by Nicci Harris
“It isn’t till I didn’t know,
It isn’t really truly alone,
Until you aren’t there,
Until I made it unfair.
Fear forever tests time,
Time is tested in the mind,
Mind forever questions time,
Time’s worth nothing without you.
Greens don’t say go,
Greens stay gold forever,
In between go and slow,
In between like and love.
Fear forever tests time,
Time is tested in the mind,
Mind forever questions time,
Time’s worth nothing without you.
Touch isn’t worth its dime,
Touch can’t be all of mine,
Coins aren’t worth the content,
Coins won’t spin like mine.
Fear forever tests time,
Time is tested in the mind,
Mind forever questions time,
Time’s worth nothing without you."
The last line of the chorus that has filled my chest with hope, which is all I wanted, ‘time’s worth nothing without you.’
She plays a few covers before ending on my favourite; Hero Boy. She plays it, and every chord runs the entire length of my veins. I lose my shit, tearing up and falling in love all over again. I love her. I love her. I love Blesk. Listening and admiring that song with a fresh perspective, it seems so obvious now. Every line takes the listener through our story, from beginning to end. In the basement, ‘It’s still dark at three pm, dark for no good reason,’ making our promises, ‘Let’s do all the things we planned to do, remember what we wanted to,’ running away and changing our names, ‘and we will run from the clawless fox, we can unchain and unlock that box, let’s smash our names with blunt rocks, ‘til they disappear and no one talks.’
It is all there.
I lean on the bar and focus on simple innate tasks, like breathing, swallowing, standing.
Breathe, Konnor.
As I’m trying to hold myself together, struggling to contain all the emotions radiating from me, someone pats me on the shoulder. I turn to acknowledge whoever it is, despite knowing my eyes are red and swollen.
“Hey, man,” I say to Drake, wiping my eyes with my sleeve. He diverts his gaze to the ground.
“Fuck, Slate, sort ya self out, will ya?” He grips my shoulder and squeezes it to signify he only half means what he said. But his voice sounds genuine with worry, and that makes me feel worse because I hate pity.
“Yeah, I know, right? What a pussy,” I say with a forced huff. I’d be mocking me mercilessly, if I were him.
“Nah, mate, pussies are useful, you’re more like a… an appendix or something,” he chuckles at his own joke. So do I. “How much have you had to drink today?”
“Not enough.”
He glares at me, dubiously. “I think that’s a subjective analysis, mate.”
I hold my hand up to signal Jewels to pour me another drink. “I’ve already been limited. Jewels is looking after me.”
Drake nods at the lovely Jewels in appreciation. “She does some things right.”
“You’d know,” I say, preparing myself for an entertaining interaction between the two of them. They dated for a year, and it was a hot and heavy romance. The kind that ends in a train wreck.
Jewels approaches us. “Drake, you still haven’t done anything about that thing on your shoulders.”
He chuckles. “And you clearly still haven’t been to the gym.”
She rolls her eyes. “I don’t need a gym. Brock keeps me fit enough.”
“Funny, looks like you’re losing definition. Maybe you should take me back, and I’ll show you how mattress gymnastics should be performed.”
A flirtatious smile pulls at her lips. He mirrors her expression and leans on the bar, edging closer to her.
“I’ve been trying to get that disgusting five seconds out of my mind for the past six months, and I wouldn’t want to undo all that effort,” she says, then she walks off with a slight skip in her step.
Drake grins from ear-to-ear and calls out, “It took you six months?”
She scoffs and spins to face him. “That kind of trauma takes a while to get over.”
As he watches her lean across the bar and serve another person, he says, “She wants me.”
I crack up. "You got burn, man,” I chuckle, looking around to see the band area empty.
Blesk has completely packed up. She didn’t look out into the crowd once, so she never saw me. She's gone. Her absence immediately forces the air out from the room, and I begin to panic.
“Does she usually have a drink after her sets?” I ask Drake.
Drake looks at his feet evasively.
“What?” I ask, frowning at him suspiciously.
He takes a weird exaggerated breath in and releases it quickly, pushing the words out at the same time. “She usually has a drink afterwards, dude. Usually someone buys her one or she sits with some people she seems to know.”
“Why are you looking so nervous? What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing. It’s just,” he starts, talking calmly as if not to startle an animal, “I saw her getting a bit cosy with this guy last Friday.”
What the hell does that even mean?
I feel like I’m at a boiling point. Drake notices my expression and continues, “Calm down. I intercepted her, mate. She looked startled to see me, and then I hung out with her the rest of the night.”
“Intercepted? Intercepted what, exactly? Seriously Drake, you being all vague is making this worse. Did he kiss her? Touch her? What happened?”
“His arm was draped around her shoulder. And they were close. Like, if I were her boyfriend, it would have been too close. I couldn’t see much more. When I approached, it was like a bomb went off. They turned into shrapnel.”
Calming breaths.
“Point Casanova out to me? Is he here?” I gesture towards the booths. Every muscle in me is distractingly tight and rigid, and the alcohol is stopping rational thought from settling in my mind.
“What are you gonna do?” Drake asks hesitantly.
“Nothing,” I say, feigning innocence. “Have a chat. A nice chat.”
He points, and recognition narrows my eyes.
It's Matt from my Beginners Education to Music 103 class.
Little shit.
I didn’t like him from the moment I saw him. Though he’s alone, there are two drinks on his table. I’m going to make damn sure one of them is for me. I wander over, ignoring whatever it is Drake is trying to say to me.
I grab the drink and slide down in front of Matt. “Thanks for the drink.”
Yep, I’m going to lose my job.
Shock transforms his face as I swig on Blesk’s drink. “K . . . Konnor,” he stutters. “Well, that wasn’t for you, but I can grab another one.”
I eyeball him warningly. “She likes wine. White.”
“What?” he avoids my eyes, pretending he has no idea what I’m talking about when he obviously does. I part my legs, slouch down and make myself comfortable in the chair opposite him.
I snort. “Blesk. She likes wine. Not whatever cheap rum is in this.”
“It’s Captain Morgan, actually, and I really like it.” I’m completely startled when I hear her voice come from behind me.
I fly up and spin around as she approaches, a little smile faintly visible. Gravity, time, space, any quantifiable relevance to moments and places completely cease to exist. Time is still, everyone and everything else stops, the music stops, and the drumming of my pulse fills my ears.
She is so beautiful.
And I’m pretty wasted.
My heart lodges in my throat when she is only a few steps away. She stops and lifts a blonde brow at me, grinning. She sees straight through me.
“Hi, Mr. Slater. You aren’t dead. I thought you ran out of food.”
“I ate the batteries,” I mur
mur as a grin tugs at my lips.
She laughs, and we both beam at each other.
“I’m glad you aren’t dead.”
“Wouldn’t you rather have wine, though?” I ask, cheekily. “Over rum, I mean. Wine is so delicious and corny and good looking.”
She giggles, and that gorgeous tongue sticks out. “Wine is corny and good looking.” She rolls her eyes before continuing. “And delicious. But rum is easy.” Her sly little smile makes my eye lids heavy.
I take her hand. “Oh, now nothing good ever comes easy.”
Our eyes lock on each other.
I completely don’t care that we are in public, on display, or that everyone is looking, because she is the only thing I care about. I don’t care that Matt looks like I just stole his favourite toy, glaring up at us from behind his glass of beer. I don’t care about anything other than her. And right now, she is the only person I want to see. Her face. And I don’t want her to go another second thinking I don’t love her with every inch of my being, and then some.
“Duch.” I place my hand over the top of hers, pancaking it between both of mine. I anchor myself in those fluttering brown eyes. “I know you think I don’t love you, for you—”
She interjects with a pleading little voice, “Konnor, stop, I know—”
Pathetic desperation causes me to cut in. “No, I need to talk to you, I ju—”
“Konnor, I know,” she says. “It’s okay. I was going to come see you soon. I wanted to see you. I wanted to talk.”
Oh, thank fuck!
“Duch, do you,” I clear my throat, “Do you wanna go for a long pointless walk with me?”
She smiles. “Yes.”
I am so consumed by being with her again I don't even remember leaving The Grill but we are now strolling silently, hand-in-hand. We walk as we walked weeks ago when we thought we were strangers strangely drawn together.
I stop and turn to face her. She mimics my position, giving me her undivided attention.
“Will you let me speak? I may ramble, I just have to say some things that have been on my mind for the past few weeks.”
Her eyes smile at me. “The floor is yours, Mr Slater.”
I inhale a big deep breath for courage. “I know you think that I don’t love you for you, Duch! For the woman you have become. But you are so wrong. My love for you is goddamn pathological. I do love Liz, I do. I grew into half a man without her, thinking about her, and I have loved her more than my own life.
But I love the person she has become, too, just as much, just as intensely. You have become an incredible woman. You're so talented. So funny. I love that you mock me and laugh at me when I get jealous. I love that you look at me like I look at you. I love the way you press your tongue between your teeth when you smile. I love how your giggle comes from your throat, and when you laugh your shoulders shake, like you can’t stop even if you wanted to. I love the way you say o...kay in a cute voice when I have convinced you to do something that makes you nervous . . .”
Her lips are trembling, and shiny tears run down her face as she begins to cry. Her chest rises and falls more rapidly, as does mine. And then she giggles through a silly splutter of tears.
That giggle, those tears of happiness, I did that.
I continue. “I love that you’re happy with a hot dog over a five-star meal. I love that you’re terrible at puns. I love that you are sentimental and that when you see something unique or beautiful you fixate on it and let it take complete control of the moment for you. I love that you check me out and don’t try to hide it.”
She gasps when I pull her into me until her chest is rested right where it ought to be—against mine.
“I love you, Duch. It’s insane, but I fucking love you.” I wipe a tear from her cheek and watch as she processes my words. “Don’t cry.”
“I just didn’t want to be loved for her.”
“You aren’t. Give me a chance to show you.”
She sighs into a smile. “Okay… you had me at cello.”
Damn that sounds good to hear…
Those six words smother the fire that’s burned inside me for the past two weeks and soothe me like nothing else could.
Her grin grows. “Are you going to kiss me already?”
“Woah, slow down girl.” I laugh. “I mean, you’re pretty, but, seriously, at least take me out for dinner first.”
She glares at me, but her grin conveys her true feelings. I can’t help myself. I need to claim those lips. I caress the nape of her neck while I guide her towards my mouth, then brush my lips gently along hers, savouring the moment. We both exhale on contact, relieved, releasing all that need. I part my mouth, running my tongue slowly along her lower lip and tasting the saltiness of her tears. When her lip twitches against my tongue, restraint becomes impossible. I need her. I need her now.
Her whole body goes slack when my arms tighten around her waist, pulling her onto her tippy toes and crushing our lips together. My mouth kneads around hers, moulding our lips together. Blesk moans, and every part of me reacts.
I massage her tongue with mine, wanting to suck it, taste it. I kiss her with so much passion, as if without her lips I may die. She tastes as good as I thought. Nothing has ever felt this right, this good. Nothing ever will. Her lips were meant to be on mine.
My hands enjoy the feel of the delicate curve from her waist to her arse. I deepen our kiss, tilting my head and showing her the depth of my yearning. I trace the arc of her spine and feel her muscles spasm in response to my fingertips, quivering under my touch. My breath is lost somewhere in her mouth. She is stealing my air, my sanity, and any hope I had of surviving an existence without her. I’m in crazy, irrevocable, undeniable love.
SEVENTEEN: Deakon
“What do you mean?” the boy asks the man who hovers over his bed smiling at him with tight lips and narrowed eyes. He looks at the boy with pity and concern, and the boy doesn’t want any of it.
“What do you mean?” the boy repeats, involuntarily caressing the soft sheets below him and blinking at the surrounding lights. It is too bright for him. The man pats the boy’s shoulder, a long, firm pat that feels like it could leave a bruise. The boy can’t remember the last time someone touched him there. Maybe no one ever has. The boy forces his eyes to bear the bright lights so he can look up at the older man. “Say it again.”
The boy doesn’t understand the words the man has been repeating to him. Or perhaps he refuses to because that would mean believing them, and that would mean they are true, and that would be completely unbearable. Unbearable for a boy who has endured four years of imprisonment. A new level of unbearable.
“I’m sorry. She’s gone.”
They said they would find her and keep her safe, the boy thinks to himself. Protect her. They used the word protect.
We will find her.
The boy repeats the words he heard in the woods and prefers them much more to the ones he is hearing now.
We will find her
“Liz fell. We did everything we could,” the man says.
We did everything we could.
We did everything we could.
What does that mean?
What did they do?
What did they need to do?
Why don’t people ask me?
I could have told them.
She gets scared in the dark.
She falls on steps sometimes.
She is allergic to bee stings.
She is very bad at math.
She thinks there is a girl in her class who doesn’t like her.
Have they asked that girl?
Why didn’t they ask me?
I could have told them.
What did they need to do?
The boy feels sickness rack his body. Heat rises up his throat. He forces himself to remain calm and frowns up at the man for more answers.
“How many days has it been?”
The man breathes out loudly. “One days, Deakon.”
Liz.
“She’s gone, Deakon. She has gone somewhere better.”
Somewhere better?
Then she would be with me.
Or she would take me.
Why wouldn’t she want to be with me?
I only want to be with her.
Somewhere better?
I don’t understand.
The boy suddenly smiles. “She doesn’t know where I am,” he says, realisation brightening his eyes. “Tell her, and then she’ll come back.”
The man shakes his head slowly. “No, Deakon, she won’t be back because she’s gone to heaven.”
She wouldn’t go anywhere without me.
“Where is heaven?”
The man slouches on a deep sigh. He blinks at the boy for a moment, and then turns to talk to someone behind him. The boy doesn’t like the man. Or the other one.
“Where is heaven?” the boy yells, more panicked than he can remember ever being. “I need to know how to get there.”
EIGHTEEN: Blesk
I did choose wine; I chose Konnor. Of course, as if there was really any question. I knew that I wanted to talk to him. I thought maybe we could start a fresh relationship, an honest one. Then before I got the chance he had to go and say all that wonderful stuff about me, and detail all the reasons he loves me. I am a fool. I couldn’t resist him.
After a few drinks, we walked back to his apartment in comfortable silence. My cheeks have been on fire since our kiss. I’ve never had a kiss consume my whole body, smother my mind in relentless need, and coil its warmth around my soul like an entity apart. He held me against him with a gentle dominance and led without hesitation, with a natural rhythm and yearning. His lips, the perfect mixture of soft and firm. His big strong hands moved around my body possessively, obsessively. Every kiss should be measured by that one. But most of all, I felt safe. I felt safe in his arms and pressed to his lips. Somewhat of a new feeling for me.