Prologue
Damien whistled cheerfully as he strolled down the street. Pretenses must be kept up. He thought acidly, throwing a cheeky grin and wave of greeting at one of his neighbors.
He angrily checked his makeup in a store window for the umpteenth time that day. His eyes filled again.
“Damnit,” he hissed, swiping his tears away. “Byron wouldn’t want me sobbing over his death.”
He took a deep composing breath...and decided he couldn’t go back to the apartment. If he came home this early Kyle would know something was up, and Damien frankly wasn’t ready to face the questions Kyle would have.
Hours later, he’d journeyed three more blocks to a park, and dropped heavily onto a bench. He stared at the full moon, wishing that some of the fantasy stories he’d read were true and something would sweep down and wipe him off the face of the earth.
He sat perfectly still for a few moments, before letting out a large sigh, and reminding himself that they were creatures of fantasy and that he would not be suddenly attacked by a werewolf and completely mutilated. So much for hoping, it wasn’t going to happen any time soon. Well, he could hope.
That brought him back in a full circle to Byron. Died of a gun shot wound to the head, missing for four days before his body was found; a nice death for a gang member.
They had all known that as a gang member Byron would be exposed to a certain amount of violence...they also knew that if he wasn’t involved in the gang the rest of the family would have been “put out of their misery”. Ah, the joys of having been adopted into a gang related family.
So, here he was, without a family and with a gradually eroding relationship. Oh yes, life was perfect.
“Could things get any worse?” he hissed, disgusted at the way he was falling apart. And as if Murphy suddenly decided to wreak havoc on his life the skies opened up and a downpour started. “I just had to ask.”
He slowly trudged home, his footsteps sluggish as the icy rain water soaked him. He knew that Kyle would be pissed if he trailed water all over the carpet, but he also knew that Kyle had grown indifferent to their relationship and that it would be over very soon.
Lightning flashed and thunder boomed overhead as he entered the shabby lobby of the apartment building where he lived. Groaning, he pulled his shirt over his head and rung it out, splattering water all over the grungy tile floor. It would dry, but hopefully one of the perverts that had an apartment in this building would slip and break his neck first.
The elevator ride up was just as bland as it had been that morning and the day before and the day before that. Out of date and key music piped softly from a speaker in the top right corner, constantly reminding him that this was his life and was going to be just as shitty tomorrow as well. The glare he sent in its direction didn’t seem to have any affect on the dull music, slowly giving him a headache.
The elevator doors opened on the fifth floor and from the classical music floating down the hallway Kyle was defiantly home and in a rather foul mood. Damien got lucky and there were no old geezers to block his path as he walked down the hall to the last door on the right. He hesitated before the door, wondering whether it was a good idea to return to the office and try to sleep on the couch or get more work done.
Unfortunately it seemed Kyle’s extra sense was working over time and the door swung open to reveal a rather calm looking Kyle. How he did it was a mystery, but he always seemed to know when Damien was near by, which really made sneaking up on him really hard.
Calm was not something Kyle did well, he would be anything but calm. Something big was up.
“You’re all wet,” Kyle said neutrally, throwing a towel at him. “Dry off and change clothes, we have to talk.”
Most of Kyle’s clothing was gone from the closet and there was a duffel bag on the floor of the living room. Oh yeah, something very big was up.
He didn’t have to look in the mirror to tell that his makeup was smeared beyond fixing-ah the trouble of being a Goth without waterproof mascara on a rainy day. He used a wet washcloth and wiped most of it away, making a mental note to reapply it before he went to work his night job. On to more important things...
He sat on the couch before the pacing Kyle, noting that Kyle was starting to wear a hole in the carpet.
“We can’t keep lying to ourselves.” Kyle started. “This isn’t going to work.”
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