“Get off my cousin!” yelled the spiky-haired guy as he headed meaningfully for Tim. Tim wouldn’t see it coming though, not with his back to the oncoming aggressor.
Ben’s mind focused. He was on his feet within seconds and running toward Bryce’s cousin. Ben ploughed into his side, making the cousin trip, but he recovered and with surprising speed turned to elbow Ben in the face, knocking him down again.
Ben wasn’t as dazed this time. He looked up to find a crotch directly in front of him and punched it with his fist, managing to land two hits before the other guy stumbled backwards. Ben capitalized on his temporary advantage, punching, kicking, screaming, all in a wild violent blur until his adrenaline receded like the tide, and he found himself and Tim standing over two groaning, balled-up forms.
“Run,” Tim said when it became clear that Bryce intended to get up again.
They took off down the path, heading instinctively toward their homes. As they neared, Ben was surprised that Tim led them not to his own house, but to the Bentley’s. They stood in the driveway, panting to catch their breath between bursts of laughter. Both of them looked terrible, faces covered in blood with swollen red blotches that promised of bruises to come.
“Thanks,” Ben gasped when he could talk again.
“You and your big mouth,” Tim said with a grin, shaking his head.
For the briefest moment, everything was good again, as if nothing had ever gone wrong between them. “Do you want to come inside?” Ben asked.
Tim started to nod, his eyes smiling in acquiesce before something clicked. His face became somber, eyes distant. “Goodbye, Benjamin.”
As Ben watched him leave, he knew there was no longer any point in trying to stop him.
* * * * *
There remained one possibility, one iota of hope in the form of a key. The idea kept Ben awake at night, tormenting him with promises he knew were impossible, but still it whispered to him, urging him to try. Where words fail, only action can succeed.
One humid July night, Ben decided that he’d had enough. He had been staring at the red led light of the clock, unable to sleep. Tired of temptation, he threw off the sheets, grabbing the key after he had dressed. Once outside, he walked the familiar path he had followed so many nights before. He could have walked it with his eyes closed.
He tried to brush aside the fear welling up inside him as he used the key. Two months had passed. Would it still work? Was there an alarm system now? The small click only worsened his feelings of anxiety. It might have been better if the key hadn’t worked. Now there was so much more to face.
Moonlight poured through the window in Tim’s room, allowing him to see that little had changed. He ignored the shape in bed and walked instead to the window. Ben looked up at the moon and said a silent prayer to it that he might be strong enough, before staring down at the empty backyard where everything had fallen apart. Ben listened to the sound of Tim’s breathing until he could resist no longer and went to him, sitting on the corner of his bed.
He studied the curve of Tim’s shoulder, following the line down to a tan arm pressed tight against the white sheet. Ben’s heart ached. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch his skin, to slip underneath the sheets and wrap his arms around him. Together they would lay for all eternity, the world crumbling to dust around them, so that nothing could ever stand in their way again.
Ben stood and Tim stirred in his sleep, rolling over onto his back. His face was hidden in shadow, but Ben could see enough to make him want to weep. He was so handsome, so beautiful. Inside and out. Ben leaned forward, bringing his lips as close to Tim’s as possible without actually kissing him.
Then Ben pulled away. As he left he hung the key that Tim had given him on the doorknob. He glanced one final time at the bed as he closed the door, and saw light reflecting off Tim’s open eyes. Ben didn’t hesitate or stall. The moon had granted his request. He was strong as he shut the door and walked out into the dark, lonely night.
__________
Part Two:
Chicago, 1999
__________
Chapter 16
Snow. Freezing, eye-stinging, finger-numbing snow. Had he ever really wished for such weather in Texas? The bottom five inches of Ben’s jeans were soaking wet as he tromped through the damnable substance. TV had given him a false impression of snow. Sure, it was beautiful when it first started falling, the blanketed mounds inspiring warm Christmassy thoughts, but that was just the beginning. The honeymoon stage. It didn’t take long for Chicago’s infamous traffic to turn it all into ugly gray slush.
A warm glow from a coffee shop window beckoned, promising warmth and dryness. Ben had never developed a taste for coffee, but surely there would be something else in there he could drink. One of those weird Italian sodas where you could choose the flavor, or maybe a hot cocoa. He paused on the sidewalk a moment before forcing himself onward to his apartment. He had a date with Mason.
Of course it was Mason’s fault that he was running late. Last-minute Christmas shopping on a shoestring budget had taken most of the day. To even worry about being tardy was silly. Mason suffered from chronically late syndrome, always an hour late if not more. That was the inspiration for buying the pocket watch. This scheme had failed Ben’s mother three years ago, but he had found the idea charming. The watch was sterling silver, suited his own tastes, and hadn’t been engraved. Even with Christmas just around the corner, Ben knew there was a fair chance that he and Mason would no longer be an item.
In the twenty days they had been together, Mason had burned through three different jobs. When Ben had first met him, Mason had been the punky bartender at Mertyl’s, an out-of-the-way lesbian bar. Ben had instantly fallen for his bad boy appeal. The colored hair, piercings, and poorly realized tattoos were in complete contrast to the preppy pretty boys or delicate artistic types on campus. Most students had at least one of these rebellious elements, but there was something genuinely trashy about Mason.
The job at the bar ended abruptly among rumors of money missing from the register. Next there was the construction job at an outlet mall, something Mason’s ripcord muscles might be suited to, but this only lasted two days. Ben was never sure what had happened, although he suspected a marathon drug binge had gotten in the way. Mason was currently working retail at a music store. At least he had been a few days ago when Ben had seen him last.
With a prayer of gratitude to any god listening, Ben hurried into the minimal amount of warmth his apartment building afforded. Apartment was a laughable term, as the tiny living areas barely qualified as dorms and the slumlord owner knew it. Except for a few senior citizens and eccentrics, all ten stories of the building were inhabited by students who didn’t want to live on campus. The concept had sounded so grown up to Ben at the time, but the reality was far from glamorous.
Ben bit the tips of his gloved fingers and pulled his hand free. He struggled with numb digits to find the keys and unlock the door to his apartment. The smell of cigarette smoke greeted him as he entered. Mason was here. Ben called out, puzzling over the darkness of the apartment. Was Mason sleeping?