****
Rust
Every night for two weeks following that evening, I took my sleeping bag, tarp, and pillow, and slept out in the field between our two houses.
The morning after Ancel had kissed me, I awoke to find No lifeless, lying at the bottom of his cage. His smooth, black feathers hadn’t felt the calming embrace of the wind in the sky since the day I’d found him under the tree.
The evening after Ancel had kissed me, the wind didn’t blow through the grass in the field, and the birds didn’t sing a single song. The sky above didn’t have a cloud to its name, and the sun hung a little lower in the auburn and rose sunset.
Ancel had left me too.
During
Rust
“It’s… powerful.”
“It doesn’t feel right,” I replied.
“Nothing ever feels right to you.” I could hear the gentle humor in his voice.
“Oh,” I said as I turned in my seat to look up at him. “I wouldn’t say that.”
A wide grin spread across his handsome face. Seth was standing behind my chair, hands in his trouser pockets, eyes gleaming brightly. He had light-blond hair that was always parted perfectly off to the side, and he wore a pair of thick, black-framed glasses that probably cost more than our tuition had for the past four years of art college.
Seth put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “Drinks tonight?”
“I can’t. I’m meeting up with Beth. Our last hoorah in the city before I head back to Heaven on Sunday.”
Seth frowned. “I can’t believe you’re going back to that town. You’re so much bigger than some little hamlet with one traffic light.”
I smiled sadly. “You know Heaven is my home. My parents are there. I belong there.”
“Then skip out on Beth tonight and spend the evening with me.” His fingers tickled the side of my neck. “It could be the last night we have together.”
Seth loved to romanticize everything. He was also a melodramatic solipsist who thrived on his own words and ideas. Everything was a piece of art to Seth. It was what first drew me to him. He saw the beauty in everything, and the tragedy along with it.
He visibly cringed. “You know how I feel about her, Rust. No tact.”
Seth and Beth didn’t get along, to say the least. Seth thought Beth was uncultured, and Beth thought Seth was stuck up. I liked Seth. I’d been drawn in by his powerful words and easy smile, but that’s all we were— smiles and talk. No one was free from his charms, and he used that to his advantage. Seth flirted— and slept— his way to the top, not that it mattered to me. From the first day I’d been in one of the art rooms working on a sculpture and he walked by and told me my hair was like flames licking my skin, he’d tried to press for more.
And even though I liked to flirt back with Seth and bask in all his charms, we just remained friends.
“Call me the next time you’re in town then, all right? We can go for coffee. I promise that I won’t try to lure you into my bed.” He said it with his eyebrow cocked.
I laughed. “A promise?”
“Well,” he countered. “Promise is a strong word. I retract it. My apologies.”
Standing up from my chair to face him, I said, “I’ll call you the next time I’m in town.”
He took my hand into his, brought it to his lips, and gently kissed my fingers. “Good-bye, Rust.”
Seth left with his bag slung over his shoulder. I sat back down on my little wooden stool and looked at my final school project— the one I’d been working on for months, and still didn’t feel was complete.
It was an installation piece— a large, circular hoop that was wrapped with natural, brown pieces of leather. In the center, I’d corded a web with light blue string, and on each thread hung feathers, gems, stones, a few twigs, and bones. When the art teacher first looked at it, he thought it was a dream catcher. I didn’t like that word: dream catcher. Why would I want to catch dreams? Dreams should be free to wander and explore, learning where they belong and to whom. I’d never want to hold something so precious in my hands.
But, the longer I looked at it, the more I saw that it did look like a dream catcher. And yet it never looked complete.
I stood up and went over to it, ran my fingers against the soft crow feathers I’d laced into the intricate pattern. Sighing, I grabbed my things, slipped on my jacket, made sure my name was on the project, and left the art studio. There was nothing else I could do at this point, so I might as well leave the project unfinished, and wait for my final grade. Even if I had a hundred years to work on it, I didn’t think it would ever be finished.
I made my way out of the large art campus and out onto the street. The walk back to my apartment was rich with tall, industrial buildings made of metal taller than the clouds themselves. Roads ran along every block, inside and out, giving opportunity for garbage to collect in their gutters. And street lights along every path, disturbing the glow of the stars, even during the darkest evenings.
I hated the city.
Everything was big and cold. I missed feeling the grass between my fingers, breathing fresh air, and seeing the stars at night. I missed the clouds in the sky, the vastness of looking far into fields and seeing absolutely nothing in the distance but the yellow ears of wheat. The city felt like a foreigner to me that never warmed up to my gentle touches. It was unrelenting and impersonal, even in all its stark beauty. I wasn’t at home here. I wanted to go home.
My cell phone rang in my jacket pocket. I pressed it to my ear and said, “Hello, Mom.”
“Hello, Rust,” she replied. “How are you, sweetie?”
“Homesick,” I answered honestly. “I don’t like it here.”
My mom chuckled. “I know. You get like that every time you go back to school after your summers at home. I don’t think you’re made for the city.”
“No. I’m definitely not made for the city. How’s Dad?”
My dad had a heart attack last year, and I worried about him every day. At one point, my mom had told me to stop calling and to focus on my schoolwork because calling her twice a day was driving her up the wall. I’d laughed, but still called every day or two.
The doctors didn’t know why my father had had a heart attack— he was relatively young, healthy, and kept active.
“Sometimes, these things just happen,” the doctor had said. “It’s a sad reality. Keep those you love close to you.”
“He’s doing fine,” my mom replied. “Much better now that he hired someone else to take over the shop part-time so he doesn’t have to work as much.”
“Mom, he doesn’t think that once I come home that I’ll—”
“Rust, you stop talking like that right now. Your father and I love and support all the decisions you make, including moving to the city to study art and teaching. He doesn’t expect, or want you to give up your dreams just to keep some silly family business in the family.”
The knot in my chest eased significantly. “I just want to make him proud.”
“I know, Rust. Now, enough about this. When are you coming home?”
“I’ll be boarding the train tomorrow afternoon, and should arrive back in Heaven in the evening. Are you still coming to pick me up from the train station?”
“Of course. We’ll both be there with bells on.”
We said our good-byes, and just as I was about to pocket my phone, it rang again.
“Hello?”
“Rust, listen, there’s a party tonight, and we absolutely must go,” Beth said on the other end of the line.
I chuckled. “And why’s that?”
“Everyone’s going to be there, including that guy I like, Derek. It’ll be our last big, fun thing in the city before Heaven sucks you back into that black abyss.”
“You know how I feel about parties.”
“Honestly, Rust, it’s Saturday night. What else do you want to do? Go to the nature museum— again?”
I sighed heavily and looked at the time
on my phone. “What time?”
“I’ll text you the address. Meet there in an hour?”
“Okay. See you there.”
I walked the remaining few blocks in silence. My apartment wasn’t in the nicest or most expensive area of town. In fact, it was small, cramped, and in one of the noisiest places I’d ever slept. But there wasn’t a lot I could afford on an artist’s salary.
I unlocked the gate to the complex, walked through the front door, up two flights of stairs, and down the long, dim hallway to my apartment. The lights flickered sometimes, and there was only one window against the far wall, allowing almost no natural lighting. Even in the hallway, I could hear other people’s television sets, and other people yelling at one another through the cardboard-thin walls.
Unlocking my front door, I slipped inside and dropped my heavy bag full of books and art supplies onto the puce carpet floor. I went to my closet and stripped off my old, paint-covered T-shirt and jeans, and put on a loose pale-yellow V-neck, along with a clean pair of black jeans. When I went into the bathroom to check on my hair, I paused for a moment to look at my reflection.
Over the years, some of my freckles had faded. Where there had once been dark starbursts of freckles across my face now was smooth, pale skin. I pushed my hair back off my forehead. Beth told me to get some new kind of hip haircut where the front was longer than the sides and the back, but I often ended up pinning it back with gold-plated barrettes to keep it out of my face. Palming the necklace my mother had given me years ago, I examined it for a few moments before slipping it over my head.
My phone, next to me on the sink, beeped with the address of the party, and I had just enough time to slick some blue eye shadow onto my lids before leaving.
The air outside was cool, and I was thankful that I’d worn a jacket. I knew it was only in my mind, but it always felt colder in the city than it did in Heaven. I felt like an intruder in a city that was trying to force me out. Even the city knew I didn’t belong here, that I was an unfamiliar something, and I needed to leave.
Just one more night, I thought as I climbed into the back of a cab and gave the driver the address of the party. We weaved through traffic in silence, listening to the soft, flowing music on the radio. The lights shone in through all the car windows, casting beautiful colors against the seat in front of me.
After thirty minutes, the cab driver pulled the car off to the side of the road and announced I was at my destination. I handed him some money, thanked him, and walked up to the front of the building.
The apartment building was far from mine, and in a much nicer, and more expensive area. Huge brick walls made up the outside of the building, while large, unmarked glass windows lined up row after row on every story.
I went to the front door and was buzzed inside.
When I made it to the top floor, I could already hear the sounds of the party in full throttle. I walked down the hallway in between beautiful, well-dressed strangers. They were drinking from red plastic cups and trying to yell to hear one another over the loud thumping of the bass coming from inside the apartment. The front door was open, so I let myself in, hoping to find Beth immediately, but being sorely disappointed by the enormous crowd of people. The music was loud and sounded posh; some girls were dancing in one empty corner of the apartment with beer bottles in their hands. The inside was much like the outside— brick walls; high, exposed ceilings; and dark wood floors.
I stood in the doorway unsure of what to do with myself.
“Hey!” someone yelled in my ear. “You made it!”
Beth grabbed my hand and dragged me through a hallway with glass windows into another section of the apartment where the music wasn’t as loud, but the crowd was still as thick.
“Here,” she said as she shoved a beer into my hand. “Drink this. You’ll have more fun.”
“Somehow, I doubt that,” I replied with a smile on my face.
And I hadn’t been wrong. Within an hour and a half, even more people packed into the vast apartment, and I wanted to leave. Beth had made me promise to stay for an entire two hours before throwing in the towel. I took another sip of my warm beer from where I was perched sitting on the corner of a granite countertop island in the kitchen. People around me were leaning against the counter, kissing, talking, making new drinks and doing shots of neon liquor. Beth was at the far end talking to the boy she liked. I was happy I stayed when I looked at the size of the smile on her face. She looked so happy, and I knew my small discomfort was more than worth being her moral support for the evening.
“Do you dye your hair?” the incredibly drunk girl next to me asked while she swayed on her heels.
Trying not to laugh, I replied, “No.”
“Well that’s just not fair,” she slurred.
I raised my eyebrows. “Maybe not for you.”
For some reason, she found this hysterical, and within a moment, I was laughing along with her for no reason at all.
After a few moments, she stumbled away, and I was left looking out into the crowded room once more. I went to take another sip of my beer, but when the smooth glass of the bottle was almost to my lips, I paused.
No, I thought. It couldn’t be him.
But my heart knew it was.
Across the wide room, surrounded by men and women on either side of him, was Ancel.
I almost hadn’t recognized him, given the time that had passed since I’d watched the heavy drops of rain catch on his eyelashes and run down his cheeks. It had been almost six long years, and each one of those was represented by the changes I saw in him.
He was taller, thicker across his already wide shoulders, the muscles in his chest and arms easily noticeable by the tight T-shirt he wore. His inky-black hair was the same color as the tattooed pictures that spiraled around his tanned arms.
The years had changed his face, turning his sweet, young features and making them into something much more handsome. Still, the persistent scowl he wore looked familiar.
Ancel looked so different, yet so much the same.
He looked… bad.
And I’d never wanted anyone more.
But he didn’t see me.
Of course he didn’t see me. Why would he? He probably didn’t even remember the spirited, red-haired boy from Heaven. Ancel was surrounded by people magnitudes more beautiful than I. Men and women leaned into him, touched his arms, his back, all wanting his attention. The years had done nothing to douse his allure. He was simply magnetic.
When he did look my way, I thought my heart might stop. It was just a quick glance through the sea of people, an easy flicker of his eyes over toward where I was. But then his eyes caught on mine, and I was hooked.
In the next second, Ancel was weaving himself through the crowd. He was coming to me.
He stopped in front of where I was sitting on the cool countertop. His voice sounded husky when he leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Little fawn, where have you been?”
I tried not to let my blush give too much away. The corner of his mouth twitched.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hi,” I replied.
“No crown of antlers today?”
I smiled down at my hands in my lap. “No.”
When I looked back up, his eyes were searching my face.
“Only blue makeup around your eyes and feathers in your hair,” he said.
“Yes,” I breathed.
For a moment, I thought he was going to smile. But that moment was fleeting. Instead, he asked me, “How’s No?”
My smile threatened to slip away. “Crows don’t live very long.”
“He seemed like a nice crow,” Ancel replied sincerely.
I tossed my head back and laughed. “Oh? And you know a lot of crows to compare him to?”
When Ancel did smile, it was breathtaking.
“My personal experience with crows has been very limited, I’m afraid. Exclusively No.”
“Well, you’re lucky then,” I
joked. “He was a lovely crow.”
“What are you doing here in the city?” he asked me.
“I’ve been here at college for the past four years. Studying art and education. And you?”
“I just moved here for business.”
“Business?” I raised an eyebrow.
He smirked. “Yes. Business.”
“What kind of business?”
He leaned forward and placed his hand on the counter next to mine. I could smell his cologne. He didn’t say a word.
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” I said. “Going back home. To Heaven.”
“Back to Heaven,” he repeated. “That’s where you belong, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” I’d never admitted something truer.
Someone walked by us, accidentally bumping Ancel closer toward me. Ancel looked over his shoulder, but didn’t put the small distance back between us. I was easily distracted by the smell of his aftershave, and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat when he swallowed. My eyes followed his throat downward to his wide shoulders, then to the beautifully illustrated tattoos that wrapped around his arms.
“Hey,” I said as I leaned closer and ran my fingertips along his skin. “You have a tattoo of a crow with a broken wing.”
Ancel didn’t reply. He just reached out and carefully touched one of the pastel feathers I had woven into my hair.
When I looked up at him, his eyes were clouded as he stared vacantly at the feather.
Not reason, nor common sense, nor fear could’ve stopped me just then; I tilted my head up and kissed him.
And oh, it felt like fireworks were going off in my heart. It felt the same as before but so much bigger, so much better, so much closer to being a reality instead of a memory. He tasted like orange soda and cigarettes. Whether it was because of shock, or instinct, or something else entirely, for just a moment, he kissed me back.
And in the next moment, he tore away.
Some of his friends behind him were laughing, some others staring at us and swearing.
“What the hell are you doing?” Ancel yelled at me.
I froze solid. I thought my chest was going to cave in when I looked up into his face. Horror rippled through my body as the pangs of humiliation began to set in.
Without thinking, I slid off the counter and headed for the door. The people who’d been standing around watching all parted ways and then immediately went back to what they’d been doing before. I made it through the front door of the apartment when Ancel snapped my name and grabbed my arm. I yanked my arm away from him without even looking back. I thought of the way the other boys at school used to call my name, grab me, shove me into the pavement, or against the school lockers. But Ancel wasn’t like that. At least, he never used to be. But I knew if the years had changed him into that kind of person, my heart couldn’t take it.
So I ignored him when he called my name, and ran toward the elevator. I slipped in between the doors and rapidly pressed the close doors button on all the people in the hallway watching me. Just as the doors were almost closed, Ancel came blundering down the hallway.
“Rust!” he called out as he sprinted toward me. He stopped just outside the elevator doors.
I self-consciously brushed my hair back off my face and willed all the pooled-up tears in my eyes not to spill.
“I’m sorry, Ancel,” I said softly as I pressed the elevator button to take me to the ground floor. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted. And I was hoping you felt it too.”
The doors closed between us. I heard him shout something and slam his fist against the metal.
By the time I was outside, I was cursing the sky itself. I’d been such an idiot to think someone like me could even stand next to a man like Ancel. I took a deep breath and looked up into the sky as I walked.
I missed Heaven.
I missed the field behind my house, the owls that nested in the tall grass, the birds that lived in the trees, the pathways of dirt I’d walked along my entire life. I longed for the loving touch of the summer sun against my cheeks, the autumn breeze whipping at my hair, the spring songs the robins sang, and the frosty flakes of ice on pinecones in the winter. There was no other place on the entire planet that was more peaceful than the field behind my house— no other place that welcomed me with a full, caring embrace the way it did.
I remembered taking a kite my father gifted me out into the field. Once I’d seen the lovely pink and green material, my hands began to shake with excitement. No, who was sitting on my shoulder, began squawking, and I could tell that he was jealous. So one particularly windy spring day, I’d gone out into the field behind my house, No perched on my shoulder, and flown a kite. And since No had looked upon the newest love of my life so jealously, I’d taken his feathers that he’d shed over the years and tied them into the long string that attached the kite to the spool. Hours had ticked by, but No and I barely noticed. We were both too in love with the wind and the sky and the clouds.
Before I knew it, I was standing in front of my apartment building. I’d walked the entire way home and hadn’t even noticed.
I took the stairs up to my apartment slowly, head hanging low. I probably looked like a defeated man, because I was just that. Stopping in front of my apartment door, I fumbled with the keys before sliding them into the lock.
“Rust!”
Startled and off-balance, I quickly spun around.
Ancel was standing a few feet away from me, breathing heavily, looking wild.
“Ancel,” I said softly as he came closer.
“It struck me too, Rust.”
“What did?” I asked, my voice unsteady.
“Lightning.”
And then he shoved me against my apartment door, jangling the keys still hanging from the lock, and kissed me.
This time when Ancel kissed me, it wasn’t sweet and unsure like our first kiss in the rain had been. It was bordering on uncontrolled. I let out a startled gasp, and he used that as an excuse to slide his tongue into my mouth and lick the inside of my teeth.
He wrapped one of his thick arms around my waist to pull me in closer, the other running up to tangle in my hair. I put my hands on either side of his face, feeling the stubble under my palms. One of his knees went in between my legs as he pressed against me tightly to turn the door handle. The door swung open, but Ancel wouldn’t— or couldn’t— let me go. I stumbled in backward with Ancel’s lips against my throat. My eyes were closed, but I heard him kick the door closed behind us as he pushed me inside my dark apartment and down the hall.
I was thankful, just then, that my apartment was as small as it was, because Ancel navigated me directly to my bedroom without having to ask where it was.
The lights were off— just the gentle glow from the streetlights and billboards outside lit the room with a blanket of colors. Sounds from televisions in other apartments buzzed through the walls, as well as the far-off traffic noise from the outside world.
Ancel laid me down gently on my bed, following along with me. He propped himself up on his arms, again pressing his knee up in between my legs. I knew he could feel how much his body was affecting me, and that alone brought a warm heat to my face and chest.
He leaned down to kiss me again, slower now, taking his time. One of his hands ran up my side and slipped under my shirt to rub along my flank. Just the feel of his rough, calloused hands against my bare skin was enough to make me ache.
“Please,” I whispered, although I was unsure what I was asking for.
Please, what? Please touch me more? Please don’t stop kissing me? Please never leave me again?
I had no idea what I was asking for, but judging by the way Ancel’s hands were suddenly pulling up the hem of my shirt, he seemed to understand. He pulled off my shirt and tossed it to the side. Within the next second, he pulled his T-shirt up over his head and tossed it off the bed as well.
Ancel’s entire chest was a collage of tattoos. Each one had been done with black ink and
precise, careful detail. I sat up so we were inches apart. Gently, I reached out and ran the tips of my fingers against a black illustration of a wolf that lingered along the side of his body. Under my touch, I felt him shiver. Unable to stop myself, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to an illustration of a flock of birds in a dark, night sky that ran up the side of his muscled stomach.
“Rust.” He said my name with a hitch in his breath.
When my eyes flickered up, he was already looking down at me, lips parted, breathing heavily. I continued my trail of kisses up from his stomach, grazing over one of his nipples, to his collarbone, then slowly up his neck. By the time I made it to the soft skin behind his ear, his grip on my hips was bruising.
Without warning, he shoved me back down onto the bed. He hovered over of me and whispered in my ear. “Please, Rust, say I can touch you. Say it’s all right that I touch you.”
“Of course…” My voice trailed off when he began touching me through the material of my jeans.
“Will you say the words, Rust?”
It took my mind a moment to catch up with my body. “Yes. Touch me, Ancel.”
He didn’t need any more coaxing. The buttons were soon snapped open, and then he was pulling my jeans down and off my legs, along with my briefs.
Up on his knees, he looked down at my naked body. I momentarily wondered if he could see the red-hot flush that was covering my skin.
“God,” he said, putting his hand on my chest and trailing down my body. “Look at all these freckles.”
I covered my face with my hands, and he chuckled. He took my wrists in his hands and pinned them over my head when he leaned in to press his lips to mine.
“You’re beautiful,” Ancel said.
Pulling my hands out of his grip, I reached down in between us and undid the button of his jeans. When he didn’t pull away from me, I slid my hand past the waistband of his pants and underwear. He was hot in my palm and groaned into my ear the moment my thumb began to move in circles. His eyes were heavy and his cheeks were pink as he stared down at me.
He moved back off the bed, and began shedding his pants and underwear. I couldn’t help but watch, trying not to let my breath hitch when I finally saw him peel his underwear off, along with his socks. He was beautiful— perfect— sculpted from marble or iron or gold. The most wonderful things in life held no flame near him. His body showed signs of the hardships of his past: raised, smooth marks— red, angry gashes, even through his tattoos. But each scar on him was right where it was meant to be. He was perfect.
Ancel grabbed a square, reflective packet and held it in his hand as he crawled back on top of me.
“Roll over, little fawn.” He began tonguing my navel, and if he would’ve asked me my own name just then, I wouldn’t have known it.
He chuckled when I failed to do anything but squirm. Carefully, he eased me over onto my stomach. I felt the weight of him press heavily between my cheeks.
When Ancel ran his tongue up the back of my neck, he asked, “Do you have anything?”
“Oh,” I moaned into the pillow as I squeezed my eyes shut. Ancel reached around me and, painfully slowly, began jerking me off.
“Rust,” he said again, playfully biting my shoulder.
“Wh-what?” I managed to get out in between gasps.
“Do you have any lube, sweetheart?” Ancel buried his nose in my hair. His entire body pressed against mine, waiting.
My heart sank.
“N-no,” I answered. “I don’t. I’ve never— I mean, I haven’t…”
Ancel’s entire body froze. Then, seconds later, he pressed his forehead in between my shoulder blades and made a noise close to a growl.
“Fuck, Rust.”
I couldn’t think. I was horrified that he might stop touching me, that all of this had been in vain, that I’d never once feel closer to him than I did now.
Just as I was about to turn over, one of his hands pressed down on my lower back, while a slick finger from his other hand pressed inside me.
I yelped at the feeling of the cold, foreign sensation.
“Shhh,” he whispered into my ear. “I found lotion. I’ll be gentle, and slow. You deserve nothing less.”
I fisted the bed sheets under me, trying not to float up off the bed and into the stars when he slid another finger inside me. He was painfully gentle, careful almost to the point of annoyance. I didn’t know what I wanted, but I knew it was something more than the slow in and out, in and out he was giving me.
By the time I was finally ready to roll over and demand he tell me just what he was trying to accomplish at this pace, his fingers withdrew. My breath hitched when I heard the ripping of the foil packet and then felt him slowly beginning to push inside of me.
I yelped into the pillow. Ancel leaned down and whispered things in my ear that I knew he didn’t really mean. He told me I was beautiful, special, and that he’d been waiting his whole life just to touch me. My mind didn’t believe him, but my heart knew nothing different. It swelled at his words, preening and sure.
He shifted his weight above me, and with one final push, he was fully inside. I’d never felt more complete in my life. And then he began moving, and I forgot all about Heaven and the field back home.
Flecks of sweat from his body dripped onto my back as he slowly rocked into me. He pressed his forehead against the back of my neck and told me things I didn’t understand. One of his hands went to my hip, pulling me up a little closer to him. The other hand carried on its sweet torture as he jerked me off.
I began panting heavily, feeling him bringing me closer and closer to the edge. Then, Ancel moved his hips in just this certain way that caused something deep inside me to ignite.
“Ancel,” I whimpered.
“I know, I know,” he chanted. He kissed the back of my neck, causing all the fine hairs to stand up.
Just as I was about to fall over the edge, I began to beg him. “Please don’t leave me again. Please don’t go.”
I knew it was pathetic. I knew how desperate and needy my voice sounded. I didn’t care. Those words, that request, they were all I had. I had nothing left to lose— nothing besides him— not that he’d even been mine at all. If it made me a lesser man to beg for him, then I would be a lesser man.
My orgasm washed over me like that first wave of ocean water hitting your chest as you waded into the expansive blue depths of Mother Nature. It was soothing— calming— but forceful, rocking me backward, pushing me, making me feel so damn human.
I cried out, saying something that didn’t even sound like words. Ancel wrapped his arm snugly around my stomach and held me steadily. He pressed against me like maybe he’d decided to answer my prayers after all, like he’d never once even fathomed letting me go.
His body shook, and he said my name just once before I felt all the tension leave him in one fast rush.
I collapsed onto the bed beneath him, but instead of following me down, he pulled off. Listening to the sound of his footsteps carry down the hallway, I waited, my heart racing, for him to come back to me.
When he returned, he lay down on the bed to my side. I turned over to face him. His hands were behind his head, his eyes pointed up at the yellow stucco ceiling and the wood-paneled fan.
After a few moments, I whispered, “Is it always like that?”
He turned his head slightly to look down at me. The expression on his face grew dark as his cool eyes pierced mine. Trouble, hurt, pain was all his face spoke of. He looked like a man who’d just been sentenced twenty-five to life.
After a moment, he turned away and stared back up at the ceiling fan. “No. It’s not.”
He was sullen now. All trace of the passionate, gentle man he’d been just moments before was completely stolen away by my question.
“Have I done something wrong?” I asked quietly. I stared at a tattoo of a deer on the back of his arm.
Ancel pressed the heels of his hands into his closed eyelids. I moved t
o get off the bed, but he immediately reached out and grabbed me.
“No, Rust.” His eyes showed no flicker of untruth. “It could never be you. Nothing about you could ever be wrong.”
He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me back so I was sitting on top of him. The fake, charming smile I’d seen him use before threatened to make an appearance. Instead, a rare, breathtaking smile made its own debut.
It was only then as I looked down at him that I noticed it. I frowned, unsure how I hadn’t seen it earlier.
I reached out, slowly, as though I were afraid it was a figment of my imagination and it would disappear in a puff of smoke. But when I touched it, it felt just as solid, just as real as the day I’d made it.
I ran my fingers along the chipped paint on the teeth that had worn duller with age. The feather was ragged, the strip of leather thin. But of course none of that mattered. It was the necklace I’d made for him when we were just boys. I’d have known it anywhere, because even though I’d been just a child, I’d put a piece of my soul into it.
Wrapping my fingers around it tightly, I met his eyes. He was unblinking. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.
“You’ve kept it all these years?” I had to ask. Ancel moved his hand to trace my collarbone with his thumb.
“You know, Rust,” he said evenly, his fingers brushing against my skin. “I don’t think I’ve seen the sun in years. Or the sky. I haven’t felt the wind blow through my hair, or the rain tickle my skin.”
I clenched the necklace even more tightly in the palm of my hand, the jagged edges digging into my skin.
Ancel looked up at me again. “I’ve forgotten what it feels like— all of it. Summer, winter, snow, rain, wind, fresh air, thunderstorms. I miss the sun, Rust. I miss it so damn much. Show me again what it feels like.”
I spent the rest of the night showing him.