Chapter 2
Yay!! People reviewed!! Thank you so much!!
El bastardo – yeah, I've read a couple of books about pyschology, one of them gave me the idea for this!
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Ralph swung his bag down off his shoulder and walked into the main room of his house.
"Jack?" he called, waiting for an answer. He didn't have to wait long. A tall, lanky red headed man jumped out from around the corner. He had outgrown his ugliness and was now quite good looking, Ralph thought. Ralph himself had just improved on his younger looks. He wore his sandy blond hair just below the ears, and he was muscular, taller even than Jack and usually tanned. Ralph ruffled Jack's hair.
"Hallo," he remarked, ignoring Jack's growl and heading towards the kitchen. "Had a good day?" he called back over his shoulder. He heard footsteps padding behind him, and turned around just in time to be grabbed around the waist by Jack.
"Yeah, ok," he replied with a grin. "You?"
"Yeah, it was fine," Ralph replied carefully. For some reason, he didn't know why, he hadn't told Jack about his therapy. Today had been his third session, and, although he tried hard, Ralph still couldn't remember a thing about what had happened during that missing section of his life. Jack flicked him on the nose to indicate he didn't feel like being serious, and, clutching a couple of beers, the two men made their way through to the main room to discuss Jack's latest bizarre interpretation of the meaning of life.
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Ralph awoke with a start. Why he had woken, he couldn't say. Rolling over, he saw the moonlight streaming through the crack in the curtains where they didn't join properly. Slipping out of bed, he padded over to the window, drew back the curtains and looked out. Roofs stretched as far as the eye could see, showing Ralph what the birds saw when they flew over London at night. It could be considered beautiful, he thought, with the moonlight reflecting off the slate and bouncing off windows. Here and there, a light shone through a window as if to prove that the city was alive.
Pulling the curtains as far across as he could to darken the room a bit more, Ralph turned back to the room. There was a bit of moonlight reflecting off Jack, giving him an oddly surreal look. Ralph gazed across fondly at him. He had known Jack for a long time. He couldn't quite remember where and when he had met him, he had just been there. They had gone to high school together, and then to college. After college, Ralph had finally got up the courage to tell Jack how he felt about him and had been delighted to find that Jack had the same feelings. They had been together ever since, moving into this house after college.
Ralph tried to remember what had woken him. He had been dreaming, he knew. It had been a strange dream. He had been standing on his head in the middle of an island, when a fat boy had come up to him and pushed him off a cliff. At the bottom he had met Jack, as a young boy, along with lots of other boys with painted faces, who had shouted something at him. Ralph tried to remember what they had shouted, but it hurt his head. He dismissed it as influenced by the beer and crawled back into bed, curling around Jack, to await the morning.
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Sorry for the short chapters, I really am! My muse only works part time…
Yay!! People reviewed!! Thank you so much!!
El bastardo – yeah, I've read a couple of books about pyschology, one of them gave me the idea for this!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ralph swung his bag down off his shoulder and walked into the main room of his house.
"Jack?" he called, waiting for an answer. He didn't have to wait long. A tall, lanky red headed man jumped out from around the corner. He had outgrown his ugliness and was now quite good looking, Ralph thought. Ralph himself had just improved on his younger looks. He wore his sandy blond hair just below the ears, and he was muscular, taller even than Jack and usually tanned. Ralph ruffled Jack's hair.
"Hallo," he remarked, ignoring Jack's growl and heading towards the kitchen. "Had a good day?" he called back over his shoulder. He heard footsteps padding behind him, and turned around just in time to be grabbed around the waist by Jack.
"Yeah, ok," he replied with a grin. "You?"
"Yeah, it was fine," Ralph replied carefully. For some reason, he didn't know why, he hadn't told Jack about his therapy. Today had been his third session, and, although he tried hard, Ralph still couldn't remember a thing about what had happened during that missing section of his life. Jack flicked him on the nose to indicate he didn't feel like being serious, and, clutching a couple of beers, the two men made their way through to the main room to discuss Jack's latest bizarre interpretation of the meaning of life.
~~~~~~
Ralph awoke with a start. Why he had woken, he couldn't say. Rolling over, he saw the moonlight streaming through the crack in the curtains where they didn't join properly. Slipping out of bed, he padded over to the window, drew back the curtains and looked out. Roofs stretched as far as the eye could see, showing Ralph what the birds saw when they flew over London at night. It could be considered beautiful, he thought, with the moonlight reflecting off the slate and bouncing off windows. Here and there, a light shone through a window as if to prove that the city was alive.
Pulling the curtains as far across as he could to darken the room a bit more, Ralph turned back to the room. There was a bit of moonlight reflecting off Jack, giving him an oddly surreal look. Ralph gazed across fondly at him. He had known Jack for a long time. He couldn't quite remember where and when he had met him, he had just been there. They had gone to high school together, and then to college. After college, Ralph had finally got up the courage to tell Jack how he felt about him and had been delighted to find that Jack had the same feelings. They had been together ever since, moving into this house after college.
Ralph tried to remember what had woken him. He had been dreaming, he knew. It had been a strange dream. He had been standing on his head in the middle of an island, when a fat boy had come up to him and pushed him off a cliff. At the bottom he had met Jack, as a young boy, along with lots of other boys with painted faces, who had shouted something at him. Ralph tried to remember what they had shouted, but it hurt his head. He dismissed it as influenced by the beer and crawled back into bed, curling around Jack, to await the morning.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sorry for the short chapters, I really am! My muse only works part time…
