Justin was shocked to the core and so happy he could barely breathe. Enigma had taken everything he'd written about seriously. For a brief moment, he wished for something that had frightened him for years. He wished he could hear Enigma's voice or look into his eyes, verify the truth of what he'd written. He wanted so much to believe that it was real. To take it at face value. But, as Enigma had stated, the world was filled with fake and cruel people. Was Enigma mocking him? Just pretending to understand him, to admire him? He wished he knew. There was only one way to find out.

From: buttercup

To: enigma

Date: Sat, June 15, 2003 at 12:01 am

Subject: Stuff and Things

Enigma,

I often feel the same way. That something is missing. But emailing with you has been a real pleasure. It's made me crave things I haven't craved in years. So I have a crazy idea. How about IMing instead of emailing? I'm buttercup1983 on AIM. If you want to IM me after you get back from clubbing, I'll be up for a while. I usually do my writing at night.

Buttercup

Justin hit 'Send' and sat staring at his screen. He was actually trembling. He wanted so much for Enigma to IM him tonight. But he was scared out of his mind. What would he say to Enigma? Would he be a disappointment? Would he be disappointed? Justin usually avoided new people and people in general for this very reason.

He wasn't going to be able to write. So he padded into the kitchen and made some coffee. Then, he started cleaning up a bit, folding throw blankets, putting books back on shelves, washing some dishes. Every once in a while he'd peek at his screen. He usually kept the volume off, so Ethan wouldn't be disturbed, but he was so worried that he'd miss an IM from Enigma, worried that if he didn't respond fast enough, Enigma would sign off. He moved to turn the speaker on, but, then, thought better of it.

Instead, Justin sat down and started straightening his desk. He put his various pencils and pens in their respective cups and closed the two sketch pads that lay open from earlier, before the party, when he'd been trying to imagine what Enigma looked like. He had decided that he was most certainly lean…that his features were often filled with tension. He had drawn a few possible faces. They all looked a little like the way he imagined Aidan. He placed his sketch pads in a drawer.

Justin paused for a moment when his eyes lighted on a dry faded yellow rose. Ethan had given it to him their first year together. Back then, they didn't have a car or very much money, so Ethan would walk the two miles home from work. Every day (except in the winter), he'd bring Justin a flower he'd taken from someone's garden. They were always different. Justin sighed. Things had been much different back then. Ethan would praise his cooking (to Justin, not bragging about it to others, which was all he did now on that score) and call him 'Beautiful' like it was a pet name. He'd draw baths for Justin and, then, come into the bathroom to wash and condition his hair. After he'd stepped out and dried off, Ethan would brush his hair, which was actually pretty long. It reached his shoulders. Back then, Justin had felt loved and adored.

But he was more than a body and more than a cook and a maid. Unfortunately, Ethan didn't admire his writing or his art, such as it was. He'd never even read one sentence he'd written, and he usually pointed out the flaws in his art. The criticism was always couched in concerns about his health, but that didn't make Justin feel any better. He'd just stopped showing him his drawings. Justin blinked back tears brought on by thoughts of his drawing. Once upon a time, he could sketch anything and make it look real. Perfect. And his hand never got tired or ached. He had twenty sketchbooks filled with everything. Portraits of everyone he cared about and some of the attractive boys with whom he attended high school. Then, one night, he lost everything. Everything.

Justin was seventeen at the time. He'd finally admitted to himself that he was gay, and he'd wanted to tell the world. He'd finally made sense of the fact that he'd never seemed to fit. He'd never cared for sports, in fact, he'd loathed them, though he'd enjoyed watching the other boys practicing. He'd never had the feelings he'd thought he should have for Daphne, his girlfriend. He'd thought she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever met, inside and out, and he'd loved her. But though he'd enjoyed drawing her, giving and receiving hugs, and snuggling, he'd never really desired her. His parents were good friends with hers, and they'd often discussed Justin and Daphne's wedding. Everyone had assumed they'd get married one day. But that was never to be. Shortly before prom, he'd realized he was gay. Daphne had taken it pretty well, considering. She'd cried, mourning her hopes and dreams for the future, but, then, she'd told him that she wanted him to be happy, that she'd always be there for him. Then, she was gone. Once her parents had found out that Justin was gay, they'd sent her off to Europe. Justin's heart ached just thinking about it.

Daphne's parents had not only sent Daphne away but had also outed him to everyone. His parents, the parents of everyone at school, the school board, and his teachers. Pretty soon, he was being mocked and tormented by everyone. Especially the jocks at school. They'd started beating him up nearly every day. Back then, he'd had more courage. Despite the fact that Daphne was gone and all his friends ignored him, he'd decided to go to prom. Mostly because he didn't want anyone to think they could intimidate him. He wasn't going to just disappear. That had been a mistake. He'd gone alone and had no one to dance with, but he'd stood there all night, drinking punch and pretending to enjoy the music. When it had ended, he'd walked out to his mother's car, which he'd borrowed for the night. Chris Hobbs was waiting there for him, holding a bat. Chris wasn't his best friend, but they'd been close despite the fact that Justin liked art and Chris was all about football. Chris was one of the boys he'd drawn most often, and, once he'd admitted to himself that he was gay, he'd realized that he'd always had a crush on the boy. Imagine his surprise and horror, when this friend, this crush, had ruined his life with one swing of a bat.

Justin had been in a coma for a week. After he'd woken up, his mother visited, but just once. She'd come to check on him and to inform him that his father no longer wanted anything to do with him. Apparently, his father had begrudgingly accepted the fact that he had a gay son until news of it hit the press. When Daphne's parents had outed him, out of respect for Justin's father, they'd neglected to spread it around the country club. Some of the parents of kids from Justin's high school belonged to the country club, but they, too, kept it to themselves. So Craig had not been stigmatized for his son's orientation. In fact, the people who knew seemed to pity him. But after the bashing, everyone, everyone, knew. People who did not care for Craig had begun to taunt him, and the news was affecting his business. By the time his son had awoke from the coma, he'd already lost several important clients.

During his mother's one and only visit to the hospital in the month he was there after waking up, she'd smiled at him and brought flowers. But the smile was obviously fake. Her eyes were filled with the disappointment that had resided there since she'd found out, since she'd lost her potential daughter-in-law and had been forced to give up the pretty picture she'd painted of Justin's future. Right before she'd left, she'd hastily told him that he was on his own for college tuition. Craig had justified this move by stating that Justin's shameful secret coming to light was costing him so many clients that he could no longer afford it. However, that hadn't stopped Craig from buying a yacht later that year.

What was most painful was not his being ostracized at school, his friend's attacking him, his father's disowning him, or his mother's disappointment, but Daphne's continued absence. Surely, she'd heard news of the attack from friends or her parents. But she'd never visited. She'd never even called, written, or emailed. Nothing. It was as though everyone he'd ever cared about had erased him from their life. Like he was no longer relevant.

Then, he'd met Ethan. Ethan was in the hospital with a broken leg at the time. He'd lost a music competition, gotten too drunk, and fallen down a long staircase. They'd shared a room for the last two weeks Justin was in the hospital because Ethan's break was complicated and required him to be in traction. They'd started dating while they were still in the hospital, and, when it was time to leave, Justin went home with Ethan. And stayed.

Justin was pulled out of his sad reverie by something blinking on his screen. Holy shit! Enigma had IMed him!