Death's Muse

Chapter Seven;

Three days later, the snow had finally let up and for the most part had melted away. The sun arose, heating the earth back up as much as it could since it was winter. It wasn't warm, but it also wasn't frigid anymore. The river that was frozen solid only a few days prior finally thawed back to it's raging glory. White caps ran over rocks, and the sounds of rushing water could be heard even up on the bridge inside a car.

Mikey strolled past casually, feeling light and even as close as the man could get to being happy. In the past three days after the incident with his finger, Mikey had gotten a call from the art collector he knew. The art collector had been interested in buying from Mikey again since he had back in his college days. He had paid Mikey a visit the following day and bought Mikey's painting of Frank in nearly as soon as he saw it. A part of Mikey wondered if he only bought it because of how beautiful Frank actually is. Anybody would be proud to display such an attractive painting in their home.

It was nice in the park. Mikey sat down on the edge of the large fountain. He wasn't sure why, but that just seemed like a good place to sit. The sun felt nice of his very pale skin, and he turned his face upright to embrace it for a moment. It had been three days since his last contact with Frank or Armando. Armando had been trying to call him, but Mikey knew better and his phone had been off the entire time. He shuddered to think of what sort of voice-mails Armando had left for him when he finally decided to turn it back on.

However, it HAD been several days since the last time he had seen his boyfriend. He pitied Armando, and most of all, Mikey's sexual frustration was threatening to kill him. Sometimes, late at night, Mikey would open the picture of Frank on his phone, which he had yet to delete. It wasn't the same, but it was better than nothing.

Armando wasn't even good at pleasing Mikey. Mikey was just that desperate. It was rather sad, really.

Mikey was enjoying the solitude as he sat on the fountain, book open on his leg, fingers grazing along the pages. Mikey loved to read, but he rarely could find the will to anymore. Most of the time he had was spent wallowing in his own unhappiness. Now, he felt good, and one of his favorite books, A Clockwork Orange, was open on his leg. He could remember the first time he read this book when he was junior in high school. The sheer villainy of the main character in the book had absolutely appalled him when he was younger, and half of the young man had found it hard to believe that somebody that evil could even exist in the world.

But as he grew older, Mikey began to comprehend that the world wasn't as fluffy as he had expected.

He hadn't been there for long when soft footsteps were approaching. Mikey could only think of three possibilities of who it could be. Armando, Aniese, or Frank, and to be quite honest, he didn't want to see a single one of them. Mikey thought if he didn't raise his head, whomever it was would get the hint and walk away. He desperately hoped so, but whoever it was stood there rigidly for a moment before clearing their throat loudly.

Mikey raised his head, squinting in the sun to see Armando standing a foot away, clad in a black turtle neck, dark sunglasses, and much to Mikey's dissent, the scarf he had left in the apartment several days ago. He was extremely pale and sweating, beads of perspiration rolling down his forehead and sticking to his brown hair. It was still very cold even though the sun was shining, so Mikey didn't understand why he was sweating so much. His hands were shaking and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, which was incredibly uncommon for Armando. He usually hid his wrists as much as he possibly could, ashamed of the decisions he had made when he was a teenager. Mikey could remember the first time he'd seen the scars on Armando's wrists. It still made him feel sick.

"M-Mikey?" The man said standing before him. It deeply bothered Mikey to see him so weak. Was he sick? "Mikey... I... I'm so fucking sorry," He sputtered, and he raised his hands towards his boyfriend like Mikey would automatically take him back. As if sensing that was rotten, Armando returned them to his sides helplessly. "I'm... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry," He said again and again like a broken record. Mikey couldn't stand to watch this. "I... I love you so much. So goddamn much. I was just... Confused. I didn't... I wasn't going to rape you," He continued, frantically running his hands through his hair.