Unwilling to Be Yours

Another QueerBlogWed where I’m not here, but Peter is more than happy to carry on in my absence with the next part of Unwilling to Be Yours.


I scrambled off of him, before I remembered my manners.

I leaned forward to offer him a hand.

He stared at my fingers with the most heartbroken look of despair I’d ever seen.

Uh oh. I must have triggered a memory of the lost Damian.

“Never offer me a hand.” He lifted himself off the floor, nearly tripping over his own limbs. “I know better than to accept it, now.”

“Do you regret accepting his?” I’m not sure why I asked the question. It was tactless. It was pushy.

I didn’t take it back. I stood there, still holding my hand out towards him.
“Do you truly regret it?”

I half expected to have my hand slapped away. At the very least, I’d get a chilly retort.

Christopher didn’t slap me or snap at me. He raised his head, considering my words. He studied my fingers with a slow, lingering attention which was almost intimate.

If only he’d been looking at me. Not wishing for someone else.

“No.” The word was filled with unshed tears. “No, I don’t. He brought me into a whole new world.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “A world I’m glad to be a part of, even if he’s no longer in it.

“Don’t distance yourself from that world.” I wasn’t entirely sure what I was talking about, but my mouth seemed to have a will of its own. “Not if you want to continue to be a part of it.”

He stared at me, as if he was seeing me for the first time. His lips parted slightly, as his eyelashes lowered.

“You’re right.” He turned away from me and walked in the other direction, leaving me with shattered rubble on the floor.

Ah well, its demise had been brought on by my own inattention.

I was strangely glad it had. This was the closest I’d come to getting a smile out of Christopher.

Unwilling to Be Yours

Another Me Me Monday with no me, but Peter and Unwilling to Be Yours continue their journey…


Christopher was right below the falling object. Lost in his own thoughts, oblivious to his own peril.

I lunged at him, shoved him out of the way, losing my own balance. The two of us fell.

The good news is we both landed out of range of the statuette, which hit the ground, shattering into pieces. None of the jagged chunks of fallen idol hid us.

The bad news, well, bad news for him was that I landed right on top of him.

For a moment, I waited, trembling, doing my best to shelter him, only to realize the danger was over.

Afterwards, I became acutely of Christopher’s slender form, squirming beneath me.

Needless to say, it caused a bit of a reaction.

“Do you mind?” Christopher’s exquisite little face was flushed. It was only too obvious to him how happy I was to get close to him.

“Sorry.” I felt my own face heat up.

Unwilling to Be Yours

Welcome to Rainbow Snippets! Although I can’t be here for our weekly six sentences of LGBTQ+ fiction, Peter and Unwilling to Be Yours are. 🙂 They’re picking up right where they left off on Wednesday, with Peter ogling the statuary…


No, I’m not joking. The head of a hen or rooster would be perched on top of a human body. Sometimes they were covered with feathers.

One black metal statue was almost all rooster, except for his his black metal chest. He would have been terrifying, except for the comedic way he opened his bill, as if on the verge of singing.

I remember my first look at him caused me to knock another figurine off a shelf.

Unwilling to Be Yours

It’s QueerBlogWed, not that I’m around for it. Peter and Unwilling to Be Yours are, picking up right where they left off on Monday…


First, the chicken fell with a huge, clattering bang which dented its beak.

Ahem, let me explain.

The Navel did its best to live up to its title of being the center of all things bizarre. Not all of its items were strange, in and of themselves. You could find exquisitely painted decks of tarot cards, illustrated books, a variety of crystals, candles, and an assortment of tea.

None of these struck me as being bizarre. Perhaps they were here because of occult associations. Anything which might be considered magic was thrown in with the weird, which was a truly weird attitude. At least to me.

Other items lived up to the reputation of being bizarre. Some of the weirdest were what appeared to be religious icons.

I recognize none of them, although I did recognize the penitent and proud stature these ceramics, statues, pictures, and metal statues were frozen within. Recognition ended with the posture.

Many of these icons weren’t human, at least no completely. Some of them were of, well, I can only describe them as part chicken.

Unwilling to Be Yours

It’s Me Me Monday! Time to strut, celebrate, and promote your Me-ness! I may not be here to do it, but Peter and the Cauldron will continue to play. 🙂 Here they are with the next part of Unwilling to Be Yours.

I didn’t know how Damian did it, either.

Christopher hardly ever smiled. The best he’d manage was a half smile.

I’d managed to coax one out of him, with my first customer. I was still trying to figure out how to get a second one. It was especially hard, since accidents kept happening which made him scowl.

Unwilling to Be Yours

Welcome to Rainbow Snippets! Even though I’m not actually here for Rainbow Snippets. I still thought I’d offer up six sentences of LGBTQ+ fiction in honor of the day.

This is a tradition which is practiced every Saturday (or Sunday). The six sentences can be your own. They can be someone else’s. They just need to be LGBTQ+

To check out a wide variety of samples, go to https://www.facebook.com/groups/RainbowSnippets/?ref=group_header

Peter picks up right where he left off on Wednesday in my absence in Unwilling to Be Yours…


“Damian had this way of just getting Christopher to smile, no matter how scared or shy he felt.” She delivered this personal tidbit with a hearty casualness.

Christopher froze with a small, pink stone in his hand, but he didn’t turn his head or respond to her words. His lips trembled, while tension knotted his smooth, white forehead.

“I don’t know how he did it.” The delivery woman lowered her voice, shaking her head.

I nodded, keeping one eye fixed upon the boy, determined to ignore our attention.