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The Battle of Moltenburg {slash warning}

"The Battle of Moltenburg" [warning: slash]

I-The Meeting

A car, black and sleek, sat in front of a house, a large mansion. A cold blew from the west and swept up the golden leaves resting on the brick road.

A young man crawled out from the car, his clothing matching the car’s shade of color. Another cold breeze, almost freezing, again blew from the west and ruffled up his fine golden hair. He knew he had been waiting for this moment. Thomas Valerie had finally been able to meet his best friend. Actually, he came here to investigate something, something he kept hidden deep within his heart.

The formerly-dressed man began taking his first steps up the front porch stairs, when he noticed that none of the aging glass windows showed any sign of a light within the mansion. This gave him a chill, which ran down his long spine and urge him to turn back.

He knew he mustn’t turn away. If he did, he would be proven a coward. The best choice would be to stay put and to carry out his duty.

He found his courage once again, and stopped at the large wooden door. He looked at the intricate designs carved into the door. Since it was dark at the moment, he couldn’t correctly determine how the designs were supposed to appear to the human eye.

Reluctantly, he raised his fist and quite firmly, knocked on the door three times.

At first, no trace of life could be seen or heard.

Just as Thomas was about to turn his head to start his way back home, the door swung open.

There, in the doorway, stood a man around his own age. In fact, he was quite similar in appearance to Thomas. This man was strikingly handsome, yet seemed to possess some effeminate, gentleman-like qualities. His hair slowed in waves just below the ears and his eyes gave off a soft essence. He was quite slim and tall.

“I have been waiting for you, my friend,” the man remarked with a soft, yet vibrant voice. Indeed, this was Thomas’ friend. Thomas responded with a shy expression, almost blushing.

“Come in, it must be cold,” the man said, “As I have told you earlier in my letter, it would not be necessary to bring your belongings with you. You will be supplied here well enough.” Thomas blinked a little. He disobeyed, for he kept a possession in his right pocket: a small journal, for he knew that what would happen here would be worth remembering.

Thomas entered the building silently.

The door slammed behind them.

Little did Thomas know that his friend had plans for him, just as he had for his friend.

The battle has begun.

2-Tea

Thomas knew his friend very little. In fact, they weren’t friends at all. Although his parents were quite reluctant to tell him, he knew that this was something they’ve decided behind his back. He could not understand what his parents wanted to begin between him and his friend. An air of mystery surrounded this tradition within the family.

His parents were always quite regarding of his so-called “best friend”. What were they keeping from him? Who was this man supposed to be?

He continued to ponder.

“Is anything of the matter?”

Thomas’ friend’s clear voice startled him suddenly. Since his friend was sitting at the opposite end of the table, it was obvious that the man’s loud speaking was necessary for the ear to hear. Perhaps it was overdone. Thomas’ cup of steaming tea spilled on his hand as his body jerked in surprise. The pain caused him to softly wince and gasp.

His friend flew to his side. “Thomas?” Thomas peered upward at his friend’s face. It showed concern. His friend placed his palms softly on Thomas’ hand, lifted it up from the table; and, withdrawing a handkerchief from his breast pocket, began wiping the liquid off his skin.

“I’m sorry; I surprised you a bit, didn’t I?” The friend paused for a minute. “I didn’t expect you to be so…” There was another short pause. The rustling of his clothing could be heard.

“So…what?”

“Never mind.”

His friend folded his handkerchief and stuffed it back into his breast pocket.

“I suppose you wish for a nice, refreshing bath? I have it ready for your use.”

He examined the great grandfather clock standing at the far corner of the dining room. “It appears to be getting late.” His facial expression changed. His eyes narrowed, and one side of his lips perked upward, “I’m afraid there wouldn’t be enough time for us to bathe individually,” he muttered, placing emphasis on the last word. His eyes moved slowly downward towards Thomas.

Something made Thomas scream inside. He slowly backed away from his own chair. His friend kept his eyes locked onto him and followed his direction. Eventually, Thomas touched the wall.

He was trapped.

His friend placed his hands on both sides of the wall behind Thomas, in a slow, very deliberate way.

“It’s strange how you’ve been here for quite some time, and you haven’t even asked for my name.”

Silence fell between them. Thomas couldn’t bear it. His hands began to tremble. He caught short of breathe.

The slim figure dressed in black suddenly smiled. “My name is Earl Blackwood.” He let go of Thomas and continued, “Wait for me at the bathing chamber. I’ll be there shortly afterwards.” He moved toward the tea spill and began wiping up the mess.

What was Thomas to do now? He felt his heart throbbing in his chest. He obviously felt afraid. Not only afraid of Earl, but also of himself. What if he lost control? But, at the same time he felt exited. That was why he was frightened.

He couldn’t trust himself.

On the way to the bathing chamber, the golden-haired lad slipped into the kitchen and quietly stole a small kitchen knife.

‘Just in case,’ he thought, ‘just in case Earl…’ He could not think of it. He did not want to.

Thomas slid the knife in between a washcloth he held in his hand. He then opened the door to the private area.

And he stepped in.

3-Thought

Steam rose in large quantities from the soothing water. Droplets formed and trickled down the fountain spouts.

The bathing chamber was extremely large. The bath itself was large enough to be used as a swim pool. Thomas looked about himself. The room was brightly lit, illuminating every detail of his surroundings.

Tiled floors spread all around the rectangular, below-floor-level bath. In the center of the bath, a fountain rose high above the water, shooting hot water into the foggy air. Golden statues depicting angels lined the walls.

There, Thomas stood in awe. He had just entered the room. This was extremely frightening, yet again, exiting as well. He began to feel insecure once again, wondering if he could prevent himself from falling into frenzy, losing himself to his inner desires.

But, here, he must find out what was behind the conspiracy between his parents and Earl. Even if it meant to obey Earl, he mustn’t show his suspicions.

Thomas peered down at himself. He had expected the room to be more dimly lit, to ensure him of his own privacy. But in this room, he knew that every inch of him could be viewed without effort.

His keen ears picked up noises from the changing room just outside of the bathing room.

Earl was coming.

Quickly, Thomas sat at the edge of the bath and covered his private parts with the washcloth that concealed his weapon.

Earl entered the room, completely removed of his clothing. Thomas suddenly gasped, covering his mouth to prevent any more noises from escaping his now uncontrollable mental processes. In haste, he turned his widened eyes away from the enemy.

Nervously, he began to fidget.

Earl stepped into the steaming water. The liquid now reached his chest.

Relieved that Earl was now in the water, Thomas turned his eyes back to his friend, expecting his lower half to be covered. He smiled, attempting to start a conversation.

Unfortunately, Thomas was shocked to be visually reminded that the water was transparent. He knew this was not a good sign. He completely turned his head away, but the image was permanently stuck in his mind.

He pressed his legs together, trying to diminish the throbbing between them. A whimper suddenly escaped his lips as his body trembled. Earl examined the lad’s facial expression, which, unfortunately, revealing everything.

The dark-haired man didn’t seem surprised.

Instead, he went on with his own business, occasionally moving in revealing positions. Whether Earl understood what was happening or not, Thomas did not know. He focused entirely on not looking.

Completely lost in bewilderment, Thomas excused himself. He carried his precious washcloth along with him.

4-The number four

A large wave of water stroke the tile floor. Thomas disappeared from sight. As the echoing of the splash diminished, several sounds of complaint spoke its way out.

Beneath the water, four male legs stood there. Two were holding fast to the bottom and two were kicking frantically. A small clanking sound could be heard. There, on the bottom floor, was a knife with a small towel. Bubbles from the commotion above blinded the view and nothing could be seen.

Δ

A woman dressed in black, frilled, and short dress with white aprons stood outside the closed entrance. Apparently, she was a maid.

There she stood, clenching her teeth, with tears pouring down her dove-soft skin. She squeezed the towels onto her breast, leaned over, and softly placed the towels by the door. She opened the door slightly, enough to slide the towels into the crack. She winced at the sounds inside: a mixture between pleasure and complaint; violent splashing that began to decrease over time, until it stopped completely. Yet, complaining continued. She suddenly slammed the door shut after seeing Earl standing in the water, holding someone else to the side of the bath with one hand, the other beneath the water.

Her eyes watered with tears as she ran as far as she could from the door.

5-Adagio=Presto

Steam rose slowly in swirls from Thomas’ neck, his skin dripping with warm water. The scent of Earl lingered on him.

He took the white cloth that hung from his shoulder and proceeded to wipe himself. His face was emotionless, no silent twitch of the mouth, no turning of the eyes.

He heard from his ear that someone was approaching from behind.

Earl stood directly behind Thomas, his chest nearly touching the golden boy’s soft back skin. The sweet scent of Earl, provocative and soothing, rose in tremendous amounts to Thomas’ nostrils.

Ear’s arm brushed against Thomas’ waist as it slid upward to his underarms. Earl’s hand stopped in front of Thomas’ eyes. The kitchen knife’s glimmers in the lamplight reflected off Thomas’ soft eye color.

Thomas looked to his side to see Earl starring directly at him. Earl’s eyes questioned with curiosity. Thomas looked back at the knife Earl held in front of his wet face. He wished the knife would just fall into his own hands. He felt the urge to just take that knife and hack Earl into pieces.

Fire bubbled in his insides as he grabbed the knife and snatched it out of his “friend’s” grasp. Friends? He didn’t even know what they were now after what they’ve done together. Gathering all the strength after most of it had been given to Earl, he pushed the knife through the air towards Earl’s abdomen. He knew he would come in contact with flesh, even slice it.

Suddenly something grabbed his arm, hitting a nerve in his upper arm, causing the weapon to fall once again with an echoing clank to the floor of the changing room.

“No…” Thomas whispered.

“Is this really what you want?” Earl’s voice rang through Thomas’ ears.

Thomas hesitated, still, his face remaining blank.

6-Lies

Thomas lied in his bed, in a fetal position underneath the covers.

A maid entered the room, her black dress brushing against the side of the bed, carrying a bundle of washed clothing. Carefully and quietly, she set the clothing on the drawer near to Thomas' bed, so as to not wake him up. As she was slowly leaving, she heard some noises. Listening carefully, it was the sound of crying, coming from the bed. The sobbing was soft, yet noticable.

The maid was hesitant in approaching the young man, for it is possible that he was crying in his sleep. But, if she asked him if something was wrong, he would most certainly answer if he were awake. So she did.

"Is there anything that you would need, sir?"

"Just go away."

Hmmmm, she thought, he is awake.

She walked to the side of the bed that was closest to the doorway and sat on that side, the spring bed slightly sinking.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

There was a brief silence as Thomas just lied there, not budging one bit. Hesitantly, he finally poked his head out from under the covers. Looking into her eyes, he slowly nodded his head.

The young maid grinned a little, attempting to make it easier for the poor man. Knowing that it would be uncomfortable to suddenly begin talking personally without a connection, she introduced herself, "Uh...my name is Diane. I work here as the only maid...well...actually, I'm not the only maid here. Usually, there are at least five other maids living here, but they all left to meet their families during this autumn break. And, since I have nowhere else to go, I'm staying here with the master. I work just to keep myself busy."

Thomas nodded, letting her continue.

"And...you must be Thomas. I heard about you from Master Blackwood."

Thomas flinched slightly. Diane noticed that, and paused a little before continuing, "did something happen, between you and the master, I mean?"

Thomas studied her for a moment, trying to see if she was a trustworthy person, "would you tell anything I tell you to Earl?"

"Could you repeat that again?"

"Would you promise me that you won't tell Earl that I'm talking about this?"

"No, of course not."

Thomas explained to Diane about the incidences that happened between him and Earl. Diane looked a little uncomfortable, but Thomas didn't care at all. He just wanted someone to listen to him.

"Diane, I think he's taking advantage of me. I came here to find out what my parents were planning for me when they suddenly decided that this guy that I don't know a bit about is my 'best friend.' It seems as though he doesn't want me to know. He's probably only trying to distract me from the truth."

He then noticed Diane clutching tightly onto her white apron. Her face didn't show any sign of discomfort, but the gestures of her body made her mental state very obvious.

Taking a short breathe, the maid began, "If you want to, you can run away from here."

"What? But I want to know!"

"Just a word of advice, Thomas. There are many things about the master that you shouldn't know about."

"You mean, about Earl, right?"

Diane smiled widely and nodded. "I'm sorry, Thomas, I must leave now. I must attend to the master's chambers."

Thomas watched as Diane hastely scurried out of the room. Once she closed the door, Thomas slid back into his bed covers.

The memories of the time he spent that day in the bath arose in his mind. He blushed red hot.

He placed his hand on his stomach, feeling pain. Getting out of bed, he walked to his mirror. Lifting his shirt off himself, he examined it and the blood spots stained that sunk into its fabric. Looking into the mirror, he stared blankly at his own image.

Those words were carved into his abdomen: You belong to me! It stung as if it were being touched by red hot irons. They were the marks made in the changing chamber.

Blushing once again, he crawled back into his bed. He still felt himsefl blushing considerably. Shaking his head to get those inappropriate thoughts out of his steaming head, he buried his face into the soft pillow and fell into a deep sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------ --------------------------------------------

"Yes, Diane?" Earl spoke softly.

"Yes master, Thomas is doing well."

"Have you talked to him、Diane?"

"No, master. Not a word."

"Good."

Earl stood there in front of his mirror, playing with a small kitchen knife, "I don't think Thomas will need this anymore. He won't be leaving now."

7-"Tommy"

Thomas walked down the round spiral staircase to the first floor, to the dining room that awaited his presence. He was a little hungry, since he had been trying to sleep for quite a while with the pain, but in vain.

Stepping into the luxurious dining room, he caught sight of Earl sitting at the opposite end of the table, just like he was when they first drank tea together. The room reminded him of a hotel dining room, especially the one he went to as a child with his parents.

After noticing that Thomas had entered the room, Earl stood up from his seat, abandoning his newspaper and cup of coffee.

"Good morning Thomas."

Thomas flinched a little. He felt a little sick when Earl approached him, squeezing in the space between them. Hatred burned and love flew within him, all together at once. The memories of how loving Earl was in the bathing chamber and how cruel he was with the knife arose again into his mind, though he wished so hard to forget them. The feelings associated with them made him feel like his chest was being torn open.

He felt a tear trickle down his left cheek, then his right.

Darn you, Thomas, stop feeling, stop feeling. Earl has nothing to do with you anymore. Just because he had sex with you in the bathing chambers and just because he carved his possession tag onto you doesn't mean you have anything to do with him. The tears burn. Just make them stop, make them stop!

Thomas felt more tears squeezing out despite of his efforts to stop them.

Earl noticed the tears, and approached Thomas in a comforting manner. Thomas turns to his side, away from the man.

Why did I even come down here if I knew there was a possibility that he was waiting for me, like he always did?

"What's wrong, Tommy?" Earl asked Thomas softy into his ear, making the tearful one feel shivers down his body, especially there.

Earl began caressing Thomas's shoulders, making "Tommy" weak in the knees.

"Why?" Thomas said, "why do I feel this way?"

"Feel what way?" Earl asked him.

"I feel like I'm burning from the inside out whenever I think of you. But, it's not a painful burn, it's just...just..."

Thomas felt Earl slowly wrap his arms around him.

"Don't touch me." Thomas felt his tears run again. He wanted to know why this guy was his "best friend", not his lover.

"I hate you," Thomas said.

But I want you. I want you so much. But I'll never know why you're my "best friend' if we lose that relationship to something more intimate. I need to let you go. I like you...alot. Let's just be friends.

Earl let go, backing away with a silence that signified shock, and turned around.

Thomas' hand reached out back, not looking, to grasp the last of Earl's affections. But the space was empty. Earl was out of reach.

"Sit down and eat, Tommy. You breakfast will get cold."

Tommy sat. Tommy ate. But not a word was spoken from him that hour.

-

Thomas headed towards the library, alone. His thoughts, despite the fact that he thinks he is over with them, still speaks to him about his relationship with Earl and about Earl's loving sides and cruel sides.

Why do I even like him? Ow, my abdomen still stings. Well, at least I have the bandages wrapped around it.

He pushed open the large library doors, giving off a loud creaking sound that echoed throught the hallway. He looked around at the book shelves, only to find Diane dusting one of them. She was standing on a ladder, lightly brushing the high areas with a feather duster.

Hearing the sound of the door, she had turned her head around.

"Oh, hello, Thomas!," she said, looking down.

Thomas nodded at Diane, unsure of what to say. Diane had been so kind to him, he didn't know how to repay her. She climbed down the ladder and set her foot lightly on the richly carpeted floor. She then began moving the wheeled ladder to the side, getting ready for the next collumn of books.

"So, how's everything coming for you?" Diane asked. She turned her head around only slightly, watching him from the corner of her eye.

"Fine. Everything is fine." Thomas' voice was cold and monotonous, sounding like a boring high school teacher.

Diane turned her head fully back, "What's with that expression, Thomas? What? You'd rather have everything not right?"

Everything not right? That's right, Diane. Nothing is right. Everything isn't fine, thanks to him.

8-Robert

Diane left the libary after politely excusing herself. Thomas watched her, making sure she left completely. He felt like something was getting on his nerves whenever he meets her. But, then again, he has only met her twice. Nevertheless, she still was annoying to him.

Strange. She did so much for me. Why am I not thankful?

Thomas sighed. He hasn't sighed in a long time. Maybe it was finally time to sigh. It was in the right time, wasn't it? This was his second day in Earl's house and he still hasn't figured anything about what his relationship with this mean rich guy was supposed to mean.

Looking to his side, he found a thin leather book on one of the fine glass reading tables. Opening it to the first page, he began reading in curiosity. Suddenly, his face blushed a bright red when he came to discover that the book he was holding in his hands was, in fact, a romance novel. And not any romance novel; it was a homoerotic one. Yet, he continued to absorb the words.

The story began with a very young Robert Bagley, who was around 21 years of age.

Is this what Earl was reading in his past time?

"Robert, beautiful and graceful as he always was, leaned forward in an excellent elegant manner, to kiss this other young man. The friction between the flesh of their soft lips sent a signal of heartbeats, like that of hoofsteps of a black stallion, up and down Robert's body. Just when the fire burned between them, something moved and the heat was extinguished. And just when Robert opened his eyes, the other man had pushed him aside and ran. The other man ran like the wind, as though his life was in grave danger. But, was he? No. Robert was not a dangerous man. Robert could not understand. He had sacrificed himself for this, yet the boy dared to abandon him? Life was never fair, as he learned from past experiences, from past lessons. But, with hope still burning in his heart, he had sacrificed his emotional safety for the love he desired. He had no money, but he had at least a place to live. He starved, he collapsed so many times in the heat of the summer. He wanted love, but only recieved a lying kiss and no name. That boy, he now thought, would never meet him again..."

Thomas suddenly jolted out of the dreamy world of words that he was just now engulfed in, and looked up. He had heard a creaking sound of the library door. This time, the sound wasn't as loud as it usually was, but it was still noticeable. Wondering who or what caused the disturbance, he stood up. The door continued to open in a slow, steady manner.

A voice, numbed by the muffling of the walls by books, made its way to Thomas' voice. "Tommy? Are you there?" It was Earl.

The entering man, closed the large doors behind him, as he stepped onto the carpeting.

What is he doing here? But, then again, this is his library after all. He has all rights to enter here. But, in my book, he has no right to enter in my presence. Did he even know if I was here? Or did he search all over the mansion for me?

"Tommy."

"My name isn't Tommy," Thomas scowled.

"Hmph."

"I'd much prefer to be called Thomas, or even better, Mr. Valerie."

Honestly, I hate my last name. But, what right does he have to call me baby names?

Earl smiled. It was a very weak smile, as if he didn't even have enough energy to lift his facial muscles. It wasn't a smile like before. He seemed stronger back then.

What happened?

Earl's eyes were slightly red, signifying either that he was tired or that he was crying, or maybe both.

"What a pity. You weren't even called Tommy by your own mother." Earl sneered, and then let his expression drop, drooping once again.

A line of thought stroke through thomas' mind.

What did he say? How did he know that? It was true that my mother didn't call me by that baby name, but how did Earl find that out? He's probably around my own age...

Thomas' thinking was stopped abruptly when Earl said, "And what is that book you are holding?"

Thomas looked down at the book he was pressing to his chest with his arms. "It's none of your business."

Earl laughed lightly and shook his head, "Tsk, tsk, tsk. Your tongue is like acid flung in random directions. No, Tommy, it IS my business. That book is mine."

Thomas again peered down at the book his was holding. His face blushed from embarrassment, looking slightly sad, his eyes watering. He slowly walked towards Earl and handed the book to him.

"Sorry," Thomas said as he solemny placed the book in Earl's hand.

"Now that's much better." Earl put the book under his armpit and began walking past Thomas. The golden-haired boy stayed put. He felt a pang of pain in his chest. His tried to look at Earl, but his eyes became blurry with wetness.

Earl was walking towards one of the bookshelves and proceeded to place the novel in its proper location.

"Why?" Thomas heard himself shake as he spoke.

"Yes?" Earl looked back at Thomas, raising his eyebrow.

"Why are you so mean to me?"

9-The Open Door

"Why are you so mean to me?" Unconsciously, Thomas his hands go to his face to wipe away the tears and he heard himself sniffle.

God, why am I being so emotional?

As Earl approached Thomas, the crying one turned his head to look away, when he spotted the table beside him. Earl was about five feet away from him, so he grabbed the side of the table he was closest to. Gathering all his strength, he lifted the end of the small reading table. Being lifted, the table looked like a card being swept by the wind, clumsily flying.

"Thomas, what are you doing?" Earl's face looked a little sterned as he fastened his walking pace towards the fuming boy.

"Don't you dare get any closer to me!" Thomas, with a surge of energy, pushed the wooden object heavily onto Earl, who was desperatly trying to brace himself with his arms.

Luckily, Earl wasn't heart, and Thomas felt himself relieved. But, without a moment's time he kicked his feet on the ground and ran as fast as he could while Earl pushed himself out from beneath the table.

Why am I running?

Thomas sped to the front door, setting his sweaty palms on the doorknob, expecting it to be locked. It wasn't, luckily.

I know you're not locked, but please open and don't fall on me or anything. I had to get hurt to get my way since I got here. Don't let this be the same.

Oh, it was way too easy. Thomas flinched from the sudden swing of the door. But, gathering strength from his unstable breathing, he stepped out and ran, forgetting to close the door behind him and forgetting to wipe away the tears that dotted the outdoor stairs.

----

Earl ran to the door, limping onto his sprained ankle. As he was, he spotted Diane standing on the staircase to upstairs, dusting.

"Where are you going, Master Blackwood?" Diane asked, abruptly stopping the movement of the feather duster in her right hand.

"Nowhere" was Blackwood's answer, "Now, excuse me, I wish to take a walk."

"Good bye."

"Good day."

And the door was shut, Earl disappearing from sight.

Diane continued to brush off the soft particles of dust off of the handles of the staircase. A smirk carved its way onto her lips.

She set the feather duster down onto the step she was standing on, and she walked to the front door. She locked it.

--

Why am I running? I must stop. I have to return to the mansion...er...I thought it was called the Moltenburg house. Wierd name... No! No! I will not return. Maybe I should ask someone around this street to help me.

10- Phone booth: answered

"Hello? Is this the police station?," Thomas called from the opposite side of the phoneline. He was standing in a small phone booth.

"Yes, how may we help you?," a woman's voice said.

"I believe I was probably kidnapped."

"I'm sorry, sir. But, could you please make this a little clearer? Were you kidnapped or not?"

"I...I don't know how to put it. But, I think someone is trying to..." he paused for a fraction of a second, "kill me."

"All right. Where are you right now?"

Thomas peered around himself. There were some specks of mud stuck to the sides of the glass, so it was a bit difficult to make out his surroundings. He felt agitated and stressed out, like he was going to get an abdominal cramp any time soon.

Damn. What in the world am I going to do now?

Thomas tapped his foot lightly on the cement floor, feeling frightened and almost completely unaware of whether he was, in fact, aware.

"Hello?" the woman called from the phone again.

"Um..." he said.

Thomas looked to his right and barely made out the sidewalk through the dirty glass walls that surrounded him. He then spotted Earl, who was walking directly towards the phone booth.

Drat! Can he actually see me through this wall?

But, then, he noticed Earl staring straight at Thomas' eyes.

God. His eyes are so beautiful...

I've gotta get out of here. He knows where I am. I've gotta run.

Thomas let go of the phone and let it hover over the cement floor. He pushed open the door and dashed out and ran. He ran away from the man who called out for him.

Earl walked to the phone Thomas was previously using, reached down, and lifted the dangling device. He placed it on his left ear and listened to a woman saying, "Hello? Hello? Sir?"

And he hung up.

He looked towards the direction in which his Tommy ran. He looked shamefully down at his shoes and turned around, proceeding to walk back to his mansion, where Diane would be probably be waiting for him.

----

Thomas ran out of breathe and he grasped onto the fence he was walking beside. He wrapped his fingers tightly around one of the many wires that intertwined with eachother. With that wire, he held himself up. Sweat slowly dripped down his forehead and he felt his thoughts fall away with the droplets.

When his breathe finally steadied, he looks around himself to make sure he lost Earl, that man that played with his mind, heart,...and body.

Letting go of the wires, he walked to a nearby rock and sat down on it. Looking around the surroundings, he noticed that this was a small clearing of grass in the city. Earl's mansion was probably about ten miles from here. He knew this place because he came here quite often as a child, playing baseball with the neighborhood kids. He couldn't believe that he actually ran this far.

As a child, there was this one boy that he liked a lot. His name was Anthony and he had a deep crush on that boy. His eyes had a strange brown tint, almost red, and with a tint of black in it. His hair was light brown like copper. He had a well defined chin despite the fact that he was probably only 6 and he was very polite. Thomas remembered when that boy came to him one day and held his hand. They both just sat there, watching the rest of the boys play their baseball games, silently glancing at each other as the sun set. When the rest of the boys had left, Thomas felt that he could not handle it any longer and he leaned forward to brush his burning lips against Anthony's. That was when Thomas' own mother came...and stopped everything.

And Thomas thought about his past in this sort of way...until he felt something softly land on his left shoulder.

He looked to his side and suddenly jolted up when he saw the person that had just touched him. It was a boy, probably around eighteen years of age. The slight turn of his head revealed a severe deformation of its left side, from Thomas' angle of view.

That deformation surprised Thomas and he yelped in surprise and the boy jerked his hand away.

"I...I'm sorry," the boy said. "I was just wondering if you were lonely or...something. You looked pretty sad."

Sad? What is he talking about? Shouldn't he be sad himself, with that horrifying complexion?

The boy noticed Thomas staring at that part of his face and he hurried to cover it with his hand.

"Um..." the boy said, almost stammering in the process, "do you have a home?"

"Not anymore, I think. I ran away."

"Oh...okay... Well, I-I was just wondering if you did because I could take you to my place. It's not far from here and you'll need a place to stay on this day because it's pretty cold. It's Autumn..."

Thomas felt himself shivering. He had forgotten to bring a coat. He didn't notice how cold it was until now.

The boy then stepped forward to Thomas and took off his own wind-breaker and placed it lightly on Thomas' back.

Warmth filled Thomas.

"Um...yeah. I think I'll need a place to stay," Thomas said, with a half-smile and a look of defeat.

"Good. I thought you might." He takes Thomas' hand and Thomas felt a sudden rapid thump in his chest that didn't fit right with the rythmn before it. It was his heart and it sped up.

Walking with Thomas' hand in his own, the boy turned his head around to look Thomas square in the eye, "by the way, my name is Anthony. What's yours?"

Could it be him? But, no. His face doesn't look similar.

"Thomas."

Anthony nodded and as soon as a blink of an eye, they had already reached an apartment and had already begun to walk up the staircase to the doorway upfront.

Oh, no. Another house to get used to...

But, when Thomas entered through the door, he felt a sudden breeze of invisible peace. He felt a sense of space despite the fact that this was significantly smaller than Earl's mansion. And the mansion felt more crammed in.

Some clothes were scattered all over the floor and Thomas felt a little insulted by the fact that this boy that had the same name as his childhood crush brought him here. But, he felt that he would begin to like this apartment, even if just for that night.