#p. self

FALL 1999

The first time things went wrong for Silas, he was eleven years old. He was in the fifth grade, but he wasn’t good at a lot of things. His worst subject is, and has always been, mathematics. He just isn’t good at it. He didn’t find it interesting to him, at all. And the first time things went wrong for him, was the day he failed his first test. Usually, he was pretty good at math for an eleven year old. Simple multiplications, maybe a little basic algebra. But when things started getting more complicated, he became confused. Didn’t understand what he wanted to do. And when he walked home knowing there was that 13 / 40 test in his backpack, he felt his heart fall to his stomach. 

He didn’t know how his parents would react. He was the oldest; he was supposed to be the best he could be so he could be a good role model despite Jimmy only being a few minutes younger than him. Maybe it was all in his head; the pressure to excel at everything. It was a lot on his little, eleven year old shoulders. But he still wanted to try as hard as he could. 

He was home a lot earlier than he should be. He was supposed to go to the theater center after school, but he didn’t feel up to going. The fear over how his family would react to that test was eating at him from the inside out; to the point where he didn’t even walk through the front door. Instead, he opened the gate to the backyard, and after making sure that he wouldn’t be seen, he scurried up the ladder to the treehouse his father had build for him and jimmy a few years ago. The wood was old, but sturdy enough to hold his small frame as he tucked himself in the corner, staring at the test. He was out there for what felt like forever for a young boy, but it was only a few hours. He didn’t even stop to think that his parents may worry about him; that they may wonder where he went. He was just afraid of how they’d react. 

The sun had just started to set when he heard someone climbing up the ladder. His first thought was that it was Jimmy -- Silas had been trying to call them via twin telepathy, and maybe it had finally worked. But when he looked over, and saw his father’s head peek up from the entrance to the treehouse, he panicked and shoved the test in his backpack again. 

“What are you doing up here? We were all so worried, Silas. Why didn’t you tell your brother you were coming home earlier? He could have told us.”

Silas paused, holding his backpack close to his chest. He didn’t want to show his father the test. He was afraid, so very afraid and he felt his stomach in his chest. His heartbeat was fast; paranoid. Fear. 

“I...” He sighed, shaking his head. “I didn’t do too well today.” He explained softly, letting his knees fall to the floor. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I failed a test.” 

Dalton was silent. “How bad is it?” 

He didn’t sound upset, more... curious. Silas took the test from his bag and handed the slightly wrinkled paper over. 

“Hm. C’mon, let’s go show this to your mother.” 

The fear was back in Silas’ chest as he descended the ladder, and his mother’s reaction was the same as his father’s. They weren’t mad, a little upset, and they decided to have Silas be tutored. Silas didn’t want to be, however, and from that point on he pushed himself to study harder, if anything to make his parents proud. 

WINTER 2004

The second time things went wrong for Silas, he was a sophomore in high school. Sixteen years old, driving a car, and ready to see where the next few years would take him in life. He already had his own car; a small, hand-me-down vehicle that he got from his grandfather, and he had a boyfriend whom he felt ike he loved.  He had spent the entirety of that past fall going to every football game and standing in the stands, cheering as loud as he could. He even dragged Jimmy to a few, just to show moral support for Damian. Damian Westbrooke was on the football team; a runningback. He was tall, attractive, and Silas felt like the luckiest boy in the world to be able to be dating him. His sophomore year started off to be one of the best of his life.

That is, until Damian asked him to meet him under the bleachers one day after practice. 

Silas, as per usual, had stayed after school to watch the practice. He usually gave Damian a ride home, would say hello to Damian’s mother, then be on his way home to his own family. This time, however, he couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong. He had this feeling in his stomach; this feeling like he was in trouble. Almost like his fight or flight instincts, except this time it was something a little more intense. It caused his palms to sweat and his fingers to fidget; desperate for something to fiddle with. 

“Hey, you.” 

Silas jumped, startled by Damian appearing under the bleachers. He was so lost in his own head that he didn’t even notice the boy approaching him. He smiled, greeting Damian with a kiss on the cheek. It was normal for him -- they had been dating since the last day of school their freshman year. “Hey -- what’d you want to talk about?” 

He could see Damian swallow -- the way he adjusted his practice bag on his shoulder; his fist tightening and loosening against the strap. This wasn’t good; this wasn’t good at all. Damian was avoiding eye contact -- his eyes were on the ground. The wind picked up around them, sending a breeze through Silas’ hair that made him wish he didn’t leave his beanie in his car. He could feel his heartbeat pick up -- terrified that Damian would say something was wrong, that he would say --

“I think we should break up.” 

It was like a punch in the gut. 

He was silent a moment; “What?” 

The look on Damian’s face told him enough. There was pain, that little bit of remorse that always came with a breakup, but there wasn’t regret. And that’s what killed Silas the most. “What are you talking about, Dame?” 

“I think we should break up, Silas.” He commented, adjusting his strap again. 

“Why? We were doing so well. Hell, we don’t even argue--” 

“The boys, in the locker room, they’ve been talking--” 

“So what? Screw ‘em! You’re happy, Damian! We’re happy!” 

Damian paused, blinking. Almost as if Silas had said something that he shouldn’t have. The taller boy frowned; his eyebrows pulling together. 

“Damian? You are happy, right?” 

“I...” Damian paused. He looked up at Silas, then back down at the ground. “No. I’m not.” 

Silas took a moment, replaying every instance in his head. He couldn’t think of a time when Damian wasn’t happy; wasn’t smiling. He thought he had done a good job; that he had been a good boyfriend. Damian always told him how much he loved him. How much they were happy together -- Hell, Damian once told Silas how he looked forward to spending the rest of their lives together. It hurt, thinking that he wasn’t happy. 

“Are you serious?” 

He waited, but Damian nodded. And with that, the boy turned to walk away. “I’m sorry, Silas. I never meant to hurt you.” 

Silas watched as Damian walked away, feeling like his heart had been ripped out.

But nothing could match the feeling he felt when he saw Damian walking hand-in-hand with Jenny the Head Cheerleader the very next day. 

WINTER 2007

The third time that things went wrong for Silas was his Freshman year of college; his first year away from home. He was nineteen years old, at one of the best schools in the country, and happy as could be. He even started working on a pledge for fraternities. Things were going well.

It was the day before Christmas Eve. He had bought a ticket weeks in advance to be able to fly home for Christmas, and stay for the rest of the year in Cotton Plant before returning for classes to start again. Some of his favorite memories of home were waking up early Christmas day with Jimmy and going to sit by the tree, eagerly waiting for his parents to wake up and join them. Others included baking cookies on Christmas Eve for dinner the next day, and within the later years Olly had joined him with that. He was excited. He missed home; missed his family. 

The airport was cold. He didn’t expect anything less; with the amount of people in it at this time of year it was better to keep the air on than have everyone complain about how warm it was. He sat in a chair, his luggage a little too close to his legs as he waited impatiently for the intercom to announce his flight. 

It felt like hours had passed by before he heard anything. It had gotten dark outside; and since Silas had just been lost in his book he hadn’t been paying attention to the time. He had wanted to save his phone battery so he had something to drown out the noise of the plane. He finally glanced up and glanced outside, his bottom lip immediately being pulled between his teeth as he saw the snowfall. Almost moments after, he finally heard the intercom -- 

“Attention, members of flight 1251 to Little Rock: Your flight has been cancelled due to insufficient weather. Please visit the ticket desk for rescheduling.” 

Silas all but ran to the ticket desk -- he really wanted to make it home on time. But as he saw the line, he saw how long the line was. It seemed like his flight wasn’t the only one that was cancelled. Sighing, he checked the time -- it was already 6 pm. By the time he was able to reschedule his flight, it would be beyond late and he wouldn’t have time. Nevertheless, he stood in line, and waited. And waited, and waited, and waited, until he was able to talk to the lady at the desk.

“Hello, sir. Are you here to purchase a flight ticket, or reschedule?” 

“Uh,” He cleared his throat, “Reschedule.” 

“Which flight?” 

Tapping his finger against the desk, he placed his ticket down. “1251 to Little Rock, Arkansas.” 

The lady tapped on her keyboard, then looked up at him again. “The next flight to Little Rock is tomorrow at twelve pm.” 

Twelve pm. That was noon. That wasn’t enough time to get home, and do all that he wanted to do. And that didn’t even add in the fact that it would take even longer to get home because after a storm like this, the roads would be horrible. Sighing, he shook his head. “Is there any flights that have layover? Flights preferably tonight?” 

She tapped away on her keyboard, and after a moment, frowned. “I’m sorry sir, but all flights for tonight have been cancelled due to the storm. The next flight isn’t until one am tomorrow to Miami.” 

A dual flight from Miami to Little Rock didn’t seem too bad. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that it would just take longer. And he wouldn’t get any sleep. And it would probably cost a lot more than just waiting until noon. “I’ll take the twelve o’clock pm flight to Little Rock.” 

The lady was kind enough to exchange his ticket, meaning he didn’t have to pay another penny. But what he was the most frustrated about, was that the next day, the storm still hadn’t lifted. Boston was covered in snow, the streets were horrible. He had to take take the train to the airport in the first place just to find out that the twelve pm flight to Little Rock had been cancelled as well. 

He had to spend his first Christmas in college alone in his dorm room because of the stupid snow. And he spent it looking at the presents he had gotten for his family -- the Harvard sweatshirt he had gotten for his father, the necklace for his mother, the snowglobe for Olly, the painting for Jimmy -- all wrapped in the corner of his room, waiting to be opened. He ate takeout that he had to trudge through the snow to get, watched his favorite movies, but that didn’t stop the empty feeling that he had the entire time. He felt beyond alone, and there was really nothing that he could do. 

SUMMER 2012

The fourth time things went wrong for Silas, it was right after he graduated from school and had spent time lingering around, hoping for something that may or may not come true. He made the decision on a whim; mostly because he hadn’t wanted to go home just yet. He wanted to try and make something for himself. He had yet to have enough money saved to get his own shop, and part of him wanted to try something spontaneous. So he sold his car -- the old, beat up car he had from high school -- and took the train to New York City. He rented a small studio apartment, ready to take on the city for whatever it had with him. And he got a basic job at a coffee shop. It was nice; his post-grad life was starting off pretty well. 

He started auditioning. Just something on the side; trying to see if anything happened. And things went slow at first. He knew he wasn’t going to get the parts he wanted right away, and he didn’t mind it. But when he got his first callback, he was beyond excited. He walked into the theater with confidence, his head held high and excitement coursing through his veins. He thought this was his big break. Things were going so smoothly; he was hoping for the best. 

There was two things he had to do for the callback. The first thing was a re-reading of the scenes that he wasn’t able to do previously, and the second was a chemistry read with the females that had been called back. It seemed simple enough. And he did what he had to do. He did the scenes, almost memorized the slides he was given, and even made a few friends. And when he left the theater later that day, he was pretty sure that he would at least get a small part in the show. 

He found out a week later that he didn’t even get that. He had heard from one of his friends from the callbacks that someone else had gotten the part, and that the reason he wasn’t cast was that the female that was cast was so much shorter than him, that it wouldn’t work. And as much as he didn’t want to believe it, he knew it was true. One of the girls was almost two feet shorter than him. And when it boiled down to it, he knew that was the girl that was cast. 

He knew he shouldn’t have been upset, but he was. He really, really was. 

It was a stupid thing to be upset over. But it seemed to be one of the turning points for him. He fell in a small, downward spiral after that -- not going to work, avoiding going out with friends. He just didn’t feel motivated after that. That’s what made him head home; he knew he’d be happy in Cotton Plant. But that still didn’t mean that he didn’t bring his sadness with him. 

FALL 2017 -- 9/17/17

“You seem very sure of this, Mr. Smythe.” Christian commented, a smile on his face. He typed away on his keyboard, finishing up the formalities of the purchase. Silas was all but bouncing in his seat. He even dressed up for the occasion -- as dressed up as dressy casual could be. 

“I am. I’ve been saving up for this for many years.” 

Christian nodded, printing out the documents. He collected them all, stapled them, marked some areas with a red circle, then handed the packet to Silas. “Sign everywhere there’s a circle.” 

Silas nodded, eagerly looking over the contract then picked up the pen and signed his big, scribbled signature. He glanced it over once more, and handed it back to Christian. 

He had been waiting for this moment for as long as he could remember. Hell, he and CeCe talked about it when they were younger. And while he wanted her to be there with him, signing the papers -- he knew why she couldn’t. He wanted to surprise her. But things were finally going right. Things were finally falling into place and it was only a few more months of preparations before he was able to really live out his dream, with his best friend by his side. All that was left to do was buy the equipment, get his license, and start hiring. He was almost there that he felt like he could taste it. 

“Alright, it seems like everything’s in order and paid for.” Christian smiled, pushing off from his desk and standing up. “Shall we go check it out?” 

“Of course.” Silas was given the address, and followed Christian out to Little Rock. 

The building was on the corner of a small strip mall on the outskirts of downtown Little Rock. Cars were still coming and going, and it was right next to a small diner. It seemed like the perfect spot for his plans. He parked right in front, right next to Christian, and tried not to seem too excited about it. Christian unlocked the door and let Silas inside, and the taller man couldn’t hide the grin that appeared on his face. 

The walls were bare white, and the floor was hard, dark wood. It seemed that the place hadn’t been occupied in years despite it being only a few months. Silas stepped into the center of the room, taking it all in. “What did this used to be?” He asked, looking around. 

“A nail studio. There’s the big area here, two rooms in the back for offices, and a bathroom.” Christian stated, watching as Silas looked around.

Ideas already started coming to life in Silas’ mind. He could hang up movie posters; make it partially his own. Bring in things that he and CeCe both loved; make it theirs. They could paint on the walls; put up his own designs. They could turn the two office spaces in the back into one big room where their artists could relax on their breaks. They could make it a great little space to be.

He was just hoping that CeCe would be willing to do this with him at the cost in mind. 

He could see the chairs lining the walls. The desks at the front for check-ins and appointments to be made. Half walls to separate the artists’ spaces. Everything was coming together in his mind. 

“And you said that renovations alone would only take a few months, right?” 

“With dedication, yes.” 

“And I can do whatever I want?” 

“Within reason.” 

Silas grinned. “That’s amazing.” He looked back to the area, feeling like he was about to start jumping for joy. It was coming together. It was all coming together and things were going right. He was one step closer to creating his own tattoo shop. 

He was getting lost in his head again. Too busy going through ideas in his mind to notice Christian coming up behind him and tapping on his shoulder. 

“Mr. Smythe?” 

“Hm?”

“Here’s your keys.” 

Silas grinned, taking the key in his hand. “Thank you, so much.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Smythe. I’m going to head out, though -- please contact me if you have any questions. Enjoy your new space.” 

The bed Silas laid in was comfortable; one he laid in many times before. He could hear Julian in the bathroom; the water was running. After a long night of doing everything but sleeping, Julian usually always showered first thing in the morning. It's how things worked. A night of rendezvous, a morning of showering and going their separate ways until the cycle repeated. Silas was to shower after Julian; but by the time he got out Julian would be long gone. Off to work and doing what he did. It was almost routine. But Silas wanted to break that routine. Slipping out of bed he tugged on his boxers and sat on the edge, waiting for the water to turn off. "Have fun without me?" He asked, smirking as he ran a hand through his ruffled hair. Julian scoffed playfully, shaking his head as he adjusted his towel. "Like that's an option." Silas' eyes peeked. Now this was his chance. "So... I was wondering..." "Oh no." "Shut up. There's an art show coming to Little Rock next weekend. Would you want to go with me?" He knew it was a bad idea. What he had with Julian was an urge-only thing. They hooked up; that was that. No dates; no fancy over the top little things that should come with a relationship. But Silas was blind by attraction and well, dick. He couldn't see how this was all one sided. "Sure, why not." The response took Silas by shock but he wasn't complaining. He nodded, hiding the smile behind a stoic expression as he stood to take his own shower. "Great, I'll text you." It was only after he closed the bathroom door behind him that he let his smile take over his face. It was odd for him to be this happy over a boy. He hadn't been this happy since his brief time with Kota; but even that was short lived. He tended to keep his emotions to himself after Kota; not taking the chances out of fear of getting hurt. But this time, he wanted to take the chance. As far as he knew, Julian seemed to care. Sure, their relationship started off unconventional in a bar, leading to hookups every other night but it was something. It was better than nothing. And while he thought that Julian cared about him, he really, really cared about Julian. They were similar enough; sarcastic and without a filter when it came to bullshit. To Silas, that was good enough. In reality, he seemed desperate. Reaching for something that may not be there. Hoping for a fairytale ending that only happened in the books. But in the moment, he was blind. He bought the tickets during the brief time when he stopped at home to get changed before work. And he was giddy the rest of the day. Hell, he was giddy for the rest of the week. Excited and ecstatic that Julian had even said yes. He had started planning; something he rarely did because he never went on dates. To him, this was a date. But to Julian, Silas wasn't sure what he considered it. Still blindsided, Silas almost went all out. But he settled on a simple dinner at a diner, then they'd go to the art show. Simple, memorable, and not too romantic. It was enough for Silas to be happy with but not enough for Julian to be scared away by. He knew he tended to overdo it sometimes, and he was hoping that this was toned down enough. He wasn’t a serious romantic, but he did like to pamper those he cared about. 

That was the thing about Silas. When he cared about someone, or something, he put all his time in it. He became invested in everything they did, and in some cases it bordered obsessive. If it was an art project, he’d be locked in his room, spending hours hunched over his canvas until it was completed. When he started working on tattoos, he once bought out a supermarket’s worth of oranges just so he could practice enough to get it right. To be the best he could be. It’s why when he had to go and get Jimmy, he felt like such a failure. He had one job with his siblings; to be there for them whenever they needed him. To protect them from heartache; to protect them from whatever life throws at them. And seeing Jimmy so broken, so defeated; it broke Silas down piece by piece. Because he didn’t feel like he had done enough for his sibling. He didn’t feel like he had done his job. 

His obsessive personality really took control in his mind that day; making a promise to be there for Jimmy from that point on. Even if Jimmy didn’t want him there. He tried not to let his obsessive side show, to not become invested in everything to the point where it would get out of hand. He was pretty good at controlling it. And it came in handy; it was how he was able to not only get into Harvard but also keep his marks in the higher rankings while also taking time to party with his frat brothers. It wasn’t always bad. At least, he tried not to think about that. 

When the night rolled around, Silas’ nerves got the better of him but he pushed it down in exchange for making sure things went as smoothly as possible. He found himself triple checking the time, making sure he looked just the right mix of dressy casual, and even went as far as to removing and replacing the tickets in various pockets that he had on him so he wouldn’t lose them ( he settled on the inside pocket of his jacket ). And at six thirty, he sent Julian the text that he was on his way and he would be at Julian’s place soon. He could feel his palms growing sweaty as he made the drive, frequently finding himself wiping his palms on his jeans. He had to remind himself that things were going to be okay. 

When Julian stepped into the car, Silas had to refrain from reaching over and kissing him then and there. 

The man looked good. That was for certain. He was dressed in a similar fashion to Silas; not too dressy, not too casual. The perfect outfit for a date to dinner and an art show. 

The drive to Little Rock was filled with the soft music from Silas’ phone playing; it was his music but Julian had decided which ones were going to be played. Silas didn’t mind; however. Julian had greatly impacted his music taste anyways. They didn’t talk a lot, only a few comments here or there and Silas couldn’t place whether or not Julian was just enjoying the content silence or if he was feeling just as nervous as Silas was. 

 Pulling into the diner, Silas took a deep breath before he left his car. Things were going to be okay. They were going to work out in his favor. They had to. He had done so much planning; had done so much to make sure everything went smoothly. He led Julian into the diner and to a booth that was slightly secluded, but not enough to make anyone on a casual date feel uncomfortable. 

“Because nothing says fancy art show like a dinner at Denny’s, right?” Julian asked, despite the sarcasm in his voice he had a smile on his face -- a genuine one. It made Silas’ heart melt a little bit. 

“I figured nobody could appreciate artwork on an empty stomach. It was either here or that fancy steak place down the street.” He shrugged, a teasing tone to his voice. 

They ordered and ate in silence. And Silas should have caught onto the looks that Julian was giving passerbys; he should have seen the way Julian’s eyes lingered just a tad too long on someone through the glass window. He should have caught on to the way that what he was trying to talk about, was going in one ear and out the other with Julian. But Silas was blind, and lost in his own serendipity where he would be happy with Julian and Julian would be happy with him. He didn’t see the things that Julian was doing because he was too focused on the idea that he had constructed in his mind; the idea of a beautiful, happy relationship and he had become obsessed with it. But he didn’t see a single thing wrong. 

They left the diner with full stomachs and Silas’ next plan for the night was set into motion. The drive from Denny’s to Local Colour Gallery, where the art show was being held was a short one; one that they probably could have walked if Silas trusted his shaking knees. As they waited in line to get into the venue, Silas had to keep himself from reaching over to hold Julian’s hand. To feel Julian’s hand in his own; the hand he had felt on his body just over a week ago. But he hadn’t asked Julian to be his yet. That would wait for later. He could feel his nerves settling in and while most of the time he’d be chatting up others in line, much like what Julian was doing, he found himself getting lost in his head. Obsessing over what he could do to make the night better. 

He looked over at Julian. The man seemed to be enjoying himself. He was talking to someone in line about the music scene of Little Rock. At least, from what Silas could hear over his thoughts. He didn’t notice the wink that Julian had sent to the man wearing the scarf. Didn’t notice the subtle exchange of numbers with the woman in red. Didn’t notice the lingering touches the woman in black left on Julian’s shoulder. All he could think about was how he was going to ask Julian to be his later that night. 

They entered the gallery and Silas took the first chance of the night. He linked arms with Julian, leading him through the gallery and reading aloud the plaques that accompanied the paintings. He was in his element; embracing the work of oils and acrylics that he himself loved to work with. And Julian seemed content with it all. He would squeeze Silas’ arm when he was interested, or look away when he wasn’t. Silas understood why some of it seemed boring to Julian; art wasn’t for everyone after all. 

They had stopped in front of the painting titled Strong Hearts by Bob Snider. It was one he had read about online, and he was excited to see it in person. Silas always had an apt for watercolor, despite not working with it frequently in his own time. But it was the racing horses that gave him the confidence to do what he wanted to do. After reading the plaque out loud he took a breath, turned to Julian with wide, eager eyes and dropped the man’s arm. 

“I have a question.” He asked. 

Julian didn’t look at him, but hummed to let Silas know he was listening. 

“We’ve been... doing this whole, hooking up thing for a while... And I was wondering if you wanted to take things a step further. If you wanted to... you know... be my boyfriend?” 

He was hopeful. His eyes were still wide, anticipating the answer that Julian would give. In his mind, Julian had already said yes. In his mind, they were happy. They were content, together, and discussing moving in with each other. 

( Things always moved faster in his head ). 

In his head, things were going his way. 

Julian had fell silent once again. He was looking at the painting, and seemed to really be taking it in. He glanced at Silas for a moment, raising an eyebrow. 

“No.” 

“What?”

“I said no. Why ruin something that’s going so well?” 

Silas was confused. “But if things are going well, why not try this? I mean... I really like you, Julian.” 

“And I like your body, Silas. I don’t do relationships. Yeah what we have is fun but I’m getting laid all the time. I’m not about to get tied down.” 

Silas swallowed, attempting to keep calm. “But you said you cared --” 

Julian sighed. “I said that in post-orgasm, Silas.” 

“You can’t just say stuff like that and not mean it.” 

“Well, I did.” 

He could feel his breathing picking up again. This wasn’t how things were going to go. Things were supposed to work out. They were supposed to be happy. He was supposed to be happy. He was supposed to work this out -- he was supposed to succeed at something. 

“Julian --” 

“I said no, Silas.” Julian had stepped towards him, placing his hands on the collar of his blazer and tugging a little bit. “Now if you can get that little fantasy out of your head so we can continue this night, we can go back to my place and rendezvous a little bit so you can forget all about it.”

Silas felt sick. He shook his head, pushing Julian back gently by his chest. “No. No I’m not going to do that. Who do you think you are? Fucking with my feelings only to throw me to the side?” 

“Silas we’ve been over this. What we have is purely physical.” 

A crowd was forming. Silas could feel his anger building. “You told me you cared. You told me that I made you happy. You told me that you saw something great in me.” 

“And I tell that to a lot of people that I sleep with. It’s nothing personal, Silas. It’s just who I am.” Julian shrugged and took a step back, taking a drink from one of the caterers passing by. 

“So what was I? Just a good fuck?” His voice was raising and he could feel his voice shaking. This wasn’t okay. Things weren’t going okay. 

“As much as I hate to say it, yeah. We’re friends with benefits, Silas, but we don’t exactly make the best of friends.” 

Silas shook his head. His hands were shaking as he pushed them through his hair; his throat was tight. He was about to say something more when a man stepped up to them. 

“Sir, if this is going to escalate I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” 

Silas shook his head again. “No sir, sorry. I was just leaving.” 

The man nodded and turned away. 

Silas turned back to Julian. “You can kiss my ass goodbye, Julian. You’re nothing but an asshole.” He ground out, turning once again on his heel and walking towards the door. 

He didn’t care that Julian didn’t follow him. He didn’t care that Julian didn’t have a way home. He didn’t care that Julian was probably flirting it up with everyone in the venue. Because now he saw it. Now he realized that when he and Julian were together -- all the time -- Julian’s head was elsewhere. Always searching for the latest fuck. Always searching for the next victim to lure in with his alluring eyes, his passionate heart and his body made of stone. And that’s what he hated the most, because now he saw it all. 

Clay was floating; or at least that was what it felt like. The tall boy was hovering somewhere between asleep and awake, his consciousness changing with each and every passing moment. The rhythmic beating of his heart continued to pose as the dreams only soundtrack, smashing against his chest and ringing within his ears. Looking around him in an attempt to decipher his location, Clay could feel his thick eyebrows furrow in confusion. He was standing atop the Brooklyn Bridge, looking down at the traffic as it flashed past him, all the vehicles blurring into lights and horns and nothingness. Under normal circumstances, Clay may have been frightened by the height—he may have fainted, actually, if this was a real situation. But it was a dream; and for some odd reason, Clay knew that. He was aware that this wasn’t real—and so he simply embraced the height, lifted his arms out on either side of him, and took a deep breath. The air was cooler than usual, considering it was nearing the end of June in New York. The wind whipped around him, tousling his dark brown hair and throwing a few strands into his eyes; but it didn’t bother Clay. He was far too transfixed with the view, the look of the city he had always called home. This newfound height seemed to put everything into perspective for Clay, and for a moment he felt nothing but peace; there was no worry within his heart. He didn’t think about Stanford, or Columbia, or the money problems he had almost always faced. He didn’t even take a moment to consider the love he had lost when he had hung up the phone on Clara the night before. No. Now was not the time.

Or was it?

Clay’s heartbeat increased rapidly just then. Beat, beat, beat, beat, beat. There was barely even a pause between each beat of his heart. “Clay,” A voice called. It was familiar—smooth, calm… no, it wasn’t calm. Frantic. The voice was frantic—and… afraid? Turning around to try and find the source of the sound, the scenery around him faded to black. Clay was no longer on the bridge. He was now falling, his arms and legs trying to grasp something to stop his fall… but there was nothing. And then Clay felt his eyes open, and he shot up suddenly. Disoriented, Clay’s hands grasped at the sheets beneath him… he was in his bedroom, lying on his bed. Choking out a near-silent shout, Clay heard the beating again—but this time, he realized it wasn’t his heart. It was someone knocking on his door… and they weren’t just knocking politely, no. They were knocking in a way that had Clay’s actual heart racing. Aggressively, frantically… as if another moment would cause them to die. And so Clay threw himself out of bed, though he immediately toppled to the floor, all thanks to the blankets that had been caught around his long legs. Groaning and reaching out to grab onto the corner of his desk, Clay forced himself to his feet. “Clay! Wake up!” The voice shouted again; and that was when the boy realized who it was. It was his mother.

“Yeah, yeah,” Clay mumbled, too quiet for it to be of any use to his mom. Rubbing absently at his eyes to try and wake himself up, Clay crossed the room and unceremoniously pulled open the door. Arching his back and squeezing his eyes shut, Clay stifled a yawn as he said, “Where’s the fire, huh?” But when Clay opened his eyes, he saw that it was not only his mom standing on the other side. As a matter of fact, she was now being flanked by two of New York cities finest—and judging by the nametags that were pinned just above their hearts, Officer’s Jameson and Kelly were two of the most powerful police officers. Their ranks said so. But that was not the only thing Clay could tell by simply looking—as his eyes widened and he met each of their eyes, he could tell something was very, very wrong. Clearing his throat and crossing his arms over his bare chest, Clay felt his stomach drop down towards his knees. “Uh—what’s goin’ on, mom?”

But when Clay turned to meet his mother’s eyes, she averted her dark brown gaze. And that was when the panic truly set in; his heart began to race and Clay could feel a bead of sweat fall down the back of his neck. Just as he opened his mouth to ask another question, one of the officers shock their head to stop him. Biting down on his tongue, Clay nodded, signaling for the officer to speak.

“I’m sorry to tell you this, son,” said Officer Jameson, his voice hoarse and deeper than Clay would have expected it to be. “But a friend of yours has been reported missing. We’re just here to ask you a few questions.”

Before the officer had even finished speaking, Clay was shaking his head. He ran a hand down his face, and closed his eyes for a short moment. Releasing a sigh that he had been holding in for far too long, Clay turned to Jameson and raised an eyebrow. “Who is it? God, if Kirby’s run off with another one of his damn conquests again, I am goin’ to lose my—“