Chapter 4

Hooking his toes, encased in a sneaker, into the small hollow on the rock, Elias grasped onto Alistair’s shoulders and pulled himself up, onto his lap, all without breaking the kiss. Alistair's legs uncrossed underneath him, only to entangle with his.

And Elias started tugging at Alistair’s shirt feverously, trying to get the offensive thing off.

“You’re so eager,” Alistair chuckled, the sound reverberating through Elias. And then, he growled when Elias gently nibbled on his lower lip. “Elias!” His fingers dug into Elias’s hair.

Elias’s legs swept over the rock and locked around Alistair’s waist.

Bam!

He hit the book which flew over the stone, the pages flipping vigorously. “Your sketchbook!” Elias threw himself at it, catching it just before it would fall over the edge and land in the dirty soil. The muscles in his calves, thighs, and abdomen flexed as they used Alistair’s waist for their anchor.

But it lasted less than a second, as Alistair’s strong arms came around Elias’s stomach, pulling him back up. “Don’t tell me you hate me so much you want to hurt yourself just so you could escape from me?” Alistair jested, although his eyes were full of concern.

And fear.

It was the first time ever that Elias saw Alistair afraid. And more than anything, he wanted to erase that look, completely. Slightly out of breath, Elias said, “I didn’t…want your sketchbook to get…ruined. It looked like it means…a lot…to you.”

His chest was rising and falling fast, and he couldn’t tell if it was from all of the exercising, or the intense kissing that took place only moments ago. Or perhaps, it was the desire to tear those clothes from Alistair and lose himself in his warm embrace.

“Not as much as—” Alistair suddenly paused and shook his head. “It’s just not worth getting injured over.” He was about to take the sketchbook from Elias when Elias dropped his eyes at it. And regretted it almost immediately.

“Is this person real?” he asked, a knot forming in his throat.

With the sun setting on the horizon, the colors of amethyst and rhodolite were spilling over a page, adorned with another drawing of an angel, in ink. Or better yet, the angel. The exact same one as the one Alistair drew earlier.

Only that this time, the angel was fully exposed, and clearly male. He was lying on silken sheets, *****, although the drawing ended just under the waistline. His upper body reminded of a stone statue, lean yet muscular. Those black wings were spread around him, just as were the long strands of hair, like a halo.

An arm over his eyes made it impossible to distinguish the face, but the satisfied smile on his slightly-parted lips was enough to tell exactly after which activity the picture had been drawn.

Elias would dismiss it as just art if it weren’t for the words below it, written in a cursive font.

Me unum atque unicum. Mea amor.

He wasn’t entirely sure about the first line, but for the second one, he didn’t need any explanation. My love.

Alistair snatched the sketchbook back and closed it shut with a hollow thud. “You weren’t supposed to see this.”

Of all the things he could say. Elias’s heart sank even lower. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

He started climbing off the rock, the earlier eagerness gone. “Look, if you have a partner, you should’ve just told me. I don’t mind hooking up with people in an open relationship, as long as all parties consent. If you two are monogamous though, I don’t intend to be the person you cheat with.”

“No, no, no! Elias, wait!” Alistair jumped down, then, gripping the sketchbook tightly, blocked Elias’s way. “First, stop apologizing, there's nothing to apologize for. This was my mistake. Secondly, you’re coming to wrong conclusions.”

Elias stopped. “I am?” A flicker of hope ignited in his chest.

“Yes.” Alistair nodded. “Look, he’s real, and he used to be my lover. But that was a long time ago. He used to keep on telling me I was his whole world, but once I gave him what he wanted, he just took it and left as though what we had never mattered.”

At those words, an image of Elias's mother flashed before his eyes. “What a fucking asshole,” he muttered, unable to resist. An emotionally-abusive manipulator.

With his free hand, Alistair reached forward. He sifted his fingers through Elias’s short locks of hair, making Elias involuntarily shudder. “Not to me,” he whispered, gazing into Elias’s eyes. He leaned in for a kiss.

The moment his lips locked on Elias’s, despite himself, Elias moaned. Instinctually, his body arched into Alistair’s, the air squeezing out of Elias’s lungs at the firm pressure. And then, the last shred of sanity thankfully kicking in, he pushed Alistair away. His eyes went wide at realization as they searched Alistair’s face, full of desperate longing.

“You still love him,” he gasped. It wasn’t a question. His chest heaving, he moved back. “And I somehow remind you of him. That’s why you were acting so familiar with me. Why you went along with me pouncing on you so fast. And here I was, thinking you are as attracted to me as I am to you.”

“Elias…” Alistair took a step forward.

“No.” Elias put up a hand to stop Alistair’s protests while he rubbed his forehead with the other. “This isn’t going to work out, at all. I could maybe be okay with being a rebound. But a replacement? That’s too much, even for me.”

“I guess that’s…understanble.” Alistair sighed. “I shouldn’t have done this to you.”

You really shouldn’t. Getting my hopes up so much. But really, it was my own fault. I wanted more than I could ever have. Elias dropped his arms. “It’s fine. I hope you’ll be able to sort through these emotions one day. I truly do. For your own sake.”

And then, he turned around, every inch of him burning with sadness. Under the faint, silvery moonlight, now penetrating the tree crowns, he started running.

Only that this time, he didn’t look back.

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