[Featured in FreetheLGBT: Diverse Literature reading list and Humor: Young. Dumb. Full of Fun list]
Colin Mitchell, a photographer at a well-known store, Snapshot, is openly gay--mostly. His ideal experiences are sexcapades that are always subtle, n...
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Peter was nowhere to be found. He wasn't on the couch. He wasn't in the kitchen. Actually, he wasn't anywhere Colin searched that morning after he had woken up. Colin would have concluded that the guy had run away, or something relating to that, but that the boxes he had brought along were still on the living room floor, told him otherwise.
He picked up one of the boxes and took it to Peter's door, knocking three times. He waited for a while, knocked two more times, and waited again. Colin was beginning to get impatient and with his head resting against the door, yelled, "Hey, are you in there?"
He didn't get an answer.
Running out of patience, he turned the doorknob and strutted into the room. It was still like he left it---except the backpacks Peter had no doubt left on the made bed.
He put the box down and fetched the other one which seemed much heavier than he remembered. As soon as he set it inside the room, he noticed something peeking out at one end of the box.
It was the headstock of an acoustic guitar. Colin took it out for a closer inspection, feeling its weight in his hands. He ran his hands around the neck and over the burnt sienna coloured wood of the fretboard. The tips of his fingers plucked the first three strings and a mellow sound was produced. He was about to do it again when Peter's voice startled him, making him turn abruptly. He almost dropped the instrument.
"Dude, don't touch that." Peter said in a tight voice and snatched the guitar from Colin's hands. He looked at Colin whose face showed no guilty expression despite him being caught going through Peter's stuff.
He only muttered that he was sorry even though it didn't seem like it. But he spoke again in a more enthusiastic tone. "You play the guitar?"
"Actually no. I just decided to buy it and then spent money on lessons because I use it as a prop in my non-existent acting career." Peter's hands went across his chest as soon as he placed the guitar back into the box from where it came.
Colin had only asked because he hadn't particularly noticed the instrument on the previous night when Peter had moved in. But Peter was proving to be stubborn with the sarcastic reply he gave and the stance that followed.
"Oh-kay, lemme help you practice your acting," Colin started, taking a tentative step forward. "Let's pretend you're Bart, right," He gestures at Peter, speaking slowly, making the gaze he held more imposing. "And I'm Homer Simpson. And this is the part where I hold you up by the throat and strangle you for being such a---"
Colin wasn't done speaking when Peter started backing up, eyes darting behind him. In the next instance, he was bolting out the door and Colin took to his heels too.
"Why you little-" Colin grunted with a raised fist. He was hot on Peter's heels even as he meandered around the furniture in the living room.
Peter ran as fast as his legs could carry him. His lungs burned with the effort he exerted when he had to jump over the centre table and then land without stumbling. The footsteps of his pursuer echoed so much he couldn't tell if Colin was near him or even right behind him.
