It started like any other day. Justin had promised Deb
he’d do an early shift at the diner because they were short-handed while Kiki
was off recovering from The Operation, so he slid out of bed as quietly as he
could so as not to wake his current (but, Justin suspected, soon-to-be-ex)
boyfriend, dressed in the dark and forced himself out into the pre-dawn dankness
of a bitterly cold Pittsburgh morning. He hated the cold, he hated leaving a
warm bed and freezing his ass off waiting for a bus that was always either late
or fucking early, and most of all he hated going to work in the dark.
To his disgust he just missed his normal bus, which was early again because the
fucking driver liked to give himself time to race into the Liberty Diner and get
a coffee, so he had to catch the one that dropped him off two blocks over from
the Diner. Then he had the choice of taking the main streets, which meant
walking about twice as far, or cutting through a couple of back alleys, which
was shorter but kind of scary in the early morning dark, with no one around. The
vicious, sleety rain which started to fall just as he got off the bus decided
him, and he turned into the first alley.
It was when he crossed the road and moved into the alley that ran behind the
diner and would take him to the back door that day turned freaky.
He was hurrying, head down and hood pulled tight against the wind blowing the
freezing rain into his face, and wasn’t aware of anyone near him until he
crashed into someone. Or something.
At first he naturally thought it was some other poor bastard out in the cold,
and his worst fear was that it was a mugger, but as he stumbled, and fought to
keep his feet on the slippery flagstones, his hood fell back and he got a
shocked glimpse of just what he’d crashed into. His artist’s eye caught, and
never forgot, could never forget, a glimpse of a stick thin figure with a face
out of childhood nightmares. Desiccated skin barely covered bones that seemed
stripped of any flesh or muscle tissue; a hand like a talon stretched towards
him, momentarily clasping his arm as the figure struggled to find its own
balance. Then the claw-like appendage was hurriedly withdrawn and before Justin
could even take a breath to scream, the figure was moving away, awkwardly, but
with surprising speed.
Justin stood for a moment, shaking, and then found himself lurching into a
stumbling run towards the warm safety of the diner.
He crashed in through the back door to find Debbie already there. She gave him a
shocked look as he burst in, but uncharacteristically didn’t demand to know what
the fuck was wrong with him, just told Tony in the kitchen to get a fucking move
on, waved a coffee pot at Justin and asked with one raised eyebrow if he wanted
a cup. He nodded, and once it was poured, clutched it gratefully.
His first instinct had been to blurt out what he’d seen, call the police, alert
the Feds … something, anything. But safe now in the diner, he had time to think,
to consider what the likely reaction would be. He realized that no one would
believe him. He wouldn’t himself, if someone came to him with such a ridiculous
story. And anyway, it’s not like the … thing … had done anything to him. In
fact, it had appeared every bit as scared as he was. Aside from the horror of
its looks, it hadn’t offered any kind of threat. So what would be the point?
He’d just make himself look stupid for nothing. And if anyone was crazy enough
to believe him, they’d just start hunting down some poor creature who probably
wasn’t any threat to anyone. After all, it was bigger than he was, and its
momentary grip on his arm had been strong enough to keep them both upright, so
if it had wanted to attack him, it could have, and almost certainly could have
strangled him or something.
No, Justin thought. I just won’t say anything. It’s crazy anyway. It was
probably just a trick of the light or something.
In his heart of hearts, he knew that wasn’t true. But some kind of instinct made
him very reluctant to disclose what he’d seen. Quite apart from the fear of
appearing totally ridiculous, the more he considered it, the more he felt some
sort of … protective urge towards the creature he’d glimpsed only for a moment;
the sense of horror he’d originally felt was still there, but it was becoming
tinged with something gentler … compassion maybe. So he finished his cup of
coffee and got ready for work.
He was in the back room, tying the sash of his apron when Debbie came in. She
stood for a moment uncharacteristically silent, and then said in not quite her
normal tone, “So … are you okay, Sunshine? You looked like shit when you came
in. Like you’d seen a ghost or something.”
Some quality in her voice … some touch of … anxiety, of nervous tension, made
Justin look at her. Their eyes met and held for a moment and he had the sudden
notion that she knew exactly what he’d seen. He held her gaze and said slowly,
“I thought I had. At least … not a ghost, exactly. More like a monster.”
She bristled. “He’s not a fucking monster!” she snapped.
Justin stared at her, and she stared back, obviously startled by what she’d
unintentionally revealed.
“Just don’t say anything to anyone else,” she said, turning on her heels. “If
you want to come over for dinner tonight, we can talk about what you think you
saw then.”
Justin spent the day torn between curiosity and a strange reluctance to have any
sort of confirmation about what he’d seen … imagined … it had to have been his
imagination. He didn’t want to know that it wasn’t, that the thing he’d seen
could possibly have been real. But despite his misgivings, he found himself
climbing the familiar steps to Debbie’s door.
She’d obviously been waiting for him, and opened it before he’d even had the
chance to knock. “Come in, then,” she’d sighed, in a resigned voice, quite
unlike Deb’s usual vibrancy.
As always, coming into the kitchen, Justin was aware of a sense of loss; even
after all these months, he still missed Vic’s familiar presence. Deb ushered him
to a seat at the table, and placed a heaped plate of linguine in front of him.
Justin sniffed the marinara sauce appreciatively. Living with Daphne had its
advantages, but he still missed home cooked meals.
He started to eat and Debbie sat and watched him fondly for a few moments,
before she said quietly, “You saw him, didn’t you? You must have. He left just
before you rushed in like all the hounds of Hell were after you.”
Justin took a moment to maneuver the strands of pasta from his fork to his
mouth, and then to chew and swallow.
This was it, the moment he’d been both looking forward to and dreading all day.
He nodded, swallowed again, and said carefully, “Well, I saw something. Or
thought I did. I was running because of the rain, and I crashed into …”
“You bumped into him?” Debbie sounded alarmed. “Was he alright?”
Justin stared at her. There was no mistaking the concern in her voice, and it
wasn’t for the fright he’d received. It was the … whatever it was … that she was
worried about.
“He was fucking fine. He took off okay, anyway,” he said tartly.
“Oh, that’s terrible,” she sighed. “He must have been scared out of his fucking
mind. I hope it doesn’t make him too scared to come back tomorrow.”
“Deb,” Justin broke in on her anxious maunderings. “Debbie … what is he? I mean
…”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know his story at all. He’s just a poor
soul who … well, who doesn’t have it easy. I try to make sure that he gets at
least one meal a day, anyway.”
“But …”
“Sunshine … he didn’t hurt you, did he?”
Slowly, feeling as if he were in a dream, Justin shook his head.
“He’d never hurt anyone. He just … he’s just scared. He knows if people saw him
around they’d call the cops or something, just because he looks a bit
different.”
Justin stared at her. “A bit fucking different!” he protested at her
understatement.
She shrugged.
“I found him one morning, going through the bins for scraps. Scared the fucking
pants off me. But I soon realized he was a shit load more scared than I was. So
I told him to wait and I’d get him some food. I grabbed a plate of something and
brought it out to him, and he just … fell on it. Like he was starving.
“Since then he comes by most mornings when I’m working and I give him something.
Days when I’m not on the early shift, I worry about him. I’ve tried to get him
to come at night when I’m working the late shift, but he never does. I guess
there are always too many people around, except in the very early morning.”
“But … where does he live?” Justin asked.
She shrugged. “I dunno, Sunshine. He never talks. Just sometimes he gives me
these little smiles. Once he even patted my arm. But I wasn’t expecting it, and
his hand … well, it gave me a bit of a fucking shock, and he must have seen
because he’s never done it again.”
Justin remembered the hand so much like a taloned claw that had clutched his arm
so strongly, and understood Debbie’s reaction.
He sighed, and twisted his fork, twining another mouthful of the pasta around it
thoughtfully. “I guess I could take something out for him … on the mornings
you’re not working, I mean.”
She beamed at him. “That’d be fucking great!” she said happily.
“But don’t the cooks wonder what you do with the food?” he asked.
She shrugged. “If they want to tell me that I’m not entitled to the occasional
free meal after all the fucking extra work I do in that place, let ‘em try. I
know where all their fucking bones are buried, and they really don’t want to
cross me. Don’t worry, Sunshine, I’ll make sure they don’t ask any questions
about what you’re up to either.”
Justin wondered what he’d gotten himself into.
He wondered even more three mornings later when he found himself out in the
alley, clutching a covered plate of eggs, bacon and toast and calling softly
into the darkness, “Ah … hi … um … I’m Justin. Debbie isn’t working this
morning, but she asked me if I’d bring you some breakfast.”
He felt stupid, and was afraid that the food was going to get cold long before
his “guest” showed up, but suddenly he was aware of movement in the shadows, and
a gaunt figure moved towards him slowly and tentatively, clearly poised to run
if startled.
Justin did his best to smile at him. “Hi. It’s bacon and eggs - oh, and some
tomato - Debbie said you liked that. And toast..”
The figure stopped a few feet away, and stood still poised for flight. Justin
made to step towards it, and the figure backed up a little. Justin felt like he
was trying to deal with a stray dog. He sighed.
“Look, I’ll just put the plate down here, okay? When you’ve finished, just leave
it there and I’ll get it later.”
He put the plate down and moved back towards the door. The figure darted forward
and snatched up the plate. It stopped for a moment then, and raised that
terrible face to Justin. For just a moment, a smile of such sweetness that it
took Justin’s breath away, crossed those desiccated features, and then it turned
away, hunching over the food, as it withdrew once more into the shadows.
Shakily, Justin went back into the diner, no longer wondering why Debbie felt so
compelled to help this strange creature who lived its whole life apparently in
the shadows.
He found himself juggling his shifts to ensure that he was on the early shift as
often as possible. Especially when Debbie wasn’t on. The thought of that gentle
creature going hungry was unbearable to him.
It was about three days later, just before another early morning rendezvous with
this strange creature, that he had the brilliant idea. He visited his local
supermarket and got the things he needed. Then next morning he arrived early for
his shift and cajoled Tony the cook into making up an early batch of soup. He
carefully poured two cups into one of the flasks he'd bought the night before,
filled another with coffee, and grabbed up a couple of rolls and two lemon bars.
He put all of these into a carrier bag, and then picked up the usual breakfast
plate and went outside into the cold darkness. This time he didn’t have to call,
the creature was waiting for him, and came forward as soon as he was out the
door.
He smiled at it, and held out the bag. The creature stared at him, clearly
puzzled.
“I put some soup into a flask,” he said. “And there’s some rolls, and a couple
of lemon bars, oh, and some coffee. I thought you could take them with you and
have them later in the day. You can bring back the flasks tomorrow.”
Seemingly stunned, the creature took the bag and peered into it for a moment.
Then he looked up at Justin, and for a moment the dry, reddened eyes seemed to
shimmer with tears.
Justin felt like crying himself. To stop that, he held out the plate. “And
here’s your breakfast,” he said.
The creature hesitated for a long moment, and then slid the handles of the
carrier bag carefully over one bony wrist, and carefully took the plate.
Just as Justin was turning away, blinking back tears for some weird fucked up
reason, he heard a voice, dry and rusty with disuse, croak “Thank you.”
Astonished, he turned back to face the creature, but it was already moving away.
Inside, he burrowed into his wallet, and put money in the till for the extra
food. He didn’t want to rock the boat - one plate of food was one thing, but a
whole day’s worth, that was different. But the smile on his face as he worked
the shift earned him more tips than usual and more than paid for the extra food.
After that, he tried to make absolutely sure that either he or Debbie were
always on the morning shift. The first morning that he wasn’t on, he left Debbie
a note and some empty flasks, asking her to fill them, and including some cash
to pay for the extra. She was still working when he arrived later in the day for
his own shift, and she gave him a hug. “Sunshine, you’re a fucking genius!” she
said exuberantly.
That night, just before he knocked off, she turned up with a huge tub of
puttanesca and two insulated food flasks.
“You take that home and put it in the freezer,” she instructed. “You can get
some out every morning and nuke it and put it in one of the flasks.”
Then she handed over an enormous apple pie.
“It won’t matter if he eats that cold, it’ll still taste okay,” she assured him.
The next morning, the creature was waiting for him at the door. Justin smiled
and handed over the carrier bag. Seeing the puzzled look occasioned by the
larger flask, he grinned. “It’s some of Debbie’s home made pasta,” he said.
“It’s really good. I think you’ll like it.”
Again, the creature’s eyes filled with moisture, and for a moment they shone an
amazing hazel-green. Almost immediately, however, the moisture seemed to
evaporate leaving them once more dry and red. Justin stared at him, startled by
the beauty he’d seen for that fleeting moment. The creature looked away.
Suddenly Justin didn’t want him to go. Not yet. If he could get him to stay for
just a moment …
“I’m Justin,” he said. “Do you … um … what …”
He broke off, not knowing exactly how to ask his question. What if the poor
thing didn’t even have a name? Or if it was for some reason reluctant to tell
him? He didn’t want to pressure it into anything it wasn’t comfortable with.
For a moment the creature stood there, and then … “Bri-an”, it croaked.
“Brian,” Justin repeated softly.
The creature flashed one of those sad sweet smiles at him, and then turned to
go.
“I’ll see you later, Brian,” Justin said.
Brian paused for a moment and then shuffled away. Justin barely heard the rasped
“Later” which drifted back to him.
For weeks, these meetings went on.
Aside from the occasional ‘thank you’ or soft farewell, the creature didn’t
speak; but somehow Justin was coming to know and understand it, even without
words. Anyway, he chattered enough for both of them. He found himself telling
Brian all about his life, his hopes, his dreams. How his father had thrown a
major hissy fit when he found out he was gay, and how he’d left home soon after.
How he’d been lucky enough to see an ad in the diner window for a vacancy, and
that had led to him meeting Debbie. How she and Vic had taken him in when life
at home had become impossible, and how his mother had made sure that her divorce
settlement included his father picking up the tab for his college fees. How he
was attending PIFA and hoped to find work as a commercial artist - maybe an
illustrator, or in animation. But how he still wanted to have time to work on
his own stuff.
He even found himself telling Brian about the disaster that had been his first
real relationship, with that bastard Ethan, and about how fucking impossible it
seemed to find one decent guy among all the trolls that he seemed to attract
like flies. And he swore that Brian understood, he felt the sympathy that Brian
offered him … even though Brian must be more fucking lonely than Justin could
even dream of being in his worst nightmare.
Justin found some deep sense of comfort in the silent companionship that Brian
offered him. A sense of support and friendship that was somehow different to
that provided by anyone else in his life. And he was irresistibly drawn to those
meetings. Even on mornings when he wasn’t working, he’d find himself leaving his
warm bed to brave the bus ride and the dark cold streets to be sure to be in
that alley in time to meet with his strange friend.
Inspired by Debbie’s example, he’d pestered his mother for recipes for some of
his favorite foods, and to Daphne’s amazement, started cooking almost nightly.
He made sure there were always lots of left-overs, and would shyly present them
to Brian, with a shrug and a word of warning that “I made this one, so it’s
probably not going to be as good as Debbie’s”.
He wondered if it was his imagination that Brian always seemed particularly
grateful on those mornings.
Daphne was beginning to wonder what on earth was going on. She knew Justin; knew
that he was anything but a morning person. And yet here he was, heading off
before daybreak every day of the week, and spending the rest of the time with a
strange glow of happiness about him that was new to her.
She finally tackled him on it one evening as he was heading off to bed - early
as usual so that he wouldn’t oversleep.
“You’re not, like, in love, or something are you?” she asked.
He stared at her.
“Why the fuck would you think that?”
“Well, you head off out of here every morning like you’re going on holiday or
something, and that is so not like you. And the rest of the time you wander
around in a kind of daze, like your mind is somewhere else, with someone else.
So I just wondered.”
He shook his head in denial. “No … that’s … really, that’s just … No.”
She shrugged. “Okay. No biggie. I just thought I’d ask.”
But that night, lying sleepless for once, he thought over what she’d said. And
realized that there was a grain of truth in it.
Not that he was in love with Brian, exactly. After all, how could he be? Brian
was … well … there was no kind of physical attraction. That was just a
disgusting thought. But … Justin turned over and sighed. If Brian had been
anything like a normal … well … human, really … Even if he’d been a woman … or
even a really ugly guy … then maybe … Because it was true that he loved spending
time with Brian, looked forward to their all too brief morning meetings.. Spent
the whole day planning for the next one.
And it’s fucking stupid, he told himself. I mean, he probably only listens to
you for the sake of the food. You think you’ve got some kind of amazing
connection, and he probably just thinks you’re a complete idiot. What did my
grandmother used to call it when the cats came purring around her ankles? Oh,
yeah. Cupboard love. That was it. That’s all that’s going on here. If you didn’t
bring food, he wouldn’t even turn up.
But in his heart, he knew it wasn’t true. Knew that they did share some kind of
connection. It was there in the fact that in all the time Debbie had been
bringing him food, he’d never spoken to her. But with Justin, he’d even told him
his name.
It was there in the gentle way Brian had touched his shoulder when Justin had
been telling him about what a bastard Craig had turned into the moment his
golden boy had told him he liked taking it up the ass. And most of all it was
there in Brian’s sad smiles, and in the glimpses Justin had had of the most
beautiful eyes he’d ever seen.
He had no idea what Brian’s story was. He sensed that talking wasn't just
difficult for Brian, that it was actually physically painful, as if he had a
permanently dry raspy sore throat. So he didn’t ever press him to talk, just
tried to let him know that whatever his story was, it didn’t really matter to
Justin.
Because it didn’t. Whatever had happened to dry up his flesh and desiccate his
skin, he was still Brian. And Brian was …
Well, Brian.
And Justin was in love with him.
Which was … disastrous. Disgusting, even.
How the fuck could that ever work?
Justin couldn’t even imagine actually touching him. Really touching him. Let
alone … God, kissing him would just be …
But … he was still the person Justin most wanted to spend time with. He’d been
trying to work out for ages how he could find out how Brian lived, where he
lived. If somehow they could work out a way to …
Live together … Justin realized. He’d been trying to figure out a way that they
could live together.
Just … without sex.
Without touching, really.
God! What a mess he’d gotten himself into.
He’d fallen in love with a monster.
And he didn’t have a fucking clue what to do about it.
He was still stewing about it when he went to meet Brian the next morning.
But this time, there was something different about the figure waiting for him.
Usually, Brian’s withered hands held yesterday’s carrier bags, with their empty
flasks. But today, he shyly offered another bag to Justin.
Puzzled, he took it and peered inside. It held a small, beautifully arranged
posy of flowers, and a hand made card.
His hands shaking, Justin opened the card. And remembered, maybe too late, that
it was Valentine’s Day.
The front of the card had only a single pressed white carnation. Inside, it had
been carefully inscribed in a shaky hand, “To Justin, with love and thanks, for
all your kindness, Brian”.
Justin felt his eyes fill with tears. How fucking unfair was this? After going
through all the fucking evil trolls on the planet, he’d finally met the perfect
guy … and he wasn’t a guy. Well, not really, he was …
Justin looked up, and found Brian surprisingly close to him.
He stared mesmerized into those red, seared eyes, and didn’t flinch as Brian’s
clawed fingers gently cupped his face.
It was only when bone dry lips touched his, and a tongue dry as a lizard’s
forced its way into his mouth that he gave a gasp of horror …
… and, with a violent start, he woke up.
Beside him, Brian mumbled a sleepy protest, and burrowed further down into the
bed clothes.
Knowing that he'd just had some weird-assed dream, but still feeling kind of
freaked, Justin slid out of bed, and headed for the bathroom.
He bent over the sink to splash water on his face, and saw the tube of Brian’s
expensive French face cream.
He remembered getting home from Babylon's Halloween extravaganza all hot and
horny and the tussle he’d had with his lover because he was too impatient to
wait for Brian to go through his fucking beauty ritual; how he’d dragged Brian
protesting all the way, out of the bathroom and back to the bed before he’d had
the chance to use the stuff.
Giggling with relief, he promised himself that he’d never again interfere with
Brian’s moisturizing routine.
After all, he didn’t want his lover’s skin to dry out and for him to turn into
some kind of monster, did he?
Especially on Halloween.
Still giggling to himself, Justin made his way back to bed, sighing in happy
relief when Brian opened one beautiful hazel eye to grunt at him “You okay?”
He grinned at his partner and nodded, sliding closer and allowing his arm to
drape across the smooth skin of his lover’s back.
The eye peered at him a moment longer, and then closed, and soon they had both
fallen back into sleep.
This time, all their dreams were sweet ones.
****
Author’s Notes: The title comes from a line from Shakespeare's
"Midsummer Night's Dream" - "Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind, and
therefore is winged Cupid painted blind".
And, according to at least one book on flowers, the white carnation represents
"Pure love, sweet love, innocence"
Return to Wren's