Anthony swallowed hard as the cab turned onto the street and the building where Sören lived with Nicholas came closer and closer. He felt like an awkward teenager all over again, even more shy and nervous than he had on his first date with Sören all the way back in 2011... what felt like ages ago now.
Despite the mugginess of the July evening, he was wearing the same outfit that he'd worn when he'd had his first date with Sören four years ago - grey blazer, white shirt, black jeans, pointy black boots. He was a little thinner than he'd been back then, having lost weight in post-breakup depression and then again after the accident, but the clothes still fit without hanging awkwardly. He wondered if Sören would remember the outfit, but then, Sören always had a good eye for detail, both as a surgeon and an artist. He knew Sören would definitely remember the restaurant - he'd made reservations for the same fusion place in Bromley where they'd had their first date.
Anthony's hand tightened around the rose he was carrying - a single long-stemmed red rose, with baby's breath. He'd thought about a full bouquet of a dozen roses but he didn't want to be too over-the-top, so it was just the one. Sören had asked him to come upstairs to the flat when he arrived, or Anthony would have held off on the flowers, not wanting Sören to have to carry them around all evening.
He was a bit reluctant to see that flat - though he was trying to be OK with the fact that Sören had other partners, he nonetheless felt a bitter sting that Sören was nesting with another man, especially one so attractive, and who had some things Anthony did not: cooking ability, had been an educator at Oxford when Anthony had to settle for Cambridge. Anthony knew that comparisons weren't fair, and he didn't want to automatically hate Sören's partner, he felt like he was being unreasonable in his jealousy. Nonetheless, as the cab pulled over in front of the building he found himself wincing as if in pain.
Stop it. He's back in your life again. You're going on a date. That's what matters.
"We're here," the cab driver said.
"All right. And you'll wait while I run up?"
The cab driver nodded.
Of course, Anthony wasn't running - he cursed under his breath as he climbed out of the cab, struggling awkwardly with his cane. Getting in and out of cars was still an ordeal for him, though one he was willing to endure for Sören. He managed to get out with the rose intact, and then leaned on his cane as he walked to the door of the building. Then he walked to the lift. As soon as he stepped in the lift his heart began racing, giddy and nervous all at once, knowing in just a few minutes he'd see Sören. The man he loved. The man he'd been aching for, the last two years. He'd lost hope of ever reuniting with him and now that hope had been returned, and he felt full to the brim with joy, already getting teared up as the lift began its ascent.
Anthony could barely breathe as the lift doors opened, and there was the door to Sören's flat. His stomach was doing somersaults as he limped on to the door, and at last his breath came in a sharp exhale as he knocked.
Sören opened the door, a smile lighting up his face that made Anthony's heart soar. "Hi," Sören said softly, sounding a bit shy.
"Hi." Anthony looked him up and down. "You look great."
And then Anthony realized - Sören, too, was wearing the same outfit he'd worn on their first date in 2011, a black ruffly poet's shirt and black leather pants. He was even wearing the same earrings, two pairs of small silver hoops. The only thing different was that Sören's hair was longer, hanging down to his shoulders. Anthony resisted the urge to touch those beautiful black curls.
"So do you." Sören's eyes crinkled at the corners, his smile broader. "Wow, we're both wearing the same outfit we wore on our first date."
He remembers. Anthony blinked back tears. Of course Sören would remember, but he was still touched anyway. Anthony gave a little nervous clear of the throat and with his free hand, he held out the rose. "For you."
"Oh!" Sören's eyes widened as he took the rose and sniffed it, closing his eyes with a look of pleasure on his face at the fragrance. Their eyes met then and Sören said, "Let me go put this in a vase. Come in?"
Anthony was even more nervous about coming in, but he didn't want to be rude by just standing there. He stepped into the flat, hoping he wouldn't encounter Nicholas...
...but of course there he was, sitting on the couch, reading a book. "Er, hello," Anthony said.
"Good evening," Nicholas said mildly, not looking up from his book, but then he did put in a bookmark and looked at Anthony, then at Sören. Anthony's face was on fire, feeling like he was under scrutiny. He watched as Sören made his way into the kitchen - their flat had an open plan kitchen and living room - and Sören retrieved a single vase from a cupboard, put the rose inside, and got Sprite from the fridge, pouring Sprite into the vase.
As Sören took care of the rose, Anthony took a quick look around, taking in what he could from where he stood in the living room, leaning on his cane. Nicholas and Sören's flat had a fair amount of vintage wooden furniture, a lighter brown than the dark brownish-grey of the floorboards. There were grey and cream armchairs and couches, done up with throws and pillows in sea green and blues, smaller blue rugs to match. There was a grandfather clock ticking beside a woodstove; the woodstove wasn't going on a muggy night in July. The kitchen and living room were both full of ferns and potted palms, and it seemed everywhere Anthony looked there were bookshelves full of books, even in the kitchen. He reads, Anthony realized, glancing over at Nicholas, but then, it wasn't surprising that a Classics professor would - or that Sören would be attracted to someone well-read. Sören had a type, it seemed.
The place was shabby chic but in a genuine, rather than hipster, kind of way. It wasn't posh like his place in Kingston had been, but it felt more like a home. Anthony's eyes fixed on a cat tree by a window, before looking over at Sören again, with his rose, smiling as he set the vase down on the kitchen counter. Anthony took a few steps into the kitchen, feeling like he shouldn't just stand there like an idiot.
"Do you want something to drink before we leave?" Sören asked, before he capped the Sprite.
Anthony shook his head. "I have a cab waiting downstairs -"
Just then an adorable little cat came over, black with white tuxedo markings and white socks. Big, curious orange eyes, a notched ear and a scar on his pink nose. The cat rubbed against Anthony's legs with a "Prrrowwwrrr?"
"That's Toby," Sören said.
"His name is Tobias," Nicholas muttered, going back to his book.
Sören chuckled. "Nick rescued him years ago. He's a good boy, aren't you?" Sören stooped down to pet the cat. Anthony wanted to stoop, but it was a bit more difficult for him with the balance issues he already had. Tobias looked up at him as if to protest Why aren't you petting me?
Sören seemed to intuitively understand Anthony couldn't quite reach, so Sören scooped up the cat, and with Tobias draped on his shoulder, Sören came closer and Anthony gave the cat a few pets, feeling wistful for a cat of his own. Yet another thing to envy about Nicholas Decaux, another thing to envy about Sören nesting with another man. "Hello," Anthony said, skritching the cat's chin. "Aren't you a sweetheart. Yes, you're a good boy." Tobias began to purr and nuzzled Anthony's hand. Anthony felt himself smiling, that warm fuzzy feeling he got around affectionate cats. He scratched the cat behind the ears and Tobias purred even louder.
"He likes you," Sören said.
Then Sören walked over to Nicholas, with a gesture that Anthony should follow. Sören deposited the cat onto the couch, who walked over and climbed onto Nicholas's lap. Nicholas chuckled, petting the cat. Sören opened up a hollow book on the coffee table and took out a lint brush, and brushed Tobias's hair off his shirt; as he put the lint brush back in the hollow book, he leaned in and gave Nicholas a kiss, and Anthony was torn between thinking they looked very hot together, and once again feeling that sting of envy. "OK, elskan, I'll be back later."
"Have fun," Nicholas said, again in a very mild tone of voice, as if none of this bothered him, though as Sören took Anthony's hand and led him to the door, Anthony felt like he was being watched, and sure enough when he looked over his shoulder he saw Nicholas giving him a stern look as if to say you had better behave yourself, young man.
Anthony finally noticed the sign on the door when they exited, MEA NAVIS VOLITANS ANGUILLIS ABUNDAT. Anthony laughed, tickled. Then he quickly sobered, not wanting to like Sören's partner.
"Oh, you can read the sign?" Sören asked.
Anthony raised an eyebrow. "I took Latin in school. And there are many Latin terms in law -"
"OK, fair," Sören said. "That was a stupid question."
"No, not really." Anthony kissed his cheek. "I don't think I ever mentioned to you that I'd taken Latin in public school, just linguistics at Cambridge."
"I guess even after all these years, we're still learning things about each other." Their eyes met.
Anthony smiled. "I guess so. Makes it interesting." And of course, his mind went straight to the gutter, wondering if Sören's appetites were the same, if he had any new kinks to explore.
Sören looked a little ill at ease as they approached the lift, and Anthony worried then that Sören was nervous about the date, maybe even uncomfortable or having second thoughts. But when the lift doors closed and Sören let out a sharp exhale and tensed up, cringing, Anthony realized it wasn't that, confirmed when Sören made a little high-pitched noise of distress as the lift began to move. They'd been in an elevator a scant few times over their nearly two years together, but Anthony remembered that those few times Sören had anxiety. And he knew Sören was claustrophobic, but he knew Sören had been abused as a child and remembered a story of how his aunt Katrín had put him in a closet every so often for "acting up". It dawned on Anthony now why Sören had wanted him to come up rather than meeting him outside, even though it would have been easier than Anthony getting in and out of the cab - Sören probably didn't want to ride in the lift by himself.
"Oh, love." Anthony took Sören's hand and kissed it. "It's OK."
"I'm sorry." Sören cringed again. "I know I'm a big baby. I didn't want to tell you over the phone that I need help in the lift... I didn't think my anxiety would be this bad, either, but I guess I'm a bundle of nerves today -"
Anthony stroked Sören's cheek, feeling that ache of sympathy... as well as anger at what had caused his claustrophobia in the first place. "I don't judge you." He came closer, and without thinking about it, he fell back on the kinky game they had played when they were together. "Little brother's looking out for big brother now."
Sören threw his arms around Anthony and kissed him passionately. Anthony moaned into the kiss, melting... feeling his cock stir in his jeans. He kissed Sören back with all the fire pent up in him over the last two years, tongues teasing, playing, all the memories of the times they'd been inside each other, the promise that their bodies would join again. With his free hand Anthony held Sören's face, and then his fingers traced down Sören's sensitive throat, slid over his chest down his stomach, stopping before they could go lower. Now Sören was trembling for a reason other than fear, and they kissed again and again, completely lost in the kiss as the lift stopped and the doors chimed.
They pulled apart, breathing hard, and now it was Anthony to lead Sören out of the lift. He gave a nervous little chuckle and Sören giggled, his cheeks flushed. Sören shook his head. "We have to try to behave," Sören said. "No hanky-panky on the first date this time."
Sören had already given him the heads up about that earlier in the week. While Anthony was horny for him and a little disappointed, he also logically understood that after what had happened, he couldn't expect to spend the night with him that first date. Anthony nodded and put an arm around Sören's waist, both to steady himself and to give Sören a reassuring little squeeze. "I know. Though you're difficult to resist."
"You are too." Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip.
Anthony bit back a groan; it didn't help when Sören did that.
The cab was thankfully still waiting there at the curb, though the cab driver looked a little irritated when they approached, and Anthony wondered if it was because he was kept waiting longer than expected, or it was clear they were two men on a date, or both. Anthony took a deep breath as he climbed into the back seat of the cab, wishing he had a private driver. He hadn't wanted to ask his mum to chauffeur them, even though she'd offered.
But even more than how the cab driver felt, Anthony was nervous about the ungraceful clambering into the cab, and how it would look to Sören. Sören seemed completely unperturbed, giving Anthony a little kiss once he was in the back seat too; Anthony felt a wave of relief.
"Where to?" the cab driver asked, keeping his tone neutral even as the rest of him registered annoyance.
Anthony gave the address. Sören's eyes widened and he turned to Anthony. "That's where we had our first date."
"Yes," Anthony said. "I know Bromley's a ways out, but -"
Sören kissed him harder. When Sören kissed him like that, it didn't even matter what the cab driver, or anyone, thought. Nothing else existed.
Once the cab pulled up to the restaurant, Sören helped Anthony out of the cab and pulled him into a kiss, making Anthony's head spin on the way in. The restaurant hadn't changed much since their first visit in 2011, apart from adding some new things on the menu. Anthony went with the same pad thai quinoa bowl that he'd enjoyed, while Sören went with bulgogi burritos, a fusion of Mexican and Korean cuisine.
Sören didn't want to talk about work, and Anthony hadn't worked since his accident, so they talked about other things instead, mostly politics and world news. They both complained about David Cameron and expressed concern over Donald Trump's US presidential campaign, and remarked on ISIL attacks and the unfortunate surge of Islamophobia happening in the UK in their wake. Sören didn't bring up more personal matters, especially not Nicholas, and Anthony had a feeling that was deliberate, probably not wanting to make him uncomfortable.
While the conversation was more impersonal and about issues, it was still warm, where Anthony felt like he was chatting with an old friend. Except a bit more than a friend - there was still that spark between them, with their gaze locking across the table, little touches. It was also a reminder that they shared values, which Anthony thought was important; he'd been annoyed by the conservative-leaning politics of the crowd he used to run with, and the expectation that with his privileged background, he'd share them. That reminder of shared values was also a reminder that they both had a strong sense of purpose, both of them fighting to save lives and make a difference in the world in their own respective ways. Anthony felt a twinge, feeling a bit like a failure since he wasn't ready to return to Lincoln's Inn just yet.
As they waited for their check, Sören said, "I've been here five years. I'm applying for citizenship this month."
"Oh!" Anthony hadn't realized it had been that long, though of course he knew Sören had come to the UK in 2010. "Congratulations."
"Takk." Sören smiled into his drink. "It still feels surreal that it's been five years already."
"Yeah, it does." Anthony cocked his head to one side. "Will you still be working at the National? Or will you be going private, since you don't need them to sponsor your visa anymore?" He quickly added, "I'm just curious, I'm not judging you either way." His friends had judged Sören for not going private, which had rankled him, and he wished so much he had ditched those "friends" when they began to disrespect his partner.
"I'm still going to work for the NHS," Sören said. "I have a strong chance of making consultant at the National in a couple of years."
"That's good," Anthony said, and immediately felt like an idiot. That's good sounded trite, but he was impressed enough that he couldn't find better words.
Sören seemed to understand, nodding and smiling. Then his expression sobered. "When do you think you're going back to work? I'm just curious, myself."
"I don't know." Anthony gave a nervous little laugh and a half-shrug. "Probably in a few more months, when I'm not so worn out climbing steps." When I'm not so bloody self-conscious about people seeing me with my cane. I don't need Crown Prosecution weaponizing my disability. But he didn't speak those thoughts aloud. And that, too, gave him a twinge, knowing Sören wanted him to be honest about his problems, didn't want him to do the "stiff upper lip" thing in pride. Nonetheless, he felt self-conscious about even admitting he was self-conscious.
"It's good that you'll be getting out more," Sören said, taking his hand across the table. "Give you a bit of a workout."
Anthony's mind immediately went in the gutter again. He definitely wanted Sören to give him a bit of a workout. Sören seemed to know exactly how that sounded, that naughty look in his eye, a slight smirk as he finished his drink.
It was going to be a long night, having to behave himself.
Unlike their first date in 2011, where they had gone straight from the restaurant to Anthony's flat in Kingston, they were going to see Jurassic World at the cinema at Sören's request. Anthony had bought two tickets online at a cinema in Bromley, which was a short cab ride. Once again Sören helped him out of the cab and kissed him once he was out. As it was a Saturday night, there was a bit of a queue outside the cinema, and standing in place was harder for Anthony than walking, but Sören had an arm around him and leaning on Sören felt cozy and incredibly right. They ended up kissing right there in the line, interrupted by the clerk when it was their turn.
As the movie had been out for a few weeks already it wasn't as crowded as Anthony had feared, but there were still a number of moviegoers, including kids, which helped reinforce the need to behave tonight. Sören and Anthony found a spot in the middle of the theatre and Anthony sat close to the aisle. They split a big container of popcorn, which Sören had wanted, and Sören had also gotten a packet of peanut butter cups. He kissed Anthony with one in his mouth during the previews, and Anthony resisted the urge to grab Sören's cock.
Fortunately, the movie was fairly distracting. Anthony was a kid when the original Jurassic Park had come out, and he'd been young enough to be impressed by a dinosaur movie, but he felt a little sheepish about going to this one, even though he knew being "too old" for fun things was societal conditioning and there were plenty of things he was "too old" for that he still enjoyed, like video games and Harry Potter.
Sören laughed as other people in the theatre jumped and gasped at the scary moments in the movie, and then Sören himself ended up getting startled, letting out a high-pitched "meep" and spilling popcorn all over himself. Anthony tried not to laugh and failed, and Sören gave him a mock stern look but laughed too. Sören scooped up some of the popcorn that had fallen onto his lap and stuck it in Anthony's mouth, and Anthony, feeling cheeky, sucked the butter and salt off of Sören's fingers once he'd eaten the popcorn. Heat flared in Sören's eyes, and Anthony's cock stirred again.
But they had to behave. And Anthony didn't want Sören to miss too much of the movie. They cuddled until the movie was done, and they stayed through the credits, giving other people a chance to clear out, so Anthony wouldn't feel like he was holding up the queue out of the theatre by moving more slowly. Anthony and Sören stole a few more kisses when it was just them and the credits.
As they waited for their cab, Sören played one of the video games in the arcade while Anthony watched for the cab, but kept glancing over at Sören, getting all fluttery at Sören enjoying himself. He also felt wistful for the times when they used to play games together like Sonic the Hedgehog and Super Mario Bros. It wasn't just that he had lost his partner, but he'd lost his best friend, someone he could have fun with, which was so necessary when his job got too serious. He'd missed Sören so much.
While Anthony wanted to kiss Sören again, he didn't want the cab driver to have a negative reaction - even though it was a different one than before; Anthony never knew how people would react to two men being openly affectionate, even in 2015 - so on the ride out of Bromley they kept it to just cuddling, holding hands... but every nerve in Anthony's body was screaming to touch Sören, to kiss him.
When the cab arrived at Sören's building, Anthony had the driver wait; once again Sören helped him out of the cab. Sören showed no sign of being bothered by Anthony's cane and needing a little extra help with mobility, and Anthony was relieved and grateful.
He, in turn, didn't mind walking Sören into the building and riding with him in the lift. To distract Sören from the claustrophobia he finally gave Sören that deep, passionate kiss he'd wanted to give him in the cab. "I missed you so much," Anthony whispered, before kissing Sören again, even more fiercely. Sören's arms tightened around Anthony and Anthony found himself pushing Sören up against the wall of the lift, instinctively thrusting his hips out, feeling Sören's hard bulge pressed up on his own. Sören moaned, and gave a little cry as Anthony began to kiss along his jaw, nuzzled his beard, started kissing his neck. The lift chimed, coming to a stop just as Anthony licked Sören's throat.
They pulled themselves out of the lift and paused in front of the door to Sören and Nicholas's flat. They lingered, not wanting to part just yet.
Finally Sören said, "I had fun."
"I enjoyed myself too," Anthony said.
"We should do this again." Sören raised an eyebrow. "I have next Thursday evening off, if you'd like to get together?"
"I would," Anthony said. He was both elated that Sören wanted another date, and a bit disappointed that he had to wait until Thursday, which felt like years away, not days. He realized of course that Sören had a crazy schedule, and now he was sharing Sören with other partners, so he had to be grateful to see Sören even once a week, never mind more frequently. He knew that going into this, and he would take what he could get. But he still felt an ache.
Sören seemed to notice, and pulled Anthony into a tight hug, patting him, chuckling. "Oh, Anthony. It'll go by fast."
"I'm sorry," Anthony said, resting his head on Sören's shoulder. "I don't want to be too needy -"
Sören silenced him with a kiss. And then they were kissing again, deep, hungry kisses that felt like sex even though they were both fully clothed. Anthony's free hand played with Sören's hair, ran over Sören's chest, and his thumb brushed a pierced nipple through the fabric, a promise of pleasure when they finally could make love again. Sören moaned and Anthony shivered - he loved the sound of that moan - and Anthony sucked on Sören's lower lip, making Sören moan again.
"We better, ah." Sören pulled back a little, breathing harder, cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide. Anthony looked down at the erection in Sören's pants and couldn't help smirking. "Yeah." Sören's eyes narrowed and he gave Anthony a playful swat. "Not tonight."
"I know," Anthony said, and that came out a bit defensively, and then he said, more softly, "I know."
Sören nodded. "You also need to give me your test results."
Anthony nodded. He felt really self-conscious again, especially right outside the door where he wondered if Nicholas was eavesdropping and listening to everything - he certainly would in the same position. "I see my doctor on Tuesday, and I'm picking up, ah. The Truvada prescription."
"Good." Sören nodded again.
They kept nodding at each other, awkwardly, and then Anthony cleared his throat and said, "I, ah, shouldn't keep the cab driver waiting. What time on Thursday?"
"Seven again? Maybe something a little closer to home this time? Your turf or mine, I mean."
Anthony thought, and then he said, "Greenleaf? It's a bookstore close to where my parents live." He almost said where I live, but he still felt like he was a guest at his parents' house. "And they've got coffee, and a little cafe." He thought about inviting Sören over to dinner at his parents', but he felt that would be a bit too soon, much as Elaine was eager to see him again.
"That sounds lovely. I'll take a cab to your place this time, I'll have Nick do the lift with me."
"All right." Anthony stroked Sören's cheek. "I'm looking forward to it."
"Me too. I like books." Then Sören facepalmed. "Obviously you know that. God, I'm an idiot." Sören's voice dropped in an imitation of Nicholas's basso. "As you know..."
"It's OK, Sören. I feel like an idiot too." Anthony bit his lower lip. "I feel like I can't think straight around you."
"Anthony, let's be real, nothing about you is straight."
Anthony shook with full-bodied laughter - Sören's jokes and banter were one of the things he missed most about him, and it felt so good to have that back in his life. Sören's face lit up, pleased that Anthony laughed at his joke, and then Sören crushed Anthony to him in another kiss, hot, hungry kisses again and again, like their lives depended on it.
Then Sören gave Anthony a little shove. "You better get your cab, and, ah... I need to not... ah." Sören glanced down at his tented trousers.
Anthony chuckled. He blew Sören a kiss on his way to the lift. "Good night, my love."
"Good night, elskan."
Anthony felt his eyes misting on the lift down. He'd missed being called elskan and other Icelandic terms of endearment too. He'd even missed Sören going into "drunk Viking mode", when Sören got so angry or upset he lost his ability to speak English. Though Sören's accent was milder from having lived in London for five years, it was still beautiful; Anthony never got tired of hearing Sören's voice.
Or kissing those sweet, full lips, or feeling Sören's willowy body against his. His erection throbbed painfully on the way back home. His parents were already in bed when he arrived, which he was relieved by - while he knew Elaine would ask him about the date tomorrow, he just wanted to take care of business right now. He brushed his teeth and changed as quickly as he could, and once he got under the covers he stroked himself fast and furiously, fantasizing about tying Sören's wrists to the bed, kissing and licking him all over, sucking Sören to orgasm, then untying Sören and taking him, feeling Sören's hands on him, Sören's nails digging into him as he pounded away. The thought of Sören coming all over him, like he'd done countless times in the past, set him off, not able to keep from crying out "Sören," as he let go, shooting over his hand and bare chest and stomach.
With memories of holding Sören in the afterglow, and knowing it would be a reality soon enough, there was a little smile on his face as he slipped into sleep.
He is in the body not his own again, with long pale blond hair that seems more gold or more silver in the play of light and shadow. Sören has a flood of long, straight black hair to his knees, piercing grey eyes, a somewhat different face but it is still him, the soul-deep burning. They are both wearing flower crowns. Sören slips a silver ring onto his finger, two serpents with emerald eyes, bearing a golden wreath. Then they clasp hands and their wrists are bound together with a length of gold-and-silver rope.
With this ring I bind thee, I claim thee, that no matter where thou goest, or for however long, thou wilt return to me, for for thy heart is mine as my heart is thine, our love ties us together as surely as the circle is never broken.
The glorious eternal spring of the garden fades into winter, a frozen wasteland, snow and hail.
"You must go back," Sören says, stern, unyielding. He pushes Anthony away. "You must renounce me. You must tell them you were wrong."
"No, I will not deny you, I will not -"
"You will, or your children's blood will be on your hands... and mine."
Anthony takes a deep breath, and speaks the truth of his insecurity. "You just want to get rid of me," Anthony says. "You never have time for me anymore -"
"We're in the middle of a war, in case you haven't been able to tell."
Anthony shakes his head. "You still have time for our brother." And then he sneers. "That's it, isn't it? You don't want me anymore. You just want him."
There is a long pause. Then at last Sören looks into his eyes and says, "You're right."
He walks away, he sails away, with their other-brother's wife and his own wife, who he does not love, who he has not lain with, though they are friends - Sören had threesomes with them, helped him spill his seed to conceive children. And when he comes back to their homeland he lives a loveless life; the days all blend into each other, and though he tries to find a sense of purpose in leading what is left of their people, it still hurts.
The deepest cut of all is when he sleeps and has a nightmare - a vision of Sören riding off to war, ambushed by a pack of horrible fire-demons that lash at him with whips. Sören dies in his son's arms, going up in flames. Anthony wakes with a gasp, next to the wife, who as a friend reaches out to him to embrace him. But it feels almost as bad as the nightmare itself, this waking reality, where he is alone. He had held out the smallest glimmer of hope that Sören would come back, and now he is gone, he felt Sören die, and he lives, but it is not a life, really.
Anthony begins to weep, feeling like his very soul is breaking with every tear.
Anthony woke up crying in the middle of the night, and when he looked at the clock and saw it was after three in the morning and realized he'd woken himself up crying - then remembered the dream, the nightmare - he cried even harder. And kept crying, feeling ashamed of crying.
He heard footsteps, and then a gentle knock at the door. "Anthony?" came Elaine's voice. "Anthony, are you all right?"
"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you -"
The door opened a crack. "Are you decent? May I come in?"
Anthony just nodded in the blue glow of the nightlight. Elaine walked in, wearing a nightgown, hair mussed, looking tired. She took a seat across from Anthony's bed. "What happened?" Elaine's eyes widened with concern. "Did your date with Sören go OK -"
"It was fine, Mum." Anthony exhaled sharply. "It was good." Fine sounded like the everything's fine denial that both he and Sören had been too fond of using. "I just... had a bad dream."
"I see." Elaine folded her hands. "What about? If you're OK with talking about it, but sometimes talking about these things helps..."
"I dreamt Sören died."
"Oh." Elaine pursed her lips.
Anthony knew that wasn't the answer his mother had been expecting, and there was a long pause, as if she were trying to figure out the right thing to say to that. Finally Elaine said, "Well, that probably means you're afraid of losing him again."
"No shit." Then Anthony remembered he was talking to his mother. "Sorry, Mum."
Elaine chuckled. "It's all right, dear. I know you're shaken up. Do you want some warm milk? Like when you were a boy and had nightmares, or couldn't sleep?"
Anthony felt even more self-conscious but he wasn't going to say no. A few minutes later Elaine returned with warm sugared milk and when he was finished, she tucked him in and patted his head. "Get some rest, dear."
His mother's comfort had been nice - even at age thirty-five, part of him still needed that, much as he hated being a "mummy's boy" sometimes - but he still felt badly shaken by the dream. What Elaine didn't know - what she couldn't know - is that he was having those dreams again. When he and Sören were together they had both had recurring dreams that felt like another time, another life, where he had long blond hair and Sören had long black hair, and they were brothers, who were also lovers, and shared their other brother. Those dreams had been gone for awhile, since Sören was gone from his life. But now they were back. Anthony didn't want to believe in things like past lives, or afterlives, or Higher Powers, or any of that. He thought religion contributed to societal ills rather than fixed them. And yet, it was harder for him to shake that it was just nothing, just a coincidence they were both dreaming it...
...and this had felt more than just a dream, like those dreams always did, but this one most of all. This felt like something more. Like he'd lost Sören a long time ago and this was why they were here, all over again, to get it right this time.
Yet he knew from the experience of 2013 that it was easier said than done. Even though he had no plans to cheat on Sören, he knew that wasn't the only thing that could destroy a relationship. As Sören himself had pointed out, the cheating was more a symptom of what was wrong, rather than a cause.
And all the good intentions in the world couldn't barricade the road to hell; sometimes they paved it.
Underneath the warm blankets, Anthony shivered.
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