“I knew they would talk, but I didn’t know they were friends...” I pause. “But Julian knew Carlos from somewhere.”
“Oh... then childhood friends, perhaps?” Jamie smiles, amused as the lady catches colour in her cheeks, if her husband were not to speak, at least we would and she would have a silent conversation about men she would never know. We seem to be entertaining her and I wonder, but I still add.
“Well, Carlos has a wife.” I mutter and Jamie just nods.
“Maybe they met through Julian.” And I think we had slightly made the night, as we get the main courses brought to us and I just watch Jamie for a while, as I notice that he holds his fork in the left hand and I look down to my right and I wonder how long ago had his family moved from Europe and how fresh was he, since I always seemed to trace a soft English accent, but I figured it had moved from family onwards, but then you would never know, really, how far had one’s genes gone to reproduce and leave heritage to perhaps break off, it was always something which graced my parent’s mind and I wondered what would I even say, since I could surely not have children from any of my lovers and I wondered what would come of Karen and her lovers. And I wondered who of us would even end up with children and I wondered how much hidden would I be from Jamie’s children and what else would’ve been played behind his back and from his own fingertips and he would be calling the shots, how loud would the laughter be and how much would it be muffled by the yelling?
I don’t even know who should ask the right question, because even if we were to speak of her, she’s always more than acceptable and of course you would tell your buddy, because after all what happens behind closed door to a non-seeing society sometimes doesn’t matter, just Carlos knew where the keyhole was-
Maybe he and Julian were flirting or fucking, but it wasn’t for me to know and I tried to push Julian away from my thoughts as I kept trying to catch him, but I would dodge his kisses, trying to find someone else as if my sexual act was something like a Judas’ kiss and it was and I wondered if Jesus was tainted in this case and for some reason Hince seemed to resemble Jesus and would Miles be God then, since he’s the itch and treason we all have written in our wrists, tucked into our veins and immersing ourselves to drown and be yanked out by each other, by a lover’s sutler kiss.
It seemed to rain even heavier as it would echo across the restaurant regardless, the windows open due to the heat coming from unenterntained couples, consuming air.
I recall how I had seen Alison for the first time, how striking she seemed even with her veil of cards which ended up being her flesh, how striking she was unlike her husband who seemed to only get more attractive with time, they seemed a bit opposite with Alison’s striking raven personality and Jamie’s being bitter at the first sip with his short height and canonically unremarkable features, he seemed to get better with the days that passed, confusion going around with his myths of illusions he would sell at being colder than the depths below but being something more pleasant that the sky wrapped in the silk of the stars.
And it seemed odd to have something strong and mutual for once, not have my own feeling exposed as a bare bone and have no fucking idea what had Matt felt and even now it seemed to grace my mind with odd suspicion, as the dinner goes on and our eyes seem to be the ones which talk with shaking hands cutting the meat, silence seems to be talking and agitating the tension even worse than we ourselves could even take it by our own words. I go through names in my head, the couple ordering a second portion of desert and I wonder if this day could be a novel in itself with it’s own length-
I’ll miss him far too much, when we would cuddle or we would silently read whatever we were reading at the moment, because from one book, Jamie’s speed would be far too fast for my own regardless if we had perhaps read the same amount of books, Jamie explained that Miles had read even faster but he would admit to skipping paragraphs just to get to the bits he had found exciting and maybe that’s when we had allowed Miles to be a memory of an old lost friend who still somehow remained dear in our hearts regardless of all the steps he had taken back and how our waltz turned from something conservative to contemporary where I had no idea where the moves were going and why were we switching partners in an ironic twist of lemon fate. I perhaps pressed the fork too heavily into the meat that I noticed the sudden noise and I raised my eyes and sigh.
Perhaps I need no names.
“Would you still have hope if the letters wouldn’t come?” Jamie scans my eyes at the sudden question, before he realizes that I wasn’t really talking about him and he puts the fork down, looking at the knife, wondering through his own path and thoughts, it felt as if we had been reading the same books and neither of us had known the ending of any, only the fact that we could write our own. He cuts a piece out, still thinking and before he puts it in his mouth he does say.
“I think so. Sometimes, you have to look at the actions you are given... Like Lana herself is an action.” He looks at the now intrigued woman now and I wonder if we could guess her age, but my back is turned to her and only Jamie can give and take her age to let it be a dice roll with no fortune whatsoever. My lover notices that it still doesn’t seem to bring peace to me. “Apparently both of you seem to be in turmoil.”
Jamie pauses and catches the woman’s eye who looks away, he looks down.
“I think... she-” He drops the wrong pronoun deliberately just to attract attention to the wrong things and I just bite my bottom lip, holding a smirk, but Jamie holds his cold expression, speaking as if it were something more traditional and sacred for us to hold rather than something we just hold hands with in the alleyways for no one to see or hotel rooms overbooked with our thoughts, sins no longer among us, but doubts and if we are, then we are in the circles of hell, we are being judged already for who we are and who are they to tell us we are not in hell if we are judged, forbidden and ridiculed and physical torture isn’t the worst punishment. “Just like you, is confused. I think neither of you realized how deep each other’s feelings ran from what I gathered.”
Jamie softens up, a small smile, maybe I am a beloved novel.
I hope much more, jealously of being dropped midway.
“Even you yourself get scared that you’re loved back in that way and that’s ok...” He pauses. “I always had that as well, it’s not something you grasp easily. I think it’s even harder to accept love from someone else than yours towards someone, because you see yourself bloom or you give yourself that morning to know how deep had the poison catalyzed your veins to function with it, that it becomes aid rather than a parasite and suddenly you feel yourself live longer and even if you’re fucking depressed, there’s a fucking reason.
And maybe that’s what keeps us going, the pure fear of wanting to know what follows after each step, because once you’re dead...” Jamie pauses. “We know God gives the best.”
I hear his ironic tone saying the word God, but it’s just for me to know, how he would slightly raise his voice at some word he found revolting in it’s own nature, some annotation written for him to read previously so that he would know how to use the word with caution.
“So... life is left for us to wander around. That’s why I like Alison’s card telling, it tells me all will be good, because it will be...” He pauses. “Because God says so.”
I take a gulp of wine, holding myself that if I laugh I would spill wine everywhere including on Jamie who would then laugh as well, but surely not spill the wine.
“So... your fear is just there, because you’re scared that... she likes you back really or in this case, as Lana confirmed it, loves you.” Jamie musses perhaps on the hotel and I wonder how come he doesn’t get jealous, but I didn’t feel that conflicted about Alison until Miles would start whispering things into me when we were alone and his whole existence was confusing and why had he kissed me and why had he gone on his knees with me? “Both of you were scared and...”
I bite my tongue not to laugh.
“Marriage is a very tough thing, you have to decide if you want to go with it or not, if both of you want to wed and if you’re willing to accept each other’s love.” But unfortunately the male excuses himself and the lady eavesdrops the last silence before leaving, coats on and Jamie smirks. “That was such bullshit, I had to say.”
He notices my slump.
“No, no, not regarding the situation... the whole... thing.” He widens his eyes, knowing that I know what he was talking about it. “Basically, you’re both terrified, you never thought you would be liked back or even loved, you thought that kiss was a one time thing and here you go, you both are fucking... out of wedlock.”
And his serious smile ends up in a full laugh, as I join him, trying to bite the back of my palm, but we both end up laughing far too loudly, but even we are about to leave the premises, perhaps grab the cake for us to eat on the floor of the hotel, post-coital.
And he’ll be without me and I’ll imagine all the streetlights against his face and I won’t even know where exactly he’ll be and I won’t have the taste of his lips on mine and rain juggling the wind outside, I won’t have anything besides words and memories being the bitterest to the wound of longing.
And the love knows no boundaries, as deep as the explanation of space, it expands beyond the mind only for some to pretend the know the size of the unmeasurable and not meaningful, as they look at the sky staring at the abyss of love unravelling.
I think even if I were to talk about anything to the crowd who don’t even peak behind closed door and imagine the gates of hell behind, once homosexuality presumed, if I were to speak, no one would listen because the crowd’s yells and jingling of golden crosses scattered my own beliefs even if we were to believe in the same God.
No one would hear it just like I would scream in a dream, no one would I know I had that dream.
And what would the crowd even be and how many people would we even be able to look in the eyes and how much had I had to close my ears with my hands, just to block whatever they would mutter, how politics were built and how words were whispered and sometimes I would just get amused at how people would care for who to vote, when everything seemed to be thrown into oblivion, regardless that it didn’t matter at all who was the fist of power, the ideology was the same, years and years to come, some shredded fear towards nothing and nothing seemed to be improving only the way we kept our secrets, we would find new locks and more space to hide in or maybe it’s because I grew up I found about all the places where men would plaster you on their lips.
And I wondered when did I even start torching people, but then I wasn’t better and Jamie surely wasn’t better, we would be the faces people would torch, we started becoming the Devils who made labor and secrets even worse, we were the tempting snake these days, the devil disguised and for some reason my body seemed to be the apple, which if you’ve got the right twisted mind is what makes it even worthwhile, having men spiral and like a siren singing them to an oblivious death. Only the irony of the myth that I were a man and I had a whole machine behind me, telling me that I should sing and no one doubted the fact that I could sing and how could I do so.
But then it didn’t matter the bombs were made, the fact was to bomb the people.
And I wondered how much misery could I even drink down, when alcohol stopped being bitter and I had realized that I would never be the one who the government protected even if I had sworn to protect it, I was like the wall which was poorly built, yet everyone admired for it’s state. I was the one who was going to collapse and so were my thoughts, racing and racing, too many thoughts per second and flashing like death.
“Yeah, I guess...” I pause. “Sorry, I have too many thoughts in my head.”
I confess and I just keep watching him, how he orders a refill of wine and I wonder if you can even get drunk or maybe that’s why you get drunk, because you manage to hop over tipsy, regardless if drunk was the aim or just to hold the bottle high. Jamie nods at me, asking what is going on in my head and I just shake my head, sighing and I look behind.
“...It still gets to me, what we do.” I pause. “I know it’s for survival, but we still... kill people regardless.”
“It is survival. We’re always at bay for war... which is different numbers entirely.” He says quietly, avoiding my gaze and I wonder for how many years had he had to do it since the job started off in around the 20s, if people like me were the ones he and Karen avoided like the plague. I wondered what would the second plague even be and if it would’ve been as big and if it were who would it even kill off, would all the sinners be the ones or would it be a random selection and would that be the indicator of God? “...Just think that there are far worse outcomes, ironically being in the armed forces, you compare yourself to a war state, so of course, it becomes survival and eventually... all becomes just numbers, the more they go...”
Jamie pauses, biting his bottom lip.
“Would you even be able to go through all the names of the people you’ve sent off, Turner?” He asks and his eyes are fixed on mine, as I run through the first names, now all of them bundling and scattering, different fragments of men and different last humiliation we’ve made them faced, are we the ironic gay catchers? All we miss is being priests like Father Ezra who seemed to come in my dreams for a while with his neat hair and inconsistent stare and I wonder if he still prays, if the act is still up and how far did his belief in God go and what causes a person to forget God if there was belief, how strong does life have to be to overthrow the cross? How long do we have to pace around or do we actually find God?
Or is there something which allows us to find God?
How come Miles had and I hadn’t?
We had loved the same man, we had been through similar situations and we seemed to reflect each other’s bad decisions at times that it seemed ironic that I had fallen in love with him.
I shake my head, the names already scattered and repressed beyond recognition, even with Albert who never gave Julian powdered ice cream and the first sailor, Jamie Cook (ironically) who literally just wanted a one time shag and I wondered if the cross had fallen from his own hands or from the hands of God for he had sinned in God’s master plan?
“No.” I say calmly, accepting tha hands of a misconceived Devil apparently and that thought made me cringe, because I never knew what had God wanted from me in the first place and if he had been the one to cause all the rain in the world and all the wounds to bleed, all the deaths of the young and new, old and sane, that we had all seemed to slip through his plan and sometimes I think the scientist is at fault, for he created us and he should answer for all our sins and neither should the Devil. It is odd to believe in the greater evil and compare yourself to evil when God is clearly the one mistaken at times and even the thoughts themselves even without belief hold the weight of the cross on the neck, chocking, sliding it, causing you to wonder what if the greater is just the same, a “saint” to watch over, nothing written, just watching over and judging, just like we all were.
But perhaps the world wasn’t a slaughterhouse but with people killed, it was and being optimistic was being ironically twisted and watching from afar, counting your life above else’s and that’s where we are all the Devil, at least me and Jamie are. And I remember I had compared him to the Devil for the blankness he had given me, lured me in and maybe love is the highest sin, because in a world where you value yourself above all, love where you don’t value yourself above someone else is being the Devil. So yeah, we were the Devil and God in all ways.
“Exactly.” He says. “Neither does a soldier who goes through all of war recall all the other soldiers he had killed, numbers stop mattering, you just think of all the times when you were nearly killed, not how many lives have you trimmed short and people you’ve decapitated or had their guts spilled or whatever you had used to assist their deaths.”
“Yeah, I guess.” I answer not even thinking of what to reply, but whatever his own words and imagining and wondering how the fuck would I have felt to sink actual people and watch them instead of ships, how twisted and rough my skin would’ve been and then I wondered who would I have compared myself to then or had I given myself fully over?
And if love was something opposite, which was the good and the bad, because all people loved even twisted, they would spare someone else usually, in most cases, so how do we decide or is the world that bleak that we are all the fucking same?
Are we all those who we imagine to rule us, is our reality the one which rules us?
And what does true disappointment felt like? And why is it so easily erased with time, I wonder with Miles.
The thought of war makes everything evident and real.
I think we have to get rid of the fear that a day is sole and realize that tomorrow is a continuation of today, that all will be shifted tomorrow and that’s ok.
Sometimes I want to switch the world off, I don’t want to hear people speak, that was one of the reasons I liked being on a boat and locking myself up in the night with no one to speak besides me and Jamie was my sanity.
I think none of us commit suicide because we want to know how much longer we would last on our own.
Once Jamie raised his eyes I mouthed ‘I love you’ at him, fork midair and he stopped for a while, smiling back, looking a bit down before fully exposing his lightly flushed state, but the words I had mouthed were still to the back of the existing couples and customers, because we were closed door which were labelled far too loud as friends and spoken of for us to even mutter things lightly, because even if society were stupid, it came daft and that was that sole good thing in something bad, because it never gets worse, we ourselves sometimes make it worse, sometimes times change but that’s when I realized I loved Jamie for sleeping in his arms for no reason in my mind, yet everything written among us deeply.
I wonder about Carlos and Julian, is it because they hadn’t been lovers before or because I was too blind to notice, just like Jamie had thought Alison slept with another man? Or was it because Carlos shot in the dark and I presumed shooting in the same direction would give the same result?
I want the only fight about being by is with oneself.
I think none of us commit suicide because we want to know how much longer we would last on our own.
Because it's an awfully long conversation it becomes awfully hard to divide it and pretty much number down the chapters somewhere, that's why it's so awfully long, I try to at least catch where Alex's thoughts change xD
And I suck, I've started a third thing during this Nanowrimo, I'll have the first chapter up sometime and it's a tongue-in-cheek satire sort of thing, it erupted from me and Callie taking the piss and then me writing the title, other than that my mouth is shut:)
So… my word count comes from everywhere, I've even thought of backstories haha, but I am catching up :D I did an impressive 3415 words in an hour (the 3k challenge) last night and I've really got to push out these chapters because it's a bit odd describing 10 k behind xD
It's a bit odd making all characters American which are frankly solely British and for some fucking reason I always imagine Jamie with the closest you could get to a British accent (I imagine, but that is far from how the character speaks in my head), so the head canon (hah, I have head canons about my characters xD) is that he's second generation or so, so minor stuff like that goes through Callie saying 'yeah, I imagine Hince holding his fork in the left hand'. I feel like a vacuum cleaner, I absorb ideas and small snippets through anything, like I'll be thinking about death or discussing graveyards with someone, bam, you'll have that in the chapter. I talk a lot about To Miles to Callie as usual and she always goes in character and goes "OH, imagine Matt doing this…" and more often I just laugh, yet, the fork idea was taken for today's chapter.
My mind is a mess, so I'm sorry if I've spoken about this since this whole day is trailing on in To Miles with obviously the same themes and discussions, so Julian and Carlos are subject of the public's way of saying, they're friends when in reality they can be whatever they want, friends included.
When I binge I start thinking a lot about Faith and Religion, solely because the subjects interest me and so does the paranormal and the whole is there, is there not questions, really.
I wrote this when I didn't want to chug a boot at Alison, so I beg your pardon. I think what I found interesting was how my demisexuality pretty much never allows me to go "yeah, they're attractive", I need to know the person to find them attractive so that really plays a lot, like when I had first seen Jamie with Kate in yellow pages, I was just 'where the fuck is Pete, this is bullshit', which frankly I'd shove a Kills CD in my teeth if I could.
I think the sky and stars are my new dancing and waltzing. Am I the only one noticing my word patterns or do I speak too much that it's too long to recall? If it is, good XD
I accidentally chucked the same paragraph in twice, ugh. I sometimes write on the phone fast and then just copy it on the computer, tadah!
Even if Al has my loudmouth, Jamie gets my introvertedness and apparently my reading speed, it's quite hard for me and Callie to read the same thing, because I'm much faster, damn -.-
I think waltz and conteprary dancing is my small nudge to that Mexican Kills interview where Jamie just programmed the drum machine so that it gave out random beats during the thick of it and started dancing, saying that it's his contemporary dancing break (I apologize if I misquoted, it wasn't break, it was something else, but contemporary and I'm sleepy and it's a great interview!).
Sometimes when I write, I speak to myself things I can't say to myself, so sometimes regarding Matt and Alex I soothe myself down with Jamie's words. That was a bit personal, yet cryptic, all good.
I don't like adding OCs yet the woman in the other table was one and I wanted to pretty much shamelessly highlight the dullness of couples and it seems that the further we go back, the worse it gets as it's more of a moral obligation, a more sugarcoating and frankly bitterness from nothing in the marriage, so I really wanted to highlight that. And I think everyone peeks at the other conversation in that table which seems to have two attractive young men (I'd ship it, as usual).
Ah, yes, avoiding pronouns, pretending nothing is going on, ah the smell of the wooden closet.
It's odd giving love opinions different or more wandering and lost than my own, since they've only been dating for a few months opposed to my years xD
I love the Captain's bullshit and here's a wee nod to his bullshit speeches about God and marriage, which Alex won't see for the next few months, ugh, my heart is ripping to shreds.
Alex comparing himself to the Devil and his whole thoughts on the matter is him picking up old thoughts and comparisons back when he wasn't dating Jamie, so that all thoughts in the end become circular and make sense.
I wanted to quote Stalin's statistic quote, but I couldn't, so made my way through with Jamie's thoughts on death and numbers, I was inventing a fucking bicycle all over again xD
I think the question of how many men had Alex sent off was something in the back of my mind, even without myself knowing, I wanted to know and hear him say that he doesn't and that's where the blackness of both Alex's and Jamie's soul come from, because it becomes survival and there's nothing romanticized about it, at all. It's not a marvelous martyr act, it's pretty much shooting just to keep alive and doesn't matter at whom, faking homophobia to avoid homophobia towards you. I just like exploring dark themes and I guess betrayal is a lurking theme here, which is going through the whole novel and becomes more relevant as it goes, the more you get betrayed obviously.
The last line is some of those lines which just pop in my head, when I might be having a depressive episode and that's why in my teenage years I would always carry a notebook, now it's just my phone, but they would pop up and I would think which story to stick them into, but I wouldn't change them, maybe add something after a coma, but they come as they come.
I hope you enjoyed it and thank you so so so much for your dearest support,
Tell me if you liked it!
To Miles 43
To Miles 43