Author's Note: This, for those of you who are incapable of independent 
thought, is a gay love story. It's got no sex, just a romance and major 
angst. If the smut is what you're looking for, see this story's 
predecessor, "Dimitri", which will explain the back story for the lovers 
pictured hereinbelow. This story is rated R for violence and coarse 
language. This story is (c) 1997 by Novus Homo (a pseudonym), and is a 
complete work of fiction. Comments to ganymede@hotmail.com. Compliments, 
congratulations, constructive criticism, and corrections (talk about 
awkward and affected alliteration) will be cheerfully responded to; 
flames will be cheerfully ignored. Enjoy the show.

INCIDENT
by Novus Homo

...I am hurt.
A plague on both your houses! I am sped.
-William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

It all started with milk. I needed milk. It was a beautiful summer night 
and I realized that if Ididn't get some tonight, we'd be out of it for 
breakfast in the morning.

"Hey Meech!"

"Yeah?" responded Dimitri, my husband. He flipped off the t.v.

"You wanna go with me to get some milk? We're all out."

"Sure, Steve, whatever. There's nothing on the tube anyway."

Dimitri got up off the sofa and moved with easy grace towards the door. 
I put on my backpack and took a look at my lover, as I liked to do as 
often as possible. His beautiful, thick black hair, which was touseled 
in the front and flowed in waves over his scalp down to his neck; his 
lovely face, which was his pride and my joy; his dark, deep eyes which 
pulled you in from across the room; his soft, clear, light skin which 
betrayed his half-Russian heritage. Under his quiet grey shirt was the 
muscular, but not bulging, frame of his, as well as the sweet spot on 
his back which makes him go nuts when I kiss it. Others might call him 
plain, but he was the most handsome creature I knew, and I was his 
husband! Kismet works in strange ways.

"You got the money?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah, Steve," he responded with the same ease with which he moved. 
We left the apartment together and I locked up.

We left the building and began to walk down Rachel St., to the depanneur 
two blocks down, and chatting about nothing in particular. Before we had 
gotten halfway, I heard a vicious voice behind me.

"Hey faggots! Goin' anywhere?" I whipped around, and this punk kid in a 
leather jacket was holding a knife and wearing a predatory leer on his 
face.  I heard another noise behind me and two other punks were 
advancing behind us. I turned pale. 

"Oh, Jesus Christ," blurted Dimitri. "Run, dammit!" Then they leapt on 
us. I dodged them, but one of the punks in the back brought a baseball 
bat across Dimitri's chest. He went down gasping, and the first kid took 
his knife and stabbed... oh god, he stabbed Dimitri!

I went ape shit! I grabbed this kid's arm and brought it down across my 
knee. The knife clattered to the ground and I snapped my leg up and 
nailed him in the jaw. He went out cold. The kid with the bat tried to 
bring it down on my head, but I ducked the blow, then let the momentum 
carry him forward and smashed my fist into his nether regions. He knelt 
gasping, then he got up and ran off with his buddy. I dropped to my 
knees and fighting back tears of terror, looked at Dimitri. 

He was unnaturally pale and gasping with the pain. His hand was held 
over his abdomen; blood was oozing out through his fingers. 

"Oh christ, oh christ oh christ" I muttered as I stripped his bloody 
shirt off and tied it around the wound. I pressed on it to try to stanch 
the blood , causing a sharp intake of breath. "We've got to get you to a 
hospital," I said. Way to state the obvious, Steve. My god, he was still 
conscious, his face screwed up in pain. 

Some angel must have been watching us because at that moment, one of 
Montreal's finest rounded the corner. He saw us and came running. 
"Qu'est-ce qui s'passe?" he demanded. 

"Help me," I pleaded in French. "He's been stabbed. He stabbed him," I 
said, pointing to the unconscious thug. The policeman pulled out his 
mike and ordered an ambulance. At this point, the punk came around and 
the policeman arrested him.

The ambulance came, and took Dimitri and me to the hospital. I stood out 
of the way of the paramedics performing first aid, until Dimitri gasped 
and moaned, "what happened?"

I went to him. "These - these guys attacked us, Meech. You got hurt," I 
choked. 

"'sit bad?"

"I don't know how b-bad it is. Does it hurt?"

"Yeah. Hurts."

His head rolled back and began to look up at the ceiling. He had lost 
consciousness. I retreated from his side where the paramedics were 
laboring to save his life, and wept.

***

His life was saved.

He lay in intensive care in the hospital, with an IV line in his arm and 
an unflattering blue hospital robe on. It had taken five hours and some 
large number of stitches to clean and close the wound and to replace the 
blood he had lost. Also, he had an ugly bruise and a scar on his temple 
where he had fallen to the pavement. I was by his side, holding his 
hand, and agonizing.

"I can't believe you still love me," I said. "I keep fucking up your 
life. First your dad disowns you, and now this..."

"Sshh, Steve," he said, with his normal good spirits returning. "Do you 
remember what I said the night you proposed to me?"

"How could I forget? 'It's his fault! His! If he's gonna be a homophobic 
bigoted fuckhead, it's him, not you! He can go to hell! I love *you*!'" 
we recited in unison. "Meech, you're so good to me."

"You too, Steve."

"Thanks for.." what? surviving? Easing my life? Being my friend since 
high school? "...being you." It was the single sappiest thing I could 
have said.

"You're welcome, I'm sure!" he said in an incredulous tone of voice, and 
I laughed until I wept again. 

"Dimitri?"

"Yea?"

"If you ever scare me like that again, I don't know what I'll do."

"How about this?" he said, and stretched one arm around my neck and 
pulled me down to where he was resting. He kissed me. The embrace lasted 
a long time, but not as long as I would have liked. I wanted it to last 
the rest of my life.

So far, it has.