Part One: Gift


Autumn leaves pitched about in the wind like falling rain soaked with dyes of copper and crimson. The shriveled foliage settled on the last remaining shoots of grass quietly, a seasonal carpet to mark the passing of time. Feet pounded the black asphalt pathways as joggers fought to get in a last minute run before the snowfall. The metal playgrounds swarmed with children, venting out their energy before the long hibernation state winter brought.

Across the sidewalk from the playground, a solitary wooden bench sat in the chill, it’s only occupant staring off into the sky. The boy, who looked no older than eighteen, tugged at the sleeves of his knee-length overcoat and shivered, shifting his eyes from the clouds to the ground beside his feet. A colorful yellow ball sat in the woodchips inches from his boot, shifting from side to side as if it had just recently rolled there.

With a sigh that made the dark-haired teen seem much older then he looked, he bent over double and picked up the ball in his hand, rolling back and forth in his palm. His powder blue eyes were still fixed on the ball several moments later, when a child approached the bench shyly. The little boy didn’t speak for a while, hoping that the youth with his ball would simply notice his error and hand it back without an exchange of words.

The stranger on the bench glanced up sharply, feeling eyes on his back. He paused for a moment, and then offered the ball with an open palm, “Is this yours?”

The little boy nodded and carefully took the ball, hugging it close to his chest as he smiled, “Thanks.” And with that, he turned his back and sprinted to the playground where a group of friends were waiting. The dark-haired teen on the bench followed him with his eyes, his entire body ridged, his hand still extended in the position to give the toy back.

The kid couldn’t have been any older than five…possibly younger. His tousled light blonde hair and wide-eyed expression made it hard to tell. He was certainly much smaller than his friends, both in height and body mass. But there was something else…something there that was hidden…

Running his tongue over his lips, the dark-haired youth stood quickly, shoving his hands deep into his coat pockets and starting down the nearest sidewalk at a brisk pace. Several joggers gave him nasty looks as they dodged to miss him before continuing on with their run. He didn’t look back. Didn’t look anywhere but the ground before his feet.

He’d finally found what he’d been looking for…

* * *

Ten years later…

Music pounded against the concrete walls, rattling the poster pinned there with tape and drowning out the slurred conversations of the packed bodies in the basement. Somewhere in the crowded room a television shouted out the score of a college football game, but the announcers words fell upon deaf ears as the partygoers turned to the makeshift dance floor. Sweating bodies heaved and pulsed in time with the beat, labored breaths reeking with alcohol as they spun and twisted in the half-life.

Saint pressed his knees closer together in an attempt to make more room on the already jam-packed couch as another teen collapsed onto the sofa. His shoulder pressed uncomfortably against his boyfriends, causing his muscles to ache and cramp. Sensing his discomfort, Christopher shifted until his arm draped across Saint’s slender shoulders, giving him more room.

Grateful, Saint brushed a strand of snow-white hair from his eyes and turned to smile at the older boy, his shy thanks swallowed by the music. Christopher silently held out his red-plastic cup, a muted offer for a drink. Saint shook his head despite his parched throat; he knew the punch was spiked with vodka…or, moreover, the vodka was spike with punch. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out.

Christopher set the cup down on the stained coffee table set in front of the couch and tugged Saint closer, pressing his lips against the younger boy’s ear so his words could be heard. “Come on, Saint! Don’t be such a drag, okay? Have a drink or two, it’s not gonna kill ya.” Saint shifted away from his much older boyfriends grasp, smelling the alcohol on his breath clearly.

Christopher snorted and grabbed his drink, hardly noticing the discarded cigarette butt floating on the surface as he swallowed heavily. Saint licked his lips and turned away, his eyes catching a group of boys standing around the punch bowl not far away. He recognized a few of them from his school, but their names evaded his thoughts. They were standing around an obviously under-aged classman with perky lips and flowing hair; her expression alone was enough to tell that she wasn’t used to hanging out with a crowd like this.

Drowsy and distracted from the thick atmosphere of the party, Saint’s eyes slid away from the harassed girl to the back of the room…where a shadow stood apart from the others. He looked away quickly, a cold sweat slicking the back of his neck as a pair of pale blue eyes locked onto him, rimmed with dark hair and pale skin. Unconsciously, Saint leaned into Christopher’s chest, keeping his eyes locked on the floor.

In seconds, the older boy’s lips were at his ear, his burning tongue tracing a small arc along the exposed skin, “Hey…do you want to leave? We can go back to my place, just you and me, right?” His hand trailed along Saint’s thigh, stroking the denim of his jeans seductively as he chuckled in his ear.

Saint swallowed hard and stood up, teetering slightly as he stumbled away from the couch, a hot burn creeping up his neck. “Hey!” Christopher shouted, his fingers brushing Saint’s jacket as he made a snatch for the younger boy, “Where are you going? We just got here!” Saint didn’t bother answering as he pushed his way across the room, wanting more than anything to get out of the crowded basement.

The tattered screen door slammed shut behind him as Saint climbed the crumbling brick stairs out of the basement apartment; pulling his jacket around his shoulders tightly against the cold of the night. The cool air felt refreshing against his burning skin, a soft breeze combing the smell of cheap beer and cigarette smoke from his hair and clothes. Ducking his head against the dark, Saint dutifully started walking.

He felt bad for leaving Christopher alone, but he’d been in situations where his boyfriend was drunk before and they usually didn’t end well. Not that Christopher was a bad person…he was just a bad drunk. Those types of predicaments usually ended in Saint being yelled at or hit, though never hard enough to leave a bruise. But the worst so far had ended in Saint loosing his virginity under Christopher’s demanding wants…some cheap hotel in a run down neighborhood.

Saint glanced up at the subway entrance looming before him, surprised that it had come so quickly. He descended the stained concrete steps feeling a little disappointed; he had been enjoying the walk alone and wasn’t looking forward to the long ride in a packed subway car. He waited silently with a dozen other people on the platform, his hand buried deep in his pockets as he kept his eyes on the ground.

A group of kids about his age were playing noisily with a handheld television on the far side of the platform, shouting and hollering as the scores from the same football game at the party were relayed back and forth. Saint glanced up longingly, pressing his lips tightly together as his chest twisted just a bit. He was smaller than the other boys…noticeably so. Shorter by several inches and didn’t hold much muscle to boast. His clothes were worn and second-hand, worn first by a family who donated and then by his older brother Paul until they were given to him.

Saint shrunk back as the group jostled passed him, stepping up to the yellow line as the subway shrieked into the platform. He waited until most had filed on before standing in line himself. No matter how much he wished it…he could never really be like them. The ticket-taker took his money and waved him on with a tired smile.

Every graffiti-covered seat was filled, leaving Saint to stand in the isle as the subway rolled on. His feet pulsed in time with his heart, begging to be given a rest from the long walk from the party. Saint ignored the pain in his legs and the urge for sleep in the back of his mind, licking his parched lips as he stared straight ahead.

“Young man?”

Saint glanced down, smiling shyly at the older lady sitting a few feet away from him. She grinned back and scooted over, revealing the small space between her and the subway wall, “There’s space here if you want to sit.” With a relieved sigh, Saint slid into the seat and nodded his thanks. The lady patted his knee and grinned back before retuning to the crossword held in her hand.

Saint looked away, scanning the crowd in search of an empty wall he could stare at until the ride was over. Instead, his eyes found that same face…those same lips…that same stare…aged and unyielding in the dim light of the subway car. The same youth that had been standing at behind the punch bowl at the party, shrouded in shadows away from prying eyes.

Saint froze, finding it very difficult to look away as the visibly older boy slowly titled his head, his relentless gaze never breaking. He had a kind face…smooth and undisturbed like the full moon on a clear night. Clean-cut black hair rimmed the stranger’s features like an ebony halo, partially hiding the silver stud hanging loosely from his ear. His powder blue eyes were speckled with hints of navy and green, spiraling down into solid black pupils that swallowed the light…everything.

Everything…

Suddenly the tram began to shrink, growing black around the edges as the noises faded and disappeared. Saint swallowed hard, his lips cracking as the subtle taste of blood filled his mouth, spilling down his throat and across his tongue. The old lady sitting next to him glanced up, her eyes widening as she too was sucked away.

All of it was gone…just like that. And the last to fade was that black-haired stranger, an odd look in his striking eyes. His slender fingers rose to touch at his pale lips, running across the very spot where Saint’s lips were smudged with his own blood. Saint watched him until it all went black…and he promptly passed out.