Heaven Sent (boyxboy)

Chapter One: He Was Brooding

        He was brooding. Or... I guess that's just what I assumed he was doing. And you know what they say about assumptions. But still, I'm pretty sure he's brooding. He just looked so moody. Negative vibes were coming off of him in waves and his eyes were absolutely smoldering. He was sitting on some fire escape steps in a crappy alley. I guess all alleys are crappy, but the man didn't seem to mind. Maybe he did, actually, and that's why he looked so depressingly morbid. He just sat on the third step with his head resting on his hands. Every once in a while those eyes would lose focus and a dazed expression would appear on his handsome face. Those eyes were beautiful. Eyes that seemed to take in everything, yet nothing at all.

        I took in the whole picture. He really stood out in the small lane. He was dressed nicely, so not a beggar, yet he sat on those rusty cancerous steps. They had to be making his pants dirty. But the question I really wanted answered: why hadn't anyone noticed him? Well, obviously I had noticed him but really, was I the only one? He stuck out like a Barbie at a G. I. Joe convention. Or maybe he was a G. I. Joe at a Barbie convention. He was too manly to be a Barbie. Either way, he stuck out. He didn't look like he belonged in this alley. Heck, he didn't look like he belonged on this side of the city. He should have been on the rich side living it up, not here with us... common folk. The man was different. I knew it. It was like something I could sense.

        He was beautiful too. In a totally manly way. It was as if some Adonis just came down from the heavens and decided he might as well call Earth his home. A finely chiseled face was surrounded by brown-almost-black hair. And his eyes. I think I've already mentioned them a few times, but they were an absolutely captivating sapphire. They were so expressive too, when they weren't doing that glazing over. They told a person who looked into them thousands of stories and conflicting emotions. Betrayal. Pain. Happiness. Loss. All reflected in those perfect orbs. His skin seemed to radiate with beauty, pale but healthy. He absolutely glowed. And I knew that if I could gain his attention, and he smiled at me my life would be complete and I could die a happy man. Ok, I have a little more to live for than just that, but you get my picture right?

        One so beautiful the angels seethe with envy. I smiled; a sad little smile. The man did not see me, but I would never be able to get his image out of my mind. It would be burned into my retina for the rest of my life. He just seemed so sad. I wanted to hug him, but that would have been way too awkward on so many levels. Deciding I had spent enough time watching the unsuspecting stranger I turned away. Shoving my hands into my pajama pockets, I continued on my late night walk.

        I was heading toward home. Or, what had been my home since the age of seventeen. I had some "creative differences" with my family that pertained, but wasn't limited, to my future occupation. My mother wanted her only child to be an upstart doctor or lawyer. Father, well he just wanted someone taking over the family auto mechanic business. There were many arguments at our house over which was the right choice for their son. Over who was the right, and better, parent. I hated it. If I would have stayed there, I would have ended up with a career choice I didn't choose, or want and one parent who resented me for choosing the other. Which would have led to more fighting, and quite frankly I couldn't deal with that. So I left. I wanted a career I chose. I wanted to paint. And that's exactly what I did.

        You know all those glamorous stories about artists and how amazing their lives are? Yeah, neither do I. I was crushed when I found out how Van Gogh met his demise, and heck, I've sold more paintings in my lifetime than that poor man did. And then there's Kirchner's story isn't much better than Van Gogh's, but anything involving Hitler is generally bad. Actually, compared to them my life was fabulous. Sure, money was tight, and it showed in my cramped living area, but I love my profession. I have never regretted the decision to forge my own path in life. A path down the road of creativity. If I was Pocahontas I definitely chose the winding river bend.