Seahorse
Seahorse
By Mushroom
A/N: For himitsu_no_hime.
Seahorse
They fell in love by accident on their last year of college, while being swamped by theses and projects and the occasional sadistic professor who gave out tests four times a week-accident meaning that it just wasn’t supposed to happen. Not when they were completely stressed out, not when their eye bags were as huge as halved watermelons and not when they were both distinctly, entirely, obviously male.
But it happened, nonetheless, and it certainly brought many problems.
Cameron, for one, had little to no sleep. He spent several hours chatting with his boyfriend on the phone-like some bloody girl-about virtually anything: favourites, video games, sports, homework, professors, you name it. Sometimes, when they were feeling particularly whacked, they would talk about love.
Love wasn’t a joyous topic, not really. First there was the never-ending ‘will this last forever’ question, whispered in gentle horror after a predominantly mushy exchange. It ruined moods, naturally, especially when Mark was just about to stroke himself (yes, masturbation succeeded sweet-nothings; these are hormonal men I’m talking about). Mark was the horny one, always pushing Cameron towards empty corridors or rooms and scaring away the ghosts with his feverish moaning. His lover was a sensitive soul, seemingly too young for his age, but was not without his own secret kinks and fetishes. It was Cameron who invented the ‘Let’s Play In The Room Beside The Faculty Lounge’ game, one they both cherished ‘til the orgasmic end.
It was never only about sex, though. They truly loved each other, as far as the definition of love goes, even if the two boys fought (verbally and physically) at least once a week, maybe to keep the passion going. They had dates, of course; playing in the arcade and watching movies after a stressful Finals week was their routine, as well as exploring mountains and caverns and other fresh terrain during the holidays. Like normal, adventurous men would.
Their love story was pretty simple, you know. Mark and Cameron became classmates for only one semester but they clicked in an instant, and love was inevitable after that. They just couldn’t remain friends: Cameron was too cute for Mark, and Mark was too charming. Flirting was unavoidable, but at least they had the decency not to do it in public. I think.
So nobody knew. Several people thought Cameron rather effeminate, but they never voiced their suspicions out loud, for fear of being wrong. They were, forever, best friends.
It was December morning when Mark decided to open The Annoying Topic. Mark’s parents were in some business trip, so they had the whole house (or mansion, as Cameron put it), to themselves. Well, the maids in their frilly uniforms were there, and a few drivers, but the lovers were in one of the spare bedrooms, having sex as quietly as they could. Which never worked, but hey. They tried.
“I suspect the house help knows,” said Mark, rubbing his nose on Cameron’s shoulder. “The maids were giving you funny looks a while ago.”
“I just went down to get some popcorn,” said Cameron. “I didn’t know the hickeys were in full view. Hand me the remote control, will you?”
“Love bites,” Mark corrected as he changed the channel himself, settling for a late-night comedy show. “You call them love bites, because we’re in love.”
“Whatever,” Cameron disentangled himself from Mark’s possessive arms and reached for the popcorn bowl. “Idiot.”
“Come back here.” There was a hearty giggle from Cameron as Mark tugged wildly at his arm, urging him to fall back to the bed. Mark sat up as the blanket dropped down to his waist, circled his arms around his boyfriend, and promptly pinched a nipple.
“MARK!”
“Come on, lie down,” Mark said, pressing his lips on Cameron’s bare back. “Wanna talk.”
“Enough talking, m’hungry.”
“Pleeeaaaase?”
You see, even if Mark dominated the bedroom with his insistent hip-thrusting and topping, he could still whine and plead like a little boy. So Cameron sighed and snuggled with Mark under the covers like the good college student that he was.
“This isn’t a serious thing, is it?” There was a hint of panic in Cameron’s voice, and maybe repressed hysteria. Maybe.
“Depends,” By the tone of Mark’s voice however, it seemed so.
“Well, go on. Fire away.”
“I don’t have to tell you. It’s about the same thing.”
“Oh, fuck.” Cameron covered his face with his hands and groaned loudly.
“Well, are we?” Mark sat up and covered Cameron’s body with his, trembling hands on both sides of the bed. He looked deep into his eyes and inhaled. “Are we finally going to come out? Seeing as the household knows. And we’re about to graduate in a few months’ time. We’re going to be independent now.”
“Dun wanna be independent,” Cameron moaned, trying to break free because he was just too young, too scared, but Mark lowered his face and they were kissing, groping, sucking face in desperation. A few minutes passed, and Mark lifted his chin and caressed his boyfriend’s cheek.
“I can’t, I just can’t. I’m sorry,” Cameron whispered. “Let’s wait for a while?”
“I can’t deny this erection any longer!”
“Mark, Mark. Mark.” He kissed his boyfriend again, feeling a bit teary-eyed and silly all at once. “Calm down.”
“I’m going to tell my parents.”
“NO!”
“Just you wait. I’m going to tell them. Sure, my dad will go crazy, he might even shoot something, or he’ll banish me forever, but I don’t care. My mum adores me. She’ll send some cash even if I’m out of the house, positive! Then I’ll get work, and everything will be perfect, love. I can just picture it.” His erection was there, right there, and Cameron tried hard not to grind against the man above him, because. It was an important conversation.
But it was there. He was right. They cannot deny their attraction-love for each other. It was evident. It was forever.
“Come on, Cameron…do it for me?” An insistent thrust. “Please?”
“Y-you fucking piece of a-fine. But if my mom kills herself, I’m going to kill you.” Cameron pulled Mark towards him, smashing their bodies together, and they talked with moans and groans and irregular breathing, not really caring that yes, they were both definitely going to hell.
***
And hell it was. Right after their graduation Mark was sent out of the mansion, designer clothing and all, and his father (an upright businessman, with values and shit like that) was purple in the face as he shouted and beat his son up. There were blood and saliva and piss, and some broken bones, but Mark was the picture of complete happiness. I’m not shitting you, not at all.
Mark’s mother bawled passionately during the whole fiasco, then whispered everything’s going to be all right, see, you’ve still got your credit cards. So Mark (the prodigal son, the rebel, the sonofabitch) brought all his belongings with him-nothing much, just some clothes and video games and a Ducati-then drove off to collect his boyfriend.
It was more peaceful in Cameron’s humble abode; his father looked helpless and confused and in the brink of asking ‘why’ though he couldn’t, while his mother just stood there like an exhibit in a French museum, her expression, I don’t know…really priceless. ‘Twas like silence was punching her stomach, and the same thing was spilling out her mouth.
Then they heard the sound of a motorcycle, and Cameron flung the door open only to be greeted with a really intense kiss, which was just about to become more intense until Cameron realized that he had goddamn parents and pushed his boyfriend back. It was all very romantic, like a chick flick. Only gay.
Mark’s face was bleeding, but he looked euphoric. “So, I’m here now. Hallo there, Mr. and Mrs. Cruz.” He looked at Cameron with an easy smile. “Coming?”
“Is that a Ducati?” Cameron’s mother found her voice from the depths of whatever.
“Yup. Sport 1000 S. Two-seater version. Like it?” Mark looked really sexy then, even with a gory face, and Cameron felt quite proud. “Bought it myself.”
“H-how?”
“With my lunch money. Starved for two weeks.”
“Really.” Cameron’s father was interested now; he even stepped forward with a warped, paternal smile.
Cameron held Mark’s arm, feeling relief at his warmth and solidity. “Mommy, Daddy, thanks for everything, really, but I guess it’s time-“
“Want to ride with me? We can give it a spin.” Mark blurted out, but he was not looking at Cameron, much to his horror. His eyes were directed at Mrs. Cruz, who did her best impression of a shocked jester.
The next scene was a blur: Mrs. Cruz was seated right behind Mark, her apron still quite tied to her neck and waist, hair in a kitchen-bun, and then they zoomed off, leaving Cameron and his father in jumbled pieces.
They arrived an hour later, Mark looking smug and Mrs. Cruz, oh Mrs. Cruz, she was smiling and her hair was a mess but she was smiling.
“It was so fun!” She gushed, and Cameron looked at Mark with newfound wonder and admiration.
Mark smoked by the sidewalk while they had an emergency family meeting in the living room.
“He’s filthy rich, isn’t he?” Cameron’s father interrogated.
Cameron never thought about it. “Filthy is right. About the rich part…”
“Oh come on, I bet he is,” His mother stood up, then hugged her son tightly. Cameron felt awkward, as they weren’t really a ‘hugging’ sort of family, but patted her on the back.
“I’ve always supported you, my dear son. Your happiness is our first priority, after all. Are you happy?”
“I’m really, really happy with Mark, Mommy,” answered Cameron. “I really am.”
“I know. I can see it. He has a Ducati, for christ’s sake. Just don’t forget us, hmm?”
So Mrs. Cruz invited Mark for dinner and they had a great time and they gave him his blessing and it was simple, too fucking simple, that Cameron couldn’t help but cry during dinnertime.
***
They had a normal relationship. Normal as in they still fought regularly; hell, they even broke up, fooled around, then ended up on the same bed together after a year. Hearts were broken, mended, tied with red string, yet everything was what Mark predicted. Perfectly twisted.
Yet there was something. Something that made Mark’s heart twinge. Something wasn’t missing, because he was sure that Cameron was all he needed. Something wasn’t wrong, because Cameron made everything seem so right (even if he pushed him awake every three o’ fucking clock in the morning for exercises). He had a stable job as a manager, earned lots of money, had regular, mind-blowing sex, and got rid of his bad drinking problem (no more colourful bottles of alcohol scattered on the condo floor like some fucked-up Picasso thing).
Let me describe their condo unit. It’s really cool, and that's one big shit of an understatement. It was on the topmost floor of the building, because Mark was a rich bastard like that. There’s a porch, with a mini-garden, where Cameron liked to read and pretend he’s cool by looking through the telescope at nights. There was the shiny kitchen with some burnt pots and pans, the dining table (defiled repeatedly by the sex-crazed couple), and the living room with a spanking-new, flat-screen TV and speakers as huge as a cathedral's stained-glass windows. Cameron was an interior designer, and he preferred everything post-modern, so the place was practically bare. No paintings of apples and 'The Last Supper' stuff. Mark, who suffered from horror vacui, had problems with this, so there was another room specifically destined to be the storage room of Mark’s strange collections, like money. Yes, he collected money.
The wealthy bastard.
Then there was the master’s bedroom, and the important element was the bed, of course. It was huge and soft and comfortable, so when you jump on it you totally bounce (the lovers themselves jumped on their bed one too many times). Cameron had an uncanny obsession with comforters, and would scour the department stores for the perfect ones, with vertical stripes or floral print, as long as they were warm and cosy, because the air-conditioning was pretty cruel.
Back to Mark’s problem. He found himself absorbed in the Internet and its wonders, like a billion other people, and discovered necessities like Google.
“The Internet again,” Cameron said softly one evening. “What’re you looking for?”
“I don’t really know,” said Mark helplessly. “I was kinda hoping Google would tell me.”
“I’m right here.” Cameron sat on his lap and pressed their foreheads together, fingers playing with the strands of Mark’s dark hair. “I’m right here, baby.”
Cameron was what he needed, indeed; right after their lovemaking, Mark realized he didn’t need something else…he just needed one more.
***
Cameron felt the twinge, too. He was really annoyed by it, but it was there. Annoying.
The storage room annoyed him, for some reason (Cameron was easily annoyed). For one thing, it was supposed to be a library, or a study room. Not a mess. Mark felt that his collection of miniature cars was of huge importance, but they were in disarray. If there was one thing that was unsexy about his partner, it was his disorderliness. Sure, Mark took care of his appearance, he was damn handsome and quite the metrosexual--but the toys were everywhere.
He felt that the room had other use. Okay, so maybe they didn’t need another library, because Cameron already hid their vast compilation of erotic books in huge drawers. They already had a guest room, exclusively for people who were brave enough to stand the swearing and sex at nights.
One time, Cameron’s mom came over. She wanted to prepare something special for the two lovers, since it was nearing their anniversary, and she dearly missed her son as well. Mrs. Cruz eyed the unit in approval, pleased that her son was living life the best way possible.
“Mommy, I think this room needs a major overhaul.” Cameron led her to the aforementioned Room of Annoyance. “You think?”
His mother frowned. “There’s something missing.”
“I know, right?”
“Posters.”
“What?”
“Posters. I can just imagine posters decorating the walls. And curtains with those cute cartoon characters from Disney. I don’t know. But the cars and the other toys are okay.”
“What-even the action figures?”
“It’s a refreshing change, isn’t it? All the other rooms look empty.” His mother picked up a toy motorbike and grinned, probably remembering wonderful times.
Cameron made a face. “Mom, you’re indulging him. And he’s already a spoiled little bitch.”
“These might be of use someday. Besides, I like spoiling Mark, the wonderful man.” His mother replied gently, to which Cameron snorted in reply.
Still, he couldn’t help but stare at the room sometimes. It gave him weird impulses, like suddenly buying Cinderella curtains the next day.
***
The twinge scared them. Mark became more and more obsessed with the Internet, ever since he hooked up with Wikipedia, and Cameron made it his life’s purpose to fix the storage room, to make it breathable and liveable and sunny.
One fine morning, seven years since the day they decided to live and take a shit under the same roof, Mark had an epiphany.
Actually, he had a lot of epiphanies, but this one stood out among the rest.
So he took out all his important things, things that acknowledged his complicated existence: files, documents, important papers that were meant to be inserted in dusty folders and envelopes and kept in those hard-to-reach steel cabinets. He placed the documents on the keyboard of his laptop and stared at the dark letters.
Cue Cameron carrying a tray of juice and sandwiches. “Eew. Something stinks.” He remarked, then blinked.
“What’re those?”
“Exactly what they look like.”
“Hold on…birth certificate. Physical and medical evaluation?”
“Checked by a licensed physician, yes.”
“Certificate of Employment…Statement of Assets and Liabilities…”
“Oh yeah, we need the latest Income Tax Return. God, this means lining up. I hate lining up. Can you do it for me? You always do.”
Cameron almost dropped the tray, but Mark fortunately saved it from harm and placed it on the chair beside him. “Tuna?”
“Yes, tuna, but the birth certificate and the other…” Cameron waved his hands, “…Things?”
“Tuna! My favourite! And yes, the birth certificate.”
“And what’re we going to do with them?”
He wasn’t sure if he was seeing things correctly, but it seemed like Mark was embarrassed. If the blush meant something significant. “You ever thought of…” He started, then stopped.
“Oh god. Oh god, oh god,” Cameron instinctively sat on his boyfriend’s lap, circled his arms ‘round his neck, and grinned widely. “Sweetheart. Baby. Dearie. Love. My love.”
“You’re acting strange again,” said Mark, which he regretted immediately because being kissed like there was no tomorrow was, of course, an accepted gesture.
Cameron drew back from the kiss, flushed and happy. “I don’t know what to say…only that yes, of course I’ll marry you, you fucking asshole. So you’ve been researching? So cute. I love you so much, Mark!”
Mark looked at him as if he were, well, nuts. “Are you an idiot? We can’t get married! Not in this country.”
Instant depression. “What?”
“I know, remember when we took up Political Science one semes-”
“No, I meant, what, you weren’t about to propose to me?”
Mark burst out laughing. “What? Hell no!”
The tray flew, leaving juice on the screen and Mark’s flabbergasted expression.
“And in the future, I actually thought…I thought…the storage room…”
And Cameron ran towards the bedroom, screaming like a madman, and fuck it. Mark would kill himself over and over, like twenty gajillion fucking times if those were actually tears running down his boyfriend’s face.
***
Mark sighed. “Can I come in now?”
“I FUCKING HATE YOU AND GO AWAY.”
Another sigh escaped his lips, but Mark pushed the door open, anyway. There were tattered pieces of paper all over their bed and the floor, ripped by an extremely humiliated Cameron, and some of them even had murderous phrases, like Screw You and Die You Filthy Maggot and other inappropriate words for Mark’s cute boyfriend. So Mark crawled over to Cameron and embraced him, raining kisses down his bowed head. He even tried tickling, which was an immediate success, because Cameron pushed his head back and laughed, entertaining more breathy kisses on his neck.
“Ah, Mark, ah, no fair.”
Mark stopped tickling and rested his head on Cameron’s shoulder.
“Yes, well, you weren’t very fair with me either, since you just ran away without even allowing me to say that I’m a fucker and I’m really, really sorry…”
“Yes, you’re a fucker, Mark. But I love you. I just took things too seriously, I guess. I keep on forgetting that this world isn’t just for us. I mean, I’m lucky enough that my parents were cool with it. I was selfish.” Cameron cupped Mark’s cheeks with his palms and urged him to look into his eyes. “I’m sorry, too.”
“Will you marry me, Cameron?”
“It doesn’t work anymore, actually.”
“Yeah, I guess it doesn’t.” Mark looked a bit forlorn, so Cameron proceeded to lick his lover’s lips to cheer him up.
Once Cameron blew on his lover’s lips, creating a cool, prickling sensation, Mark’s eyes lit up. “Hey, we’re practically married, anyway! Everybody says so. We fight all the time. We even bicker about the groceries.”
“That’s because you grab the useless stuff and whine inappropriately when the line’s really wrong.” Cameron teased. “Wealthy bastard.”
Mark shot him a dirty look. “Bubblegum tape isn’t useless. They’re handy. And delicious. Plus, you know I hate lining up.”
“I’m sure. And yes, we’re so definitely married. I cook and clean and you bum around, you jerk. So,” Cameron sat up straight and stared into Mark’s eyes. “What were the documents all about? What were you trying to tell me?”
Mark grew silent, and only looked up when Cameron shook his head. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something too, Mark. But I was scared. I was so fucking scared and excited and…”
“Yeah, that’s what I’ve been feeling, too. And it wasn’t about marriage, because I don’t need a fucking marriage certificate to show the world that, well, you know.” He was starting to become really mushy, which usually led to erotic encounters, but there was a serious tone in his voice, indicating that the sex could wait for later.
“I’ve been wanting…” Cameron began.
And they actually talked about it.
After their conversation, Mark and Cameron engaged in an Eskimo kiss, both men smiling awkwardly while their shoulders shook with excitement and fear. Mark thought of the preparations, the bank and employment certificates, full attendance in seminars and hearings and scary interviews, but he was willing to take them all-he could imagine himself attending the court hearing, looking really cool with his formal attire and cocky grin. Cameron, on the other hand, envisioned a little bed, with colourful prints of aeroplanes and flying saucers and stars (of course it was always about the comforters), the Disney-themed curtains, the posters on the wall featuring PC games and science-fiction films, and the cars, Mark’s cars, they were actually very useful, perfect for stubby little fingers.
“D’you think we can pull this off?” Cameron whispered. “There’s no turning back. No stopping. I’m just aching for it, yet I hope it isn’t just a temporary urge.”
“You do know that we’re required to be Christians with values and good moral character, right? They’ll be checking.”
They snorted in unison.
“Oh, hell. I could just leave the condo unit during visits…”
Mark shook his head, biting his lip. “Now that’s a problem…”
“Sshhhh.” Cameron kissed Mark’s forehead and drew him closer. “This is not going to be a problem. This will be something amazing.”
“Will I be a good…?”
“Yes, you’ll be great, even.”
“You too, Cameron,” Mark said softly. “You too.”
I’m happy to say that the two had a wonderful night that day, wrapped in each other’s naked, sweaty bodies, turning another page slowly-very slowly, so as not to shock themselves. They both dreamt of the number two, swirling round and round amongst pale blue clouds, but there was one more coming, adding up, and everything became balanced and complete. Oh, yes! I almost forgot. There were also stars and planets in their dreams; sexless, faceless heavenly bodies, bursting and giving birth to new ones, forming a sea of creatures not linked by blood-but by soul!
END
By Mushroom
A/N: For himitsu_no_hime.
Seahorse
They fell in love by accident on their last year of college, while being swamped by theses and projects and the occasional sadistic professor who gave out tests four times a week-accident meaning that it just wasn’t supposed to happen. Not when they were completely stressed out, not when their eye bags were as huge as halved watermelons and not when they were both distinctly, entirely, obviously male.
But it happened, nonetheless, and it certainly brought many problems.
Cameron, for one, had little to no sleep. He spent several hours chatting with his boyfriend on the phone-like some bloody girl-about virtually anything: favourites, video games, sports, homework, professors, you name it. Sometimes, when they were feeling particularly whacked, they would talk about love.
Love wasn’t a joyous topic, not really. First there was the never-ending ‘will this last forever’ question, whispered in gentle horror after a predominantly mushy exchange. It ruined moods, naturally, especially when Mark was just about to stroke himself (yes, masturbation succeeded sweet-nothings; these are hormonal men I’m talking about). Mark was the horny one, always pushing Cameron towards empty corridors or rooms and scaring away the ghosts with his feverish moaning. His lover was a sensitive soul, seemingly too young for his age, but was not without his own secret kinks and fetishes. It was Cameron who invented the ‘Let’s Play In The Room Beside The Faculty Lounge’ game, one they both cherished ‘til the orgasmic end.
It was never only about sex, though. They truly loved each other, as far as the definition of love goes, even if the two boys fought (verbally and physically) at least once a week, maybe to keep the passion going. They had dates, of course; playing in the arcade and watching movies after a stressful Finals week was their routine, as well as exploring mountains and caverns and other fresh terrain during the holidays. Like normal, adventurous men would.
Their love story was pretty simple, you know. Mark and Cameron became classmates for only one semester but they clicked in an instant, and love was inevitable after that. They just couldn’t remain friends: Cameron was too cute for Mark, and Mark was too charming. Flirting was unavoidable, but at least they had the decency not to do it in public. I think.
So nobody knew. Several people thought Cameron rather effeminate, but they never voiced their suspicions out loud, for fear of being wrong. They were, forever, best friends.
It was December morning when Mark decided to open The Annoying Topic. Mark’s parents were in some business trip, so they had the whole house (or mansion, as Cameron put it), to themselves. Well, the maids in their frilly uniforms were there, and a few drivers, but the lovers were in one of the spare bedrooms, having sex as quietly as they could. Which never worked, but hey. They tried.
“I suspect the house help knows,” said Mark, rubbing his nose on Cameron’s shoulder. “The maids were giving you funny looks a while ago.”
“I just went down to get some popcorn,” said Cameron. “I didn’t know the hickeys were in full view. Hand me the remote control, will you?”
“Love bites,” Mark corrected as he changed the channel himself, settling for a late-night comedy show. “You call them love bites, because we’re in love.”
“Whatever,” Cameron disentangled himself from Mark’s possessive arms and reached for the popcorn bowl. “Idiot.”
“Come back here.” There was a hearty giggle from Cameron as Mark tugged wildly at his arm, urging him to fall back to the bed. Mark sat up as the blanket dropped down to his waist, circled his arms around his boyfriend, and promptly pinched a nipple.
“MARK!”
“Come on, lie down,” Mark said, pressing his lips on Cameron’s bare back. “Wanna talk.”
“Enough talking, m’hungry.”
“Pleeeaaaase?”
You see, even if Mark dominated the bedroom with his insistent hip-thrusting and topping, he could still whine and plead like a little boy. So Cameron sighed and snuggled with Mark under the covers like the good college student that he was.
“This isn’t a serious thing, is it?” There was a hint of panic in Cameron’s voice, and maybe repressed hysteria. Maybe.
“Depends,” By the tone of Mark’s voice however, it seemed so.
“Well, go on. Fire away.”
“I don’t have to tell you. It’s about the same thing.”
“Oh, fuck.” Cameron covered his face with his hands and groaned loudly.
“Well, are we?” Mark sat up and covered Cameron’s body with his, trembling hands on both sides of the bed. He looked deep into his eyes and inhaled. “Are we finally going to come out? Seeing as the household knows. And we’re about to graduate in a few months’ time. We’re going to be independent now.”
“Dun wanna be independent,” Cameron moaned, trying to break free because he was just too young, too scared, but Mark lowered his face and they were kissing, groping, sucking face in desperation. A few minutes passed, and Mark lifted his chin and caressed his boyfriend’s cheek.
“I can’t, I just can’t. I’m sorry,” Cameron whispered. “Let’s wait for a while?”
“I can’t deny this erection any longer!”
“Mark, Mark. Mark.” He kissed his boyfriend again, feeling a bit teary-eyed and silly all at once. “Calm down.”
“I’m going to tell my parents.”
“NO!”
“Just you wait. I’m going to tell them. Sure, my dad will go crazy, he might even shoot something, or he’ll banish me forever, but I don’t care. My mum adores me. She’ll send some cash even if I’m out of the house, positive! Then I’ll get work, and everything will be perfect, love. I can just picture it.” His erection was there, right there, and Cameron tried hard not to grind against the man above him, because. It was an important conversation.
But it was there. He was right. They cannot deny their attraction-love for each other. It was evident. It was forever.
“Come on, Cameron…do it for me?” An insistent thrust. “Please?”
“Y-you fucking piece of a-fine. But if my mom kills herself, I’m going to kill you.” Cameron pulled Mark towards him, smashing their bodies together, and they talked with moans and groans and irregular breathing, not really caring that yes, they were both definitely going to hell.
***
And hell it was. Right after their graduation Mark was sent out of the mansion, designer clothing and all, and his father (an upright businessman, with values and shit like that) was purple in the face as he shouted and beat his son up. There were blood and saliva and piss, and some broken bones, but Mark was the picture of complete happiness. I’m not shitting you, not at all.
Mark’s mother bawled passionately during the whole fiasco, then whispered everything’s going to be all right, see, you’ve still got your credit cards. So Mark (the prodigal son, the rebel, the sonofabitch) brought all his belongings with him-nothing much, just some clothes and video games and a Ducati-then drove off to collect his boyfriend.
It was more peaceful in Cameron’s humble abode; his father looked helpless and confused and in the brink of asking ‘why’ though he couldn’t, while his mother just stood there like an exhibit in a French museum, her expression, I don’t know…really priceless. ‘Twas like silence was punching her stomach, and the same thing was spilling out her mouth.
Then they heard the sound of a motorcycle, and Cameron flung the door open only to be greeted with a really intense kiss, which was just about to become more intense until Cameron realized that he had goddamn parents and pushed his boyfriend back. It was all very romantic, like a chick flick. Only gay.
Mark’s face was bleeding, but he looked euphoric. “So, I’m here now. Hallo there, Mr. and Mrs. Cruz.” He looked at Cameron with an easy smile. “Coming?”
“Is that a Ducati?” Cameron’s mother found her voice from the depths of whatever.
“Yup. Sport 1000 S. Two-seater version. Like it?” Mark looked really sexy then, even with a gory face, and Cameron felt quite proud. “Bought it myself.”
“H-how?”
“With my lunch money. Starved for two weeks.”
“Really.” Cameron’s father was interested now; he even stepped forward with a warped, paternal smile.
Cameron held Mark’s arm, feeling relief at his warmth and solidity. “Mommy, Daddy, thanks for everything, really, but I guess it’s time-“
“Want to ride with me? We can give it a spin.” Mark blurted out, but he was not looking at Cameron, much to his horror. His eyes were directed at Mrs. Cruz, who did her best impression of a shocked jester.
The next scene was a blur: Mrs. Cruz was seated right behind Mark, her apron still quite tied to her neck and waist, hair in a kitchen-bun, and then they zoomed off, leaving Cameron and his father in jumbled pieces.
They arrived an hour later, Mark looking smug and Mrs. Cruz, oh Mrs. Cruz, she was smiling and her hair was a mess but she was smiling.
“It was so fun!” She gushed, and Cameron looked at Mark with newfound wonder and admiration.
Mark smoked by the sidewalk while they had an emergency family meeting in the living room.
“He’s filthy rich, isn’t he?” Cameron’s father interrogated.
Cameron never thought about it. “Filthy is right. About the rich part…”
“Oh come on, I bet he is,” His mother stood up, then hugged her son tightly. Cameron felt awkward, as they weren’t really a ‘hugging’ sort of family, but patted her on the back.
“I’ve always supported you, my dear son. Your happiness is our first priority, after all. Are you happy?”
“I’m really, really happy with Mark, Mommy,” answered Cameron. “I really am.”
“I know. I can see it. He has a Ducati, for christ’s sake. Just don’t forget us, hmm?”
So Mrs. Cruz invited Mark for dinner and they had a great time and they gave him his blessing and it was simple, too fucking simple, that Cameron couldn’t help but cry during dinnertime.
***
They had a normal relationship. Normal as in they still fought regularly; hell, they even broke up, fooled around, then ended up on the same bed together after a year. Hearts were broken, mended, tied with red string, yet everything was what Mark predicted. Perfectly twisted.
Yet there was something. Something that made Mark’s heart twinge. Something wasn’t missing, because he was sure that Cameron was all he needed. Something wasn’t wrong, because Cameron made everything seem so right (even if he pushed him awake every three o’ fucking clock in the morning for exercises). He had a stable job as a manager, earned lots of money, had regular, mind-blowing sex, and got rid of his bad drinking problem (no more colourful bottles of alcohol scattered on the condo floor like some fucked-up Picasso thing).
Let me describe their condo unit. It’s really cool, and that's one big shit of an understatement. It was on the topmost floor of the building, because Mark was a rich bastard like that. There’s a porch, with a mini-garden, where Cameron liked to read and pretend he’s cool by looking through the telescope at nights. There was the shiny kitchen with some burnt pots and pans, the dining table (defiled repeatedly by the sex-crazed couple), and the living room with a spanking-new, flat-screen TV and speakers as huge as a cathedral's stained-glass windows. Cameron was an interior designer, and he preferred everything post-modern, so the place was practically bare. No paintings of apples and 'The Last Supper' stuff. Mark, who suffered from horror vacui, had problems with this, so there was another room specifically destined to be the storage room of Mark’s strange collections, like money. Yes, he collected money.
The wealthy bastard.
Then there was the master’s bedroom, and the important element was the bed, of course. It was huge and soft and comfortable, so when you jump on it you totally bounce (the lovers themselves jumped on their bed one too many times). Cameron had an uncanny obsession with comforters, and would scour the department stores for the perfect ones, with vertical stripes or floral print, as long as they were warm and cosy, because the air-conditioning was pretty cruel.
Back to Mark’s problem. He found himself absorbed in the Internet and its wonders, like a billion other people, and discovered necessities like Google.
“The Internet again,” Cameron said softly one evening. “What’re you looking for?”
“I don’t really know,” said Mark helplessly. “I was kinda hoping Google would tell me.”
“I’m right here.” Cameron sat on his lap and pressed their foreheads together, fingers playing with the strands of Mark’s dark hair. “I’m right here, baby.”
Cameron was what he needed, indeed; right after their lovemaking, Mark realized he didn’t need something else…he just needed one more.
***
Cameron felt the twinge, too. He was really annoyed by it, but it was there. Annoying.
The storage room annoyed him, for some reason (Cameron was easily annoyed). For one thing, it was supposed to be a library, or a study room. Not a mess. Mark felt that his collection of miniature cars was of huge importance, but they were in disarray. If there was one thing that was unsexy about his partner, it was his disorderliness. Sure, Mark took care of his appearance, he was damn handsome and quite the metrosexual--but the toys were everywhere.
He felt that the room had other use. Okay, so maybe they didn’t need another library, because Cameron already hid their vast compilation of erotic books in huge drawers. They already had a guest room, exclusively for people who were brave enough to stand the swearing and sex at nights.
One time, Cameron’s mom came over. She wanted to prepare something special for the two lovers, since it was nearing their anniversary, and she dearly missed her son as well. Mrs. Cruz eyed the unit in approval, pleased that her son was living life the best way possible.
“Mommy, I think this room needs a major overhaul.” Cameron led her to the aforementioned Room of Annoyance. “You think?”
His mother frowned. “There’s something missing.”
“I know, right?”
“Posters.”
“What?”
“Posters. I can just imagine posters decorating the walls. And curtains with those cute cartoon characters from Disney. I don’t know. But the cars and the other toys are okay.”
“What-even the action figures?”
“It’s a refreshing change, isn’t it? All the other rooms look empty.” His mother picked up a toy motorbike and grinned, probably remembering wonderful times.
Cameron made a face. “Mom, you’re indulging him. And he’s already a spoiled little bitch.”
“These might be of use someday. Besides, I like spoiling Mark, the wonderful man.” His mother replied gently, to which Cameron snorted in reply.
Still, he couldn’t help but stare at the room sometimes. It gave him weird impulses, like suddenly buying Cinderella curtains the next day.
***
The twinge scared them. Mark became more and more obsessed with the Internet, ever since he hooked up with Wikipedia, and Cameron made it his life’s purpose to fix the storage room, to make it breathable and liveable and sunny.
One fine morning, seven years since the day they decided to live and take a shit under the same roof, Mark had an epiphany.
Actually, he had a lot of epiphanies, but this one stood out among the rest.
So he took out all his important things, things that acknowledged his complicated existence: files, documents, important papers that were meant to be inserted in dusty folders and envelopes and kept in those hard-to-reach steel cabinets. He placed the documents on the keyboard of his laptop and stared at the dark letters.
Cue Cameron carrying a tray of juice and sandwiches. “Eew. Something stinks.” He remarked, then blinked.
“What’re those?”
“Exactly what they look like.”
“Hold on…birth certificate. Physical and medical evaluation?”
“Checked by a licensed physician, yes.”
“Certificate of Employment…Statement of Assets and Liabilities…”
“Oh yeah, we need the latest Income Tax Return. God, this means lining up. I hate lining up. Can you do it for me? You always do.”
Cameron almost dropped the tray, but Mark fortunately saved it from harm and placed it on the chair beside him. “Tuna?”
“Yes, tuna, but the birth certificate and the other…” Cameron waved his hands, “…Things?”
“Tuna! My favourite! And yes, the birth certificate.”
“And what’re we going to do with them?”
He wasn’t sure if he was seeing things correctly, but it seemed like Mark was embarrassed. If the blush meant something significant. “You ever thought of…” He started, then stopped.
“Oh god. Oh god, oh god,” Cameron instinctively sat on his boyfriend’s lap, circled his arms ‘round his neck, and grinned widely. “Sweetheart. Baby. Dearie. Love. My love.”
“You’re acting strange again,” said Mark, which he regretted immediately because being kissed like there was no tomorrow was, of course, an accepted gesture.
Cameron drew back from the kiss, flushed and happy. “I don’t know what to say…only that yes, of course I’ll marry you, you fucking asshole. So you’ve been researching? So cute. I love you so much, Mark!”
Mark looked at him as if he were, well, nuts. “Are you an idiot? We can’t get married! Not in this country.”
Instant depression. “What?”
“I know, remember when we took up Political Science one semes-”
“No, I meant, what, you weren’t about to propose to me?”
Mark burst out laughing. “What? Hell no!”
The tray flew, leaving juice on the screen and Mark’s flabbergasted expression.
“And in the future, I actually thought…I thought…the storage room…”
And Cameron ran towards the bedroom, screaming like a madman, and fuck it. Mark would kill himself over and over, like twenty gajillion fucking times if those were actually tears running down his boyfriend’s face.
***
Mark sighed. “Can I come in now?”
“I FUCKING HATE YOU AND GO AWAY.”
Another sigh escaped his lips, but Mark pushed the door open, anyway. There were tattered pieces of paper all over their bed and the floor, ripped by an extremely humiliated Cameron, and some of them even had murderous phrases, like Screw You and Die You Filthy Maggot and other inappropriate words for Mark’s cute boyfriend. So Mark crawled over to Cameron and embraced him, raining kisses down his bowed head. He even tried tickling, which was an immediate success, because Cameron pushed his head back and laughed, entertaining more breathy kisses on his neck.
“Ah, Mark, ah, no fair.”
Mark stopped tickling and rested his head on Cameron’s shoulder.
“Yes, well, you weren’t very fair with me either, since you just ran away without even allowing me to say that I’m a fucker and I’m really, really sorry…”
“Yes, you’re a fucker, Mark. But I love you. I just took things too seriously, I guess. I keep on forgetting that this world isn’t just for us. I mean, I’m lucky enough that my parents were cool with it. I was selfish.” Cameron cupped Mark’s cheeks with his palms and urged him to look into his eyes. “I’m sorry, too.”
“Will you marry me, Cameron?”
“It doesn’t work anymore, actually.”
“Yeah, I guess it doesn’t.” Mark looked a bit forlorn, so Cameron proceeded to lick his lover’s lips to cheer him up.
Once Cameron blew on his lover’s lips, creating a cool, prickling sensation, Mark’s eyes lit up. “Hey, we’re practically married, anyway! Everybody says so. We fight all the time. We even bicker about the groceries.”
“That’s because you grab the useless stuff and whine inappropriately when the line’s really wrong.” Cameron teased. “Wealthy bastard.”
Mark shot him a dirty look. “Bubblegum tape isn’t useless. They’re handy. And delicious. Plus, you know I hate lining up.”
“I’m sure. And yes, we’re so definitely married. I cook and clean and you bum around, you jerk. So,” Cameron sat up straight and stared into Mark’s eyes. “What were the documents all about? What were you trying to tell me?”
Mark grew silent, and only looked up when Cameron shook his head. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something too, Mark. But I was scared. I was so fucking scared and excited and…”
“Yeah, that’s what I’ve been feeling, too. And it wasn’t about marriage, because I don’t need a fucking marriage certificate to show the world that, well, you know.” He was starting to become really mushy, which usually led to erotic encounters, but there was a serious tone in his voice, indicating that the sex could wait for later.
“I’ve been wanting…” Cameron began.
And they actually talked about it.
After their conversation, Mark and Cameron engaged in an Eskimo kiss, both men smiling awkwardly while their shoulders shook with excitement and fear. Mark thought of the preparations, the bank and employment certificates, full attendance in seminars and hearings and scary interviews, but he was willing to take them all-he could imagine himself attending the court hearing, looking really cool with his formal attire and cocky grin. Cameron, on the other hand, envisioned a little bed, with colourful prints of aeroplanes and flying saucers and stars (of course it was always about the comforters), the Disney-themed curtains, the posters on the wall featuring PC games and science-fiction films, and the cars, Mark’s cars, they were actually very useful, perfect for stubby little fingers.
“D’you think we can pull this off?” Cameron whispered. “There’s no turning back. No stopping. I’m just aching for it, yet I hope it isn’t just a temporary urge.”
“You do know that we’re required to be Christians with values and good moral character, right? They’ll be checking.”
They snorted in unison.
“Oh, hell. I could just leave the condo unit during visits…”
Mark shook his head, biting his lip. “Now that’s a problem…”
“Sshhhh.” Cameron kissed Mark’s forehead and drew him closer. “This is not going to be a problem. This will be something amazing.”
“Will I be a good…?”
“Yes, you’ll be great, even.”
“You too, Cameron,” Mark said softly. “You too.”
I’m happy to say that the two had a wonderful night that day, wrapped in each other’s naked, sweaty bodies, turning another page slowly-very slowly, so as not to shock themselves. They both dreamt of the number two, swirling round and round amongst pale blue clouds, but there was one more coming, adding up, and everything became balanced and complete. Oh, yes! I almost forgot. There were also stars and planets in their dreams; sexless, faceless heavenly bodies, bursting and giving birth to new ones, forming a sea of creatures not linked by blood-but by soul!
END