Date: Tue, 25 Feb 2003 00:12:36 -0500
From: Stabbing Westward Junkie <youarenotyourf_ckingkhakis@hotmail.com>
Subject: Dylan Thomas By The Dying Light - Chapter 6

[ Author's Note: Thanks to Nick for all his kind words and constructive
observations. And again, thanks to the Nifty Staff and also to the people
who regularly write to me after every chapter expressing their thoughts on
them. I thank you for taking the time out of your lives to bolster my
spirits. ;o)  - T ]

	A knock sounds lightly on my door. Looking up from my books, I cast a
dubious, dreading look at the plain surface of it. My hands instantly begin
to perspire and I hold them in my lap as my lips form the words that my
brain demands that I don't say.

	"Come in.."

	The door slowly opens about half a foot, and after half a second, a golden
haired head moves around it. I feel my heart shrink and leave me feeling
seriously ill. But I keep my gaze on the door as Shae steps through. I can't
help but look him over as he closes the door behind him, and as I do, I dig
my fingernails into my thighs deeply, hating myself for falling in love with
him even more as I witness his stance, the way he moves, the clothes he
wears. He finally turns around and regards me with a faint smile, standing
there quietly. His arms lift to fold across his chest, a pose he only
assumes when he is worried about something. Leaning against the wall, calm
blue eyes watch me as I take notice of his shirt, a lace-up dark blue shirt
with wide sleeves that hang elegantly upon the backs of his hands, and his
pants, PVC with glittering silver buckles. I look back to my notes
hurriedly, trying not to stare. Jesus he looks good, I think as I blush at
my paper, trying to remember when the last time it was I saw him dressed up
like this.

	"Hi," he says softly.

	"Hey," I say quietly, not looking up. Lifting my pen again, I start to go
back to my work, not paying obvious attention to him. This isn't out of
malice or juvinile punishment... I just can't look at him. It _hurts_. All I
can see is Jamie, making him catch his breath in between gasps...

	By the tone of his voice, I can tell he is puzzled. "Are you okay?"

	I smile forceably at my paper, glancing up at him quickly. "Yeah." I say,
not offering anything else.

	He is quiet for a while, and then I hear him move across the room to sit on
my bed. I keep writing, my feverish gaze locked on the meaningless words
that I form.

	"I haven't seen you in a week, Miah," he says bluntly, getting straight to
the point. I sigh inwardly, hoping to avoid this.

	"I'm sorry," I hear myself respond. "I've been really busy. Exams coming up
and everything.. I want to make sure I'll know what I need to." Inside I'm
withering slowly, ripping my heart to peices.

	"I'm sure you'll be fine. You always are."

	"Yeah, well. Can't be too sure. I'm not like you."

	He gets up, and I hear him move closer behind me. My pen starts to slip.

	"Have I done something wrong?" he asks slowly.

	I stare at the paper, feeling words boil up inside. They richochet around
inside me like glorfied cannon balls, making me wince with every time they
connect with something vital, like my heart. Yes! I want to scream, yes, you
have! You've done SO many things wrong! You made me fall in love with you,
for a start! You kissed me and then acted like nothing happened! I watched
you get yourself off, thinking I had heard you whisper my name as you came!
You made me think like maybe my dreams could come true... and then I find
you in your room, exchanging spit with Jamie! So YES you've done something
wrong. Now get down on your fucking knees and make it up to me...

	"No," I lie, through clenched teeth, and I stand quickly, knocking my chair
over. I hear him take a step back, and I grab my books, snapping them shut.
Then, as quickly as I can, I leave the room, slamming the door shut behind
me. Grabbing my jacket, I run out of the dorm, heading for the library, away
from his beautiful face, his beautiful voice, his beautiful body, his
beautiful everything. The ugliness of the buildings calms me, erase the
fair, delicate structure of his face from my mind.

*	*	*	*

	"Okay," I whisper, staring at Miah's chair as it teeters on the floor. The
slam of the door still rattles around in my head as I slowly bend to pick up
the chair, setting it on its legs once more. I can feel my hands shaking as
I do, and I stare sightlessly at the things on his desk as I tidy them up,
make space on the table for him when he comes back. But eventually it
becomes too much, and I have to sit, so I sag onto his bed, staring at the
door. I toy with the idea of staying here until he gets back, but the idea
becomes less and less romantic as I look around his room. Everything my gaze
lands on screams his name, reminds me about some peice of him that makes me
flinch and want to start punching the shit out of people. That damn painting
above his bed, that fucking AWFUL picture of he and I at grad, those stupid
books about astrology that he insists on reading for some stupid awful
horrible reason, this stupid awful annoyingly wretched bed that I'm sitting
on...

	"FUCK!" I scream, not caring if it alerts everyone on campus. I scream it
again and again and again until I scream myself hoarse, and I get up,
shaking, needing to hurt something so I can feel the pain myself and lose
myself in it. Why am I so stupid, I ask myself over and over. Why do I have
to be so goddamned crazy over him? It's been YEARS since anything could have
happened, why can't my heart accept that? Why do I do stupid shit like what
I did a couple of weeks ago? Cause this is what this all about, I know it.
Fuck. I thought I could go on, not talk about it... I thought he was going
to let me. I thought he was going to be better than me. But obviously it
hurt him. And I don't blame him. I just wish I'd never done it.... because
now I've obviously lost him to it.

	My gaze wildly travels over things in his room, my rage pushing aside the
little part of me telling me to be careful. Finally my gaze stops on the
picture on his nighttable, and I stare in complete fury at our joined hands,
at my stupid smile and his painful beauty. In this moment of pure fury, I
hate him. I want to grab him and shake the light out of him, I want to punch
that beautiful face into a bloody pulp, to the point of no return. I am
reminded of Fight Club, and then I understand that part of its philosphy
completely. I want to hear him scream at me to stop, and then choke as I
don't... as I keep going and going... until he blacks out from pain... and
then I'd kiss him until he woke up, and while he bleeds, I would go down on
him, I'd pin him there, make him the victim of every fantasy I've ever
wanted to enact out on him. I'd rape him til he understood what he was never
able to understand, until he understood why I used to wake up at night
screaming, why the words he used to whisper in the hopes of comfort were
useless to me... why they never meant anything at all.

	I grab the picture and hold it in shaking hands, watching from a distance
as my tears distort our faces as they fall on the glass covering the
photograph.

	"I love you," I whisper, the frame beginning to crack in my grip. "I hate
you."

	As the frame breaks and the glass starts to splinter, I stare at him
seethingly, almost blacking out from fury and blinding love.

	"I don't want to need you," I whisper, feeling the glass cut into my hands.
I don't want, in the darkest nights, to cry as I jerk off to thoughts of
you, my deepest fantasy and desire taking me completely. Since I was raped,
I don't let my lovers be top. They are always bottom, and I am always top. I
can't let people inside me... the pain and memory is just too much. But
you... when I let myself be myself... when I'm coming.... you're always
there, deep inside me, dominating me completely. And it never hurts... ever.
It feels incredible. You have me tied down, spread like a whore... and
instead of screaming in pain, I'm screaming in delerium, your cock a rod of
sadistic, evil pleasure, and your moans as you come inside me are a drug
that I am never quite free of.

	"I don't want that," I whisper to him, watching the picture start to tear
under the strain. "You can't have me like that... no-one can... I don't know
how you got yourself so deep... but I want you the fuck out..."

	With a yell, I hurtle the picture frame at the wall, and watch in shaking
triumph as it shatters into sharp, glittering peices. I stare at the shards
for a while until the cuts on my hands begin to throb, and I look down at
them. Blood drips onto his carpet, and I stare at it dumbly. And then,
numbed, I turn and leave, closing his door quietly behind me. Walking
stiffly over to my room, I curl up in my bed, clenching my hands so that the
blood doesn't escape.

*	*	*	*

	My hand aches as I pick up my pen again. It's the second pen that I've gone
through, I realize stupidly, feeling exhaustion grab hold of my thoughts and
drag them down, making them monosyllabic and neanderthal. It's twelve thirty
at night, and I've been at the library since seven. I have a pile of about
sixty pages or so sitting beside me, some photocopies, the rest all hand
written notes that I know I don't remember a word of now. The librarian has
been watching me all night, and now she approaches quietly, leaning over the
table to snap my current boook shut. I stare up at her blankly, not
understanding at first who she is, and where she came from. She regards me
with a wry, sympathetic smile and sits down across from me, patting my hand
lightly.

	"Hey Lily," I say in a croak, staring stupidly at her.

	She laughs softly, and glances at her wristwatch. She is young and gentle,
her eyes are like walnut cotton candy, and her face is very pretty. So
pretty that in my half-alive state it hypnotizes me; I am caught in the
auburn highlights of her hair and the honey facets of her mischeivious gaze.
She looks no older than fifteen, but she is older than me, I think, by a few
years.

	"Hey, you," she says, her voice like sweet, innocent perfume. Her smile
refreshes me, and I sigh, leaning back in my chair and blinking like an
idiot at the paper in front of me. "You should be getting to bed, Jere," she
says after a minute, watching me quietly.

	"I know," I say hopelessly, letting my hands drop into my lap. Suddenly I
feel like crying, and I'm not sure why.

	She frowns slightly, but then begins organizing my notes and putting them
into a neat pile for me.

	"I've been watching you all night," she says, and I watch her perfectly
shaped fingers rifle through the pages expertly. "You've never been in here
so long... you haven't even looked up for five hours. Exams aren't usually
such a trouble for you, are they?"

	I shake my head, feeling like my head has severed itself from my neck and
is floating a million miles up in the stellarsphere.

	"No. I just want to make sure that I don't screw up."

	She is quiet for a moment longer, and then pushes the pile towards me,
leaving her hand on it as I try to take it. I look up at her.

	"Or are you just hiding from a screw up?"

	I sigh as I stare at her, and make a defeated face. She smiles slightly, a
sweet uplifting of her burgandy-coloured lips, her fair skin contrasting
vividly with the supple darkness of her eyes.

	"Did you have a fight with Shae?"

	"Sort of," I say, taking her hand into mine and letting my fingers dance
across her skin, playing with the various rings adorning her fingers.

	"Sort of?" she echoes lightly, smiling and watching me run my index finger
along the contours of her palm.

	I nod wordlessly, and as her fingers close around mine, the warmth of the
contact triggers something in my heart, and I feel a wrenching sob lifting
in my chest. So I bow my head and simply kiss the back of her hand twice,
and rub my cheek against her soft skin slowly until she sighs and moves to
sit beside me, not removing her hand. I make room for her in the little
booth, and she throws her other arm around my waist, pulling me into a hug.
I hold her hand tightly against my chest, and lean against her shoulder,
closing my eyes against the stupid tears I can feel threatening to sully my
face and demeanour. We sit there for quite a while, my hand caressing hers
and her other hand running through my hair.

	"You're wonderful, you know that?" I murmur softly, kissing her hand again,
which gains a soft laugh from her throat.

	"No, I'm just a friend. Seems to me that you need one right about now."

	I shrug, and she lifts my head to find my eyes.

	"What happened with Leia, Jere?"

	I stare at her for a second and sigh. "I left her."

	"I figured," she says, nodding, her long hair falling into her eyes. "I
knew it had to be bull about her leaving you. She was nuts over you.. you
were the best thing to happen to her in years."

	I snicker humourlessly. "Right. I was wonderful to her."

	Lily shakes her head and taps me on the nose. "You were. She was just awful
to you."

	I don't say anything to that. And then, Lily asks:

	"Why did you leave her, Jere? I can't believe it was because you realized
how horrid she was, as much as I'd like to."

	I smile sincerely, and sit up, reluctantly leaving the soft warmth of her
embrace.

	"You'd be right not to believe it."

	She brushes a hair off my shirt, her gaze intent upon mine.

	"So why, then?"

	I try to think this one out. How to tell her? I look into her eyes and see
no judgement, no preconcieved ideas, and I cast my cares into the winds of
her logic.

	"I fell in love with someone else."

	She smiles slowly, her kissable lips curving in such a way that, for the
first time in about a year, I am slightly aroused by a female smile.

	"Who's the lucky girl?" She asks, her voice melodic with delight.

	This is where I smile to myself and look her in the eyes.

	"No girl."

	She blinks at me a few times, and then loses her smile as realization
blossoms in her ice-cream gaze.

	"Shae."

	I have to grin, even though the name pains me, and nod.

	"That obvious, huh."

	She shakes her head, and her clear voice soothes my senses once more.

	"No... but if you were to fall in love with any guy, Shae would be it. Shae
is always it.. for every guy. In some way they all fall in love with him,
whether they can bring themselves to admit it or not. Either it's his
intelligence, or his sensuality."

	I have to smile at that assessment, and nod slowly as I think on it.

	"Yeah... you've got it. Very... astute."

	She giggles quietly, her breath smelling of grapes and sweet grass.

	"Not quite. I just know from personal experience."

	I must look really stupid as I look at her, for she laughs delightedly.

	"Oh yes. Men aren't the only ones prone to Shae's charisma. Not by a long
shot. Even after I knew he was gay I still tormented myself with what-if's.
Even now when I see him, that damned smile of his still sends my heart doing
cartwheels. That's how it is for most of the girls around here. The ones
that aren't dykes, that is."

	I laugh, and nudge her in the side.

	"You talk like you're straight, Lily."

	She laughs softly and stands, pulling me up with her, thrusting my papers
into my hand.

	"Sometimes I wish I was," she sighs, shaking her head. "Girls are so damn
prissy sometimes."

	"Don't I know it," I laugh. "But so are guys, believe me."

	She laughs and nods. "Wait here. I'm going to get my coat, and you are
going to walk me home."

	"Yes ma'am," I say, raising my eyebrows and saluting her. She laughs and
pinches my ass before dissapearing for her coat.

	She reappears after a moment, and I wait for her to lock up before taking
her arm into my own. We begin to head to the girl's dorms slowly, her voice
echoing in a lovely manner through the ghostly trees.

	"So. What was this fight about?"

	I sigh and exhale, watching my breath cloud and dissapate.

	"Well, to make a long story short, we got drunk, he kissed me. He thinks I
hate him for it, and I hate the fact that it meant nothing to him. He's made
it clear that that's all it was. Nothing. And now Brendan's been trying to
convince me that Shae still loves me... you know, in that way... after all
these years, and I'm just about to believe it when I find him and Jamie
making out in his room. That was last week... and tonight, he asked me if
he's done anything wrong. I couldn't begin to tell him, so I lied, said no,
left and came to the library."

	She is quiet for a while, and then she says "Hmmm."

	I grin tiredly. "Yeah. Exactly. Hmmm."

	She squeezes my arm softly, and turns almond shaped eyes on me gently.

	"Maybe Brendan's not so wrong, you know. I've never know him to be wrong
about many things, except about himself."

	I squeeze her back, but shake my head.

	"He kissed me. Instead of pining, like he did for four years after the last
time, he got himself involved with Jamie right away. That doesn't exactly
spell the mixture of love."

	Her fingers find mine, and she swings my arm back and forth lightly as we
approach the dorm.

	"Yeah.. he got involved with Jamie right away. And why do you think that
was? Could it be because your kiss was driving him crazy, just like it did
the last time? He needed to get away from it?"

	I snort. "Pffft. Right." But I can't help but think on it for a second,
frowning as I do.

	She laughs softly, and glances at me coyly. "You do have an amazing kiss,
Jere," she says, winking.

	I roll my eyes at her, trying not to blush. "That was a long time ago,
Lily..."

	"Not so long that I can't remember. How could I ever forget? That was the
night you helped me out of the closet."

	I grin and look down.

	"Yeah," I say, chuckling. "By admitting that you thought my girlfriend was
hot. And then she left me for you. What a way to kiss someone, huh?"

	She sighs, and pokes me in the side. "You didn't like her anyway. You said
she gave bad head."

	I laugh helplessly and hold open the door for her.

	"She did. I hope she did better for you.."

	She giggles and delivers me a very old look. "Remember how I broke up with
her after a week? That was no coincidence."

	So, laughing, I show her to her door, and she hugs me tightly before she
goes in. And whispering in my ear, she says:

	"Shae loves you. I know he does. You don't see the way he looks at you when
you're not looking. It makes my heart break. You're the only one he wants.
He could have had countless boyfriends in all these years, but he's only had
a few casual ones. A torch burns in that heart for you, 'Miah'... I know it.
It's never stopped, no matter what you think. Believe me."

	As I pull away in wondering amazement, she winks at me and leans in,
brushing my lips with hers in a tantalizing symphony of strawberry lip gloss
and softness.

	"Take care, Jere," she whispers into my lips. "Good luck."

	I smile into her kiss and hug her tightly, kissing her back gently, softly.
We stand there for a while, kissing slowly, until a hand-in-hand couple
walks by, giggles on their lips and laughter in their eyes.

	"Well, well, well," one of the girls say, stopping. "Lily's a straight one
now?"

	Lily and I break away self-consciously, the both of us wiping at the lip
gloss covering our lips. I flush brightly at the girls' good-natured
laughter, and Lily shakes her head, rolling her eyes at them.

	"Only when you little candies aren't around," she says, winking at me and
waving goodbye as the girls sling their arms around her and pull her away. I
stand there for a while, smiling after her, her words still burning in my
head brightly.

*	*	*	*

	The throbbing in my palms wakes me, disturbing me out of a heavy, dreamless
sleep. Blinking, I wince as I try to open my fists, wincing slightly as the
cuts crack open and gaudy crimson blood leaks out of their depths again.  I
stare at the cuts for a while, remembering with awful clarity the Miah's
picture frame shattering in my hands and against the wall. I groan as I
remember this, the true nature of what I've done crashing through my
consciousness.

	"I smashed it," I whisper to myself, swallowing the pain in my throat away.
"Shit.. what have I done..?"

	He's going to kill me, I realize, but I also know that I can't go back in
there to clean it up, lest I inevitably break something else. If I cleaned
it up, he would still realize it's gone, so there would be no point to it
anyway. I lie there uselessly, staring at the wall, wondering if he's home
yet, if he's seen it. I decide not, however, because I would somehow know
about it. Either he'd come flying into my room, or punch a hole in the wall,
or just break the peices more. But all is silent.

	So I reach for the phone, not knowing who to call until I do. I just need
to talk to someone, anyone. My hands flash messages of pain at me as I dial,
and it isn't until I hear the sleepy voice on the other end that I know who
I've called.

	"Hey Brendan," I say weakly. "Good morning."

	I can hear him clearing his throat on the other end, and I imagine him
blinking sleepily into the darkness.

	"Hey Shae," he says after a moment, his voice thick with drug-like slumber.

	"Did I wake you out of a good dream?" I inquire, twirling the phone cord
around blood-stained fingers.

	"Mmmm. No. I think it was about your mom. What's up?"

	I roll my eyes and laugh in spite of everything. "Very crude. Excellent
display of wits this early in the morning."

	"Nothing but the best for you, my friend. Now, what's up? Why did you
call?"

	I shrug, even though he can't see me. "I fucked up again," I say, curling
up into the fetal position slowly.

	"What, again?" he asks, his voice considerably more alert now.

	"Yeah, but this time I can't tell what I've done. I don't know if it's
still the shit left over from weeks ago, or if its something new."

	"What happened?"

	"I don't really know. I came into his room and asked him why he'd been
avoiding me for a week, and if I'd done anything wrong. He said no and flew
out of the room. That was at seven.. I haven't seen him since then. And plus
I smashed the shit out of the picture he keeps on his nighttable."

	"Does he know about that?"

	"Nope. I'm waiting for him to get home so I can offer him my castrated
balls on a plate... see if that is reparation enough for my stupidity."

	A soft sigh, and I hear him move, presumably to another position on his
bed.

	"Why did you break it?"

	"Why do you think? He left the room looking like I'd killed his mother or
something, and I've never seen him do that before. I felt like shit... and
his damn room was upsetting the hell out of me... everything in it being
so.... _Miah_... and I saw that picture and it made me so mad... so I
smashed it to peices. Which I left there because I can't stand to go back
in. So I fucked up again."

	I listen with closed eyes as Bredan struggles himself into a seated
position.

	"You're too emotional, Shae. Too quick to passion... all the kinds of
passion."

	I pass a hand over my eyes. "Yeah.. the two worse kinds of passion, too."

	Brendan chuckles slightly, yawning as he speaks. "No, not at all. You just
let them overtake you at the wrong times, that's all. From the rumours I've
heard, you've got quite the skillful way of letting passion overcome you in
the sack."

	I flush and don't say anything to that at all.

	"But anyways," he continues somberly, "Jere knows you better than anyone, a
fact that I won't soon let him forget. It's also a fact that confuses the
hell out of him, but never mind that. He won't let the picture thing get to
him.. he'll understand."

	"Why does it confuse him?" I ask. "And no, he won't understand. He'll get
back and see the peices, and think that I hate him. Which is completely
wrong..."

	I hear Brendan get out of bed and open his door. "It confuses him because
you don't let anyone get as close to you as you've let him. Not even me. He
doesn't understand what he did to gain that trust. And he won't think that
you hate him... at least, not deep down he won't. Superficially, for a
while, he might, but not completely."

	I frown into my pillow. "'Cause he's Miah," I say, not bothering to say
anything on the last remark.

	Brendan chuckles softly, and I hear a water tap being turned on. "Right.
Which should say so much to him, coming from someone like you... but he's a
rather self-doubting boy."

	"Someone like me," I scoff, frowning deeper. "What the hell is that."

	"Someone like you... a walled-up person with the face and personality of an
angel."

	I roll my eyes. "An extremely angry angel, if you want to put it in such
sickening terms."

	Brendan laughs quietly. "Oh yes. Very angry... angry at the world, but
especially at his own beauty."

	Uncomfortably, I sigh at him. "I didn't know you thought about me so much,
Brendan."

	He sighs back. "I think alot about everyone I meet. But you are just such a
damn enigma sometimes... I get a headache trying to figure you out. And
besides... that angel stuff was quoted from Jere. I think it is a very
astute assessment."

	I stay silent, not wanting to think about that. He calls me an angel... and
now he's going to get back to his room and see the spoils of the so-called
angel...

	"But anyways. I think you should go and clean up the mess you left in his
room. And when he gets back, tell him."

	I flinch and shy away from that thought. "Ugh," I say hopelessly.

	I can almost hear Brendan shrug. "Hey. You broke it. You clean it up. It's
better than leaving it for him to cut his fingers on."

	I nod slowly and sigh. "Okay."

	"Okay. And try not to break anything else while you're at it."

	"Mmmm," I say. "I'll try. Night, Bren. Thanks."

	"You're welcome, Shae. But you owe me a coffee in the morning."

	We hang up, and I sit there for a while longer, trying to get up the will
to go clean. After a while, I sort of slide into a standing position and go
out into the living room, grabbing a bag. Heading to his room, I keep my
eyes on the floor, kneeling by the glass and shredded picture peices,
systematically picking them up and putting them in the bag. Listening to the
peices clink together, I fight the urge to shoot myself in the head. Once
they are all picked up, I run my hand over the carpet to make sure there
aren't any stray peices left, and jerk back as a peice lodges itself in my
palm, hitherto unnoticed by me. Swearing, I stand, and as I do, I hear the
door open. Turning without meaning to, I come face to face with Miah, whose
bright eyes survey the situation wonderingly.

	I curse inwardly and just stand there with the peice of glass imbedded in
my palm, blood seeping up already, the bag of glass swinging at my side. I
try to avoid Miah's gaze, but it persues mine persistantly, and the
expression on his face is one of confusion and wariness. So I just give up.

	"I broke your picture," I say listlessly, desperately clutching to the
hopeful logic that simply nothing else could possibly go wrong tonight.

	He blinks slowly, dark lashes lowering over sea-grean eyes lightly, and
then transferrs his gaze from my eyes to the bag tinkling at my side. He
doesn't say anything to this for a moment, but looks at my hand. And when he
sees the blood-stained glass rising like an absurd tower out of my flesh, he
points to it.

	"You're hurt."

	I nod, and shrug. "Yeah. I got blood on your carpet, too... I'll pay to
have it cleaned."

	He shakes his head slowly and moves towards me, taking the bag from my
unresisting fingers and letting it rest on the bed where he doesn't pay
anymore attention to it. He takes my hand into his own, where he turns it
slightly, gaging the depth of the wound. I keep my eyes on the floor,
suddenly not very able to deal with his presence right now.

	"Why?" he asks, his voice still in the same light, guarded tone, his
fingers warm against my cold, bloody ones.

	I realize he isn't talking about me paying to clean the carpet, and I lift
one shoulder in a tiny shrug.

	"Would you believe me if I said I didn't know?"

	I can feel his gaze flicker to touch upon my closed eyes and then drop back
down.

	Softly: "I guess I'll have to."

	"I'm sorry," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'll get you a new
frame, and you can have the copy of the picture that I have."

	He begins to lead me out into the livingroom silently, heading towards the
sink.

	"No, it's okay." His voice is very uncomprimising as he says this, and I
can't help but feel a stab of pain shoot through my heart.

	"But it was your favourite picture," I say desperately.

	"Shae, don't worry about it." I hear anger here, and I shut up.

	As he turns on the water in the sink, I notice for the first time the
bandages on his knuckles. Frowning worriedly, I try to understand where he
would have gotten them, and I feel my heart sink as the knowledge that he
didn't even tell me about them assails me. Things are really falling apart,
I tell myself bitterly, and bite my tongue deeply as he sticks my hand under
the water.

	"This is going to hurt, but stay still," he says, his voice expressionless.
So I nod and stay silent.

	I feel his fingers grab hold of the glass, and am rewarded with a bit of
hope as he squeezes my fingers lightly before yanking it out. The sound of
the water hides the sound of the glass falling into the sink, and I flinch
as the pain spirals deeply into my arm.

	"Ow," I say softly, and open my eyes, watching the blood pool in my palm.

	"You should go get this stitched up."

	I nod. "Yeah."

	"How did you get the other cuts?"

	Why not? I ask myself. All out honesty now.. no point in trying to act
macho.

	"Breaking it," I say, shrugging.

	"Oh."

	I can't look at him as I grab paper towel and wrap my hand it.

	"I'm going down to the nurse then," I say. "Thanks for helping."

	He is silent and just stands there as I wrap my hand. When I am done, I
lift my eyes slowly to find his face, and when his eyes lock on mine, I try
to weakly smile. But it doesn't work, and Miah's face is serious, without
any sort of forgiveness in it. I stare at it, the fairness of it, the
picturesque beauty of his features and eyes, and feel suddenly very
insignificant in the face of it all. I reach out then, to his hand, and
lightly run my fingers over the bandages sitting there. He watches me do
this, and I think I see him wince slightly, but I don't move my hand away.
He keeps his gaze down, and after a while, I move away. Heading out the
door, I blink back tears as I head towards the medical building, the lyrics
of a song running over and over in my head.

	'I know, I know I've failed you...
	And I hope, I hope we get through...
	Somehow..
	The mystery's gone
	So bring back the sun...'

*	*	*	*

	Clinking of glass rattles in my lap, the bag sitting there innocently, not
knowing the burden that it carries, and how heavily it sits on my heart. I
sit on the edge of the bed, staring into the depths of the bag, seeing
bright glass overlay torn peices of the picture that I've loved since the
day I saw it so long ago. I reach in with a shaking finger and gently trace
Shae's torn face which is ensconsed in a pile of razor-sharp peices of
glass. I feel the glass cutting my skin, but it feels such a small price to
pay in the face of all this loss. I'm past the point of wondering why he did
it, past the point of caring, really. I look up and toss the bag into the
garbage bin beside my bed. Getting up, I turn off the light and get into
bed, waiting for the alarm to go off.

*	*	*	*

	"You're not paying attention to me," Brendan sighs.

	I look up at him belatedly. "I'm sorry," I apologize heartlessly. We are
sitting at a table in the cafe, him eating salad, me just picking at mine.

	He watches me for a moment and then sits down next to me, leaning on the
table and regarding me with dark, honest eyes.

	"Did he tell you why he did it?"

	I blink at him and look at him with the most alert gaze I've been able to
muster up for the past three days.

	"I didn't know you knew about it."

	He sighs and twirls a single dredlock around one skinny finger.

	"He called me and told me about it. He felt that bad."

	I shrug. "Please don't try and make excuses for him."

	Brendan shakes his head. "I'm not, Jere. I'm just telling you what I know."

	I sigh, and push my bowl away. "So why did he, then?"

	Brendan shrugs. "I don't know.. that's why I was asking you."

	"You didn't tell him that we saw him and Jamie, did you?"

	He shakes his head firmly. "Hell no. That, most likely, would have made
things a lot worse."

	I sigh and nod, gazing down at the table. Lifting a finger, I begin to
sketch meaningless swirls on its reflective surface, seeing again and again
his hand reaching out to touch mine, to let his graceful, expressive fingers
glide over the bandages that I've since taken off. I close my eyes and try
to think about something else.

	"Hey guys!"

	My eyes snap open instantly at the sound of that voice; cheerful and bright
like oranges, highly annoying at this point in time, and a voice that I've
cursed time and time again. Brendan flashes me a warning glance that I
pointedly ignore and look up at Jamie. He's standing there with a smile as
big as the world, his auburn hair teased up into haphazzard spikes on his
head, his eyes bright and light-catching. Dressed impeccably as always, I
try not to groan at his completeness, at the way he makes me feel like such
a goddamned homeless nobody. I look up at his lips and feel my body begin to
tremble with rage, knowing that the lips that should have belonged to me
were now claimed by his... by this candy confection of a male.

	"Hey," Brendan says, with a smile that doesn't reflect in his eyes.

	"Hey Jere," Jamie says after winking at Brendan, transferring his neon gaze
onto me.

	I offer as polite a smile as I can muster, and stay silent. Thankfully, he
doesn't seem to notice my contained anger, and keeps right on talking.

	"Either of you seen Shae? We've got a study date tonight."

	I swallow and look down quickly, feeling Brendan kick me under the table. I
try not to clench my hands. I'm sure you do, I tell him seethingly, in my
head. I'm sure you do. So when you've got him pressed up against the wall, I
can be sure all you'll be thinking about is Charles Dickens? Right. Fuck
you.

	"No," says Brendan, and then I feel him move his gaze away. "Oh, wait. Here
he is now."

	Oh God, I groan. This day just keeps getting better and better. I can NOT
stand to see these two together... if I see anything weird, I swear I'm
going to send Jamie flying through the bar...

	"Shae!" Jamie calls, and I look fleetingly over my shoulder as he heads to
the door where Shae stands. He is partially in the cafe; the door resting
against one hand as he blinks, trying to accustom his eyes to the inside
darkness after the brilliance of the daylight. Sunlight pours around him,
through him almost, bathing his entire body in a radiance that seems almost
mythical, sinking into the straight layers of his hair, making it glow with
a furious beauty. The fairness of his skin is set aglow from the light, and
the lithe, graceful posture of his body is highlighted to an almost painful
clarity as he moves inside. I have to look away and down, unable to watch as
he moves through the space around him, knowing without having to look that
the air would slide like holy insense through his hair and clothes, making
him look like a disembodied angel, one with sapphire wisdom in his eyes and
swords guarding his wild heart.

	"Fuck," I whisper angrily, and I can feel Brendan's gaze transfer over to
me sympathetically.

	I can feel him approaching; the familiar, effortless Light of his presence
permeating even my black mood and making me feel like breathing again. He
stops by my side; I look sideways as he comes to a halt, see the hem of his
t-shirt resting lightly over the waist of his jeans, the erotic curves of
his hips hiding elusively under the denim. Idley, I imagine myself slipping
off the chair and kneeling before him, sliding my hands up his thighs
slowly, using my teeth to undo his zipper, rubbing his groin with my cheek
until I felt something stir...

	"Hey, Shae," I hear Brendan say quietly.

	"Hello," Shae replies in his usual measured tone, and I can feel his blue
gaze resting on the back of my head. But I don't say anything, merely
flinching as Jamie cuts in.

	"So what are we doing tonight, babe? Are you coming over to my place or am
I going over to yours?"

	The swell of rage that begins to burn at the sound of 'babe' is slowly
combated by my wild fantasy to pick up the fork Brendan is using and using
it to make Jamie unable of ever fathering children. I squeeze my eyes shut
and try not to say anything, begging Shae to tell him to go somewhere
else... anywhere but our dorm... I'll go completely postal..

	"Um," Shae says distractedly, and I squirm, wanting to leave. "I guess...
I'll... go... over to your place..."

	But that isn't good either, I realize, scowling at the tabletop. Now I'll
just be lying in my room letting myself get angrier and angrier as I imagine
what they're doing.. getting more and more sordid the more furious I get...

	"Good," Jamie says, almost purring. Unbelievably, I watch as Jamie slips
his hand into Shae's, watch as his carefully manicured fingers intertwine
with Shae's slender ones. And I would have been about to stand up and shove
them both out of my way as I headed outside, if Shae hadn't at that instant
jerked his hand away. A sullen kind of satisfaction nullifies the anger as I
see this, and I compose myself again. But I can hear my breathing become
more eratic, and the hand that holds my pen begins to tremble slightly.

	"Okay," Shae says quickly, and I see him take a step back. "See you later."

	But Jamie tugs on his sleeve, and Shae stops.

	"Do you need me to pick you up from work tonight?" Jamie asks, and I
freeze. _What_? I'm the one who does that... aren't I?

	I can feel Brendan sit up slightly, and I raise my gaze slowly to find
Shae's. The time that we look at each other lasts for about a second, but
what I see in his twilight gaze tells me enough. I look down again, and
before giving Shae time enough to answer, I clear my throat.

	"No," I say, trying to keep my voice composed. "I'll do that."

	I can feel Jamie glance at me in surprise, but I don't look up again. There
is no way that I am going to let him infiltrate my friendship with Shae
_that_ much. He can steal his heart, fine. He can steal his body, fine. But
he's not going to steal away my time. No fucking way.

	"Oh...kay," Jamie says hesitantly, and inwardly I snarl at him. But I can
almost feel Shae's relief; it is like a shadowed threat that lies in
darkness suddenly absolved, the easing of a straining pressure at the corner
of my mind. The feeling of it gives me respite, a sudden hope flickering in
the abyss.

	"I'll be there to pick you up at seven," I tell him, ignoring the shaking
of my heart.

	"Sounds good," he says hurriedly, and then begins to walk away again. Jamie
trails after him, and I wait for Brendan to relax as a sign that they have
left the cafe before I look up again.

	He sits across from me silently, his gaze locked on my face. I match his
gaze for a moment, and he smiles sunnily, reaching across the table to
squeeze my shoulder.

	"Way to tell him," he says, winking.

	I sigh and stab at my salad viciously, imagining it to be Jamie's face. "I
hate that bastard," I say.

	"Poor Jamie," he says in reply, leaning back languidly. "Has no clue what's
going on..."

	I shrug uncaringly.

	"If I could, I'd make it physical and shove it up his ass. Then he'd know."

	Brendan chortles quietly and stands, pushing his salad away and slinging
his backpack onto his shoulders.

	"Tell me how it goes, okay?" He asks, and when I nod, he leans down and
kisses my cheek before heading out. I stare after him in surprise, touching
my cheek lightly. All this empathy... from all these people... but the only
one whose I want.. I can't have.

*	*	*	*

	Closing the door behind me, I lean against it in exhaustion, my chest
heaving from the run I made back to the dorm. My back presses tightly
against the wood surface, feeling the cool of it sinking into my perspiring
skin. The darkness of the room is absolute, and it soothes me in an
unsatisfying way as I lie down on my bed, Miah's calm voice sounding over
and over again in my head. So at least he'll still pick me up from work...a
really good sign. Maybe things aren't as bad as I fear...

	Reaching out across the blankets, I feel my fingers run over a smooth, cool
object, and I pick it up slowly and hug it to my chest, letting my hands run
absently over the cracks still obvious throughout its shape, although a
meticulous job with crazy glue tried to fix it days before. I taped the
picture back together, and spent about two hours trying to get the frame
back to normal. I bought a new pane of glass, and now it looks not half bad,
if you can get over the spiderweb tracery spreading like a sickness
throughout the whole thing.

	Lifting it to my lips, I press a kiss to the glass, closing my eyes and
holding it there for a long time, feeling my whole body throb with yearning.
My hands feel like sand, my heart is jumping insanely, my chest forgets to
rise and fall with untaken breath, and an erection burns deeply. Groaning
with frustration and fear, I let the picture fall aside as I roll onto my
side, trying not to let my mind fall back into its familiar patterns of
thinking about him, letting those thoughts become red and dark and sink
straight down into my cock. Burying my face into the pillow, I restlessly
try to think about something else, the whole time an uneasy vision in the
back of my head of Miah's lips rubbing against my crotch, his teeth pulling
down my fly and his tongue reaching inside...

	"God..." I whisper, clenching my hands, desperately trying to ignore the
insistant throbbing in my pants.

	But even as I whisper that word of warding, it defeats me and I moan as I
lose my mind to burning desires, my whole body shaking as my imagination
carries me off, my body pressing against my bed, my hand already heading
towards the call. The last coherent thought I have is 'I hate this...'
before my fingers are undoing my jeans and slipping inside, my back arching
desperately as unsatisfactory pleasure and tears begin to burn.

*	*	*	*

	It is dark when I head down to the parking lot, Shae's spare truck keys in
my hand, jingling nervously as I walk. The cold seeps through my shirt
impassively, evoking body-wrenching shivers as I go. But I can't go back to
get a coat, or else I'll never come back out again. Nervousness and fear
sways me as I head towards the back of the lot, my gaze searching out his
truck anxiously. How is this going to go, I wonder? Will it be silence the
entire way, or will we actually talk? And if we do, will it be about this,
or about stupid nothing at all?

	Thinking all these thoughts, it takes a while before I realize that
something is wrong. Coming to a stop, I stare ahead of me into the empty
parking spaces, unable to comprehend at first what exactly is the problem.
And then I realize it. Shae's truck isn't there. I blink for a moment,
staring stupidly at the emptiness, until a voice cuts sharply through my
thoughts, erasing my worry for the time being. I turn around slowly, already
feeling a wariness at all of this rising.

	"Jeremiah..."

	My gaze finds the two people approaching through the darkness, and I squint
at them warily as my eyes try to focus. Derek and Marc again...

	"Hey," I say, holding the keys lightly, looking around for the truck again,
thinking maybe he parked it somewhere else tonight..

	Derek melts out of the shadows, emerging like a sudden bad dream into the
glaring neon of the streetlamp that hovers ghostly above us. I stare at him
for a moment, seeing Marc out of the corner of my eye approaching as well.

	"I found out something interesting today," Derek says in a cold, malicious
voice, and it is then that I look down and see the baseball bat in his
hands.

	I look up quickly, feeling my body tense and my mind to start pumping
adrenalline. Everything becomes crystal clear, no detail escapes my eyes as
I look the two over, understanding now what is happening.

	"Oh?" I ask, slipping the keys into my pocket, Shae's truck forgotten.
Clenching my hidden hands into fists, I stare at Derek warningly,
nervousness at the mounting situation making me feel disoriented.

	"Yeah," he says, hefting the bat casually. "Jamie and that Brendan guy.. we
overheard them talking today, about you and your queer friend."

	I swallow but don't say anything. The light from the streetlamp pours
abusingly down on Derek's head and shoulders, sinking with sinister
slickness into the blackness of his hair, accentuating the broadness of his
shoulders and arms. He begins to loom in front of me, and I can't help the
dryness in my throat as I see his fingers curl tightly around the worn stem
of the bat.

	"So it's not a lie," he says, his gaze like black lava. Marc steps into the
light, and I almost start to laugh out of debilitating nervousness as I see
that he's got himself a bat too, one of the steel ones.

	It takes me a moment to form enough moisture to speak. "Why do you hate gay
people so much, Derek?" I ask him quietly, watching him halt. "Can't live
with yourself when you've woken up in the morning, cum all over your sheets
because you've been jerking off all night, thinking about them?"

	Even through the whiteness of the light, I see his face pale. In that
moment, I know my words to be true, and I see Derek's muscles shrink, see
his whole frame wither and die until he becomes a shaking, fearful husk in
front of me. But this only lasts for a moment until his eyes grow black and
deep flush explodes over his face. With a yell of fury, he jumps forward,
the bat raised. I am ready for this, however, and duck quickly, darting away
before he comes around again. Marc comes up behind me, and with a grunt,
aims the bat for my chest, but I manage to grab his arm and wrench it back,
sending him flying with a punch to his shoulder. He lands somewhere out of
the circle of light, and for the moment, I am left with Derek. He circles me
slowly, power seeming to pour off his shoulders, reeking off of him in the
form of sweat and cologne.

	"You goddamned faggot," he hisses, his eyes slits and his voice trembling
fury. "You're all fucking disgusting, all of you. This gay tolerance stuff
is bullshit... we should have castrated the whole lot of you when we had the
chance. Now it's gone too far. You're spreading like a fucking disease..."

	He launches himself at me so quickly that I have no time to move. The head
of the bat swings through the air almost lazily, connecting with my shoulder
in a punishing blow. I feel it send me flying, feel my shoulder crack and
pain to explode throughout my whole body. I don't hear myself scream, but I
do hear myself start swearing as I land on that shoulder, the asphalt rising
up out of nowhere and smacking into my side. The whole weight of my body
lands on my shoulder and arm, making the shoulder crack again and an
unbelieveable, paralyzing pain making me see purple and red.

	I lie there, jerking with pain but trying to get up and out of the way as
Derek approaches again. Staggering to my knees, I use my good arm to push me
up, and I take a floundering step backwards as he swings past me, missing me
only slightly. He howls with rage and is about to turn on me again, when out
of nowhere I hear a screeching of tires on the pavement and see headlights
suddenly peirce the darkness with blazing intensity. I yelp as the light
stabs into my eyes and sends that pain to connect with my shoulder, and try
to take a step back away from it. Vaguely I see the headlights come to a
stop just outside the circle of light, and a door to slam shut. Then out of
darkness, Shae comes flying in, screaming.

	"What the fuck do you think you're doing, you asshole?!?" I watch him move,
as if in slow motion, his hair caught ablaze, his skin pale and white, his
eyes bright and burning with a hate so intense that it shocks me out of my
pain-filled stupor. Derek has no time to move as Shae flies into him,
sending them both hurtling towards the ground. The bat goes whinging out of
sight, and Shae, as quick as lightning, grabs Derek's flailing hands and
sits on them, wrestling him into submission as he straddles him. Pinning his
arms to his side with his knees, I watch as he begins to punch the shit out
of Derek's face, each smack resounding painfully throughout the empty
parking lot, Derek's cries of pain and rage lost in the face of Shae's fury.
Shae's fists are a blur, his voice yelling something unintelligble over and
over again. All this happens in a matter of seconds, so I am only half-way
over to him in an attempt to pull him off when I see Marc jump back up.
Derek's face is covered in blood, crimson red flying through the air with
each connection Shae's fists make with his head. Shae's covered with his
blood too, and he is so lost in his rage that he doesn't see Marc come up
behind him. I'm running as fast as I can, ignoring the blinding pain,
screaming his name.

	"SHAE!!" But I am too late.

	Marc lifts the bat, I see it gleam silver and streamlined in the light,
lowering like a sword in the night. It slams into the back of Shae's head
twice with a sound that for weeks later will make me wince in pain, and I
see Shae suddenly stop and fall on top of the now unconscious Derek. The
sound of the bat connecting with his skull snaps through the air, and when
the bat comes back up, it is covered in blood and blonde hair. Screaming, I
push myself at Marc, knocking him over. The pain in my shoulder is forgotten
as I kick the bat away and wrestle with him, trying to get him down. But
then out of nowhere, something like a hundred voices fill my senses, and I
feel arms wrap like iron around my chest, pulling me back and off Marc. I
fight whoever it is that is pulling me off, punching wildly in an attempt to
break free. But the arms hold me steadfast, and distantly I hear a voice
screaming at me, telling me to desist. I see people all around me, people
from the dorms, some holding Marc down, others crowding around Shae and
Derek.

	"Let me go!!" I scream, trying to tear towards Shae's still body. But I am
not released, and the pain begins to make itself known again as I struggle.
I stare at Shae through red-hot tears, sobs of shock and fear rattling
throughout my whole body as I see Shae pulled off Derek and rolled onto his
back, his unseeing eyes staring up at the nightsky, blood pooling in his
hair, turning brilliant gold to scarlet pain. I see people shaking him,
getting no response. I hear myself screaming his name, watch as people start
to take off their coats, wrapping him in them, placing sweaters under his
head in an attempt to stop the bleeding. I feel myself being pulled away,
and I hang limply, staring in anguish after Shae. Shouts and people's calls
for help fly all around me, and I see the dorms begin to fill with light as
people inside them start to take notice of the action outside. Distantly I
hear sirens approaching; can see their red and white lights flashing through
the trees as they make their way here.

	The person that holds me makes me sit down on the pavement, turns me away
from Shae. I feel my shirt being torn off, and I hear a gasp as my swollen
shoulder comes into veiw. I look up dully into the hazy vision of Brendan's
shocked face, try to listen to the words he is yelling that I can't quite
catch. All I see as I stare is Shae's blank, dilated eyes, staring up
sightlessly at the sky, blood seeping onto his face. An ambulence pulls into
the lot quickly, coming to a halt beside Shae's recumbant figure. People
make way as the paramedics come to a crash stop beside him, one ripping open
his shirt to lay an ear on his chest, the other lifting Shae's head and
putting it on her knee as she presses gauze to the wound. As they do this, I
see Shae's chest convulse, and blood to start pouring out of his nose and
lips. I try to stand, a fear so deadly and harrowing striking me as I see
this. My world begins to shatter as I see him begin to shake, his eyes
rolling back in his head.

	"NO!" I scream, trying to run for him. But Brendan pulls me back, and I
kick at him desperately. But he holds on, not letting me go. The male
paramedic puts an oxygen mask on his mouth and begins to pump, nodding to
the other medics as they pull out the stretcher. Once the female medic has
his head wrapped, they count to three in calm, quick voices, and heft Shae
up onto the stretcher. I watch in helpless fear as they strap his head,
chest and legs down, cover him with a bright orange blanket. Lifting him up
into the ambulence, he is lost to my sight as they slam the door shut after
themselves, the female medic pounding on the door twice with the flat of her
hand once it is closed as a sign to the driver to take off. The ambulence
does, and it is gone quickly, the siren howling through the night.

	The remaining medics come up to me, and making me sit down, they begin to
examine my shoulder, speaking to me in calm, expressionless voices. I can't
answer any of their questions, however, leaving Brendan to answer for me as
best he can, me staring off in desperation at the direction the ambulence
went. Tears pour down my face, my hands shake as the memory of him falling
and bleeding haunts me over and over. I can see people holding down Marc
still, yelling at him, and another medic leaning over Derek, trying to rouse
him. Two police officers are here now too, and I watch them pick up the
bats, one of them looking at the one that had hit Shae and lightly touch the
hair clumped on the end of it. I slump then, and I think I start to faint,
because all the noise becomes static, my vision starts to shrink into
nothingness. The touch of the medic's hands on me becomes just a memory, and
a welcome darkness overtakes me.

*	*	*	*

	When I wake up again, it is to the feeling of incredible pain. I open my
eyes quickly, trying not to scream reflexively as my shoulder throbs. Bright
flourescent light pours into my consciousness, and I yelp, closing my eyes
against it, not understanding where I am. But another stab of pain makes me
open my eyes again, and I hear a voice speaking to me, and see someone's
face rise out of nowhere and block out the light. A pair of female eyes
stare at me in concern, hazel and rimmed with eyeliner, the rest of her face
covered with a gauze mask. I blink at her and try to shake her hands off my
shoulder, which she is now pressing into with her fingers, evoking
indescribable pain.

	"Jeremiah," she says, her voice muffled behind the mask. "Jeremiah, are you
with me?"

	I nod at her through tears, trying to move away, but another pair of hands,
I realize, are holding me down.

	"Do you know where you are?"

	I shake my head and whimper as she presses down again.

	"You are at Easterlings General Hospital, and you have dislocated your
shoulder quite badly, may have fractured the socket. We are going to have to
put it back in right now, okay? Do you understand? Then we need you to take
some x-rays once we get it in. We couldn't get a clear picture on the
preliminary ones we took."

	I stare at her blankly, not understanding til she shakes me.

	"Do you understand?"

	I nod weakly, and I see her look up and over my head.

	"Okay," she says, addressing some unknown person. "On three, you push down,
I'll pull his arm up and over."

	Fear begins to grip me, but before I can stop them, the one above me has
hands pushing down on my shoulder, and she begins to pull my arm. As they do
this, my back arches suddenly, my whole body snapping in pain. A white-hot
feeling so intense and pure emits from my shoulder that I scream without
realizing it, borne away on a current of pain so strong that I can become
nothing else but it.

	"Keep going," she says, grunting as she pulls. It seems to go on for
forever until, blessedly, I feel a huge snap shake throughout my whole body,
jerking my spine. Ignoring my yell of pain, she lifts my arm again and moves
it, testing its security in the socket.

	"We'll need to set it," she tells the unknown person matter-of-factly.
"It's pretty loose."

	"Okay. Let's get him off to x-ray, then," I hear the person above me say,
in a voice that is soft and masculine. I close my eyes against the pain as I
feel the thing I am lying on start to move, see lights on the ceiling flash
by behind my eyelids. I'm shivering with cold, and can't move my body.
Distantly I feel a prick in the crook of my elbow, but pay it no attention.
In a daze I lie there as they take x-rays of my shoulder, and I think I fall
asleep while they wait for the results. Eventually I am aware of someone
sitting me up, and gentle hands wrapping my shoulder and arm in a strange
sort of sling. I open my eyes, and find myself in a private little room,
with a doctor leaning over me, a nurse tying up my shoulder, Brendan and a
police officer conversing lowly in a corner. I blink slowly, and the doctor
looks up.

	"Well, hello, Jeremiah. They drugged you up pretty good, huh?"

	I blink uneasily at him, and nod hesitantly. "Y'ah..th'nk so.." I say
slowly, slurring my vowels.

	The pain is gone however, and I smile in relief at that. The doctor smiles
back at me and reaches over to feel my forehead.

	"No more pain?"

	"Mmno," I say, closing my eyes again.

	"Good. But I'm afraid we can't let you go to sleep just yet. This police
officer needs to have a quick word with you, and then we can let you have
your rest. Also, your friend Brendan here I am sure would like to say
hello.."

	I open my eyes to see Brendan approach slowly, his hands in his pockets and
his face pale and withdrawn.

	"Heya, Jere," he says softly, concern filling his eyes like tears.

	I grin weakly at him and offer him a wave.

	"Hey," I manage. "Don' w'rry, kay?"

	He nods with a smile, and looks about to say something, when the officer he
was talking to maneuvers past him and looks down at me calculatingly, a
little notebook and pen poised in his hand.

	"Hello, Jeremiah... I'm Officer Byers.." his steel grey eyes flash kindly.
"I just need to ask you a few quick questions, okay?"

	I nod.

	"From what I gathered from your friend here, you were on your way to pick
up a friend when the two young men accosted you in the parking lot?"

	I nod slowly, and then jerk into a sitting position, startling the nurse.

	"Shae!" I say urgently, my eyes wildly searching out the eyes of the doctor
and Brendan. "Where is he?! Is he ok?!"

	Brendan lays a hand on my arm soothingly, and nods.

	"He's here too, and yeah, he's ok. Just relax -- you can see him later."

	I stare at him worriedly, my fingers shaking. "Are you sure? You're not
lying to me??"

	Brendan shakes his head, but avoids my eyes. "Jere, chillax. Just talk to
the officer, and then we'll talk, okay? Shae is fine, though."

	I drag my eyes off him to find Officer Byers again, who continues.

	"So, is that correct?"

	I nod slowly, still looking at Brendan fearfully. "Yeah," I say faintly,
the drugs in my blood seeming to thin out slightly as the memory of Shae
hurtles back. "They came out of nowhere and started swinging."

	"Do you know why?"

	The pain in my shoulder starts to come back, and I wince slightly, shifting
away from the nurse's touch.

	"They don't like gay people," I say hollowly, closing my eyes weakly.
"Homophobic."

	There is a silence as the officer scribbles something down, and then: "Are
you gay? Is that why they did this?"

	I start to shake my head instantly, and then stop, opening my eyes. "...
I... I... don't know," I say faintly, my brain feeling like mush. "I think
so."

	"You think you are gay, or that is the reason they did that? Can you
clarify?"

	I shake my head slowly, trying to displace the fog clouding it. "No, I know
that's why they did that... but I'm not.....I don't think I'm gay..."

	"Is it true, then, that they did this because they heard that you and
Sheldon were romantically involved?"

	I nod. "Yeah..."

	"Are you?"

	"No...I don't know..."

	Then the doctor cuts in, much to my relief. "Jeremiah needs his rest now,
officer... you can come back later."

	The officer sighs, but nods. Offering me a smile, he fishes around in his
pocket.

	"I'm going to give your friend my card. If you have anything else to tell
me, please don't hesitate to call, okay?"

	I nod slowly, and close my eyes. They all leave after each other, Brendan
hovering beside my bed like a bird, his dark, anxious eyes watching them as
they go. Once I hear the door softly click shut, I open my eyes again and
sit up, regarding Brendan penetratingly.

	"So tell me," I say, shifting painfully in my position.

	He sighs softly and drops his gaze, pulling up a chair from the desk beside
the bed. I watch him as he tries to make himself comfortable, his legs
folding up under him and his elbows resting on his knees. When he looks up
at me, I pale, knowing instantly from the look in his eyes that the news is
not good. Grabbing a hold of his hand, I squeeze it tightly, too scared to
ask what my heart demands to know. His eyes are almost all pupils, and the
skin under them is dark with a sudden overload of pain. He watches me like
this for a moment, and I can tell he is trying to figure out how to tell me;
I can see his pale lips moving slightly. And then:

	"He's in a coma, Jere." Softly, sorrowfully. Full of shadow and dark.

	I blink at him slowly, not able to accept this. Not this. Not now. I feel
my heart begin to cut itself off from the rest of me, see the light in the
room grow dim and grey. My fingers clutch his weakly, and I shake my head at
him, my voice tiny and strange.

	"No.."

	Brendan swallows and looks away, but not before I catch the bright sparkle
of tears in his eyes, and sense their presence in his suddenly thick, rough
voice.

	"I forget what exactly the doctor told me.. something about the... bat
...connecting with a part of his brain that shortcircuited everything... he
went into the coma just after he got to the hospital. Was asking about you."

	I let my hand fall away and stare at the wall just left of Brendan's
pinched face. Unconsciously, I raise my other hand and clutch at the thin
fabric covering my chest, wanting to pull my bleeding heart out from its
cage and set it on fire.

	"Is he going to be alright?" I ask, choking slightly.

	Brendan nods uncertainly. "I think so. They said it was too early to tell,
but if he made it through the first couple of hours, then maybe he'd be
okay."

	"How long has it been?" I ask, transferring tear-filled eyes onto him.

	"About three. And we haven't heard anything bad yet... so this is a good
sign."

	"Can I... Can I visit him? Can I see him?"

	Brendan shakes his head and takes my hand again, trying to rub warmth into
it from his own cold fingers.

	"No.. not yet, anyway. I've been asking every half hour. But they were able
to patch up his head... he'll have a plate in there, though, until the bone
meshes together again. The bleeding's stopped, and from what they can tell
from a CAT scan, there shouldn't be much brain damage, if any at all. The
doctors told me that it is like when you drop a CD player on the floor... it
shuts itself off from the impact.... but it will turn on again. Same with
Shae, they figure. They're just waiting for him to turn on again."

	I nod uselessly, sinking into the bed slowly, wanting to hide from
everything.

	"What about Derek and Marc?" I ask dully, biting my lip.

	"They're fine. Shae did quite a number on Derek though..." he pauses to
grin. "Broke his nose in three places, fractured his jaw, permanently
screwed up one of his eyes, too, I think."

	I have to smile through my tears. Brendan squeezes my hand tightly.

	"Derek got arrested for assault and hate crime; Marc for attempted murder.
They intend, from what I heard, to plead guilty to all charges. Once Derek
saw Shae in the emergency room, he started to cry... begged to pay for what
he and Marc did."

	Swallowing, I try to smile to that, but I just can't. The urge to kill
still floods my veins, and I shift restlessly.

	"Why wasn't Shae's truck in the lot?" I ask. "Did.. Jamie go get him after
all?"

	Brendan shrugs. "I'm not sure. I know he was coming back from Jamie's.. I
don't think he went to work. I don't know why. So I guess he came across you
when he was coming back."

	I nod bitterly and bite my lip again, cursing ever having gone down there.

	"Supid guy didn't even pause to see what was going on... he just hurtled
himself right at Derek."

	Brendan chuckles softly, without mirth. "That's Shae for you. I guess he
was pretty pissed when he saw Derek threatening you, figured that was proof
enough, and just went mad. Derek's a pretty tough guy.. I've seen him fight
before. He's taken stronger guys than Shae down... but from what I heard the
officer say from Marc was that Shae had him completely pinned down. That's
fuckin' incredible."

	I nod and wipe at my eyes with the back of my hand. "Yeah... I couldn't
believe it. I just wish I could have moved faster... stopped Marc..." I stop
here, feeling a lump rise in my throat.

	"Don't worry about it, Jere," Brendan says softly, shaking his head. "Not
your fault. You were hurt pretty bad yourself. I don't want to hear anything
else on it, okay?"

	I gape at him for a moment, but then nod. With a smile, he stands, and lets
me have back my hand.

	"I'm gonna go and check up on Shae. You rest... you need it. The docs tell
me that you should be out by tomorrow, they just don't want you moving at
all right now... don't want your arm to fall back out."

	I nod, and stare after him as he leaves. Once he is gone, I close my eyes
and grip the sheets tightly, feeling tears as hot as lava trail down my neck
and into my shirt.

*	*	*	*

	"Hey, Jere? You awake?"

	Groggily, I open my eyes. The unfamiliar scent of the little hospital room
comes back to me, making me cringe at that dirty antiseptic smell that
always smells, to me, like death. I look around for a moment, until an
redheaded face swims into view. Focusing slowly, Jamie's features begin to
lock together, and I sit up slowly, gasping as my shoulder protests.

	"Lie still, man," he says, resting a hand on my arm. "Just wanted to see if
you were okay... that was a pretty nasty hit you took."

	I stare up at him for a moment, blinking wearily. His normally perfectly
crafted hair lies touseled on his head, and his perfect cream complexion
looks slightly green. Silver-blue eyes watch me with watery concern, and I
see that the sleeves of his expensive white cashmere sweater are coloured
rust with dried blood. I look at him quietly, wondering if that blood is
Shae's.

	"Yeah, I'm fine," I say, looking down, unable to look at him.

	"I won't stay long," he says awkwardly, clearing his throat. "I just...
wanted to tell you... whatever... fight... was... going on between you and
Shae... well... fix it, okay? It's really.. hurting him."

	I glance at him quickly. "What do you know about it?" I ask quietly,
feeling quite admirably calm in the face of his presence.

	"Well," he says, running his fingers through his hair distractedly. "I know
that you guys kissed.. and I know that it meant alot to him, but he's scared
to tell you because he thinks you hate him for it. And... well..-"

	But I cut him off here quickly, sitting up and speaking icily, staring at
him with burning eyes.

	"Shut up, Jamie," I tell him, feeling a bitter taste rising in my mouth.
"Just... shut up. I don't need to hear this bullshit. If it meant so much to
him, then why the hell was he climbing all over you practically the very
next day? I saw you guys in his room... so don't fucking tell me that it
meant so much to him. I'm not stupid, and I wish you people wouldn't treat
me like it."

	Jamie stares at me for a bit, his mouth hanging open slightly, his eyes
bright with surprise. But he gathers himself together again quickly, and
stammers for words. I am unimpressed until he actually starts to make sense.

	"...that was because I... asked him to. Because I knew he needed to. And he
let me... I don't know why. But today he came over and talked to me, told me
that it was a mistake, and was practically in tears about it until I told
him that I knew it was casual, he didn't need to worry. He told me, and I'm
quoting it word for word: 'I just needed it and you were there. I'm sorry.'
But I knew that.. it was fine. I was just so.. astounded that he'd let me.
I'm so used to getting turned down by him. Everyone is."

	I must have looked very confused as he spoke, because he continues quickly,
wringing his hands in his lap in anguish.

	"He never lets anyone close to him... you of all people should know that.
That's why I wanted him to come over tonight. I didn't know he'd get so
freaked out about it. He was on his way back to talk to you.. when..
everything happened... "

	I shift slightly on the bed, staring at the blanket that covers me as my
brain tries to assimliate all this unexpected information.

	"Jere... look. I don't know why you can't see this... but everyone else
can..."

	I look up at him as he speaks, and he holds my gaze unflinchingly, his
words earnest.

	"Everyone that sees you two together knows how much he loves you. They take
one look at the way Shae moves and looks around you, and they know. Most
people ask me if you two are together, that's how obvious it is. I wish I
knew how you blinded yourself so well to it.. I wish I could make you
understand. But the other night.. when you.. saw us... it wasn't ME he was
seeing, Jere. That's why he had to stop.. because he was feeling you too
much.. and didn't think it was fair to either me or him. He felt so bad...
but eventually he let me push him back... made him close his eyes and think
of you. I didn't care that it wasn't me doing it for him... I just knew that
he needed it so bad. And I wasn't going to say no to him.. the hottest guy
on campus..."

	I try to find words. But I can't. I stare into Jamie's eyes desperately,
clinging to an edge that I can't quite define. I search his bright eyes for
some hint of deceit, and find none. But that hurts even more for some
reason, so I look away again, my heart pounding in my chest, my hands
feeling weak and my head lighter than air. Jamie speaks again, this time
more quietly, and I feel his hand slipping into mine.

	"You wouldn't have let me say what I've said if you didn't want it to be
true, I think, Jere. He's waited years for you... I never thought that he'd
get anywhere, but hopefully I am seriously wrong. Am I?"

	I can feel my chest struggling for air as I look up through sudden, aching
tears at him. God, don't be lying, I plead to him, feeling the whole world
suddenly start to change as his words hit home. His hand holds mine tightly,
and I hold onto his for dear life, afraid to let go and fall back into the
fathoms of fear and rejection that I've been living in for so long.

	"Yes," I say in a whisper, feeling my body shake as the admission releases
millions of demons out into the darkness of the place I've just left.

	He smiles at me gently, serenely, and hugs my arm lightly. "I hoped you
couldn't resist that angel... now, are you going to tell him?"

	I shake my head deleriously, wiping my tears away for what seems the
millionth time this night.

	"I.. I.. I don't know... can I? Will.. will I have.. a chance.. to? Will it
matter to him now?"

	Jamie smiles gently, and lifts my hand to his lips, where he kisses the
back of it gently before standing to go.

	"You will have a chance. And it will always matter to him, Jere. Always.
But as for if you can... that I don't know. I don't see how it could be
hard... open up your eyes and remember all the moments you've spent with
him. The intensity of his eyes... are only that intense around you. The
beauty of his body... is always fluid and effortless when you are around.
He'll kiss your cheek... which he doesn't do to anyone else. I've seen him
blush as he sees you during the day in class, and his hands shaking when you
look particularly sexy... which is all the time. I've opened up his binder
to copy notes down and seen the countless times he's scrawled your name
throughout the pages. When you get home, go through his school books if you
don't think it's being too... imposing. If you really want to know that I'm
not lying... open them. You'll see."

	Smiling sadly at me, he winks and leaves, closing the door softly shut
behind him, leaving me to blink tearfully at the empty space he left behind.

*	*	*	*

	"Jeremiah?"

	I look up quickly, in the middle of trying to pull a shirt over my head. My
doctor has his head around the door, a questioning smile on his lips. I
smile quickly back, and motion for him to come in. He does, closing the door
behind him, his white coat and stethescope glittering brilliantly in the
flourescent lighting that I've learned to hate intensely. Approaching me, he
helps me pull my shirt over my lame arm, grinning at my flustered smile.

	"Thanks," I say embarassedly, and he laughs, his kind blue eyes twinkling.

	"No problem. You're healing up quick."

	"Wish you could say the same about Shae," I say, sighing at him.

	His gaze grows serious, and he nods. "Yes, I know. We all wish we could say
that. But he is doing much, much better.. and this only the second day. You
may visit him before you leave, if you wish, but try to keep it to a maximum
of five minutes."

	My heart lifts and flutters as he says this, and I smile at him thankfully,
edging towards the door.

	"Thank you," I say, itching to leave. But he lays a hand on my arm, halting
me.

	"Wait a moment, Jeremiah. I want you to come back tomorrow, so I can have
another look at your shoulder. If it has worsened again, we'll have to keep
you another night. But for now, keep taking the anti-inflamatories and
pain-killers. And.. as for Shae..."

	I blink and look at him hurriedly.

	"I... I don't know if this will mean anything to you... but just before he
slipped into the coma, he told me to tell you that he was sorry about the
picture. He was.. rather insistant on it. I didn't know if it was some kind
of delerium..."

	I shake my head, feeling my chest start to feel funny again. "No.. it...
means something...to me," I say, looking down. "Thank you."

	The doctor nods quietly at me, and I slip out of the room, carrying the
coat that Brendan brought me on one arm, heading towards Shae's room, one
I've been able to look at through the window all night and day but not been
able to see inside. I've seen doctors going in and out of it frequently,
sometimes in two or threes. I swallow hard as I approach the blank, grey
door, and laying a hand on the doorknob, I try to prepare myself as I push
it open, feeling the world breathing and shaking all around me. Slipping
inside the twilight-filled room, I see Shae's still form lying on the bed,
his chest bare and his skin riddled with countless sensors, IV's in each arm
and the backs of his hands, taped there with an eerie white tape. Swallowing
again, I approach slowly, dropping my coat on the chair of the desk as I
pass. Distantly I hear the quickening beeping of the heart monitor above his
head, and I come to a stop at his side, trying not to pass out as I see his
face.

	He looks dead.. lying there so still... his face is so pale, completely
drained of colour. I grip the side of his bed as I feel my mind rebell
against the vision it sees, his hair fanned out on the pillow, some strands
of it still caked with blood, a mask covering his lips, pushing oxygen into
him. The mask is taped to his cheeks, and his lips are cracked and bloody
under it. I whimper as I look at him, noticing for the first time how
slender he is, how fragile and breakable. It seems like I could reach out
and touch him, and watch him break into a thousand peices. Without his
spirit moving his body, it becomes almost unremarkable and ordinary. My
heart weeps as I see this, and I want, more than anything, to lift him up
and hold him to me, protect him from the ugliness of everything.. of life,
of memories and pain.

	"Oh, Shae," I whisper, reaching out a tear-stained hand to lightly rest on
his cheek, letting my fingers rub slowly against against the chill skin,
feel the weird texture of the medicinal tape against my touch. I look down
and away from his face, straining to see through his hair. Just barely I can
see a bandage on the back of his head, a white patch of sterile brightness
amongst his dirty, bloody hair. I can hear him breathing, but it doesn't
sound like his normal breathing.. it sounds forced and very mechanical. I
shudder as I stare, unable to process this whole thing clearly. Feeling my
tears land like hot droplets of wax on my cheeks, I slip my hand into his,
squeezing its stillness lightly, holding onto it even as I hear his door
open.

	Looking around and trying to wipe away my tears, I come face to face with a
nurse, who merely smiles at me politely, and heads around me to the other
side of the bed, checking the IV bags that hang off to the side. I watch her
for a moment before looking down again, looking at Shae's closed eyes.
Closing my eyes, I try not to start crying noticeably as I hear the nurse
moving. Go away, I plead to her desperately, feeling my body start to
triumph over my mind. But then:

	"You must be Jeremiah."

	I open my eyes and look painfully over at the smiling nurse, who has long
red hair and a very feline face. I nod wordlessly and look back down to
Shae. She follows my gaze and smiles tenderly, reaching out a hand to brush
lightly against his face and through his hair.

	"He is very worried about you."

	I blink, and look up at her. She smiles, and gestures back down to him.

	"People in comas can oftentimes hear what is going on around them, they
just can't respond. Your other friend, Brendan, has come in here and sat
with him, talking. I couldn't help but overhear him speaking, and noticed
that everytime he mentioned the name 'Miah', Sheldon's heartbeat would
quicken noticably. Brendan even said that he felt Sheldon's hand close
around his for a second a few times."

	I smile tearfully down at him, and squeeze his hand again, not knowing what
to say.

	"He will be alright, Jeremiah, I promise you. He has a strong will to beat
this... he is already doing much better than we'd hoped. But I will leave
you two alone now... just make sure you tell him you love him." And with
that, she winks and leaves the room.

	I look down at him quietly, speaking shakily.

	"Hey..." I say, lifting his hand gently and pressing the back of it to my
cheek. The needle taped to his skin presses coldly against my flesh, but I
ignore it. "I... I don't know if you can hear this.. but... I... want to
thank you. I wish I could find some way of making it up to you.... even
though you are a complete fool for doing what you did..."

	Closing my eyes, I kiss his fingers gently, feeling my heart breaking
slowly.

	"You'd better get through this, Shae," I tell him brokenly, swallowing
painfully. "I need you to wake up so I can apologize for getting you into
this awful mess. And... don't worry about the picture, okay? It's fine...
I... understand."

	Slowly, I let his hand fall back onto the bed, and I lean over slowly to
kiss his forehead. His skin smells like antiseptic and blood, but I kiss it
anyway, letting my tears drip into his hair.

	"Wake up," I tell him desperately, kissing him again. "I need you to do
this..." I kiss him again and again, moving to his cheeks, his chin, his
nose, anything I can touch. My fingers find his again, and I hold them
tightly as I press feverish kisses to his face, shaking with words unsaid
and burning tears unshed. "I love you..." I kiss his fingers one by one,
trembling with sobs, whispering those same three words to him over and over
and over, until I can't say them anymore. Letting his hand fall heavily back
down again, I stand there with my head bowed, crying stupidly until I can't
take it anymore and I have to leave the room, heading home in a blinded
daze.

*	*	*	*