Authors Note: Ok, so... I decided to up the rating on this Piece O' Crap. I think it is to the better, seeing as how 99 of my dialogue is some variation of the wonderful , useful word 'fuck'. Sorry to those of you readers that don't care for swearing. HAHAHA. It's funny because no onereads this... I cry...
Disclaimer: S'not mine, none of it.
Chapter 2
Julian's long lashes fluttered on his ivory cheeks. With his eyes closed, with that sullen, sultry glare hidden away, he looked like an angel—a troubled angel. The satin skin that covered his fine features was now creased with anxiety. It was only when those startlingly blue eyes finally opened, and he took in his surroundings that the creases smoothed. He sighed with relief. He had arrived once again. The Tower. It never failed. Night after night, it was always the Tower. All the same… All the same he was never quite at ease until he saw it before him—until he opened his eyes and beheld it for himself.
Julian was not sure why he should appear in this place night after night, nor did he particularly care to know the reason. After swirling around in a cold void of hatred and evil for two years, it was enough to just be somewhere with solid walls he was ready for a change, whatever it might signify. And there were worse places he could be. Much worse. In truth, he rather liked the tower, with its walls and ceiling of what looked like ice, but he supposed was frosted glass of some sort, and smooth obsidian floor. Black and white. Cold colors. Hard colors. His colors.
Always before he had been alone when he would awake in the tower. Each night he would make his solitary way through the shimmering hallways of the dream, exploring the tangled maze of corridors and rooms. Tonight though, tonight there was something different, something hovering just on the periphery of his sight. There was a presence somewhere close by, but his eyes insisted on that there was nobody there.
Taking a step forward, Julian reached out a hand as if to grasp the unseen presence. He had barely begun the motion when he was frozen by a dreadful sense of familiarity. An icy blast of fear and longing, neither feeling his own, washed over him paralyzing his mind and body, and was gone. Gone. It was as if it had never been there at all. Which, of course, he was quick to remind himself, it hadn't. The sudden stillness of the air was enough to assure him of that. Its all part of the dream…It has to be the dream… The half of his brain that clung to structure and reason wanted desperately to believe it, but there was that voice deep in the back of his ancient mind that was laughing at him even as he thought it.
He shook himself and turned around. What he saw when he did made his jaw drop. There was somebody there. Really there! A crumpled shape lay sprawled on the gleaming floor. The shape was wearing a faded gray T-shirt and torn blue-jeansand, yes, the shape was moving.
"What?" He crept with cat-like grace to where they body lay prone. From his new vantage point he could see what had not been apparent to him before.
The body was definitely a human specimen, a boy in point of fact, and, Julian was surprised to note, it was a boy he knew. The eyes were closed, masking those hypnotic gray irises. But he knew him none-the-less. It was Zach, the slender, angsty antithesis of Julian's former obsession. Looking at the sleeping figure, the pink lips pursed in a light frown, Julian felt something in his stomach flutter. There was something about that face. Something that called to him…
"Well, of course there is, stupid," Julian chastised himself vehemently, "He's Jenny's cousin. That's all…" But that wasn't all. Not by a long shot.
Julian dropped to his knees and peered down into Zach's restlessly sleeping face. A lock of light brown hair fell over one spasmodically twitching eyelid, and Julian, unaware of his own actions, reached down and brushed it aside. He felt a jolt, as if he had been electrocuted when his fingertips brushed the sleeping boy's face. Such a physical reaction was most definitely not what he was expecting. He looked down at the prone form in front of him, not really surprised at what he saw there.
Zach's eyes had sprung open at his touch, and now he was staring wildly up at Julian, a look of intense shock on his face. It was more than shock, though. Unwillingly Julian acknowledged that other look for what it was. Hunger. For how many years had he felt that same relentless gnawing at his own soul?
But before Julian had time to ponder the point further a pale, long-fingered hand shot up and locked around his wrist. Julian looked at the hand for a moment, and then down at its owner. Zach was staring at him intently. Julian saw Zach's lips move, heard some incoherent mumbling, and, before he had even a moment to react, he found himself pulled down to Zach's face. Nothing in life (or in Julian's unusual case, unlife) could have prepared him for what was to come. Their lips connected.
Distantly, Julian heard a soft squeak of surprise. Never would he have imagined such a noise coming from his own throat. He was momentarily disgusted with himself, but, as Zach's prying tongue sought brushed against his bottom lip, he found that he really did not care all that much.