Page 84 of All That Remains
He slid out of me, holding off on his climax; replacing himself with lubed fingers. He knew I needed work. It had been too long. But he had given me what I wanted. He had made usoneagain, if only momentarily.
"Deeper..." I pleaded as he reentered. The initial penetration was like a hit of heroin. I arched my back, overcome with his rigid, throbbing flesh.Yes, God, yessss. When he came inside me for the first time in what seemed forever, it reverberated like shockwaves. I was electrocuted. He shuddered violently, collapsing and sputtering my name.
Later we sat upright in the center of the bed, interlocked. My legs straddled his waist. We kissed with a sick infinitude,absorbing one another. The room was frightfully silent, apart from the sound of our lips meeting and parting.
"Marry me..." was my delirious sigh.
27
Hours later when I awoke, disoriented and sore, it took a moment to register where I was. These ceilings were not mine. Neither were the walls, all bare and devoid of paintings. Neither was this furniture; sparse and rustic as it was. Nor the verdant grass and low stone wall running along this section of the yard—unblemished white like everything else around me. I deduced I’d entered a commune deep in the canyons of old Hollywood, deposited someplace along a time warp in the sixties.
The man beside me was fast asleep, yet at some point had gotten up to turn music on. A familiar mix played about the room at a hushed volume; one I recognized from dreary autumn days at his London home. Bob Marley’s “Satisfy My Soul” was winding down. Back then we would spend the bulk of the day sleeping, awakening only to make love and art, play video games, watch movies, and cook in the dead of the night. I was a proudsous-chefwho got to taste everything as he prepared it, and was typically full by the time we were ready to eat.
Now Frank Ocean’s “Swim Good” was a quarter of the way through and I listened till the last second, rapt with nostalgia. Moments ago, I’d dreamt Rome was walking ahead of me in a crowded airport and I couldn't reach him no matter how hard I sprinted. Clueless others kept lumbering in the way—dogs, carts, children, luggage—all whizzing by as I accelerated through the confused mass. Then he halted and turned back to acknowledge me. Before I could speak, I was snatched backwards away fromhim, and now lay blinking awake. For several moments I shut my eyes and tried to decipher the moral of this nightmare, but nothing seemed to make sense.
I figured he must’ve stepped onto the terrace for a smoke while I slept, since the door was now ajar. A breeze stirred around the room. He’d pulled back the heavier drapes and snuffed out all the candles in the meantime. Consequently, I was reminded it was the middle of the day, and notnightas I’d been deceived into believing as we made love to candlelight and silence.
“Thinkin Bout You” started up and I stretched as best I could without exacerbating my tender muscles. I was as limp and shriveled as my cock; the life having been drained from both without mercy. Soon I caught a whiff of cigarettes and knew he’d engaged in his post-coital smoke sessionas always. He certainly deserved it.
I watched him now without relent, as he lay facing me on his belly, one knee bent over my thigh. His thumb lingered near his parted mouth, like it was accustomed to. I could never catch him in the act, but it was forever poised to take the dive the moment he felt the inclination in his sleep. Perhaps I watched him too long, because I grew frightened. I began to seemyself. A crude doppelganger. How could another encompass my being? My totality? If I wasthere, then what the hell was left overhere? Who was lying beside him? No one. Atravesty. If he got up and left now, I'd benothing. A void.
Ten years in, and I had yet to embody any of him. He was an elusive bastard. With a quiet aversion, I pressed my lips to his cheek and exhaled.
“Marry me,” I whispered, directly into his ear.
Later I got up to piss and winced as I walked to the bathroom, stepping down from the dais that somewhat elevated the bed. I entered and swiped the dimmer and waited until it flickeredto life. I stood before the double mirror to register the damage done. My ass hurt, but it was a good hurting; as though he’d branded me. The pressure of him still dwelt deep inside; the weight of him still bearing down on me. I nearly shut my eyes to savor his phantom, but thought it best to get back to the business at hand.
There were alarming changes to my body from when I’d first gazed into this mirror hours earlier. A light beard burn on my chin. Kiss-swollen lips. Bruised nipples. Hickeys along my neck and collarbone. I was a wreck, but grinned like a loon for bearing visible marks of his ardor.
Before exiting, I washed my hands and face, but left the rest because I wasn't ready to shower him away. I strode stark naked to the kitchen, liberated and whole. Sunlight bathed the lounge. The floors were warm. After rummaging through a few cabinets, I discovered unused China coated with a dusty film. Loads of canned goods and dried fruit. Tons of sugary snacks and baked crisps. It was clear people with diverging tastebuds shopped for the house, and I shut the cabinets with a shake of my head.
The suction of the refrigerator door endowed me with a sense ofhome. There were an array of vitamin waters and energy drinks and a nigh empty pack of Stellas. There were also loads of fruits and veggies, and meal-prep containers full of quinoa and kale and other Paleolithic shit. The freezer looked more familiar, filled with steaks and seafood that made my stomach gnaw with hunger. To remedy this, I snagged a plum from the crisper and devoured it over the sink, the juice running down my chin and hands until I washed it away. Then I took a bottle of alkaline water and drank it halfway before leaving it on the counter.
Venturing back towards the bedroom, I spotted the one room he’d avoided showing me during my tour the other day. Some needling force got the better of me, and after listening to make sure he wasn’t awake, I tried the handle. It gave with ease.
As the door swung open, my breath hitched. Strange didn’t begin to cut it. It was as though I’d entered a ringmaster’s tent. A stunning mural of indigo blue encompassed all four walls and the ceiling, dotted with stars and constellations. Two immense flocks of sparrows took flight from the flanks of the room, encircling each wall in a heaving ribbon, then eddying overhead.
The rich, inky blue that served as a contrasting backdrop to the white of the stars and birds was a familiar color—that being theexactsame shade as my old mic sleeve and IEMs. I stepped further inside, agape, turning in a slow circle to reassess my findings. It was theexactshade; not a smidgen darker or altered. I’d know that coloranywhere. Besides, I’d also gotten tattoos of sparrows and the same constellations through the years, so the meaning was unmistakable.
It was the only other colored room in the house, apart from the space-themed smoke room which was half the size of this one. Everything else was minimalistic andbonewhite. Something inexplicable welled up my throat. I swallowed thickly, unsure of whether to laugh or cry or run to kiss him awake.
The room was furnished only by a large glass cabinet opposite the door, filled with sundry keepsakes. The silver lighter I'd given him in Thailand nearly two years ago caught my eye and I ran to it directly. It’d been kept in pristine condition, probably never used.
Beside it were several of my bracelets and other odds and ends I’d left at his house and hotel rooms over the years. Hair ties, ChapSticks, headphones. A few of the posh pens I’d collected at haberdasheries around the world, which he always stole even though he had no use for them. I saw the watch I'd given him for his 2015 birthday, and the matching bracelet I'd given him on Valentine's Day 2016. The very last time we’d made love.
It wasodd. It wasRome. It wasme. It was a fuckingshrine. One that an unwitting onlooker would never clock. But I recognized all with ease, every strange, minute, and forgotten item. Worn Polaroids. Newspaper clippings. Old rings and necklaces. Cufflinks and handwritten notes.Once more, I’d stumbled on myself in his place. A past version of me he had pilfered and bottled up to revisit at his convenience—
Suddenly his hands were on me, sliding around my belly; body pressing from behind. He buried his face in my hair. He was every bit as nude as I was. The brush of his flaccid cock was unmistakable. The tickle of his pubes against the hypersensitive flesh of my ass was more than I could bear.
“Rome?”
He kissed my shoulder.
“Rome, I thought you were asleep…”
“I was,” he muttered.
“Whatisthis?”
