the fates already fucked me sideways

January, 1933 The diary of Anaïs Nin [Volume One: 1931-1934]

the  ambience  of  the  waves  crashing  before  them  filled  the  silences  between   them  .  though  fitz  had  never  found  them  to  be  an  inconvenience  .  he   could've  happily  spent  his  days  immersed  in  those  periods  of  quiet  ,  with  the  man  sat   beside  him  .  they'd  both  favored  communication  in  the  form of  the  written  word  anyway  ,  as  if  pen  and  paper  were  a  safer  entity  than  speaking  words  into  existence  .  "  animated  expressions  have  never  really  been  our  style  ,though seeing  you  red  in  a  different  context  is  undoubtedly  intriguing  .  "  a  painted  smirk  drafted  its  way  onto  his  features  ,  as  his  eyes  glittered  ,   looking  up toward  his  starmate  .  fitz  had  never  been  a  man  that  lacked   confidence  ,  it  radiated  off  of  him  in  the  way  that  he  walked  ,  and  talked  ,  and  simply  ,  existed  .  but  on  nights  like  these  ,  with  the  present  company  ,  he  could  feel  himself  burying  his  body  into  the  sand  ,  further  and  further  .    waiting  ,  for  samson  to  pull  him  out  .  "  i  simply  exist  .  you  ,  on  the  other   hand  ,  wouldn't  be  able  to  get  your  fix  if  i  slinked  off  into  a  world  of  solitude  .  "   they  both  expressed  unadulterated  truth  to  one  another  ,  with  no   preconceived  premonition  of  concealment  .  the  o'callaghan  heir  indulged  in  the  goodness  that  samson  provided  him  ,  goodness  as  if  it  were  a  gift  .  but  in   his  soul  ,  as  the  gods  made  it  so  ,  he  was  born  to  taint  and  destroy  .  he  wondered  when  it  was  samsons  turn  to  be  destructed  in  his  wake  .  even  now  ,   when  they  shared  careful  touches  ,  a  nudge  of  the  shoulder  or  light  fingertips  tapping  against  his  knee  ,  he  questioned  whether  even  his  touch  had  the  power  to  contaminate  .    "  you've  been  banished  for  treason  for  wishing  ill  upon   the  redheads  of  the  land  .  do  you  have  any  final  words  before  you  are  exiled  ?  "  he  declared  ,  his  fist  morphing  into  a  faux  microphone  ,  holding  his  hand  dangerously  close  to  samson's  lips  .  "  don't  touch  your  hair  ,  i  really  do  like   you  just  the  way  you   are  .  " 

Samson watched Fitz closely; he noticed everything he did and did not do, teasing sweetly their twin natures of stoicism. "I'll do my best display for you then -- when someone is draped over you at the Dionysia, I'll give you my darkest gaze over a cup. You know me so well; I have to inspire you, with some revelation about myself." No matter how perfect Samson wished to think of them both, their natures were both alive to gratification -- however they sought it. In each answer Fitz afforded him now, Samson heard only perfect music; he was shown a power in his heart he had scarcely known existed. They enjoyed the way the other spoke -- keenly they relished the way they met one another in quickness, no matter what language they favoured.  "Maybe so -- certainly, I'll concede. Without you I couldn’t get my fix; but without me, you will return home and find little reprieve in sleep, no matter how sweet the release may have been." How, while looking keenly at Fitz's jaw once more, Samson longed to remind him how he could recall the sensation of his hands on his face; the cleft in his chin, the questioning look in his eyes.  Curiously, with great restraint to contain all tremblings, he traced the warmth of Fitz's cheek; like a child he then retreated, holding his hands in a prayer, eyes trained upon the heavens now. It was better to speak on a topic of levity now -- so Samson could quell his own tender confidences. He struggled still to not speak to Fitz in only the tenderest of cadences -- Samson feared his sweet honey would chafe at Fitz's skin like a blight or plague. "Nicole Kidman please know that when I slander redheads never ever do I mean you -- especially in Eyes Wide Shut. Which I am hoping, Professor Avila will let us recreate one day. Would you know me in a mask?" His heart stilled as Fitz's fingers hovered before his lips; to speak or die, his moment of levity rushed forward with a sense of urgency -- to deny the desire to kiss those fingers and make them his own, or to maintain an ounce of his well-cultivated pride? There was shared between them a certain infatuation with ego; perhaps this lay between all great lovers. But Fitz drew him like a powerful magnet -- there would be so much unspeakable between them, but not this night; not in the tender kiss, Samson laid upon those fingers now. He did not retreat now, his gaze firm and the blue of his eye clear. "It's moments when you speak to me like this that I know I am done for. You like me as I am, something even I cannot do -- I must protest, the injustice. How is my heart supposed to put up any fight?" 

by Mariza Kapsabeli

"   hello   ,   stranger   .   "   fitz   murmured   ,   as   if   to   the   air   .   samson's   presence   radiated   even   from   the   furthest   corner   of   the   island   ,   the   threads   that   tied   them   together   glistened   whenever   he   sought   the   solitude   that   they   so   often   craved   .   he   knew   who   those   silent   footprints    in   the   sand   belonged   to   ,   the   waves   could   not   curtail   the   electricity   of  their   kind   of   emotional   pull   .   he   often   thought   that   the   moonlight   called   to   them   both   ,   as   if   the   nights   sky   provided   them   some   kind   of   sanctity   they   weren't   afforded   in   the   daylight   .   perhaps   that   was   why    the   summer   ,   had   never   been   quite   their   season   .   the   longer   evenings   and   a   sun   that   threatened   to   remain   well   past   when   it   was   due   ,   had   felt   ill   fitting   to   them   both   ,   like   a   garment   that   never   quite   hung   in    the   way   one   would   like   it   to   .   he   supposed   it   was   always   meant   to   be   this   way   ,   reuniting   with   only   the   stars   as   their   audience   .   fitz's   hands   were   crossed   loosely   ,   cushioning   the   back   of   his   head   .   he   hadn't    dared   to   look   at   samson   yet   ,   he'd   not   even   dared   to   spare   him   a glance   .   "   did   the   stars   tell   you   to   find   me   here   ,   or   have   you   been    watching   me   all   night   ?   "  he   supposed   that   their   dynamic   had   never   been   one   of    miscommunication   or   misunderstanding   .   instead   ,   it   was   peppered   with   a   million   unspoken   words   and   touches   that   we   not   pursued   .   if   they  were   bolder   ,   even   prouder   in   their   feelings   toward   one   another   ,   fitz    would   rattle   off   every   thought   he'd   had   all   summer   :   come   home   to   me   ,   my   world   is   glacial   and   hollow   without   your   warmth   ,   why   did   you  not   call   ?   why   did   you   not   write   ?   he   wanted   to   be   cruel   ,   use   this    as   the   golden   opportunity   that   in   any   other   context   ,   that   he'd   characterize   as   his   eureka   moment   .   but   the   heart   he   once   thought   he   was   without   ,   spoke   to   him   in   ways   that   felt   foreign   to   him   .   "   why   would   i   ever   want   to   spite   you   ?   "   fitz   questioned   ,   finally   succumbing   to   the   desire   that   radiated   through   him   .   he   paused   ,   took   in   his   surroundings   and   the   man   before   him   .   not   for   calculation   or   premeditation   ,   but   for   the   simple   fact   of   wanting   to   bask   in   his   presence   .   fitz   nodded   his   head   ,   to   indicate   that   they   should   sit   .   in   the  process   ,   the   intentional   graze   of   his   shoulder   was   a   communication   .   it   was   a   declaration   ,   of   longing   and   wanting   ,   of   a   reassurance   that   samson   really   was   here   ,   in   the   flesh   .   "   all   that   tells   me   is   that   you've   been   waiting   to   hear   my   name   on   the   lips   of   our   brothers   and   sisters   in   arms   .   "   a   cocked   brow   , and   a   slight   smile   threatened   to   break   through   .   he   could   not   deny   ,   he   was   rather   pleased   that   he   was   not   the   only   one   with   open   ears   ,   and   eager   eyes   .   "   you're   without  shortcomings   ,   dearest   .   i   like   you   just   as   you   are   .   "   he   hummed   ,  letting   the   alabaster   sand   cascade   through   his   finger   tips   .   "   to   note   ,   i   have   no   opinion   of   redheads   ,   nor   am   i   component   of   said   whirlwind  love   affair   ,   before   you   let   your   mind   wander   .   "

"Stranger; have I lost you so?" The glow of Fitz's complexion, the expansion of his nostril, the bold with which disdain gave his well cut lips, showed him in a new phase. Samson couldn't think of the last time he'd excited animation like this in someone; with good reason, most regarded him as void of affection, unspoiled by principles or faith. Looking at Fitz didn't calm or soothe him; there was something in his face, Samson could never bring himself to turn away from. The rare passions that crossed his own countenance were surely an unpleasant spectacle; was that why still, Fitz would not look at him? Quietly, Samson continued; his own hands fidgeted, knowing not where they would best serve. "Would it please you better to know I came here out of my of volt ion?" The stars, had a well earned place in their story; Henry VII had commissioned a trio of astrologers, and all would have cosigned the thought Samson and Fitz had been born under the same one. Their summer apart had been agony, but in parting, Samson had been a legacy. For the first time, since he was a child, he had a hope for the future; a brave new course. Few things could shake him -- everything had the power to depress him. .Fitz's eyes settled on him gently; there was softness in them now, shades of reproach melting into remorse. Samson's opening words merited a reply of severity -- he was met only with indulgence. He had not known until the day that they met, that his character had moods of haughtiness, warmth, jealousy; Fitz denied all these faults, but gathered them up and took him home. The manner in which Fitz spoke to him -- these gentle words -- would do Samson good for a lifetime. They would be comfort when he was lost in the straits of loneliness; a lifeline, pride would not cut short. In their proximity, a wordless language was shared. Never had Samson feel desire outstrip impulse, irritating his imagination --- his nerves were feverish, his eyes apparent to any onlooker they threatened to flash something like love. Faithfully Samson took Fitz's lead, resting beside him with a bent head and eager heart; their brief contact, sending that traitorous organ into a death march. He could not help but smile -- so alike the satisfied expression Fitz sported at any party. "You'd love to spite me -- I know you'd put down good money, to see me riled up."​​​​​​​ Samson looked at Fitz's face and instantly longed for the ability to know all his opinions; but well-employed questions in any language, would not better elicit them than whatever spell tethered them. He was quiet a moment, and hushed in reply. "Maybe. I suppose it wouldn't be of use to either of us for me to deny that. Not that I've been forced to wait for very long; do you remain a topic of conversation out of action or habit?" Samson's voice faltered out of delight then any fear -- he was made soft and docile, in the token of uncharacteristic goodness, he was being offered now. "I'm almost delusional enough to believe that, but I know you've noticed by now that my em dash usage is wildly out of control." It was almost pathetic, the gravity that Samson employed to gently nudge Fitz's shoulder -- but every touch they shared was too domestic to be tolerated. "Some would say I'm betraying our shared homeland in saying this, but I'm glad you're not into redheads. It'd complicate things too much, I think. And I'll take your for for it, that you're not this sophomores tall and Byronic paramour. Though I concede, I don't know what I would have been inspired to if you'd said yes." 

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