To Build A Home

Cecil felt everything. The damp, gelid grass below him, prickling his bare skin like thousands of obtuse needles; the tender fingers that caressed his skin breathlessly, and the massive body above him, warmed with intense eyes. Hands slid lower until they entangled around Cecil’s legs, raising them slightly and exposing him to the world. In the sky, he caught a glimpse of the moon and stars: incandescent, heavenly, and their only witnesses. 1

“Am I weak?” he noiselessly asked them. Abysmal winks were his only replies, and he despondently accepted them as a yes. 2

He felt fingers pressing against him, moving surprisingly slow and deliberate, filling him until his bubbling emotions threatened to over spill like a waterfall. His eyes drifted up, meeting a beauteous wanton stare.3

“Michael…” Cecil whispered. He felt his fear explode like delicate glass shattering, unveiling through his broken voice and trembling body. His hands latched around Michael’s neck, and he felt Michael lower himself until their faces were mere inches apart. His fingers glided to Michael’s face, lightly tracing over everything from high cheekbones to full lips. Michael sighed quietly, and when he finally spoke his voice was soft like satin, carried amply by the soft breeze. 4

“I’m right here, Cecil. I’m not going anywhere.”5

A choked sob escaped Cecil, and he pulled Michael down until their lips met in a clumsy kiss, wet and ardent and filled with wrestling tongues, heavy sighs, and the remote promise of forever.6

‘But will you still be here tomorrow? Will either of us?'7

He shut his eyes forcefully, hoping to squander his obstinate thoughts. His legs circled firmly around Michael’s waist while tears escaped from him like uncontainable fireworks, thunderous and pronounced. In the distance, he heard birds singing restlessly, crickets moving swiftly below them and making their signature clamor. He heard tree leaves gently dancing against one another, the wind stringing their movement. He imagined himself being pulled out of his body, floating to where he was invincible. 8

“I wouldn’t be able to break…” he thought. In his mind, his body was dancing effortlessly with the leaves, as fluid as streaming water. He floated higher, to where the clouds touched his skin with fleeting embraces and stars threatened to break him.9

But I won’t break…10

Michael placed his mouth near Cecil’s ear, encompassing it with minuscule bites and warm air. He journeyed down to Cecil’s chest, showering the luminous skin with dense kisses. After a while, he paused in his movements and slowly slid up Cecil’s body. Their eyes met, shining in the obscurity of the night. They kissed, lips moving leisurely and tongues rolling sweetly over each other. And as Michael’s lips repeatedly enchanted ‘I love you,’ Cecil felt Michael enter him, stretching the area until the tearing pain reached unbearable. He closed himself securely around Michael, their pressed bodies behaving like glue. He took a deep breath, sensing a shimmer of pleasure behind the ache, and as his mind floated up to where the clouds and stars slept, he heartily told himself he could survive through all of what was killing him; the pain, the bliss, and the body moving slowly inside of him. He could do it.11

“And I won’t break…” he whispered shakily. 12

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'His paintbrush glided across the page, scraping the paper with thick lines of black. He backed away, staring at his finished project at every possible angle. It was a simple idea, illustrating different groups of people inadvertently interacting with one another. In one corner, dainty children ran free, tapping the nearest shoulder in a lighthearted version of tag. In another corner, a business-woman attempted to multitask, grasping her wandering child’s hand, while at the same time she conversed on her phone. There were various people everywhere, nonchalantly living their lives, unaware that they were only part of a painting. 14

He carefully placed his brush near his easel and removed his paint smock. He let out a loud yawn and stretched until his back cracked. His eyes drifted to the sky. It was his favorite time of day, when the sunset stroke the sky with psychedelic shades of indigo, orange, and pink, as if he himself had painted it. The air held an almost magical essence, humid with a mild wind. It never ceased to overwhelm him. He breathed deeply, inhaling the strong smell of lawn fertilizer and grass. 15

This was where home was.16

He smiled softly before turning to the glass door that faced his backyard. He slid it open, walking through his empty dining room and into his spacious kitchen. He grabbed his water bottle off the counter, heading towards his living room. He walked with a bounce in his step, whistling a lively melody and bobbing his head to the infectious beat. When he entered his living room he froze, his open water bottle slipping out of his clutch and crashing onto the carpet. There, in the center of Cecil’s living room, stood the last person in the world he wanted to see, and yet also the first.17

Michael.18

He was as handsome as ever. His untidy blond hair stood in odd directions, some stray strands falling into his mesmerizing face. He wore his signature blue lacrosse jacket and a pair of tight jeans that hugged his thick thighs. His eyes were fixed on one of Cecil’s paintings, hanging in the midst of his other creations. Slowly, he turned to face Cecil. He squared his body, and his normally hard face softened, wrinkles forming around his auburn eyes. The two stood silently. 19

Cecil nervously shifted his weight. There were plenty of questions he could ask, including ‘Why are you in my house,’ ‘Why are you just standing there,’ ‘Why are you still so gorgeous,’ ‘Why don’t I feel gorgeous standing across from you,’ and ‘Why did you wait a whole year to find me?’ None of them felt right. His eyes darted around the room, taking in his blue couch, his sticker-covered computer screen, and the numerous pictures plastering the walls. He looked anywhere but Michael until he heard a throat cleared. He jumped slightly and gulped. His eyes shyly looked up to meet Michael’s gaze.20

“Why are they only black and white?” Michael’s deep voice sounded strangely out of place in the quiet of the room and Cecil found himself tapping his foot in an endeavor to fill the void of noise. 21

“What are?” he asked. He noticed Michael gesturing to the paintings that hung on the walls.22

“Since when did you only paint black and white?”23

Cecil allowed a sad smile to grace his face. “It’s all I can see anymore.”'24

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They were moving together now, fast and fervently. Their sweat caused them to slip against each other easily. Michael leaned down and kissed Cecil, hard enough to bruise him, yet soft enough to take his breath away; a kiss that conveyed what neither of them could say with words. They pulled apart, panting heavily.26

“Cecil--” Michael started. 27

“Just shut up and kiss me…” Cecil demanded, pulling Michael down until their lips crashed.28

Don’t say anything. It’s better this way…29

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'Michael swallowed thickly. He took a few tentative steps forward, until only a few feet separated the two. “It really doesn’t fit you…”31

Cecil took a step back and ducked his head. “You wouldn’t know that…”32

Michael bit his lip before taking another step forward. “I would though. I remember you used to paint every day. Every time I saw you, you were drawing or sketching something.”33

Cecil began shaking slightly and he crossed his arms in a feeble effort to hide it. “Why are you here?” He glanced up, finding Michael had moved even closer.34

“I found it…” Michael whispered.35

Cecil narrowed his eyes, shaking more with every passing second, and he fought internally for control. “Found what?”36

“You drew me once, remember?”37

Cecil raised his chin defiantly. “I’ve drawn a lot of people. That doesn’t make you special.” To his disappointment, Michael chuckled softly, raising a hand to brush fallen hair out of his eye.38

“That’s not what you told me back then.” 39

Cecil clenched his jaw and swiftly turned around, prepared to leave. His hand was grabbed before he could get too far.40

“Cecil, I’m sorry. Please look at me.”41

He contemplated shoving Michael away, but the pleading nature of Michael’s voice swayed his mind, and Cecil found himself turning around. Michael’s hold on his wrist lightened, but he didn’t let go.42

“I needed to see you…” 43

Cecil’s body was back to shaking and he knew Michael could sense it by the concerned look in his eyes. His thumb rubbed against Cecil’s wrist. Their eyes met, and when he realized Cecil wouldn’t push him away, he took a step closer.44

“I was going through my old crap, and I saw your picture. The one you drew of me…” Michael paused, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know. I just got stuck looking at it. You’ve always loved art so much, and for some reason, I kept thinking that you drew it for me.”45

He slowly pulled Cecil closer, until his head rested on Michael’s chest. “It got me thinking ‘bout how much I loved you back then…How I still love—“46

Cecil pulled away abruptly, shocking Michael in the process. He smiled stiffly and turned for the kitchen. “I’m sorry. You must be thirsty. It’s so warm out.” 47

“What the-- Cecil…” Michael caught up to him, spinning him around. “What the hell, Cecil?”48

“I just thought you might be thirsty,” he retorted, a fake smile printed on his face like a stamp. 49

Michael’s face shriveled in confusion. “What’s wrong with you?”50

Cecil attempted to pull away, but Michael grasped his shoulders tightly, holding him in place. “Nothing’s wrong. I was trying to be hospitable.”51

“Fuck that, Cecil. I was trying to tell you something important and you just—“52

“---What do you want from me?” The fake smile was gone, replaced by his lips pressing tightly together. 53

“I keep trying to TELL you, but I don’t think you wanna hear it!” Michael pulled away in frustration, yanking at his hair. For a moment, they stood wordlessly, a respective distance between them.54

“I don’t…” Cecil said softly. Michael turned to him.55

“What did you say?”56

“I said I DON’T!” His eyes welled up, and he immediately thought back to two years ago, back when they were two immature 15 year olds; a time when crying was all he did. He’d cried the first time Michael broke his heart, and then the four times that followed. He’d cried when he realized that he always forgave Michael without a second thought. He’d cried when he realized that every time, Michael was the one who mended his cracked heart. He’d cried whenever he saw Michael around school with his dozen admirers and trophy girlfriend, and every time Michael told him the two would be together forever. Looking back, it felt like he’d cried every single day during those two years. It had been a year since he’d spoken to Michael, so seeing him renewed the familiar throbbing in his chest. But he refused to cry. 57

He ran into the kitchen, pulling open a drawer and withdrawing a frayed sketchbook. He shoved it into Michael’s hands and stomped outside.58

It was dawn now, and a bit chillier than earlier. He wrapped his arms around his body, sitting near the small creek. His absentmindedly thought of the picture he’d painted that day, most likely dry and awaiting a frame. The people, stuck in immobility, with zero expectations or goals. They didn’t know how lucky they were.59

He closed his eyes. The wind blew his unruly black curls, and for a moment, he felt like he’d left earth. Like he was watching this person named ‘Cecil,’ from a distance. This Cecil: with his uncontrollable hair, green eyes, and stray freckles. When would he ever stop screwing up?60

He heard the glass door slide open and close, but he refused to turn around. Footsteps grew increasingly louder, until he felt an undeniable presence beside him. The body sat down, brushing against him. The two sat, listening to each other breath quietly, while day died into night.61

“You drew me…” Michael muttered. Cecil nodded forlornly. “Cecil, man, you drew me—“62

“—every day for an entire year,” Cecil concluded. 63

“But why, though? Why?” Michael put his head in his hands, massaging his temple. “Why do you always take me back?”64

“…I’m still trying to figure that out. Do you think it’s…”65

“Weird? Well, yeah, I do…But, in a way, it reminds me why I fell in love with you. When you love something, you love it with all your heart. I mean, when most people break up they try to forget everything. But you…you do everything to remember.” He turned to face Cecil. “Why did you draw me in color?”66

Cecil felt all his energy being drained out and he realized he couldn’t fight it anymore. “…Because black and white doesn’t fit you.” He chanced a glimpse at Michael, and then found it hard to look away.67

Michael’s quivering fingers reached Cecil's face, sliding up and down his cheek. “You should know…it really doesn’t fit you either,” he whispered. They edged closer, their lips cautiously seeking even the slightest of contact. When their lips finally touched, Cecil instantaneously remembered the nights spent aimlessly sketching Michael’s face, hoping in vain that it would make him reappear. It hadn’t worked then. After some time, he’d tried to force his mind to accustom to life without Michael. Apparently that hadn’t worked either, because here they were a year later, Michael kissing him as though he’d never left, and shyly taking off Cecil’s shirt. In the back of his mind, Cecil couldn’t help but question whether or not he was really living, or if he really was watching from above; a sullen look of disappointment on his face as ‘Cecil’ screwed up yet again.68

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It was over. There was no earthquake that resulted from the spontaneous act, no lightning that struck them to death. Cecil was half sprawled on Michael’s chest, covered only by Michael’s jacket. They lay looking up at the night sky, bugs scampering above them. 70

This was the scene repeatedly pictured in Cecil’s head for the past year. He’d imagined it so many ways, but it always lead to this; lying peacefully in Michael’s arms, with no mindless girlfriends or judgmental students to perturb them. The only thing that made it different from his visions was the heaviness weighing his body down, as if gravity were pulling back at the strings that controlled his every movement. He inhaled deeply, and felt Michael’s fingers running through his hair.71

“I think of you every time I see a sunset,” Michael confided after a few moments in hushed silence. “You always used to talk about how much you loved them, how they made your day. I never told you, but seeing you always made my day.”72

Cecil curled deeper into Michael’s side, but remained quiet.73

“I used to worry that you’d leave me behind.”74

“What do you mean?”75

“You were this great guy. Funny, smart, good at every shit you tried, and I couldn’t even pass English; my own fucking language.”76

“…Wherever I went, I would have taken you with me.” He kissed Michael’s chest lightly. 77

“I know that, I just don’t understand why. I keep screwing up…” He squeezed Cecil slightly. “I wanna actually feel like I deserve to be with you. I wanna get it right this time.” His fingers began lightly stroking Cecil’s arms. “I broke up with Cassie.” 78

“When,” Cecil inquired.79

“I think a few months ago: as soon as I found your picture.”80

Cecil inhaled sharply. He thought of all the times he’d seen Michael with Cassie, laughing obnoxiously while she smiled sweetly. He’d always wished something terrible would happen to her; for her to disappear, leaving the space by Michael’s side open for Cecil. He sighed softly.81

“…I’m not perfect either Michael. I’m always messing up, and I’ll probably keep messing up for the rest of my life.”82

“I never thought you were perfect. You’ve always been…You; and I’ve always been okay with that. Maybe I…Maybe I even depended on it.” They were quiet again, until Cecil’s head began pounding with unanswered questions.83

“…Why did you always break up with me? Do you have any idea how crappy that made me feel; how worthless?” 84

“I’m so sorry, Cecil,” Michael whispered. “But I just…couldn’t. I couldn’t be with you; I couldn’t be the guy you wanted me to be…I just couldn’t.”85

“Then why’d you always beg to get back together, if you knew you’d end up hurting me again?” 86

“…Because I can’t live without you.”87

“You were fine for a whole year,” Cecil said with an edge to his voice. When Michael remained quiet, he continued. “What makes this time different from all the rest?”88

“…A lot of things. For one, I don’t wanna be that guy anymore. I’m done hiding who I am, and I’m done with hiding you. A year ago, I was scared shitless of being with you. I thought it would make me this, this person that I didn’t want to be. It took me some time, but I’ve realized that you make me want to be a better person.”89

Cecil breathed deeply. “I made a list,” he admitted after a while. Michael shifted to look down at him.90

“A list of what, exactly?”91

Cecil repeatedly traced his name on Michael’s bare chest. “…A list of all the reasons I hated you, when you broke up with me.”92

He saw Michael’s face contort into a slim grimace. “Look, I know I haven’t exactly said sorry, but---“93

“I wasn’t done,” Cecil said. He sat up slightly, and after a beat, Michael joined him. “I got to 100 before I ran out of reasons.” He took Michael’s hands in his. “…And then I tried making a list of reasons why I love you…”94

Michael gulped. “H-How many did you get?95

Cecil smiled sadly. “I got 100…”96

Michael slowly pulled his hands away. “Why are you telling me this?”97

‘To let you know how hard this is. For so long, I couldn’t decide which one I felt more towards you: hate or love.”98

“…What did you choose?”99

“I chose love,” he answered with a slight cock of his head. “…But there’re still so many things to hate, no matter what. And there’s no guarantee you won’t hurt me again.” He was beginning to feel lighter, like he’d been carrying all his weight on his shoulders and someone had taken half the weight away. “I don’t want to spend my life waiting for you…And I definitely don’t want to spend my life wondering when you’ll break up with me next. And that’s why…I can’t get back together with you.” Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Michael’s eyes opening in shock, his mouth dropping imperceptibly.100

“…You don’t mean that.”101

Cecil stared at him. His tears ran down his face as though someone had dumped a can of paint out of them, and he solemnly shook his head.102

'I want this to be the last time I cry over you…'103

Michael sat like a statue, his features frozen on his face. He finally moved, roughly rubbing his eyes. “I really screwed up, didn’t I?” His voice broke slightly, and he let out a groan of frustration.104

“Don’t worry,” Cecil said in a faint voice. “I did too.”
Michael leaned forward, timidly wiping Cecil’s face. When he pulled away, his eyes were glistening. “I’m so sorry…For everything.”105

“Yeah…So am I.”106

They sat side by side, staring out into the calm of the night. Cecil noted the way the stars seemed duller than earlier, yet more radiant. He had never seen anything more beautiful. He placed his head on Michael’s shoulder, and their fingers clasped together, fitting like the oddest puzzle. They breathed together, and Michael inaudibly whispered. “I want you to know that you’re the only person I’ve ever loved.”107

“Yeah, you too...” 108

'I didn't break...' Cecil hastily thought with a hint of a smile. He felt Michael shift. “And Cecil…just remember what I said. Black and white doesn’t fit you.”109

Cecil smile widened. Years from now, these memories might be nearly forgotten, save for the mere outline. But small moments can be so defining without your knowledge. Years later, the only things memorable might be those small moments; the ones that transformed you and inspired you to dream, and all you’ll be able to remember was how you felt at the time. 110

With his thoughts running in his head, he turned his lips to kiss Michael’s shoulder.111

“Yeah; you neither…” he muttered.112

The rest of the weight was removed, and he was flying.