Fear of Love

The first thing Tony noticed was the lack of warmth followed closely by a familiar yet oddly unexpected emptiness. A fringe of confusion set in as he forced his sleep-ridden eyes open. He traced his memory trying to ascertain why waking alone felt strange. Rowan

He patted around in the empty space next to him finding only a tangle of cool blanket. Rubbing the back of his hands over his eyes, Tony rebuked himself quietly for allowing himself to get sucked back into Rowan’s personal tragedy again. On the edge of a wing of hope Tony called out “Row?” Without any expectations of a response.

He knew instinctively that he was alone in the apartment. Tony sat up and listened for movement, but aside from the rattling hum of the rickety old refrigerator there was no other noise. He stood, disappointed in Rowan, but more so in himself, and straightened the black Levi’s he had slept in and padded out of the room to confirm what he already knew. Rowan ran again.

* * * *

It was a dark cool morning only broken by the still illuminated street lamps lining the road and the occasional red or green traffic light sending their colored glow on the street below and the threat of a pink and purple sunrise as Rowan wandered the Ann Arbor streets deep in his thoughts. He questioned the decision to sneak out of Tony’s apartment leaving only a note thanking him for his kindness.

Toggling between introspection and doubt, Rowan felt grateful for Tony and even Amir in a way he felt guilty about. In twenty-four hours he had opened up to each of them in ways he’d never wanted to cast his own problems on others. Yet, both had been genuine in their unselfish support. Even as Rowan had treated them like pawns in his dark game of hide and seek, hide from connection yet seek some twisted form of validation.

“How can I help you see that you deserve to be loved?” Tony’s words echoed in Rowan’s memory, accompanied by a foggy image of himself wrapped in Tony’s arms and the unusual feeling of comfort he felt there. A feeling that washed over him there in the dark lonely street.

Being deserving of love was a novel feeling to Rowan, one he hadn’t known. He had few memories of anything farther back than the night that his father turned him away for being himself. Those few memories he did have were of being torn for his childhood fun by a sadistic man that indirectly taught Rowan that he was unacceptable with his own inability to accept being plagued with the poor misfortune of a fag for a child.

Rowan palmed at his face, wiping the rebellious droplets that spilled out of his burning eyes. At least there’s no one here to watch my weakness! His inner fourteen-year-old screamed out in a silent burst.

Rowan ventured off of the concrete path, into the dew-coated grass of a dark city park where he landed his butt into the rubber strip of a child’s swing. He pushed off and started pumping his legs back and forth, hurdling the swing higher and higher with each stroke. Rowan’s hands squeezed at the chain links and he pushed with all of his strength in a subconscious attempt to fly away.

A sudden timeless pause pulled Rowan back to Ann Arbor, back to his height in the swing as he floated momentarily disconnected from its metal tether. With a violent jerk and an audible thud followed by rattling chains, Rowan quickly realized he had reached the maximum altitude of his rubber airplane.

His heart raced, and he felt the adrenaline of fear hastily overcome the sadness he had lifted off with. More than fear, he felt alive as the blood raced through his veins, pushed by the rapid beating of his heart. The heart he spent his young life building walls around in an attempt to keep it safe.

Rowan thought about Tony. Would he be pissed or feel somehow disrespected? Was he awake? The sun was starting to make its presence known. He drug his feet in the sand, slowing himself to a stop, and pulled the phone out of his pocket.

Rowan quickly thumbed out a message:“Good morning. Sorry I snuck out. I needed to take a walk.” And sent it off into the ether to its recipient.

His phone chirped almost immediately in response. “Mornin. I found your note. How are you?”

Tony’s quick response brought Rowan a deep unsuspecting smile.

Rowan: ”I’m ok. At the park.”

Tony: “Cool. Want company?”

Rowan: “I’d love company!!!”

The morning sun had broken the horizon and was peeking above the treetops, slowly spreading its warmth across the park when Tony came into Rowan’s sight. He left his perch on the cold monkey bars and quickly set himself to close the gap between himself and Tony. He walked with haste, anxious to wrap his arms around the bigger man and thank him for being so amazing.

Before he knew it, Rowan’s arms clung around Tony’s neck and his legs mirrored them, wrapped around the man’s torso. Tony held Rowan’s small frame easily as the pink-haired boy whispered in his ear.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” Rowan repeated over and over. “Thank you!”

“For what?”

“For being you.” Rowan quietly giggled, his warm breath wafting over Tony’s skin. Rowan climbed off of Tony, looked at him, and smiled.

“I don’t know how to be anyone else Row.” The humility in Tony’s voice made the smile on Rowan’s face grow enough to nearly tear Rowan’s lips in two before he broke into coy giggles. “What?”

Rowan leaned in and kissed Tony’s stubbled cheek. “You’re too good to me!” Then he pulled Tony back in and laced his arms around Tony’s waist, pressed his hands into Tony’s back, and buried his face back into the delicate skin of the other’s neck.

In the next instant, their lips were melded, pressed together momentarily motionless, just together until Tony felt the light touch of Rowan’s tongue. It tickled enough to curve the corners of Tony’s mouth as he steeled himself against the urge to laugh out. Instead, he parted them, opening up and inviting Rowan inside.

Rowan accepted Tony’s invitation and used the tip of his tongue to explore Tony’s soft lips, he lapped around the inside of them. Tony flinched at the sensation and a soft moan escaped into Rowan’s mouth.

Rowan pushed the fleshy muscle deeper into Tony’s mouth and brushed it over his tongue, coaxing it to action. Their tongues twisted and curled around each other’s until a battle of dominance was won. Tony took his place and consumed Rowan.

When they pulled away for breath, Rowan, in all of his childlike character, pinched Tony’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugged. Tony yelped and Rowan let go. The two broke off in laughter, still fighting to fill their lungs with much-needed air.

Rowan’s eyes glistened in the morning sun when they caught Tony’s eyes. He felt a new foreign feeling taking him over. He recognized it from childhood, it was joy. An unconscious flinch briefly took Rowan over as his memory recalled the image of his semen demon snatching a doll out of his hand and jerking him up.

Rowan pushed the memory down, but not before Tony’s smile faded. “Row, you ok?” He cupped his hand softly against Rowan’s cheek.

“Yeah, I’m good. It was just a memory.” Rowan answered, forcing himself back into the happiness that the unwanted memory had jerked him out of. “My dad.”

He was mostly successful in it as he looked over Tony’s concerned face. The man in front of him was nothing like the man in his memory. He sensed his safety with Tony, whereas the other could never allow him to feel safe. Rowan shivered and shook the remanence of his memory away and leaned back into Tony, resting his cheek on the other’s shoulder. Tony ran his hand over Rowan’s unruly pink hair.

“I’m starving Row, let’s go get breakfast!”

“You’re cooking!” Rowan replied.