[ while timbo now resides in a very big house, it makes him all the more curious to explore, get lost...get a lil drowsy..., and explore some more. he literally spends hours traversing and sneaking with his clunky boots around all the hallways, playing around and poking at closed doors.
but, none of them were opening for poor sleepy timbo. he can’t stop yawning, leaning on his shoulder against the wall as he forgets to cover his open mouth. he’s been up to meeting more people all day, and it’s very exhausting for his awkwardly shuffling legs.
finally, he finds one open door, a very comfortable looking bed directing his attention the most. timbo only possesses half the mind to glance around for the ghosts of the rest of the other inhabitants, maybe wondering why the door is open...or who the room belongs to. he ultimately couldn't help but become drawn to it though, especially since he already lost the way to his own room, practically floating toward the most comfortable mattress that he’s ever seen. it may be the brightness of the room that attracts him like tiny bugs to an outside lamp.
since he receives no sense of danger inside or around the room, so he decides to do it. he shifts into his panther form seamlessly, and hops into the bed. his movements are so reckless, yet so natural. all of his landing weight causes the mattress and frame creak loudly, especially as he twists and turns, pawing at the tucked sheets, unraveling them until he becomes perfectly comfortable.
before he knows it, he’s snoozing, purring, his throat vibrating as he partially hangs his face off the side of the bed. it surely didn’t take long for him to doze off whatsoever. ]
[ lockhart is walking aimlessly around the house, getting hit by surges of unbelievable boredom that are only drowned by his subsequent feeling of relief upon realizing that the lack of ... happenings includes those of the fucked up kind, which he joyously experienced a week ago. you know, when he was still alive and available for casual torture and teeth extractions sans anaesthesia. still, the inactivity is getting to him and there’s only so many wall street articles he can read before he simultaneously feels nostalgia and vague disgust over his previous occupation. life, really. a concept his once ambitious self felt pride for and his current one regret. he is lost in his thoughts, his footsteps on the corridor long replaced by complete silence. he is looking to his right, the target of his vision soft and blurred. he blinks and focuses, realizing quite abruptly that he’s seeing julius put his jacket on through his half-opened door. he’s leaving the house. lockhart clears his voice. ]
Hey kid, you’re going out?
[ he wonders if this was a mistake, if julius will get upset, thinking lockhart is looking at him dress through a half-open door like some kind of peeping tom. he’s not sure if andrew told julius of his sexual orientation but being seen as the house pervert, preying on the young is the last thing he wants. plus, the kid seems a bit ... fragile and it would explain the absence of any communication in the last few days. act cool. act straight. ]
finding himself in a motel room with
a single bed for him and julius to
share, jason struggles relax once
he hears the bathroom door creak
open behind his back, followed by
the sqeaks and rocks of pressed
bedsprings, wherefore his body
furls up at once. the touch of another
boy has not been the same since he
received his first kiss from one.
though he can still rough and tumble
with them, a blush is always close to
show before the wrestling ends and
they disentangle their legs and arms.
the touch of another boy has not been
the same since then. now jason trembles
if he does not force himself to recite the
lie that fright has spun for him.
i do not like boys.
i do not like boys.
i do not like boys.
slowly his eyes begin to flutter in their
rest at the moth-eaten wallpaper, knees
shying further off the mattress. there is no
monster under the bed, but if fangs were
to wrest him, he tells himself that he will
become its friend, and if not that, then
may whatever is to come be of his fate.
“... ‘Night...”
, jason hurries to mumble before
unconsciousness ascends his spine, kissing
his eyes goodnight before it covers his
weary head and opens its journal, riffling
through its pages until it comes across an
unwritten page. dotting the nib on the tip
of its tongue, it writes down,
“o blood, though you shine bright in the light,
grant this son an image of his face. o blood,
though you are too scarce, grant this son a
feel of his beat. o blood, though you chronicle
like i, grant this son mercy with me tonight.”
(...)
mistaken for the cotton of a shirt, jason
has gathered the comforter between his
knuckles, and as his cheek sinks further
into the pillow, the supposed garment is
pulled closer to himself and further off
of julius, robbing him of the blanket’s
warmth from his waist up as it rustles away.
[ once he’s taken a bottle of blue gatorade
to lockhart and made sure he’s drinking it,
andrew leaves his room once again and
heads for julius’. he’d promised to bring
lockhart by to see him just as soon as
he’d spoken to him himself to ensure
he’s alright after the frightful events of
the night prior, and intends to make good
on this vow. that’s what brings him knocking on
julius’ door, disheveled, exhausted, still clad in his
clothes from the day before and definitely in need
of a shower, but more than anything determined
to make sure everyone in the house feels safe. ]
they say that a journey cannot become
an adventure until you err and indulge in
shenanigan, and lo and behold jason and
particularly julius seem to already have
become captivated with the warm buzz
within their chests as their stay at a
susceptible stranger’s stable is about to
become far from docile...
after endless roaming on bumpy
country-roads, passing yards of wheat
and the occasional corn maze, they had
become stuck in another maze --- one
with neither walls nor beast to trap them,
but brought into creation from julius’
unfortunate misreading of their map,
crimped and wet from afternoon dew.
whether it was luck or the will of a higher
order when julius had won back jason’s
trust by grabbing his hand before telling
him of the hunch that was writhing in his
stomach, lost its importance once it had
guided them off a road paved with coyotes
and instead down one with auspicious shrubs
and, eventually, a couple of rustic barns.
just like it had been thanks to julius’ intuition
that they ended up in a benevolent but lone
farmer’s home, it was also thanks to him that
they got welcome to sleep through the night
in their horses’ stable, surrounded by numerous
barns, on two sole conditions; “don’t disturb my
horses, and don’t complain if you leave tomorrow
morning with darker circles 'neath your eyes
because their whinnies and neighs shoo’ed
mr. sandman away”.
jason is sure that julius had heard them. it was
after all he who stood before him, smiling and batting
his eyelashes every now and then for them to find
trust in him like jason had found in him before, too.
natheless is he now opening a gate that belongs to
one of their horses while jason’s lying on the bed of
hay that they were told to fall asleep on before the
hour of the wolf strikes. despite the solar lantern being
their only source of light besides the brightness to
summer nights, jason notes how the horse’s white,
freckled fur secludes it from its hoofed friends, and once
the rustling sound confirms that julius is on its side of the
fence, the horse appears to be standing twice as tall on
its horseshoes than julius does on the soles of his boots.
jason’s eyes are all big and blue from their budding yet
disrupted sleepiness when his lips finally part for him to
whisper at the boy he hadn’t foreseen to become a
rule-breaker, even less so whilst being at the place of
stranger with a calm but much taller horse by his side.
the day has arrived—jason and julius are to
be off. two-and-a-half-thousand miles away
mexico is awaiting them in its early summer;
days doused in the scent of its evergreen
frangipanis and honeysuckles which entices a
dozen of fluttering hummingbirds, igniting
scintillas in the sky with their iridescent plumage
when hit by the sun. jason would be lying if he
were to say that his insides aren’t reverberating
excitement as he rolls the motorcycle to the stoop
where julius is guarding their luggage and pushes
its main stand down with his boot, then placing the
new helmet he received from harry at christmas
on the lowest step before pulling his own off his
head. it’s not until he has detangled his locks
and brushed it from his eyes that he truly sees
julius waiting up there with the eastern sunshine
braiding into his blond curls. if he were to be
honest, jason hadn’t thought that it’d ever truly
come to this. there has been plenty of time for
the other to make up his mind, lay it off, and sign
a deal to forget about it, but he didn’t. nor did he
ever indicate that it has crossed his mind,
leaving jason alone to brood about it by himself
whenever his mind found an opportunity to.
however, although they’ve gathered everything
they’ll need to leave after these months, there’s
still time for julius to opt out. thus, whilst carrying
his helmet against his abdomen and walks up
the steps to grab his own duffel bag as his eyes
keep themselves onto julius’, jason offers him
his last chance for consideration while the sun’s
kindles his silhouette with its pink halo from the back:
[ the late morning sunlight filters into the
kitchen as andrew waits by the microwave,
heating up a hot pocket for breakfast on this
lazy day off from work. julius happens to be
standing just a foot away, preparing a cup of
tea for himself in a steaming mug. andrew observes
him with his eyes and lens as he anticipates his
food, at first casually, but then with increasing
concern when he notices that julius’ hands are
shaking as he dips the teabag into the water.
it’s been several days since the incident in the
bathroom on the new year, and he’d thought
that after they’d parted julius would be feeling
better, but he now has a creeping suspicion
that his anxiety has prevailed much longer.
reaching up to stop the microwave just
before it can beep and startle his
shell-shocked friend, andrew asks, ]
a collab of sorts with frida, @juliefinn. what’s in italics and bold is written by her, through and for julius. it’s wonderful. thank you again.
how lovely it is, to walk by themselves with interlocked fingers. “we're now humbly approaching your throne father, and thank you for this day that we've awoken to.” baby’s breaths rests behind julius’ ear while the rest is kept in his love’s pendent hand. it chimes by his side after the lilt of their footsteps, treading lithe and lissome by nemophilias and bellflowers. the lady of the meadow and her hand of gossamer reaches out to him, brushing a warm tear off his cheek. a smile tickles forth on his lips, reddened from sucking on the remnants of his love’s. “thank you for the warmth of a body beside us to protect us from loneliness and nightmares.” on their knees, inside the woven shade of their trousers, stains of dirt and grass hide. as does the little case of wood and velvet in jason’s pocket. what once had a dwelling inside of it, has tread out to be carried by them both, one on either’s ring finger, interwoven as they walk past congratulating birches. “thank you for this home that we can live in together. thank you for your teachings and thank you for your patience with us.
as they reach the brook they earlier had hopped across on coarse rocks, jason admires julius from behind while clutching his hand. gloved by his larger one, it fits perfectly and does not threaten to slip out as his love leads them forward. it was once so cold, so very cold that he could not keep them warm, regardless of how fast or hard his blood pulsed. “years ago we were both in bad places father, and when we met the sun started to shine again.” but the sunlight has thickened since then. it glosses over their skin and kisses them aglow. their cheeks have come to know smile and laughter again. god knows they have. “there are still very hard days for me, but with jason here i feel like i can make it through.” as do themselves, from caressing out the soreness out of them. as do they, from seeing a brighter self reflect back at them with its light, seeping through all and enveloping naked tissue in its gauze. “please give me strength and ability to be there for him just like he is there for me.” and as do their beloved friends; their joy chronicled in pictures and tapes to be revisited in dreams and memory. “give us strength to practice the fruitage of the spirit to everyone, but most importantly to each other.”
indeed, they all know, and jason climbs up the small hill with julius, he can see it all around him. he does not let go off his lashes, off his mouth until he feel the white roses glide out of the buttonholes of his suit jacket. “help us remain faithful and help us confide in each other even during hard times.” his fingers come to catch them, but with only one hand to do it, jason halts and julius looks as he, too, comes to stop, right below the road. “help me put my faith in him and help jason put his faith in me.” hugging his hand tighter, he climbs down the arm’s length and helps him nudge the roses back in place. “help us keep our love as pure as untainted as love is supposed to be.” while they are whole alone, they are yet one of two, and the hand who furthers jason’s he does not know any less than he does his own. nor the mouth he kisses back up; warm ‘i love yous’ passing back and forth among soft giggles while they wait for the bus that will carry them home.
“thank you lord for letting us find each other. thank you for andrew and please bless him during every step of his life and guide him to heaven when it's time. guide him gently and hold his hand for he deserves it.”
fortunately the bus is empty when they board it. not that it had ought to be, but to lie with their heads on each other and touch the opal which dresses the other’s finger in peace and quiet is a blessing. so much is. “bless jason and his gentle soul.” julius’ heartbeat against his own after shifting onto his lap is one. “bless jason and his humble heart.” as is his breathing, pressing onto him with each rise to his ribcage and jason’s reaching back each time it falls. “bless jason and his kind mind.” it’s all a blessing, that his love’s alive despite what has cast upon him—despite what has grabbed his ankles and had him stay where life does not tread. “give him strength to stay on the path he is walking in lieu of the road he used to wander.” it is a blessing, that jason could work the whitethorn out of his ankles and lick his wounds for him as his mouth became too familiar with the taste of suffering. “help him receive peace and help him find solitude in me.” they share more than a face. from today onwards they share a name, and jason, whose fear no longer torments him as it used to, feels that they share a fate. somehow, he feels they always have, that this has been within them all along; unknown to themselves until it awoke from slumber two years ago. “bless him and his intentions for i love all of him so.”
so when they at home kneel on each side of their bed with their hands clasped across from each other, jason does not interrupt julius’ prayer in either word or thought for it reverberates through himself, despite how long his soul has gone raging at god for what man has done. “please god, please bless me despite the things i've done.” though unlike his love, he cannot keep his eyes closed. no, he is not quite ready yet. “i've been unhappy for so long but now i finally feel happy again, now that i have met jason. thank you lord for leading him to me and thank you for opening my heart for his to take.” he is not ready to stand before their father if not beside him, and he does not dare to take the risk of facing him behind shut eyelids. hence he tells him this quietly in conjunction, asking for patience and forgiveness until the day he may throw his burden upon him. “help me stay away from bad thoughts and help me be the husband he deserves. help me stay away from anything that can hurt him.”
and with his blues softly touching julius’ face before his heart and soul... “may our souls rest together when it is time for us to join you in heaven.” he asks to return all his blessings to him, his darling dove, in selfless, everlasting love.
before they in unison end their prayer with, “and we pray this to you, through your son jesus christ, amen.”
