3.

La Petite Mort

When it got to be too much they pressed their mouths into the dingy pillows. They spoke quietly, their breathing coming in short, quick gasps so not to wake up the other inmates. How they got away with it they did not know. It was noon. The sun burned overhead fiercely through the small windows. The others played outside, throwing leather balls or smoking cigarettes.

Matthew and Gilbert remained in the laundry room, nearly spent. Clawing at flesh, biting lips, and gorging on each other's bodies until they quivered with such bliss their grunts turned to groans and their mutterings turned to shrill exclamations.

Gilbert rolled over, sweating, and placed his arms on Matthew's back. Matthew lowered his head, tingling. The air was dusty. Dappled sunlight fell on their heads and hair, catching in their fine eyelashes and reflecting their eyes with some glow akin to hope.

The pressure grew and grew and grew until something snapped, turning the world dark and afterwards causing a pleasuring throb to ripple through their groins and stomachs. Even the lusty kisses and pained moans were no match to that patch of darkness.

That patch of death.

La Petite Mort

Whatdya say, Mattie?

The Little Death, that's what we call it.

Oh.

The darkness that swallowed them up until they shuddered violently, crazy in love and crazy with passion

The darkness that engulfed their logic and reason, crushing it into powder

The darkness

The Death

I don't want to die, Gil.

Well get used to it, we're dying one second at a time.

No, I know that, it's just…

Just what, Mattie? You can tell me. I'm 'fraid too.

Gilbert was an animal, he knew that. He was a big animal in a tiny cage. At first he revolted, against teachers, against parents, against siblings. Then he got used to being crushed under the bars, with occasionally snaps and clawing at the bars. Then he hated it again, got restless, got uncomfortable, and started to bite and tear without any method just pure fury and distress and sorrow and hopelessness. He grabbed the bars and shook them, watching as shadows flicked by his cage and laughing children pointed at the silly albino thing in the cage. Haha! Look at that, Ma, it's mad! Hey, stupid! You mad?

Hey fucker, shut the fuck up you fuck shit.

Gil, are you okay?

Gilbert looked up at Matthew, his eyes softening. He reached up and placed his lips against the other's coarse ones and they dove into the darkness again.

What did Matthew have to fear? He made a stupid mistake. He shouldn't be worrying about death because it was a long ways away. He was in prison for another month. That's okay. That's just dandy. But he didn't need to fear the Electric Chair like his brother or fear the police anymore. He was a convict but he was morally unobligated to fear. He was just Matthew, sweet, kind Matthew who was crazy in love with Gilbert and would break the moon into tiny pieces just for love since that's what he was born for.

The doors rattled against the locks. Matthew rolled off Gilbert and grabbed his clothing. They made as if they were cleaning up the room, giving the other inmates, in search of something to destroy, probably themselves, a cheeky grin.

The other inmates approached them slowly. At the front was a pimply young man with bad hair and eyes like drops of oil. Behind him was an obese, bearded man with a tattoo of a naked woman on a bicycle across one bicep. The other was small, a writer probably, with mean eyes.

"What do you want?" Matthew asked. His back throbbed. He could still feel the fullness there and the sweet tingly of Gilbert's kiss hugged his tongue.

"Nothing really," the main, youngest one said, swinging his arms at his side. "We just want a little fun."

Fight.

Fight!

FIGHT!

Gilbert hit the ground, his face bleeding against the floor and making a mask there with ovals for eyes and a smear of his right cheek. He stood up and knocked them around. Matthew lingered, trying to be docile, but he was hit in the stomach soon enough.

The darkness came again, out of joy, out of the freedom of scuffing it up a little. When the officials arrived Gilbert shoved Matthew to the ground, his hand around his neck. He leaned closer so only Matthew could hear his whisper.

"Pretend like you were caught up in a storm. You have no right to be here."

Matthew went limp because Gilbert cuffed his head as a warning. The officials took Matthew out and gave him a lighter punishment than the others.

As Gilbert went along, head bowed, with them to the padded room where the insane go, he blew Matthew a kiss and winked. Matthew stared forlornly.

A little death.

Eternity.