1946
Leroy sat in his apartment, all the lights off and all the curtains drawn so that he wouldn't have to see his neighbor's Christmas tree. He swirled the whiskey around in his glass, the ice clinking against the sides. He just stared at the wall for a few hours. The radio was off because he hadn't been able to find anything that wasn't Christmas music. It was Christmas Eve, so he could understand the impulse, but that didn't mean he had any inclination to torture himself. He understood that people liked the holiday—it had been his favorite day of the year for a good fifteen-year stretch. But now it was just an awful reminder of everything he was missing, like an amputated limb he could still feel.
There was a knock at the door. He stumbled out of his armchair and went to open it. Philip stood out on the landing, his hands shoved into his pockets. To say that Leroy was surprised would be an understatement. After the way Philip had reacted to their kiss twenty years ago, he'd never expected to see the man again.
"Can I come in or do I need to stand out here all night?"
Leroy stepped aside, and Philip walked in, throwing his coat over the back of the couch and sat down. "Is there, uh, any particular reason why you're here...?"
Philip rested his hands on his knees, tapping his shaking fingers together so much that Leroy wanted to reach out and cover them with his own hands. But after what had happened between them before, he did not think that would have gone over well. "I asked the council to send me out here again to see if you'd reconsider their offer to join us."
"Ugh." Leroy rolled his eyes and sat down on the other end of the couch.
"I know you aren't going to change your mind." He looked down at his hands, rubbing them together. "But I asked for the assignment as an excuse to come see you."
Leroy shook his head. "They sure don't let you leave often. That cult's a tight-run ship if begging for a working vacation is your only way to have fun."
Philip gave him a sideways glance. "I'm not a prisoner, Leroy."
"If you say so."
"The real reason I wanted to come out here has nothing to do with any of that. I... Well, to be quite honest, Leroy, I had to make sure you were alright."
"I'm fine."
"You don't look it. You've been in bad shape this last year. It's hard to see you that way."
Leroy blinked at him in annoyance. "Was there anything else?"
"Yes, I... I missed you."
Leroy didn't bother to mask his flattered surprise. "You did?"
"Life's exciting with you, Leroy," he said, scooting closer and hesitating a moment before grabbing Leroy's hand. "Perhaps even terrifying."
He brought his eyes up to look into Philip's, taken aback by the longing look in them.
"You know," he said, his eyes focused on Leroy's lips, "When I was alive, I could be reckless and impulsive, like you. But ever since I became a Grim, I've been toeing the line, trying to be good. But I've got to tell you, I miss being reckless and impulsive sometimes."
This time Philip leaned forward first, taking Leroy's chin in his hand, and kissed him. He closed his eyes and leaned into the couch, letting himself be pushed over and pinned down by Philip's weight. He tangled one hand in the other man's soft hair while using the other to tug off Philip's coat.
Ripping their clothes off and tossing them out of the way only took seconds. It'd been so long since he'd been touched by anyone that Philip's touch on his bare skin felt like fire moving across his chest and down his stomach. Philip stopped kissing him and halted his roaming hands. "I've wanted to do this with you for a long time."
"Then do it already," Leroy said with a playful wink. He kissed Philip, so caught up that his breathing had become a string of ragged sighs. Philip kissed him back, pressing him into the couch. Leroy caressed the back of his neck, playing with the ends of his hair. He enjoyed the weight of Philip's body against his, loved the sound of Philip's breath hitching as he sucked his earlobe and kissed down his neck.
He sighed as Philip pressed into him, digging his nails into his lover's back, giving himself over to the long overdue stress relief. He threw his head back against the couch, moaning as Philip pressed soft kisses in a line down his chin and over his Adam's apple. He'd missed this—being in someone's arms, letting them worship his body, making him feel good enough to forget everything else.
***
After three days cooped up in Leroy's bed, only leaving for food and whiskey, Leroy woke up to Philip's brown-eyed stare. "What? Is there something on my face?"
"No, it's just...I'll have to go back soon."
"Oh. But I thought...I thought you wanted to be reckless for a change."
Philip looked down and fiddled with the end of one of the pillow cases. "I know I said that, but...I can't live like that forever. I have responsibilities to the faction and being impulsive isn't a sustainable lifestyle. What if we get caught? I wouldn't want to go to prison."
Leroy rolled his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. "It's not like there is a prison on Earth that could keep us there."
"But that raises a lot of questions in itself. And..."
"You think too damn much," Leroy said, sliding out of bed and pulling on a pair of pants to go into the kitchen.
Philip followed, leaning against the counter as Leroy refilled his glass, cursing when there was no ice left in the icebox because they'd been too busy in the bedroom to answer the door when the delivery had arrived. "Won't you even think about going back with me? I don't want to leave you here...I'm...I really am worried about you. You don't have to pretend to be alright—not around me." He reached out to take Leroy's hand, but he shook it off and slumped off to sit in the armchair with his whiskey.
"You promised you wouldn't ask me that."
"Well, I can't stay."
"Well I won't go," Leroy said in a mocking, sarcastic tone.
"Then I guess I'll just say goodbye." He disappeared into the bedroom to put on the rest of his clothes back on. He leaned down to kiss Leroy's cheek as he shook his coat back on. Leroy flinched out of the way, getting a deranged sense of joy out of being petty.
"The next time you're feeling reckless... Well, I'm sure you'll know where to find me. You always do."
He didn't get up to walk Philip to the door, and only nodded when Philip waved goodbye and shut the front door behind him.
***
1988
Leroy finished the last chords of the band's set to the cheers of all the drunk college kids who hadn't gone home for the holiday. He hopped down off the small stage and wove his way to the back room to pack his stuff up. He was moving his little baggie, mirror, and a crisp dollar bill from the pocket of his leather pants into his guitar case when he felt familiar arms wrap around his waist. "Happy anniversary," Philip whispered in his ear, nibbling on Leroy's earlobe.
Leroy turned around and wrapped his arms around him, placing a few erratic kisses on his lips. Philip pulled away, smiling until he looked down at Leroy's face. He brushed some cocaine dust out from under Leroy's nose and scowled. "How many times have I asked you to lay off this stuff?"
"Haven't you figured out yet that I don't take direction well?" But he flashed that impish smile he knew made Philip crazy and said, "C'mon, let's go dance before my high wears off."
Unamused, Philip crossed his arms over his chest and didn't move. "You know I don't want to be around you when you're high."
Leroy scoffed. "It was just a joke. Would it kill you to lighten up once in a while? I did one line of coke over an hour ago. My high is gone. And if it wasn't, that tone sure would do it." Philip said nothing, choosing instead to glower in silence at him. He sighed, "Look, I'm sorry. If I had known you were going to be here this weekend, I would have refrained."
"You really didn't think I'd be here for our anniversary?"
"And what anniversary is this? The first time I turned down your cult or the fiftieth?"
A look of hurt crossed Philip's face. "No, it's the anniversary of when we first got together."
"How am I supposed to remember that after forty some-odd years?"
"How hard is it to remember Christmas Eve of all days? I manage just fine. But then, my brain fluid isn't mostly whiskey."
"Hey! There wouldn't be any anniversary to celebrate if it weren't for whiskey."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better? Why is it too much to ask that my boyfriend not be inebriated all the time?"
"Boyfriend? I thought I was just your sidepiece in the city," Leroy said, trying to make his tone playful in an attempt to avoid the impending argument. He picked up his guitar case and slipped his arm through Philip's, happy to let him do the shadow traveling back to Leroy's apartment. He tucked the guitar in the corner of his room and then sat down on the end of the bed.
Philip sat down next to him, putting his hand over Leroy's. "In all seriousness, you don't believe that do you? After all this time we've been going out?"
"I wouldn't call what we do together going out. It's more like staying in." Leroy raised an eyebrow and ran his hand along Philip's thigh, hoping to distract him.
"Don't be cute," he said, pushing Leroy's hand off him.
"And here I thought that's why you liked me."
Philip cocked his head to the side, pain written in his eyes. "For God's sake, just be serious for one minute. Please."
Leroy sighed. "Look, what we have is fun, but it's not a relationship..."
Philip's eyes widened, "Don't say that... Leroy, I...I love you."
Leroy rolled his eyes, "No you don't. If you loved me, you wouldn't try and change everything about me."
"I don't want to change you.I just want you to clean up and do something more with your life than sitting around reading comic books and taking gigs in dingy bars"
"I like reading comics and playing in dingy bars!"
"You're smarter than you let on—you could be doing so much more with your life."
"You aren't listening to me! I don't want to do more with my eternity. I haven't had the will to do anything in a long time."
"You can't spend the rest of forever blaming your apathy on their deaths. It's been forty years."
"I am always going to miss them—I'll always know there's something missing from my life. And I'll never be able to stop feeling guilty about how much I failed them."
"I have people I've been missing for two hundred years, too. The difference is that I don't put my life on hold because of it."
"That's right—you'd rather act like your dad's lapdog hoping he'll let you sit in his shadow instead of recognizing your own mediocrity."
"You're such an asshole."
"You're just figuring that out now? It's like you don't even know me."
Philip pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "It's good that we're talking about this so we can clear the air and get on the same page. I thought you and I assumed the same thing about our relationship..."
"You've never treated me like your boyfriend so why would I assume this is a real relationship?"
"You're right, and I'm sorry for that. But dammit, Leroy I want more." He looked back up at him, clutching Leroy's hands in both of his. "Move in with me. Please. I hate not seeing you every day. I know you're skeptical about living with the faction, but you don't have to participate in anything. You could come and go as you please—keep playing your music in bars if you want. It'll take some adjusting and some compromise, but I think investing in us will be worth it. I love you, and I don't want to be without you."
The earnest, almost excited look in Philip's eyes alone almost made Leroy say yes as a knee jerk reaction. He looked down at their clasped hands before pulling his away. "Philip... I... I can't do that. I'm sorry."
"Why do you have to be so stubborn all the time? Are you completely incapable of compromising?"
"Not if compromising means I'll have to work for a bunch of elitist assholes. I spent too many years of my life that way—I won't go back. If I don't have freedom over my own life, then I have nothing. I won't be anyone's expendable pawn ever again."
"Not even for me?"
"I love you, Philip. I'll admit that. I do love you. But you will never take me for who I am. I know you too well—if I concede this once, you'll never stop wanting to change me. It'll start small at first, but then someday I'll turn around and I won't be able to recognize myself."
He couldn't bring himself to make eye contact, but he could feel the hurt radiating from Philip as he stood up and took a step back from Leroy.
Philip took a deep breath and reached for his hands again and tried to get him to make eye contact. "If that's all that's holding you back, then...just let yourself. Don't you want to happy? We could have a happy life together if you'd just compromise on this one thing. Change can be good..."
"I'm sorry, Philip, but I don't want anything to change. And neither do you, deep down. Here you are, begging me to compromise and you won't even consider it yourself. We could be happy together if you'd leave your cult and just come live with me. But you wouldn't do it forty years ago, and you won't do it now. Because you're scared. No matter how much I might love you, it'll never be enough to outweigh the voice in your head telling you to be cautious. You haven't taken a real risk in two hundred years, and you certainly won't start now."
Philip ran his hands through his hair. He couldn't seem to come up with anything worth saying, so he disappeared without saying anything. The tears that had fallen down across his cheeks said enough.
Leroy flopped back against the bed and rubbed his temples in the silence. He should have known better than to ever get involved with Philip. It was better if he loved no one—his love had been a death sentence for everyone who'd had it. He had thought that having another Grim as his only lover in forty years would simplify things. But he should've learned by now that his life was nothing if not complicated. If he was lonely, he was better off getting a cat or a roommate instead of someone to warm his bed.
He looked over at the nightstand where Philip kept things for when he stayed over. With a pang, he looked at the Stephen King book with the bookmark stuck halfway through next to Philip's sad little pack of gum that was almost empty. He looked out the window at the lights of Los Angeles glittering out in the night, hearing the sounds of life in the city bustling below him, feeling lonelier than ever. He squeezed his eyes closed. When will you learn to keep your goddamn mouth shut?