One humid July night, Ben decided that he’d had enough. He had been staring at the red led light of the clock, unable to sleep. Tired of temptation, he threw off the sheets, grabbing the key after he had dressed. Once outside, he walked the familiar path he had followed so many nights before. He could have walked it with his eyes closed.

He tried to brush aside the fear welling up inside him as he used the key. Two months had passed. Would it still work? Was there an alarm system now? The small click only worsened his feelings of anxiety. It might have been better if the key hadn’t worked. Now there was so much more to face.

Moonlight poured through the window in Tim’s room, allowing him to see that little had changed. He ignored the shape in bed and walked instead to the window. Ben looked up at the moon and said a silent prayer to it that he might be strong enough, before staring down at the empty backyard where everything had fallen apart. Ben listened to the sound of Tim’s breathing until he could resist no longer and went to him, sitting on the corner of his bed.

He studied the curve of Tim’s shoulder, following the line down to a tan arm pressed tight against the white sheet. Ben’s heart ached. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch his skin, to slip underneath the sheets and wrap his arms around him. Together they would lay for all eternity, the world crumbling to dust around them, so that nothing could ever stand in their way again.

Ben stood and Tim stirred in his sleep, rolling over onto his back. His face was hidden in shadow, but Ben could see enough to make him want to weep. He was so handsome, so beautiful. Inside and out. Ben leaned forward, bringing his lips as close to Tim’s as possible without actually kissing him.

Then Ben pulled away. As he left he hung the key that Tim had given him on the doorknob. He glanced one final time at the bed as he closed the door, and saw light reflecting off Tim’s open eyes. Ben didn’t hesitate or stall. The moon had granted his request. He was strong as he shut the door and walked out into the dark, lonely night.

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Part Two:

Chicago, 1999

__________

Chapter 16

Snow. Freezing, eye-stinging, finger-numbing snow. Had he ever really wished for such weather in Texas? The bottom five inches of Ben’s jeans were soaking wet as he tromped through the damnable substance. TV had given him a false impression of snow. Sure, it was beautiful when it first started falling, the blanketed mounds inspiring warm Christmassy thoughts, but that was just the beginning. The honeymoon stage. It didn’t take long for Chicago’s infamous traffic to turn it all into ugly gray slush.

A warm glow from a coffee shop window beckoned, promising warmth and dryness. Ben had never developed a taste for coffee, but surely there would be something else in there he could drink. One of those weird Italian sodas where you could choose the flavor, or maybe a hot cocoa. He paused on the sidewalk a moment before forcing himself onward to his apartment. He had a date with Mason.

Of course it was Mason’s fault that he was running late. Last-minute Christmas shopping on a shoestring budget had taken most of the day. To even worry about being tardy was silly. Mason suffered from chronically late syndrome, always an hour late if not more. That was the inspiration for buying the pocket watch. This scheme had failed Ben’s mother three years ago, but he had found the idea charming. The watch was sterling silver, suited his own tastes, and hadn’t been engraved. Even with Christmas just around the corner, Ben knew there was a fair chance that he and Mason would no longer be an item.

In the twenty days they had been together, Mason had burned through three different jobs. When Ben had first met him, Mason had been the punky bartender at Mertyl’s, an out-of-the-way lesbian bar. Ben had instantly fallen for his bad boy appeal. The colored hair, piercings, and poorly realized tattoos were in complete contrast to the preppy pretty boys or delicate artistic types on campus. Most students had at least one of these rebellious elements, but there was something genuinely trashy about Mason.

The job at the bar ended abruptly among rumors of money missing from the register. Next there was the construction job at an outlet mall, something Mason’s ripcord muscles might be suited to, but this only lasted two days. Ben was never sure what had happened, although he suspected a marathon drug binge had gotten in the way. Mason was currently working retail at a music store. At least he had been a few days ago when Ben had seen him last.

With a prayer of gratitude to any god listening, Ben hurried into the minimal amount of warmth his apartment building afforded. Apartment was a laughable term, as the tiny living areas barely qualified as dorms and the slumlord owner knew it. Except for a few senior citizens and eccentrics, all ten stories of the building were inhabited by students who didn’t want to live on campus. The concept had sounded so grown up to Ben at the time, but the reality was far from glamorous.

Ben bit the tips of his gloved fingers and pulled his hand free. He struggled with numb digits to find the keys and unlock the door to his apartment. The smell of cigarette smoke greeted him as he entered. Mason was here. Ben called out, puzzling over the darkness of the apartment. Was Mason sleeping?

Ben entered the living room that was barely big enough for a couch and flipped on a light. After a two-second delay, the light came on, revealing a blank spot in the corner. After a moment Ben realized that the twenty-two inch TV was missing. Fear tiptoed up his spine. He had been robbed! That wasn’t the frightening thought. The idea that the robber might still be lurking in the apartment was.

Ben went next to the closet-sized kitchen to fetch the biggest, and only, cutting knife he owned. Wielding it like a thief detector, he made a sweep of the rooms. Considering the apartment’s size, this didn’t take long. Whoever had been there was gone, but had taken Ben’s TV and boombox. The six-pack of beer that Ben had begged a friend to buy earlier in the day was also missing from the fridge.

Ben didn’t need to play Sherlock Holmes and examine the sole cigarette butt in the ashtray, but he did anyway. The familiar generic brand underlined Mason’s name in triplicate, which was overkill since it was already highlighted and accompanied by a row of exclamation points.

Oh, well, Ben mused, one less present to wrap.

He threw himself on the couch, too despondent to take off his winter jacket. The worst part was yet to come. Ben could deal with the loss of his crappy TV or the beat-up old boombox, but being single for the holidays would leave him free to entertain old ghosts that he would rather forget. Still, there were a few days left. Maybe that was enough time to fall in love with someone new.

Ben finally looked to the blinking red light that had been clamoring for his attention. At least Mason hadn’t stolen the answering machine. Hell, maybe he called to leave a drunken apology. Ben wouldn’t put it past him. He rose and jabbed at the machine, which beeped in protest before playing its message.

“Ben?” The voice was strained. “It’s me.”

Allison? She sounded so different that he could barely be sure it was her. Something was wrong.