They trudge-trudge-trudged through the thundering calm. Funny the way things are like that, like you except things to be one way and they aren't. It's funny, funny, funny and quite sad.

Brian felt like he was melting. Felt as if he was falling down some dark squeezing tunnel to the center of his death. Brian doesn't like to fall. Doesn't like the feeling of groundlessness and. And. "Can we stop?" Brian was feeling dizzy. Dizzy in his blue jeans and white t-shirt. Dizzy in his long, short, undyed, 'dye it' hair.

"Sure." And they did. Stop. They stopped and the world stopped, colours blurring before his eyes. He reached his hand to Curt's face, stroking gently. Brian slipped his fingers into Curt's hair pulling them closer together so that they stood cheek to cheek.

Gently he whispered, "Come down with me." His whisper swept, sweeping like the blue of silence. His whisper swept and shuddered over Curt's ears. It was sweet and Curt nodded.

"Always."

They walked of to the side of the path into the slightly overgrown wood and sat down, their backs against twisted trees with thick, deep roots that drank. Brian reached out and twined his fingers with Curt's. And they lay down together like before. Like in the greying calm of lily storms. Love you. "Love you." He whispered. Love you lots.

"Love you too."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Truly?"

"Always."

"Good."

Curt smiled a silly little smile. A slight shift of his lips, so tiny you wouldn't even notice it. "Bri?"

"Mmm?"

"You're really dramatic." Brian punched him lightly.

"I know. I think... I think much too much. I think that I am simply going crazy."

"It's possible." He said it slowly and softly, the words lingered in the roots of the twisted trees being soaked up into the dirt. Brian sunk down slowly. Felt his legs evaporating into a mist of blue jean. Felt his shirt being stripped away and his bare skin, his bare back touching the cool earth. There were stories there. Stories in the earth and in his skin, in the blue jean mist that floated overhead.

"Coming?"

"I told you I would." Curt flowed, brown haired. Brian and Curt and Curt and Brian and blue. They flowed into the tree roots and got sucked, sucked, sucked up into Dream.

*

If you have heard music, you know that it seeps through the pores of the earth. That it vibrates in smooth waves. You know that it absorbs into your skin and strikes you at your soul. They were inspired. The earth was inspired in its own vibrating genius.

They came together in waves vibrated. Came together with the movement of music. The sucking of soft lips, mouths. Hands entwined. With flesh on flesh on flesh. With bodies vibrated and skin melding. Tangled hair and expanded lungs. They breathed through each other. With skin unscarred.

If you have seen light, you know that it shines from with in. From centers unknown. You know that there is no sun: all light is an illusion, all except your own. You know that the sky is cluttered in fragments of glass and mirror which reflect our light. Reflect our special ness as beauties in the sky. From sources unknown. And as they stared at the sky cluttered in glass, they lay in a bed of silken flowers.

From here radiates light, life.

And wondered did they, light and life, 'what dangers, what calm lies ahead?'

If you have breathed air, you know that the fog keeps you living. Know that in breathing the air, you are finding your way; crystalline blue leading you with sharpened glass shards tearing down your throat. That breathing helps you survive the cold. Breathing helps you fly. In breathing you are fighting life...

And death...

They spread their wings, preparing for flight. And grasped hands, they arose ascending into cluttered glass sky.

Do keep breathing

*

From corners of the sky, thin shards of glass fell. Fell in the guise of snowy showers twirling through their decent. Skin met the delicate details of tiny glass snow flakes and melted it to crystallized water, forever holding the memory of the fall. It was bizarre and completely awesome. The falling of snow. Sun and snow was completely awesome.

Curt woke slowly, his body shivering lightly from the snow. His eyes glazed, "Fuck." He smiled. "Fuck." Stood. "It's snowing." Walked to the center of the road, the path, the wood and looked up. Maybe it rained a little bit. Maybe rain touched his face through the snow and the glass and the sun. Maybe he was just a little crazy too.

He called for his lover, mesmerized at the sight of this breath leaving his mouth in swirling smoking puffs. "Brian," he said with a smirk "it's fucking snowing." Brian walked towards Curt, his brown hair dusted in intricate flakes. He seemed to glow like and ethereal demon. He seemed to arrive in a cloud of blue jean mist. Brian smiled lightly, gripped Curt's hand tightly, whispered "Bizarre."

Curt turned to face him. "What?"

"Bizarre. Being with you is... bizarre."

"That good?"

Brian turned to face him. Boar into Curt with intensity; serious. "Yes."

So they stood facing each other, dusted in a cloud of intense, serious, delicate snowing ice flakes and came together for a small kiss.

_________

"I feel like I'm making this up."

"What up?"

"This." He gestured. "This everything."

"It's unreal, Demon."

Brian smiled, blushed a little at the name. It was unreal. Life was unreal. That paths had led them there through winding trail of never-ending unreal ness and that was where the beauty lay. Ahead. Unreal.

Brian and Curt continued on the road they'd begun walking some time ago, trusting it to places unknown and possible imagine, definitely dreamt. To places dreamt.

_________

They came to the beach in a kind of loving silence. The kind that radiates from grey rooms: a smooth and silken silence. They stood at the edge of the white dusted beach, the glass crusted ocean tasting at their toes.

"I want to give you something."

"A kiss?" Smirked. Brian kissed Curt.

"No. This." And slipped from his pocket a gleaming emerald pin. "Belonged to Oscar Wilde and an alien." Sighed. "And now it belongs to you."

Curt took the tiny pin, twisted it, staring as it changed colours in the light. "I think," his voice rasped "I think you stole this from the sky."

Brian stroked it. "Maybe." His voice washed to sea. "Let me put it on you." Softly.

Curt brought his hands to Brian's neck, fingers threading through the longish tendrils that hung there. Roughly he whispered, "Gonna kiss you." And he did. Abrasively. Piercingly. It hurt Curt smashed his lips to Brian's and it was good and it comforted.

_________

Time had passed quickly and unnoticed as the two sat on the beach, hands entwined. The snow had earlier stopped, leaving the beach shimmering and crystallized, the boys with white dusted hair. They weren't cold, not in any way they could feel.

"The beach reminds me of her."

"And the snow?"

"Reminds you of Mandy." Turned. "And me of you." Far off look in his eyes, Curt slowly ran his fingers along the insides of arm, dancing and ghosting along his wrist. "You forget, Demon, that I've been there too."

Brian pulled his hand away and stood with bare feet --they'd earlier thrown their shoes aside-- and toes digging into the sand. Sighed. Stared into the sky. Curt stood to meet him. Stood nose to nose with him. Stared into his eyes.

Blue green gold brown. Red rimmed. Their hair blew together. Combined.

"My brother did some pretty fucked up things to me. My parents did some fucked things to me. I did some fuck up thing to me." He held up his arm, marked gently in angry scars.

Brian spoke in small volumes, "I cut myself." Curt nodded his forehead knocking Brian's. He rubbed their noses together. Let their lips touch.

"Where?"

Brian touched the insides of Curt' arm. "Here."

"You don't scar." Gently.

Laughed. "No. Ironic."

"Kinda. I love you still..."

"I know..."

_________

Everything seemed lighter and the sky seemed brighter and the ocean, where the snow had been was wet. They fucked on the beach. Twice.

"I am intrigued," he said in a horrid mock English accent, "by your hair." Held him from behind with arms wrapped around waists. His fingers crept up the front of the shirt. Brian's neck bent forward, hair falling into his eyes. Curt buried his nose and lips in his hair.

"And I, sir, am intrigued by yours." They both giggled. "Maybe-- maybe we should be heading back."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." And they did head back slowly, taking their time to kiss against fading memoirs of trees and glass.

Confessed their sins and scars to the sky cluttered glass, maybe they would be free.