Hello, readers! So, Odyssey is doing something really amazing by allowing writers to publish original creative pieces as well. I love writing, in all its forms, and I've taken a few courses on creative writing. This week, I wanted to share my first piece of creative fiction. It's just a short story, but I hope you enjoy reading it.
Always
He didn’t know it, when he met me, that I was already gone. But I knew it, and I had known it for quite some time. I suppose that’s just what happens when every person you cared about in your life abandons you, people always leave. Father was a drunk who ran off with a woman much younger than him; mother grew depressed and reclusive through the years, and by the time I was 17, she offed herself. I can’t say I was surprised, but I am haunted by the fact that I was powerless to stop it. But, back to the real story at hand, three years later.
Of course, we exchanged formalities, he was Jaxon Rhodes, but insisted I call him Jax, and I was Lincoln Byrnes and insisted he just call me Lincoln. He really was rather attractive, as far as physical beauty goes; tall, tan, handsome, with unruly black locks atop his head. I generally don’t feel much when it comes to people, but as I stood there, listening to him chatter about nothing and everything, I felt a faint, unfamiliar stirring deep within. Just as it threatened to turn me into a nervous, giggly mess, I shut it down, feigning indifference. But my interest was piqued, and I knew I would have to play this one out.
The next few weeks passed in a blur, with Jax and I spending nearly every day together. He clearly had it bad for me, and being the fool I am, I not only allowed his attachment, I encouraged it. Deep down, I could feel the stirring growing stronger, but still I suppressed it. People always leave, I thought to myself, People always leave. October rolled around, and with it, Jax’s twenty-first birthday, an exact month from the day we met. Knowing how much it would mean to him, I planned a night in for the two of us; nothing major, just dinner and some quality time.
I felt nervous as I opened the door to my sparsely furnished, white-walled apartment to invite him in, as this would be his first time seeing where I live. I really wanted this night to be special for him. As he entered my home, he spotted the small dining table, set for two. Jax beamed from ear to ear, his dimples creating small indents in his cheeks.
“Lincoln,” he said excitedly, “I can’t believe you would do something like this for me. Thank you so much, it means a lot.” He crossed the short distance between us and wrapped his strong arms around me in an embrace. At first, my body tensed, unsure of the contact from another person, but after a short period of time, I found myself wrapping my own arms around him, reveling in the novelty of another man’s warmth. As he released his hold and backed away, I felt as though I had lost something, something I had been in desperate need of. Pushing my thoughts to the back of my mind, I managed to find words.
“Shall we eat? I don’t want it to grow cold.”
Jax chuckled softly, “Sure. Let’s dig in.” I was relieved that he was still in his cheerful mood. After dinner, we curled up on the couch to watch a movie. Partially through, I allowed my head to rest gently on his shoulder, and as if by natural reaction, his arm reached around me, pulling me closer. The rest of the movie passed with us resting in that fashion, and by the time it had ended, it had grown late. Jax stood and stretched, then looking at me, he said the words I was dreading.
“It’s late, I should get going. Thank you, for tonight I mean. I had a really nice time.” I watched him grow closer to the door. People always leave, I thought again. Before I knew what was happening, I had crossed the distance between us and grabbed his hand, pulling it towards me.
“Stay,” I said quietly, “Please, stay.” I looked down at my hand holding his, and it just seemed right. Jax turned around and walked back toward me. He tilted my chin up with his free hand, his face inches from mine.
“Always,” he whispered. “Lincoln, I will always stay.” Just as the built up tears from years of pain beaded in my eyes, his lips, soft and full, pressed against mine. It was then that I started to feel again, after years of emptiness.
