The Nature Of The Beast

13: The Fight

TWELVE HOURS remain before I'm whizzing by in an expensive taxi, the wind in my hair and the open air filled with the scent of summer. Mere hours before I'm headed to the mansion I've come to know so well, the mansion that has become a second home of sorts for the boy that started with neither. Hours before flying away in a plane, traveling to Pennsylvania and out of this damned city. Away from all my troubles and the stress that has accumulated in a week's time.

Only moonlight shines through the window of my bedroom, the entire building still except for a light breeze that flows through the ajar glass panels. That rustles the bed sheets and disturbs a few stands of blonde hair that are put out of place. There's a light chill unnatural for the summer air, a shiver running the length of my spine with the unexpected hit.

The thought of Gatsby hasn't left me since the moment that he called, his face, his scent, his voice all but consuming my every thought and being since he spoke the simple words that changed me. I'm head over heels for someone I just met, someone that completely took over me in a matter of weeks and nestled themselves so deeply that they can't be torn away.

It seems like so much more than just a simple crush that comes and goes, a skin deep attraction that barely crosses the mind. There's a small part of me ashamed at the fact I let myself fall so hard so quickly but it's overtaken by the overwhelming majority of emotions that has me restless in bed at two in the morning, watching the night life stroll by.

Pulling the blankets closer I listen to the lullaby of the city, to the whir of the machinery working nearby and the honking of late night taxi cars. Far off somewhere is the lightest of jazz rhythms from a club of sorts and the click of heels against the broken sidewalks, accompanied by the dog whistles they attract. New York truly comes alive at night, parts of Gilded still up and moving as production never seizes to stop, always going, always moving, following New York's motto as if it were religion.

Yet I do the same as I toss against the fabric of the sheets, the material catching at the loose strands of my shorts and pulling along with it. My mind is too busy with thoughts and plans and perfect scenarios to go to sleep, eyes wide open until they're red with lack of sleep.

It's only the lightest of knocks that keep me from passing out, that has me dragging my dead limbs out of the bed and across the cold floor of the bedroom towards the locked door. A dark head of hair greets me with the slight opening of the door, a bandaged hand coming up to stop the door from closing.

"I wasn't going to lock you out Moxie, I could use the company anyways." My voice is plagued with sleep, dry and achy with each syllable as the boy pushes his way into the dark room and onto the bed.

"Can't sleep?" He asks, tone matching my own as if he's been kept up as well, eyes wandering towards the window as he waits for a response.

"Nope, what about you? You haven't looked like you've slept in ages."

He laughs tiredly at my remark, pulling himself up in the bed and hooking his long arms around his shins. "I haven't slept in the last week, I keep thinking every noise is Duke how stupid is that?" He laughs at himself though the chime is darkened, a somber undertone ringing out with it. "I keep pushing my dresser against the door it's really messing up the wake up boys' routine."

He's lost weight, the muscle in his arms becoming less defined as he wraps himself closer, huddling into the corner and placing his head against the chill wall. "Well they probably deserve it." I chime in, crawling in next to him and pulling the boy's head into my lap, playing with the mess of hair as it sprawls over my bare skin.

His breath smells of peppermint, lips dry and cracking as they press against the back of my hand before his fingers intertwine in mine. "I've been thinking about Duke a lot actually." It's barely a whisper, his voice too dry to really let out any words though the stress and fear shines through clearly in his eyes. "Every time he sees me he just gives me this look like I killed him or something. Like he's going to kill me..."