Date: Mon, 3 Mar 2014 22:08:04 +0700
From: Robert Glass <robxglass@gmail.com>
Subject: Marc and Luke chapter 10

All right reserved. Any unauthorized use is prohibited. This is a
fiction. Any resemblance to people and/or events is coincidental. If
reading this deemed illegal to you, I implore you to stop. If it offends
you, please do not read on.

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CHAPTER 10: The Wind is Blowing Cold


One moment I was happy, the next, I'm vanquished.

All I wanted was him, and for him to be at home with me, and to see him be
happy. Yet, I threw him a curve ball, didn't let him adjust on his term,
and fucked it up. He was always ready, he was just unprepared. I was a
humongous jerk. I was the evil that Luke was so afraid he would turn into.

I didn't break him, this time. I destroyed him.

I find my keys on the coffee table. This time it's final. I'm
unredeemable. I have to return his keys.

I go to our therapy the next day. He's not there. The therapist says that
Luke informed her that he will never come again. He requested for the bill
to be charged to him. I make an immediate action, I pay for it right there.

I go to his apartment, this time with no plan of slipping his keys through
the crack of his door. I need to see him. I need to apologize. Most
importantly, I have to know that he doesn't hurt himself. My soft knocking,
mild pounding, or loud banging on the door meets no answer. It's dark. The
last time I wanted to return his keys I was planning to slip it under his
door but ended up consoling him. Now I want to talk to him but I end up
sliding his key in.

It's over. It actually is over.



My relationship with him is over. My determination to make sure that he's
alright lives on. I spend the next week returning to the places that are
memorable to us. I visit his apartment every day, finding him not there or
not answering. I go to the Coles where he work, I never did see him. What I
fear the most is to find him lying on the pavement, bloody and lifeless,
outside the office where he used to intern. Thank God that nightmare
doesn't turn into reality. I'm an unsuccessful stalker, it seems. I follow
his shadows, never his flesh. I don't know where his flesh is. I need a
clue.

But I'm lucky. I found him just when I stopped looking for him three weeks
later. Maybe 'lucky' is not the accurate word.

"Luke?" We are in downtown Melbourne. He's wearing neat and handsome
attire. He lost lots of weight during our time together, I guess he keeps
up with this healthy lifestyle. We know it's good for his depression.

"Marcus." He pours no affection into my name. It hurts.

"We need to talk."

He smirked. "Gosh, I hate to hear that. We've managed to get through our
entire time together without either of us saying those words. Eh, those are
the better days." Impale me with icy words, Luke, go on.

"Yeah, we..."

"I really, really hate hearing those words." He cuts me with that casual
wording. I don't know if it's good or bad. "'We need to talk'. It makes me
nervous and scared, and I know the talk will be worse. I'll feel even worse
when the talking is actually finished. On that note, I don't think we
should talk."

"Luke, please," I beg. I almost drop to one knee seeing his steely eyes.

He sighs. "Sure. Here and now. I don't want to go to a private place
because I will burst into tears like some whiny faggot."

Does he know that I hiss in aching internally whenever he and the word
'faggot' are in close proximity?  "Fine."

"What is it?"

He walks, I follow him. "I need to apologize," I say.

"You don't have to. I know you're sorry. I'm sorry too for being such a
shitty boyfriend."

"No, you were not. You were the..."

He gives me a finger, gesturing me to stop. "Just let me take the blame. I
don't want to hear you say I wasn't being a shitty boyfriend. If you do,
I'll leave you and I'm going to kill you if you follow me."

He's dead serious. I resign. I have another thing in my agenda. "I need to
explain to you why I did why I did. It was just that one time. I didn't
think that..."

"Let me guess." He interrupts me a lot today. "You feel tired. You couldn't
stand seeing me not making the effort to call you and instead I left you
hanging all the time. You've done so much and I didn't seem to reciprocate
enough. I had a depression, you wanted to help me, but I didn't make it
easy for you. I didn't talk to you enough. You felt like I'm just out of it
and you've had it. You wanted something easier or someone saner. There you
have it, you had sex with another guy; an easy and sane guy. I'm
guessing... sober, because you wanted to be sure if that's what you really
wanted."

Spot on, as always. My composure is falling. I know he can see it in my
whole body. I'm about to cry.  He's the only guy who knows me and my entire
being. He still knows me even when he resents me. "I'm so sorry."

A tear falls.

"It is okay, Marc. It's fine." He reached for my shoulder, stoic and
cold. "I didn't call at all so you assumed that we were done. You thought
that we were done. It was my fault for not making it clear."

Stoic and cold. I know this. This is him not loving me anymore. Worse, I
know that he fell back into his depression. He doesn't cry. He doesn't show
any sad emotion. Only a smile, stoic and cold. I destroyed him. "No, no. It
was never your fault. Please, Luke. Don't blame yourself."

I broke my promise; it's now seemingly so natural to me. He asked me one
thing and I couldn't keep my words. He closes his eyes and shakes his
head. He sighs, disappointed by the outcome. "Oh, Marc." He turns and
leaves.

I run after him and take one of his arm. I can't recollect how many times I
have done this to him.  Physically and spiritually catching him and asking
him to stay while never meeting the promise. "Luke, please. I'm sorry. I
love you. I need you."

"And I don't need anybody, because I learned to be alone. Now, if you'll
excuse me, I want to go back to that," he says. "Just... Just don't follow
me."

He leaves. I can't follow him. I'm crying on the sidewalks of downtown
Melbourne, under the heat of this bloody summer, amid a crowd that starts
to stop and stare. I, the self-proclaimed masculine, athletic, stud of an
alpha-man, am crying in public.

How can I not cry? I have ruined the first and only man I ever loved. I
have ruined a man who leaves his trust and love in my hand. I cut him open,
saw his insides, poked around and left him to die.

I am the man with scalpel.



I haven't moved on. I still follow him around from afar for the next couple
of months or so. I need to see him safe and healthy. He hasn't killed
himself, so he's safe. His smoking never stops. He burns those sticks of
poison with passion, just like before. Perhaps he smokes a little less, but
it's just my wishful thinking. Aside from that, he keeps his healthy
lifestyle. He has a job that doesn't overwork him. He still works out,
obviously not at the gym we used to go to. His diet is good; or at least
his diet for the dinner.  I can't possibly know what he has for lunch. I
still have a research to finish.

How I regret taking microbiology instead of neurobiology.

I certainly haven't moved on. I still follow him around, for fuck's
sake. I'm turning into a lunatic that follows his ex around. Seeing him
from afar is about to be the worst torture I have inflict upon myself.
Also the best. Luke still looks world weary from time to time which is
normal for him, but I can see that he leads a better life. He smiles a lot
to his coworkers. He's polite to those who service him. I saw a couple of
guys and girls did a double take on him. Some even checked his ass as he
passes by. I know he feels good about himself now.

Even on his graduation ceremony which he attended alone. Even on his
birthday which nobody celebrated.

He's moved on. I can tell that he's dating a guy for the last
month. They're probably boyfriends now, seeing how often they see each
other. That guy's tall, probably as tall as me. He's blonde, handsome, and
muscular from what I've seen. I can see that Luke has a type. I smile to
myself because now I know one more thing about him, even when I don't
actually "see" him. This guy seems to be a local. His smile is infectious,
just like Luke's. I can tell that Luke's smitten by him as much as this guy
is by Luke. Good.  He's happy now.

The most important thing is that this guy treats Luke well. That's the best
thing I've found out about all this. He smothers Luke with touches. He
holds Luke everywhere they go. He takes Luke's wrist and let Luke follow
his pace since they share the same interest of walking fast through the
crowd. That's good.  If they're not touching when they're walking, Luke
will always be trailing two steps behind. I see him nod, smile, or laugh at
whatever that comes out of this guy's mouth.

The chase that this guy takes to get Luke wasn't nearly as long as the
length that I had to go through.  Luke falls right away to this guy. Luke
likes him more than me. Peculiar though how Luke can't seem to say no to
this guy. He always nods, smiles, or laughs. This guy is obviously taking
control. Maybe Luke is indeed a submissive boy. Maybe I wasn't dominant
enough for him. Maybe Luke likes this Dom/sub lifestyle to be 24/7. Ah,
that's just an assumption made by my jealous mind.

I start to let go of him. I'm done with this, now I know that Luke is in
good hands. He deserves this. He deserves someone better than me. He has
strived for so long for a guy like this stud. A stud that loves him back,
treats him more than well, and is patient with him.

I follow them for the last time tonight.

They've finished a dinner. Something's not right. They're arguing. I've
seen them done this before, a week ago. That's normal. I can't count how
many times I argued with Luke once we started to become boyfriends. A
little disagreement is compulsory.

This fight seems to be bigger than the last time. The guy storms out of the
restaurant they were having dinner in, looking a little pissed. Luke is not
far behind. When Luke reaches for his arm, he rejected it.  Okay, this guy
is more than a little pissed. Luke looks desperate, maybe he's
apologizing. The guy wouldn't hear him. I assume he ordered Luke to get
into his car and Luke obeys. His face looks dejected.  I know Luke well
enough to be sure that he's feeling guilty right now. Luke has to start to
forgive himself.

I follow them, I need to see if Luke's okay.

I already know where they're apartment is so I can take a different route
from the one that they take. I know Luke hasn't moved in yet, he doesn't
come home with this guy every night. Wow, I know that? I'm such a creep!

When I reach his place, they were already in their room. It's on the second
floor so I can still observe from across the street in the safety of the
car that I borrowed. I can't see them per se but it's enough for me. I
don't want to see them have sex anyway, my jealousy can kill me!

Their window is open. I lower my window. They're making such a noise and
I'm surprised that none of their neighbors protested yet. I can hear them
arguing although not word per word.

They are not arguing. That guy is definitely berating Luke! Who is stupid
enough to have a household fight with the windows open?

I hear a loud smack. Did this guy just hit Luke? I can't tell. I can't see
them. Another smack. Is that a thud? Is that a groan? Is that Luke's groan?
I can hear Luke's voice. He's... apologizing? I hear another thud and
another groan. I hear a smack again. Luke is at the windowsill.

Who the fuck is stupid enough to torture a guy with the windows open? Who
the fuck is stupid enough to hurt Luke like that?!

Luke looks at me. I'm so dead! I can't take my eyes of him. His face is a
bloody, snotty, bright red mess.  He's not even crying. I took out my
phone, ready to call 000. Behind him the larger guy puts the cigarette back
to his mouth and then reaches for Luke's hair. With eyes still locked at
mine, Luke smiles and shakes his head. Is asking me directly not to call?
What the fuck Luke?!

Suddenly his head is pulled back at the hair by this muscular arm. He locks
Luke head around one of his large arms. Luke cannot breathe. I cannot
breathe. I cannot stop looking.

I can, finally, call 000.

That doesn't mean I can speak to whoever that answered. My eyes are fixated
to the view I have, so close that I can see it all but so far that I can't
do anything at all.

That guy took the cigarette of his mouth and I can clearly hear him say,
"Shut the fucking window, you stupid faggot. I don't want any witness."

My heart races! My hand is shaking. The guy on the other side of the line
is calling me repeatedly yet I can't for the life of me talk to him. I'm so
fucking scared. I'm so fucking scared for Luke's life.

That bastard took the cigarette off his mouth and before I know it, he
burns Luke's cheek with that cigarette. I guess he told Luke to close the
curtain too because that's what he did after he shut the window, amid the
choking and burning he's receiving.

I'm finally out of petrification. I'm finally speaking.

I beg the operator to come as soon as possible because now I see that the
curtain is ripped open by Luke's body. He's flailing without power or
control. That guy took his hair again and shoves Luke's head to the clear
glass. Blood is flowing freely from his nose and mouth. His burnt cheek is
nasty. The guy behind him begins to undo his belt, I think. I'm now
standing outside the car, looking at Luke who is looking back at me. He's
trying hard to shake his head no to me.

He smiles. I cry.

I rage. I run in and upstairs to the second floor. I've gone berserk. I
scream Luke's name between heaves and bang all the door on second floor
simultaneously. One of these doors hides my bleeding, suffering Luke. One
of these doors keeps the abuser safe. One door does not open.

I lunge myself into that slab of solid wood. I kick the stubborn
doorknob. Nothing happened. I'm completely and utterly desperate. My whole
soul shattered.

Please, door, just collapse. I need to see him; I need to save him. After
all I've done, I can't let this happen to him.

Oh my God, I destroyed Luke.


___

It seems like I just run around and touch every single sensitive issues out
there. I'm sorry if this is disturbing and or inaccurate. Please forgive my
tactlessness. I just feel that the story has to go this way.

Thank you to Mr. Knight for pointing out a glaring inconsistency which I
did not see and ultimately convincing me to adjust it accordingly.

As always, you can send me an email and visit my blog. The email is up
there at the top of this page. The blog is xglass.tumblr.com.

Cheers!