I
love it when it rains.
Actually,
what I love is the way the world feels after it rains.
It's almost like everything has been washed clean, like we've been given
a fresh start. Granted another chance at life, I guess. A chance to fix
what's wrong in our lives and make them right.
I'm
waxing philosophical at one in the morning.
Must
be the rain.
I
open the doors to the firehouse, breathing in the clean scent of rain.
Around me, the streets of Manhattan are fairly quiet.
The occasional taxi zips by, a few pedestrians wandering the darkness. The rain must have driven people in. It drives me out.
Making
sure the door is closed and locked behind me, I head off down the sidewalk.
On nights like this, I often walk the streets with no true destination in
mind. Tonight is different.
Tonight, I'm headed for the theater district.
It seems to have this spirit, this magic, that's always highlighted by
the rain. I love music—real
music, with passion and heat and meaning, not that dry opera Egon listens to.
All the feeling behind the music seems to linger around the theaters long
after the curtains close. I love to
get submersed in it, forgetting everything else—work, my life, even the
guys…for a while. But it never
fails; after a while, my mind returns, unfailingly, to my secret, my heart's
desire.
Egon.
I've
known him since college. We've been
the best of friends for that long. And
for all those years, I've harbored a love for him that I could never share.
Why? Call it repression,
call it avoidance, call it whatever you want.
It's fear, plain and simple. I know it.
I'm afraid that my little confession would destroy the best, most stable
thing in my life. I'm scared I'd
lose his friendship, lose him. And
truth be told, a life with Egon in it, as only a friend, will always be my
choice over a life without him.
I've
been so absorbed in my own thoughts that I barely notice when I reach the
Broadway district. Reverently, I
soak it all in. The clean wash of the streets, the glow of the streetlights
reflected in the humid sweep of water on the pavement.
Performers leaving late shows glide, laughing and talking, out of stage
doors. Ticket windows with crisp
promotional posters gleam, and I catch my reflection in one.
Grinning, I walk on, lost in thought.
So lost, in fact, I never noticed that someone is following me.
I
keep walking, turning corners at random, silently observing the atmosphere
around me. Finally, I come to a
stop on West 45th Street, in front of the Imperial Theater. I stand staring up at the marquee, shining like a beacon in
the night, awash in droplets of brilliant rainwater. A soft breeze whispers over me, and I feel the hair on the
back of my neck rise. Shaking off
the shiver that induces, I catch motion in my peripheral vision.
I turn around to look behind me, and I'm stunned at the sight.
He's
standing there, in his standard civilian attire: pink shirt, dress slacks, and
suspenders. No coat—it's
pleasantly warm out tonight. Even
from here, I see the sparkle of his deep blue eyes behind his red-rimmed
glasses. Moonlight dapples his skin
in patches of soft light and sharp shadow, sluicing over him, bathing his in its
glow. His pale, flaxen hair
shimmers as luminously as the moonlight, and it takes my breath away.
He
is so gorgeous it hurts.
I
stand there, staring and blinking, for what feels like an eternity.
He walks up to me, drops his hand on my shoulder.
"Peter,
you do realize it is nearly two o'clock in the morning?"
His tone is soft, slightly rebuking, and filled with concern.
He wants to know why I'm out here in the middle of the night instead of
at home, in bed. Suddenly, I can't
meet his eyes, terrified that he'll see there what he must never know.
Attempting
to break the mesmerizing enchantment his voice has woven, I turn and gaze back
up at the marquee. "Well, you
know me, Spengs. Can't stand being
predictable. I've got to keep you
guessing."
Egon's
deep bass rumbles near my ear, and I suppress the urge to tremble, barely.
"Keep me guessing? Peter,
I know you as well as you
know yourself."
His
words stop me cold. In the space of
a heartbeat, I realize that he is right. No
one on Earth knows me as well as Egon does.
He's gotten inside of me like no one else.
All the walls I built, the barriers I threw up for protection…Egon
broke them all down. All but one. The carefully erected fortress around my heart, shielding
my passionate love for him has yet to fall, and that is only due to my
all-encompassing fear.
I
circle slowly to meet his eyes again. The
look he gives me is blindingly gentle, compassionate and caring and full of
affection. When he smiles, I feel
the first brick of the fortress fall and shatter.
I
step closer, my gaze never leaving his.
"It feels magical out here, doesn't it, Egon?
Like anything can happen. Dreams
coming true, fairy tales springing to life, love conquering all…it's this
place, weaving a captivating spell over everything.
That's why I come out here at night, after it rains.
It makes me feel like life is full of possibility, just waiting for me.
It restores my faith in humanity, in the world."
I stop, becoming aware that all the while I've been speaking, Egon has
leaned closer and closer. He's so
close now, I can feel his breath across my lips.
Of their own accord, my eyes slip shut, and Egon touches his mouth to
mine.
The
kiss is soft, sweeping across my lips like the caress of a butterfly.
The contact is brief, but searing. When
he backs away, it hits me: I've
been branded by his kiss. I belong
to Egon, heart and soul. But then,
I always have. I open my eyes to
see him smiling at me, his own eyes twinkling in the moonlight.
"Does love conquer all, Peter?"
That
simple question breaks down the remainder of my heart's barrier, allowing me to
ponder the potential of this situation. I
tear my eyes away from his and struggle to catch my breath.
“I
think it can. I told you, life is
full of possibilities." He
reaches out and draws me into his arms, holding me close against him.
I feel his heart thudding strongly, quickly, against his chest, and it
reassures me that he seems nervous too.
I
tilt my head up and capture his eyes again.
"Is this all part of the
spell, too, or is this real?"
In
answer, Egon seals his lips to mine again, robbing me of breath.
This kiss is deeper and much more passionate than the first, and I can
only cling to him as he explores my mouth with his tongue. In that one kiss, he
fulfills a fantasy years in the making and answers any doubts I have concerning
his feelings for me.
When
the need for oxygen—damn lungs—becomes too much, we break apart and stand
there, loathe to look away or blink, afraid that this lovely moment will be
broken if we do. Finally, Egon
moves, but only to take my hands in his and hold them tightly. Emotions charging through me, I speak without thinking.
"I
love you, Egon. I always have.
From the moment we met, I think I fell for you, but I was always scared
to say anything, scared you'd run away. Scared
I'd drive you away. Everyone I've
ever cared about has left me, except for you, Ray and Winston.
I keep waiting for you to walk away.
It's always seemed inevitable to me.
I believed, deep down, that to tell you how I felt would push you away,
and I couldn't live with that. My
life is better with you in it, no matter the capacity."
I stop, winded, and look into Egon's eyes. I've always been good at
reading him, and this time was no exception.
In
the depths of his remarkable blue eyes, I saw amazement, hope, love and desire,
burning so brightly it almost hurt to see.
In Egon's eyes, I found the confirmation of love I'd been seeking.
I lifted one hand to rest against his cheek, and his eyes slide closed. His voice, hoarse with emotion, rattled in my ear.
"Peter,
do you not know how much I love you? How
much I have always loved you…I never believed in love at first sight until I
met you. I, too, was afraid to
declare my feelings. I feared
losing your friendship, a friendship I'd come to cherish.
You seemed to be the quintessential ladies' man, and I was certain you
could never return my affections. I
was satisfied to be your friend, and would never have pushed the subject.
But, as you say, this area has a certain charm about it, and it inspired
me." He reopens his eyes, and
the love I see there shines radiantly. My heart soars, full of love for this man.
I reach out and cup his face in mine, pulling him near for another kiss,
a caress of lips. We pull apart,
and I take Egon's hand in mine, tugging him along with me until we are walking
side by side, retracing our steps homeward.
I
cast a final glance at the rain-swept world around me, and I smile.
Mother Nature has wiped clean my slate, giving me the opportunity of a
lifetime.
I'm
going to take full advantage of it.
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