by Max Hudson
A circular table covered in white cloth sat in the center of the tower room next to a window that overlooked El Paso. Two candles framed the table, both lit, with plates on either side that were covered with silver domes. A bottle of red wine sat between the two candles. The heavenly smell of roasted chicken and garlic potatoes filled the room and prompted Mark to step toward the table.
He paused. “This is...for me?”
“All for you.”
“How did you even--?”
“I have my connections.”
Mark smiled. “Oh, it's beautiful.”
He wandered toward the window and placed his palms on the stone, leaning out of the frame to inhale the fresh breeze coming through. Beyond the tower was a breathtaking view of the town complete with buildings, shrubbery, and a medley of colors that lit up the night. Everywhere that could be seen had a streetlight or a lamp, illuminating all the paths that led through the town.
“Gorgeous,” Mark whispered. “Absolutely gorgeous.”
While he was occupied by the sight, Tristan took out his phone and started playing soft violin music, setting it up in the corner at a comfortable volume so they could still talk. He came up behind Mark and wrapped his arms around Mark's waist, resting his chin on Mark's shoulder. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes, very.”
“Would you like to join me?”
“Please.”
Tristan walked around the table to get Mark's chair, holding it out for Mark to sit. Once Mark was seated, Tristan went to his chair and got comfortable. He took the cloth napkin from the table and set it in his lap before reaching for the silver domes. “Ready?”
Mark smiled wide and rubbed his hands together. “What do we got?”
Upon revealing the food, Mark's features went from happy to absolute bliss. His eyes washed over the food covering his plate and his stomach audibly growled, causing him to cover his mouth and giggle.
“Don't worry about it. That just means it smells good,” Tristan assured.
“Did you cook this?”
“I did. I hope you enjoy it.”
“God, Tristan, this is just incredible. I'm impressed.”
“I'm glad.”
Tristan gestured for Mark to eat and Mark happily grabbed his fork to start digging in. Tristan felt satisfied watching the delight crawl over Mark's face after that first bite, reveling in the fact that it pleased Mark in more ways than just physical.
“If I'm a demon, then you must be an angel because this food is not of this world,” Mark complimented.
Tristan chuckled. “Oh, just wait. My cooking skills get even better.”
“Have you always been this amazing?”
Tristan paused with his fork near his lips, catching Mark's gaze across the table. Mark's eyes were sparkling with pure happiness, a beautiful sight that captured Tristan's attention immediately. He held that stare, savored it, and treasured it just as he would any photograph he had taken. He beheld it as gently as a kitten or a puppy.
“What?” Mark asked.
Tristan smiled wide. “Nothing.”
“Are you sure?”
“Totally sure.”
“So, what is it with this tower? I didn't even know this was here.”
“You mean you've never seen it?”
“I've seen it from the outside, but I didn't know what it was for.”
“Part of this building used to be a church way back in the 1800's. It caught fire sometime after it was built and part of the left side was destroyed, but the right was intact. It sat untouched for a long time before the museum bought it.”
Mark grinned. “Wild.”
“Would you like some wine?”
“Oh, yes, please.”
As Tristan picked up the bottle of red wine sitting in between the candles, he continued his explanation, “Where we're sitting now used to be a prayer tower. The museum closed it off whenever they opened, to keep people from falling off that ledge over there.”
“God, did that used to be a problem?”
“I mean, not really. I think they were thinking more in terms of avoiding lawsuits.”
“That makes sense.”
“Anyway, they rent it out on occasion to couples for dates.”
“I bet it's about to get busy.”
Tristan nodded, laughing. “Yeah, Valentine's Day is coming up. Do you think you'll be doing anything for that day?”
A sort of grimace formed on Mark's lips before he rapidly wiped it away. “I mean, it's not really my thing.”
“Maybe this year it can be your thing.”
“Maybe. So—how often do you come up here?”
“On occasion. Sometimes, I just come up here to sit and photograph things on the street.”
“You mean you spy on people?”
Tristan laughed. “How else would I have found you?”
“Tell me you have a whole back story prepared.”
“I do.”
Mark grinned and gestured toward Tristan. “By all means, tell me.”
“Well, I was just up here doing my thing--”
“Praying.”
“--Right. And I saw you walking down the street looking really cute. I decided to figure out where you worked, apply for a job there, and then stalk you until you were ready to meet me.”
“That's rather elaborate.”
“Impressive, I know.”
Mark grinned playfully. “You don't seem like the type with that big of an ego.”
“Maybe not now, but you'll find out soon.”
“I know something else that's big.”
Tristan blushed. “Cut it out.”
“My apologies. I can stop.”
“I'd rather you not.”
Tristan grinned, unable to contain his contentment. It was more than contentment at this point—it was delight, excitement, and satisfaction. He could feel the bond between Mark and him growing significantly, tugging them closer together over the table. As he leaned in for a kiss, he knocked over his glass of wine and it shattered against the stone floor.
“Whoops,” he said as he swooped down to scoop it up into a cloth napkin. “God, I'm such a klutz.”
“It's okay.”
When all the pieces were gathered, Tristan surfaced. “Sorry.”
“Don't worry about it.”
“Are you nearly done? I'd love it if you could come over.”
“Yeah?”
Tristan smiled. “Yeah.”
“I'd like that a lot.”
“We could take some more pictures.”
Mark leaned forward and rested his chin on his hand. “I'd like that even more.”
Chapter Nine
Mark stood in the center of Tristan's incredibly posh apartment, turning around a few times to absorb the photographs that decorated the walls. There were large pieces of canvas sporting the magnificent wonders of the world with small photographs perfectly placed around them of other incredible sights: expansive oceans, tall towers, great castles, and a medley of diverse people.
“Wow,” he whispered. “You really have been everywhere.”
“I can't help it.”
“That's admirable.”
Tristan chuckled. “It's just in my nature. I want to keep traveling until my body can't do it anymore.”
“I bet you'll be traveling even on your death bed.”
“That's a rather dark place to go.”
Mark gestured to himself. “Who am I?”
The comment caused Tristan to laugh as he poured wine into two crystal glasses. He walked over to Mark and handed him a glass, raising his for a salute. “To our budding friendship.”
“May it be more than that.”
Grinning, Tristan clinked his glass against Mark's and sipped his wine while curiously allowing his eyes to wander down Mark's frame. Although Mark invited such a glance, it made him feel tense. That desirous gaze was overwhelming. Tristan—a mere stranger just a few days ago—had been more romantic and ki
nder in their brief time together than anyone had in his life. He felt compelled to lean in and kiss Tristan.
It was a quick kiss, an improvised gesture of affection that made him want to retreat. He felt conflicted. The other night had been so grand that he felt like more intimacy would be fine, but he didn't want to assume.
Nervously, he retreated to the wall where he could inspect the details of the photographs. “So, where are you going from here?”
“What do you mean?”
“You said you had only been working for the paper for six months, yet you seem to have a ton of connections around here.”
“Right, I suppose that would be slightly suspicious.”
“Only mildly.” Mark winked. “I'm just curious.”
“That's perfectly natural. Honestly, I've been in El Paso before. I didn't necessarily work here at that time, but I was living here.”
“What were you doing then?”
“Well, I...” Tristan trailed off as he went to the balcony door, peering out into the night through the glass. He looked distant; lost. But just as quickly as he had mentally left, he bounced back and turned to Mark with a smile. “It's really nothing.”
Mark stepped forward sympathetically. “I don't mind listening.”
“It's old news.”
“I understand.”
As Mark found a comfortable spot on the couch, Tristan crossed the room and leaned against the table positioned at the opposite wall, the one that boasted a medley of objects from other countries.
“It's just--” Tristan sighed before taking a deep breath. “I was here for someone—a guy I loved—and it just didn't work out.”
“I'm sorry to hear that.”
“He was really sweet, you know? I dropped everything in Georgia to come out here and join him. We were supposed to start a business together, a sort of blog, you could say, about photography and art in general.”
Mark frowned, feeling empathetic. “That sounds like a lot. If it's okay for me to ask, what happened?”
“We were doing well until I found him with someone else.”
“Ugh, what an ass.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I mean, I could tell you about it, but I don't know everything about the situation. I say, 'Good riddance.'”
Tristan raised his glass. “I agree.”
“So, did you stay or did you go back to Georgia?”
“I went back to Atlanta, Georgia to stay with a friend of mine. He really helped me out whenever things went south. I lost everything.”
“God, that's terrible.”
“At least I had most of my photography equipment. I didn't really care about the furniture. That guy tore me in two.”
“I can't even imagine.”
“Have you ever had something like that happen before?”
Mark glanced into the pool of crimson liquid in his glass, studying his reflection in the ripples. “Not necessarily.”
“I'm sorry to pry.”
“No, it's all right.” Mark glanced up and offered a small smile. “It's natural to get to know each other, right? These hard things just come up.”
“Of course.”
“I never really had many boyfriends or friends in general. I bounced around in the foster care system until I was eighteen.”
Tristan frowned. “Oh, God—I'm so sorry.”
“Eh, it's old news.”
“It looks like you recovered very well from that. As far as I've heard, it's not a fun system to be in.”
“No, it's not.”
Tristan crossed the room and sat in the empty space next to Mark, wrapping a comforting arm around Mark's shoulders. He pulled Mark in close and pressed his lips to Mark's cheek, smelling like a mixture of vanilla and red wine. Mark glimmered with delight.
“It seems we both have haunting pasts, eh?” Tristan joked gently. “I don't ever want you to feel forced to share anything with me. Share at your own pace.”
“I feel the same.”
“I know it's rough. I had a hard time opening up to people after that wretched guy. It took me a few years to get back on my feet.”
“I can empathize.”
“We can totally get off this subject, too.”
Mark grinned. “That would be ideal.”
Nodding, Tristan offered another kiss before relaxing back into the cushions. “So, what are your plans for the coming years?”
“I haven't given it too much forethought. I try not to plan ahead because I always change my goals.”
“That's fair. What's one goal you have?”
“I'd love to start displaying my work more. Seeing my painting hanging up in that gallery just made me feel... almost complete. I've always donated to the museum, but I've never tried to get my art in there.”
“That sounds like an excellent goal to have.”
“What about you?”
Tristan stroked his chin. “Aside from traveling, I think I'd like to eventually move out of El Paso. I'd love to explore the places I've been by living there, one town at a time.”
“Wow, that's incredible.”
“I feel like I have such a limited world view. If I stay in one place for a year—hell, even just six months—I'll have such a wider scope to pull from, you know?”
“Makes sense.”
“Do you ever think about traveling?”
Mark attempted to shrug with his tensed shoulders. “I don't suppose I'd like it very much. I've always been here and I've always seen myself staying here.”
“I wouldn't prefer that for myself, but I won't judge you for it.”
“Oh, how kind of you.”
Tristan smiled playfully. “What about with the paper? Any goals there?”
“I think I'd like to draw more than silly cartoons. I'd love to get into the political side of things, but Clive isn't exactly receptive to it. He wants to remain as unbiased as possible, as far as cartoons go.”
“Some papers are like that in my experience. They don't want to offend their audience, yet they want to retain the audience's attention. It's strange.”
“Oh, definitely. It's stranger than me.”
Tristan laughed. “And if you could do anything else in the world, what do you think you would do?”
“Sail.”
“Ah, back to the sea, I see.”
Mark giggled. “Wouldn't you like to do that, Mr. Explorer?”
“Actually, it's been on my list for a while now. Maybe we should hit the coast soon and check it out. I've always loved the ocean.”
“It's funny because I don't really like the ocean as much as I just like the vast horizon of nothingness that's out there.”
“I should have known it was something dark.”
Mark winked. “What else did you expect?”
Tristan smiled contentedly and leaned his head to one side, keeping his eyes connected to Mark's. He swirled his wine slowly as his hand crawled into Mark's lap, locating Mark's hand. Mark accepted his hand and grinned.
“You know, despite your dedication to your habits, you do surprise me,” Tristan commented.
“Is that so? How?”
“I mean, you always seemed like you had a broody temperament.”
“I thought you never saw me before.”
“I spied on you, remember?”
Mark nodded knowingly, going along with the joke. “Of course.”
“I've definitely seen you around the paper, but I never really noticed you. I hope that isn't offensive.”
“Not at all. I had the same reaction to you. It's like I have seen you before, but only in passing.”
“When we first spoke, I didn't think you'd be so full of life. It's funny that you play up your nonchalant attitude when you're really just brimming with energy.”
Mark couldn't help but laugh. “You can't be serious.”
“I am so serious!”
“I suppose we're all just different on the inside. I'm always relatively honest, but I will ad
mit I wear a mask on certain occasions.”
“I can agree with that. It's like we cater to our environments.”
Mark nodded. “Exactly. We try to blend in as well as we can. The greatest offense of mankind is his ability to shun the outsider, right? Why wouldn't we want to try to fit in?”
“So, right now—are you wearing a mask?”
“I...” Mark faded, immediately occupying his lips with more wine. He took a larger gulp than intended and struggled to swallow it, trying to keep Tristan's gaze while trying to keep his features under control. When the wine had gone down, he continued, “I don't think so.”
“I hope that wasn't rude to ask.”
“I mean, it's only been a few days, but...”
“But what?”
Mark smiled. “But I feel like I've known you forever.”
He reached out to caress Tristan's cheek, running his fingers down his skin to his chin. He squeezed his chin gently and trailed down Tristan's neck to the divot just beneath his throat. He traced the outline of muscle and bone hiding underneath Tristan's shirt, sighing softly as he dipped down to his stomach.
“Do you ever get that feeling with someone?” he inquired. “Like maybe you've met before? Touched before?”
“You sound like me.”
“Oh?”
Tristan smiled while closing his eyes. “I've always thought about having a twin flame—a connection with someone who was absolutely meant to be mine. And I always thought that I would know instantly as soon as I met them.”
“Do you believe in fate?”
“I do. Absolutely. I undoubtedly feel a past connection with you.”
“Like...reincarnated soulmates?”
Tristan hummed but didn't respond. His features were utterly relaxed, clearly enjoying the sensation of Mark's fingers trailing all over his body. Mark took this opportunity to sink lower to Tristan's thighs where he caressed them and rubbed them.
“I always felt like my twin flame was out there somewhere. I've always wanted to know,” Tristan whispered.
“Do you think it's me?”
Tristan opened his eyelids to small slits. “I do.”