Accepting
Chapter Three
Alexander awoke to a soft pastel of blue lighting. He sat up in a slight daze and looked around at his surroundings. It seemed as if he were at sea and the fog had just rolled in for the morning dawn. The sweet scent of the mist burned at his nostrils and wafted around him in a gentle breeze. He could almost hear the light sound of crashing waves beyond the cover of mist, as though they were smothered in a blanket of cloud.
Alexander stood at the sound of softly padding feet coming in his direction. He squinted, but couldn't manage to spy anything past the cloud cover. And then he heard the comforting hum of singing drift into the wind, heard the voice that his soul could never forget, no matter what time, place, or afterlife he ever found himself in. He listened as the lonely, sad song became louder and more contented with the singer's approach and smiled slowly has the haze lifted, admitting the smiling blue-eyed warrior. Alexander breathed deeply as he closed his eyes and a powerful burst of rain filled breeze and light washed over him, a warm embrace guiding his path back towards the salty sand and dark contentment.
The bright, sickeningly fluorescent lighting of the subway car shown over Alistair's short golden curls like spun honey. The day was to be warm and bright, not at all like it had been the past few months and showed a good promise for the future spring. The city was alive, even at the deathly early hour that it was. People drove or walked home from clubs, smoked on the sidewalks, screamed out of their windows. New York City seemed the place of action in the shadow of early dawn, inviting anyone to join in on the adventure, never fully asleep.
Alistair yawned hugely as he shifted in his seat and wrapped the thick, goose down ski coat around him tighter. The subway car didn't have heating and Alistair highly doubted that the station manager even cared. However, he could only guess the obscenities that were flooding every person's mind on the car because it was too fucking cold to be taking the subway that day. His warm hazel, corn yellow eyes took in the activity that swarmed around him. An exhausted looking woman held her two children tightly to her as they squirmed and tried the slip from under her arms. Her mocha skin telling him she was probably going to achieve skin cancer later in her life if the color weren't her natural tone. Alistair sighed regretfully. No one wore sun block like they were supposed to. It was a forgotten piece of advice that doctors like him gave all the time. It was almost as if they were all mothers and their children never listened to their warnings to "keep away from the cookie jar because it'll spoil their dinner." But he supposed that after the first chemo treatment it would open their eyes as to how important protecting their skin really was. Of course, many individuals never contracted skin cancer, but that didn't mean the sun didn't have any damaging effects on frail skin. It left dark rings under people's eyes or dark splotches all across their skin in later years, and made a person look fifteen years older than they usually were because of the wear and tear the skin had been through. Such lovely skin, wasted away, and for what? A lousy tan for one summer to impresses some dickhead that'll dump her as soon as he hears about the kids and gets a piece of her ass… Such a shame.
Alistair looked away from the woman and her rowdy children and took comfort in the knowledge that at least some people heeded the sensible warnings that doctors such as he gave. But it was still just too damn early in the morning to think anymore. He just wanted to crawl back into his big, soft bed and curl up behind his fiancée, Bridget. She was usually agreeable enough to sleep next to, but that was all he could really ask for in a woman he hardly ever saw anymore and who still hadn't been able to marry them off since he had proposed. But that was his work and she had long since understood that he was a doctor first and then her boyfriend. She at least understood more so than any other past ex-girlfriend he had had.
Alistair sighed. Thinking about Bridget was the wrong thing to do, he realized. Now he was tense and wary, thinking of the argument he would have to shout his way out of when he returned home to sleep for a few fleeting hours during the morning. For however much Bridget understood his work and his priorities she still bitched as if a fox were invading her hen's nest. And to be under that kind of scrutiny at such an ungodly hour of the day was a miserable thought. Grin and bear it, just grin and bear it. Fucking women.
The train pulled to a jolting stop and Alistair gathered himself up, shuffling through the tangle of bodies trying to get off and onto the car. When he was finally able to squeeze himself through the small opening of people a huge sewer rat scurried across his foot and under a dozen other people's. "Oh, my god! What the fuck! Fucking, goddamned… What the fuck!" Alistair flailed wildly with his briefcase, pushing into people and hitting others as he tried vainly to get as far away from the vicinity of where the rat had gone. Alistair didn't care that the little beasts where known and worshiped as gods in other countries; the fact of it was that the miniature demons weren't here and if Alistair could manage it, he'd kill as many of the little devils he could on sight, or run away in a horribly embarrassing manner of which he was currently trying to do. "Did you see that? A fucking… Huge! Huge…" Alistair shook his head and frantically tiptoed his way across the platform of goggle-eyed onlookers, and straight into a very flabbergasted person's chest.
Alistair looked upwards and was instantly stunned speechless by bright blue eyes framed by long dark lashes, and a striking pang of recognition. Alistair shook himself, realizing that he had been staring at the poor man, not to mention pressed indecently close to the stranger's very fine structured chest. Alistair deduced that the man must work out daily to be in such good shape and form. Chuckling, Alistair stepped back from the confused looking brunette, patting down the man's chest and arms, straightening out his already straight dress shirt and dark wool coat. "So, how about that Nix game the other night? Good?" At the brunette's silence, Alistair nodded his head and stepped to the side, "Good!"
But before the blonde could take more than a few steps in the direction of the stairs leading to the surface station, the brunette had a hold on his arm, putting a stop to his getaway plan. "Hey!" Alistair turned around to face the tall man, readying himself for the harsh lecture to "watch where he was going." But the brunette only stuck out his hand and, Alistair had to admit, flashed one the most dazzling and beautiful smiles he had ever had the pleasure of seeing.
Alistair stared at the straight row of teeth for a moment before blinking and shaking the other man's hand, dumbstruck by the kindness in the gesture. This was New York City, not Pleasantville. The brunette laughed a bit scratching at his head of short wavy hair, and grabbing Alistair's hand in a firm grip, "My name's Theron… Are you alright?" The blonde blinked rapidly, looking down at Theron's hand clutching his and then around at the very nearly empty train platform. "I saw you freaking out back there. Rat, right?"
Alistair's eyebrows rose in question before realization dawned on him like a slap to the face. "Oh! Oh, yes. Yes, a huge little monster! That devil creature could have taken my head off! Did you see that?" The blonde looked around, motioning with his arms and sizing the creature up from point A (his right hand) to point B (his left hand). Theron laughed at the other man's disgruntled disposition, liking the sudden flush to the blonde's cheeks and excited gleam to his eyes. "It was this big! I would have killed it, but those demons are fast! Did you see how the foam was lathering at its mouth? I swear it was going to eat me, I could see it in its eyes…" At the emphasized hiss of "eyes" Alistair's own squinted and he pointed to his right one.
Theron only grinned at the hysterical display of behavior. He had never met anyone quite like the blonde before and in some odd way it soothed him. It made him feel as though he had finally arrived at some place, at some point in time that he had always sought for but had never been able to find until the very moment he had laid eyes on the small blonde coming out of the train car. Taking the other man's waving arm, Theron started to escort the blonde up the platform stairs, nodding encouragingly.
Alistair stopped, his voice dying as he looked into Theron's eyes and smiled. "My name is Alistair, by-the-way." The blonde suddenly looked down and then to the side, considering his words before he spoke, "Theron… Have…we met before?" He chuckled and shook his head, rolling his eyes as he sighed. "I'm sorry, I know it sounds ridiculous considering I really don't believe we've ever met, and the fact that I most certainly would have remembered a face as handsome as yours…" Alistair's eyes widened, his babbling coming to a tailing hiss only to start off again with renewed zest filled with fervor apologies, when the other man sealed his mouth shut with a press of firm lips against his.
Alistair's eyelids slowly dropped closed and he leaned into the kiss as Theron's arms came up to frame his face and then travel back through his curly blonde hair. As they finally broke apart for air Alistair gripped the fabric of Theron's wool coat and breathed out a breathy sigh. The brunette rested his forehead against Alistair's and chuckled. "I don't know why, but I have a feeling I know you very well, Alistair."
The blonde opened his eyes and grinned sheepishly, "Yeah…but what am I going to tell my ex-girlfriend now?"
Author's Note: Sequel anyone? Just give me a shout out!