Chapter 34 

 

The sharp inhalation of breath was loud and was immediately followed by a shocked and frightened cry of disbelief. It was deep in tone because it came from a man. The man’s eyes sprung open revealing both fear and incomprehension, before those same eyes were left with the residue of lost uncertainty. The man felt lost because for extended moments he did not know where he was. He could not believe what he had just seen or experienced and he could not fathom how it related to what he was seeing now. In those moments he felt trapped, caught between what he thought had been and what might actually be. Still he struggled, unable to distinguish what was real from what was not.

 

Sweat covered his forehead and upper lip, not just a sheen but heavy beads that were creating pools of saltwater. A conscious thought revealed his physical discomfort, as he realized the cold nature of the concrete beneath his body while the direct sunlight of a new day was burning down on top of him as well. He blinked, looked around and took the necessary moments to get his bearings. He did not want to accept what he was seeing, even though he knew it was real. He closed his eyes again, a tight clench of his eyelids, begging pointlessly that reality and dream could reverse.

 

***

 

Two men were soon to meet. They knew nothing of each other’s circumstances and naturally would assume their lives were worlds apart. If they had anything in common it would not be obvious and would take some extraordinary event to open the doors of awareness and to make two histories merge and change.

 

One man existed, though just barely. An alley in Detroit was his home and his world was lonely and filled with vague memories, as well as questions of alternative choices he might once have made but chose otherwise. He was a man filled with regret and dreams, the former for what had come true and the latter for what had never come to be.

 

The other man was an independent tradesman. He was and had always been a single man while also an incredibly handsome man, who had lived his life in a fabrication, created within the superficial, never allowing substance to touch or enter his simple and unthreatened world. He was physically and financially comfortable but while proud of his general achievements, at his crux he was never truly satisfied. Prone to the carnal and the hedonistic, he had not opened himself up to his truth, the life he innately yearned for, a life of love and companionship and meaning. He had not been willing to unlock those types of doors, not with any seriousness, not until recently.

 

***

 

The night before had been so cold. It was the end of winter but the extremity of the cold snap made the night feel like the Arctic, at least to those who were caught outdoors. In an alley, in the center of town, squeezed between trash and bins, a man that generally would have been referred to as a bum, had snuggled the massive frame of his dwindling body between ripped open, cardboard boxes. He had been trying to stay warm while incongruously begging the night would take him, that its dark wings would enfold him for the last time.

 

The night had past and morning had arrived. Rays of the late morning sun slipped into the alley between the buildings, burning down onto him as it filled his tiny corner of the world. Like sheets on a humid night, the cardboard covers had been pushed away in the growing heat of the sun. Surrounding his position lay empty bottles he had consumed over the past week. The torn and tattered clothing twisted around him, had barely been enough to stop him from freezing to death.

 

He stirred with slight movements but still he did not open his eyes again. His mind was a jungle of images but though he was awake, his subconscious was still trying to maintain control.

 

The dream had seemed to go on for hours, if not all night. It felt like the longest dream he had ever had. It had been filled with true and undying memories of the first part of his life, however, it had also been filled with wishes, hopes and dreams of a life that had never come to be. So many people and faces and so many unknown places. He rolled a little and turned his face toward the sun.

 

His black hair was long, falling past his shoulders and it also joined with a beard and moustache that were thick, bushy and dirty. His hair surrounded his face and only a small portion of the real facial features could bee seen. There was something of the jungle man about him, except that his clothes and surroundings gave away the truth.

 

His hand dug into his only viable pocket and he withdrew a matchbook and a half smoked and crumpled cigarette. His eyes opened just a little and he straightened the damaged cigarette and then lit it. As he inhaled the first puff of smoke, he coughed from the deepest level of his lungs. It was a rumbling cough that caught hold of a buildup of mucus and catapulted it into his mouth. He turned and spat and it sailed across the alley. He did not see it go or where it landed because he did not care. There was little he cared about anymore.

 

Immediately he inhaled from the concluding cigarette but when he exhaled this time, all that returned was a dark smoke. He felt pleasured by the smoke; it was an old friend that had long been with him. He looked at the empty bottles and even though he hated them, still the thought of the obliteration of his mind attracted him. He wished he had a bottle to kill this day as well. He decided that when night fell again, he would have to do what he detested doing, to earn the money to buy a bottle and some cigarettes.

 

His body was now shaking but it was not about the previous cold. The sun was making him hot and he could even feel sweat in the usual places. He was shaking from his hangover and also from the strain of his existence upon his body.

 

Thoughts of the dream came back again. The beginning of it he understood. Though not real, it was understandable. He could see that his unconscious mind had created a new version of the life he had so often wished for. For just a moment he thought that like in the dream, if he had made a single choice, perhaps his life would have turned out differently. He shook his head as if he were being foolish for even entertaining the thought. Even so, his subconscious had done a particularly good job of the wish, filling the visions of that dream life with color and happiness and love.

 

Feeling the hardness of the cold concrete beneath his back, frustration filled him from the discomfort. He was frustrated because this was his real life. He thought of the dream again and his frustration merged with anger found in the contrast between his reality and the idyllic and delusional nature of the dream. The irony was that at the deepest level of his being, he wanted the dream and not his reality.

 

His following voice was deep yet husky, as if he had been living on a diet of razor blades and gravel, when he admonished himself for allowing one part of the dream to make him vaguely smile.

 

“Don’t be a fool. It will always be a fantasy and nothing more. By this point in your life you should have awoken to the fact that nothing is ever going to change. You’re an unimportant piece of shit in the scheme of things. You got exactly what you deserved. No man wanted you and no man needed you as part of his life. Even life itself saw to it that you would have little chance to become somebody other than a ghost, an invisible being that a city passes by every single day.”

 

Disturbed by his own thought, specifically because he believed it was true, he forcibly turned his mind to the second part of the dream. This part of the dream he recognized. It was a long and drawn out excursion into the first twenty or so years of his life. He thought that even though it was not particularly enjoyable to go through it all again, still, unlike the rest of the dream, at least it was rational and reasonable and real.

 

In his mind he tried to tell himself he was not happy that the dream had returned to the fantasy of a happy life. A lover, friends and family, a house, a car and a job, it was all so picture perfect and like something that might be seen in a magazine. “Hell, I even had a dog,” he thought.

 

The man smirked. It was condescending and supercilious, a look that said that the end of the dream could not have gone any other way. He felt it was appropriate to the hand he had been dealt.

 

“In a way,” he thought, “what it showed me was that even if my wish had come true, still it would have been ripped away from me. It just goes to prove that I’m right and for whatever the reason, I was not deserving of any other life than this one.”

 

Regardless of his belief and certainty, still the end of the dream, what he thought were the last few minutes before he had awoken, had been one of the most bizarre dreams he had ever dreamt. It was the one part he did not understand at all. He shrugged dismissively, as he continued to lie on his side uncomfortably. He thought the end of the dream was like most dreams, filled with unreal images while also the impossible and the implausible.

 

“What the fuck does it matter? All of it was just a dream,” he mumbled.

 

He heard footfalls as someone turned into the alley, someone obviously taking the shortcut through to the other side of the block. He did not react, adjust his position or even look in the direction of the noise. He did not care who was coming because they would walk past him like everyone did. They gave him no thought or attention and so he thought they deserved nothing in return. He took the final puff on the cigarette, which burned into the filter and then he flicked the butt across the alley and slightly adjusted his position again.

 

He saw the feet and the lower legs passing. He saw them stop and he knew the person was looking at him. He did not care though and he closed his eyes and waited until he heard the sound of the continuation, the footsteps moving on and then fading into the distance.

 

***

 

The car pulled up beside the curb and the engine went silent. The man sat in the driver’s seat for a while, his thoughts about what he was about to do. It was bitterly cold outside again and it was also five-fifteen in the morning. There was not a soul around and the streets of Detroit were empty.

 

He had gone to bed at eleven-thirty but sleep had eluded him and it was all because of what he had seen the day before. He did not understand why some innocuous vagrant had gotten so under his skin. He tried to go to sleep again and he even tried counting sheep but to no avail. At two AM he had thrown back the covers and gone to the kitchen, resorting to warm milk but even that had been a waste of time. Finally with a yell of both frustration and confusion, he dressed himself and minutes later, he was leaving his home and driving toward midtown.

 

He asked himself silently, “Why are you doing this?”

 

No answer followed his question because the answer was wrapped within partial certainty and partial uncertainty. All he knew was the day before, as he had walked down an alley, which he had used as a shortcut from one street to another, he had passed by a man in the corner where the alley turned ninety degrees.

 

He had seen hundreds of bums in the streets over many years and he had felt sorry for them but showed little concern. He wondered, “What was it about this one?” The day before as he walked by and saw him, the bum had not acknowledged him, not looked at him or reacted in anyway at all. However, seeing the man, his face hidden behind hair, his giant body wrapped in torn clothing and the sense of an inhuman existence, all while frozen resignation filled the air like an ambiance; somehow it had just gotten to him.

 

He thought, “Think man, think. Think about what it is you’re planning to do?”

 

He sighed very loudly and then replied to his own thought, “Fuck it!”

 

Looking out through the windscreen he saw the light beginning to change the night’s sky. It was turning from black to navy blue. Sunrise caused a shift in the air. Hot air rises and so the cold gets colder before it gets warmer. He pushed open the driver’s side door and stepped out. His first breath looked like he had just puffed on a cigarette, as the hot breath and freezing air merged in front of him. He wrapped his arms around his body, shivered and then turned and walked. He flicked on the tiny halogen torch he kept in the glove compartment of his car. He entered the same yet now dark alley and then tentatively, he walked between the walls of the buildings on either side.

 

“He probably won’t even be there and all of this will be pointless,” he thought.

 

When he was approaching the place where the alley turned, he lifted the angle of the torch slightly toward the trash bins. He did not want to scare the man if he was there. The light spread out. He saw the cardboard he had seen the day before but it was soaked wet and sitting in a puddle of water. He remembered that it had rained heavily around ten o’clock the night before and that was when the bulk of his feelings of compassion for the unknown vagrant had begun to push him even more.

 

His eyes lifted a little. There, sitting in the corner was the man. His eyes were opened and he was watching him while shivering with such severity, there was no way he could sleep or even relax. The inhuman man hugged his body fruitlessly. His eyes were wide as the torchlight caught them and they showed fear as well as futility.

 

***

 

The vagrant stared at the stranger in his alley. He wondered what he was doing there and he wondered who he was and what he wanted. He thought that the way the stranger had been searching with the light around the bins, maybe he had lost something or had thrown out something by mistake.

 

He looked at the stranger’s face. Daylight was still a while away but the torchlight was enough to illuminate the face, even if only vaguely. Though he was sure it was impossible, he had the distinct impression he knew the man. He had no idea why or from where but still there was a sense of familiarity about the stranger. He dismissed the thought based on its unlikelihood.

 

Ironically or perhaps not, the vagrant felt threatened. It was odd because the stranger seemed harmless enough and yet still here he was in the dark, in an alley at this time, just before dawn would truly break. It all seemed so wrong and then the stranger looked at him.

 

The vagrant knew if he were not so damned cold and wet, he would rise to his feet and scare the stranger away. Unfortunately, the damned shivering was so out of control it was actually hurting his body. For so many hours he had been begging for it to stop but it was relentless. It was so extreme he could not move and he could not even get to his feet. Now this stranger was here and he felt helpless.

 

The vagrant thought hopefully, “Maybe this is finally it? Maybe my time has finally come and this stranger will bring it all to an end? I couldn’t fight back if I wanted to and I really don’t want to.”

 

Curiously and now filled with resignation, the vagrant stared fearfully at the man who was staring back at him.

 

***

 

“It’s okay. Don’t be afraid. I’m not here to hurt you. I want to help you,” the stranger said.

 

Within the small space of skin surrounded by drenched, black hair that clung to his head and face like skin, the eyes looked back confused and disbelieving. The man did not move and he did not speak. He shivered violently and continued to just stare.

 

“I want to take you out of here. I want to help you. I want to offer you a hot shower to warm you up and a comfortable bed for you to sleep in.”

 

Violent shivering, an unbroken gaze and distrust gathered together like roommates looking at an event through the same window. A background thought of a hot shower and a warm bed came and left in a flash but amidst it all, only silence followed.

 

“Please, I know this is strange. I know to you it probably sounds unlikely and impossible,” he said and then took a step closer.

 

The homeless man did not react. There was no flinch, no attempt to run or to attack, he just watched, again with disbelieving eyes.

 

“What I’m going to do,” the stranger said and began to walk slowly towards him, “I’m going to come over to you, I’m going to help you up and then I’m going to walk you to my car and drive you to my home. I live alone, no one will see you, no one will say anything to you and no one will judge or hurt you,” he explained.

 

The moment the homeless man felt the hand on his arm he jerked away. He did not try to escape because he could not move if he wanted to. Momentarily he imagined the man was a cop who wanted to arrest him for vagrancy. Even so, the cold was so deep in his bones and the shivering was so out of control, nothing of his body seemed capable of working, regardless of a choice he might otherwise make. He thought that at least a jail cell would be warmer. The hand gripped his arm but it was warm and it was a human touch. He did not want to trust it and yet he wanted to trust it more than he wanted anything else in his life at that moment.

 

“It’s okay,” the gentle though masculine voice said and then his hand let go and his arm slid around his back and pulled him close.

 

The feelings that went through the homeless man’s body were overwhelming. His body was screaming at him in silent words. It contained more than he could comprehend as a whole. There was relief, there was fear, there was warmth, there was compassion, there was loss, there was solitude, there was strength and there was also stubbornness. His body was being lifted but he had no energy to struggle or help. He wanted to but his legs were shaking beyond his control and he knew they wanted to collapse beneath him. When they did a moment later, he found himself pressed against the man’s body and the man’s arms embracing him and holding him up. The stranger was big but nowhere near as big as him and it reminded him momentarily of the dream from the night before.

 

The smell was vile as the vagrant fell into the stranger’s arms. The assault upon the man’s olfactory senses filled him with disgust but immediately also, filled him with anger toward humankind. It was the smell of an unwashed human body but more so, it was the smell of the vagrant’s living quarters. The combination of a stale alley, of mold, of vermin and its feces and then there was the horrendousness of human garbage. It made him heave and want to vomit. He swallowed it down and held his breath and then adjusted and tightened his hold on the vagrant.

 

The shivering against the stranger was like nothing he had felt before. How a human body could shake so violently that it made him feel like he was in an earthquake, it was almost impossible to comprehend. How could someone living in his city be that cold?

 

“Don’t struggle and don’t fight me but do your best. We need to get you to my car and I can’t carry you. I know you’re freezing but you need to try and help me. Do you think you can walk?”

 

“Yeah,” came a croaky reply but it was incomprehensible to the stranger and only the nodding of the vagrant’s head told him it was okay.

 

The vagrant could hardly believe he had agreed, let alone that he was in someone else’s arms and accepting support. He knew that on any other day or night, he would have done or said anything to make the man walk away and leave him alone. He knew, though, it was the insidious cold and the aching of his body that was overriding his standard reactions and responses. He wanted the help and he wanted to stop shaking and he thought that at least until the day arrived and the sun came out, he would accept the stranger’s help.

 

Again adjusting his hold around the freezing man, he held him close and walked him slowly toward his car. It took twice the time if not more to get out of the alley but once they were in the car, he felt certain he was doing the right thing. He hated that the vile smell of this decrepit man was now in his car but still, with certainty he felt good about what he was doing. He turned the heater up to high and turned the fan on full and left it on. It was uncomfortably hot but the shivering man beside him seemed immune to the heat and so the stranger put his own needs aside.

 

As they drove away the stranger asked, “Are you okay?”

 

There was no reply and so no words were spoken for the rest of the drive. Neither man knew what the other was thinking but somehow there seemed time for answers. When they arrived at the stranger’s home, the deep, internal coldness had dissipated and the vagrant was feeling warmth. Still the stranger held him as he took him inside. He walked him directly to his bathroom but the moment he turned on the light and they walked in, the vagrant gasped and pulled away from the other man’s supportive hold.

 

The stranger watched as the other man left him and walked toward the mirror. It was an assertive forward movement, giving the impression of a man aggressively moving toward another man, a purpose of confrontation. The reflection of his eyes however, showed the shock and horror of what he had become. His hands ran over the beard and moustache and then combed through the knotted tangle of his hair.

 

From behind, the stranger watched dust and dirt fall out of the whiskers and hair to his tiled floor and then he said, “Would you like to trim it or shave it before you take a shower or a bath?”

 

The stranger saw the vagrant’s eyes swiftly search the mirror to find his reflection. The vagrant then looked at him with questioning eyes. There appeared a million questions within those eyes but after a moments thought the only thing the vagrant said was, “Why?”

 

Quite ironically, the stranger had not been expecting that question. Though it had not been asked with any motivation other than from a foundation of confusion, still the stranger felt deeply confronted by the question. Just for a moment before he answered, as the stranger looked into the vagrant’s eyes, the oddest of feelings ran through the stranger’s body. It was a sense of pain and sadness, of regret and despair, which he swiftly attributed to compassion for the vagrant.

 

“Everyone needs someone for whatever reason and I thought it was about time someone was there for you,” the stranger replied almost arbitrarily; however, at the same time, from deep in the annals of his mind, he vaguely noted something to do with obligation and repair.

 

The tears that welled within the vagrant’s eyes were complete and immediate. Two large tears, one from either eye, fell against the vagrant’s will, rolling the couple of inches before disappearing into the thick, black beard that masked his face. He was immediately embarrassed and he turned his face so his reflection could not be seen.

 

Dismissing the strange feelings toward the man and then attempting to change the subject and remove the emotional intensity, the stranger asked, “Shave or trim?”

 

Once the waters of need had receded, the vagrant found the stranger’s reflection again and he stared at him disbelievingly. He felt pathetic, unworthy and guilty for his choices but he also felt obligated to the stranger. He looked back at his own reflection. He knew he was thirty or at least somewhere in that vicinity and he thought that his animal-like appearance made him look closer to fifty. He was not sure of the date and so he was not certain of his exact age. He looked at the hair on his head and then at the hair all over his face and he wondered what he looked like beneath it all. His eyes moved back to the stranger’s eyes and with an instant decision he replied, “Both. I want it all gone and I want to see my face again.”

 

“Let me do it for you,” the stranger said after he glanced at the shaking hands. He walked out of the bathroom saying, “Just give me a minute and then we’ll get you cleaned up.”

 

Returning with a chair he sat his guest down. He cut and thinned out the mess of hair in an amateurish way and then he trimmed the moustache and beard almost to the skin, before giving him a clean shave. Using clippers, the stranger then gave the vagrant a buzz cut and suddenly, apart from the dirt, he was a completely different man.

 

When the stranger was finished cleaning up the hair from the floor and putting it in a bin, he looked at the vagrant again and he could not believe the man that was sitting in front of him. For a split second the stranger thought he must have seen this man on the streets at some time, based on a very vague sense of recognition. Still, as he looked at the very drawn face that seemed nearly skeletal and also eyes so empty and distant, the stranger did not let himself connect to the trove of experience buried deep within those same eyes. He said nothing about him, though. He simply turned and looked at him in the mirror and said, “Shower or bath?”

 

Staring at his face, which was now revealed after years of neglect, again the vagrant looked at the stranger disbelievingly before a moment later he answered, “Shower.”

 

The stranger helped the vagrant to his feet and as he attempted to help him undress, the old and torn clothing partially disintegrated as they removed it. The tattered materials were dropped to the floor in a pile and the stranger could not help but look at the near-naked male body beside him. Again he felt something deep inside of him in relation to the vagrant. Once again it was a vague sense, however, this time he attributed the feelings to attraction and under the circumstances, he pushed the feelings away.

 

Left with nothing other than briefs on the vagrant’s body, which looked moth eaten due to the amount of holes in them, the stranger simply said, “Will you be okay on your own to shower?”

 

Following an affirming nod of the head, the stranger then picked up the rags that had been clothing and left the man alone in the bathroom. He threw the clothes into the garbage and then went to his room. He found his largest sweat pants, sweat shirt and his biggest and baggiest t-shirt and then put them on the bed before leaving the room.

 

From outside the door the stranger asked, “Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah,” came the soft and less croaky reply.

 

“There are clothes for you to wear in the room directly across the hall. We’ll have to get you some more but they’ll do for the time being,” the stranger said.

 

“Thank you,” the vagrant replied but there was a pain in the tone of his voice that was obvious.

 

It was not a problem to say thank you, it was a feeling of guilt for needing to say thank you at all. He wept as he stood beneath the downpour of hot water. It felt so good to be bathing and to be clean-shaven but beneath the good was only bad.

 

In the time beneath the water and the wondrous feeling of soapy, cleansing lather, the vagrant was disturbed by thoughts and feelings, which buzzed inside like mosquitoes he could not dispel. These considerations were all in regard to the stranger. There was the sense of familiarity, the desperate hunger for the emotion the stranger brought to the surface and additionally, the thought of sexual attraction.

 

Analytically, the vagrant’s mind swiftly gave him answers. It was all about the humaneness of the stranger. It was his benevolence, his concern and his simple goodness and kindness. These displays were foreign to the vagrant and therefore easily contaminated into the wishes he had become accustomed to. He told himself it was similar to the way he dreamt of foolish desires.

 

The hope and curiosity still existed in spite of his rationalizations. The vagrant’s unachieved needs and his inaction to experience his desires, so easily made this man, this stranger, a potent possibility. Still, the vagrant knew as always, he would not act and the idea would evolve into fantasy. He thought he could fall in love with this stranger, with his handsomeness and with his unbelievable decency. However, then he wondered why the stranger would do this at all? He thought, “What does he want?”

 

When he was finally showered and he had dried himself off, he walked out of the bathroom wrapped in the thick, dark green towel. He stepped toward the room opposite but then with a second thought, he went looking for the other man.

 

Sitting on his couch in the living room, the stranger looked up as the vagrant walked into the room. Stopping just inside the doorway, he looked like a completely different person now that all the hair and dirt was gone. He was well over six feet tall but though his frame was enormous, his body showed obvious weight loss following years of lack of food. His musculature while obviously having once been defined, now appeared as in a state of decay.

 

For the most part his skin was a pale, pinkish-white all over. In some places it was an odd grey-like color, which made the stranger think the skin was unhealthy. Other than those variations, there were parts where the sun had found access. A small, odd shape of tanned skin where no hair had been on his face, centered like a birthmark around his eyes and nose. Some of his neck was tanned and his hands and forearms were deeply tanned as well but the rest of his body was pale.

 

The stranger knew that with some food, exercise and a good lifestyle, the vagrant could be what he had once been. He wondered what had happened to make this man, perhaps one of the most handsome men he had ever seen, allow himself to become what he had.

 

For a split second only, the stranger stared at the extremely weathered face. It was a face that seemed riddled by the ravages of time, consumed by stress and tension and no doubt years of angst. In that moment, the stranger sensed something, almost a recognition of something; however, it was a sense that led nowhere, as his eyes dropped to gaze at the uncovered male flesh. The sense vanished due to the lustful thoughts, as well as the thought they were inappropriate thoughts.

 

Again, just like in the bathroom when he had stood next to the almost naked vagrant, the stranger felt a quickening of his heart. His habitual thinking told him it was his long-accepted need for sex and lust and basic fucking. However, this new side to him or perhaps the re-emergence of his long ago disassembled self, told him as inexplicable as it seemed, he felt something for this purposeless prisoner of time, a feeling that made no sense. He felt he could love him. He wanted to laugh long and loud at the thought, however, few of his thoughts had been standard or regular in recent times.

 

Softly, the stranger asked, “Feeling better?”

 

The vagrant nodded but said nothing.

 

The stranger felt guilty for suddenly feeling attracted to the man but he could barely stop himself from looking at the chest and shoulders. Still he pushed the sexual thoughts away and asked, “Did you not hear me say there were clothes in the bedroom for you?”

 

Taking a single step only, the vagrant said, “I don’t get it, I mean, why? I don’t understand. I heard what you said before when I asked but still, what is it you want? What do you want from me? I’ll blow you for enough money to buy a packet of cigarettes and a bottle of Whiskey but that’s all, if that’s what you’re after?”

 

“No. Honestly, it’s not about anything like that,” the stranger said, even though as he looked at the almost naked man, it was very easy to imagine agreeing to the offer while offering his own ass for free. He knew from the perspective of physical attraction alone, he would have no hesitation in letting this man fuck him.

 

The vagrant moved farther into the room and then stopped and stood looking down at the man. He could not get the sense of familiarity out of his head but then he said, “Look, I’m not denying you’re a good man with the best of intentions but have you even considered what comes next? You’ve cut my hair, shaved my face and given me the ability to clean myself. I don’t know, maybe next you’ll want to feed me and give me the bed you mentioned so I can sleep but then what? When do you open the door and wish me well?”

 

The stranger looked at the vagrant and knew his practical side agreed with the man, however, he began to say before he was interrupted, “You’re right, I haven’t thought this through or considered the consequences but…”

 

“Look, maybe if you give me the clothes I could just leave and trust me, I’ll still be grateful for everything you’ve done for me,” the vagrant interjected.

 

“No. That isn’t what I want. I want you to stay, for as long as you need to and I don’t want you to go back out there onto the streets,” the stranger said.

 

“Why? Why do you care and what does it matter? Most of my life has been lived on the streets. I’m used to that world while this one that you’re offering me, well, I wouldn’t know how to face it,” the vagrant replied.

 

Again the stranger thought that in essence the vagrant was right or at least, in some way, affirming how he had been thinking and feeling for years. However, interrupting that train of thought, these new thoughts took control again and he said, “What do you mean why or what does it matter? Of course it matters. It matters to me now more than it ever has because I see that in closing myself off, I’ve taken everything for granted for the last twelve years of my life. I’ve made safe choices and self-protective choices and remained detached while ignoring everything that matters like it didn’t exist. Then yesterday morning I saw you in the alley and even though I was already beginning to come to my senses, you and your existence were like a bullet to the bone for me. It pushed so many thoughts and so many memories into my mind that I couldn’t sleep last night because of you. What I had seen hurt me like you couldn’t imagine. I knew how wrong it was and it made me hate myself and my safety.”

 

“So saving me is all about you, then? This is about saving yourself through me?”

 

“No… I mean, yes, I suppose, sort of. Then again, no. I don’t feel like I need to be saved as much as I feel a need to fix something inside of me while giving something back. I know I can’t save the world. I know I can’t go out every night and bring someone like you into my home. I know that whether I succeed or fail with you, I want to try. I want to help you if I can. Please, let me help you. There’ll be no expectations and no obligations. You can live here, come and go as you like and just know that every day or every night you have somewhere that you can go and be safe. Hell, if my world frightens you and if you want to, you’ll never have to go out into the world again. Let me help you and let me be your friend,” the stranger said.

 

The vagrant thought, “Be my friend,” before his next thought suggested, “There’s that fucking dream again.”

 

“I could be a murderer,” the vagrant said.

 

“Yes, you could be but your not,” the stranger replied.

 

“No, I’m not,” the vagrant agreed while shaking his head at the stranger’s trust and certainty.

 

“Go and get dressed, come back and I’ll make you something to eat,” the stranger said.

 

Pausing for a moment, the vagrant thought he was hungry and he could use a good sleep. He looked down at the man and as he once again felt the sense of familiarity, he nodded yes and then turned and left the room. When he returned he was fully clothed except for bare feet. It did not matter because though it had been cold outside, the inside of the house was temperature controlled and perfectly comfortable. He discovered the stranger in the kitchen. He was brewing coffee, which smelled wonderful.

 

The stranger looked up when the vagrant entered the room and said, “When was the last time you had a solid and proper meal?”

 

“I don’t know, maybe a week or more ago? I occasionally get a meal from a shelter but most of the time I scrounge and get by,” the vagrant said.

 

“It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to put something solid in your stomach immediately. Maybe we should start small and let your stomach become accustomed to good food again? How about some homemade soup and fresh bread?”

 

“Sure,” the vagrant replied.

 

Nothing was said as the stranger prepared the simple meal to feed the vagrant. He consumed the food quickly and washed it down hurriedly with his coffee. Within a few minutes of having a proper meal in his stomach, his eyes became incredibly heavy.

 

The stranger asked, “Are you all right?”

 

“Yeah, I guess so but I’m suddenly feeling incredibly tired,” the vagrant replied.

 

“I’m not surprised. Probably a food coma, well, that and partly to do with all the stress and now your clean and shaved and fed and under a warm and protected roof. Your body’s probably going into shutdown,” the stranger said.

 

The vagrant questioned, “Food coma?”

 

“Nothing to worry about. It’s what I call it when I get so tired after eating that I can’t keep my eyes opened. I imagine your body is in a bit of shock and wants to rest,” the stranger said before asking, “Would you like to go to bed?”

 

Still feeling uncertain, the vagrant was filled with doubts but he was so tired he nodded agreeably and allowed the stranger to lead him to the bedroom. Once there, the stranger helped him into bed fully clothed, covered him with a soft quilt and then as he was about to step outside of the room and close the door he said, “Sleep well and for as long as you want to or need to. Consider my home your home,” he added and then left the room.

 

The vagrant was stunned by the turn of events and by the extraordinary kindness of the man but almost immediately, his eyes dropped and a moment later he was sound asleep.

 

After cleaning up the mess in the kitchen, the stranger stood still, arms folded while resting against the kitchen bench. He thought about the man in his spare bedroom and he smiled. He thought he had done something good and right. Innately he understood what he was doing and why. He wanted to remove even the smallest amount of desperateness and loneliness from a life that was so far removed from his own. He had doubts about his ability to fix someone’s life when he had only recently begun to understand that his own life had been just a façade. He had done all the things that people in this modern world did. He had a good job that paid good money. He had bought a house and a car and he lived very well. He had no family anymore but he had come out as a gay man, he had some good friends and got laid regularly.

 

The stranger’s eyes fell and gazed at the kitchen floor. A silent voice that was not so much a voice as it was an admonishing thought, brought temporarily to life the guilty notion that he had never had a partner. He had devoted his energies in that department to sex and lust. He knew in spite of not wanting to admit it, his choice was a poor substitute for the emotions he yearned to set free, yet felt was impossible.

 

Forcibly dismissing the thoughts that were growing and becoming louder, he returned his mind to thoughts of the vagrant. He felt certain there was something more that was hidden in his mind, a greater reason for this choice he had made but still, he knew he did not have a clear or precise answer to why he was doing this. He decided, knowing that it really did feel good and right, it was all that really mattered.

 

Instantly he felt the tiredness, which had eluded him from the previous night, fall silently yet heavily upon his consciousness. He felt no uncertainty about having some strange and unknown man in his home and nor did he care that he was ready to go to bed in the first hours of daylight. He hoped making this choice could be the start of something new for him, an honest expression of self, a real beginning of living a life of letting things touch him, in a way he had failed to do for so many years.

 

Comfortably, he stepped forward and moved to the kitchen doorway and turned off the light. He walked directly to his bedroom, stripped and climbed into bed and with a vague curiosity about what would come of his choice and actions, he closed his eyes and drifted easily into sleep as well.

 

***

 

Following the deepest and heaviest, dreamless sleep he had experienced in approximately eight years, the vagrant was surprised when he awoke and saw the time on the bedside digital clock, displaying seven thirty-five PM. He threw the quilt back and as he went to move, he felt as if his body was stiff. He assumed he had passed out and not moved all day and that was why his joints felt the way they did. Sitting up with his legs hanging down, he swung his knee joints then his elbows and then rolled his shoulders. Regardless of this odd discomfort, he knew he still felt better than he had in nearly a decade. Even so, he also felt exhausted and like he could sleep a lot more.

 

Rising quietly, he stood and listened. The house was filled with silence. An incongruous sense filled him as he felt uncomfortable for being there but so grateful that he was. He thought he could stay for a while and that he would have to leave soon but still he was amazed at how relaxed his body felt.

 

Opening the bedroom door, he was immediately overpowered by the smell of food cooking. The aroma was wonderful and instantly his stomach rumbled hungrily with hopeful delight. He stepped across the hallway and entered the bathroom. He used the toilet, washed his face and hands and then prepared himself to face the kind man again. Quietly he made his way toward the living room.

 

The stranger looked up from one of the two, three-seat lounges that sat facing each other, with a long, blonde wood coffee table between. His smile was bright and his eyes sincere when he said, “Oh, hi, you’re awake. I hope you slept okay, are you hungry?”

 

The vagrant looked at the man for a moment. He was surprised by the friendly smile combined with a tentative or even apprehensive tone of voice. It sounded like even though the stranger was doing something so extraordinary, incongruously the stranger still thought he should be the one who should feel uncertain.

 

“Hi. Yeah, I woke up a few minutes ago and yes, I slept very well. Thanks,” the vagrant replied.

 

“I’m glad to hear that. I was thinking about you a short while ago and I imagined after sleeping the way you’re used to, sleeping in a bed might not feel comfortable at first,” the stranger said.

 

“No, not at all, in fact it was wonderful. I haven’t felt so comfortable in a long time. Strangely, though, I feel like I could go back to sleep if I let myself,” the vagrant said.

 

“Well, in a way that’s probably not unlike your body reacted to the food and warm home this morning, it probably is adjusting to the change and therefore wants more of what it’s getting. Oh shit, excuse my rudeness, please sit down and make yourself comfortable,” the stranger said.

 

“Thank you,” the vagrant replied and sat directly opposite the man.

 

“Would you like a coffee? I was just about to make myself another. I didn’t sleep last night and so I slept during today as well,” the stranger said.

 

“Sure. I mean that would be great. I’d love a coffee,” the vagrant replied.

 

The stranger smiled and said, “I hope you’re hungry. I’ve got a good meal cooking for you. Well for both of us actually but I’m hoping after the bread and soup this morning, tonight you’ll be able to stomach roast beef and some steamed vegetables?”

 

The vagrant looked embarrassed but said, “It sounds incredible and I’d love some.”

 

“Great. I’m so pleased to hear that,” the stranger said and then he stood and walked quickly to the kitchen.

 

The vagrant waited and as he did, he thought how once again he felt there was something familiar about the man. It was very strange because when he looked at him he was certain he did not know him but every time he glanced at him or began to feel relaxed with him, he felt the feeling again.

 

“Here you go, fresh brewed coffee. I remembered from this morning that you drank yours the same way I drank mine, white with two sugars.”

 

“Yeah, that’s right,” the vagrant replied but as he stared into the man’s silky, brown eyes, he felt an odd knot in his chest and almost a sense of recognition.

 

“Is everything all right? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost,” the stranger said.

 

“No, I mean yeah, um, everything’s fine. Thank you for this and for everything you’re doing for me. I’m truly grateful,” the vagrant said.

 

“You’re very welcome,” the stranger replied.

 

The vagrant picked up his coffee and took a drink, his eyes flicking left and right as he took in everything in sight in the room.

 

The stranger said, “Can I ask you a question?”

 

“Sure,” the vagrant replied.

 

“How did you come to be living on the streets?”

 

“Oh, that’s a big question with a very long answer and though I appreciate what you’re doing for me, I don’t think I’m ready to go there just yet,” the vagrant replied.

 

“No, of course your not. Excuse my insensitivity. I guess I’m just very curious but you can tell me when you’re ready or not tell me at all if you choose. It’s up to you and there are no obligations,” the stranger said, though disappointedly.

 

Nodding agreeably the vagrant said, “Thank you.”

 

The stranger, who was feeling very uncertain how to approach this man, had been hoping to initiate a conversation and learn about him. However, now that he had received the dismissive response, he even felt doubt about asking the vagrant his name. He thought names and introductions were the most basic and expected of the social etiquettes but still he now thought that he should give this man some time.

 

“I was thinking, if you’re interested, we could watch a movie and eat our meals in front of the television while we do,” the stranger said.

 

“Sure,” the vagrant replied.

 

Silence fell between the men as they sat and stared in different directions, an uncomfortable pause while not knowing what to say. Coincidently, though, both men were thinking similar thoughts. They were both thinking that each found the other attractive, in more than just the “I’d like to tap that,” kind of way.

 

For the vagrant, there was an old imagining, a fantasy of being with a man, living with a man and loving a man, all taking place in a quiet, personal space. He thought that if this were that fantasy he would stand, cross to the other couch and sit beside him and hold him in his arms and kiss him.

 

For the stranger, his standard thoughts of getting a man naked with him and then fucking the night away was not unusual. What was unusual, however, was the new thought, one of the many new thoughts that were constantly interfering with his peace of mind. He considered talking to the man, getting to know the man and sharing many more times like that together. He felt relief when he heard the sound that tore him loose from his overwhelming thoughts.

 

The sound of an oven timer buzzing from the kitchen pulled the stranger back into his reality and he stood and excused himself to go and get their meals. When he returned, he placed the meals side-by-side on the coffee table and told the vagrant to move across to the opposite couch. Walking behind the couch where the vagrant had originally sat, he inserted a DVD into a player, turned on an enormous, widescreen television that was mounted on the wall and then he returned and sat beside him to eat and watch a movie.

 

After they had eaten, the stranger was quite pleased to see that the vagrant was becoming more relaxed and looked less stiff and uncertain. With their legs outstretched and their feet on the coffee table, they sat in silence and watched the film, ‘What Dreams May Come.’ When the film was finally over and the credits had begun to roll, the stranger turned and glanced across, only to discover that the vagrant was once again asleep.

 

For a few minutes the stranger sat and simply stared at the face of the sleeping vagrant. It was becoming more obvious each time he looked at this man; something about the man was causing him to unravel, causing him to feel like he was becoming more distant from himself and yet, closer to himself. It really was an unsettling feeling. It made him so aware that he wanted to look after the vagrant, to nurture him and care for him and all of this in spite of his attraction to him.

 

The stranger shook his head in regard to what he thought were his nonsensical thoughts and then stood up and turned off the television and DVD player. He then removed the dinner plates and coffee mugs to the kitchen. He cleaned up and then returned to the living room and gently woke the vagrant, suggesting he go to bed.

 

Agreeably, he accepted the stranger’s help to lift his heavy, barely conscious body from the couch and also, to be led back into the bedroom. This time, though, with two very swift actions, the vagrant stripped off the t-shirt and dropped his sweat pants to the floor. Sleeping naked was not something he had ever done but he recalled a vague thought from his previous sleep in this bed, a feeling the sweats were twisted and a little uncomfortable. He did not think of the stranger’s reaction, he simply did it and then slid beneath the quilt. He then felt the stranger pull the quilt up to his shoulders and begin to move away.

 

“Sleep well,” the stranger said and after a quiet, “You too,” the stranger turned off the light, pulled the door almost closed and left the vagrant already sleeping peacefully.

 

***

 

Having slept for nearly six hours during the day, it was well after midnight, probably closer to one in the morning when the stranger finally went to bed. He was not overly tired but he knew he needed to realign his sleeping habits following the previous night and day and so he decided to force himself to get some nighttime sleep.

 

For around twenty minutes he lay while thinking about the vagrant before sleep finally took him. He thought he had to stop fantasizing about him, he had to stop these uncharacteristic emotional thoughts and he also had to treat the man with respect and less like a victim. Still he kept imagining the vagrant’s hand wrapped around his rigid cock.

 

A couple hours later the stranger’s eyes opened abruptly to see the clock staring back at him, the display showing three twenty-three in the morning. He heard the sound again and registered it had been that sound that had awoken him. It was a groan but it was not a good sound. It was disturbed, perhaps frightened and he sat up and listened in the silence for a possible repeat.

 

Another sound came but this time it was louder, a gasping sound, the type of sound he would imagine someone would make if they were being strangled. It was a frightening sound and a moment later he remembered the vagrant in his spare room. Naked and without thought the stranger jumped out of his bed and ran out of his room and into the other bedroom.

 

The room was filled with heavy darkness but still the stranger could see the quilt twisting and flailing about as the gasping, strangled noises became louder. He flicked on the light and saw what looked like a wrestling match taking place beneath the cover. He moved swiftly to the bed and grabbed the top seam of the quilt, pulling it down until he saw the vagrant kicking and punching at nothing.

 

The stranger sat down and wondered how to stop this without becoming victim to a wild punch from a man who was completely unaware of what he was doing. The vagrant rolled onto his side and screamed a word that could have been a name but was unclear. The stranger then leaned forward, pressing his chest over the vagrant’s back and arm while wrapping his arms around the body to subdue its volatile movements.

 

“Wake up,” the stranger called.

 

A moment of silence and stillness occurred before the vagrant said, “What? What?”

 

“You were dreaming or having a nightmare,” the stranger said as he released the man and sat back up.

 

The vagrant rolled over, pushed his body back into a seated position with a shocked look on his face but then he remembered the dream. It had been another bizarre dream. This time he had been struggling so hard to move but his feet were frozen to the ground. He had been trying to call out but his voice would not work. He could see the silhouette of someone in the distance walking away. He had felt he had to move, he had to run and had to get to somewhere he did not know, all to find someone he could not remember. The only thing he had been sure of was that he was breaking and if he did not get free of being caught like a bug in amber, he would shrivel into nothing, never to be seen again. The extreme nature of his emotions within the dream, pushed across into his waking state and his eyes brimmed with tears that did not flow.

 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you,” the vagrant said.

 

“It’s okay. We all have our nightmares occasionally,” the stranger said and put his hand on the vagrant’s shoulder to comfort him. The moment he squeezed it warmly, the tears broke free and the vagrant’s emotions were unleashed.

 

Deep pain was obvious and the stranger moved closer, pulled the vagrant into his arms and held him with all the protectiveness he could offer. The vagrant’s arms surrounded the stranger and added to their embrace. For the next several minutes, in the early hours of the morning, in the quiet of a large and usually unused bedroom, two men unknowingly felt a synchronous release of self. One man, the stranger, felt sexual attraction growing from a place of emotion rather than lust, for what seemed like the first time in his life. The other man, the vagrant, felt a desperate need to give himself to sexual abandon, believing that he could never know love.

 

Within those minutes, as the vagrant felt his naked body pressed against another man’s naked body, as well as the man’s arms holding him like he mattered; the vagrant became aware of a feeling that he could barely comprehend. He felt like he would dissolve within the kind and caring embrace. He thought the warm touch of the other man’s skin against his was so sensual, he might crumble if it continued. His mind, though, was glued to the feeling of the chest on his chest and the caress of the fingers on his back.

 

A moment later, though, those feelings and subsequent thoughts, moved to a place he had only come close to as a teenager. He had thought, imagined and fantasized these things, however, he had not really experienced them like this before. He knew instantly he wanted this handsome, kind man to be his first man ever.

 

The hunger for sex grew with astonishing speed. The vagrant was bone hard, his body was getting hot and behind his closed eyes he imagined the stranger’s cock was hard as well. The vagrant could not remember wanting someone this much, except for the men from his dream.

 

Suddenly, with the dream vision in his head, along with the man in his arms, the vagrant became uninhibited and he slid his hand down and around the male body against him. Feeling the hardness he was desperately hoping would be there, he sighed with relief that it was. With satisfaction he encircled his hand around the erection of the stranger and seconds later the men were kissing. Minutes later they were rolling in a heated embrace, cocks and skin and lips and tongues, wildly searching and seeking for that individual something, from another without name, without knowledge and without power.

 

The stranger slid his fingertips all over the vagrant. There was no hesitation as he felt how much the vagrant wanted him. Regardless of the occasional feeling of skin and bone in close proximity, still there was the existence and a definition of once prominent muscle, within the frame of the diminished body.

 

The vagrant was enlivened by the stranger’s growing wantonness and then the sudden yet hungry kiss, which he launched upon the stranger’s lips, was returned with equal fervor. Grinding hard against each other as they twisted and pressed in a quest for more of their tactile connection, in less than a few minutes they were each at a point of an almost carnivorous desire.

 

Thrusting the stranger onto his back with a strength that seemed unlikely and an assertiveness that the stranger loved, the vagrant moved with extraordinary speed and his mouth opened wide to receive the thickness and length standing proud. The vagrant’s lips closed around the large, circumcised erection and he moaned with satisfaction, almost lovingly, as he did something he had never done without payment, to someone he actually wanted to do it to.

 

The cock in his mouth was thick and hard and he enjoyed it and gave every effort to make what he was doing enjoyable in return. As he slid his lips up and down the shaft, he ran his tongue over the crest of the cock, licking at the sweetness of the pre-come that seeped relentlessly, like a soft and silky topping. He moaned even more as his enjoyment of the handsome cock continued to increase. These feelings were pushing him toward a greater need to make it feed him. He wanted it and needed it and for the first time ever, he was actually turned on by it.

 

The stranger was moaning in response but as much as he loved what the vagrant was doing to him, he also knew he was bringing him to the edge, far too quickly. He reached down and placed his hand on his black hair and said, “Stop, I want this to last and you’re driving me crazy. I want you to do this but let’s make this last, as well as equal. On your back, hot stuff,” he ordered.

 

The vagrant was not particularly happy with giving the man his cock back but he nodded and as he rolled onto his back he heard, “Holy shit, man, that’s one beautiful, big cock!” The vagrant turned to look at the stranger’s face but the expression belied what he was expecting. The stranger was smiling and was very pleased, as he moved toward the big cock like it was a gift. The vagrant smiled, laid his head on the pillow and he sighed with contentment as the stranger devoured him.

 

When the vagrant finally felt the stranger bringing him close, he opened his eyes just in time to see the stranger release him to say, “Okay, now let’s satisfy each other.” Twisting around on the bed, moments later both of their mouths were full and their arms were around bodies and hands were caressing skin.

 

For the longest time, at least for as long as both men could maintain control, they feasted on each other’s cock. While the grazing of fingers, the squeezing of bodies and the scraping of fingernails on smooth flesh were additives to the rising passions and desires, nothing could trump each man’s mouth giving or each man’s cock receiving. There was a sense on both parts that they were designed for each other and so there was little either could do or wanted to do, when both men’s breathing began to hitch and their bodies began to twitch. This was sex and hungry sex at that but it was initiated and continued from deeply emotional places. What each was feeling made the other feel more and then during the sounds of closed mouth swallowing, there were the spasms and then the quivering and then the groans of delicious satisfaction. The men fell off each other and rolled onto their backs, gasping for more oxygen.

 

The vagrant was the first to move, spinning his body around before he was on top of the stranger, his lips pressing until his tongue was entering. The stranger’s arm surrounded the vagrant’s body again and as he held him firm and squeezed him amidst the intensifying kiss, he felt a second wind that was growing all too swiftly. When he heard yet more of the desperately hungry moans passing from the vagrant’s mouth into his own, he grabbed the man’s head with both hands, forcibly broke their kiss and he said, “There are condoms and lube in that drawer, I want you inside of me. I need you to fuck me, now.”

 

The stranger was lying on his back, his legs around the vagrant’s waist, as the vagrant began the first press. For the stranger, the sight of the approaching erection was both unsettling and yet the most exciting thing. He felt the level of his desire lift to some place of starvation and before he even felt it touch him, he yelled for the vagrant to fill him and to make him belong to him.

 

The vagrant was equally caught up in the passion and desire of the multitude of feelings being created between them. His eyes said yes and his expression said yes, even though this was to be the first time he would penetrate a man. As he looked down upon one of the hottest and sexiest men he had ever seen, he saw the overwhelming look in the stranger’s eyes. They were filled with what he assumed would be sexual hunger but it was the way the stranger was looking into his eyes, something about the substance behind those eyes, which seemed to be speaking to him in a way that was not just sexual.

 

This was all new to him, though. It was not like making some random guy blow into his mouth, spitting it out and then taking the cash and walking to a liquor store and forgetting about it. The eyes of those men did not care. They just wanted to come in a man’s mouth. These eyes, though, these eyes were different. They were making his heart pound and he wanted to give them whatever they were asking for, hell, he felt ready to give those eyes anything they asked for.

 

Finally, his body touched the stranger’s body. The vagrant was completely inside of him. He began to move, rolling his hips slowly, watching part of his shaft appear and then disappear. He did this for a few minutes but then when he eventually glance back into those dreamy, brown eyes again, the vagrant felt emotion fill his chest and he wanted to lift him into his arms, press him against his body and kiss him hard while he made love to him.

 

Increasing his rhythm as he tried to stop all these unusual feelings and replace them with thoughts of sex, soon he was pumping hard, rubbing his hands over the stranger’s chest and struggling to break the connection between their eyes.

 

The vagrant was really fucking the stranger now and he was sweating like crazy as he gave this man his all. Spontaneously at first but soon more consistently, the stranger began crying out to him to fuck him or to fuck him harder or to give him that huge cock deep and hard. The vagrant had never even imagined such words because he was a virgin with men after all. Still, he knew now he was no longer a virgin and he launched himself into trying to give this man whatever he thought he wanted.

 

For nearly an hour he fucked this man with every ounce of endurance he could muster. They moved into different positions, as he fucked him on his back, on his side, on his belly, and also while standing up or while kneeling on the bed. He fucked him doggy style as well, however, when he pushed him down onto his back once more and he looked into those dreamy eyes yet again, all the vagrant knew was that he had to be against him, he had to kiss him and he had to hold him for as long as this time would allow.

 

He lowered his body down on top of the stranger. With every cell of their skin that touched and every graze of their nipples or even the feeling of the hard dripping cock of the stranger digging into his gut, it increased his need and he forced his arms beneath and around him before he crushed him. Amidst those moments, moments he wondered if this was another dream, the vagrant fucked the stranger and kissed him in a way he thought he would never get the chance to do again.

 

It was magic.

 

Time stopped, the world stopped spinning and the horrors of life no longer existed. All that existed for the vagrant was this man, the feeling of his body, the desire of his kiss and also all these emotions in his own chest. These emotions and feelings would not stop and they simply would not go away. He was aching in a way that filled him and suddenly his chest was at breaking point and his throat contained a mysterious stone that caused him to feel like he wanted to cry. In fact, these feelings seemed to be growing, making him wonder if this was what it was like when someone was falling in love.

 

The vagrant did not believe that. He could not believe that. How could a man fall in love with someone he did not know and particularly this quickly? It did not seem valid or right or true but then he thought, “What would I know of life or love?”

 

Breaking the kiss he began to kiss down the stranger’s neck and then along his shoulder. Reversing, he moved back the other way before kissing up his throat. He closed his eyes and he inhaled a deep breath, as this single kiss to the throat became one with the unending roll of his hips into the depths of this man’s magnificent body. The vagrant was practically in a dream, as every action merged with every other action. A hot yet wonderful shot of pleasure, moved from his head to his toes, when he heard the words that came on stilted breaths.

 

“Stay with me. Don’t go back to the streets. If I’m not already, I know I’ll fall in love with you,” the stranger said.

 

With those words the vagrant exploded inside the stranger and the stranger exploded between them and a new and equal kiss ravished in a need to maintain this inexplicable moment forever.

 

When their spasms ended the vagrant lifted his head and looked into those brown eyes again. As he stared back at the vagrant the stranger said, “I don’t ever want to not look into those intense, blue eyes again. I’m yours if you’ll have me and I want you to be mine as well.”

 

The vagrant lowered his head and kissed the stranger again. Moments later, as they lay amidst seed and sweat and love and reverie, they fell into dreams, body-to-body and locked in possibility.

 

***

 

For the first time in a very long time, the vagrant experienced a new and very different dream. He was with the stranger from start to end and they were in love. It was a magical dream of perfect times. Even though within the dream the vagrant believed such perfection could never exist, still he bathed in the happiness, smiles, sensuality and the passion. They visited an amusement park, they snuggled on a couch watching a romantic movie and they made love so many times. For the short time that the dream continued, it was what he had always imagined and hoped for. His consciousness was aware within his subconscious and though he did not really believe such a thing could happen for him, still he clung to the dream and hoped it would never end.

 

***

 

Several hours later, the eyes of the stranger were the first to open. The vagrant was lying on his back and the stranger’s face was lying on the vagrant’s chest, their arms holding each other in a lovers embrace. He lifted his head and gazed upon the sleeping face. He could not believe how handsome the vagrant was, now that the skin of the streets was gone. He also could not believe what had happened, how exceptional it had been or how it had made him feel. He was certain he had fallen in love with this man.

 

Trying to be practical, the stranger questioned if it was nothing more than pity wrapped by beauty and not love at all? He delved within and around his mind and heart but no matter what reasons he tried to create, still his heart wanted this sleeping man and he knew he did not want to let him go.

 

As the thought went through the stranger’s mind, the vagrant’s eyes opened slowly and he looked back at him and smiled. The incredibly sharp and deep blue eyes seemed to drill into the stranger’s soul and he smiled back almost breathlessly.

 

Yet again, the vagrant felt the overwhelming sense that he knew this man somehow or from somewhere. He was still certain he was wrong but the thought and the feeling kept coming back.

 

“I can’t believe how I feel about you,” the stranger said, seemingly from out of nowhere.

 

The vagrant said, “Wait, are you telling me what you said earlier, you meant it and you still feel that way?”

 

The stranger replied, “Yeah, most definitely I do. Why, does that bother you?”

 

“No, it doesn’t bother me. Truthfully, it validates the feelings I’m feeling for you. It’s just that I didn’t know it could happen like this, I mean, so fast,” the vagrant said and then after a thoughtful pause he added, “Some part of me is afraid to let go of you.”

 

“Then don’t let go of me because I don’t want you to. Sometimes we need to take things one step at a time, every step leading to another step but occasionally, no steps are required and things just happen,” the stranger said but then he saw the oddest look on the vagrant’s face and so he asked, “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing. It’s just what you said. This might sound strange but I had this dream a couple of nights ago and someone in the dream said something similar to that,” the vagrant replied. “Actually,” he continued unexpectedly, “We haven’t met, have we? I mean we haven’t met before?”

 

“No. Well not that I’m aware of or that I remember. Actually, we haven’t even formally met because I thought you weren’t willing to reveal anything about yourself. Still, I think after what we’ve shared and how I’m already feeling about you, I guess there’s no time like the present,” the stranger said and then he sat up.

 

The vagrant pushed his body into a seated position, his back against the headboard as he looked back into the stranger’s eyes.

 

Considering the oddness of having the vagrant in his home for nearly twenty-four hours and neither of them knowing the other’s name, the stranger grinned from his own bemusement and then finally said, “Hi, I’m Dan and I’m very pleased to meet you.”

 

Twelve years rolled back at warp speed and came to a grinding halt with a picture of a crying, seventeen year old boy, wrapped in Nick’s arms. He thought it had to be impossible but as he looked at Dan’s face, he could see within the mature, twenty-nine year old face, the boy was looking back.

 

This situation was so strange and unsettling for Nick. For all the years that had fallen into the past, the picture in his head had remained the same. It had always been that young, enticing boy, the sweet soul who had come to him on that long ago night and who over their years together had stolen his heart. Now he was several inches taller, bigger and so much older. He looked so completely different. He did not look old; he just looked like someone else. Irrespective, Nick was stunned and horrified at the same time and he pulled back and sideways, a reaction that made it seem like Dan was contagious and would infect him.

 

The word that left Nick’s mouth existed somewhere between a question and a statement but also, somewhere between a yell and a gasp when he said, “No!”

 

Dan looked back, his eyes and face disturbed at the deepest level but then bathed in a gasp of breath he asked, “What’s wrong?”

 

Nick was still staring intensely. He knew it was true even though the boys face no longer really existed. Nick wondered what he must look like to Dan and whether Dan would even recognize him. After what he had seen in the bathroom in the early morning, even he had barely recognized himself. He gazed at those silky, brown eyes. It was there he could really see Dan but even the eyes seemed different, somewhat distant and somehow not quite as warm as he remembered them.

 

“Danny, is that you?”

 

Dan looked at the man who had called him a name that only one other person had called him in his life. He stared into those eyes and suddenly he recognized them. He looked at the handsome face that lay beneath the cruelty of life. He could see him but he thought it had to be impossible. He could hear the silent words of his screaming thoughts, asking if this could be Nick? How he wanted to believe it but how the notion terrified him.

 

Remembering the feeling he had felt in the bathroom in the early hours of yesterday morning, Dan thought it made sense. Unconsciously, his right arm lifted and his hand moved forward, his fingers shaking as they stretched apprehensively toward the face. He did not even realize he was doing it, his eyes frozen upon the eyes, his heart pounding, his consciousness astonished but struggling to accept the plausibility of such a truth.

 

When his eyes caught sight of his fingers approaching the skin of the man’s face, Dan pulled his arm back, fear and guilt exploding inside of him, self-hatred for never going back to find Nick and resenting himself for running away in the first place. He knew, in that moment, with absolute certainty, it was the reason he had tried to rescue a vagrant from the streets. He had been trying to forgive himself for what he had done, some pointless attempt to make up for his choices and actions.

 

Suddenly, Dan could not breathe. Abruptly he turned and stood up from the bed and then as swiftly as he could, he moved out of the bedroom and into his own room, flicking on the light as he raced to get to a drawer. He pulled it open and rummaged for the spray he had not needed in years.

 

Appearing at the door and looking in, Nick stared as Dan put the asthma spray to his mouth and squeezed it twice. He listened to the sound as the airy puffs of medication were expelled into his mouth while synchronously Dan struggled to inhale to breathe it in.

 

Leaning on the open drawer with his head bent and his body slouched, Dan waited a few moments and then suddenly he inhaled deeply through his open mouth, clarity that he was able to breathe more easily again.

 

Unexpectedly, Dan felt Nick’s naked chest press against his naked back and then from top to bottom their bodies touched. He felt Nick’s hands sliding around his waist and then the large arms completely embracing him. Dan’s heart was dying while it felt like it was going to explode with love at the same time. Dan then felt teardrops falling on his shoulder and chest, as well as the wetness on his cheek when Nick pressed his cheek to his.

 

Lifting his head to look in the mirror on top of the dresser, Dan stared into the reflection of the memorable blue eyes, which were gazing so deeply into his. He watched the array of emotions within those eyes and he hoped beyond hope that something of what he was seeing in the man he was begging really was Nick, would come close to what he was feeling inside.

 

In a cracking voice Nick said, “It is you, isn’t it, Dan?”

 

Dan started to cry. He could not forgive himself for the past and he could not believe what had occurred within the last twenty-four hours. Now he could not fathom that Nick was holding him and seemed to be forgiving him. He nodded and whispered, “Yes!”

 

Nick turned Dan around in his arms and while gripping his shoulders and staring deeply into his eyes he said, “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

 

Dan said, “How can you say that after what I did?”

 

“Dan, only minutes ago it mattered but now it’s you and so now it doesn’t matter.”

 

Dan asked in a regretful voice, “Have you been on the streets since I left?”

 

Nick nodded, his eyes glancing away thoughtfully for just a moment, knowing Dan’s departure and loss had been the event that halted him and somehow never let him move forward. He did not blame Dan because Nick thought it was his own fault and that he had been weak. He looked back into Dan’s eyes and while dismissing all the years from that night until this night, he asked, “Did you really mean what you said earlier, before you knew who I was?”

 

Dan’s eyes filled with understanding of what Nick was asking him. Somehow it seemed inappropriate after what he had done. Still he knew it was true, he knew he had fallen head over heels in love with a man and that only now did he know that man was Nick. He nodded.

 

“Dan, my Danny, I never stopped loving you,” Nick said.

 

Dan burst into silent tears, knowing that when he finally healed after Julia, he had realized he still loved Nick. Still, in the months that followed after going to the authorities, after going to Julia’s funeral and going back to his mother, he had changed. He had never been able to face his guilt about Nick or to go in search of him and to try and explain and make things right. Instead, he had forged a new persona, created a fabricated and untouched world, a world of walls that had begun to crumble in the last few months.

 

“I never stopped loving you, either,” Dan replied through his tears.

 

Nick pulled Dan to him, his hand on Dan’s head, as he pressed the matured face against his shoulder. He knew there were so many things he did not understand and that he wanted to understand, however, he thought that all that really mattered, at least for now, was that Dan was back in his arms.

 

Holding Dan and feeling his completely different, large, naked, masculine body, Nick thought the extraordinary intensity of his love for a stranger, which had grown in less than twenty-four hours, into feelings of such magnitude he had never experienced even with Dan, the feelings had to be because the love of two boys had never been given a chance. In that instant, he was certain that given the chance now, considering everything, now they could love and live and be all that they could have and should have been.

 

Nick asked, “Do you really still love me, Dan?”

 

“Nick, I loved you only days after I met you. On that day at the lake, though, that was the day I knew I was falling in love with you. I didn’t tell you when I came into the shower with you but that time in your arms sleeping with you, when I woke up I knew I wanted to stay in your arms forever. If it hadn’t been for Spider and Caesar and what happened and the way I felt so lost and out of control, I know, well, at least I’ve known for the past twelve years, I always thought I would’ve stayed with you forever. There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by that I haven’t thought about you and wanted to search for you but I felt so guilty for leaving the way I did. I was certain you must have hated me and that you never would’ve forgiven me. I’m so sorry and yes, I still love you, Nick.”

 

Nick’s heart felt fuller than it had ever felt. He knew he was desperately in love with this man, especially now that the stranger was not a stranger at all. He pulled Dan closer, holding him tighter and then he crushed him with love and need. He thought that though he had never been able to truly grasp Dan’s need to leave, still he had never hated him or resented him and that he had always hoped he would one day come back to him. Now, though, life had brought them together again and he wondered if this was a choice that Dan would actually make?

 

“Dan, do you want me back in your life?”

 

“Nick, I don’t just want you in my life. Right now, I know I need you in my life,” Dan replied.

 

Nick’s heart and his mind whirled with a relief he would never have believed would be possible. He wanted to open his mouth and swallow Dan whole to make certain he would never be separated from him again. He had him back and he knew he would do everything to keep him. He felt his cock begin to thicken and grow hard and he knew his life had finally changed. He gripped Dan’s head with both hands, pushed it back in front of him and he kissed Dan with all the love and passion and happiness he had to offer.

 

***

 

Hours later, after the men had returned to bed, this time to Dan’s bed, Nick made love to Dan with every ounce of what was left of him. Dan, in response, made love to Nick with all of both the old and the new feelings that were merging into a bursting yet healing heart. Unlike earlier in the spare room, in Dan’s bedroom every moment was slow and sensual and soft, a tender exploration of bodies and souls, emotional passion exploding at their cores.

 

Following, Dan gave a brief explanation of how he had felt all those years ago. He explained how confused and lost and empty he had felt as a boy and of how an allure of some twisted normalcy of life made him fear to return to the streets, despite the ache in his heart for Nick. He continued that there had not been a day he had not almost returned, even after the immature boy had grown into a man. Dan struggled with his words that came from a place locked in boyhood while the tone of his voice exuded a pleading for forgiveness.

 

Finally, like some variation of a replay of a long ago occurrence, Nick held a sleeping Dan in his arms, pressed firmly against his body. Nick had said the words that Dan needed to hear. He had forgiven him and the release and relief conquered him until he fell asleep exhausted.

 

Nick also felt tired but somehow he just could not sleep. All he could think about was how happy he felt to have Dan back in his arms. He lay there kissing the dark, auburn hair, sliding his fingers over the smooth skin, knowing he loved him so much while still a little shocked that this had happened at all. Eventually he told himself that the incomprehensible nature of what had occurred did not matter and that he would just hold Dan and he would love him for as long as he could.

 

As Nick glanced at the clock and realized it was almost dawn and that despite how tired he was, he was still awake, suddenly he found his mind remembering the dream from two nights ago. Initially it was just the part where he had been unable to sleep and where he had risen from bed at dawn.

 

The dream was still so clear in his mind and he remembered the whole story. In a way, though much of it had been wonderful, he still found it strange it had ended so sadly. The characters were slowly becoming vague but even though it was only a dream, he felt a sense he would miss them.

 

Nick remembered the kind yet gorgeous hunk named Eric. He remembered the sweet and cute boyfriend named Billy and he remembered all the odd yet reasonable events that had occurred right up until that wonderful party. “Damn, it was so real,” he thought.

 

It was, on account of that thought, Nick suddenly wondered if any part of it could possibly, actually be real? He thought that though in the dream he had been twenty-seven and in reality he was actually thirty, what if there was a chance that there was a woman named Mary in that house on that street in Boston? What if his father was in California and not only gay but also a truly nice man? What were the chances that though he was with Dan and he wanted to be with Dan forever, maybe this new life that was just beginning, could be even more than he hoped it would be.

 

There was a certainty in Nick’s mind because he actually had almost made the choice to leave the pack and begin a new and true life. He had indeed walked away but instead of finding the football field and instead of getting a job, his doubts, loneliness and grief from the loss of Dan, had seen him chose to become a vagrant who existed alone away from the pack. A single choice really had changed everything.

 

Nick said, “Maybe I should go back to the orphanage and see if that box exists?”

 

Dan’s eyes opened from sleep to the voice and he said, “What? Are you okay, Nick?”

 

“Yeah, Dan, I’m fine. I was just thinking about our future together,” Nick said.

 

“I like the sound of that,” Dan said.

 

Nick smiled, leaned forward and kissed Dan. The kiss continued for a long time until the heat between them became so hot, Nick said, “Dan, I want you again.”

 

“Nick, I’m yours and you can have me anytime you want me,” Dan replied.

 

Nick rolled his naked body over and on top of Dan’s and he kissed him again. Dan’s arms surrounded Nick’s large body and as yet another kiss ended, Dan reached between them and curled his fingers around Nick’s huge cock.

 

“Nick, after learning several times last night what you could do with this thing, well, considering that, as well as how in love with you I am, how could I not want to be with you and give myself to you every chance I get. I caused the loss of so many years and I’ll do anything to make up for that,” Dan said.

 

“Dan, you don’t owe me anything, there’s nothing for you to apologize for and all I ask of you is this. Love me and let me love you and stay with me and let me stay with you, for as long as we can allow it to be.”

 

“With every beat of my heart, I promise,” Dan agreed.

 

Nick glanced over at the window and saw the sun was beginning to rise. He turned with a dream in mind and looked at Dan and said, “I love you, Dan” and then he pulled Dan closer and began to make love to him, believing this sunrise was about a beginning and not about an end.

 

The End.

 

This work is dedicated to Kym and Karl, without whose generosity of spirit and also a rare foundation, it could not have been begun, continued or completed. Thank you.