True Love
By Honey
It wasn't at all like he had imagined. No, on those lazy afternoons in Chris' arms he would dream up more pure white flowers than the world had to offer and uncomfortable tuxes that they both would wear, because that was how it was supposed to be. The chapel bells were supposed to ring, their sound letting the world know that two souls had found each other, whether or not one was of the fairer sex, although Chris would often tell Lance he was fairer than any man ought to be, and coming from his mouth it was never an insult. Lance knew what that comment was supposed to mean when it was followed by a sweet kiss. It didn't have to be a limo, just as long as it was white. It wasn't white, but that was a small annoyance when the chapel's neon bells swung and sang their high-pitched tune. At least they were both adorned in suits, uncomfortable enough.
Lance sat in the pure white room, bright lights shining down on his back. It had been enough. Chris had still been there. That was all that was important. Lance had taken his name, wanting to have the same last name as his love, and never forgetting the way he had said it in the darkness the first night he had realized what he wanted-Chris. Justin had heard him, asking for repetition. Scared, Lance had faked sleep. He had not yet spent enough time with the group to trust such a secret with one of them. He had never even known he was gay, or bi, or whatever it was. Lance had later decided he was bi, because he liked women. He had never even felt anything beyond brotherhood for another man, excluding Chris. Chris was special. He was almost a whole nother class-not male or female-just Chris. If he had been a woman, which Lance admitted he most certainly was not, he would have still been that person he had pined over for years.
The chill caused a shudder to force itself through Lance's body as he fingered the silver band around his finger. He remembered the way Chris had smiled that day, a week ago. Lance had been lying back against his chest, glad to be off tour, if even for only a little while. They had both been lying for at least a couple hours, content in the heat they now shared. That was when Lance told him he thought it right to wear the future band on his left ring finger, like a good husband should do. Chris had told him that he really didn't have to, but Lance simply told him if the fans didn't like it that was ok, because they weren't who he wished to spend the rest of his life with. Chris had grinned, knowing Lance had given up his previous lover, money, for him. He didn't realize than that Lance was proud to do this, because Chris' kisses were much softer than hers.
Singing children entered the room, searching for a tired soul to carol for. Lance looked up to the children, his worn eyes sending chills down their spines. A watchful adult examined the man still clad in a black suit, splattered with the mud and blood that had ruined his night. "My son?"
Lance gazed into the eyes of the priest before him, wondering whose wedding his Elvis look-a-like was performing now, behind the red stains Chris' pain had left. "How do I enjoy your music when he has left me to live alone tonight? It is nearly Christmas, but my joy is hidden underneath layers of dried blood. Tell me, how I do I live and not reach for that silver blade, which is my true holiday wish?" Lance looked to the hospital bed, which recently held the lifeless body of the man he loved. "How do I receive the gift of happiness that I earlier thought would only come from him? There must be another way, because I so desperately need that gift wrapped in silver paper to sit underneath my tree tonight."
The priest left a warm kiss atop his forehead. "He is with you. Look in your heart and you will find this love you speak of."
"Bull shit." Lance cried into the dark fabric of the kneeling man, shaking from the flood of tears. "Memories can not compare to the love I had. His hugs and kisses are not as soft in my head. He held me so tight, I thought I was surely dead. I made love to him for the first and last time of my life tonight. I doubt you wanted to know, but I find it important, because he made me feel whole. I need to feel that again, and my memories fade so fast in this harsh place."
Children watched in awe as the crying man on the floor held to the other man for dear life, searching for a way to keep himself from falling deeper into the pit that careless driver had dug.
"Christ will help you through this ordeal, my son. Look to him and he will hold you as you wish."
Lance stood tall and walked to the window, gazing out from the high building onto the lights of the city. "No one can hold me like Chris did. No one can understand the love he gave an empty heart to make it full again. He pulled me out a pit I now find myself slipping back into, and not even Jesus Christ can lovingly retrieve me." Lance climbed onto the windowsill and let himself fall out of the open window. He landed, but did not die. Blood spilled from his mouth as pain shot through his body. Passers-by paused to hear his wretched cry and watch his legs, which should have been broken, stand. Lance looked to the sky, crimson blood running down his face. "Fucking baby! Why won't you fucking let me die?! My pain is enough for this life!" A nurse attempted to take his hand, but was pushed away with the strength of a healthy man. Lance ran into the streets, hoping for a speeding car to end his miserable life, but all of these drivers came to a halt when his form came into view. "Let me die!"
~
This a story of true love, which I fear does not exist in the world outside of Document1 - Microsoft Word. In creating a reality in my words, I must remind everyone that pleasure and pain come in pairs. If this pleasure if unreal, the pain as well shall be beyond realism. I will not kill Lance and let the pain subside. That would ruin my message. I do, however, give you permission to dream of his death and give him some freedom from true love in your head. I think he deserves that.