and shake my head increduously and head to the kitchen to
dump it down the sink. Two hours into the night and Shae's sloshed. I don't
think he needs anymore. As I pour it down, I call over my shoulder to him.

	"I'm pouring it out, okay? I don't think you need to intoxicate yourself
any further.."

	"...Or maybe it was coconut. It could have been coconut. It sort of tasted
like shampoo...."

	"Shae? Are you listening to me?"

	"...but I've never actually tasted shampoo..."

	"Sh-ae...."

	"Mmmm?"

	"I'm pouring it out."

	"That's okay."

	"You sure?"

	"Yeah. There's lots more where that came from."

	No there isn't, I tell him firmly, in my head. But I just smile agreeably
at him and get my own drink, sitting down next to Brendan, who has got the
music going and is beating out the drum pattern on the glasses sitting on
the table using chopsticks. Lost in his own little world. I watch him for a
while, smiling as he gets most of the patterns right, and laugh endlessly
when he spills half the contents of one glass on the table, resulting from a
too enthusiastic cymbal finish. Shae watches this with drunken interest, and
can only kick Brendan in the side when Brendan tries to use Shae's shirt to
clean up the mess.

	Watching him silently, the stupid dreamy smile on my face intensifies as he
starts to sing to the beat, his voice let loose in tones of amber and gold,
quite melodic and soothing. His eyes are closed, the golden lashes resting
lightly on his cheeks, his smile ever-present and sensual, his body strung
out across the chair, one leg swung over the armrest. So easy to straddle...

	Blinking, I look away, and stand up, finding the room suddenly too hot.
Trekking over to the kitchen, I put my glass in the sink and head to my
room, looking to change into something more light. Brendan pays no heed,
laughing at Shae's made up words to the song, and Shae follows me with his
eyes but says nothing. Slipping into my room, I flick on the light and head
to the closet, rummaging in its elusive depths for a t-shirt. Sighing as I
do so, I cannot help it as my gaze wanders over to my bedside table, seeing
the infamous picture of he and I at graduation. I stop looking for the shirt
as I stare, the alchohol feeling like a thousand tiny gnats running through
my body. I didn't have as much as the other two.. but enough to seriously
give my libido a kick, especially when looking at that picture.

	I become lost in the photographed eyes of Shae as I stare, unable to
comprehend how even through glossy paper their beauty cannot become
trivialized or explained. Groping still for a shirt, I pull one out and
close the closet door, still staring as I begin to take off the shirt I am
wearing. Undoing the buttons, I slip it off my arms and am about to toss it
onto the bed when Shae suddenly appears at my side. Jumping, I start at him,
and he grins.

	"Sorry, sorry. Chillax," he says quietly, putting a hand on my arm. His
touch is like a sudden gunshot, and I have to jerk away from it slightly.

	"It's okay," I say quickly and smile at him, throwing the shirt onto the
bed. The cool air of the room and Shae's soft scent envelopes my bare skin,
leaving goosebumps to adorn it tellingly. He watches me for a moment, and
then looks away as I find his gaze.

	"Just wanted to make sure you were okay," he says, sitting on the edge of
the bed and gazing up at me. "You kinda left in a hurry."

	"Yeah," I say thickly, the unused t-shirt still dangling from my hand. "I'm
fine.. it was just.. really hot in there. I came in to change and then was
going to come back."

	Shae nods, and then stands quickly. "Oh. Okay... well... I'll go.."

	But as he rests a hand on the doorknob to leave, I reach out to him,
stopping him.

	"No..." I say softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's okay... you
can stay. I'm not getting.. naked or anything. It's just my shirt."

	Hearing this, he turns slightly to regard me with bright blue eyes. I stare
into them for a moment, and another bout of silence ensues before he nods
with a strange smile and looks away, seating himself again. Swallowing, I
move away, pulling the shirt over my head.

	"So..." Shae says lightly, and out of the corner of my eye, I see him
extend a finger to the picture on my bedside, running the tip of his finger
along the frame slowly. "Brendan's pretty cooked, huh?"

	I grin and nod, running my hands through my hair in a vain attempt to
smooth it down.

	"Yeah.. I haven't seen him drunk in so long.. I forgot how funny he is."

	Shae laughs and nods in agreement, lying back on the bed, his arms behind
his head and his gaze locked on me. I try not to shiver. The tiny golden
hairs on his smooth arms shine softly in the lamp light.

	"Yeah.. I'm going to have to thank him in the morning. Wow. I'm...
really... buzzed."

	I grin impishly at him.

	"Yeah," I say dryly. "I noticed."

	Giggling at his wink, I approach the bed, sitting down next to him quietly.
We are silent for a while, and then Shae moans softly, sleepily.

	"Mmmm. I forgot hom comfy your bed is, Miah..."

	I smile slightly, watching him. "Then sleep. I can sleep in your bed."

	He chuckles softly and opens his eyes, shaking his head slowly.

	"No.. that's not right. I'll get up. I swear. In a few minutes..."

	I grin knowingly and shake my head at the room in general, sliding down
next to him so that we are both lying on the bed. His comforting warmth
radiates off him like a heater, and I become drowned in it as he lies there.
For maybe fifteen minutes we lie there, and then I feel Shae stir. Opening
my eyes, I see him delievering an impatient, fatigued glare at the
lightswitch. Catching me looking at him, he offers me a tender,
self-depricating smile and gestures lamely.

	"Stupid light," he says softly. "The Force isn't working. It won't turn
itself off."

	I laugh, and struggling out of bed, I pad over to the light, flicking it
off. Rising out of the darkness, I hear Shae's slightly more alert voice
admonishing me.

	"Aww.. you didn't have to do that. I would have."

	"I know," I tell him with a darkness-hidden grin. "But that's okay. I
didn't mind."

	"Mmmm..."

	His voice is gentle and sweet, layered over with a slow, erotic purr of
sleepiness. Crawling back into the bed again, I slip under the covers as
carefully as I can, leaving him as much room as possible. After a while, I
hear him moving again, the rustling of the sheets never sounding sweeter.

	"Miah...?" He asks, his voice in a drawl.

	"Yeah?" I reply.

	"Are you under the sheets?"

	I nod. He seems to realize this.

	"I'm cold," he says after a moment.

	"So come under here, you idiot," I tell him lightly, but inwardly almost
screaming with desire.

	And he does. Shifting slightly, I feel him ease himself under the sheets,
his body brushing mine maddeningly as he moves closer. And then:

	"Do you want me to go back to my room?"

	"No." I say quickly, feverently.

	"Okay. What about Brendan?"

	I think on this for a moment, not wanting anything to come between him and
I right now. Not now... not when things were so close...

	"He'll sort himself out. Probably fall asleep on the couch as usual."

	"Mmmm...okay."

	I can feel him shivering, but it is a discreet shivering. I know he's
trying not to bother me with it.. and somehow that just drives me crazier.

	"Shae..." I whisper...

	He doesn't say anything, but I know he can hear me. So I begin to move
closer, hesitantly closer.

	"You're shivering," I whisper, more to myself than him, I think, trying to
justify what I am about to do..

	"I'm okay," he whispers back, but he is moving too, and slowly his arms are
around me, and my hands are clutching him tight. The feeling of his
shivering reverberates throughout his whole body, and I can hear his breath
becoming warped because of it. So I hold him closer and tighter until
eventually it begins to slow down, and his breathing comes back to normal.

	"How did you get so cold?" I ask him softly.

	"I don't know. Sometimes it just happens... I feel like I'm swimming in
ice..."

	I nod, and we lie together in silence for a while longer, me simply dying
to feel him so close to me again, the strength of his body encased within my
touch, his beauty held captive for now. But when I realize he has stopped
shivering, I tell myself to let go. And so I begin to, slowly, reluctantly.

	"Miah..."

	I stop. "Yeah?"

	"Don't.... don't let.. go. Please... just... for a little longer. You give
the best hugs in the world..."

	Can I melt all over you? I ask him silently, almost brought to tears by the
yearning in his voice. But, with a lump in my throat, I cannot respond, so I
simply nod and pull him close again, almost short-circuiting as I feel him
relax and hear him sigh contentedly.

	"I do not," I say, with a slight, stupid smile.

	"Yes, you do," he responds in a muffled tone, his face buried in my neck.
"You so do. They're so awesome... it's like you're pouring your whole heart
into it... your whole being. Like a gift or something."

	I stare into the darkness, not knowing what to say to THAT. Breathing in
the subtle sweetness of his hair, I remain blushingly silent. And then:

	"I'm sorry about earlier today."

	I remain quiet, not wanting to speak about it. So I just squeeze him
lightly.

	"I don't know what came over me."

	"You were just tired," I whisper softly.

	"No... I was being an asshole..."

	I shake my head feverishly, and he moves slightly out of my arms, and I can
feel him gazing at me.

	"No.. I was. And I'm sorry."

	I don't say anything; acutely conscious of his breath falling like perfumed
rain on my cheeks.

	"Miah..." And here his voice changes. Something about the pitch and the
timbre drops, becomes something else. Something so purely sweet and yearning
that it makes me blink, my body to freeze. He whispers my name again, and
the tones shake, along with his hands. Before I can try to assess what is
going on, I feel his fingers caressing my cheek, his breathing changing and
strengthening. Swallowing, I try to respond to him, but the movement of his
hand across my cheek leaves me numb and breathless, the slowness of the
touch not allowing me to keep my mind out of the gutter. His fingers are
trembling... his whole body is trembling... I don't understand what is going
on...

	"I love you..."

	I can hear myself gasp helplessly as he says this, and tears begin to flow
for reasons I am not entirely sure of. So I hold onto him as best I can,
wanting to tell him that I love him too.. but wanting to explain so much
more than that. But I never get the chance.

	"So.. much..."

	And then his fingers are moving hesitantly through my hair, across my face
and my neck, like dancers unsure of the terrain. They move like spiders,
touching down with the elusiveness of webs before becoming frightened and
pushing themselves off again. So maddeningly unsure... so darkly sticky
sweet...

	"I love you too..'' I whisper thickly, and I feel him moving closer and
closer, his body pressing up against mine tightly, his fingers not stopping,
moving timidly down my chest.

	"Miah..." he whispers again, his voice awash with something that I
increduously realize is desire. So I press against him tightly, and don't
let his hand move away from my chest. Clutching it there, I tremble along
side him, not sure of what to do, but words being on the tip of my tongue...

	"You're drunk," I whisper silently, but then one of his hands slips behind
my neck, and with a strangled whimper, he moves closer, hesitating before
searing my lips with his own in a kiss that makes my whole body explode. My
brain wheels in shock, and my whole body stiffens, but my mouth unfreezes
quickly and begins to hungrily kiss him back, our lips sealed together with
the tryst of passion, desperate whimpers escaping his throat and making me
moan. I know he's crying... I taste salt on his tongue... and I know he's
shaking, his mind demanding him to stop... but he keeps kissing me, tiny
little kisses that taste of tears and timelessness, his lips wet with the
crystalline trails touching his cheeks, his breathing ragged as we
intercept.

	I can taste Crown Royal in the touch, making it all the more bittersweet...
and his kiss is intensifying, throbbing in my mouth, his whole body
overpowering mine in an instant. I've got a hard-on so intense that I'm
almost crying from the pain of it, but he keeps kissing and kissing and
kissing me...letting me see the part of him no-one's ever been able to see.
I know without asking that this is the closest he's ever let anyone get to
him... letting himself cry...

	But then a knock on the door sends us flying apart, as if an electric
current was sent through our combined touch. Shae jerks away with a gasp,
and I find myself standing beside the bed, my heart thudding in my chest,
the taste of him still on my lips, still drugging my senses. Shaking, I
fling out a hand to turn on the light, blinking painfully in the sudden
brightness that floods the room. Shae is sitting on the edge of the bed,
pale as a ghost, one trembling hand raised to his lips, where it lies there
fluttering, his eyes glassy and unfocused. He sits strangely, as if he is
not sure where the ground is, the other hand extended slightly above the bed
as if to catch himself if he fell backwards. My heart bleeds as I stare at
him, and I long to say something, anything to calm that frantic, wild gaze,
stop the emotions that I know are beginning to crash through him, but the
door is being knocked on again, more insistantly.

	So I tear my gaze away from him and yank open the door, staring
uncomprehendingly out into the brightness that sallies forth from it.
Brendan is standing there, looking puzzled.

	"Hey," he says, looking over my shoulder to find Shae, and then
transferring his now confused and wary gaze back to me slowly.

	"Hey," I echo hollowly, aching to slam the door and fall to my knees in
front of Shae, take his hands and kiss him again and again, to assure him
that it wasn't wrong.. convince him not to leave me again...

	Brendan eyes me oddly, and then begins to back away slowly, gesturing
towards the couch.

	"Um... is... it okay if... I sleep here tonight? My roomate locked the door
to my place and I don't exactly feeling like breaking the shit out of the
door to get back in..."

	I nod wordlessly.

	"O-kay..." Brendan says, his dark eyes bottomless with worry. "See you...
in the morning... then."

	I nod at him again and close the door, listening to it click into place
before turning to find Shae. He is still sitting in the same position that I
left him, except now blotches of colour have come back to his complexion,
unhealthy patches of red amongst the plaster white. He is staring
sightlessly at the wall, and I take a few hesitant steps towards him. He
doesn't look at me as I approach, but when I go to sit down next to him, he
jerks slightly, as if shocked.

	"Shae," I whisper desperately, reaching out a hand to touch his arm.

	He stays still for a second, and then in a strangled voice: "I need to get
another drink." And with that, he stands quickly, almost tearing for the
door. But I am ready for this, and I grip him with an iron hold, forcing him
back down onto the bed, where he transfers horrified eyes onto me. I force
him to keep looking at me, and try to talk to him.

	"Don't go... please.. don't go.." I shake him a little with each word, fear
gripping me like a vice.

	He stares up at me, blinking rapidly.

	"Look," I tell him desperately, pushing him back to lying on the bed again.
"You need sleep. Just stay here, okay? It's warm in here... just stay." He
stares up at me like a three-year-old, not moving or protesting as I throw
the covers over him again, cucooning him in a despairing attempt to get him
to stay. Crawling in beside him after I turn out the light, I squeeze my
eyes shut, praying he won't jolt out of the room, or start to say anything.
Just fall asleep, I pray to him silently, my whole body tense with the fear.
Don't say anything... pretend like it didn't happen.. you were drunk... just
_don't leave me again_. Not after doing this to me.

	"We can talk about this in the morning," I say as quietly as I am able, and
I listen for a response, but don't recieve any.

	For hours I lie awake, listening to his breathing start to regulate, not
understanding how he is able to sleep. He was drunk, I keep reminding
myself. It probably didn't mean anything. He was horny. It didn't mean
anything.. and he knows this.. so this is why he is able to sleep.... he
knows that I know he's drunk.... oh Jesus... Oh fucking good God.... I can't
believe this..... I got my dream... and now... it... it's gone. That's it.
Nothing can ever happen now... because I know what's going to come of this.
Either he'll completely forget about it, or he'll feel so ashamed, that we
won't ever talk again. He'll avoid me like wildfire.

	Closing my eyes unhappily, I feel his warmth beside me, but it does not
warm me. It makes me shiver with ice cold. And so, frozen, I fall into a
dreamless, fitful sleep.

*	*	*	*

	When I awaken, it is to the empty feeling of the bed beside me. I've never
felt such a feeling before, only ever read about it in those sappy romance
novels that I have to put down after page five because they disgust me so
much. But now I understand it. The hollowness of the space beside me where
something solid once lay howls at me ceaselessly until I awaken. I open my
eyes in dread, not understanding at first what is wrong. All I know is that
I feel like the colour grey.. so deep I cannot move. I lie there in
paralyzing depression for a while, trying to trace its leaden paths back to
their occurance, and then with a massive jolt that almost sends me choking
on the very air I breathe, the memories of last night slam me full force.

	"Oh my God," I whisper, the feeling of Shae's lips on my own hanging there
like a ghost, the memory of his tentative hands creeping across my chest and
face...

	"Oh... fuck..." I whisper in the same deadened tone and feel myself curl
inwards, my pillow becoming clutched in my hands against my chest, and my
knees brought up to embrace it. I stare with brightly burning eyes at the
empty space beside me, my gaze burning holes in the pillow that still has a
depression in it from Shae's head, the blankets that still hold his form,
the sheets that still smell like his skin. Swallowing painfully past the
lump in my throat, I reach out a hand to lie in the area where he slept,
and, as I expected and dreaded, the area is cold, bereft of his warmth. He
has been gone for quite a while. Staring for a bit longer, I transfer my
gaze to my alarm clock, the blood-red numbers flashing the time to me
insistantly. Twenty minutes before class. I know he's not in the dorm... so
he must be at class. The same one I am going to. Blinking back tears and
pain, I heave myself out of bed, not being able to bear being so close to
that place where he was. Where he gave himself so completely to me for those
brief, orgasmic seconds.

	Getting dressed without paying attention to what I am wearing, I trudge out
of the room to the bathroom, glancing at Shae's door. Wide open, revealing
nothingness inside. He's left. Withholding a groan, I kick open the washroom
door, not pausing to see if Brendan is still on the couch. Brushing my teeth
and hair, I stare sightlessly at myself in the mirror, my mind re-playing
the events of last night over and over in my head, all the while cursing
alchohol. Finally done, I head to the front door, shrugging into my coat and
hefting my backpack to my shoulders. I look over to the couch then, and see
Brendan sitting there, composed, staring silently at me.

	"What?" I ask him shortly, stopping in my movements.

	"Nothing..." he says slowly, standing and putting on his coat, grabbing his
bag. "Just waiting on you."

	I watch him.

	He watches me back, and then drops his gaze, his bright orange hair looking
somehow ridiculous in the face of all this. But his cat-like movements and
quiet, amber voice as he speaks to me calms me down, deadens my wild
despair.

	"So.. Shae kind of... stormed out of here this morning. Didn't even seem to
acknowledge that I was here at all. What... happened?"

	I sigh, and bite my lower lip deeply, hard.

	"Nothing, Brendan," I say curtly, heading out the door. "Just forget about
it, please."

	Brendan glances quickly at me as I say this, and I know he is hurt; the
expression in his sand-coloured eyes leaves me feeling even worse but still
unable to say anything. But he doesn't say anything, and we walk in silence
to our first class, me staring at the uniform ground, half-dreading to walk
into class and see Shae there, but hoping like hell that when I do, somehow
it'll all get fixed. Holding my breath as we walk down the hall, I hold open
the door to the classroom for Brendan before I exhale and walk in after him.
Smiling weakly at the muttered greeting from the professor, I quickly sneak
a glance over to Shae's chair and stop dead in the middle of the room.

	He isn't there.

	Blinking and swallowing, my brain repeats this several hollow times, my
eyes locked on his empty chair. He never misses a class. Never. I see
Brendan out of the corner of my eye, he has stopped too, and is staring. I
look for a moment longer, wondering vaguely if I am going to throw up out of
self-loathing, and then move away, throwing myself into my seat. Throughout
the whole lesson, I avoid looking at his seat, but feeling it ever present
in my mind, its emptiness screaming hate and fear into the depths of my
tempest-struck paradigm.

*	*	*	*