Wishing you all the very best, my dear. Love and sweetness, joy and fun, smiles and laughter.
Sometimes it's just good being up early so I tried to write a little something for you, honey.
Hope you'll enjoy it!
He hated sleepless nights. It was enough to drive him up the wall… to know he’d be tired all day long, no chance to get back precious time. The following day would be lost, he’d walk around like a ghost, too lazy to think, too lazy to talk, too lazy for everything.
So what to do now? He could kick his heels until the morning (how boring!) , he could roll a joint (right now he wasn’t in the mood for it), he could take a walk (for this he was too lazy and it was too cold).
But now that he was up couldn’t he at least do something meaningful? For example writing down what was on his mind … but – did it mind… make sense? Partly true. He ran his hands over his stubbly chin, took the pen – and then (to his own surprise) the pen almost flew across the sheet of paper. He learned that there was a lot he wanted to say.
Empathy – to him reaction on emotions for others. Unimportant. He never showed it. So far.
The tact is verbal contact with the physical world. Necessary sometimes, but not in his world. So far.
Compassion is a virtue – it doesn’t fit to his behaviour. Compassion you get as a gift – he could well do without it.
Toleration – to bear to endure. To him it simply means to be open-minded. He calls himself an open-minded thinker. The world needed more of it. Unfortunately.
Hope – what to say about hope. What does he hope for? He wouldn’t think about it now. Maybe to make the best of it, whatever it was.
Sentimentality. To him a kind of weakness. Complicated emotions at the expense of reason – is that so? Sometimes it even gets hold of him, this – let’s call it tantalisingness he couldn’t stand. He hated being sentimental though it happened. Now and then. It must be the season … Yule… coming Christmas. Put it away!
Emotions. Contrary to reason. To him emotions were irrational , that was, not subject to deliberative cogitation , and as interfering with normal thought processes.
He – to put it mildly - disliked emotions. The emotions of joy, sorrow, reverence, hate, and love.
Take love for example. He had to pay a big price when his beloved parents had left him. He really loved the Tylers. As a child you love your parents. Unconditionally. Since when was it up to him to criticize his parents? Maybe it was a mental delusion. Why did they leave him? When did they stop loving him? Did he hate them? Sure there was a time he wished them dead. They made him feel unworthy when he was younger. Insecure. Sad.
Did he hate them still? No. They have become indifferent the past years. Irrelevant.
But he had changed. Didn’t let get anyone near to him. He worked hard on it, as hard as for his reputation. He never gave a damn to anything or … anyone. So far.
He couldn’t show weakness, more important he wouldn’t show weakness. A lasting weakness haunted him for years. These times were definitely over. He was strong. Hard. Harder than steel. But he didn’t feel comfortable all the time being just like this, being like people wanted him to see or be.
His constitution today? Good. Really good. In a few days it was Christmas. It was easy to ignore Christmas madness. Never did he even stroll on a Christmas market, never did he buy presents – he didn’t have to and he never would. Though… maybe this year could be an exception.
No. No exceptions. It wouldn’t fit to him. By the way he couldn’t imagine a proper gift for the Connor boy.
Casey Connor. He had to smile. Why did he smile at all? He pulled himself together … the truth was … he considered him a class mate. No. This wasn’t the truth. Was he a friend? Was he his friend? Were they friends? He hesitated to write it down. But at least he should be true to himself. So he wrote with shaking hands: Casey is my friend.
Sentimental crap. No. ‘Don’t do this, Zeke man,’ he murmured. He didn’t know how long he could take it, but he would try to get a grip.
A friend had nothing to do with sentimentality, right or wrong?
Did he interpret too much into it? What was it at all? Truth or dare?
They met at school, after school, most of the evenings and every weekend they spent hours together. They were talking about this and that, about nearly everything without distrust.
Was that so?
Trust. Did he trust Casey? Hands down – Casey trusted him. The boy never had to hide his feelings. He simply didn’t know how to do it – should he like to do it. As quiet he was toward others as talkative he was toward him. Vice versa. No. Zeke wasn’t quiet. He always said what had to be said. Regardless on the consequences. So far.
Time spent with Casey was never wasted. Where did this come from? But it was the truth.
He liked his company. He liked him. He liked him? Now that he read it on the paper he had to hold his breath. “Oh man…” He needed a break. Shouldn’t he be sound asleep at 4 a.m.
There was a dull gnawing in his chest. Casey. Description please. Kind. Funny. Sometimes even witty. Smart. He stopped. No. This he couldn’t write down but didn’t he himself deserve the truth? Why was it damned hard to be true to himself?
He got up, needed to stretch, and yawned extensively “I’d better get a cup of coffee…”. While the coffee maker was bubbling, he couldn’t stop thinking about Casey. With Casey around he felt so alive. Without Casey he would be missing something. Such thoughts were alien to him. So far.
The truth was – just a thought, but perhaps… why didn’t he get him out of his mind recently?
Why’s that? Did he overestimate things… the situation? The same questions came over and over again. Weren’t they as different as different they could be. That was a fact! “Oh man” he sighed when he sat down at the desk, taking a sip of the hot steaming brew he took the pen and continued writing.
On a new sheet of paper he wrote Casey’s name. Pros and cons. Only to cross it out again.
There were no cons. He liked Casey. A lot. Was it just that? Wasn’t it a bit more than that? The truth – Zeke. Simply the truth. Facts. Reality. ‘Say it. Write it. You’re thinking about it already.’ It happened more than it was sane. Was it a warning? To purify his thoughts?
But why should he do this? Nothing really happened. Not on the surface. Not on his surface.
‘Write it down, just for you, Zeke’ he told himself and that he did. Overcautious … as if something could judge him for this. ‘I like Casey. Much. I like him. Really. I do. He makes my heart beat faster, he fills my dreams. Daydreams as well. But is the word ‘like’ enough at all? ‘Like could be used to express a feeling of attraction between two people, weaker than love and distinct from it in important ways. It didn’t necessarily imply a romantic attraction, but, as in this case, it did. Was that so?
He stopped, throwing the pen away. “Come on!” Like HAD to be enough. It just HAD.TO.BE!
Casey was a cutie, a good old friend, a sweetheart. Sweetheart? Where did this come from? He never called anyone sweetheart. For his taste he sounded like Barbie’s Ken. But Casey was exceptional. Clear. Truth. Fact.
Casey never gave up on him, that’s what kept him going. He had to admit it: Casey was more than a friend. Yes. It was the truth and he meant it. It scared the hell out of him only to write it down let alone say it aloud. How could it be? When did it happen that he … lo… liked him that much? He wished someone would be here so he could talk about it, driving this person crazy with questions. He just wanted to understand. But the only person he could imagine talking about this personal was Casey. He felt like running around in a maze.
Passing though the room he pulled his hair, folded his arms across his chest and felt … angry. About himself. Why couldn’t he just let it happen? Fear of being hurt maybe. The loss of freedom? No. Casey let him do whatever he wanted to do. No accusations. No tenures.
So no, he wouldn’t lose freedom.
Zeke could cope with physical closeness (at least now and then when it comes to this… hormone thing …) but mental closeness? It was a new territory and he was horrified about himself. What if he couldn’t give Casey what he deserved? But first of all – did Casey feel the same way? Desperation took over. He had to clear this. As soon as possible. He knew it would eat him up otherwise.
He forced himself to sit down again. Did he … love Casey? His heart skipped a beat as soon the world ‘love’ crossed his mind. He started shaking uncontrollably, was this a sign of love or was it … fear? That there was someone he cared about, someone he wanted to be together with… all day long or even longer? Love is blind. Rats! All the signs were that he would lose his mind. Casey. “Oh man! Damn! Pull yourself together!”
But would it be that bad to confess that he was feeling something. For Casey. For the boy. For ‘his’ boy! Nothing had happened so far. Really? ‘Don’t lie to yourself’ he hissed. Nothing beside some hugs and … the kiss this afternoon. Was this the cause? A brief little kiss on his neck? “God grief! I’ve fallen in love! Shit!” he grumbled jumping out of his seat. It wasn’t the first kiss he got, definitely not. But he felt Casey’s lips on his neck, behind his ear still. The spot burned like fire.
And then he sat down and wrote with extra large letters ‘I love Casey’, scrunched it up only to write it again. He’d call Casey. Now. He’d understand.
The free-line signal sounded like a siren drilling into his head. For hours it seemed.
Good. He was on the phone. “Zeke here…”
“What’s up? The clock reads 5 a.m. Why are you awake?”
He gasped for air and no word came out.
“Zeke? I’ll be there in a minute…”
He always understood. Always. So what’s next?
Brewing the next coffee he waited. And waited. And waited getting more and more nervous.
He was a bag of nerves when Casey arrived, ran in and jerked to a halt.
“Zeke. My God, you look like shit!”
Yes, that’s what he needed right now. He could imagine his zombie-like face, Zeke couldn’t bring himself neither look at him nor to say anything.
When Casey came closer and looked at the young man he knew it. Zeke loved him. So he was right when he kissed him this afternoon. Out of the blue. He remembered the shocked face, though Zeke looked more … surprised and pleased. Upon his life!
The little nudge was necessary though he felt sorry for Zeke that he had to go through a rollercoaster of emotions tonight – he knew it had to be. Because this man was so slow. Not seeing the obvious. Zeke wasn’t Mr. Emotion, Zeke wasn’t Mr. ‘I’m-falling-in-love-and-admit-it-e
But now there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Casey walked up to him and for Zeke the world stood still. He hugged him with a whisper “I know, Zeke… I know…” and this broke him. This was something Zeke hadn’t expected. Last afternoon he had no clue – he didn’t even think about it (liar!) and now he was sobbing, SOBBING …like… like a moron.
He wanted to fly, to run away – at least he should stop making noises like these. Like Barbie’s Ken. He felt ashamed and – shit! – weak! All because of this beaut… this nerdy kid.
Zeke was going to get a nervous breakdown. No wonder after this stressful night. He felt extreme tiredness and he was crying uncontrollably. Shit! That’s exactly what he 'Ken' needed right now. He wanted to talk to Casey? He wouldn’t (liar!). He just couldn’t (truth!).
But Casey wouldn’t be Casey if he wouldn’t realize what was going on.
He softly stroke his arms, took his hands in his andn said “look at me, Zeke. It’s o.k. There’s nothing you should be ashamed of. “
Time could bring him down, could bend his knees, - if time didn’t work … Casey surely did. He didn’t like it, not at all (liar!)! With Casey sitting on his lap softly caressing the nape of his neck he felt bad (liar!), he felt good (liar!) – he felt something he couldn’t put into words (better now?) … and he could use some sleep now.
“Let’s go to bed” – is it possible Casey could read his mind?
With a smile brighter than 200.000 volt Casey kissed him again whispering against his lips “I love you, too.”
A few moments later between kisses and tears, whispers and touches, tightly embraced, breathing each others breath, feeling each others heart they fell asleep.
And the world keep turning ... just so ... as if nothing had happened.