2. If I Had A Heart

JASPER

"Remind me again, how long have you been playing house with this one?" Terra quipped, not bothering to look up from her most recent work. Terra was twenty-three, and convinced she was wise to the ways of the world. She knew a lot, yes, but only about a small handful of things, none of them useful outside of the world of art. But, she was loyal, a good friend who never tried to Jasper's endless quest for love. 

"Playing implies that there is not future, no serious commitment made here, and I assure you, that there is." Jasper's tone was mildly scolding, but on the whole affectionate. 

He knew what his friends had thought of Roz when they had first gotten together; a lost sheep Jasper wanted to protect, with wounds that haunted him, and Jasper wanted to heal them. Truthfully, he had a sort of gift for picking the broken ones, he could choose a scarred and damaged man out of the crowd. But what damned him was his nature, his instinct to tend their wounds, to pour his whole self into them so that they might be built up again, stronger. His tools were empathy and an endless capacity to love, and it was, at the very least, out of place in this world. 

The ability to love limit and condition had left him broken and abandoned many times before; but Jasper could only be exactly who he was, and so, certain things could not be avoided. 

Regardless of his past, he had been hopeful when meeting anyone new. But, Roz was different; there was a different element to their relationship that Jasper had never experienced before. He wasn't willing to share this unknown with Terra - she didn't believe in such things. 

Terra huffed, "Are you sure? You said that about Anthony, and we all know how that turned out." She slid out from under the desk she had been working at, pulling her black coat off the back of the chair, and brushing the hair from her eyes. 

Terra was 5'10 inches, barefoot, and boasted curves that most women envied and men lusted after. Her chest-length hair was naturally the color of burnt copper, but she was fond of dying it unnatural colors. It was currently an interesting shade of sea-green; she was beautiful, no question about it. There was, however, one slight catch; her personality was something similar to that of an agitated porcupine.

Even now, Jasper could hear her quills rustling.

Jasper met the young woman's piercing gaze with tight lips and narrowed eyes. It was understood that Anthony was never to be mentioned, under any circumstances. To speak the name was forbidden. 

"The two are not comparable; you know that as well as I do." Jasper was the first to break eye contact, returning the most recent painting he'd been working on. A scene of a graveyard, the one Roz had described to him half a hundred times, where his grandfather had been buried. The most important part of the town he'd left behind when certain secrets had been revealed. 

Jasper was hoping that when it was finished, Roz would feel less homesick, more at ease with California in general. He claimed he was happy here, and most of the time, that was probably true. But every now and again, he would retreat into himself, smoke cigarette after cigarette on the balcony and stare at the sea for hours. What was on his mind, Jasper didn't know, and he thought it better not to ask. 

The sound of Terra's footsteps on the cement floor of his studio were the only reply she gave, and Jasper was grateful for that. He didn't have it in him to discuss this, not again. He had hoped that Terra's suspicions regarding his boyfriend would have dissolved as time passed, but that wasn't the case. The rest of his friends, even his brother, Finn, had warmed up to the younger man, agreeing that he loved Jasper dearly and treated him well. 

Jasper, not for the first time, hoped that it was simply Terra's general distrust for humans that kept her doubts alive, and not something else entirely. 

~

Jasper and Roz sat at their small kitchen table, the overhead light on low, outside the first storm of winter raged, thunder without lightning.

 "I wasn't raised in any sort of church; God was someone that might exist, but my parents never felt the need to search for him." Roz lazily stirred his cup of black coffee; his voice was low, but calm.

Jasper listened to the easy tranquility of the other man's voice, and fought back a smile. Very rarely had he heard Roz speak with such comfort and ease; however, his uneasy and rushed way of speaking was gradually giving way to a shaky sense of confidence. It would take time for Roz to speak without fear, but all things worth having took time.

Jasper nodded and sipped his own coffee, heavily sweetened. He swallowed, and cleared his throat before replying, "The way I was taught was more spiritual than religious; it was more about keeping old traditions alive, and staying in touch with our ancestry."

Roz's brow furrowed slightly, but his brown eyes glowed with curiosity, "There's a difference between being religious and spiritual?", he asked.

"For me, there is. But, most people might argue that the two are one and the same. One day I will find a way to properly explain it to you."

Roz glanced out the kitchen window, and Jasper followed gaze; rain was still pouring down without pause. Outside, the ocean roared and pitched like a living thing; Jasper wondered if he would ever find the words to explain that, to him, the sea was more than just water.

Thunder cracked overhead, shaking the windows, and the sound could be felt in their bones. Where Roz flinched at the sound, Jasper had only smiled.

Jasper leaned forward on his elbows, drawing Roz's attention back to him as he spoke, "Old stories say that when there is thunder, the God, Thor, is beating His anvil. In His hand, Mjölnir, His great hammer." Jasper reached down, and took the pendant in his hand, letting it catch the light. 

It was a small piece, made of silver, and it hung around his neck on a dark leather cord. Roz leaned forward, intently studying the pendant, as if it were the very hammer itself.

"Thor is the protector of this world, Midgard, and all that dwell within. He keeps us safe from the giants of Jötunheimr; and, when Ragnarök* comes, He will defeat The World Serpent**, but die from It's venom." Jasper's voice had fallen to a whisper, thick with reverence. 

Roz peered up at him thorugh his inky black hair, eyes wide with wonder, "Do you really believe that?"

Jasper let the pendant fall against his chest, and knotted his hand through the other man's hair, "If I said I do, would that change your opinion of me."

Roz chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully, then set leaned back against his chair and stated calmly, "If you had asked me this earlier in my life, I would have told you that they were just stories. But, I don't see why this can't be as true as anything else."

Jasper smiled, and took a gulp of his coffee, and listened carefully for another boom of thunder.

 

 

ROZ

Almost a month had passed since Roz had sent the letter to Andy, almost a month of silence, of no reply. Almost a month of guilt for keeping it from Jasper; but as more time passed, Roz began to wonder if it was really necessary for Jasper to know. This world had far too many blurred lines for his liking, and the vast majority of them could be found in romantic relationships.

It was just civil communication, there was nothing else behind it, but if that were really true, why the guilt? Why spend so much time tossing and turning at night while his boyfriend slept soundly?

His feelings had never made sense to him before; it was unlikely that they would bend to reason now.

Roz took his long-cold cup of coffee and stood from the kitchen table where he and Jasper had been sitting for hours. The storm had quieted down almost an hour ago, and when the thunder had stopped, Jasper excused himself to his studio to paint. Roz had stayed in his seat and watched the rain fall against the window, and let his thoughts wash him away, much like the rolling sea outside.

 Roz dumped the liquid into the sink, and set the cup on the counter, attempting to tread water in the swirling current of his thoughts. He did think of Andy as often anymore, and what had once been a horrible ache somewhere behind his lungs was now only a small pinch every now and then. He knew he was healing, in some manner, but he often found himself wondering how Andy had come out of it. 

Roz had been removed from the situation, at his parents demand and concern for his safety. His coming out to them hadn't been nearly as horrible as he'd always imagined - his mother had told him that she'd always known, deep down. His father had chimed in with a comment about his continued attempts to kiss his male friends while playing as a child had been a clear giveaway. 

Roz had been silent then, staring at the floor and thinking of all the days he'd spent suffering needlessly, it turned out. 

So much of his life had been wasted time; time spent hiding and imagining rather than acting. Perhaps that was why he had plunged ahead and let himself be uprooted and replanted across the country.

He hated himself for leaving Andy behind, but had no regrets about escaping the small town, and settling in a much more gay friendly state. He felt safe, for the first time since he was a little kid, he was safe enough to live the life he had always been meant to live. He hoped with all he had that Andy would be free to live as well, if he hadn't achieved that already. 

Stepping away from the counter and patting his jean pocket - searching for his cigarettes and lighter - he opened the sliding glass door and stepped out onto the balcony. The wood was soak and stone cold, the wind that had been tearing through the palm trees had now eased to a strong tug. Rain still fell steadily, but under the awning of the condo, Roz remained dry. 

 

After lighting up, Roz leaned against the stucco walls of the condo and closed his eyes. Images of the night before played behind his lids; he and Jasper tangled in the sheets, tangled in each other, hot and sweaty bodies writhing and moving together. He could feel Jasper's skin against his, the slightly scruffy feeling of the other man's cheek cupped in his hand. Roz could feel the skin of Jasper's back against his slightly chapped lips; he remembered wrapping his legs around Jasper's broad, strong back, and falling asleep with his head on Jasper's chest.

What can be better than that? Is there anything more beautiful than a man? If I had a choice between seeing the sun, and never seeing another man - naked or otherwise - again, I'd give up the sun gladly. I haven't found anything I love half as much as the feeling of a man's skin and hair, the sound of his laugh and voice husky from sleep. Nothing can ever feel as good as wrapping your arms around them, your hand on the back of their neck as lips come together. Nothing.

Roz took a final drag off the cigarette and knelt to the ground, snuffing it out against the drenched wood. The wind's icy fingers reached through his clothes and pinched his cheeks, and, for a moment, Roz found himself thinking of snowy winters back home, of graves covered in fresh power, undisturbed and at peace. For the briefest of moments, he was homesick.

Padding back to the door, he stepped inside, and crossed into the living room, which was just beside the kitchen. He sat on the hardwood floor, in front of the fire place and studied the charred logs carefully. 

A few were too burned to be much in the way of fuel, so he took the poker and broke the ashen logs to pieces, making way for new wood. As the pile of ash grew larger, Roz remembered building fires against the first snow, the first snow of the season was always light, but it still took time to adjust to the winter cold. He mother had loved building fires, and waited all year for the excuse of snow to keep one burning daily. 

Jasper enjoyed a good fire, but didn't have the respect for it that comes from growing up with white winters. He had lived in California his entire life, and knew nothing of real cold, Roz had learned. The lowest the temperature got here was maybe high 40s, snow was extremely rare and sent Californians to panic. 

They thrived on sunlight and near-constant blue skies, autumn in California was almost non-existent, Roz had learned his first year in the state. Unless you knew what signs to look for, you would miss it completely. Winter itself only lasted at most, a month, and all it gave was rain, and blue skies with chilly winds. 

One lesson that California had taught Roz was the lesson of summer. Summers started early, and ended late on the west coast, and they came with teeth and dry heat. A week spent in triple digits was common, and Roz had spent too many hours in dripping humidity than he cared to think of. But, he would put up with the weather if it meant he was in a more tolerant place; home was not safe, and had never been safe. Not for him, not for those like him, and he had no intention of going back.

 

ANDY

Andy threw his notebooks in his bag, letting his other classmates leave the lecture hall before him. He was in no great rush to go back to his apartment, assignments waited for him there, papers and notes to go over and highlight, and he didn't feel like spending another 3 hours behind a desk just yet. 

Andy was sophomore at the community college at Midlton, the neighboring town to the one he'd grown up in. His apartment was nestled in one of the various college neighborhoods in town, just a few blocks from the campus. It wasn't as far from his home town that he would like to be, but it would have to do; luckily Midlton Community College was larger than he had first thought, and he was able to get lost in the throng of bodies, all but leaving his past behind him.

I can never leave it behind me, it hides inside me somewhere, waiting for the perfect time to reappear and ruin everything I've tried so hard to build.

Pulling the strap of his bag over one shoulder, Andy slid out of the row of desks, and headed slowly out the open door and into the fall chill. Leaves were changing colors, gold, russet, deep brown, and some trees seemed to almost be aflame with color. Fog covered the ground early in the morning, and at night, giving the town a ghostly feel when coupled with a full yellow moon. 

It was only mid-September, but Andy could feel Christmas holidays creeping up on him, like a predator stalking its prey. The last two Christmases, he'd been left to celebrate alone, not even his sister had reached out to him during the season. Not that he had expected that, but the silence hurt just the same, and it would hurt again this year.

Although, he wasn't completely alone, not as he had been when he'd first moved to Midlton - he'd developed friendships with some of his classmates, Viv being chief among them. They had gotten much closer since Andy agreed to do interviews for her radio show back in the beginning of the school year, so there was a decent chance he would be able to celebrate with someone this year. 

One friend was better than no one at all.

Andy admired the array of colors, the chatter of people around him, and made his way to the parking lot. He wasn’t sure where he would go, but it wasn’t back home, not yet. He felt the urge to drive until his tank was empty, get out and simply stand wherever he had ended up. He could do just that, in theory, but in practice he was not brave enough to do something so flighty.

A few years ago, he counted his cautious nature among his many faults, but he had learned that being cautious would keep him safe �" as safe as he could be, in any case.

He would have been safer if he’d refused to broadcast his past, the most intimate parts of himself on radio, but he had long since gotten restless in his closet. He might not be brave enough to leave at a moment’s notice, but he was brave enough to come out and come clean and that was no small thing.

No one had said anything, at least not directly, but Andy was certain he was talked about behind his back; but, that was nothing he was not used to. He’d been whispered about since losing his parents, but people were no longer referring to him as ‘the orphan kid’ but as ‘the gay kid’.

Sure there had to be other gays in Midlton, but it wasn’t as if they walked around with signs blinking overhead. That would make finding friends much easier, that was for sure, but that wasn’t the way of the world.

He crossed the college green slowly, letting his mind wander freely �" to a point �" he refused to let his thoughts wander anywhere near Roz. It would not happen, not today, he needed one day free of thoughts about how he should reply to the letter. His life was more than just an almost-relationship with a boy in high school.

Although that wasn’t quite true yet, he was determined to make it true soon. Truth be told, Andy was tired of spending most of his free time nursing his wounds and day dreaming about seeing Roz again, it simply wasn’t healthy. He would allow himself to reply to the letter, but he needed to keep a safe distance from the matter entirely.

But some part of Andy nagged at him, reminded him that Roz had a strong sort of gravity about him. It drew Andy closer and closer, ever so slowly and in the smallest ways. There was a decent chance that Andy might end up elbow deep in something without even realizing it, and that was the last thing he needed right now.

Andy shook his head and locked those thoughts away, he could find a balance here, and he was capable of that much, at least. He wasn’t the same person he’d been then, and Roz had to be different as well; Andy didn’t see how you could go through what they had gone through and come away from it unchanged.

Without thinking, he pushed the left sleeve of his white long sleeved shirt up to the elbow, and ran his right index finger along the ragged scar there.  Being with Roz had not only left him with emotional wounds, but physical ones as well, and that scar would forever serve as a reminder of how dangerous this world could be for someone like Andy.