Jan. 19, 1942

Adam asked if I believe in true love. We were walking through the forest after we had gone to spend some time alone together. I told him I wasn’t sure, and that I’d believe it if I saw it. He was fake offended and said that if that’s how I felt, then he’d go find someone else to devote his time to. We had a good laugh, and he told me he wanted to kiss me again. I think I said something like “just a kiss? After all we just did?” He didn’t say anything, and just kissed me where we were. It was one of those ones that makes you go weak in the knees and your heart skip a beat. I don’t think I’ve ever been so in love before in my life. I hate how much we have to keep it a secret. This might just be me waxing poetic, but I’ll most likely never love someone quite as much as I love him.

                                                           ~*~

The drugs have taken effect.

He’s sitting in the back of a nightclub, eyes lidded as he watches the people on the dancefloor writhe against one another. He can feel the thrumming bass-heavy music beating in his chest like a second heart. A girl at a far table is making eyes at him over her brightly-colored drink. He laughs to himself and stands up, keeping a hand on the table to maintain balance. The girl does the same, her smile growing. As she moves toward him, Eli turns away, heading in the direction of the bar.

It’s rude, he knows, but he’s just not interested in her. No, he needs something different tonight.

Different comes in the form of a young man sitting at the end of the bar, glaring into his drink.

You’ll do. 

He walks over, taking a deep breath as he does in order to clear his fog-filled head. As he approaches, he takes in more of the young man: His hair is long, but not overly so, reaching about halfway down the back of his neck. His eyes are dark with shadows hidden behind them. He’s pretty; almost as though he dressed up specifically for tonight. Despite it, his clothes are plain; a pair of tight ripped-up jeans slung low on his hips and a simple t-shirt that shows off the dip of his throat. As Eli gets closer, he can see how young the boy actually is. He looks far below the legal age, and by the time he gets to the bar, he’s pretty sure the “drink” is just water in a pretty glass.

“Hey,” Eli leans on the bar next to him. “What’s your poison?”

The boy snorts, “How cliché.” He turns away slightly, crossing his legs.

“Just wanted to buy you a drink.” He faces forward and signals the bartender. “You’re too young to be in here anyway.”

The boy turns back to him, a devilish twinkle in his eyes. "You think so?”

The older boy smiles and nods, “I’ll let you in on a secret.” He leans forward to whisper, “I am too.”

The boy stares at him blankly, his drink suspended on the way to his mouth. “And I care…?”

Eli shrugs, “You’ve got a point.” He smiles at the bartender and orders a drink. It’s something expensive and fruity, and he regrets it after the first sip. He audibly gags and sets the glass down, shaking his head.

The boy has turned away and is talking to another man, leaning forward and feigning interest in what he’s saying. Eli can’t hear what they’re discussing, but it doesn’t stop him from watching. The man sways slightly and leans in, placing his hand on the boy’s hips. The young man puts his finger over his lips and shakes his head, leaning in to tell the man something. He quickly digs around for his wallet; his face falling when he opens it. The boy shrugs and turns away, picking his drink up again. The man protests, but eventually gives up and stumbles away, head hanging in defeat.

“So you’re a prostitute then.” It’s not a question.

The boy shrugs, finishing his drink, “The nice word for it is ‘escort’.” He stands up, “And I’m officially off the clock. Nice talking to you.”

Eli leans over, putting his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “How much for a night?”

“I just told you I’m off for the night.” He shrugs Eli’s hand off and turns to go. He hesitates for a moment, seeming to be considering something. He turns back to Eli, his dark eyes flicking along the taller man’s form. “Five hundred.”

Eli smiles, knocking back the rest of his disgusting drink from earlier. He winces and shudders, setting the glass on the bar top. “I live right around the corner.”

The boy nods and starts for the door, not checking to see if Eli’s following him. The night air is cold, and as they walk, Eli can feel goosebumps scatter across his skin. He takes a pack of cigarettes out and places one between his lips, breaking his stride to light it; he holds out the pack, “Want one?”

The young man shakes his head, and in the light from the streetlamps, Eli can see that his hair is dyed purple.

“So what’s your name, kid?”

There’s a moment of silence before, “Ashlyn.” He looks up at Eli. “What’s yours?”

“Do you really care?” Eli walks up the steps to a large apartment building and punches in the code to unlock the door. Gesturing for Ashlyn to follow him down the dark hallways and into an elevator.

“Not really,” Ashlyn smiles, there’s no real joy behind it. “But I want to know whose name I’m going to be screaming.”

Eli laughs and pushes open the door to an apartment. It’s the size of a penthouse with a metal spiral staircase to the side of the living room leading up to a second floor that’s mostly unseen. Ashlyn stays quiet and still as he looks around. What walls aren’t exposed brick are painted a light, shimmering gold color. Against the far wall is a large gun cabinet with decorative glass as doors. There’s a large--what must be mahogany--bar to the right covered in glasses and a variety of expensive-looking bottles.

Eli sheds his jacket, dropping it on one of the red leather bar stools. “Want a drink?”

The boy shakes his head, “I don’t drink.”

Eli laughs and pours himself something. “So that was water.”

He nods, “It’s too easy for people to take advantage of me, so I don’t make myself vulnerable.”

“Makes sense.” Eli looks Ashlyn over, his golden eyes taking in every bit of his slight form. “You’re skinny.”

Ashlyn shrugs, turning away to look around the room one more time.

“Bedroom’s down the hallway there.” Eli points to a door on the far side of the room. “You can go get ready if you want.”

Ashlyn steps closer to Eli, pressing a hand to the taller man’s chest. “I’m ready now.”

Eli smiles and takes the boy’s hand, pulling him down the hall and to the bedroom.

Kissing Ashlyn is different. Eli has gotten used to constant breaking for soft giggles or gentle moans. There’s none of that now. Ashlyn is teeth, and tongue, and fire. He bites at Eli’s lips and yanks his hair, falling backward onto the bed, and making sure Eli lands over him. Ashlyn’s skin is soft, but his roaming hands are rough and demanding. He grinds his hips up against Eli’s and drags his nails down the man’s back. Eli laughs and undoes Ashlyn’s pants, sliding his hand inside to feel him more. Ashlyn leans his head back to moan and spread his legs wider.

“Want me to fuck you, baby?”

Ashlyn sits up, pulling his shirt off and tossing it to the side. “More than anything.”

Eli grins and kisses Ashlyn again, reaching over to turn the bedside light off, and enveloping the room in darkness.

Eli has marks down his back, left by Ashlyn’s nails. He’s panting, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. The younger man lets out a long breath, pushing his messy hair back.

“I like that purple.” Eli sits up and slides out of bed, finding his jeans.

“Thanks.” Ashlyn stays where he is, lying on his back in the ruined sheets. “Your hair’s interesting.”

“It’s a genetics thing, actually. People in my family get white hair really young.” Eli fastens his belt, “I’ve never dyed it or bleached it. My little sister had it too.”

Ashlyn nods, not giving a verbal response. There’s a click to his left, and the boy opens his eyes, meeting the barrel of a gun. He starts laughing, a bitter sound that would make anyone else’s blood turn cold. He grins and licks his lips. “And now you’re gonna fucking kill me.” He starts laughing again, “You’re such a fucking disappointment.”

Eli smiles, tilting his head slightly. “Who said I’m going to kill you?” In one movement, he turns the gun and pulls the trigger, sending the bullet through Ashlyn’s shoulder.

The boy’s eyes widen, and he lets out a horrified scream, twisting and writhing in pain. He grips onto the sheets, shaking and starting to cry. Eli smiles, lowering himself to the side of the bed to watch Ashlyn thrash around and suffer.