by Thea Archer
"So sweet."
"What the fuck is he doing?"
"This is way over the line."
I straightened, hoping to disappear.
"Mind your own shit!" Judith growled at curious faces turned to me.
"You know..." I said weakly, "I feel like I'm dying more than when I was actually dying. I'll go to the Archive."
She smiled at me encouragingly.
"You've been great."
Somehow I managed to stumble through the terminal, feeling unfriendly glances followed me, and as soon as I closed the Archive's door behind my back, I had to take a few deep breaths to calm myself and focus my thoughts on the more worrisome problem I had.
"Where the hell are you?" I muttered under my breath, looking in the depth of the narrow lane between countless rows of shelving by each side.
I didn't hear any rustle or sounds of footsteps; Ian didn't want to come out — there was no other conclusion I could come to.
At least I can't get tired, I thought, moving toward the racks.
This aisle seemed endless. Though, maybe it actually was endless since Evi'd said no one has ever seen the end of its room. At first, I tried to determine the approximate time of my hike, counting my own steps, but lost count after three thousand and something.
I'd never been intimidated by the isolation, but it was strangely ominous to look forward and not see the rows' end. No less disturbing were the thoughts about all the thousands of folders I was passing by, contained the records of people who once breathed the same air with me. I tried to focus on my feet, but it kept popping back into my restless head. Someone's mothers, someone's children, someone's loved ones... All that was left of them was a stack of pages. And the same was going to happen to me.
And then I froze where I stood, reacting automatically, as I heard a distant smooth hum in the air. It was very quiet; I closed my eyes and strained to catch the sound.
"With all the light and dark days... I don't know when, but I'll come back one day...[1] "
I exhaled sharply in relief.
"With all the places in my head... As my last stop, I'll fly to you."
"Ian," I called out, keeping my pace steady, "do you hear me?"
"Yes," Ian's voice came from the distance, but I couldn't see him yet. "Though I don't want to."
My stride broke.
"Why?" I asked loudly.
"Because any time I hear you, your words hurt me," his voice echoed through the alabaster white walls.
I moved forward again, quickening my pace.
"I know. I'm sorry. I won't hurt you anymore. I promise."
"So... what do you want to say to me?" Ian asked. "Something like 'I love you, but...'?"
"No," I said firmly. "No buts."
"What changed your mind?"
"I don't know," I answered honestly. "One thing's for sure; you make me feel alive. And I hate seeing you pained. I don't know how much time we have, but I want to spend it by your side. So could you please help me a tad?"
"No. That's your punishment; you deserve it."
I smiled. Ian was right, of course.
"Fine."
I stopped at the nearest rack, yanked out the random folder from the shelve, and opened the last page.
DATE OF DEATH: 05/22/2005
"It's two thousand and five, Ian. Where are you?" I asked, desperate and irritated at the same time.
I heard Ian's laughter and realized he was closer now. I shoved the folder back on the shelf and sprinted forward to the sound of his voice.
"I can imagine how pissed off Evi with you for your public announcement," he said.
"Well, you should do your best to protect me against her righteous anger," I replied.
"What? Why me?"
"I thought we're dating now."
"Um. It depends on how you'll behave."
"This is how you treat your boyfriend, huh?"
I stopped short at the distinct sound of his voice. I heard his laugh, and I whirled to the sound.
There he was.
He was sitting on the floor, leaning his back against the rack, his knees pulled up to his chest, and his arms curled tightly around them.
"Hey," he said weakly, he seemed embarrassed.
"Ian," my voice faltered, but my determination remained unshakable.
I approached Ian in one stride and knelt right in front of him, feeling his surprised look on me.
"I'm so angry," I confessed.
"With me?" he asked.
I smiled.
"Rather... with myself. I'm angry because I feel something that I shouldn't feel. Something I've never felt before. Something I've always forbidden myself to feel."
He extended his hand toward my face and stroked the tips of his fingers across my right cheek, soft and tentative.
His dark burnt-sugar-colored eyes were fixed on my face, studying intently, expectantly.
"What a coincidence," Ian whispered. "I think I feel something I've never felt before too. But I'm not angry. At first, I was happy, and now... I'm desperate."
I sat on the floor beside him and gently pulled him to me; he cradled against my chest willingly.
"My Amery surrendered," he whispered, pressing his cheek to my chest. "He finally gave up..."
"Yes," I exhaled heavily.
"Amery," his voice was almost inaudible.
"Hm?" I stroked his hair, comfortingly.
"Tell me one more time. Say what you said over the loudspeaker."
His arms curled around me, and I hugged him securely and whispered in his ear. "Ian Hassler, report to the South Gate."
I grunted at the sudden pain in my waist, right in the place where Ian's fingers pinched my skin.
"Don't be a jerk," he said and buried his face against my neck.
"Sorry," I snickered. "I'm not good at confessions."
"Just repeat what you said."
"I love you."
His hands squeezed me tighter.
"Say it again."
"I love you."
"Once more."
I brushed my nose across his cheek and caressed the nape of his neck.
"I love you, Ian," I repeated.
"One m—"
"I love you, I love you, I love you. I'm mad for you, Ian. And just so you know, if I were alive right now, I would blush to death. I bet my face would explode."
"Well, if I were alive right now, I would die of happiness because no one has ever said that to me," he said, his voice was low and tense.
I pulled back to look at him, but he suddenly looked away, smiling sheepishly.
I blinked astonished. I guess if his heart were still beating, his face would've turned red too. I couldn't suppress a laugh.
"Who are you, and what have you done with Ian Hassler, who has slept with half of Munich?" I smiled teasingly.
He raised his dark eyebrows, glaring defiantly at me. Then he grasped my chin and pressed his lips against mine.
"Still here," he murmured as he let me go.
"I see."
"Actually, I'm the dead Ian Hassler, who fell in love with an asexual," he said.
I pursed my lips.
"So, that look in your eye means you want to kiss me?"
"You see right through me."
I touched his face, laying my hand against his cheek; his expression became soft, warm.
"You can do it whenever you want," I said and placed a soft kiss on his parted lips.
He deepened the kiss roughly; his soft lips were moving against mine, and his fingers ran greedily through my hair.
"What a shame," Ian said hoarsely, as I pulled away. "You made me want to live again. By the way... It's also Stuttgart and Nuremberg."
"Hassler..." I whispered, "I'll kill you."
"You are totally welcome," he said and kissed me again, very gently this time. "I'm yours," he murmured against my lips.
"Mine," I replied, tasting this word, melting at the thought.
He was mine now, at t
hat endless, odd, out-of-space, and probably out-of-the-Universal, moment.
His hands curled around me tightly, and that made me feel secure, reliable.
That's what it means to feel loved? I thought.
"So it turns out you could be very tender," Ian murmured against my lips.
Actually, the only thing I had was tenderness. I had it in abundance — I'd always had too much of it. And it was strangling me, those emotions accumulated over ten years had been pressing me against the cold hard ground. And only after death, I got a chance to lighten this burden.
"Anyway, if you don't like it, I could punch you from time to time."
"I guess I finally got a man who can do both, huh?"
16. FIVE STAR SERVICE
"Hey... Um... What are you doing?"
"I hung 'do not disturb' sign on the door."
"Why? What are you... No, what are we going to do?"
Ian closed the door behind his back and grinned blissfully. I tensed, my jaw clenched tight.
"To cuddle!" Ian exclaimed, his arms open as an invitation.
I felt my eyebrows raising. Ian headed toward me and reached out his hand.
"I'm not going to waste any time," he said, and I stiffed me in his embrace. That was annoyingly good. Too good to just standing without any actions. I kissed slowly down his cheek, stopping just at the corner of his mouth.
"So now you're going to tease me?"
I smiled.
"I'm not teasing you, I'm getting used to," I replied.
"Ah. Fine, do what you want."
I touched his lips with mine, but unwelcomed, anxious thoughts made me pull away.
"We're not that lucky, right? We won't get six years, like Evi?"
Ian smiled but lowered his eyes as if hiding something in his dark glare, something that might make me even more anxious.
"I hope so. I'm afraid in six years you may know me better and stop loving me."
"As you said, I see right through you."
"So, what do you think I am?"
I looked at his face and ran my fingers along his cheekbones, once again giving in to admiration for his flawless features.
He was grinning a playful smirk, but something in his glance betrayed him again.
I knew that his 'love at first sight' was a pure lie; he'd chose me because he'd knew that I would've hated him. He sincerely believed that he deserved hatred and contempt, and the way he was frowning when I kissed him is proof of that. Well, I was ready to devote all the time I had to make him believe in himself, to persuade him that he deserved to be loved more than anyone else. Suddenly I remembered our first kiss — the kiss Ian had given me nearly right away he'd saw me.
"You're still a crack ass," I said and wrapped my hands around his neck. "You're an adorable, unbearably gorgeous crack ass."
Ian laughed; he put his arms around my waist and pulled me up from the floor with a painful groan.
"Hey, what are you— Ian!"
"God, you're heavy..."
"Put me… Hey!"
The next moment I was placed on a hard table, and Ian, with the same grin, stretched across his face, settled between my legs.
"Won't you sit down beside me?" I asked.
"No," he said firmly. "Remember, I told you when I first met you that I dream of being between your thighs?"
I patted his head roughly.
"That's hard to forget. Well, enjoy it."
Ian reached for my hand to kiss the wrist softly.
"I wish I could smell you," he said, brushing his nose up against my hand. "I think you smell divine."
He squeezed me, and I kissed him gently.
"How come the virgin is the best kisser I've ever had?" Ian asked, and I grabbed a fistful of the hair on the nape of his neck and yanked his head back.
"Just stop it," I said icily. "I'm stronger than you, Ian, so you shouldn't risk."
"Oh, being a submissive is my thing," he said, clearly enjoying that faint pain.
I let him go and stroke his hair to make amends, but didn't say anything. Ian laughed as if he knew my thoughts.
"I know, Amery. Even if you weren't asexual, my cock here is a useless addition to my body."
"Welcome to my daily life."
We both laughed, and I pulled forward for another kiss. His arms held me tighter, and then I gasped to sudden stinging pain in my left thigh — like the pricks of several needles.
"What the hell," I bounced backward, pushing Ian away, and he blinked, confused.
I leaned down to pat his pockets and pulled a bunch of pushpins from the right one.
"Why are you carrying them around?" I asked, balancing the pushpins on my palm.
Ian's eyes suddenly tightened, but he kept his smile in place.
"To put them under Matthias' butt," he said.
Such an adorable lie, I thought.
I dropped the pushpins on the floor and pulled Ian closer to me, clamping my legs and arms around him. He hugged me back, and I felt a kiss on my shoulder. We were holding each other in comfortable silence while my fingers were stroking his neck.
"Ian, why did you commit suicide?" I half-whispered.
He pulled back slightly but looked away; a smile was playing on his lips.
"I will tell you when I'm sure you are absolutely crazy about me. When I'm sure I won't disappoint you."
"You won't disappoint me. So why?"
"Let me see your body?"
I gazed at him reproachfully.
"Go ahead. Why?"
He unbuttoned my shirt; I silently waited for an answer.
"May I touch you?" he asked hesitantly.
"Do whatever you want."
With deliberate slowness, his hands slid down my stomach, I still looked expectantly at his face, hoping to see the answer in his gaze.
"Because..." Ian smiled again without looking up at me, he carefully unzipped my trousers, "because I gave up. And I'm so ashamed to admit that I gave up, because... I had a chance. But I had no courage. I lost something vital for me, the thing that kept me alive. And just gave up."
His lips gently touched my chest. "You have a stunning body," he remarked, and I grinned.
"Well, it's also useless."
"Not for me. Just kisses are fine for me. May I?"
I nodded, and Ian pressed a kiss against my pubic hair.
"Are you okay?" he gazed up at me.
"It's fine."
"Very nice," Ian commented, peering inside my trousers. "What a loss, you could be a great top. No, really, I've seen a lot of things, you know."
I grasped his chin and tilted his head up to bite his lip instead of a kiss.
"Ow... I knew I wouldn't go unchallenged," Ian said, smiling.
"So, you know I'm angry, jealous, and insecure, right?"
"Such admirable qualities."
I let him go, and he continued to study my body with his lips and fingers.
"Actually, I was circumcised."
Ian looked at me in surprise.
"Phimosis?" he asked.
"Judaism."
"But you are an atheist," he recalled.
"Right."
"It's funny how parents easily decide such things for their children."
I brushed the hair from his forehead.
"My mother already apologized for that. When I told my parents that I'm gay, it was quite a scandal. They both shouted at me and... I just said that they decided for me that I'm going to be a Jew, but they cannot decide who I'm going to love."
"Well said. Although... If I told my parents that I'm gay... My father would've shot me."
"What about your mother?"
"She was beautiful. That's all I remember about her."
I smiled, tracing his features with my fingers.
"I bet she was."
"You know, it's a funny thing that he used to tell me that I'm the biggest mistake he made in his life. And I guess he was right since it was me, who ended it."
I stroked his
cheek comfortingly.
"I've always thought of my grandmother as a mother," he continued. "When I was a kid, I used to call her Mum-yay. Her name was Maengmum. She wanted me to grow up bilingual, so she always spoke with me Thai at home."
"So you know Thai?"
"No. She died when I was seven, so I remember a few phrases. Only the most important things."
"What, for example?"
"Phom hew. That means I'm hungry."
I grinned.
"Undoubtedly, the most important thing."
Ian's lips planted a soft kiss between my collarbones.
"Phom rak khun," he whispered. "So many embraces so many kisses and hundreds of orgasms, but... But still... somehow, Amery, you're the best thing I've ever held in my arms."
For a few seconds, Ian let me enjoy the brown shade of his dark, happy, sparkling glance. And then shamelessly made me forget about it. He made me forget about everything. About where I was. About who I was. I forgot that we were dead, that we were imperishable, and I forgot about the perspectives that were awaiting us ahead.
This delusion had become my point of no return. I realized that I was already in paradise. And even if I had to spend centuries in that place, I was just holding onto the hope that he would be there with me.
***
"I guess this could count as sex."
Ian frowned at my words.
"Did I go too far?" he asked cautiously.
"No, I'm fine," I promised.
He placed another kiss on my naked shoulder, and I closed my eyes, luxuriating in the sensation.
"I should get dressed — if Evi sees us like this, we're screwed," I whispered. "She made an epic scene just because of your sign on the door, imagine what she'll be like if she sees you licking my nipples."
Ian trailed his tongue up to my throat.
"We're in the nineteen ninety-nine aisle, she won't find us," he said hoarsely, and I caught his lips with mine. He kissed me back but pulled away too soon.
"If only I knew you exist..." He said weakly, brushing his lips against mine. I caressed his cheek with my fingers and traced the shape of his nose.
"It wouldn't have mattered," I said. "I'm not the one you would've fallen in love with."
"Well, maybe you're right," he said unwillingly. "I didn't care about anything. People can be dead even before they have died."
He looked down, as if afraid of the exhaustive power of my stare. I pulled him to me, softly, and he rested his head against my chest.