Date: Mon, 27 Aug 2001 21:51:48 -0400
From: W.B. Harrell <wbharrell@hotmail.com>
Subject: In the Arms of an Angel 6

In the Arms of An Angel
Chapter 6

By: W.B. Harrell

Disclaimer:  Don't get caught and don't forget to clear your History and
Temp Internet Files.  As for you, dabeagle, see if I did what you said I
would do.  HAHAHAHA!!! Proved you wrong!  I told you ***maybe***.

Dedication:  To Cyan for being such a good little editor.  Thanks to all
that e-mailed me, I had close to fifty e-mails.  I tried to reply to you
guys, but once again gave up somewhere around 25.  Sorry I took so long
writing this.  I've had a rough time these past few days.  In confidence:  I
got bashed this weekend at the Mekkatri Lounge (a gay bar).  Last time I
ever go.  I still have a black eye.  I hope all those homophobic pigs get
flayed on strip of skin at a time.  Better yet, maybe they'll get pounded up
the ass with a ridiculously large dildo.  I hope they get the herpes,
gonorea, crabs, warts, genital rot,AIDs, and other assorted and painful
diseases.  But yet, I'm writing this story despite my trauma.  To be
truthful, a guy caught me coming out of the bar and punched me and called me
a "dirty fag".  To him, be the STD's of the world with my compliments.
Asshole.

Wisdom for Today:  True love dies.  And a rose would stink of shit if it
wasn't called a rose.  I hope Shakespeare rots in hell.  The man obviously
knew nothing about real life.


	I was ecstatic.  I had hugged Chaz.  I had came into contact with him.  I
had, even if it was only for an instant, shared his body heat, I had feasted
on his cologne, I had taken in his nice, clean scent.  I had absorbed all I
could of him.  I had shared his tears.
	I fingered the drying spots on my shirt.  It would be cheesy to say that I
would never wash this shirt, so I didn't.  Then I remembered.  Chaz had
wanted to speak to me.  I remembered his voice.  It was...beautiful.  Just
like the rest of him.  It was funny.  I was thinking of the boy of my dreams
and not even getting hard.  I guess love doesn't require sexual arousal.
	I jerked out of my thoughts and considered what I had just thought.  Did I
love this boy?  Was I really in love?  Was it possible...I'd never seen him
before, yet...I...loved him.
	"Dammit, Jason, you always jump in headfirst," I said to myself as I head
to the elevator.  I was without my I.V. of course.  After the episode I had
gotten when I returned from my RAPTUROUS meeting with Chaz, I managed to get
the nurses not to freak out if the little tube that pumped me full of salt
water got disconnected.
	I can hardly notice my bruised ribs as I chuckle to myself lightly.  What
on Earth could Chaz want to talk to me about?  How in hell was I going to
compose myself in a decent conversation around him. I all but drooled when I
saw him on T.V.  How could I possibly not get a wood in front of him, or
otherwise let on that he drove my hormones crazy?
	I looked for the surgery waiting room (only waiting room as the second
floor was the surgery ward).  I found it tucked in a corner between the
counseling area and chapel.  And I found him.  My angel.
	"Um...hi," he said.  I gulped and waved.  He motioned for me to sit down.
I did.
	"So...uh...how are you doing?" he asked uncertainly.
	"Pretty good, I guess," I said, "I'm still alive."
	"About that," he said a bit uncertainly still, "I wanted to talk to you
about that."
	"And I wanted to talk to you about it," I added wondering what the hell I
was going to say.
	"I...uh...just wanted to say that...uh...that I...I'm really glad you
didn't die, man," he said, "I don't think I could have handled that."  Did I
dare hope?  "A stranger dying right there in my arms I mean," he added
quickly.  My pea-sized hope shrunk dramatically.
	"I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you," I said, "I'll always be in your
debt for that; not many people have blood type AB-."
	"It was nothing, man, anyone would have done it," he said sheepishly.
	"No," I said, "not everyone would; what you did was brave and
courageous...and...admirable."  He shyly put his hand behind his neck and
started rubbing.  I had this unbearable urge to reach out and touch his
cheek.  To stroke it and stare into his eyes, losing myself in the twin seas
that perfectly matched mine.
	"So...um," when do you...um...get out?" he asked pensively.
	"Not soon enough," I murmured.
	"Say what?" he asked.
	"Nothing," I said.
	He pulled his hand from his neck and ran it through his blonde hair.  That
movement in itself almost caused me to kiss him then and there.  He looked
at me oddly.  I turned away and fiddled with my plastic patient's bracelet.
	"Where do I know you from?" asked Chaz suddenly, "I know that I've seen you
somewhere, I just can't place it."
	"I don't think I've ever met you anyplace in particular," I said, "I think
maybe we saw each other somewhere."
	"That must be it," he said.  There was an awkward silence.  I could tell
that words were going unspoken.  (Mine, namely.)
	"So...how are ya'lls car?" I asked.  He blinked, then grinned.
	"We ditched it...too many memories," he said.
	I nodded and began to pick lint from the couch.  "I...um...I wanted to ask
you," I said uncertainly, "did I, um, say anything after I was...you know?"
Chaz raised a perfect blonde eyebrow.
	"Why do you ask?" he prompted.
	"Just wondering," I said, wondering if he knew what I said.
	"I think you did," he said.  My gut dropped to my toes.
	"Wha...what was it?" I asked.
	"It was something like:  In the arms of an angel, far away from here.  In
the arms of an angel, you will find your comfort here," he sang it like the
angel he was.  I felt tears come to my eyes.
	"Are you okay, dude?" he asked as he put his arm around me.  Everything
came rushing back.  The hate, the slaps, the coldness.  Even the...darkness.
  The voices, the light.  I think I lost it there for a minute.  I cried and
cried, totally ashamed of myself.
	For, you see, in that moment, I realized that my parents never really hated
me.  They hated what they'd been taught to hate.  They'd hated their
inability to have their normal adult control of the situation.  They were
afraid of the unknown.  And they still loved me. And that made all the
difference.
	"I'm sorry I keep...*sniffle*...blubbering all over you," I said, managing
to bring my sobs down to a minimum.
	"It's okay, dude," he said still embracing me, "I'm here if you have
anything to say."  I opened my mouth then snapped it shut.  No way.  No
freaking way.
	"Maybe later," I said.
	"Okay," he said a bit disapointedly.  Just then a nurse walked in.
	"Mr. Porter, do you think you can be persuaded to come back to your room?"
she asked, annoyed.
	"Just a minute," I said.  She looked at her watch, tapped it, then stepped
out.
	"I guess that's my exit cue," said Chaz.  I stuck out my hand.
	"Don't be a stranger, huh," I said hopefully, "it gets *very* boring in
here."
	Chaz laughed that laugh and grasped my hands in a firm grip.  We stood
there for a moment, neither of us daring to take away our hands.  We moved
closer.  Closer.  Still closer.  I could feel his hot breath on my face.
He'd been chewing Big Red.
	His eyes sort of half closed and then opened very wide.  "Um, I gotta go,
kay dude?" he asked nervously.
	Was I just wishing, or was he about to kiss me?  I looked down, my hand was
still clasped in his.
	"Um..okay," I said, letting his hand go.  He waltzed out of the room like
the prince he was.
	I slumped down onto the hospital sofa and thought about what had just
happened.  Wow!  Did we just almost kiss?  Geez!  I smiled.  "I'll
definitely see you again, Chaz," I said to myself coyly before making my way
back to my room.
	As I hooked my I.V. back up and switched on the T.V. for some late-night
tube, I had already begun to work out a plan to seduce my angel.


Sorry it's so short guys.  Like I've said, I haven't had a whole lot of time
to write.