21 - Sunset

Ted:

I shouldn't be here. I know I should be, according to my boss and my job, my morals and logic. But I just shouldn't be.

But here I am, at the damn airport, ignoring the freshly landed plane outside and all the waiting, expectant people around me chattering excitedly as they watch for their intended guests, family, friends – whoever – to emerge from the terminal.

I, on the other hand, am fully absorbed by my cell phone. I check and recheck my messages, dialing Ricky's useless number repeatedly for no real reason other than out of habit, and try desperately to find possibly lost or missed calls (even though I've had the thing on and in my hand or pocket for the last week).

I feel the urge to call Brian and curse him out a few times, but I resist: who knows if someone might try to reach me as I barrel on angrily to an uncaring prick in the middle of a crowded room?

All the while, the only clear images in my mind are of Matty: smiling shyly at me when he would wake in the morning, pleasantly startled to find himself still there in my arms; wide, bright blue eyes pinning me to my seat as he confessed to me his honesty each time he'd said those disturbing words and meant them literally, being "tied up" at home; the focused look of deep concentration as he unleashed a flood of emotions into the unassuming upright piano onstage at the jazz club; the sweetly blissful expression on his pale face while he slept soundly against my chest, as if finding true safety for the first time in his life had finally allowed the creases in his forehead to vanish; the half-lidded, erotic gaze from his smoldering eyes as I opened him up (pardon the pun) to a whole new world of intimacy and love...; and, especially agonizing, the hopeless look of unrestrained pain as he watched me walk away from him to board a plane that would separate us for an unknown amount of time – which he had consciously, firmly insisted upon, but in that moment, seemed like he wanted to take back.

Every look, every grin, every expression – whether charming, intent, curious, mischievous, hurt, devastating, or just downright sexy – seers through my mind as the glow of my cell further ignites my helpless anxiety when I feel the panic rising in my gut. It's been too long, too goddamn long, for something not to have happened. He couldn't have just disappeared... could he? The only way that could happen is if...

No... No, I can't think about that. I can't let myself even suggest the possibility that he's been found and taken back to that hell, helpless himself from being too weak to get away... or... or given up and gone back willingly...

No – I can't let myself believe it.

So I say – even as the lump in my throat dissolves and I'm near to breaking down from worry, right here and now, in the middle of the airport, in the middle of this uncomfortable group of strangers...

Breathless, I feel myself grow dizzy, my legs weakening beneath me, and I have to stumble through the crowd to find a cheap plastic seat to hold onto. The phone clutched in my hand fiercely, I punch in Brian's number, then let my thumb hover over the "call" button. If anyone should have to be subjected to my supposedly annoying bouts of panic, he should be my prime target. He's the pain in the ass who jammed me into this pathetic situation anyway; why shouldn't he have to deal with the mess I've become after putting me through this kind of hell?

So I'm this distracted, wrapped up in my own mini-heart-attack, that I hardly even notice when another presence has purposefully supplanted itself beside me. I just faintly notice a flash of red in my peripheral vision, and this only serves to speed up the mental slideshow of Matty's most memorable moments as I have a fleeting thought of that fucking shirt with him in it, and I feel a sweat break out on my forehead.

"Oi," says a gruff male voice next to me in a snappy, growling, demanding tone. "Go get me bags already, bellboy, I ain't got all day."

Gasping for air, I numbly register that whoever is speaking is doing so to me – and my confusion over not being able to match this sinister snarl to my expectation of finding Ricky traipsing stupidly out of the terminal makes me cringe... I can't take much more of this shit, I really can't, I think to myself. Nothing is all right, nothing is okay – everything is just going to shit – my own inner voice even breaks tearfully over the words as I realize how true it is: I honestly can't... don't want to... be without him...

"H-Hang on a second," I beg, my voice coming out shaky and pitiful. "I just... I just need..."

And then the voice speaks again – much softer now, gentler... and...

"Blimey... Can't leave y'alone for a second, can I, Teddy?"

...heart-breakingly familiar.

My breath chokes off, and very slowly, I lift my head – in the next instant, snapping it sideways in a sharp gesture of shock.

The hair is shorter, a bit neater, but just as gorgeously coal-black as before – if anything, it just accentuates his cutely grinning face and that long, elegant neck. Similarly, that very same sneaky little smile is as goofy yet adorable as my own mind's vivid memory of it. And that shirt... that damned shirt that clings so adoringly to him, making me wish I could die and come back as cotton to be made into another cherished fashion concoction he enjoys wearing...

I'm speechless as I gape at the totally unexpected – but completely welcome and invited – beaming face in front of me. I can't even form a word when the delicious little giggle my ears love hearing escapes his small red lips.

"Oi," he finally interrupts my silent ogling of him. "You my chauffeur?"

I gulp, and after comes a noisy gasp. "You..."

He shrugs helplessly, raising his eyebrows. "Is it that much of a shock? I thought Mister Kinney told you..."

Brian... you... fucking... bastard... I love you...

Before I know what's happening, I let out a stifled sob and throw my arms around the smaller form, burying my face in his neck as he giggles again and returns the hug – though perhaps not as fiercely, but then, I am a bit stronger, so he's probably holding on as tightly as he can (like me), but mine is simply more powerful.

"I was... so scared," I whisper hoarsely, hands gripping his back and holding on with such need, as if I'm afraid he'll vanish if I let go.

He laughs outright, but he isn't doing it to be cruel – I can tell because it seems to just bubble out of him, like he can't suppress it... like he's too giddy to contain himself. Just like I'm too relieved to hold back the tears in my eyes... or even to care how Brian most likely pulled this prank on me out of spite for scaring him shitless when I threatened to quit.

Damn, I must really be good if Brian panicked over losing me.

But Matty was right – I would've had to have been in dire straits to leave my job. I would have quit, to be honest, if Matty hadn't stepped in and been so understanding and encouraging as to assure me it was all right to come back first – but he isn't like that. Which is only one small element to why I'm currently smothering him in my embrace right now, not giving a damn what people must think as I press myself against him even in this crowd of strangers and try to eat him whole, starting with his delectable neck.

A hand slides up his back to a thin shoulder, fingers skating firmly over warm skin at the base of his throat, as I finally pull back – though not far – and lift my face to his, eyes not daring to close as I kiss him openly, because I don't want to stop looking at him, seeing him right here with me. I feel his long lashes grazing my cheek faintly and break away, catching my breath as he smiles shyly up at me. Beautiful ocean-blue irises sparkling even more vivaciously than I can recall.

And all he says, in that high yet husky voice I love so much, is, "Hi there. Been a while, eh?"

I groan dumbly at how easily he can get under my skin, but relish the feeling all the same as I kiss him again, less frenzied and relieved than the first, but with a clear passion that can't be misinterpreted – and I don't even notice the disdainful glances, startled gapes, or happily sympathetic and understanding smiles we receive for this unchecked public display of affection.

When I pull back again, he's the one catching his breath this time, and I stammer out in a rush, "How the hell did you – wait, Brian was behind it, so he must've – I was waiting for Ricky, though, so is he – no, wait, he's not here, is he? Well, how would you know? You never met him – but I don't get how – I'm supposed to be picking up – unless that was just a way to get me here--"

He silences me with a finger against my lips, and that reassuring grin.

"Don't worry, I'll explain it all, then – since it seems Mister Kinney didn't enlighten you as I thought. But in answer to one of your queries – no, it wasn't a lie or a cover. There was no ploy of making up anything to get you here. He must have just kept from telling you who exactly you were waiting for."

I shake my head. "He just said it was a new employee--"

Matty startles me by nodding firmly. "Exactly. But he failed to mention it's me, right?"

I blink at him, finally understanding – and my eyes shift to saucers. "You... You're the new--"

"Yup," he grins proudly. "It was on a whim and I didn't really expect it to happen, but according to Ricky – who I have met, by the way – Mister Kinney was considering my application quite seriously when he saw my work. The only thing against me, he said, was that I was an import, y'know. So he was gonna go with someone else, save on expenses or whatever. But he asked Ricky why you were being so cranky, and Ricky told him about me. I guess Bri—er, I mean, Mister Kinney remembered the name from my application – so he had another reason to bring me over. Legally and all."

"Legally and – so... you're..."

He suddenly drops his arms from my waist, stepping back from me and holding out a hand. "The newest member of Mister Kinney's art department," he announces in a faux professional tone as he shakes my hand – in that light, flowing way of his that threw me so sharply the first time I touched him. "Lovely to meet you, I hope to have a successful and productive working relationship with you and everyone in your agency, sir."

He drops the professional act and leans in with that conniving smile. "By the way, I've been known to sleep my way to the top."

I let out a breathless chuckle, feeling as if a whirlwind has just entered – or, more accurately, re-entered – my life. And I'm all the better for it. "Well, Jesus, I hope you aren't looking to get any higher than screwing the accountant!"

He lifts his eyebrows in interest. "Hm. I hear that's where all the money's at..."

I groan at the pathetic joke – while he laughs boisterously and obnoxiously, poking me in the ribs. Then he grows serious again and informs me somberly, "Oh, but... there is one slight problem, however."

I meet his gaze confidently, ready to take on whatever new obstacle is in our way this time. "And that is?"

"You see, Mister Kinney was so busy with getting me my visitor's pass, as it'll take a bit longer to get my Visa and such, but he wanted me here as soon as possible – that, well, he had me put on a plane before he was able to secure me a place to stay."

I smirk, my eyes rolling heavenward in a mockery of exasperation.

"He said that you've been such a whiny pratt lately that he'll saddle you with this burden. Is that going to be a problem?"

I sigh heavily, shaking my head. "What an uncaring, thoughtless dick. But don't you worry about a thing, dear. I'll get you sorted."

"I'm sure you will," he mumbles lowly, then clears his throat and says audibly, "So you have someplace in mind where I can stay, then?"

I sling an arm over his shoulder and leisurely start to lead him away from the waiting area. "Oh... I think I can work something out..."

"Well, that's a relief."

I still feel a bit shaky, not only over the previous panic but now over the shock as well – but I manage to feel grounded enough to turn slightly to him, pecking him on the cheek. His return grin is so enticing that I can't help but feel that familiar heat in my abdomen, and I rumble into his ear, "I'm supposed to show you a good time, too. According to Mister Kinney."

"Oh? What'd you have in mind?"

"Hmm... First, I think I'll help you get your bags. Then, I'll have to get you back to the condo and get you settled in. Next, I think I'll get you some takeout, and then, maybe get you out of those clothes – you must want to get a shower – and then maybe after some site-seeing and such, I'll get you--"

"Ted, if you don't say you'll get me in bed next, you'll be needing to get yourself a bloody doctor."

I consider his threat thoroughly before answering, "Whatever my honorable guest requires..."

Three days later, I assure him that the next weekend we'll "get" around to actually leaving the bed to go see those "sites."

He only replies, "Maybe."

Matty:

Ever since I was a child, I despised the fact that every story I read, every movie I saw, every imaginary set-up – they all had happy endings. Later, when I was able to experience more "adult" entertainment, I found there to be much more varied ways to close a show. Some of the best ones I've known over the years either had very sad endings, or a twisted, unexpected, mixed bag of conclusions. Never a clear cut-and-dry, "and they rode off into the sunset and lived happily ever after" finale.

To this day, I still am glad that Renton took the money and ran, despite leaving behind his friends; it just wouldn't have been right for Edward to have real hands and a lovely (shoplifting) wife, otherwise he would never have remained unique and mystical (and kids would never get out of school for snowstorms); Raskolnikov had to suffer as a prisoner and be reminded of the goodness in others despite his own loathsome cynicism for humans in general, otherwise he may vainly have believed himself to be one of the fittest and smartest – he's forced to accept his humility and recognise the strength in what he defensively thought was Sonia's weakness; and Jubal may have felt like he lost a son, but Michael and his followers truly believed that he was now a part of all of them – it's what he wanted, what they all wanted... even if Jubal was unable to fully grok despite all his other open views and easy acceptance of how people live their own lives.

But once in a while, I understand why happy endings can be necessarily and clearly stated. It's the hope in rebuilding a new, better world that makes the survival of Rei-L, Vincent and Pino more of an uplifting choice – not a corny "they can't die because they're my favorites," but a spirit-soaring "they survived, and they will succeed this time, even if the last attempt was a failure."

Even with potentially cheesy love stories: though it may be more clever to show how Fergis takes the blame for Dil and goes to prison, proving his love even more devoutly than, say, running away together and becoming man and sort-of "wife," I was always glad for the fact that such an (equivalent) ending came true for Jen and Kyra (even defying death itself... damn puppets...).

The bottom line is, sometimes, though it's more dramatic and perhaps more realistic to throw in twists and turns, it can also be equally enjoyable and satisfying to be assured of a character's positive future with hints of a "happily ever after." As hokey as it can be, sometimes it's nice to imagine that people who deserve more or better finally are given their due.

This is exactly what I think every morning when I wake in bed next to or resting on the man I love. The man who saved me. The man who inspired me and gave me hope. The man who, beyond his own doubts and fears, his own judgment and barriers, decided to give in to his feelings instead of his logic – which, in turn, reminded me of who I am. More than this, he gave me a chance to find out what I can become – by loving me through everything with an unwavering devotion, and willingly risking his own pride to show me how much he cared.

He may not have ridden in on a horse to whisk me away from danger – but he gave me a reason to find the strength to do what I thought I never could, walking away on my own two feet instead of waiting for someone else to change my life. He may not have led me by the hand step by step – but he trusted me and held onto his faith in me until I found a way to succeed. He may not have healed my wounds, erased the fears, or magically alleviated the nightmares, trauma, and endless self-doubt.

But he let me lean on him when I was weak, he held me when I woke screaming, he stood beside me in confronting those demons, and told me of the beauty he saw when all I could see was ugly apathy. His "little" graces, his urges and assurances (rather than his overpowering sweeping away of anything daunting), pulled me through, and those small miracles grew into a larger-than-life superhero who loves me unconditionally – as I continue becoming that much better a person myself. I guess you could say he helped me find my happy ending.

And as soon as I retune the bloody heap of a second-hand piano we've saved up for together, we'll live happily ever after... making sandwiches out of all the cheese, and loving every bit of it the whole time.

Da End 'N Aw

What happened to...? - Ricky was moving house back in England cuz he got pwomoted to Ted's former position when he left, therefore he got a pay raise. John woke up on the roof of the hotel and went back down to the suite, trashed the place cuz he was pissed, and ended up getting arrested for it. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! WHAT A DOPE!!!! just so's ya knows...