Update: New Author's Note:
Wow. This story is, um, a slight but more controversial than I expected. Alright. Guys, it's just a story. It truly is. I did not do that much research on it, and I'm not saying it's necessarily true. If you get offended when a teenage girl writes a story about your Bible, then you...well, you just SHOULDN'T. If you do not like the idea of David and Jonathan, two characters from the Bible, in a romantic relationship with each other, than you might not want to read this. That said, if you DO read it, and choose to review, it'd be nice if you stopped beating each other up in your reviews. I'm open to criticism, but the reviewboad is for REVIEWING, not arguing. I'm fine with condescending, insulting comments about myself, but hey: remember it was your choice to read it. That said, if you are open to the idea of Bibleslash (squee! Isn't it lovely?), then here is the story.
Jonathan had hated David ever since he had first heard of him.
Or rather, he had hated the idea of him.
He had heard rumors in the court, and among the peasants, that David had been anointed by God to overthrow his father. He formed an idea in his mind of David—short and fat, certainly, with weak legs and arms. He pictured hair turned gray and eyes that flashed red. He imagined flabby, veiny arms and rotten teeth.
His father, Saul, of course, would hear none of it.
"I have met with him," he said firmly, "And I believe he will be a great aid to us."
The night before David was to arrive at court, he went to bed with a sick feeling in his stomach, and his dagger close at hand.
XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX
When Jonathan first saw David, he had no idea who he was looking at.
He turned to his servant, Samuel. "Who is the boy that sits beside my father?" he asked quietly, not for one instant moving his eyes from the unfamiliar youth.
Samuel's eyes widened in surprise. "Don't you know, sir? That is David, son of Jesse."
Jonathan frowned. "Certainly not," he said.
Samuel nodded. "I am sure of it."
Jonathan decided to accept the explanation for the moment, and allowed his eyes to wander back to the boy.
David was tall, though not abnormally so. His hair cascaded around his face and over his neck; tight, black ringlets. He had elegant features; a high forehead and thin eyebrows. His mouth was small and delicate; bright red. Every so often as he was eating, his tongue darted out to catch some scrap. His eyes were dark brown, almost black; but they were also bright and eager. They had a certain intelligence to them; and it was obvious that he heard and understood what was being said to him. His face, though obviously young, had the start of small lines around the eyes and mouth.
David happened to glance towards him, and Jonathan realized he was staring. He met David's gaze for a few seconds, before letting his eyes fall to his plate.
But he had no need to cover his ears, and he could hear David's voice quite clearly. He had heard the boy was a musician, and it seemed that perhaps the rumors were true. He had an enchanting, melodic voice; and it seemed to Jonathan that he was on the edge of song.
He chanced, after a few minutes, to look back up. David was sipping from a cup of wine. It stained his lips. Jonathan imagined tasting it, allowing the bitter liquid to coat his tongue and mouth. He imagined sharing it with David; quenching his thirst with David and needing nothing other than David.
A shudder went through him at the thought, and a not-unpleasant warmth began spreading through his stomach.
He drank deeply from his cup of wine before turning back to his food.
XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX
He did not see David the next day.
The day after that, however, he was rewarded ten-fold.
He was making his way to his father's chambers. But before he was halfway there, he heard something he had never heard before. He quickened his pace.
Standing outside his father's door, he heard the sounds of a lyre. He had never before been fond of music; it distracted him from his thoughts.
He knew that it must be David playing; he could not imagine another sounding like this. The music enveloped him, and he felt that he should sing; for he knew of no other way to express his joy. And yet at the same time it was not necessary to sing; he felt as if his spirit had left his body; he felt he was everywhere and no where at once. He was singing, every fiber of his body was carried along with David's voice, high and lyrical, though he made no noise.
When the song was finished, he could barely recall it. He could not have hummed the tune, nor sang the words. But he could almost grasp the feeling it had given him; the belief that he could do anything.
He fell back against the wall, tilting his face towards the ceiling, and closed his eyes. He allowed the memory of the music to carry him for a while.
When he opened his eyes, the world was silent, and David was standing before him; observing him calmly. His eyes drifted across Jonathan's body, from his head to his feet. Jonathan was suddenly conscious of the way the breeze from the window filtered through his robes and brushed along his skin. The hairs on his arms stood on end, and he trembled under David's gaze.
Then, almost before he had time to register what was happening, David was gone, retreating down the hall. He had not spoken a word.
XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX
Jonathan did not realize he had not eaten his meal until the plates were cleared and the servants looked at him oddly. Then he realized, to his surprised, that he was as hungry as he had been when the meal had begun.
He had spent the meal looking at David.
XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX
Jonathan's mornings began to fall into a routine of sorts.
After he woke, he would attend the morning meal as normal. If David was gone, he would eat a little; but mostly he stared at the empty seat and worried. And if David was there, he would not eat at all, but admire him as subtly as he could.
Then he would stay outside his father's chambers and listen to David play. He would leave before he was seen.
They had not yet spoken.
XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX
Today it was different.
Jonathan felt his senses were heightened; every touch and taste was sharp on his skin. His food was bitter on his tongue, and every voice that was not David's caused him to wince.
Today when he looked at David, he saw David looking back.
Their eyes met as David turned to speak to Jonathan's father, and, though he continued speaking, his eyes did not leave Jonathan's. Jonathan remembered for the first time in a long time that they said God saw through this boy; and wondered if it were true.
Jonathan would not have doubted it; at that moment he could not have taken his eyes from David's if he had wanted to.
But he didn't want to. David's eyes were wide and beautiful; framed by dark, heavy lashes. Jonathan thought that they should be preserved forever; and yet he almost wished that David would close them. He did not want anyone else to see them. He felt that they were his.
XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX
He was not at all surprised when he ran into David later that evening.
He had retreated to his gardens, and was calmly relaxing beneath a tree whose blossoms had just burst into full color the day before; its branches were heavy with bright red flowers and the air was filled with the scent of pollen and nectar.
He heard footsteps behind him, and turned to see who was approaching. It was David. His feet were bare and stained with dirt, and when he spoke his voice was much softer than Jonathan had imagined.
"You've been watching me," David said calmly; not to accuse, merely to state something that was true.
Jonathan tilted his head. "I have," he acknowledged.
"I know you are the king's son," David continued, "But I don't know anything else. What is your name?"
"Jonathan," he said; and his tongue felt too large and clumsy for his mouth. "And I know you are David."
David smiled. "Your father is a kind man," he said. "But I wish he had introduced me to you."
Jonathan felt his lips move into the shape of a smile. "Well, we are introduced now," he said, "So come and sit with me."
David seemed to have been waiting for the invitation. He hurried to join David, and their arms brushed as he seated himself beside him on the bench.
Jonathan inhaled deeply to steady himself, but instead found himself even dizzier. David smelled like the pollen that hung in the sky, only more so. He smelled like someone who has lived outside; like the ground after a rain; like bathing in the river and eating wild berries. He smelled like youth and beauty and he was everything Jonathan wanted.
Later, he would not remember much of what they conversed about. He only remembered that David was beside him, and that he had never been so much himself.
XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX
The friendship with David was something he easily accepted.
Much of his day continued the same. David's presence at meals continued to dictate what he ate or didn't eat. He continued to listen to David play; and he did not go out of his way to run into him.
But somewhere along the way it was agreed between them that they would meet, every night after dinner, in Jonathan's garden. Sometimes David would already be waiting for Jonathan when he arrived; sometimes Jonathan would have to wait. He found he didn't mind so much; for David always came.
One night they spoke of David's old home. It was something Jonathan had never really considered before; it was hard to remember that David had not always been there.
"Do you miss it much?" Jonathan asked.
David laughed, and Jonathan thought that there could not possibly be a better way to spend his time than making David laugh. "Of course I do," he said, "It's all I've ever known."
"What was it like?" Jonathan asked, watching David tilt his head back.
David closed his eyes. "I suppose you wouldn't think much of it…but I loved it. I spent the entire day with the sheep. I was alone, usually, because my father couldn't afford to hire another shepherd, and my older brothers were always so busy. But I liked it. I learned so much about the earth. And I always had my lyre and flute with me. I can play songs that mean the wind; or the first rain after a drought; or the stars after a hot, dry day. I would sleep outside a lot of the time. I didn't like it much at first, but after a while I realized how amazing it was. You can't ever really see the sky during the day."
"Didn't you ever get lonely?" Jonathan wondered.
David cracked his eyes open. "No," he says, "Not really. I missed my father sometimes, and my brothers. But I never really felt alone. And yet," he continued shyly, averting his eyes from Jonathan's. "I'm sure that if I were to go back to that life now, I would be quite lonely. It seems so selfish, doesn't it? But I would miss you too much."
Jonathan wondered if it was possible to be too happy. He grabbed David's hand and pressed it to his own. "I am glad to hear that," he said. "Because I don't think I could be without you, either."
David smiled, and tilted his head to rest on Jonathan's shoulder. "You are too kind," he murmured.
Jonathan wished he could sing like David could, or play an instrument. He could not think of a better way to be happy.
XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX
Jonathan continued to listen to David play everyday. But he grew jealous that his father could hear, too. He wanted to be the only one that David played for.
"David," he said one evening as they lingered alone in the garden. "I want you to play for me. Only me." He hesitated. "Will you?"
David was lying on his back in the dirt, his head at Jonathan's feet. "Of course," he said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. If he felt any surprise, he did not show it. "I would love to. Shall I come to your chambers tomorrow after dinner?"
Jonathan nodded. "I would like nothing better."
XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX
In preparation for David, Jonathan had servants clean his rooms. They were dusted several times, and the floor waxed. Everything was put in its place.
Since they had begun their meetings in the garden, Jonathan had tried to avoid looking at David at meals. He had felt sure that if he did, his feelings would be evident in his eyes, written for everyone to see. Tonight he felt David watching him. He glanced up once, and their eyes met. Jonathan's father noticed, and frowned.
Jonathan finished eating before David did, and hurried to his chambers. Everything was ready; he had brought anything David could possibly want. He had even prepared wine and bread in case he should grow hungry.
He paced restlessly across his chambers, waiting for David. He knew it had not been long, and yet he began to worry that David was not coming. He knew that David's music was something precious.
Perhaps he did not have the right to ask for it.
Perhaps David would not give it to him.
But he had worried in vain. David came, of course, as he always did. He held his lyre in one hand and his flute in the other. "Hello, Jonathan," he said softly. "Do you still want to hear me play?" He seemed almost shy, and it was catching.
"If you will play for me," Jonathan answered, and it was almost a question.
David nodded, and met Jonathan's gaze for the first time. His eyes were wide and his lashes dark around them.
"Would you like to sit on the couch?" Jonathan offered, gesturing with his hand.
David nodded, and was seated. Jonathan began to feel self-conscious standing, and seated himself on his bed, swinging his feet back and forth.
When David began to play, he forgot that he even had a self at all.
David played his lyre, and he sang as he played. He sang of light and wind and rain and love, but the words were not important. What was important was David's voice, and the way it could mean those things without saying anything. David could have sung about what he had eaten for dinner; and it still would have meant beauty and love and everything Jonathan did not have words for.
The angels in heaven could not have sung more beautifully.
Jonathan did not realize that David had stopped until he felt a hand on his face. "You are crying," David said softly, and his breath was warm and sweet.
"I want to," Jonathan said; and David went on playing.
XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX
When David left that night, Jonathan was utterly drained. He had played for hours, and then stayed for another hour, talking with Jonathan.
Jonathan fell to sleep that night without reading, which was something he had never done before. That night he dreamed of David.
XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX
The next morning at breakfast, Jonathan could not think. He heard only a dull sort of buzzing in his ears, and he could see nothing before his eyes but David.
He did hear one thing, though.
"I was looking for you last night, David," his father said. "I wanted to hear you play."
David averted his eyes. "I apologize, sir," he said stiffly. "I will be happy to play for you today. Whenever you want." And his voice was so terribly different from what Jonathan now knew it could be that he could hardly bear to listen to it.
Jonathan did, however, listen to David's usual morning performance for his father. And this time he was able to note the contrast between the way David played for his father and the way he played for him. For Saul, David played with his heart. For Jonathan, he played with his soul.
He felt no more need for jealously.
XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX
David sought Jonathan out after his performance for the king.
"He wants me to play for him tonight after dinner," David said anxiously. "I think he must know that I performed for you last night. I think I must play for him."
Jonathan shrugged. It was of little difference to him. No matter how much David played for Saul, he would not play as he played for Jonathan.
"I can come to you afterwards, if you wish," David said, searching Jonathan's face for any hints of anger.
Jonathan laughed. "I am not as cruel as that, my friend," he said. "You must sleep sometime."
David smiled and pressed his hand to Jonathan's. "Tomorrow, then," he said firmly.
XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX
Jonathan had little opportunity to see David that day, or the next. In fact, he spoke to him only once more before his performance that evening.
Jonathan once again finished eating before David did, and hurried to his chambers to wait. He lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling, wondering if David would be able to keep his promise, or if he would again be detained by Saul.
David, in fact, arrived only a few minutes after Jonathan did. This time he carried only his lyre.
"I have written a song for you," David said shyly. "Would you like me to play it?"
"Of course," Jonathan said simply, and closed his eyes.
When David played, Jonathan felt as if he were floating. He had no substance, no body. He had only David and his music.
He heard words pledging ever-lasting friendship, words promising love and happiness. He heard descriptions of beauty and pure joy. He heard David, and felt it.
"Do you like it?" David asked when he stopped.
"Did you know you are beautiful?" Jonathan asked in reply.
David bowed his head, and tried to hide the red creeping across his face.
Jonathan stood and walked to his friend. "Look at me, David," he commanded, and David raised his eyes from the ground.
Jonathan pulled his sword from his belt. "This is yours," he said, placing it at David's feet. He then took his bow from his shoulder. "And this also." He continued silently, stripping himself of his robes and his other garments and placing them at David's feet. "Everything I have belongs to you; I love you as though you were my own soul."
David met his eyes calmly. Then, slowly, his eyes began to travel down the length of Jonathan's body. Jonathan did not shudder under his gaze, but kept his face fixed with David's.
"You should eat more," David said softly. And without speaking again, he removed his own sword and bow, and placed them at Jonathan's feet. Then, his every movement quite deliberate, he removed his own robes and garments. "And as long as I live," he said. "Everything I own is yours, also, for I shall never love another as I love you."
Jonathan allowed his eyes to travel the length of David's body. He was strong, and his skin had the darkness of one that had spent too much time outside. A thin layering of black hair trailed down his chest. Jonathan thought he looked exquisite.
Jonathan took a step forward and took David's hands in his. They were warm and dry, and their fingers locked together like puzzle pieces. Jonathan met David's eyes with his own and then pressed David's palm to his lips. David closed his eyes and moved even closer.
When Jonathan raised his head, it was to find David's lips, ready to meet his.
David kissed the way he sang; it was slow and soft, and it made Jonathan feel as if he could do anything. But for now, he was content to relax against David, and allow David to press him back, back, back; until he was pressed between the wall and David's body.
Every inch of him was touching every inch of David. He thought that he should be cold, but David seemed to know how to keep him warm, and no inch of him was touching the air for very long.
Jonathan thought that even God himself could not create a more perfect paradise than this.
XXXxxxXXXxxxXXX
Read and review, tell me what you think. It'd be awesome if you could stick to what you thought about the actual writing, rather than how much the idea of Bibleslash disgusts you. Just a hint. But if you feel the need to do that, by all means go ahead.