Date: Mon, 11 Feb 2008 19:09:31 -0800 (PST) From: Zare Scott Subject: Rip Tide, Chapter 16 Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. It depicts a romance between two consenting adult males and may contain some descriptions of sexual act between two consenting adult males. If you are not of legal age to read this kind of story, please leave now. If you reside in area where reading stories that include sexual situations between two consenting adult males are illegal, please leave now. This story is for entertainment purposes only. Any similarity to any person(s) living or dead is simply a coincidence. The author retains all rights to this story. It cannot be reproduced in any form without expressed written permission from the author (me). Please contact the author for any requests at raspucin70@yahoo.com. Copyright 2008 Ch 16: The Whiteout (Matt's point of view) I woke up, startled and confused. It was very early - the dawn painted the sky in a dim gray as I glanced through the window. I stared at the ceiling for several seconds, totally disoriented. I had no idea what time it was, what day, or why I had the feeling that something big and important had happened. I had had that feeling before, a long time ago, when my family had moved into our new house; for days on end, I would wake up not knowing where I was. Now the same feeling was back, tantalizingly ambiguous and foggy in my brain. But I had been living here long enough to know the patterns of the shades of my room. I hadn't moved, at least not that recently. I rolled on my side, still mystified about what it was that seemed so disconcerting. Had I just woken up from a dream? I closed my eyes again and gathered the blanket closer to my body, pleasantly lulled by the mixed-up thoughts going through my head. Nothing that I could... I bolted upright in my bed, suddenly completely awake. All the events from last night came back to me, in a blizzard-like flash, illuminating my mind in a fraction of a second as I saw the sight that was on the other side of my room. I was staring for what seemed like an eternity, still unable to comprehend the sight that was in front of me, only several feet from my bed. Hayden was sleeping on the couch, not even three feet away . It took me several very long minutes to take in that fact, but I still couldn't believe my eyes. Bracing my knees, I rested my head on my hands, still looking at him. I just couldn't believe it. The events from last night were too surreal, too fantastic. It was still too much for me to grasp. I got out of bed, very quietly pushing the bed covers away. I was literarily afraid that his presence in my room was just a figment of my imagination, just a mirage, and that if I took my eyes off of him, or made too loud a noise, or just breathed too coarsely, he would disappear. Still trying to be as quiet as possible, I stepped to Hayden, feeling like a thief in my own room, sneaking up to him like that. I stood up above him, trembling. I was not cold so much as I was feeling an inner shudder that was coursing through my body. Hayden was sleeping, with his left arm underneath his head. It was a beautiful, dreamy sight that still seemed strangely out of place, and yet at the same time so right. Nicki...in my room...on my couch. A smile came across my face, without me even noticing it. The masculine line of his jaw was now accented with a shadow of a beard, making him look even manlier. My hand instinctively extended towards his face, but I withdrew it. I didn't want to wake him up, but at the same time I wanted to be close to him. I wanted to scurry myself next to him, but I knew that the couch was too narrow for both of us to lay on it comfortably. I stood there for several seconds, studying him. I could look at his handsome face for hours, and not be tired of it. I turned around: even though my bed was only a couple of feet away, to me that was too far from him at this moment. I wanted to be next to him. Quietly, I sat on the floor, leaning with my back against the couch. Hayden's right hand was h a! nging a bit over the edge of the couch, almost as thought he was reaching for something in his sleep. The way I was sitting, his hand was inches away from my face. In a strange way, it filled me with comfort, as he was almost touching me. I shuddered again, and then I pulled the blanket from my bed to wrap myself in it, thinking about all that had happened last night. It was still too unreal to comprehend, no matter how many times I had replayed last night's events in my head. ...Hayden, looking at me, wide eyed, almost in shock as I was screaming at him in the middle of his living room, moments before I bolted out into the night, all discombobulated and disjointed... ...Then later, finding him on my doorstep, sleeping and shivering in his sleep. ...Him, coming to me in my bathroom, with that ominous looks in his eyes. And only seconds later, when he grabbed me, grabbed me so tightly, just to plant his hot lips on mine. Oh my God, he kissed me. I absentmindedly touched my lips, as if I needed reassurance that those were my lips that had been tasting Nicki's, with such ferocity that was hard for me to describe. It was by far the most intense feeling that I had experienced my whole life! My whole body shuddered again, this time from the recollection of that kiss. That was not just a kiss; Hayden pushed his whole body into me, grabbing me tightly while planting his mouth onto mine. And how his hands were so gently holding my face while he maintained a firm pressure with his body into mine, commanding attention, taking me completely. At that moment the whole building could have collapsed around us, and I wouldn't have noticed anything. All my senses were focused on this tiny portion of the universe that was him and me, embraced tightly. And the center of that universe was the spot where our lips were touching, burning an irreplaceable sensation into my soul. He kissed me. I still couldn't believe it. I looked over my shoulder. He was still sleeping, quietly. This time I couldn't resist; I extended my hand and very gently touched his face. That reassured me that he was real, that that kiss was real, that this morning was real. I withdrew my hand and rested my head on my crossed hands. Last night's events came back, rushing through my mind, all over again. Hayden and I left the bathroom, still holding each other. He was still limping a little bit, so I helped him sit on the couch. The anxiety started to upsurge in me, and I didn't even know why. Nervously, almost aimlessly, I went back to the kitchen and retrieved the two cups of tea that I had prepared earlier. Coming back to the room, my chest started to cramp once again. It was an indescribable feeling of confusion, a bizarre sense of being totally lost, and treading water without any course or direction. This was new territory for me, and I was getting into it head-first, without any ideas or pathways of where I should go or what I should do next. With my shaky hands, I placed the cups on the table and turned to him. Again, there was a look in his eyes that I couldn't describe. Those dark, penetrating eyes, that were boring into my soul, locked onto mine once again. In a snap, he grabbed my hand so he could pull me close to him and, seconds later, my lips were on his again, kissing, tasting, probing. I was kissing him all over again...and it was exhilarating and wonderful just as it had been minutes ago. His lips were setting my whole head on fire, his strong hands holding my head so gently and yet so firmly. My head was spinning, my body was spinning...the whole room was spinning... I had to unlock myself from him to catch my breath. He was still looking at me, with the same intensity as a minute ago. Or was it an hour ago? The concept of time was foreign to me at that point. I moved myself into a more comfortable position, closer to him, and we continued to kiss, this time more tentatively, more carefully, trying to m! ake the moment last longer. I was not sure what was happening to me, but my whole body felt as if it was floating, weightless, and connected to only one thing in this world - Hayden's mouth. Oh, those wonderful lips! He was not just returning my kiss; he was giving it all, kissing me back with such passion that I never knew existed. Never in my life had I experienced such wonderful feelings before. It was as if his lips were sending electric current straight into my brain. I was trembling in his arms, as if I was cold, while experiencing a heat wave that was emanating from him and burning through me. My eyes remained closed, as we kissed. There were too many things going on, and I was afraid that, if I opened my eyes, I might faint. He was still holding my head, very gently caressing my face, moving his thumbs that were resting on my cheek bones, in small circles. That alone was enough to put me over the edge, but somehow I was managing to hang on, to be there, not to end or i! nterrupt this wonderful and incredible moment. Finally, we pulled our mouths apart, gasping. My chest was heaving: my whole body was tingling as I was lying almost on top of him, with my hands resting on each side of his body. He moved upwards a bit, making more space for both of us on the narrow couch. I moved too, nestling my head on his chest. Hayden moved his hands to embrace me in a hug, gently caressing my shoulders. The heaviness of his strong hands on my shoulders and back felt comforting in a manner that I had never thought possible. I felt safe, I felt protected, and... My throat became tight with emotions again, as I welcomed the feeling despite the tension that it was bringing into me. I felt loved. The realization of that feeling sent me in a state of total emotional bliss, accompanied by a sensation of warmth the likes of which I had never experienced before in my life. I felt as if I was melting inside, dissolving at every seam of my being and at every fold of my soul. And the fire that was fueling all that was right there, embracing me with his strong arms, making light motions over my shoulder while my hand was resting on his broad chest, ensuring me even more that the moment was real. I grabbed his hand in mine, and held tightly, feeling his fingers with mine. He responded with light touches on top of my palm, remaining the gentle presence that was melting me into pieces. I don't know how long we stayed like that. I think we both fell asleep in each other's arms. I woke up perhaps an hour later, startled and confused, and in my own bed. The room was much colder now, and despite wearing my long-sleeve t-shirt, I was still feeling the coldness of the early morning air on my arms. I sat up, as gently as I could. Hayden was sleeping, with his hands crossed over his chest, still wearing his sweatshirt. "How come I'm in my bed now?" the thought came upon me while I was drowsily looking at him. Hayden...Hayden must have carried me into my own bed and then returned to the couch. Confused about this whole evening, I placed my feet on the cold floor, still thinking. Was this...was this just a dream? Was this just a sick joke of my mind, playing a cruel game with me? I glanced towards Hayden. No, this was real. It had to be. Incredible things like that kiss did not happen in the dreams, for the simple reason that they are too fantastic. I looked at him again. Just looking at him sent waves of warmth through my soul. Still shivering, I got up. The room was cold, so I got my only spare blanket from the closet. I meant to crawl back onto the couch next to him, but I realized that my couch was way too narrow for the two of us to sleep comfortably. For a moment I was thinking of waking him up so we could move to my bed, but I decided not to. I still didn't know what Hayden's position towards all this was. I didn't want to freak him out by inviting him in my bed in the middle ! of the night. And he had clearly made his choice by staying on the couch. I stood over him for a moment, musing over this whole thing. "If this is real" I thought to myself, "and he is here after all this...why does he prefer not to be with me? Why does he want to stay distant and..." I sighed, not finding any answer. I realized that fact was starting to bother me at an alarming rate, so I decided to deliberately dismiss it. Hayden was here. That was all that mattered to me. He was here with me, now. That was all that I cared for at that moment. I covered him up with the comforter from my bed and regretfully returned to my own bed. I sighed, watching him. My body was yearning to be close to him, just as we were hours ago; I almost got up again, but I scalded myself for thinking in such manner. "Hayden needs to rest, and you cannot burden him with your selfish needs anymore". With determination, I closed my eyes, still feeling really guilty for him sleeping on the couch while I was in my comfortable bed. I was tossing an idea in my head, knowing that he would not accept to trade places with me, and at the same time, being unsure whether or not he would be comfortable sharing my bed with me. I sighed again and closed my eyes. I hadn't slept for more than an hour when I woke up, startled and confused. I moved on the floor next to Hayden. Now, I was feeling much better there, despite being fairly uncomfortable on the hard floor. It didn't matter. All I knew was that I was next to him, and that was more than enough for me. My eyelids became heavy as I was listening to his even breathing, lulling me into a most comfortable feeling of being wholesome with someone that I yearned for so long. I drifted to a peaceful sleep in a matter of minutes. (Hayden's point of view) I woke up, blinking several times to get the last bits of sleep out of my eyes. I felt dizzy, as if I had been drinking last night. The pressure in my head was accompanied by that familiar feeling as I was looking around the room. I knew where I was immediately. It was morning, and I was lying on the couch in Matt's room, with Matt right by my side next to the couch, curled into the blanket. As I was lying still, gathering all my senses, it became more and more clear to me that there was something very different about this morning. This morning was carrying something distinctive, something special. Unlike any other morning when I woke up next to a girl, this time I woke up next to someone for whom I had much deeper feelings. I woke up next to Matt, the boy who took my life by a storm, destroying completely all my composure and self-control, all the things that I had worked so hard to achieve the previous years. He took all that and smashed it into pieces, without even being aware of any of my internal havoc. And I didn't care. Quite the opposite. I looked at his bowed head, as he was leaning his head on his hands, sleeping. I extended my hand, lovingly stroking his hair with a gentle motion. He moved in his sleep, and I moved my hand back, but he was already waking up. I watched as he lifted his head and blinked several times into the morning light, and then turned his head to me. Oh, those eyes. Every time he looked at me I relived the same wonderful experience of the immense depth of those blue eyes. He lifted himself up just slightly, enough to reach with his hands around my body and to come closer to me. I closed my eyes as I was expecting him to kiss me, but my lips remained vacant. I opened my eyes, meeting his hesitant gaze. I looked at him, confused, and then I realized: he wasn't hesitating at all. He was taking in the moment, us being close, us being together. This time I didn't want to think about it at all. This boy pushed my every limit, every border that I didn't even know existed, and I didn't want to go back anymore. I pulled myself into an upright position, as he came closer to meet my eager lips. There was no hesitation, no ambiguity in his eyes as he embraced me and we kissed each other, this time very gently, very carefully. It was still a strange feeling, filled with emotions that I didn't even know existed so far. Our lips unlocked, finally: "Good morning," he said, barely stifling a smile. " 'Morning," I replied, smiling. He was still looking at me, and I was returning his gaze. We sat there, grinning at each other like a couple of idiots for a longest time. He had his hands extended along both sides of my neck, gently stroking my skin while he was looking at me. And I couldn't look away, lost in those oceans of blue that he captured me with, once again. "Is this...real?" he whispered, getting a serious look on his face. I nodded, my lips curled up in a smile. He remained serious, still looking at me. "I don't think this is real. I cannot believe that you are here right now," he continued, in a barely audible voice. "Believe it...because I still can't," I replied stroking his hair. We just sat there, not saying anything for a minute or two, when he leaned into me again. His kiss was merely a brush of his lips on mine, but it meant so much more than any other kiss I had had with any other girl so far. Then he hugged me, very tightly, and a sigh escaped his lungs. "I didn't think this much happiness is possible. I don't think I can take it, Nicki," he whispered in my neck. I smiled silently, gently stroking his back. He was right. This many emotions definitely caused an overload of my senses too, but I loved every second of it! And no, I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. "Yeah...I know," I continued. He pushed himself gently from me, still sitting in my lap somewhat sideways. I could see a trace of a tear in his left eye, but his composure was back. "Do you want some breakfast?" he said with a smile. "Sure...I would love to," I replied, fighting with a vertigo that suddenly came upon me. We both got up and got into the kitchen. It was an unusual feeling for me, despite the very familiar notions of preparing the breakfast with somebody. I wanted to sit back and watch Matt do everything, and at the same time I wanted to hold him and let everything burn to a crisp. Matt was obviously feeling the same, since he was looking more at me than at the food that he was pulling out of the fridge. He almost dropped the carton of eggs, while he was still staring at me. "Sorry...I'm not used to this," he said, with an adorable combination of embarrassment and apology. "It's okay," I smiled back, dissipating his nervousness from the air. In the end, I ended up making most of the breakfast myself. I didn't mind; Matt was just finishing up toasting the bread while I was overlooking the eggs on the stove. He came behind me, and hugged me from behind, placing his head on my shoulder. I could only grab his hand with one of mine, but I think that was enough for him. Even when the toaster popped out our slices, he remained glued to me. "Hey space cadet...you want to move to the table?" I asked him gently, looking over my shoulder. He nodded his head, still leaning on me for a couple of long seconds, before reluctantly unlocking his hands from my waist. We sat down and started to eat, neither of us saying much. Both he and I were looking at each other more than we looked at our food. We were barely half way through our meal when he got up from his chair, leaving his breakfast unfinished and came to me, clasping his hand around me again from behind. "Sorry...I know I'm being silly," he murmured into my neck. I hugged his arms, embraced around my chest. "You are not being silly at all, Matt...I want this, too," I replied. I could sense that he was smiling. It was the way his breath felt different on my neck, the way his hands relaxed without actually moving. He let go of me, and we started to clear the table. Such an ordinary thing, and yet it felt so exceptional, with him tracking my every step from the living room and back. Finally, we sat back on the couch, embraced in each other's arms, not saying a word, and being perfectly content. I was stroking his hair, enjoying the moment that still didn't fit well with the rest in my brain, but I didn't care at all right now. We had been sitting like that for almost an hour, when Matt pulled himself up. "I...I want to show you something," he said, looking almost shyly at me. I brushed away a strand of his hair that was obscuring his vision. Our eyes locked for a moment as I was gently caressing his cheek. Again, there was some hesitation, but for some reason it didn't appear as bothersome as the ones from several days ago. I kissed him softly, just as an encouragement, and nodded. He stood up, pulling me on my feet as well, still not letting his eyes leave mine. Then, he went to the corner of the room, and picked up his drawing block, which was lying on the floor, next to his bed. He came back to me, seeming hesitant once more. It was visible in the way he almost reluctantly held his drawing block in his hand. I hugged him again: "If you are not ready for it, it can wait," I said, simply. He looked at me. His eyes went through a kaleidoscope of emotions, anxiety and uncertainty at first, which soon got replaced with confidence and determination. "No...I want you to see this," he said, placing the drawing block on the table. "This was my way of...expressing myself...and my feelings," he continued in a deeper tone of voice, as if it was choked by emotions. He opened the drawing block at the last page. I gasped with surprise. It was a drawing of me, perfectly capturing my face as I was gazing somewhere into the distance. I definitely did not expect this. Even though the drawing was simple, and appeared unfinished, it was unmistakably me. He captured every crucial line of my face with incredible detail. Then he flipped to the previous page. Again, a drawing of me, this time in a different position. I think he draw a picture of me reading. The amount of detail around my eyes was astonishing; he had captured the tension on my face flawlessly. Another page, and another drawing, this time of me sitting down, playing guitar. In that one, my face was hidden, but he concentrated his work on my hands, drawing a perfect anatomy of my fingers and hands, veins and forearm muscles. It was as if someone had taken a black and white photograph of me and printed it in charcoal. His talent was incredible, and I couldn't believe the amount of time and effort that took to make one of these drawings, let alone severa l! of them. "Matt, this is..." I went mute, as he flipped another page. Me at the gym, doing curls. His attention to details on the drawing was hard to believe. Again, the detailed anatomy of the shoulder and arm muscles, while straining to curl the dumbbell. Somehow he even managed to show the sweat that was glistening on my biceps, as well as the tension on my face. Another one, of me being bent over while I was working on something, probably his car. It was almost as if I was looking at a side mirror image of my face, as I was apparently studying the part in my hands with great attention. The last page, the first one in the drawing block. This time he had placed some background behind my image, distinctly showing my living room. I could see the recliner and my guitar in the distance, as he placed a depiction of my torso, leaning against the doorframe in the foreground of the drawing. The feeling of being lightheaded crept in my skull again as I started to slowly shake my head. Staring at me from the drawing block lying open on the kitchen table, was my two-dimensional twin, unmistakably depicting my eyes, which were staring back at me with a piercing gaze. I knew exactly when that had happened as well. It was the night when we watched movies. Matt managed to convey on paper, with an unsophisticated media such as charcoal, the moment of that evening, the feelings that were coursing through my head, the look of hunger that I had in my eyes. I bit my lip. This was not the work of a street artist, drawing portraits to earn his dinner. This was the work of someone who knew the depths of his soul and the soul of his subject. This was the work of someone who was in love. In love...with me. I turned to him, speechless. He was looking away, not daring to look at me. I took his hand, and with other I gently lifted his chin so I could look into his eyes. "You...did this...?" I nodded towards the drawing block. I still had trouble forming words. He nodded back, with tears welling into his eyes. I didn't know what to say, nor could I say anything right then. Instead, I gently held his head as I leaned into him. I could taste the salt of his tears on his lips, as we were holding each other. I still couldn't believe that this gorgeous blue-eyed boy was in my arms, giving himself to me, loving me. My emotions were threatening to choke me as we were kissing. I could feel his hands embracing my back as he was leaning into me, seeking for more. And I was more than happy to oblige. I hugged him, feeling his face on my shoulder, feeling the silkiness of his hair as I was gently caressing his head. We were standing in his living room for a long time, without motion or sound, just embracing, just holding each other. I was feeling nothing but pure, calm happiness. Words were unnecessary. All we got to express was right there, flowing between both of us like a forceful river that both of us were feeling, carrying powerful emotions between us. Finally he moved, turning his head to look at me. My god, those eyes. The impression of the depth of his pupils was even more emphasized with him being so close to me. "You...don't mind it?" he said, looking at me. My tongue was still unable to form any meaningful words: "Mind...?" left the unspoken sentence hang in the air, not knowing where his question was coming from. "Well...its...it seems a bit...stalk-ish," he said, waving his head towards the drawing block, still looking somewhat embarrassed. "No, are you crazy? I love it! I cannot believe that you did that..." words betrayed me, as I just continued to shake my head, looking at the drawing, and then sinking my gaze back into his eyes. This time he shed a sly smile, almost being smug about it. "I was afraid that you might freak about it...I mean, me using you as a subject...for all of the drawings," he smirked. "It feels weird...but I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world," I looked at him seriously, and then planted another kiss on his lips as reassurance. It felt good, and more than just good. It felt perfect, as if something that I was meant to do for a very long time. It felt weird and wonderful, but yet again, so...right. Matt had relaxed completely in my arms, leaning into me, letting the kiss muffle all the conversation. This felt so good, so perfectly in tune with all of my emotions, with all of my desires. Holding Matt in my arms felt like my purpose in this universe was fulfilled, just as I had finally reached my goal in life, as I had found the missing piece of the puzzle, a hole in my soul that had stayed gaping open for a very long time. (Matt's point of view) If I'd known that this much happiness was possible before, I would never have said that I had ever been happy in my life. Compared to what I had experienced over the last day or so, everything else faded away into average. I felt as though I was going to jump out of my skin and shout out of top of my lungs. Hayden...kissed me! A boy...the man of my dreams - kissed me. And my world turned upside down, and inside out, in a matter of moments. When he left my apartment that evening, I still could not comprehend what had happened. All I knew was that the gaping hole that I used to feel singeing my chest from the inside was gone now, replaced with a wonderful feeling of warmth, happiness, and jovial bliss that was filling my whole body with tenderness that was radiating through me. And I could breathe normally again. I inhaled deeply, savoring the indescribable feeling that was completely new to me. It felt as if every pore in my body was open, allowing air to flow freely into every corner of my being. Laying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, I was trying to recollect all the events from today, but my mind was stuck in the loop. All I could remember was the sensations of Nicki's lips on mine. Everything else was lost in the foggy background of that one sensation. Hayden's lips on mine. Hayden kissing me. With the stupidest of all grins on my face, I touched my mouth. I still couldn't believe it, despite all the memories and the slight puffiness of my lips. I looked around my seemingly deserted apartment. Hayden had left not even half an hour ago, and the place looked so hollow without his presence. I sighed. I didn't want him to leave, but he had to. We were sitting on the couch, completely relaxed in each other arms, enjoying each other's presence when his cell phone started to ring. It was his mentor, inquiring about some lab work. Despite Hayden's efforts to try to explain some complicated procedure over the phone, his mentor was clearly requesting his presence. Hayden hung up the phone, biting his lip. He was reluctant to leave, I could clearly see that. He was sitting up, with his hands between his legs, clasping his cell phone, looking as tense as a tight string. He looked up at me, with a mixture of feelings seething in his eyes. I could see that he was reluctant to leave, that he wanted to stay with me, but more than everything else, I could see that in his dark eyes there was a bothersome presence of worry. And I knew w! hy. He was concerned about leaving me alone. I reached up to his face and gently brushed his cheek with my fingers, in a reassuring motion: "I'll be fine. Just go. This is important," I told him. He smiled faintly, still not relaxing. "Nicki, I'll be fine. If you want, I can come with you, and sit in the car until you are done," I continued. He looked at me. Those dark eyes still had that bothersome presence in them. I couldn't stand that look, and I knew why I felt so guilty. He had that look because of all the things that I had done, all the stupid ideas that I had considered recently and almost turned into reality. I felt obligated to erase that worry from those eyes forever. I grabbed his face gently with both of my hands, and looked straight into his eyes: "I promise I won't do anything stupid...there are too many things that I don't want to miss now, for anything in the world, to consider doing something stupid," I finished, locking my eyes on his. He nodded slowly, and then there was a change in his eyes. They were still casting glances full of worry and apprehension, but without the previous intensity that had been burning holes through me. He ran his hand through my hair, and than smiled. "Okay." That was it. The look was gone, the tension had vanished. He stood up and pulled me up on my feet as well: "I'm going to my place and take a shower, and then I'll go to the lab to finish with that stupid research analysis. And then...I'll be back," he said, placing his hands around my waist and looking at me seriously. I nodded, suddenly at a loss of words. My previous sentence surprised even me, with the courage and the level of bravery that even I didn't know that I had in me, and now I couldn't even muster the words to say that I agreed with him. Hayden planted another deep, long kiss on my lips and then he left. I sat heavily back on the couch, holding my fingertips over my mouth, still feeling the pressure of his lips on mine, and his feverish gaze upon me before he turned around and closed the door behind him. (Hayden's view) "Are you sure that you are okay?" I heard the voice of my mentor. I snapped my head toward him. He must have noticed that I was not even looking at the computer monitor anymore. I was supposed to input some data from my undergrad research into certain files, but I couldn't bear to stare at the monitor anymore. The buzzing and the vertigo in my head were just getting worse. Ever since I had left Matt's place, I'd been feeling more and more light-headed. After a quick shower at my place I had felt better, just tired. Now the feeling of lightheadedness was back. The fluorescent light in our lab wasn't making things any better, either. I was feeling as though someone was constantly rocking the whole building in slow, deliberate motions. "Why don't you go home, and we can finish some other time," my mentor suggested. I nodded, and slowly got up. It was my idea to work on our project during the break, when the lab was mostly empty, and now I couldn't even look at the computer screen without getting nauseated. "I'll email you the spreadsheets," I mumbled, walking past him, suppressing the onset of another fit of coughing. He nodded, preoccupied with what looked like a game of Tetris. I wasn't in the mood to give him grief about that, so I left. Driving back home was even worse. It was already night, and I had to pull over several times to let my stomach settle. And, despite the heat being turned on at maximum, I was cold. Somehow I managed to get back home. Without even turning the lights on, I got into my living room and collapsed on the couch. Shivering, I drifted into a distressed dream while the room was spinning around me. (Matt's point of view) "Okay, Nicki, where are you?" for the tenth time I looked out the window to the empty street. Time really drags on when you are waiting for someone. It was already dark, and there was no sign of his white Golf. I was impatiently fiddling with my cell phone, struggling against the desire to call him. If he was busy working on his project, he wouldn't appreciate me calling him. But, on the other hand, it had been too long now. It was past eight when I decided to call him. And, again, half an hour later, with same result. He wasn't answering his phone. At nine I was in front of his house, looking at the un-expected sight. His car was there! I was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, not knowing how exactly to figure out what that meant. I shook my head and proceeded to the front door. Despite the light being on in the kitchen, the house seemed deserted. Just like that night when I saw him playing his guitar...and drinking. With a knot in my throat, I knocked on the front door. Not hearing anything, I turned the knob. It was not locked, and I stepped into the foyer. "Nicki?" I called out, tentatively. There was no answer, and I walked in, starting to feel that I shouldn't be doing this. In a way, I was trespassing. This was not my house, and it seemed that Hayden was not here. Had he taken his other car to school? I peeked into the kitchen. It was empty. Just like the kitchen, the whole house emanated the feeling of emptiness and cold. A sigh coming from the living room startled me so much that I almost jumped. I sped up to the couch - Nicki was there, still in his jacket. I knelt next to him, questions burning through my head. Why hadn't he come back to my place? Why hadn't he called? Was he avoiding me? Had I imagined all the events of last night and this morning? I reached out and gently touched his shoulder. He woke up startled, and grabbed my hand, locking his eyes on me. Even in the darkened room, I could see his feverish gaze on me, a look that had nothing to do with the one he had for me when he had left my apartment this afternoon. "Matt," he whispered, and then his eyes closed again. "Nicki...what's wrong?" I asked, worryingly. Was he drunk? I looked around the living room, but I couldn't see any visible signs of alcohol. "What are you doing here? Go away," he mumbled, letting go of my hand. I shook my head, in disbelief. I couldn't believe what he said. To go...away? But... I placed my hand on his shoulder again, disregarding what I had just heard. "You shouldn't be here...please leave." He whispered in a coarse voice, not even opening his eyes. "What? But..." "Leave. You cannot be here. Please go away." He mumbled, turning his head away from me and covering his eyes. "Nicki..." I started again, but he interrupted me, almost yelling at me: "Didn't you hear me?...LEAVE! Leave..." He continued in a coarse whisper: "Please leave..." I closed my eyes firmly, trying to prevent tears from forming. The feeling of that ice-cold claw gripping my chest was back, shortening my breath. No, I must have misheard his words. There was no way that Hayden...my Hayden ...would say something like that. I let go of his shoulder, already losing the fight with my emotions. My Hayden ...Nicki...didn't want me near him anymore? I couldn't bear that. I stood up in silence, looking at him. He had his hand folded over his eyes, so I couldn't even look at his face. My blood was humming through my ears as questions were flying through my mind: "This cannot be happening! Is this just some sick joke? Does he have an evil twin, who is just tormenting me? Which Hayden is laying before me now?" I started to back off from the couch, shaking my head. I simply couldn't believe what he had said to me. It was just too hurtful, too mean for me to comprehend that Hayden would be capable of saying something like that. Hayden, who was always the epitome of empathy? It just didn't make any sense. Still backing away from the couch, I knocked over the small table where the house phone was sitting on. I looked down at the mess, and seeing a notebook on the floor, I grabbed it. I quickly jotted down a short message but, not even ten seconds later, with my eyes tearing up, I tore the page with my note out of the notebook and stuffed it in my pocket. Hayden didn't care for me. That was the message that I got from him, not even a minute ago. I wiped my eyes and looked over to the couch. Uncertainty was still coursing through me. Why? Why was he so physical with me this morning only to give me the coldest of all shoulders right now? Why? Courtney...was she coming over? Is that the reason why is he chasing me from his house? Or some other girl? Or... A thought clasped my heart like an iron claw. It couldn't be. What if...he was just putting an act last night...to prevent me from...from finishing what I started last night? I inhaled unconsciously in surprise at my revelation. No, it couldn't be... It just can't be... nobody can pretend that well...nobody would...Nicki would never do something like that to me. Or... I ran outside. I needed air and, at the same time, I couldn't breathe. I had to sit down on the porch stairs, heaving for air. Would Nicki put on such a performance... to save a life? To pull me away from the edge? Knowing him, and his determination, I could imagine him doing something like that. But, then again... How well did I actually know him? I looked into the darkness above the houses, feeling that my lungs were still lacking air. In a way, it made perfect sense. But on the other hand... I couldn't associate the tender touch, the gentle hold, the fiery kisses that he gave to me, and the passion that I had felt when I was with him. Things were just not connecting in my head. It was as if there were two Hayden, twins who had completely separate lives from each other. I was so immersed in my thought that the ringing of my phone almost made me jump. Without even looking to see who it was, I answered it. "Matty, where the hell are you? Your dad and I have been expecting you here since yesterday! Don't tell me that you are driving here instead of flying," I got an earful from my mother even before I collected my thoughts enough to recognize who it was at all. My brain was still floating in the limbo of the recent events. It took me almost half a minute to collect my bearings to answer to her. "Mom...what are you talking about?" I managed to push through my constricted throat. "Aren't you coming home for Christmas?" she asked, genuinely surprised. "No...I'm still here," I replied, desperately trying to collect myself. "What? Last time we talked you were telling me how much you love us all and that hopefully we'll see each other soon, and now you are telling me that you are not coming? What is going on there?" I bit my lip, trying to suppress tears. Those were my words, and I had meant every single one of them... but in a different context. I had said all that not even an hour before I went to Hayden's house, and they had a completely different meaning back then. Now, they were a burden that needed explanation or... "Matty? Son, is everything all right?" The totally different tone in my mother's voice finally pushed the tip of my emotional scale. I needed someone for support, I needed my family. I felt horridly lonely here, hundreds of miles away from home, with nobody to understand me. "No...I'm coming back home," I croaked. (Hayden's point of view) "Well, Mr. Faulkner, that is some nasty pneumonia you got there," said our school physician after listening to my chest. I had a hard time suppressing the coughing while he was listening. "And you are running quite a fever as well. Since we don't have a radiology suite here, I'm going to refer you to get some x-rays done at the hospital. In the mean time, I'll write you a prescription for the antibiotics and cough medicine. Get some rest, take the meds and I'll see you in two days. Is Friday at nine good for you?" I slumped back on my feet from the exam table. I was still feeling queasy and weak. "Two days? You probably meant Thursday then," I replied after thinking for a while. "No, I meant Friday. We are closed on Thursday. Today is Wednesday, Mr. Faulkner," the doctor said, looking at me over the brim of his glasses. I was still looking at him. "He is wrong," I thought to myself; "I was at the lab yesterday-Monday, working on that project." He must have seen me staring blankly at him, so he grabbed the newspapers from his desk and tossed them onto the exam table for me to see the date below the headlines. It was indeed Wednesday, the 24th. Crap - I had spaced out an entire day, and I hadn't even noticed id. How did that happen? I walked out of the office, still confused. Soon I joined Scott, who had given me a ride here. "You are not going to die on me, are you?" he asked, with a quizzical look on his face. I shook my head. I still couldn't talk very well; and my chest hurt like hell just to breathe. Everything started this morning when I woke up, at the crack of dawn, coughing and in pain. And I knew I was running a fever as well; I was sweaty and cold at the same time, with shivers coming from deep within. I couldn't get warm at all, despite the hot shower that I took, feeling pain going through my chest with every move I made. It hurt even to breathe. I remembered vaguely drifting in and out of sleep through the night, searching for a blanket. And I was still feeling very exhausted and weak. I tried to call Matt, but he was not answering. After several attempts, I gave up. I couldn't think straight enough to figure out where he was, or why he was not answering my phone call. I felt like I was swimming in a dazed fog. After realizing that I was in no shape to drive, I called Scott. At first, he couldn't recognize my voice, being so coarse and screechy. He took me to a doctor, and now we were driving back to my place. But it was still bothering me that Matt was not respo n! ding to any of my phone calls. We were almost back at my house when I told Scott to take me to Matt's place. He was grumbling and complaining, something about not being my chauffeur, but I ignored his grouchiness. Scott owed me more than just a ride, plus he was always complaining about something anyways. I was being more worried about Matt and the fact that I had left him alone. Alone. Shit. All of a sudden, a sense of urgency came upon me, swarming me with the need to be at his place as soon as possible. Scott had barely stopped the car when I opened the door and stumbled out, coughing as I ran clumsily up the stairs to Matt's apartment. I rang the doorbell, and knocked several times with no answer. "Can I help you?" I heard a voice behind me, from the bottom of the stairs. I turned around, seeing an older woman, holding the mail in one hand and keys in other. "I'm looking for Matt, ma'am...do you know where he is?" I asked, trying to be polite over the urge to break-in into what appeared to be part of her house. "Why, he went home. Took his car and all -" -she tried to explain, but I interrupted her, hastily: "Do you know when he will be back?" I asked, descending the stairs. "Young man, I am not sure that he will be back. He said something about not coming back to school here," she finished, looking displeased with my interruption. I shook my head in disbelief: " -Why he would... he cannot leave... we are..." I started to cough, and couldn't stop for a while. She waited patiently for me, then she continued: "He left, dear. I believe he wanted to be home for Christmas, that sounds right to me." "Did he leave an address, or a note...for me?" I asked. I started to have this feeling that my heart was rapidly sinking. "All I have is his home phone number; he gave it to me when he first moved in. And you are...?" she looked at me sternly. I realized that I was being rude and too abrupt in my inquiries. "Hayden... Faulkner...I'm one his friends from school," I introduced myself between fits of coughing. She relaxed a bit, and we started to talk. I was hiding my impatience well, but a couple of minutes later I had to remind her about my question. She disappeared into the house and came back a minute later, with Matt's home number, written in his neat handwriting on a piece of paper. I thanked her, and returned to Scott, who was waiting for me in the car. Ignoring the puzzled look on his face, I told him to take me home. I needed to call Matt, as soon as I could get some privacy. Scott was attempting to be servile when we got back to my place. I was trying to hide my impatience as much as I could, as he was pulling my medications from the pharmacy bag and placing it all on the kitchen counter. "Really, man...you look like crap," he continued, moving the small notebook that was in his way from the counter, making space for the various pill bottles and the bottle of cough syrup. I was watching him mechanically, not even listening to him. Matt was...gone? That didn't make any sense. I was biting my chaffed lip, not finding any answers. "I hope that it isn't contagious, whatever you have," Scott went on, waving with the notebook in my direction. Something was odd about that image, about that notebook. I jumped on my feet and grabbed the notebook from his hand. "Where did you find this?" I asked him abruptly. "Here on the counter... what is your problem? You need to relax and take your meds," he grumbled, going into the kitchen. I wasn't listening to him. I turned around, looking at the spot where that notebook was supposed to be - underneath the house phone, acting as a silencer for its ringer. It was there ever since I had moved in, and realized how loud the house phone was. The notebook was the perfect size, muffling the phone's obnoxious ringer to a tolerable level. And now it was sitting on the kitchen counter? I opened it up. The first page was torn out, with barely visible traces of pen imprinted on the rest of the pages. I never used this notebook for anything, and now there were obvious traces of someone's writing in it. I went to the work desk and grabbed a pencil. I started tracing the pencil over the paper with very light pressure, just enough to shade the imprinted page of the notebook. The letters started to appear in the grooves of the paper. Letters, unmistakably written in Matt's stylish handwriting. My hands began to shake. "Scott." I called coarsely. He showed his head from the kitchen, chewing on something: "What?" he mumbled, his mouth full. "I need you to drive me to the airport," I said to him. (Matt's point of view) My dad picked me up from the airport. Apparently he volunteered for it, so that my mom could stay home. I knew that he wasn't too keen on mom's always-over-the-top preparations for Christmas, so I guess this was a pleasant getaway for him. I put on my best fake smile when he hugged me, and then we got into the car and drove home. He was curious about all my experiences at school, but I was not in the mood for talking. He maintained the conversation on our way home, with me barely saying anything. I guess that he didn't notice that I was more in the mood to listen to the music that was playing on the car stereo. My dad was in the middle of the story about one of our neighbors and his new big screen TV, when I realized that I was actively listening to the lyrics of the song that was playing on the car CD, instead of paying attention to his story. I didn't catch the very beginning of the song, but the lyrics grabbed my attention, fading my dad's voice in the background. It was u n! unfamiliar female singer, singing slowly with the piano in the background: "... I do not want to be afraid I do not want to die inside just to breathe in I'm tired of feeling so numb Relief exists I find it when I am cut-" "Are you listening to me at all?" I heard my dad's voice. Without even looking at him, I pointed towards car's stereo: "Who sings this?" He paused for a second to grab the cd case from the door pocket: "Its your mother's CD... "Plumb". She left it there last time we went out. You listen to them?" He asked me, not taking his eyes off the road. I didn't answer him. Something in the singer's voice struck a cord in me, especially when she started to sing again: "...I may seem crazy Or painfully shy And these scars wouldn't be so hidden If you would just look me in the eye I feel alone here and cold here Though I don't want to die But the only anesthetic that makes me feel anything kills inside I do not want to be afraid I do not want to die inside just to breathe in I'm tired of feeling so numb Relief exists I find it when I am cut -" I shut off the car stereo, with an almost violent motion of my hand. My dad shot me a surprised look, but now I was looking through the window, my eyes avoiding contact with him. I knew why I had reacted like that. The song reminded me how fragile I was right now, and how little it would take for me to lose it completely. And I couldn't do that. Not in front of my father. We arrived home shortly after that, him still trying to keep the conversation flowing . He parked the car in front of our house, and we got in. I welcomed the feeling of home, the coziness and familiarity of every nook and cranny. In my absence, my parents had decorated the house as usual for Christmas; there was even a tree in the living room. I looked at it and smiled. The feeling of relaxation flushed over me, washing away the anxiety and troubled thoughts that were hanging above me like a dark cloud. It was Christmas, I was back home, and everything was going to be fine. I looked around. Everything was exactly how it was when I had left, which was perfect for my distressed mind. "I don't need changes right now. I need stability," I thought to myself. And my home was the same as always, a rock in the storm. And it smelled good, too. Mom was cooking - and it permeated the whole house with an aroma of baked goods. She entered the living room and gave me the warmest of the hu g! s - God, it was good to be back! After I settled in, we sat down around the table for a home-cooked dinner, my first in a long time. But even though everything looked good and smelled even better, I could barely eat any of the morsels of food on my plate. I tried desperately to pretend that I was eating and paying attention to my parents' conversation, even though I felt as if in daze. Luckily, we soon finished dinner and cleared the table. My parents wanted to go out, but I was not in the mood to do anything. They were pretty surprised that I didn't even want to call Mary, but they attributed that to my tiredness from the trip. They went to the movies, and I went upstairs. My room was the same as I hadt it, almost six months ago. I barely unpacked my bag; I hadn't even bothered to turn my cell phone back on since I had got off the plane. I wasn't in the mood to do anything, so I just lay on my bed, looking at the ceiling. I was back at home, where everything was in order, far away from all the frenzy of the previous semester. Far away from the madness, the parties, the lack of sleep and stressing over the exams. It seemed so far away now, almost like a dream. But what I was feeling inside was reassuring me that at least one part of all that was real, and it still held a firm grip in my chest. Hayden. I clenched my jaw. Even after traveling all this distance, even after settling in back in my home, where everything was in place and in order, my chest was still feeling cramped and desolate at the same time. I still didn't know what to think about the whole thing that had happened not even two days ago. I felt confused, left without any answers to my enigma, or any logical answer that would give me an idea what had actually happened. Hayden kissed me. And, the very next day, he chased me away, being almost coldhearted and insensitive about it. I tightened my fists. I wasn't bitter, or angry. I was actually surprised by the lack of any emotions that thought I was supposed to feel. Should I be angry? Hurt? Resentful? Any of those would be suitable but, instead, I was just feeling drained and empty inside. I just didn't understand, and I was perplexed by the whole situation, which seemed more and more bizarre as time went by. However, the seeming lack of emotions allowed me to think and to place everything in order, with nothing but cold, hard logic in mind. Hayden had done something that not a lot of guys would do. Whatever his motive was, he had crossed that bridge. That probably scared him, and possibly he was afraid that I would out him as being gay to his friends. So he probably decided to cut even the smallest of possibilities of that happening, and that meant to cut me from his life. I sighed: "It just wasn't meant to be, Matthew. Deal with it. The sooner you get over it, the sooner you will get on with your life." I rolled onto my side, pulling the comforter over me. "At least I know that I probably won't be going back to school, at least not to the same one," I thought, drifting into sleep. The next morning I woke up late, finding my parents already gone. Knowing my mom, she dragged my dad to do some last-minute shopping, which he hated, but complied with every year. I strolled into the kitchen, where I found the platter that my mom had made for me from last night's leftovers. I still wasn't hungry, but I took a bite. "Get over it," I though to myself, making myself eat. As I was munching on the tasty sandwich, I heard the doorbell. Still chewing on the last morsel of food, I opened the door. "Well, look who decided to come back and not even to bother to tell his best friend that he was here," Mary scolded me, before she even came in. I hugged her, and let her in. She settled in, as I was making another sandwich for her, and trying to figure out thee brand-new coffee maker that my parents had got while I was gone. After several attempts, I got it going, and then I turned to Mary, who was sitting on the other side of kitchen counter. "Well?" she asked. "Well what?" "How does it feel to be back at home, after being away for so long?" she continued. I sensed that there was more that she wanted to ask me, but I decided to play along. "Oh, it's actually quite relaxing. Just the fact that everything is exactly how I left it is...priceless," I placed a couple of mugs on the counter. "Are you going back?" she asked in very level tone of voice. I looked at her in a surprise: "Why are you asking that?" She shifted the coffee mug from one place of the counter to another, for no apparent reason: "Well, when I talked to you a couple of days ago, you were talking about everything but school, which is odd for a college student. Then I ran into your parents last night at the bar, of all places. Your mom told me that you look horrible and depressed, that you barely eat or speak. That doesn't sounds like a happy college student, coming back home for Christmas. So... are you going to tell me what is going on or not?" she asked, this time leaving no space for any rebellious defensive move from my side. I just looked at her: "Crap, and I thought that I was doing a pretty good job hiding of my good mood," I snarled sarcastically. I was really pissed that my parents had noticed that something was wrong, and the thought that they had sent Mary here to dig out the truth from me was almost humiliating. Why couldn't everybody just leave me alone? "Nope," she said, pouring milk in her mug. For a good couple of minutes there was a heavy silence in the kitchen. I was just looking at my coffee, not even knowing what to say or where to begin. "Listen, if you don't want to talk about it, its fine. I'm just hoping it's related to actual school, and not to..." she didn't even have to finish. I twitched as if she had physically stabbed me with an ice pick. "Not to what?" I looked at her defiantly. All of a sudden, emotions started to rush in me. For some reason, I felt the need to be defensive, protective about my emotions. Mary looked at me, and than she sighed: "I was afraid that this might happen...you were just not ready. Dealing with school and the emotional rollercoaster with Hayden was too much for you. I tried to warn you, but something like that is hard to avoid. I'm sorry, kiddo." I swallowed the lump in my throat. "It's not that bad...It's not as if I have a broken heart...it's just that this is something that I'm not used to going through, and I need some time off," I finished, still looking at my cup. Even to myself that sounded hollow and untruthful. "Did you tell him?" I nodded my head:" Yeah...and I kind of made a scene. I totally lost it, one night at his place. I told him in the worst way possible, screaming at him because I was so upset." "Wow...was he okay with it? How did he take it?" "I don't know. That is the thing - I don't know. I thought that I knew him, at least for that much, but he..." I paused, looking for words that were not coming to me. Emotions were swirling in my head, making it difficult to concentrate. "He doesn't fit in normal files. He is very...different, complex, and intelligent, so it is hard for me to figure him out. I don't know where I am with him at this time," I finished, finally looking at her. "And you still...have feelings for him?" I looked at her. The storm of emotions in my head suddenly stopped, crystallizing into a single thought, in a moment of clarity: "Yes. More than ever." (Hayden's point of view) "I'm sorry, sir, but there are no seats on any of the flights leaving to Kansas. The first available seat will be on the flight leaving on Friday afternoon," the girl at the ticket counter informed me. I sighed. I had flown into Missouri, with no way to get out of there for at least a day or so. All the flights were booked - it was Christmas and everybody wanted to go home. I looked around in desperation; I was not about to give up, but there was not much I could do at this moment. I glanced down the airport lobby and smiled: there was a rent-a-car counter at the far end of the row of airport mall stores. Half an hour later, I tossed my bag in the back seat of the gray Impala and got behind the wheel. "I might be driving all night, but at least I'm making some progress," I thought to myself, starting the engine. On the seat next to me there was a box from the sports store in which I had stopped while waiting for my rental car. I smiled to myself, caressing the firm edge of the box while negotiating the heavy traffic that was leaving the airport. Soon, I was on the highway, speeding into the night. (Matt's point of view) Mary and I had talked almost all day yesterday. When my parents came back home, we took off, and basically walked around town, sight seeing and just people watching. I still had to do all of my Christmas shopping, so I dragged Mary with me to get something for my parents and other family. Finally, we sat down in one of the local coffee shops and got some food with our coffee, just resting and talking for a while. Despite the fact that everything looked the same in my town, I didn't feel the same. I felt grown up, and older. It was a bit like finding your favorite toy, after years of being lost. It felt as if I needed to shake off my childhood, and start being a grown up. I sighed. Suddenly I felt really old and tired. Mary smiled at me: "Well, we need to get you back home; your mom is probably expecting you to be on time for Christmas dinner." "Wow, I completely forgot about that! We need to go - fast," I ushered her from her seat as I paid for our coffee, and we sped back to my place. Mary stayed with us for dinner. We had a good time, and after we were done, I joined my mom and Mary in the kitchen, where they were stowing the leftovers. My dad showed up to get some coffee, and for a moment the kitchen was filled with people. I leaned against the counter, listening to everybody chat about nothing in particular. My dad was complaining about shopping with mom and how long it took to get to each and every store. Mom just rolled her eyes, handing him his coffee. It was the usual joyful Christmas evening, but there was a sense of tension in the air, hanging like a thin veil. And I knew what it was. I decided that it was not fair to my parents to keep them in the dark anymore. I cleared my throat, and in that second everything in the kitchen went quiet, and everybody looked at me. I realized that they were all expecting this moment, from the moment my dad picked me up. I looked up to them. I knew I had to tell them everything; they were my parents and they neede d! to know about what had been going on with me. They took it well. I wasn't disclosing too many details; my mom already knew about my friendship with Hayden, although the revelation of my feelings to him was a surprise to her. Both of my parents were understanding, but both of them were also very adamant that I should stay in school. At that point I didn't want to argue with them, so I let that go by. The situation with Hayden was messed up enough as it was, and even presenting the very basic version took a lot of energy out of me. Some time later, I joined my dad in the living room, leaving my mom and Mary to chat in the kitchen. He was watching some old comedy reruns, which we all had seen a million times. I sat down on the couch where he was sitting and sipping his coffee. We were just watching TV for a while, when he broke the silence: "Matt, I know it is very hard for you to go through your life since it is more difficult than for the rest of your friends. And I knew that going so far away from home would not be easy on you, and that things may not be turn out the way you expected. Your mother and I decided that it would be a good experience for you to go and try. I still think that you'll be better off going to school here; I don't think you made a mistake, and I still think that you should try to finish it where you started it. And as far as your relationship...," he paused briefly, taking another sip from his mug- "- things like that will always come up during your life. Obstacles and problems are part of life, and you have to make it work, along with everything else. It seems like this Hayden is a really good guy, and I think that you should try to maintain your friendship with him, but if it's going to be that difficult for you to concentrate on important stuff then maybe it will be better for you to c! ome back home." I nodded, not saying anything. This was one of those rare "Father-son speeches", and I was feeling the heaviness of it. But he continued, in a much lighter tone: "So, is he good looking? Did you find any other hot...um, guys over there? Any leads?" I had to shake my head and smile at his antics. He was trying so hard! "No, dad...he was the only one that messed up my life," I chuckled, and he smiled back. The tension in the room was disappearing rapidly as I heard someone else walk in the living room. "Do you have a picture of him?" I heard Mary's voice behind me. "Yeah, Matt, can we at least see what the guy who 'messed up your life' looks like?" my dad chimed in, mocking me a bit. My mom joined us, wiping her hands with a towel, looking with anticipation at me just as the rest of them. "I - I don't...I don't have any pictures of him," I answered, embarrassed. My eyes were darting from Mary to my parents and back. That simple question really threw me off guard. "What! All this time! Almost five months you were there, and you couldn't take one picture of him, even with a cell phone? I don't believe that," Mary shook her head in disbelief. My mom joined in, with a fake expression of disapproval on her face. My dad was already flipping through the channels with a remote; at least he was not going to partake in this game. But Mary didn't want me to get off the hook that easily. She grabbed a piece of paper from the printer and came back, placing a pencil, the paper, and a large book in my lap to serve as a drawing board. I looked back at her, discontented. "Come on...like a good boy," she ushered me, in a very mid-school teacher-like voice, pointing towards the blank paper. I glanced over to my mom, looking for help, but she was clearly on Mary's side in this case. I sighed in resignation, and started to draw. Minutes passed by without me even noticing. I felt as if fallen into a daze, pulling an image of Hayden from my brain, one of the hundreds that were burned into my mind. My surroundings faded away, the drone of the TV, the conversation between my mom and Mary - everything was pushed somewhere in the background, becoming nothing more than white noise. The pencil was almost completely dull when I finished with some final shading, lifting my head and discovering that now I had some serious pain in my neck from being craned for so long. I looked at the drawing for a very long time, and sighed with a very long, deep, breath. Every time I finished one of my drawings I felt a sense of completion but, when it came to drawings of Hayden, I felt something more than that. There was a feeling as if a part of him was present, almost as though he was there with me. It was a shadowy, non-descriptive feeling, similar to the one when I came back into my dorm room filled with the smell of his c! ologne, emanating from his jacket. A vague feeling of closeness to him, without him being actually there. "Wow," I heard a whisper behind my back. It startled me, as I had fallen almost into a trance. I looked behind me. My mom joined Mary as she was looking over my shoulder at the drawing. "He is a handsome one," my mom agreed, looking carefully. Mary nodded in approval, and then asked me to show my drawing to my dad. He just shrugged his shoulder; to him, it was just a picture of a guy. Unfazed, he continued to watch TV. The rest of the night went by uneventfully. Mary left around nine, and I stayed and continued to watch TV with my parents for the next hour or so, when I started to feel tired and sleepy. I bid my parents good night and went upstairs to my room, carrying my drawing with me, acting almost protective about it. I knew that my parents wouldn't do anything with it, far from that; I just wanted it with me in my room. Upstairs it was cold, so I changed quickly. Shivering, I got into my bed, leaving the reading lamp on for a while. From my bed I could see the drawing, laying on the nightstand underneath the lamp. I stared at it for a long time. Then, somewhere deep within me, something broke. Now that I had told my parents, I felt that I could finally relax and let my emotions take over. Something inside me clawed its way out, and I couldn't hold it anymore. Tears started to roll down my face, feeling almost as if they were burning their traces down my cheeks on their path from my closed eyes. (Hayden's point of view) "Damn it, Hayden, concentrate!" I yelled at myself after almost plowing into a snow bank on the side of the road. It was very late, and I had been fighting off sleep for the last couple of hours. Driving was even more difficult with the snow falling in thick, heavy flakes. The highway had already been cleared once, but new snow already covered the pavement, making it difficult to see clearly the edges of the road. I was torn between my desire to get there as fast as possible, and resting. Another onset of drowsiness made me decide to pull over in the nearest rest stop and take a break. Sometimes an hour of sleep means a lot, even though I really wanted to be done with driving by morning. I glanced at the map that I bought from the previous gas station: more than two hundred miles to go. I sighed, resisting the temptation to get back on the road. The road conditions were already pretty dangerous, and I didn't need to push my luck any further by battling fatigue. I gathered my j! acket from the back seat and shut the engine off. Falling asleep, I smiled, thinking about the conversation that I had had with Scott before leaving: "You must be out of your mind," he was shaking his head, pulling my bag from the back seat of his car, "You are barely in any condition to stand, and yet you want to fly? Lunacy, if you ask me," he was shaking his head in disbelief. "Yeah, yeah, I know. But that's why I have you to help me out," I interrupted his litany. "Just go online when you get back home and find what I asked you, okay?" "Okay," he mumbled, still looking at me as if I had gone mad. "Thanks, buddy, I owe you one," I hugged him and then I went into the airport terminal. Indeed, when I called him back several hours later, he had all the information that I needed. I jotted it all down while driving, not finding a better place than the lid of the box that I had got from the sports store. Now my note, scribbled on the inside of the cardboard lid, was my only lead to try to fix the very wrong thing that I had done. "If I can fix it at all," I thought to myself, half-heartedly. My cell phone woke me up a couple of hours later. I shut the alarm, and looked around. It was cold, my breath was forming vapor inside the car. And the car itself was covered with snow as well. I started the engine, and then I got out to clear the windows and to stretch a bit. It was very early in the morning, and it was still very dark. I got back in and carefully got back on the highway. It had stopped snowing, but there was a blanket of snow on the road, requiring careful driving. I took a sip of the cold coffee that was still sitting in the paper cup from the previous night, resisting the voice in my head that was urging me to drive faster. Several hours later, when daylight was attempting to break some light through the thick clouds, I entered the town, snowed in just as rest of the countryside. I followed the instructions that Scott gave me over the phone. Half of the street signs were plastered with snow, making it impossible to read, but, after a couple of wrong turns, I managed to find the right street, and now I was inching away along the row of sleepy houses covered with snow. It was Christmas morning, and it was still too early to expect that anybody would be out. I was driving slowly, counting houses and numbers until I found the one I was looking for. I stopped the car in front of a nice two-story home. All of a sudden, I felt really nervous. This was the end of my quest, hopefully. However, that did not mean that the problem was solved. I inhaled deeply: "Well, this is it, Hayden. It's either going to go well, or it's going to be a true disaster." I got out of the car. Either way, I knew I had to do t h! is. I climbed several steps to the front door and rang the bell once, with my heart beating hard in my chest. A couple of minutes passed, and then I heard footsteps. A female voice called behind the door, but I couldn't understand what was said. The door opened, and now I was standing in front of a good-looking woman in her forties, dressed in comfortable but still appealing clothes. This was someone who was always looking presentable, no matter if it was even just as she opened the door to a complete stranger on a very cold Christmas morning. "Yes? How may I help you?" I opened my mouth, but for a second I couldn't say a single word. I had a vague idea of what to say, but the moment she laid her eyes on me, that idea got washed away from my mind. Her eyes. She had Matt's eyes. Now she was looking at me more carefully, almost as though she was recognizing some details on me, just like meeting someone again after decades of being separated. My ability to speak returned, and I managed to utter a sentence, that sounded ridiculous even before I said it out loud: "My...my name is Hayden...I- I would like to speak to Matthew, if he lives here..." my voice died down, in a futile attempt to suppress the coughing that came back to me. The woman was still eyeing me carefully, not saying a word, still holding the front door of the house with one hand. I became painfully aware of my appearance, the fact that I hadn't shaven or showered in more than a day, that my clothes were in a disheveled mess from traveling and sleeping in the car, as well as that my rental car behind me was a filthy mess from the sleet that I had driven through. I bowed my head, trying to suppress another episode of coughing, when I heard some slight shuffling. I looked up. The woman had the house door open fully now, and there was a trace of smile on her face. "Why don't you step inside first, and then we'll see what we can do for you," she said, letting me in. The inside of the house was pleasantly warm, and I welcomed the feeling of coziness in it. The woman gave me another thorough look, and then she turned around and started going up the stairs to the second floor. I was looking after her, seeing something on her that I had seen before. The squared shoulders, straight back and gracious moves that the woman exhibited in her step was very familiar to me. The feeling of anxiety upsurged in me, despite the feeling of accomplishment that I had been experiencing ever since I pulled over in front of her house. She came back down stairs only moments later, with a very neutral expression on her face, and joined me in the hallway, not saying another word. The nervousness in me started to boil, especially when I heard a door upstairs close, and then I heard a shuffling of clothes as a figure appeared at the top of the staircase. (Matt's point of view) " Matthew, someone is here to see you," I heard my mom's gentle voice. I opened my eyes, seeing her looking at me with a very strange expression on her face. First of all, since when I was "Matthew" for her? Secondly, that tension on her face was disturbing enough that I got up only moments after she had left my room. I rubbed my eyes, wondering if this was just an elaborate plot of my parents to get me downstairs to open the presents. Yet still... If Mary was here, she would barge into my room with barely a knock, and my mom would let her in the house without necessity to announce her. Shaking my head, I got out of bed and walked down the corridor towards the stairs. I started to descend down a couple of steps when I stopped dead in my tracks. Suddenly, it became hard to breathe. I blinked, but the mirage was still defiantly there, standing in the hallway next to my mom. I was holding the staircase rail with my hand, not even noticing that I was squeezing it so hard that my fingers were hurting. Hayden was looking at me, not saying a word. There were so many emotions in his eyes that I couldn't bear to look at him. And yet, I couldn't tear my eyes from his. We were both just standing there, with our eyes locked for very, very long time. It seemed as if an eternity had passed when I noticed a tear forming in his eye, making me snap from my daze. As if in a dream, I took a couple of heavy steps down the stairs, not even looking where I was going. At the same time, Hayden moved from the spot where he was standing, and simply flew upstairs to me, embracing me in his arms, his gentle strong arms that I was longing for. In disbelief, I clutched onto him, holding my breath. Hayden...my Nicki...is here? In a moment I had the familiar feeling that everything around me was disappearing and fading away, and that there was nothing around me except Hayden, his arms around me, his strong body pressed tightly next to mine, and his head on my shoulder. My whole body shuddered, and slowly descended onto the stairs, not capable of holding itself anymore from the rush of the emotion that was coursing through me. Hayden kneeled in front of me, still not letting me go, whispering something in my ear. His voice was so muffled and hoarse that I couldn't understand him at first, as he was pulling himself slightly away so he could look at me. He spoke again, and this time I could comprehend what he was saying. "I'm sorry...I am so sorry, Matt..." I couldn't speak either, my emotions were choking me. I felt as though I was melting, dissolving in his arms. This was too much, and I couldn't speak. I couldn't tell him anything at this moment. I could do only one thing, impulsive and without even thinking about it. Our lips met, and I felt the same familiar feeling of every pin that was holding me together being pulled out, as he was kissing me, kissing me again, my Hayden was here and he is kissing me. It took us forever to unlock our lips and to look again at each other. The same worried, unbearably worried look was in his eyes, in those oceans of deep fire that were penetrating into my soul. Still choked with emotions, I couldn't speak, and he was remaining silent as well. I grabbed his head with my arms, locking my eyes into his. The concern in his eyes was not leaving; it was not going away, still singeing me with its intensity. I heard clatter in the kitchen downstairs, making me to glance down, over Hayden's shoulder. My mom had disappeared from the hallway. She was probably in the kitchen, making coffee. I returned my gaze toward Hayden. He understood me, and we both stood up, him still holding me. I gave him one long look and, grabbing his hand, I started to descend the stairs, with him behind me. With my heart choking me with its beats high in my throat, both of us got to the kitchen doorway. Both of my parents were there, and both of them instantly stopped what they were doing. My mom turned around, leaving the coffee pot on the counter so she could face us, while my dad placed the newspapers that he was reading on the kitchen table. In the silence that consumed the kitchen, my voice sounded as if it had pierced the space, sounding unfamiliar and distant even to myself: "Dad...Mom...this is... this is Hayden," I said simply. End of ch 16 As always, the Yahoo Group is always open for criticism and comments - it is there for you to vent about the storyline, long breaks in between the chapters and updates. http://groups.yahoo.com/group/rip_tide/ Take care HF