Unwilling to Be Yours

It’s #QueerBlogWed, a day to blog, post, and celebrate a rainbow of possibilities.

I’m doing it by sharing the next part of Unwilling to Be Yours, my second prelude to Stealing Myself From Shadows, my novel under revision.

Peter picks up where he left off on Monday, wondering where ‘Waiting for Rebirth’ disappeared to and why Christopher is so calm about it…

 

“Well, I hope it stays far away,” I muttered, trying not to shiver and failing.

The intelligent part of my brain told me to shut up. Such honesty wouldn’t impress Christopher. After all, I was insulting his True Self According to the Perfect Prick’s Artistic Genius.

I half expected another outburst. Christopher was being surprisingly calm about all this.

I was the one on the edge of terror. I really didn’t like it when magical objects did things which couldn’t be explained away by the skeptical.

“No need to worry.” Christopher’s smile had disappeared from his face. “The painting is a Door. The Door has closed. People in this world can no longer see it, except for the faintest shimmer in the air.”

“What shimmer?” I gazed in the direction of the gazebo.

“Can’t you see it?” Christopher tilted his head, fixing a luminous purple eye upon me. “A trace of white, lingering in the air, like smoke or mist?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I guess whatever you saw was meant for you alone.”

“I guess.” Christopher dropped his gaze to his feet. “He’s not coming back. Not if he’s closed the Door behind him.”

“We don’t know what happened.” I was actually defending the Perfect Prick. The things I did to reassure this boy! “The painting disappeared. This doesn’t necessarily mean Damian isn’t coming back.”

“If he was lost, or indecisive, the painting would have remained in this world.” He raised his head, not quite looking at me. “The painting is of me, but it contains a little piece of Damian. If any part of him wanted to remain here, the painting would have stayed.”

“Why wait for me to bring it to the gazebo, before disappearing?” I asked. “Why didn’t it just vanish in the Navel?”

“Because the Navel is Gabrielle’s Place of Power.” Christopher looked down at his feet. “She’d never let any harm come to Damian in the Navel, even if it was just a little piece of him in a painting.”

“She asked me to take it out here,” I said slowly. I was trying to understand what Christopher was saying. “Why do that, if she’s trying to protect ‘Waiting for Rebirth’?”

“Because Gabrielle believes, absolutely, in free will,” Christopher’s hands trembled, anger sharpening every word. “Damian chose to leave us. She has to respect his choice, even if it’s to take every bit of himself away, leaving us with nothing.”

There was a redness in Christopher’s eyes, staining his purple eyes with a bloody tint.

It was a hue I’d never seen in another human being’s eyes.

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