By Doppelganger

[Time Square, Manhattan, New York City. Justin was standing on the side of the road, lost amidst the bright spectaculars of the city. It was early in the afternoon; it was cold and slightly snowing. He looked up at the bright sign that was above him, his head slightly tilted to the left. He got off work early today since it was Friday. It had been a couple of months since he moved to East Village, but he hadn’t gotten the chance to explore the city yet, so he decided to take a walk on Broadway. After getting over the sign’s bright light, he decided to continue walking, but Justin wasn’t really taking in the surroundings. He was too much deep into his own thoughts. Of Pittsburgh. Of him.]

It’s been two months, sixteen hours, forty-four minutes and thirty-four seconds since the last time I’ve seen him. Touched him. Kissed him. Fucked him. I miss him so much. I wish he was here with me right now. New York City is such a marvelous place. Crowded and a whole lot louder than the Liberty Avenue I know so well, but it is a great city. My head is spinning just by looking at all the lights here in Time Square. Jesus, they are all on even during the day. Even McDonald’s has neon lights! Daphne would definitely flip if she saw this! And me? I’m supposed to be having fun right now. But all I can think about is him. I’d have a blast if he was here. I wonder what he’s doing right now. 

We’ve been calling each other practically every week, which is really a good thing considering the way we said our goodbyes. Although I wish our conversations were in person. The last time we were on the phone was the other day. He was telling me how Mikey, that is exactly what he called Michael, and Ben are doing good. Mikey, he said, was blabbing on about how he should come down to see me. Of course he didn’t go into details about that but his voice became lower, sad. Instead he started talking about tricking. “All work and no dick makes Sunshine a dull boy.” Like what he would say to Michael and I when we were working on our comics. I told him how ridiculously expensive it is to live here, that I do not really have the time to go out clubbing and tricking. I got a job at a printing company in Midtown Manhattan, doing little things like copying and arranging files, stuff like that. It’s not the best job in the world, and I’ve been working there for a month now, but I have to save money because I can’t stay with Daphne’s friend. Her place is too small for both of us. I need my own place, my own studio where I can set up all my art materials. Right now they’re all in one corner, all cramped up. Plus, her rent is very high. I’m probably going to move out of Manhattan, maybe to Queens or Brooklyn or something. I heard that there are a lot of affordable apartments and studios there. After working, the free time I have I spend working on my drawings and paintings. He told me I will be fine, that I will be okay. I did tell him, though, that I had gone clubbing one night last month. There were a lot of very hot young guys who wanted a piece of me, maybe even more. But I didn’t waste my time talking to them. I just wasn’t interested. But there was this one man.

I saw him at the bar, his back turned. I felt ecstasy just by looking at him, tall, dark-haired, lean body. I came up to him to say ‘Hi’ only to be disappointed when I saw his face. I was hoping to see someone else’s. The feeling of semi-heaven went away like cigarette smoke being blown away by a strong wind. Even so, we hooked up. I told him how the guy tried to kiss me, but I didn’t let him. While I was telling him this, the other line became silent. 

I continued, “The guy asked me why I wouldn’t kiss him.” 

“What did you tell him?” he replied from the other line. 

I said, “I told him I have a boyfriend.” Again, the silence. 

The sex was good. But it was not pleasurable. There was something missing. I wanted to tell him this but I didn’t. 

[Justin stopped walking to cross the street. He looked to his left and to his right. Then he proceeded, still deep in his thoughts.]

All I can think about right now are his piercing eyes. The way he stares at me just brings shivers down my spine. It makes my blood boil. The way he puts a toothpick between his teeth and bites it as he fixes his eyes on mine, watching me watching him. He never has to say anything, but every time he looks at me I know he is telling me he wants me, he needs me, he loves me. He taught me well when it comes to love and sex. I could have sex with a dozen men and not bullshit about love; Love, like he said, are straight people’s lame excuse so that they could get laid. Sex is quick and does not require any commitment. I know this, but I can’t see myself meeting up with another guy right now. And that one guy was just that one guy, nothing more, nothing less. But I don’t have the urge to go out again and sleep with other guys. Not with him in my mind. I still can smell his sweat, taste his mouth. How I yearn for him to cum inside me over and over again the way he used to. Shit, I need a smoke! 

[He stopped walking and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket. He took one out of the pack and lit it. Justin looked around him; Broadway was surely crowded with people, both residents and tourists, but mostly tourists. It looked so alive now that the sun was setting. The lights were even brighter and the busy sound of the streets got even busier. But he felt empty. He felt nothing. Only yearning. Yearning for the one thing that mattered in his life. New York City is such a lonely place. Right now for him, it was just another piece of land on the map without the trace of the footsteps of the man he wished to follow everywhere, anywhere. He started walking towards Radio City.]

The silence of the other line lasted for about ten seconds, and then he started telling me about Debbie. He said she was missing me badly. I’m missing her, too. And what a surprise, he said my mother stopped by the loft a week before. He said she wanted to say ‘Hello’. I saw my mother and Molly before I left for New York. She said to me that seeing me is like seeing Brian and vice versa. She said his face is written all over my face and mine is on his. My sadness must be very apparent for her to say such a thing. 

“I hope you weren’t fucking when she came over.” I was smirking when I said this to him. A slight giggle escaped my mouth. 

“Yeah, I wish I came, too,” was his reply. I can almost bet his lips were twisted in a mischievous, perverted smirk like they always do when he’s horny or thinking of something very naughty. 

God I wish he was here with me right now. I can think of a million things I’d do to him if he was. 

[He continued towards the Rockefeller Center. It stopped snowing although the wind was kind of chilly. He pulled his red hat all the way down to his ears, almost covering his eyes, strands of his blond hair poking his left eye. He stuck his finger in the hat to brush away the hair. His pace was slowing down, like his thoughts, completely focusing on the one face that was etched on his mind, the face of the man he loved. He took another breath of his cigarette.]

I wonder if it is as hard for him as it is for me being apart like this. I know what he did -- what we did -- was the right thing. I know I would never, ever be able to live my life, knowing that I tied him down. Marriage is not for him, I knew that from the very beginning. And yet he asked me, he proposed, and he was willing to give up everything, anything to make me happy, and he did. He gave me up to make me happy. But, am I? I will have the career I have been dreaming about and wanting since I was a child. I know nothing is impossible here in New York. I will be what I’ve always wanted to be. And I believe his words; I’m going to be fine, I will be okay. But there’s this yearning deep within me that overpowers everything else.

I remember my teacher back in high school asked me once, “What does yearning mean?” I answered, “Yearning is when you want something really badly, so badly it hurts.” Then he said to the class that it needs to hurt to be worthy of the word. This feeling of loneliness within me grows much deeper each minute I am apart from him, and I can only compare it to an open wound, drenched in sea water, the cut stinging from the salt. Did I do the right thing? Did I? Apparently, since I’ve pondered every point and reason of our decision, and still asking myself the same old question, I didn’t. The point that I am still young and life is still ahead of me, as I realized later on, is not excuse enough to drive me away. I was 17 when I met him, and at that very first moment I laid eyes on him, I knew that I wanted him. I belonged to him and he belonged to me.

So why did we part? Was it because our love for each other was not enough? Was it because it was just too much to change for someone you love? I don’t think so. I think we loved each other so much that we couldn’t see each other sacrificing who we were for each other’s happiness. Is he happy? I know I make him happy, but he sacrificed his happiness for me, no matter how I look at it. If it was the right thing to do, why doesn’t it feel that way? 

[Justin ended up by the ice skating rink. There were a few people skating, not minding the coldness of the weather. He leaned on the rail when one particular boy, skating with his father, caught his attention. Justin guessed the boy was about eight years old. He could hear the boy’s laughter. He fell three times already but he never seemed to mind, for his father was there to catch him. His thoughts once again flew.]

How is he getting by without me by his side? How am I going to get by without him? 

[He decided to walk away, throwing his already dead cigarette in a trashcan he passed by. He headed towards the subway. It was getting dark, he needed to get home. He had a lot of stuff to do. It might have been the weekend, but it wasn’t going to be an easy one for him. He had to prepare for an exhibit that would be held four months from now. Justin reached the subway that was overcrowded with people trying to get home. People were trying to go see their families, their girlfriends or boyfriends, their pet dogs or cats. He was just one of them, although he wasn’t going home to anybody but an old cramped apartment which he shared with a person he hardly knew. The train pulled up. People came rushing out of the open doors like water escaping a broken dam. Justin let out a sigh and boarded with the other people. Standing right next to the window by the door, he rested his head on the glass and closed his eyes.]

How am I going to get through all this if I can’t stop thinking about him? Is it worth it, Justin? If this is the dream I’ve always dreamed of -- if this is going to be the life with him miles and miles away from me, not seeing his face everyday, not feeling his fingers running through my hair -- then it is not. 

[Justin made a decision the same time the train reached a complete stop. Making his way out of the train, he once again looked around. HE WAS GOING HOME. With this thought, his steps became lighter. The bounce in his walk came back and a smile started forming on his lips. He headed towards the street where his apartment was located. Still high with thoughts of love and hope, he failed to notice a pair of hazel eyes watching him as he approached the front building of his apartment. The owner’s lips were a little twisted from a suppressed smile. Justin started towards the building  with his head down, his hand in his bag, busily searching for his key. Then he lifted his head to cross the road and saw: HIM. The tall, lean figure he came to memorize even in the dark.  A car passed by,  but his eyes didn’t move away from his face. His lips, even the tips of his fingers, knew every detail of this man’s body. The dark, smooth hair and piercing hazel eyes that never failed to melt him down, but at the same time assured him that he was always going to be there for him. Justin was always going to be the only one. He looked a lot thinner from the last time he saw him. But it was him! The face of God was once again staring down at him, and his arms were wide open waiting for him.]
To be continued.