The lighthouse?

I could see it out on the rocks but it hadn't been working for years. I smiled as the light hit me in waves that fell in time with the sea. It was beautiful here even if it was haunted by childhood. I supposed to myself that it hadn't been all that bad. So many had it much worse than I ever did.

I could hear the far off clang of the water buoy and when I squinted in the pale and jarring light I could distantly make out a boat. A small one, not much more than a yacht. It rolled wildly in the turbulent sea, tossed like nothing more than a paper figurine.

For some reason, I felt a pull on my heart as I watched it, like there were an invisible line creating a connection between us; a bond. It strengthened and I pulled back in surprise. It was pulling me forward. Towards the water's edge. What was this?

"Stop," I said loudly, trying to bring some authority to my voice.

"Stop!"

It did not cease. It dragged me further into the water. Past my ankles and up to my knees, sliding precariously on the crumble of rocks beneath the surface. Stretching out my arms to keep my head above water I struggled and thrashed while the boat pulled me towards it. At least I would be safe when I reached it. I tried to calm myself and remember all those swimming lessons I had been forced to take whilst at Leythe. Hadn't we all stood along the edge, cold and deterred as an invisible force tried to drag us in?

"Please! Help me," I cried as the waves crashed over me and I struggled. Why was this happening? Why did I come into the water?

Come closer.

I heard the whisper as the sound echoed in my ears, the groggy music of beneath the surface. It sounded like an operatic piece. When I surfaced again I saw no boat. Only black expanses of sky and deep ocean blanketing me. Where was the lighthouse? I couldn't hear the ringing of the buoy.

"Help!"

My arms began to ache as I tried to stay afloat, my legs rapidly losing sensation.

I could feel the wetness against my skin as the sea enveloped me once again.

I hadn't woken Ivo this time which surprised me with me being such a light sleeper and him the heavy one. The sheets around me were damp with sweat but there was nothing I could do about it. I pushed my hair back from my face and lit a cigarette in my shaky hands. I was tempted to take a drink but no doubt Ivo had found the last of the alcohol hidden around the flat.

He grunted next to me and I glanced at him, nervous he would waken. I hated when he saw me like this. It just further substantiated the idea that I was weak, listless, helpless. That I wasn't a man in any way.

I don't know why it bothered me so. I suppose because my identity had always been defined by those around me that I wanted to create one for myself. I laughed when I realised that was something Ivo had said to me. A writer really is as unoriginal as they come. I looked at my latest book that lay on the floor on the far side of the room on top of some laundry. It only existed because of Ivo. All of my success could be attributed to him really. He made me get up in the morning. Literally and metaphorically.

I wondered how much of this I could endure. Not that I had any other options in mind, simply that this kind of existence couldn't be sustained for long without being permeated by insanity.

"Tim."

I jumped when I heard Ivo sigh my name but when I looked at him he remained unconscious. I wondered whether he was having dreams in the same magnitude of horror as mine or whether this was one of his usual hormone driven envisions of lustful thoughts. He gave a deep groan and I had my answer.

I wondered what the dream version of myself was doing to give Ivo such pleasure as his mouth twitched into a slight, satisfied smile. I wished it could be that easy between us. Each session of counselling seemed to make things worse instead of better as I recounted the various ways in which my past now bled into my present.

I pulled open my bedside drawer and re-read the letter from the solicitor. I could hear Ivo's voice in my head.

This is great news. Those bastards are getting what's coming to them. This is the way to put it all behind you and then we can move on with our lives.

Put it all behind me so that he doesn't have to live with a specter anymore. The boy who haunts his hallways and only comes to life in his dreams.

I leaned down to kiss his cheek and he startled me as his eyes opened.

"Tim," he questioned groggily, seeming disappointed. "What's wrong," he asked, sitting up in a panic. Night time awakenings never seemed to mean anything good in our house anymore.

"Nothing," I soothed. "I just wanted to kiss you," I said, more bashfully than I thought I could be with him anymore. I suppose we hadn't seen each other naked in so long I was feeling embarrassed.

He held my gaze longingly, believing that I was off limits to him. Not like before. It hadn't been like before in a long time.

"Oh."

"I'm sorry," I said petulantly when I came to the conclusion that he didn't want me in reality but I inhaled sharply as he leaned forward swiftly to kiss me.

"I've missed you," he sighed against my lips and my stomach fluttered.

"Didn't know I'd been away," I chuckled, feeling more like myself.

You're always away," he said sadly. "The curse of being in love with a writer. They love what's in the make believe world, not what's in this one." He looked at me imploringly and my mind worked at a mile a minute. Every time I thought I had it figured out he was a step ahead of me.

"You were dreaming about me," I stated with a clipped tone, as if he were cheating on me with myself.

"Yes," he replied. "You were shredding some of my students papers in order to make confetti," he laughed with a sigh and a shake of his head.

My eyes widened.

"I thought you were having a dream about us having sex."

His hands cupped my face as he pecked my lips with his.

"Is that wishful thinking Mr Cornish?"

I smirked.

"Mmm. Perhaps."

He grew more fierce then. I'd missed it so I didn't mind that he was being forceful.

"You won't be so smug when I'm finished."

"So long as you finish me too," I sniped back cheekily.

My heart gave a dry thud when I heard the sound and felt the sharp sting of the slap on my face.

"Behave yourself," he warned.

I was conflicted between throwing him off and egging him on but he seemed to be ignoring me now as he positioned himself above me after rifling in his bedside drawer. He paused with his elbows either side of me and his body pressed flush to mine.

"Tim, why is the bed damp?"

I blushed and he sighed, his forehead resting on mine. It was tender and sweet and unexpected.

"Do you need a cuddle," he whispered.

I didn't reply and I felt one of those awkward backwards tears, that kind that happens when you are lying down, sliding along my temple. He brushed it away with his thumb and then pulled off me to lay beside me.

"Why didn't you say?"

I looked away from his gaze.

"Because if I said all the time, it would never stop."

We lay there for a while, his fingers intertwined with mine and our eyes locked on each other. I smiled and I could feel the kind of happiness in my heart that hadn't really ever been there before Ivo. He grinned devilishly and pulled at me until I took the hint to climb on top of him.

"You know I love you, Tim."

"Yes."

He stroked the ring on my finger and pulled my knuckles to his lips to kiss it.

"I know you love me."

I nodded, becoming breathless as he massaged my hip bones.

"This is reality," he said solemnly. "Love isn't like the books. It's hard."

"You're hard," I teased as I moved my hips in a smooth rhythm against him.

He gasped and closed his eyes, done with feeding me wisdom for the evening.

"Just let me love you, okay?"

I grinned.