Sunday, 4 December 2016

To Miles 59

Dear Alex,

I love you.

I cried even harder not able to read the rest.

Shore leave was gone after that, I couldn't do anything besides just keep existing and waiting from letter to letter from Jamie. I kept thinking about Matt, who I happened to miss dearly and the conversation seemed to be escaping my mind and memory from the sole fact that I couldn't bear it any longer. I expected myself to be living like this when I'd be back on the ship and I had even created a story to tell my parents that things wouldn't be fine with Lana somehow, that I would somehow spill who I was. That somehow all would be okay. But it never would be, so it would be best to leave us all estranged. I didn't speak much, even the story about Lana fled my mind when my mom asked me what was wrong. She was surprised to hear how much I had missed Matt, feeling myself go pale from all the words I was uttering out loud and letting her hear, but she only told me that this was the way I should be missing my dear Lana.

I probably believed her for a mere second. If I had, things would be normal and there would be no struggle. But by the end it wasn't me who would believe in such crap, it was something sold to parents. I wondered why couldn't I open up and what was the big deal. It would end up going in circles and circles in my head, letting me rewrite it every single time with more misery, specifically when I would be waiting for sleep to somehow reach me. There were days where I wouldn't hold and I would want even more acceptance, I didn't want hushed whispers or full on denial, I wanted them to be happy for me and Jamie-

The biggest torture of all was the train back. It was like a terrible, terrible itch which wouldn't go away. I ended up buying some translated Russian poetry and a cigarette case, because I couldn't think of anything else. I kept opening my wallet just to peak at the newspaper cut out I had of Jamie, from that day which I mocked him for. He looked far too serious and I probably should've thrown it out, but it was just a newspaper clipping. At least that's what I told myself. I knew that someone could find it and all hell could erupt and it wouldn't do much good with all the facts that I had been sleeping with so many men, even if I were catching them. Or would that be okay? The scandal broke out because they realized the men themselves were gay. Just because I had a fake girlfriend, that proved nothing unfortunately. Anyone could have one. All that thinking gave me a lump in my throat, pondering too much on what could've happened even if they had called me on shore to report how things were going. But then maybe Jamie had done all the paperwork and all had been done?

I told myself to remember to ask that when I would see him, but instead I just went onwards to board the ship, right on the port, looking at all the other scattered sailors, all still in their uniforms and whatnot, ready to woo whoever they decided to lay their eyes on tonight. It felt nostalgic to be back and back in the uniform, specifically when you can breathe the sea. I couldn't really focus on anything. I couldn't give him the gifts yet either, unless I dragged the sling bag with me. It seemed like a good idea, so I just went inside the bridge, missing my own bunk bed a bit and if it wasn't for the fact that I had a boyfriend in the Captain I would have most likely slept in my bed for a small while.

I was surely shaking and I had the thought whether I should have found Brian at first just to ask him if I could find Captain Hince, but instead I was left with the fact that all the other sailors were most likely on the shore. I wondered if we could make a move somewhere as well, that we could stroll like we usually would, just avoiding the bars which were specifically made for sailors and the gay bars just in case. There were days where I truly wondered what had gone right, that besides Carlos no one really had their suspicions and if we were to bump into someone they wouldn't bat an eyelash. I wondered if it was simply because things were complicated enough as they were.

We had discussed this, that Jamie would be in his room waiting and I paused a bit before knocking on his door. How would I find him? Would he be reading? What would he be doing? I ended up knocking even without realizing it, my heart beating very fast and not subtly at all. The door opened nearly right afterwards, revealing my lover in his flesh, all dressed up neatly in his usual Captain attire, which I couldn't wait to unwrap him from.

“Alex.” He said and just stared at me before we both just threw our arms around each other, kissing already on the lips and cheeks, terribly hungrily and grinning through all of it. I wondered if he was crying, because I had tasted something salty on my lips and I wondered how harsh had he decided to be to the rest of the sailors and how many of them had to mop the decks. I wondered how come he wasn't harsher to Miles, right after we had finished kissing, my body still shaking.

“Are you cold?” He asked, holding me in his arms and just wrapping them tighter around me, kicking the door closed. I just shook my head, kissing his neck and not believing his scent back in my own arms. I ruffled the back of his head, what was revealed under his hat and I didn't hold and took it off, exposing his neatly done new haircut which was frankly everything he had done before. Jamie followed and took my own hat off.

“So... we're stripping already?” I smirked, even if I had initiated by removing his hat. Jamie just smirked, his eyes locked on mine, never stopping from a smile which had appeared even before he had seen me properly in front of me. I now pictured him just sitting there and waiting, something I had teased him that it would be like that.

“I just... want to hold you.” He confessed, running his hands through my hair, not touching the front which I had nervously done before leaving the house and fixed in the train. In such moments I wondered how could anyone even fit in my mind, let alone my heart. Why wasn't Jamie enough? He seemed plenty.

I didn't need to hear it twice, so I just took off my shirt off along with the undershirt right after dropping the bag onto the floor, not caring, exposing myself as if for the first time. The first time had surely gone somehow that we both wished it hadn't, but in the end everyone has their terrible ghosts. I learned to look at it through fingers, just like anyone else would look at their past with any other memory, embarrassed and wishing it would be gone

I went for Jamie's jacket and then for his tie and the rest, so that we could at least have some skin on skin. We started kissing again, this time more viciously, all the innocence gone and replaced with sexual hunger, as if we haven't touched ourselves all this time without thinking of the other. I slid my hand down to the front of his pants, feeling him go hard already, causing me to smirk and stroke him. Jamie mirrored my move, pulling me back into a kiss from smirking and looking at him. I moan into his mouth, as he unzips my own pants.

“I really thought...” I lean back and Jamie is practically glaring at me softly. “We'd have a romantic reunion, Jamie.”

“Nothing is more romantic than fucking you on fours.” He smirks lightly back, before leaning in for another kiss and this time sticking his hand into my underwear, stroking the tip of my cock very teasingly.

“Oh, so you've even got the act planned out, Captain.” I bite my lip, so that I don't moan right between my own sentence. But instead he goes down on his knees, his cock escaping my grasp. Jamie takes out my own and strokes it up and down. I have nothing to hold onto besides digging into his hair and destroying it already while he takes me in his mouth. “F-full of surprises, I see.”

Fuck, I am chatty today. Jamie just looks up at me before closing his eyes again, giving me a rush. He slides a finger inside me when he pulls my pants a bit down, teasing me even more and because we've been so much apart, his sole touch would be enough to send me into an orgasm frenzy. I can feel my legs shaking, as I get very near.

“Fuck. Don't you want to fuck as well?” I say weakly and heavily turned on, as Jamie just continues sucking me off and I lean my head back, moaning even louder as he works on me. “Jamie, I'll fucking

cum.” And I lean a bit forwards, my fingers digging into him as I come. I hold him, thrusting into his mouth as I even hear him gag, but I know him far too well and that only keeps driving me over the edge. I let go of him once I'm done, nearly tumbling, as he wipes off the saliva from his lips and swallows a bit gingerly, but not looking away from me, as I glance down to his own pant situation.

“Who said we're not fucking?” He asks me, nodding towards the bed. I just stare at him, trying not to be surprised at all at his appetite. I just take off my pants, still breathing heavily from the orgasm. Jamie strips down from his own pants, exposing himself as I give myself time to lay on his bed on my back. I take myself in my hands and start stroking already, terribly turned on mentally and soon enough my body should catch up.

I go on my fours and Jamie goes behind me as I do so. He starts kissing my back slowly from my waist and up to my neck, so I turn around and we share a kiss. Jamie spreads my ass, stroking me with his cock before adjusting himself in.

“Fuck, I missed this.” I say as he slides in.

“I missed you, Turner.” He smirks, very turned on and I can feel it.

“That doesn't make me miss your cock any less.” I breathe out very heavily, as he keeps the rhythm, thrusting as I stroke my cock. Jamie keeps pounding me, but we both don't last very long and I'm the one who comes first, not holding from his thrusting and my stroking, thrusting backwards to reach him more. He himself comes soon afterwards, nails digging into my hips, moaning even louder than I had, dissolving entirely in me. Jamie leans forwards, kissing my back again before he slowly slides out and we are met with a mess of cum as we lay down.

“I love you.” He says, grasping for air and pulling me closer, not giving me enough time to reply. I see water in his eyes. “I missed you so much.”

I put my hand to his eyes.

“I love you too and I missed you too.” I kiss his forehead as he rolls closer to me and puts his head on my chest, curling up besides me. I feel guilty for being the one who went away and who was in in turmoil by his own thoughts. I regret thinking of Matt so much and wondering if I should've pushed even more by writing to him more, but that could have ended up weird. But then everyone who knew that I was catching queers knew that I had to report back to Jamie, so would it have been that weird that we ended up bonding as friends, then? Sometimes we all push our luck, just to make it easier. It becomes just a tactic of desperation, because what else is left?

I hold him, feeling him incredibly vulnerable and I can feel every single day he had taken without me slowly start slipping through my fingers, letting the misery somehow go away. I look down on him to see him slowly start drifting away into sleep, his body never tense. I wondered if he could even sleep tonight or if he just stayed away writing poetry with shaking hands or maybe he just stared outside or even smoked on the deck. I remember that one time where we had gone out and talked a bit. It seemed now, looking back, as if that would be something which would have somehow ended up being okay, that it wouldn't be the dystopic reality we are faced with now. I stroke his hair, as he shifts in his sleep, clutching me even more.

I don't dare to sleep, not even leaving much for Jamie. In the end I wake him up lightly by calling his name. The Captain responds by sitting up, pulling the discarded covers with him now. He looks at me, bewildered from sleep and pleasantly surprised that my shore leave is long gone now and will be for a good while. He leans down to kiss me as I respond, holding the kiss.

“You think we should go somewhere?” I ask him, right after he yawns and rubs his eyes like a child. Jamie ponders on the question a bit longer with the fact that he's still asleep in my arms according to him.

“I don't know...” He's far too sleepy. If I wasn't crippled by the fear that what if I am spending too long with him in the daylight, I would be sleeping calmly besides him as well. “We could. Where do you want to go?”

The gifts.

Well, it's a stretch to call them something too fascinating, but I had tried and I walked into the same tobacco store a few times, making the owner probably ponder what was wrong with me and why was I taking so fucking long to buy them.

“Hold on.” I say and I get out the bed, making my way to the bag which was right next to his suit and my shirt. Jamie watches me curiously, as I take out the book and the cigarette holder. I stretch both items to him. I start babbling in my head, before I even open my mouth to apologize, but he looks at me just as excited as if Christmas is coming. “I'm sorry, I couldn't think of anything better other than this. And I've never seen you read Russian poetry... so I figured that you might enjoy that.”

“Thank you.” He says shyly and grabs the gifts and instantly opens the book, going through the pages, interested.


First of all, I'm terribly sorry that I vanished off the earth's surface again. I ended up terribly behind on Nanowrimo and I spent all my energy on trying to catch up and I would be writing 2k-4k every day because of that. It was really draining me and doing a toll. But the good news is that I finished the first part of To Miles! So now I'm taking a brief break from it where I'm thinking slowly of the subplots in part two. I need to think how it will go further and where will I end and of course there's a massive epilogue ahead which will I think be around two chapters itself, because there's just so much to tell there as well. I also wrote a lot of Offside which is a Jack White/Jamie Hince football AU since I finished the first part of To Miles. So that's what I did during my Nanowrimo. 

I'm terribly proud of the ending of part one, because it was planned probably from the first few chapters and was a scene I had even roughly written not to forget and to make sure that it would've fit in the story. But I'll talk about it more when the time comes of course. 

It felt very symbolical that my first Nanowrimo phrase was about ending shore leave and it was going to cover all of Alex's time after shore leave until the end of part 1. 

I'm not sure there will be much backstory to To Miles because I was really on autopilot and not much was going on in my love life which is really what usually gives me the biggest inspiration, so it was really my mind just telling the story and I had to get it done fast. 

The gifts were such a terribly headache because I can never really decide what to give people and I try to avoid choosing myself as much as possible, so Alex got the bad quality I have. Usually I just ask what do people want. 

For some unholy reason I've been shaming myself for being polyamorous for a good while now and kind of going in circles of how come is one partner not enough and how many partners can you even be entangled with? So I kind of went to think about it through Alex, even if I know his ending and of course what happens to all his relationships. So I really ponder a lot on it, because I don't really feel too comfortable hiding who I am from a very unaccepting family. It's not like my polyamory is the biggest secret, there's being trans and whatnot. But my polyamory had been dormant for years and kind of feeling emotions again made me question myself and all. 

I also suffered a pretty bad heartbreak with someone else during Nano which influenced me later in my writing, I think. I really tried to drown my sorrows and my biggest cure to heartbreak is to put myself out there and nearly jump on someone else. So I feel better now, so maybe in the future I'll open up more about it, but for now I'm pretty still sad about it. But Callie and my friends were there for me and I'm terribly thankful to everyone who was there. I hadn't ever been turned down so it was a painful first. So that heartbreak made me ponder even more why am I even poly and why can't I just stick to one partner but that's not how I work really. 

So phrases like "he seemed plenty" are really more of my insecurities and making Al question his own polyamory which if there was a scale would be bigger than mine, but who knows now. 

Originally they weren't supposed to be fucking, but here we are with a sex scene because I figured that I hadn't written one between them in a good while. 

Big shout out to Sonic Youth and Muse's early records because without them I wouldn't have finished To Miles part 1. And extra big shoutout to Sonic Youth's amazing song Diamond Sea! I have no idea how many times I've listened to it on repeat. It kind of even became a To Miles song for me. 

I hope you enjoyed it and you can forgive me.

I'll be posting the other chapters as well as the other chapters of Offside very soon! Please let me know if you enjoyed it and thank you so much for your support!



Sunday, 30 October 2016

To Miles 58

I didn't want to think that this could be the last time I would see home for a reason that I might just not be alive. I thought of other men telling how they had seen hell in war and it didn't matter what would happen anymore. I wondered if those who fought would go to Heaven or Hell. Would we be sinners for spilling so much blood? Me specifically as a gunner, I would be responsible for not just one death, but an entire enemy ship. Did that send me to a deeper circle of Hell?

I ended up knocking on Matt's door, greeting his mother who was just as happy and surprised to see me as if I had just come off the platform and just as if I was her own son, she inspected me to see how I had aged with her own eyes. Matt was deep in a nap, but I decided to wake him up anyway, after all the hassle of going up the same old stairs past photos of my dear childhood sweetheart. I ended up watching him for a brief while, as I was holding the door. I didn't know what to do as my whole body ached to just lay besides him, forget about all the other loves I've had and give in to my first one. Was the first one the true one? Was it really that one? Just because it had yanked me open?

I wake him up and sit on the other end of the bed, kicking my shoes off and just resting my legs on his bed. Matt looks at me sleepily and bewilderedly and by now I should be used to people's confusion, but that is still not the case for me. He just keeps looking at me softly, as if no other love stood between us and I end up shifting slowly to his side, as if it were yesterday again and we could continue the same kiss and somehow get much more. I don't want the hook up to just become a hook up, I don't want to remain thinking that I could have done more and I didn't.

He doesn't kiss me.

He doesn't say a word and I wish I could read his mind, so I lean and kiss his forehead just because life keeps going and there is never an ending until you die, life gives more complications and more twists and somehow much more love, depth and understanding, as if the novel was never enough.

What if he won't love me tomorrow?

I try to calm myself down and I hug myself, as he is still trying to even hold his eyes open and failing, I have to poke him a few times to make sure he stays awake. Eventually he falls asleep again and turns around, which causes me to just stare at the ceiling and eventually I close my own eyes and I don't even know where all this desire to sleep comes out from, but then I barely get any sleep with Jamie and I'm sure that with age it will catch up and I won't stay up as late anymore. I end up fading away thinking of how would it be later on, how will we continue sneaking around and if there was any hope for America. But there was no hope for queer men and nothing was even imaginable. It's some sort of consolation if you manage to go on with life without getting caught just like all the other men who came before us.

Maybe we were both stalling because we didn't know what to say. Was it really it?

We had slept until lunch time, at least that's what it sounded like with Matt's mom knocking on Matt's door. I still sat up fast and moved away from Matt, as she opened the door. But it wasn't a first that we had napped together and the benefit of it all is that no matter how hard you try people will still see it as friendship between two men. Of course in this case nothing had happened.

“Alex, will you join us for lunch then?” She asks politely and it was my turn to see how much she had changed. She seemed to be ageing well or possibly it was because I just saw her as Matt's mom and liked her always with that sole fact. Since we were best friends it was obvious that the parents would accept the other's child and slowly became friends themselves and now were both parents of a navy boy.

“Yeah, I'd love to.” I ponder if I should've given my own mother a call, but I'm not sure what the use would be at this point, I just hope that no extra food will go to waste. I shake Matt lightly as she walks away, leaving the task in my hands and I hope not to fail.

I decide that I can easily just talk to Matt afterwards even if I don't have the right words aligned to speak up. Lunch was taken quite slowly, mostly because Matt was still sleepy and I wondered if he had decided to go elsewhere after the dinner last night or maybe he just stayed awake. He had told me once that he would go through everything in his room nostalgically, and maybe yesterday was one of those nights or days. I thought that I would remember that, but eventually I decided that it's better to sort of pick off where we left off, because if he just kisses me like that what does that even mean? I watched his parents and they both stated that they were proud of us boys, serving the country and all, and that America would be safe under our guns and wings.

I felt guilty as Matt offered to go into town again for a drink, so as soon as we left the house we both lit our cigarettes. It felt like it would be dark, because it felt like we had slept to dinner time, but alas. It was sunny and warm enough for the current season.

I couldn't ask him if he loved me.

Or could I even utter such words out loud?

“Do you love me?”

“What kind of question is that, Al?” And he looks at me, to see me pale and ask it, a question which has weighed on my shoulders for years and seems to be like a pendulum, because I always come back to him. He looks away, inhaling and then down. “Of course I do.”

He looks back at me.

“Do you love me?” He ping-pongs the question. I nod before I speak, as if the letters would wobble in front of me. Matt doesn't even allow me to speak up and we continue walking under the trees which had grown over the years, just like we had and soon enough we'd get closer to the town. “But you're with another man.”

I can't throw the same back at him. I think he's single. And I am supposedly committed, but am I really when we had talked about us with other men? I think of Jamie briefly, because this is about me and Matt after all, so I discard my lover, as if he were a wedding ring. I feel like this conversation is slow, dreaded and far too painful, filled with different riddles where we hold hands and don't understand them at all in some kind of Wonderland.

“You still kissed me... knowing that.” I quickly pick up the pause.

“You're the one cheating behind his back.” He realizes how stingy that might sound. And takes the blame to only shift it onto me, making himself safe and glossy. “Sorry, that sounded far too harsh.”

I thought that I'd have the answer to that, but instead I just look down at my feet, exhaling the cigarette smoke, letting it mix with the feelings and I just think of the milkshake that I could get in town, but then maybe I should choose alcohol for once and switch subjects just for my own sake. Is Matt someone who I should talk commitment to? A man who had wanted a lady in every port? Was it somehow different because I was in a relationship with a man? Was it because word had gotten out that it was serious, since I had taken him out of a marriage? Was that the word out of the mouth? Was it really all that people had thought of me and were that a bad thing? But what did they really think of Jamie? I was surprised that word about Miles hadn't travelled. Maybe Matt saw me as heavily infidel because I had slept with him when I mentioned that I was into another man?

It had been so long ago.

Days come and they go, leaving nothing behind besides memories in an hour glass which somehow shows that death is coming but it seems to be taking forever and that is somehow no reason for alarm.

Matt looks at me, sadly, realizing that he had lost the topic and decided to ask me how was the ship, how was work and decided to leave it at that. We didn't kiss again.

We didn't kiss under the trees either. Just like I had imagined in my childhood.

I still didn't have much time to think. Me and Matt decided to act as if nothing had happened and he would avoid discussing Jamie all together, just eyeing me once when mom handed me a letter from a James Hince, who I said was a dear friend from the ship. I ripped open the letter, as I had read all the poems Jamie had given me, terrified that I had broken some code with Matt, so Jamie would've been angry or disappointed in me somehow. I read every word slowly, tracing his handwriting with my own fingers, as if I could feel him digging the pen in. I had cried that night because of two men.

Letters arrived late, but more than I had expected and I would reply to them right away, Matt with me in the post office and doing just one remark maybe I should've written to someone else to make it less suspicious, but then he looked around, to make sure we were alone besides the lady which was digging in a mail drawer, that perhaps I was right and we were immune.

After all, since we worked together, couldn't we have become close friends? It's always the close friendship which ends up being two guys fucking each other behind their wives' back only in our case, there was even a divorce involved and no wife on my end, besides a phony girlfriend photo I held just in case and with Lana holding her end of the bargain. I should tell her to start writing me letters far more often.

I went to bed every night with the mere thought that I should raise the subject again, no matter how hurt I was feeling and at least somehow manage to put it to rest, put it to peace. Matt dominated my dreams and I wondered what if I was in love with another Matt, with the Matt that was always there for me and wouldn't shy away from a subject and told me to go get whomever I had wanted. The Matt that I had kissed and slept with once. It all seemed like sole occasions, nearly ceremonial. By the time I finally decide that it's time to have the talk, it is a cold morning. I end up overdressing or maybe it's my anxiety rocking from side to side and I think of myself as a child on a rocking horse. I end up knocking on Matt's door very early, confused by the slow response time and I knock harder, until Matt's mom shows up on the doorstep all in tears. But she seems pleased to see me.

“Matt got called in earlier.” Were her first words through older tears, which I hadn't seen her cry. I take a step back, as if I were to fall down, but instead I just hold onto nothing, trying to keep my legs standing.

“Oh. Right.” She stares at me, wishing probably that her son had much more time with her than seeing me all these remaining days. But then Matt's shore leave had started earlier, maybe it was due for him already. Then her eyes shine up, recalling something. She turns back to get a letter from the window sill and she hands it to me.

Maybe I should've counted that Matt would be gone by now. I should've talked to him much earlier.

I don't know how to comfort her, but I do hug her and we hold onto each other. I wish during the hug, that she never finds out my feelings and the odd web between us. I don't think she would ever be able to stomach it since Matt had always shown interest in women, it was me who was the late bloomer to everyone. I had even shown the photo of Lana to all of our parents and an amused Matt, who just said that Lana was the perfect girl for me and that she does indeed miss me, but a certain time will come, he said, that we would both be reunited, possibly after the war.

The war had caused an eruption of talk, specifically what was going on in Britain, making summer's colour a popular blood red with disruptions of the living and dead. I'm sure the dead were shifting in their graves. But the topic was soon dropped, because all should be feared, if it's moving at a rapid speed and dominating everything on its way.

Matt and me discussed the war sometimes, but it was just something which was rapidly colouring our minds a dark colour and since we were navy, it would be a heavier war in our minds than combat, we wouldn't be out on the front, we'd be fighting everything in a different way, like we were trained and waiting for any second to be blown up while on the ships.

It was a different war, it was a waiting and more precise war.

I decided to go back home and turn on the radio just to listen what was going on, as if someone's death could somehow distract me and I decided to sit and listen, missing the reports which Commander Molko would tell us and now here I was, listening to the reports myself, hearing what was lost and how many lives we had lost.

I don't know why I decided to colour my worries with war, but maybe it was enough for me to cry under in my room.

I actually started thinking and wondering for once what would befall America and how the fuck would we get away from all of this. As much as I had no patriotism, I didn't want the lands to fall to Hitler and I didn't want anything gone like what was happening with Europe. And even if it felt like I would be doing nothing, it was better than just surviving a few days on the front. My mind was racing. How many days would one even survive on the front these days? I started crying even harder. Maybe this was all the fear I had been holding inside me and then I decided to rip open the letter, but my eyes were far too blurry to read it and I held it with trembling hands, seeing tears drip on it as I wanted to tear it to shreds and tell myself that one man is enough. No need to chase for a love which was long gone.


It's only fitting that in the honor of To Miles' 3rd anniversary I give To Miles a 3rd Nanowrimo shot. I actually wrote this quite a few days ago and I just didn't have the energy to post it and I was struggling to write, so I didn't get anything done. But with Nanowrimo rolling in, it's going to be much easier now to write because I'll simply have to. 

I get inspired a lot in the bad way if I watch something or read and then write right away, because my thoughts are crowded with impressions and whatnot. And that's how the first few paragraphs came to be because me and Callie watched Apocalypse Now and I was kind of left wanting much more, I probably expected it to be as good as Full Metal Jacket but I didn't get the bond, so yeah. But overall it just made me realize how interesting the Vietnam war was. Another weird thing is that we accidentally watched the extended version so that could've been it why I didn't really click with it so well. Who knows. But it still inspired me, so if you know what I'm talking about you'll find a reference. 

I kept pondering on how Alex would/could ask Matt when it came to whether Matt loved him or not and then, knowing Alex, I just realized that it would just be so straight forward so I went with it. 

I just kind of went forward and just kept sprinting and onwards, I'm really just trying to tell the story here and I'm excited to go further on with Nano, it's going to get exciting! Well, it already is, but I'll finally be revealing plots I've been dying to do for years!

If you enjoyed it, please tell me so and thank you



Sunday, 16 October 2016

To Miles 57

I wish I'd know what to do with him. I don't think of Matt much because I don't even want to converse to myself about it. I go to sleep with nothing but a haste kiss from Matt, as if we were very good friends, that a haste kiss on the lips would be some sort of handshake. I ponder far too much into the night of loves old and new, I fall asleep guiltily thinking that I should always be doing that to Jamie's touch.

The next day I wake up with the dream still lingering that I'm in school, somehow Matt has no idea of my crush and everything feels wrong with not wandering around a bunch of men whom I have a past with and have exchanged glances at least once and pondered if I could just feel their life trickle down my hands before I would utter his name. I turn around, still wishing that I could fall asleep in this old bedroom of mine, which I always visit on shore leave making mom and dad somehow happy. They never disrupt their schedule, making a pocket for me as if I had never left. I always wondered how come parents start playing such a small role in one's life. I wasn't one to think that I would be a father some day until I had discovered who I was, but if I were to think that I would even end up being a fatherly figure to anyone, would I be disappointed in knowing that the first years would be all I was given? And overall why do we give children so much credit when they just fade? Maybe it's just mine and me. I could barely recall the cards I'd be given on my birthday through out the years.

I loved them because that's what you're supposed to do.

Jamie doesn't speak much of his children, just like someone would avoid a divorce from someone who had believed in love for far too long, but sometimes he gets drunk and does and I wondered once before falling asleep how would I even be presented onwards, but I'd never be as easily explained as if he would've found another wife. And it was probably best that his children wouldn't know anyway, at this age I would barely know myself, so why would you try to understand someone else? And that someone would be your dad. I don't know how would I have reacted to find out that both my parents swung that way.

I wondered where did Alison's tale end and where did mine even start properly, where was it able to be told?

I turned around again and thought of Matt. What if he was an expired lover, where would he fit in and his whole blessing of me and Jamie? Were that really it after all the daydreaming and the one time sex we had? Was that all an empty echo of me screaming in the woods? Was I alone on that front-

I turned around again. I didn't want to think of war and how it would slowly be raised like a glass of wine to toast to peace which we're all clearly lacking and don't seem to ever achieve, like a bad expedition in a museum explaining what is wrong with our nation. I didn't want to think of it at all and I didn't want to come back and hear the sailors over powdered eggs say how America would surely survive Hitler and how we would destroy him in a day. I didn't want to hear any of it, patriotism long gone when I had discovered that I had just happened to be somehow queer in a way that the church would frown upon and would be something that I would never tell my parents and that's how the boat drifts from the shore.

Eventually I knew that I'd have to wake up and face breakfast and the sooner the better, not to disrupt anything. I wasn't sure that I'd be able to cook normal food again which wasn't disgusting and powdered or canned. I was positive that I would be overwhelmed by the scent and look of real food and how I'd be able to cook it. I ended up getting dressed in civilian clothes which I had left, which seemed odd because I would only touch them ever so brief.

Today wasn't the day when I'd even like to make any decisions and I hoped that I wouldn't get that in the form of food either. Thankfully, it was early enough, even in the weekend, to see my mom and dad be eating. They both seemed surprised to see me, as if they hadn't forgotten, but they still looked at me from head to toe, something going on in their heads about how much I had grown and it felt surreal to be somewhere far more spacious than a bunk bed and then progress downstairs to the rest of the house. It was in a way different from Jamie and Alison's house which was touched by children and Alison's obscure objects so it was weird to see two people who were hard working and had a son long gone in the navy. It was weird to be in a different looking home and soon enough the memory of the previous were erased. Mom offered to make me some eggs and I couldn't help but want to say how great that would be, but instead I felt shy in front of my own mother. As I waited I couldn't help but wonder again how much do parents drift and how many secrets I had held back away from them. I didn't know how they would feel about me being queer and that I had lured like a mermaid, men to their death-

I was a mermaid. Or was it a siren. I was a siren, only frankly I wasn't signing, maybe unless Carlos had convinced me once to be in his drag show. I wondered if in the next shore leave he would actually get some fabric instead of old bed sheets, because he had been complaining that we should expand our horizons clearly. My thoughts were a storm of their own. All of them mixing at sea.

But if I was a siren what would that make Jamie? A supernatural sailor who managed to breathe underwater?

I didn't ask those question to my parents and I was patiently waiting for a question which was something among the lines of have you ever managed to meet a nice girl on the shore and if so, where would you go from there? I had spoken to them briefly of Lana, in big fear that I might need something to confirm that photo I had held of both of us which was getting old and we would need retaking the next time we would meet. But then wouldn't that mean that sweethearts just held onto older and more older photos of each other? And I hoped that holding a photo of us both was alright. I ended up eating the eggs a bit too fast, too engulfed in the fact that food tasted like food really, and after a long period of eating things which were probably leftover mashed potatoes (or whatever the substance had been) from a month ago.

Mom kept asking me how has the navy been treating me and what was ahead, sort of tip toeing around war even if I could know that she most likely sat next to the radio every evening to hear a report and picture how it would all look like in all worst case scenarios. I would've done that as well if I had a child I cared about, no matter how close.

I think adolescence starts when you start holding secrets you can no longer tell, like Matt or my infatuation with Jack. Sometimes he would come back to me and I would recall how much I had lusted after that certain pilot, making me question how much I had wanted Matt. But I would tell myself even upon the another man's lips that I was melting because Matt was heterosexual and that had been it. I had no idea that there were some lingering thoughts. And now we were left as former lovers nearly and my own desire was asking me whether I had wanted to go further and if so, what had I wanted? How would it all be arranged and where would poor Jamie be? I heard of the sailors which Matt would speak of when we were growing up, who had so many girlfriends on each shore so that they would never meet and he would speak of them so fondly, so enviously, because he had wanted them, simply because he liked girls too much.

Did I want a guy on every shore? I guess I wouldn't mind the possibility but my love for Jamie and my desire to settle somehow with him, a desire Miles had once shared, was something which was new, shiny, foreign and was slowly creeping on my thoughts. I always thought that I would never manage with Alison and even now, how would that be pulled off? Maybe if we were close in ranks, but there was rank bias and an age difference. I drank my coffee quickly as well, as if I had wanted to grasp the day even if I knew that all I could buy would most likely be left behind besides a few books which could be squeezed into the coffin locker and somehow that would be sufficient. I should also bring Jamie some gift, which would be a bit smarter than wine. I could get him a novel of sorts, anything Russian I could get my hands on and I needed to guess something he hadn't read as well. I wasn't even sure that the selection would be that rich somewhere so small and away from a port.

I briefly wondered about the bars around, if I would ever have the guts to even approach another man with a sole intention that I really wouldn't want to travel around town. I suddenly felt ashamed of holding as many secrets as if I was holding a full deck of cards. I could've hung out around my parents but instead I decided that it would have been better if I made my way to town, as if the month would stroll fast and I was due Jamie a letter after the poems he had tucked in for me to read, not at once, but slowly and when I would be lonely. I hadn't touched them yet, remembering them now, as I had been far too immersed in the whole thought that I would be away from him for so long again. And this time no new resolution would be made, besides how much love gets stretched and torn but remains just as elastic with the new strains.

I went out to town, feeling like a kid again and I felt anxious, just browsing and wondering what to even do with Matt and maybe I should've called him over and enjoyed the day with him, but then maybe Jamie was right and I needed some recollection of my own, that I needed to look back and reflect. I had been building a web and I hadn't looked back at all. And overall I had been way too tired for anything, so my memory had been getting worse.

I felt like I should've just stayed back home in bed and curled there, reading all the poems, but instead it was like I wanted to torture myself from not reading them, as if all of a sudden I could forget that I had loved someone so dearly and for a while now. The stores just seemed the same only catching up with the latest trends which I had not seen and I peeked at the store fronts with dresses to see what I could get for Carlos, what he could've asked for and what could I do a mock for or actually be serious. I even had a kid bump into me with a slingshot, making me realize that I had probably stared far too long. I wondered who had done Karen's dresses and how she had managed to make them so pretty but then my attempt had been bed sheets and I barely tried.

I ended up emerging from the book store empty-handed after I had realized that they probably had the same that Jamie had on his bookshelf and for a long while I sat on the bench next to the drug store with an older woman, thinking what could I get him as a gift and maybe wine wouldn't even be such a big bad idea, even if it seemed highly predictable and was something which wouldn't last us both too long. I just wanted to give him something that he would keep longer than a wine bottle and nothing besides a new lighter or a cigarette holder came to mind as well, as I would recall my own mother saying how hard it is to choose a gift, let alone one for a man. It wasn't about it being for a man, but rather for someone I held dear.

I watched the older woman from the corner of my eye and the kid with the slingshot which was still running around with a friend, not really using the weapon, probably waiting while his mom or parents were in a store. Or maybe it was a sibling, who didn't look much like him. I wondered how were it to be a kid again, but there was far too much I enjoyed now, sex included, which I wouldn't give up and kind of being away from the idleness and holding everything in myself wasn't something I would look forward to again. I still would tell Matt a lot and he knew too much, but I didn't want to be alone again with my own thoughts and guilt.

So that depressing thought had to be shoved away. I left the bench, causing the old lady to look up at me. I decided that maybe I should check the lighters and whatnot, even if it didn't feel very thoughtful and I had given him a notebook already, which he had slowly and carefully started going through. Sometimes recently he would stay up a bit after I would fall asleep and I could hear him scribble, nearly in the dark, just something and I wondered until the hours would come where I had to wake up. Mostly he wrote in the day when he was done or while he was waiting for me, in breaks with reading, but recently even that had been taking away from his reading. Maybe he was on a boring chapter? I wasn't one to admit being a muse, but as I smiled slightly, looking at the reflective lighters in the shop.

Maybe I should've even brought Matt along and I wondered if it was even alright to drag a former lover-

Was he even a former lover? What was Matt anyway? I ended up going back home emptyhanded or rather going back home, stopping right before Matt's place and wondering how much would his own bedroom echo mine even if I had been in it numerous times over the few years. It would remain just like mine untouched by time, allowing our moms to hold everything the way it had frozen by the time we had decided to join the navy.

And even if I dragged Matt would've that been okay? Or was this a gift I should've chosen by myself? Of course it was, but I just felt lost and I could only imagine that Jamie would possibly get gift advice from Karen who would mock him horrendously, probably saying that he should get me a dildo or something to spice it up.


I've had another mental health leave. And I don't think I've taken a month off in a while, usually it's days and days, but anyway. It happened and I'm terribly sorry, I'm just so tired because I binged 1k just now. 

I've got good news (if you're reading this of course) I'll be doing To Miles for my Nanowrimo this year in honor of its 3 year anniversary and it's going to be my 3rd Nano with To Miles as well. I'll be honest I'm terribly anxious and tired xD But hey, it's going and it's happening! So in order to get ready I decided to get back into writing by writing this monster and I've got an outline planned out for Nano, so let's all sit and pray that I get to the end of part 1 of To Miles this Nano. A lot of things ahead and frankly, a lot of things finally ahead. 

This was mostly binging rather taking things from my life or inspirations to be honest and telling and letting Alex just talk about what's in his head rather than my own. 

I had a dream where no one knew my name and I would get called by my birth name, so that was an unpleasant dream, but I guess it's a regular nightmare for anyone trans. 

I really like some bits which are sort of left untold in To Miles like Jamie's children or the state where Alex lives and locations, it's funny because I really hated the whole thing in Russian literature as I would study it in school how they would leave it anonymous or call a city X and so on and it was very repetitive and I had an essay on it. I would really enjoy analysing things and overall you do a lot of essays in school. And somehow, I'm being hypoctrical by using it myself, because you can just make the location yours really. But in this case since it's sort of told from under Alex's pen and a memoir, it's more for protecting certain things and leaving some things untold, not really an unreliable narrator though. 

I mused on my own polyamory and that seeped through into the story. 

I hope you enjoyed it and are as excited as I am. Thank you for all your support.

If you enjoyed it please feel free to tell me so. 



Saturday, 10 September 2016


Clutching the last rays of sun for the day feels like plucking out daisies and wishing for someone to end up loving you at the end of the day. And nothing feels eternal, everything feels like it's dying and somehow everyone around feels calmer about the incoming doom of colder weather, everyone talking about how great it's going to be once the fields will be covered in snow, when the lakes are frozen and the fucking ponies will look horrified as ever. I roll over onto my stomach so that the houses are in view and I dread the passing summer, which was all mostly tucked in football practice. In the end it's something like all you've got. The surroundings feel very agoraphobic, as there seems to be no end in sight and there's kilometres until the nearest big town with a grocery store. It all becomes either a question of the bus or nagging about the car or a usual bike ride, because who doesn't mind killing around two hours here and back when the sky isn't pitch black and seems to have forgotten how the night looks.

It's about always having the same friends, which will gossip and hanging out at those who have the loosest parents which will allow alcohol, just because their parents had done the same and then it's all about making alcohol loosen tongues and sometimes it's bitter, sometimes it becomes a sour discussion of 'did my ex even love me anymore or did they ever?' Sometimes it's a very bitter remark and a few odd looks, but by the end it's just about drowning one's misery and my tongue isn't better than theirs and we just remind of small circles of society which lie in the neighbouring houses of perhaps the whole county.

The end of summer is like losing love. It happens so slowly and miserably, that when you look back you ask yourself if you were ever in love and it's not even something you want to think of. It will make you think of love you've even long lost. It's full of regrets. I roll back onto my back, so I can see the sky and I feel all the distractions of the weather arrange my thoughts in a chaotic order, allowing nothing to properly be thought of, because all is a deja vu and all answers were gotten last time, when I thought of an ex and I asked about it out loud and that had been enough.

Because someone else's drunk haze can be clarity and belief for me. And everything else will be a nuisance. I lay and watch the sky, how the clouds run fast with the tint becoming grayer and grayer and even some tears strike down from the sky, scratching the surface of the grass, but I pay no mind, until I finally hear some thunder and I decide that even if I were to play football in the rain, that gives no motivation for anything else. I walk back to the house, away from the lake, watching it and wondering how would it even feel to be struck down by lightning while rowing if that would even happen. I think about even taking the boat for a while and while I stand thinking, the rain stops and I just decide to kill time inside.

I wonder if roomming with people is just as bad as with parents, where you don't even drop by to say hello, just wander in and out, politely stating it at the beginning of the day during breakfast and the rest is just formality, where I'm supposed to behave and bring good grades, which sometimes doesn't happen and as the years start rolling by, I don't even know where does the rest go. I don't like thinking about the future, when the bubble ends of being in the same household. It's not that I don't want to move out, it's that I don't know what I'll do at all.

As I get back to my room, being on the unmade bed depresses me, staring at the empty ceiling with a few cracks. It reminds me of the age of the last time we had everything refurbished and all I know is that if I count aloud enough, it'll be time to get ready for the bus. I allow myself to slip away and soon it's time to pack, shoving the football shoes into the backpack and changing gingerly into the sports gear, reminding of an impending winter. I don't even bother to say goodbye, just not to interrupt any word which could be said from the reality TV show my parents are watching to kill time, like the rest of us. Neither do I ask for a ride into town.

I leave, walking slowly to the bus stop, looking around and mourning the death of summer for sure. Even if it's been a few days which had taken summer away already and locked it, it feels enough of a reason to be wearing all black and mourning. Once I'm out of sight, I take out a pack of cigarettes from my backpack and soon enough I get the lighter, flicking against the cigarette a few times before it catches fire and I can breathe easily. I turn around, just to make sure that I'm really alone among the trees. It's just the melancholy chasing me.

The bus is late as usual, but I am no longer going through my cigarette, so I just have to kill time kicking whatever had been left on the road from the trees or discarded items, looking around to make sure that no cars are around, as I even kick a lost registry plate. I wonder who had lost it for a brief while until the bus arrives and when it does, I look around briefly, so that I won't be disturbed in the middle of it, but the rest of my team rides different buses or gets a ride or just bikes their way into town.

In buses usually I sulk thinking of the long lost, how this year it'll be different with Brian not showing up on the other side of the fence, holding it and watching the game unravel and sometimes supportively say something when my team would score, but it rarely happens that I score, so I would understand his boredom from watching a midfielder, but he still would. My parents would show up back when I was a kid to the bigger ones, but that soon enough changed. I dreamt of taking the train to a bigger team, but some things just don't happen and I still enjoy it deeply, probably happy of living in a brief bubble which will break by the end of this year.

Sometimes I feel so idle that I contemplate ending everything, as I either row in the lake or sit by it, lying and feeling lazy enough to stretch my arm and feel the water. But I never have the guts and somehow I manage to get by day by day, even if I have no motivation to go forwards.

I have a desire to get another cigarette as I get off, but instead I just make myself go towards the field, slowly increasing my pace, to make sure that I'm not late and that I don't have to kick off my shoes as I'm walking. I look back, chewing on my bottom lip, to see that indeed my bus being late as usual made me the last one in most likely, and anxiety rises a bit. When I just started, I was aware of the bus being constantly late so I would pester my parents to drive me here. I was much younger as well, and I hated being behind in anything, even if I wasn't the brightest student in school. I was terrified, so I would study and now that fear is hanging above me again and since it's the last year it's even worse, with the pressure of everyone getting in somewhere and I would just avoid the subject with my parents.

There were some rumours here and there about people scouting our team if we were good enough, but sometimes I was so scared that I didn't want anything to work out, I just wanted to lay in the grass, hit by someone and allow the pain absorb my body and just keep watching the guys screaming at each other and somehow, nothing would change. That's what I wanted.

I wanted to be left alone, sometimes I didn't even want to play.

I keep walking, as I hear someone's fast footsteps behind me. I turn around to see a rather tall guy with curly hair. If I were him, I would look around to make sure the confused stare is aimed at me, but instead he knows that it's aimed at him.

“Hey, hold on.” And he motions to his own backpack, as if hinting that he might have something in it that would be my interest. I pause and wait for him to catch up. The tall guy just stretches his hand and points at my football shirt. “I didn't get to change yet, but I got it done.”

And he reaches for his backpack and right under the shoes, I see the bright orange colour of our team on his shirt. I blink, realizing that the striker and goal keeper indeed moved on, one went to become a doctor and the other went into economics or some other crap, which only made me ponder how come they even liked football in the first place. I kind of pictured everyone else just as lost as I am. At least the guys who I talked with on the team were like that, quiet and frankly only loud about who was better, Messi or Ronaldo. He grins at me, but I seem far less excited than he had expected.

“I'm Jack.” I glance at his shirt and indeed it does say Jack, which makes me ponder what would his last name be and how come he decided to push his first name on the shirt.

“I'm Jamie.” I say and think of a stupid comment on both of our names starting with J but I let it slide, just watching him curiously. After all it is another guy on our team and even if putting football asides, it's better to have another guy to think over, even if it will be a solid evening only, it will be at least something and have some quick play of whether he could be queer. Jack shakes my hand rather firmly, but all I do is start walking and he does so as well, without a need to catch up. I start feeling tense all of a sudden, just because there is someone new.

We start getting closer to the field and it's a mixture of guys already in their gear, while others are changing into their shoes and everyone seems to have decided to show up earlier besides us and one more, I believe. Someone could've just gotten lost in the same predictable streets of the town or on the way driving from a smaller town. We approach them as even the coach seems excited about the new striker, everyone quieting their bickering and eyes on. But it wouldn't be a bunch of assholes playing football if one wouldn't have opened his mouth.

“So you've met the queer then.” And word spreads quickly, maybe it had even been my mom who started the whole gossip round, saying that Brian was over and we were making out on the bed, which had her catching us. Then that lead to awkward conversations where I stated that I might possibly not like girls after all. There was just a sigh from them, as if they were disappointed in a gay son. It was better than what I had expected or what had been uttered from the mouths of few or the looks I'd get from the parents as if it were contagious.

“Hey, what did I tell you, we're all tolerant here. It's football, not some heterosexual division.” The coach quickly picked it up, but the problem is that the damage is done, I'll be known as the queer again, just because Alex had decided not to keep his shitty mouth closed. It's not like he meant much harm, but it's really a question of how can you not filter what you speak? I just bite my lip and give him a pissed off look, to which Alex shrugs and I look back at Jack, who seems to be dazing out while staring at me. I don't even know where he's from. But instead he snaps out of it, probably due to politeness. It's not like we talked even. He does slightly open his mouth to say something, but instead the coach catches up and starts telling us to warm up even if the goal keeper isn't here and I can still feel Jack staring at me as if I were an animal in a zoo. Well, the local queer.


This son of a bitch was so horrible to write. I had the idea of writing something about football for a really really long while and frankly I'm envious of those who know enough about football players to write about them, but alas I'm not one of them so I'm doing an AU of someone who I studied plenty. 

I also struggled thinking who to write it about and I was on the fence of Jamie/Jack or Milex. But I haven't written about Jamie/Jack in a really really long while and they're really high up on my pairings list, so I wanted to renew them and just give them a new story and one of the basis was the fact that I missed a story called 500 which I wrote a while back.

I really wanted to capture the small town feel which I didn't have in other stories, since I live next to one currently, so I wanted to squeeze out the setting. Also what helped me a lot was hearing an ex-crush talk about how it was to grow up in a small town, so those stories stayed with me long enough to write them down. There's some saying that never break up with a writer because they'll write about you or something like that, so there you go. I recently started thinking about it, because I'm half single and it was the first long crush in a long while, so that kind of came back and after I wrote that paragraph and talked about it briefly with Callie to calm myself down, it was gone again because a while had passed. 

I really overdid it with the setting I guess, because I really wanted to capture it and it's really long. 

The daisies was actually written as I was thinking of the beginning of You're Not Coming Back Again. 

I quite like the moment where Jamie asks about whether he had been loved and it was something which struck me down for days until I got the courage to talk about it and then the story takes a turn after I got my answer. I really have been writing this for a really long while, possibly the start of the month. I just kept getting tired and I would just write a few sentences here and there. 

I never had the lost feeling of where would I go when I was growing up. I kind of always knew, it was life which screwed me over and gave me other plans, but sometimes I'm left now with a what now and where will it all go. So in a way I guess I relate to teenagers with the whole sense of where will life take me now, but then I think we all have this sense of weird direction or unpredictable rather. 

I struggled with the plot. I wanted it to be love focused of course, just like anything else I write and I had to answer the question fast how would they meet and how would everything happen. It's actually turning out different than what I was expecting. But we'll see. 

I had the "you met the queer" idea for a couple of days and then I didn't know what I'd write, so the chapter usually ends when I don't know what else to write or have an idea of the next few scenes. I never plan much ahead, besides To Miles possibly. 

I got kind of tired of writing non accepting parents and I liked the whole being disappointed somewhere I got told about, so I used that. And I just wanted to write something which wouldn't deal with parental acceptance, because it's such a big theme over my works, so I wanted not to care about it for once and kind of show how it's supposed to be, well, minus the disappointment. 

I have no title, I'm still discussing it with Callie because I have no ideas. I just googled football terms to be honest.

I hope you enjoyed it and if you did, please tell me so because this was really a nightmare to write.

Thank you for all your support



Sunday, 28 August 2016

Relationship Values 9

I don't think people think much of the person who does the break up, because we are always portrayed as villains and there seems to be no notion that we are breaking up from the inside or from those who just walk away. Or maybe I'm just trying to make myself feel better in a way. Because if you don't make yourself feel better, no one will. I don't think people understand the grief of being the one to do the final shot and to actually shoot something living. It's like releasing the spider to bite you sooner, it's being the one to pull the plug, because it's better to break up than to be broken up with. Because from that time, you don't see the other person as an item with yourself and you see all the quirks which irritate and that's all. It's stepping back when you weren't an item and before I had fallen in love, only now there's no love ahead and the glasses are long broken with the pink glass under one's heel.

I grasp onto him, as he gets my hair out of my eyes, so that it doesn't get drenched in tears and I just stare at him, gasping for air in the midst of a hysteria and watching him.

Why does the love never go away?

Why is it never a love story between us? Why is there a tainted past?

I want to be the one to pin him down, I want to be Jack and now make love to him.

I realize how messy I am with my hair, my shaking hands and my desire to feel his love again. But I still clutch him, as he pulls me closer, but I lean back, so that I can have a good look on what I'm missing and age barely touches him, he looks different on his Facebook photos, which age him and photos never did him justice. I start hiccuping and I don't let him go, grabbing onto his arms, as he tries to stand up.

“I'll just get some water for you, Alison. It'll be alright.” And that causes me to bawl even more. I'll never know if he even loves me anymore. I just tell myself that now he's holding me in his arms and it's not like he's avoiding my calls like he once did. Somehow my hysterias just get cut off short sometimes and I let him go, my breathing easing, but I still remain under the counter, pressing my head against the table and wondering if I could even tell him about Lana, even now. I don't know how does pure honesty trigger someone back in to sleep in the same bed, though.

It's as if I make a deal with myself that he'd get back to me or even consider, if I were to tell the damn truth for once. I just would paint Lana as a villain because I loved her too much to even state something else, because I couldn't face myself to say anything else other than filth and lies. Jamie pours some water and quickly gives it to me. He motions for me to drink it, as I just stare ahead, both hands on the poor glass. Jamie keeps standing and I just stand up myself, shaking and even spilling some water, but instead we are caught in an insane stare, as if his anger came back and he knows, coming back here, that I have never changed and I'm still the same, while he had made a living for himself.

I don't even know where to start.

I rub my eye and get mascara on my hands, as I sniff, looking down on it.

“I really loved you.” I don't look up, biting my lip. “Who am I kidding, I still love you.”

I see Jamie shift from one leg to another and I can't stand to even look at him in the face.

“Yeah, I choose you because you would never charge me. I'm literally fighting nail and teeth for this, I don't need more of my saving going elsewhere.” I keep looking down and wondering if he even wants my honesty, why am I crying about Lana and confessing to another man. “But it was mostly...”

I look up to see him concentrated and just as sad as I would like him to be.

“Mostly...” I loose my trail of thinking and sigh, rubbing my eyes. “Because I wanted to talk to you again. Even if it were just for a few days and you would never talk to me again. Because... it's like choosing to meet the love of your life-”

He tenses up.

“Once and for one day than not meeting them at all.” I sniff. I close my eyes, knowing what's about to happen next.

“You asked for a divorce on one morning, Alison. No explanation, nothing.” His own voice breaks and I can't stand to even look at him. “You claim you want to be alone, but you barely leave the house anymore. You've started drawing less and less-”

I start crying again and my hands are glued to my face. He doesn't touch me either because he doesn't love me or on the opposite loves me far too much.

“You haven't done a show in a while, you're still living off that one successful show you had, you sell some paintings here and there, but you're not doing anything big. Nothing like you've stated I was holding you back from...” I hear him do one step towards me, but my eyes are too blurry to see and I keep gasping to even hear him clearly. “Maybe you should've just admitted that-”

I'm sure Jamie is choosing the right words, making a break just to ruffle everything twice in his head.

“It was never what you wanted?” And he asks and he's hovering near me, as I put my shaking hands down and I want to desperately-

Let us be in a lie.

His hands are on both sides of me and he's caught me again. I look at him, trying to see any other outcome with his hands like this, before I fucking lean closer, my whole body trembling for his touch. I search for something else in his eyes, anything,

but he's just as desperately broken as I am.

We consume each other, hungrily and I don't even remember the taste of any other kisses, as this one just manages to shield them all. He grabs me and I know everything he's saying through kissing me, teeth, tongue and lips. It's not that the world gets painted black, it feels like a death kiss of desperation, when you know you've got some impending doom, but it lingers like an underlying taste, with his hands in my hair, as he keeps on kissing me, pushing me further against the counter, then breaking the kiss just to travel to my neck and suck on it.

I pull his hair. He doesn't stop and I moan. Both of us paralyzed at the sudden display of noise, but he eases, kissing my neck softer and probably now with his eyes opened, wondering what have we both done.

What have we done.

I regret not holding him on my lips, as he just kisses my neck one last time.

I regret not memorizing the kiss with the most lust I've seen, but he leans back and we're both heavily breathing. We would never have this while we were married, everything was happy and idyllic.

Jamie brings a hand to his mouth, as if trying to see if the kiss was real, as he just watches me, never looking anywhere else.

I could never find us in books, because no one would bother to write a queer couple. Now, I see. I just breathe heavier, because now we're both faced with a future where we decide where do we go now.

I still don't even know how to even admit to myself that I need him. I'm not ready, but I want to kiss him again, so where does the truth actually spit lies? Where is the lying truth? It's as if we could both call it a night to sleep on it.

I look at him.

It's only always me who needs the night to think.

I need to break him out of his bubble.

“I... Can't.” I say and he just sigh heavily, tensing up and crossing his arms. “I lied to you.”

Jamie tenses up even more.

“Not about us.” He eases.

“Lana.” I say and then my throat goes dry, as he just watches me confused. I raid the counter behind me for cigarettes even if I damn well know they are in my pocket, so instead he just stretches out a pack from his own pocket and hands me one. Then he fishes out the lighter from the same pocket, clicking it a few times before the flame finally emerges and then he allows it to lick the cigarette tip, before he gets one for himself just in case.

“What about your sister?” Jamie asks completely lost and bewildered still from the kiss.

I'm no longer crying and I think I've got a hickey on my neck from my ex-husband.


I was actually avoiding updating a different story which I've been super struggling with for a good while now and I felt like listening to Marina and the Diamonds so then the question arose, which story would be fitting and Callie suggested RV which kind of caught my eye. When I have no idea which story to pick up, Callie always comes to help me out xD 

I wrote this in one sitting and I'm sorry that it's a bit shorter than the previous chapter, but I quite enjoy how it turned out and whatnot. I kind of really went not knowing where to go and just kept writing and story telling, until I knew that I wanted them to kiss and Alison to speak about Lana. 

For some reason I've been recalling my previous relationship which was years ago, because I stumbled onto an old Arctic Monkeys song which reminded me of her (crazy times when I had a girlfriend, before I knew I was trans and gay) and I broke up with her because I couldn't take it anymore and kind of all that thinking gave way into the first chapter of this story. 

I listened to Marina all up to their kiss, which I think shows very explicitly when I was listening to The Cure xD I've kind of been on the topic of coming back to old lovers when it comes to fanfiction and whatnot, so it's been quite a reaccuring theme which I've been exploiting to the maximum. 

Jamie playing with Alison's hair and the overall hairplay came to my mind because of a gifset where there's Jamie fixing Alison's hair and Jack White as well. 

I like having Alison as nonbinary, which is just a headcanon I have and kind of I like writing the bloke and nb dynamic because I am in one with Callie so of course it strikes home for me. 

Callie is my editor and she nagged that I should write a bit more to make the ending far more dramatic than Alison just saying Lana's name, so that's where Jamie's sentence was added and I left the hickey line last because it was a good ending in my opinion. 

I'm super tired after doing this sprint and posting it, so I may have left out some things simply because I got tired xD

If you liked it, please tell me so:)

Thank you so much for your support