Forever
"To regret one's own experiences is to arrest one's own development. To deny one's own experiences is to put a lie into the lips of one's life. It is no less than a denial of the soul."
- Oscar Wilde, "De Profundis"
"Forever he said. What is forever? I remember asking him that a long time ago. He never told me, only smiled that beautiful smile of his and stared at the sun-bathed beach. Those days had gone by to fast, leaving only memories stored in their wake." He sighed softly, yellow eyes being covered by pale olive lids. "He told me so many things, taught me the meaning of what life is. Cruelty, love, despair. I learned them all through him. That wonderful, horrible, evil little man." He chuckled softly and clenched the red plaid comforter around him; it's where he felt safest, where the past was hidden in him.
He smiled faintly, white fangs just barely glistening in the fading light of the fire. His breathing slowed down, body utterly relaxed in that old chair. He was home. Home where the memories ended and life began and in the moments of peace, where he heard the gentle whisper of his fade away into darkness. Yes, this was his place; this is where he belonged, where he'd never leave.
"You told me to wait. Wait till the end of time itself, wait till you got back, wait for eternity. I am waiting all of eternity for you, my eternity. I wish I could have proved I loved you, but did that mean I had to walk on water? Sometimes things aren't that simple, are they?"
The fire's warm glow bathed the room in delicate light. All was deadly silent, lost to the nights' slumber, a true meaning to peace on earth. Sloping brick ceiling seemed to disappear to reveal the sky lingering high above. The walls convert to sand, crumble like dust with the lightest of breezes, the wooden floor given away to soil. As though the building in its whole masked itself in a cloak of time long since past, he could see the stars, constellation upon another, through closed eyes. The warmth of the entire planet seemingly looking down upon him, protecting him from harm, it wasn't enough. Not enough to replace the tender embrace he lost, not enough, not at all.
"Father . . .What would I have to do? Into your hands I commended myself, into your hands surrendered my soul, my heart, my love to you. I lived in your house, lived by your law. Every morning for five years, I did nothing but pray. . .Pray to you to keep him here. You didn't. You did nothing. How can I believe in you when you let angels die?" A single white feather fell into his face, soft down, it came from him.
Smile widening slightly, a short sigh before a feather clad hand picked it up, twiddling it between thumb and forefinger. Feathers on his arm, few and far in between, did not lack of the same dull claret color that the fallen one had. Amusing it was to him. Tilting his head back against the soft cushion of the chair, he sent the single feather adrift in the house.
"I'm feeling so faithless. Lost under this all, this mess of me." He shook his head slowly, smiling still all the while. "I'm becoming less then what I am. Everything I believed is falling, falling right in front of me. Every second I waste is more than I can bare, deliver me, Father. Are you even listening to me?"
Sound. The rain came, petering down, giving the loam living water to breathe, a soothing melody, sifting through tree branches, pinging on the mailbox, washing down from the roof onto a wooden porch. If you listened closely enough, you could almost hear the ocean roar far in the distance. His ears pricked up at the sound, ever present smile widening more and more.
"Do you hear that D? It's raining. You use to love the rain so much." He chuckled quietly to himself. "I remember seeing you just standing in the rain, getting soaked to the bone, looking so peaceful, like the water was washing your sins away. . .I'd give anything to see you like that again. Just once more, I'll never ask for anything else if I could get that.
Inside the fire cracked, tiny embers floating up from the source like little fireflies away from a gathering. Outside, rain assaulted the ground, the house, lone in the country held fast against nature for a hundred years and more. The country land maintained its glory through the passing of each dawn, unflawed, untouched by civilization, nothing but nature in its purest form.
He looked through the stained glass window, a multitude of colors dimly shone through, rain streaking the surface of the glass. "It's wonderful, is it not?" He stops, waiting for an answer that would not come.
Hesitantly, he sheds his cover, standing up. Evident now, head to toe. Feathers covered his body; mostly fluffy red down nowadays, always was not the case. Fitting to his plumage, a small set of wings followed behind him. In no shape or form were they for anything more than décor. Yet under this all, though barely evident, laid skin the color of olive, remnants of a heritage long since lost. Scuffing to the sliding glass door, he peers out, nose and palms pressed against the glass
"You wouldn't want me to be like this, would you? Missing you every waking moment, mourning you? No. . .You'd hate me for that." He winces involuntarily at his statement. "I can't help it. I miss you so much; you just left without saying goodbye. How am I not supposed to miss you?"
Thunder rumbled in the distance, a soothing growl to him. The sky, now painted with deep ocher, maroon, splashed with magnificent yellows and pinks – a masterpiece among itself. His eyes closed yet again. The colors themselves reminded him of his love, the way they blended together so perfectly, so completely.
"I wish you could see this. I know you hate the way I go on about nature, but it's different this time. Don't say something's not beautiful unless it has a five star hotel and world-class Hooters girls. You're wrong. . .How did I ever fall for you? We're so different, so much the same. Well, opposites attract, I guess."
Pushing the door aside, he stepped outside. Water stained the wood a darker shade of brown, still dry patches remained if you looked hard enough. He stood, arms hugging themselves for warmth, wings splayed to their fullest. The boards on which he stood creaked as he shifted his weight, stepping forth to peek beyond the extended porch. A magnolia tree hindered his view, branches gracing the old shingles of the roof. He looked forward to it blooming again; he loved the color of the blossom, loved seeing them flutter to the ground before they fell. He always lamented the coming of fall, winter even more so, the time of their arrival meant the death if all that is green and fruitful, replaced by barren branches and ice glazed ground; and it would be eons before the next flower budded and showed its face. Then again, it was in those months he had the time to stay inside, watch children frolic in the leaf piles, throw snowballs at each other, he always looked forward to it.
"Remember the kids D? How they use to love pestering ya, then run away real fast, giggling to themselves?" He chuckled at that, remembering all too well. "You use to get so mad at them, then I had to hold you back to stop you from murdering those poor things."
He stepped down the wooden stairs, one hand brushing over the mahogany railing, feeling the fine Celtic carvings upon it. Water pounded with the fierceness of a raging river upon him, stinging his eyes. The formerly dry pajama pants he had been wearing now were soaked in that little time, the royal shade of blue deepening considerably with each new drop added. His uncovered chest was getting beat to a pulp, feathers sticking to him like glue. His bare feet trod upon the wet ground, leaving a trail of four-toed footprints wherever he went. He made his way over to the tree, tracing his fingers on the surface of the bark, getting a feel for the texture. Memories of climbing this tree's branches like a spider monkey flying back to him at light speed, memories of falling out and breaking his back also returning. With the innocence of a child gleaming in his eyes, he looked up to the branch in arms reach him. Somehow he remembered the magnolia tree being a lot taller, bigger than the old oak growing in the grove. He shrugged that thought off and grabbed onto the branch, folding his legs in, swinging himself back and forth, back and forth.
"I haven't done this in ages, not since I disturbed that bees' hive when I was fifteen. Heh. Haven't really touched this plant since, was terrified that I'd mess something else up. No wonder you called me a chicken wuss. I think the only reason I remember it, was. . .Yeah, you gave me that evil little birds and bees talk. You made fun of me the entire time. You and your bird jokes" He laughed, remembering all the innuendos he had thrown at him every waking moment back then
Letting himself slip off the branch, he headed out to the knoll past the wire fence that separated his land from the farmers'. The one thing he could not stand was that fence, it was not like the neighbors really cared if he pranced around the outskirts of their territory, as long as he didn't go into their crop, they could not care less. Time was, everything within fifty miles of here belonged to his family, it was never much to brag about, this land being all plains and valley, but it was theirs no matter.
Climbing over the wire, careful not to tear the delicate soles of his feet to shreds on any barbs, he wondered idly to himself why he never discussed tearing the blasted thing down with the family who lived across the way. Now, established on the other side, he took the liberty of flopping over on his back and rolling on the grass. If anyone caught him, highly doubtful, he'd break down laughing. He could imagine how silly he looked doing this, but who cared; it had been too long since he enjoyed the fragments of childhood he managed to grasp onto. Blades of grass stuck in his feathers, clumps of dirt imbedded in his wings, rocks jabbing him in the sides. Most people would have considered it cruel and unusual punishment, but not him. Stopping abruptly, he lay on his stomach, stretching out, then relaxing.
"You never seemed to like anything I did D. Me? I idolized you for years before you even noticed me" He snorted and put a hand on his forehead, giggling to himself. "You wouldn't believe some of the things I'd do to get your attention. When you threw that half-eaten box of chocolates at me, just so I'd shut up, I thought it was Christmas time." He shook his head in disbelief. "I counted that as the greatest day of my life then. Hoo boy. . ."
Rolling onto his back, wings splayed out to the sides uncomfortably, he looked up at the never-ending sky again. No matter how many times he looked, it was never the same. Each time, something was new, he couldn't tell you what, even have the slightest grip on it, but he knew something was different. Something was always different. He closed an eye, extending his arm to grab for the North Star. Somehow that was the first one he always managed to find, and it was always there for him. Call it flaky, even psychotic, but when no one else was around to talk to, he found conversation in the heavenly bodies themselves. Things had been like this for as long as he was allowed to gaze upon the outside world.
"I don't get you D. . .Derrick. You always kept me confused, always kept me away from you when I wanted to be close, held me tight when I wanted away. You were my enigma, my reason to live. . .Now that you're gone, what am I going to do? You said you'd come back. You promised. I'm still here. . .Have you forgotten me?" His normal smile dimmed as he thought about that. "You can't have forgotten me. No. Never. . .Could you? Mrhh. . ." He sat up, knees pressed firmly against his chest. "If I was a better person, you would have stayed with me, wouldn't you?" He sighed and pushed himself to his feet, brushing off his pants, flapping his wings, shaking loose some of the debris that had gathered in them.
He walked, head tilted up, all of him was focused on the blue. All too well he knew where he was going, the little patch of fruitless trees in the middle of the plain. He use to go there all the time with him, but not anymore, not since he left. Things never seemed that important anymore, everything he had loved slipped away into darkness.
The beating rain lessened in intensity, now merely a spring shower away from the anger it seemed to have possessed earlier. Still, thunder cackled, the occasional lightning strike jumped from cloud to cloud, like it was running away from home. Closing his eyes, shutting out everyone, he wandered on, drowning in himself. His thoughts drifted in and out of reality, patches of his life were scrambled together. He remembered growing up, the first time he met Derrick, the kindness, and the cruelty, the hatred and the obsession. Trace hints of a smile crept upon heart-shaped lips.
"Too long has it been since I've seen you, D. . .Far too long. Do you know I never stop thinking about you? Ever? If you did, would you have left me still?"
The ashen sky darkened, still thunder could be heard growling overhead, the spring showers were still awaiting their welcome, clawing away from winter's icy grasp. Cautiously, as though afraid, he cracked open his lids, fair golden eyes scanning the sky lackluster. Willow branches draped down, wanting to touch the ground, some with the appearance of avaricious fingers sprouting from withered hands, others starting anew, sharing their blossoming leaves to all who had eyes to see. The blue grass sparkled with droplets of water upon them, adding to the completeness of the scene.
A single moss-covered log resided amidst the rising shade provided by the trees. Coming to rest on his knees, a meager distance between him and the fallen tree. Like everything else, he reached to touch the bark, fingertips brushing over patches of moss, even the occasional mushroom or two. As everything else in this world, he connected this moment with his past, fond memories sweetened life for him. He closed his eyes another time, savoring the cracks of his childhood years he spent, the softness of the grass that use to be, and the swift breeze that always managed to drift his way on the hottest of summer days. Such was life.
Almost remorsefully, he put his hands on his knees and pushed himself up. He was sated for this day well spent. T'was his day, his day for remembrance of a childhood lost and a lover granted, an anniversary of sorts.
"I'm not going to cry for you D. I've spent so much of my time doing no more than mourning you. I wasted the best years of my life- all for you. . .I'm twenty-five D. . .Practically middle-aged as far as my creed goes." He hung his head, scratching it was a hand. Two pale red feathers, tinted in white floated down from him. "You see that?! I'm going hoary and bald already. . .Well. . .I guess Ill be leaving. You said one day you'd meet me in this place. . .And I shall always be here to find you.
Putting his hand in the air, waving it in such a fashion as to say 'goodbye', he paused, looking back* A small patch of red peeked through a minute hole in the bark, although tiny, it caught his eye immediately as if luring him in to see, to reveal what is was. Crouching down another time, he inched close to the log, placing his hands on either side of the hole; squinting his eyes, lips slightly parted, he silently whispered 'what is this. . .?'. It took him a few minuets before he dared to pull aside enough matter to touch the opening, with the softest touch of his fingers, most of what had been there collapsed.
A smile brighter than a thousands sunrises was set on his face. Carefully, as though not to bruise the thing inside, he slid his fingers over it hesitant to pick it up, lest he ruin its beauty. From within he drew a single red rose, more brilliant than rubies, petals softer than the finest of silks. He brought is to his nose, sniffing it, becoming ever more lost in the sweet aroma. He did not bother to wonder why it was there, cut and primped as it had been, it was of no matter to him, it was all too fitting for the day to make him care.
Mellifluous footsteps approached slowly, loving arms born in black satin, taut with muscle wrapped around him tenderly, caressing him like he was a teddy bear, an object of his affection. He leaned back into the chest of the man, flower still pressed to his nose, but the smooth scent of fresh aftershave still managed to reach his nose.
"It took you long enough to find that damn flower, Seif'." A pleasant voice, edging baritone, smooth as velvet whispered with more softness and love than many have yet to see.
"It took you long enough to come back D. . .Where were you?" His voice was shaky, about to crack any second now. Tears lined his eyes as his entire body trembled in. . . Joy?
"I was in the place where all dreams go." He said it jokingly, squeezing Seifer's sides to get that point across. An instant later he rested his head upon a feathered shoulder, planting butterfly kisses along his neck, spreading to his jaw line.
"Not funny. . ." Letting the rose away from his face, he swiftly turned around to face the man ". . .Derrick. . .Not funny at all." He took the liberty of hugging Derrick back in return, though he dug his claws into the man's side to emphasize that he was miffed.
Derrick chuckled light-heartedly and looked down into Seifer's eyes; a smirk crept onto his features at the sight of those yellow gems gleaming with vibrant life- just as he had remembered. "You earned that, lover boy." The smirk on his face turned into a full-fledged grin at the look on Seifer's face as he pouted from the response.
". . .Meanie. . ." He nudged Derrick's shoulder with his head affectionately, rubbing his cheek on the fabric of his shirt. "Always there to burst my soap bubble..." His shaking stopped, although his voice was as cracked as could be.
Their eyes met and held steady, Derrick's piercing emerald ones into Seifer's doughy yellows. They pulled into each other; lips barely away from each other were shy to touch.
The two stood there in silence. The soothing prairie breeze sifted through the trees, blowing the vine-like branches out of kilter, had anyone been looking close enough, it would seem like they were focusing around the people in their track. Morn gave away to afternoon, still they stood together. Embracing one another like they would never be together again.
The time came.
"How long will you love me, D?"
"I'll love you forever"
". . .How long is forever?"
"Forever's not long at all."
Lips came together deftly, scarcely to be called a kiss, however more passion remained in the action than could be written in a thousand volumes. The kiss grew in intensity, not harsh, nor in the least strong, just filled with devotion, love, passion, something that would last. . .Forever.
"To regret one's own experiences is to arrest one's own development. To deny one's own experiences is to put a lie into the lips of one's life. It is no less than a denial of the soul."
- Oscar Wilde, "De Profundis"
"Forever he said. What is forever? I remember asking him that a long time ago. He never told me, only smiled that beautiful smile of his and stared at the sun-bathed beach. Those days had gone by to fast, leaving only memories stored in their wake." He sighed softly, yellow eyes being covered by pale olive lids. "He told me so many things, taught me the meaning of what life is. Cruelty, love, despair. I learned them all through him. That wonderful, horrible, evil little man." He chuckled softly and clenched the red plaid comforter around him; it's where he felt safest, where the past was hidden in him.
He smiled faintly, white fangs just barely glistening in the fading light of the fire. His breathing slowed down, body utterly relaxed in that old chair. He was home. Home where the memories ended and life began and in the moments of peace, where he heard the gentle whisper of his fade away into darkness. Yes, this was his place; this is where he belonged, where he'd never leave.
"You told me to wait. Wait till the end of time itself, wait till you got back, wait for eternity. I am waiting all of eternity for you, my eternity. I wish I could have proved I loved you, but did that mean I had to walk on water? Sometimes things aren't that simple, are they?"
The fire's warm glow bathed the room in delicate light. All was deadly silent, lost to the nights' slumber, a true meaning to peace on earth. Sloping brick ceiling seemed to disappear to reveal the sky lingering high above. The walls convert to sand, crumble like dust with the lightest of breezes, the wooden floor given away to soil. As though the building in its whole masked itself in a cloak of time long since past, he could see the stars, constellation upon another, through closed eyes. The warmth of the entire planet seemingly looking down upon him, protecting him from harm, it wasn't enough. Not enough to replace the tender embrace he lost, not enough, not at all.
"Father . . .What would I have to do? Into your hands I commended myself, into your hands surrendered my soul, my heart, my love to you. I lived in your house, lived by your law. Every morning for five years, I did nothing but pray. . .Pray to you to keep him here. You didn't. You did nothing. How can I believe in you when you let angels die?" A single white feather fell into his face, soft down, it came from him.
Smile widening slightly, a short sigh before a feather clad hand picked it up, twiddling it between thumb and forefinger. Feathers on his arm, few and far in between, did not lack of the same dull claret color that the fallen one had. Amusing it was to him. Tilting his head back against the soft cushion of the chair, he sent the single feather adrift in the house.
"I'm feeling so faithless. Lost under this all, this mess of me." He shook his head slowly, smiling still all the while. "I'm becoming less then what I am. Everything I believed is falling, falling right in front of me. Every second I waste is more than I can bare, deliver me, Father. Are you even listening to me?"
Sound. The rain came, petering down, giving the loam living water to breathe, a soothing melody, sifting through tree branches, pinging on the mailbox, washing down from the roof onto a wooden porch. If you listened closely enough, you could almost hear the ocean roar far in the distance. His ears pricked up at the sound, ever present smile widening more and more.
"Do you hear that D? It's raining. You use to love the rain so much." He chuckled quietly to himself. "I remember seeing you just standing in the rain, getting soaked to the bone, looking so peaceful, like the water was washing your sins away. . .I'd give anything to see you like that again. Just once more, I'll never ask for anything else if I could get that.
Inside the fire cracked, tiny embers floating up from the source like little fireflies away from a gathering. Outside, rain assaulted the ground, the house, lone in the country held fast against nature for a hundred years and more. The country land maintained its glory through the passing of each dawn, unflawed, untouched by civilization, nothing but nature in its purest form.
He looked through the stained glass window, a multitude of colors dimly shone through, rain streaking the surface of the glass. "It's wonderful, is it not?" He stops, waiting for an answer that would not come.
Hesitantly, he sheds his cover, standing up. Evident now, head to toe. Feathers covered his body; mostly fluffy red down nowadays, always was not the case. Fitting to his plumage, a small set of wings followed behind him. In no shape or form were they for anything more than décor. Yet under this all, though barely evident, laid skin the color of olive, remnants of a heritage long since lost. Scuffing to the sliding glass door, he peers out, nose and palms pressed against the glass
"You wouldn't want me to be like this, would you? Missing you every waking moment, mourning you? No. . .You'd hate me for that." He winces involuntarily at his statement. "I can't help it. I miss you so much; you just left without saying goodbye. How am I not supposed to miss you?"
Thunder rumbled in the distance, a soothing growl to him. The sky, now painted with deep ocher, maroon, splashed with magnificent yellows and pinks – a masterpiece among itself. His eyes closed yet again. The colors themselves reminded him of his love, the way they blended together so perfectly, so completely.
"I wish you could see this. I know you hate the way I go on about nature, but it's different this time. Don't say something's not beautiful unless it has a five star hotel and world-class Hooters girls. You're wrong. . .How did I ever fall for you? We're so different, so much the same. Well, opposites attract, I guess."
Pushing the door aside, he stepped outside. Water stained the wood a darker shade of brown, still dry patches remained if you looked hard enough. He stood, arms hugging themselves for warmth, wings splayed to their fullest. The boards on which he stood creaked as he shifted his weight, stepping forth to peek beyond the extended porch. A magnolia tree hindered his view, branches gracing the old shingles of the roof. He looked forward to it blooming again; he loved the color of the blossom, loved seeing them flutter to the ground before they fell. He always lamented the coming of fall, winter even more so, the time of their arrival meant the death if all that is green and fruitful, replaced by barren branches and ice glazed ground; and it would be eons before the next flower budded and showed its face. Then again, it was in those months he had the time to stay inside, watch children frolic in the leaf piles, throw snowballs at each other, he always looked forward to it.
"Remember the kids D? How they use to love pestering ya, then run away real fast, giggling to themselves?" He chuckled at that, remembering all too well. "You use to get so mad at them, then I had to hold you back to stop you from murdering those poor things."
He stepped down the wooden stairs, one hand brushing over the mahogany railing, feeling the fine Celtic carvings upon it. Water pounded with the fierceness of a raging river upon him, stinging his eyes. The formerly dry pajama pants he had been wearing now were soaked in that little time, the royal shade of blue deepening considerably with each new drop added. His uncovered chest was getting beat to a pulp, feathers sticking to him like glue. His bare feet trod upon the wet ground, leaving a trail of four-toed footprints wherever he went. He made his way over to the tree, tracing his fingers on the surface of the bark, getting a feel for the texture. Memories of climbing this tree's branches like a spider monkey flying back to him at light speed, memories of falling out and breaking his back also returning. With the innocence of a child gleaming in his eyes, he looked up to the branch in arms reach him. Somehow he remembered the magnolia tree being a lot taller, bigger than the old oak growing in the grove. He shrugged that thought off and grabbed onto the branch, folding his legs in, swinging himself back and forth, back and forth.
"I haven't done this in ages, not since I disturbed that bees' hive when I was fifteen. Heh. Haven't really touched this plant since, was terrified that I'd mess something else up. No wonder you called me a chicken wuss. I think the only reason I remember it, was. . .Yeah, you gave me that evil little birds and bees talk. You made fun of me the entire time. You and your bird jokes" He laughed, remembering all the innuendos he had thrown at him every waking moment back then
Letting himself slip off the branch, he headed out to the knoll past the wire fence that separated his land from the farmers'. The one thing he could not stand was that fence, it was not like the neighbors really cared if he pranced around the outskirts of their territory, as long as he didn't go into their crop, they could not care less. Time was, everything within fifty miles of here belonged to his family, it was never much to brag about, this land being all plains and valley, but it was theirs no matter.
Climbing over the wire, careful not to tear the delicate soles of his feet to shreds on any barbs, he wondered idly to himself why he never discussed tearing the blasted thing down with the family who lived across the way. Now, established on the other side, he took the liberty of flopping over on his back and rolling on the grass. If anyone caught him, highly doubtful, he'd break down laughing. He could imagine how silly he looked doing this, but who cared; it had been too long since he enjoyed the fragments of childhood he managed to grasp onto. Blades of grass stuck in his feathers, clumps of dirt imbedded in his wings, rocks jabbing him in the sides. Most people would have considered it cruel and unusual punishment, but not him. Stopping abruptly, he lay on his stomach, stretching out, then relaxing.
"You never seemed to like anything I did D. Me? I idolized you for years before you even noticed me" He snorted and put a hand on his forehead, giggling to himself. "You wouldn't believe some of the things I'd do to get your attention. When you threw that half-eaten box of chocolates at me, just so I'd shut up, I thought it was Christmas time." He shook his head in disbelief. "I counted that as the greatest day of my life then. Hoo boy. . ."
Rolling onto his back, wings splayed out to the sides uncomfortably, he looked up at the never-ending sky again. No matter how many times he looked, it was never the same. Each time, something was new, he couldn't tell you what, even have the slightest grip on it, but he knew something was different. Something was always different. He closed an eye, extending his arm to grab for the North Star. Somehow that was the first one he always managed to find, and it was always there for him. Call it flaky, even psychotic, but when no one else was around to talk to, he found conversation in the heavenly bodies themselves. Things had been like this for as long as he was allowed to gaze upon the outside world.
"I don't get you D. . .Derrick. You always kept me confused, always kept me away from you when I wanted to be close, held me tight when I wanted away. You were my enigma, my reason to live. . .Now that you're gone, what am I going to do? You said you'd come back. You promised. I'm still here. . .Have you forgotten me?" His normal smile dimmed as he thought about that. "You can't have forgotten me. No. Never. . .Could you? Mrhh. . ." He sat up, knees pressed firmly against his chest. "If I was a better person, you would have stayed with me, wouldn't you?" He sighed and pushed himself to his feet, brushing off his pants, flapping his wings, shaking loose some of the debris that had gathered in them.
He walked, head tilted up, all of him was focused on the blue. All too well he knew where he was going, the little patch of fruitless trees in the middle of the plain. He use to go there all the time with him, but not anymore, not since he left. Things never seemed that important anymore, everything he had loved slipped away into darkness.
The beating rain lessened in intensity, now merely a spring shower away from the anger it seemed to have possessed earlier. Still, thunder cackled, the occasional lightning strike jumped from cloud to cloud, like it was running away from home. Closing his eyes, shutting out everyone, he wandered on, drowning in himself. His thoughts drifted in and out of reality, patches of his life were scrambled together. He remembered growing up, the first time he met Derrick, the kindness, and the cruelty, the hatred and the obsession. Trace hints of a smile crept upon heart-shaped lips.
"Too long has it been since I've seen you, D. . .Far too long. Do you know I never stop thinking about you? Ever? If you did, would you have left me still?"
The ashen sky darkened, still thunder could be heard growling overhead, the spring showers were still awaiting their welcome, clawing away from winter's icy grasp. Cautiously, as though afraid, he cracked open his lids, fair golden eyes scanning the sky lackluster. Willow branches draped down, wanting to touch the ground, some with the appearance of avaricious fingers sprouting from withered hands, others starting anew, sharing their blossoming leaves to all who had eyes to see. The blue grass sparkled with droplets of water upon them, adding to the completeness of the scene.
A single moss-covered log resided amidst the rising shade provided by the trees. Coming to rest on his knees, a meager distance between him and the fallen tree. Like everything else, he reached to touch the bark, fingertips brushing over patches of moss, even the occasional mushroom or two. As everything else in this world, he connected this moment with his past, fond memories sweetened life for him. He closed his eyes another time, savoring the cracks of his childhood years he spent, the softness of the grass that use to be, and the swift breeze that always managed to drift his way on the hottest of summer days. Such was life.
Almost remorsefully, he put his hands on his knees and pushed himself up. He was sated for this day well spent. T'was his day, his day for remembrance of a childhood lost and a lover granted, an anniversary of sorts.
"I'm not going to cry for you D. I've spent so much of my time doing no more than mourning you. I wasted the best years of my life- all for you. . .I'm twenty-five D. . .Practically middle-aged as far as my creed goes." He hung his head, scratching it was a hand. Two pale red feathers, tinted in white floated down from him. "You see that?! I'm going hoary and bald already. . .Well. . .I guess Ill be leaving. You said one day you'd meet me in this place. . .And I shall always be here to find you.
Putting his hand in the air, waving it in such a fashion as to say 'goodbye', he paused, looking back* A small patch of red peeked through a minute hole in the bark, although tiny, it caught his eye immediately as if luring him in to see, to reveal what is was. Crouching down another time, he inched close to the log, placing his hands on either side of the hole; squinting his eyes, lips slightly parted, he silently whispered 'what is this. . .?'. It took him a few minuets before he dared to pull aside enough matter to touch the opening, with the softest touch of his fingers, most of what had been there collapsed.
A smile brighter than a thousands sunrises was set on his face. Carefully, as though not to bruise the thing inside, he slid his fingers over it hesitant to pick it up, lest he ruin its beauty. From within he drew a single red rose, more brilliant than rubies, petals softer than the finest of silks. He brought is to his nose, sniffing it, becoming ever more lost in the sweet aroma. He did not bother to wonder why it was there, cut and primped as it had been, it was of no matter to him, it was all too fitting for the day to make him care.
Mellifluous footsteps approached slowly, loving arms born in black satin, taut with muscle wrapped around him tenderly, caressing him like he was a teddy bear, an object of his affection. He leaned back into the chest of the man, flower still pressed to his nose, but the smooth scent of fresh aftershave still managed to reach his nose.
"It took you long enough to find that damn flower, Seif'." A pleasant voice, edging baritone, smooth as velvet whispered with more softness and love than many have yet to see.
"It took you long enough to come back D. . .Where were you?" His voice was shaky, about to crack any second now. Tears lined his eyes as his entire body trembled in. . . Joy?
"I was in the place where all dreams go." He said it jokingly, squeezing Seifer's sides to get that point across. An instant later he rested his head upon a feathered shoulder, planting butterfly kisses along his neck, spreading to his jaw line.
"Not funny. . ." Letting the rose away from his face, he swiftly turned around to face the man ". . .Derrick. . .Not funny at all." He took the liberty of hugging Derrick back in return, though he dug his claws into the man's side to emphasize that he was miffed.
Derrick chuckled light-heartedly and looked down into Seifer's eyes; a smirk crept onto his features at the sight of those yellow gems gleaming with vibrant life- just as he had remembered. "You earned that, lover boy." The smirk on his face turned into a full-fledged grin at the look on Seifer's face as he pouted from the response.
". . .Meanie. . ." He nudged Derrick's shoulder with his head affectionately, rubbing his cheek on the fabric of his shirt. "Always there to burst my soap bubble..." His shaking stopped, although his voice was as cracked as could be.
Their eyes met and held steady, Derrick's piercing emerald ones into Seifer's doughy yellows. They pulled into each other; lips barely away from each other were shy to touch.
The two stood there in silence. The soothing prairie breeze sifted through the trees, blowing the vine-like branches out of kilter, had anyone been looking close enough, it would seem like they were focusing around the people in their track. Morn gave away to afternoon, still they stood together. Embracing one another like they would never be together again.
The time came.
"How long will you love me, D?"
"I'll love you forever"
". . .How long is forever?"
"Forever's not long at all."
Lips came together deftly, scarcely to be called a kiss, however more passion remained in the action than could be written in a thousand volumes. The kiss grew in intensity, not harsh, nor in the least strong, just filled with devotion, love, passion, something that would last. . .Forever.