Disclaimer: I own nothing but the thoughts in my head and the paper I write them on.
Let me play with your toys, I'll even dry clean them before I return them. Can't say fairer than that now can you?

Author's Notes: This is labelled a death story. Don't let that put you off. It's darker than your average bear, but not all that dark. I promise. It's really more of a rant at God or the Powers That Be for threatening to take my best friend away. But thats not the point.

Story Notes: This is what happens when you give me a pen and paper at a time when I'm emtoionally unstable. It's not high quality and it's best read if *you're* emotionally unstable.
By the way MERRY CHRISTMAS.

For reasons that don't need exploring at this juncture, the world is coming to an end.

I'm watching the crowd, from my vantage point. Those unfortunate few, who swarm like wasps in the city below; angry ... confused. Everything is confusion now. Reality and order overturned by one simple thought. A singular knowledge. Four all-changing words.

The end is coming.

It sounds so dramatic doesn't it? Like the start of a bad movie where the lack of a plot is somehow outweighed by the violent deaths of thousands of `actors' in their last bid for recognition, no matter how many limbs they must sacrifice within the two hour slot. .
This reality somehow feels wrong. For a reality, it's way too unreal. I'm not even scared for God's sake. I should be scared, shouldn't I?

Everybody out there seems insane, but within my apartment there's a deadly calm. That should really comfort me but it doesn't. So my logic is fucked. I guess `God' can have a bitch about that. Should be meeting him in a few hours anyway.

Warm hands close around my middle, and I lean back into him. Sated and contented, I've been sitting at my window, a sheet wrapped around me, just looking out for a while now. He must be worried. He doesn't feel worried though. His hands are steady and sure and strong, just like always. His voice is deep and warm and reassuring, just like always. "Ray."

I don't answer him right away. Maybe I shouldn't waste time now, but the words don't come like they should.

"You think we'll go to heaven?"

I didn't mean to say it. I didn't even know I was thinking it until it was out of my mouth. He looks at me with such unbearable sadness that I have to turn away and face out of the window again.

"I thought I'd already found it." He whispers into my neck. I can feel an odd sensation of wet warmth as a tear slips out from beneath his lashes. I didn't mean to make him cry.

"Shhh," I raise an awkward hand up to his cheek from behind, and he turns into my touch. "It's ok you know. Nothing can come between us. Not even this." I gesture out the window like he's supposed to know what the motion means. The miraculous thing is that he does know.

He's quiet for a while, and when he finally speaks his voice is steadier, if tainted with a wistful note. "It's so easy to think you have forever, isn't it? So easy to take time for granted, when you think you have enough to spare."

I nod, my hair brushing his neck. "I know." And I do. With unspoken words, he's mourning all the years we spent apart, the months we spent together but not ... together. And the glorious moments we could have had. Extra memories we could savor in our last few hours.

"I never took you for granted." He says softly. "I gave thanks every day for simply being allowed to know you. To breathe your air." My heart bleeds for him. I know the loneliness he's been through. He's so scared, I can feel it, of losing this. This is what we've both craved, and now it's almost over. No re-takes. I start to understand why everyone's so angry. We're good people. All I wanted was a little longer. Just a little more time. There's so much I don't know about him, and us, and there are so many things I wanted to work out. Why should I be denied the chance?

"I love you." I tell him, clutching at his hands as though holding tight will keep us this way forever. "I adore you, I'm obsessed with you, and I'm enchanted by you. No matter how or when this ends, we've had that. I've felt such incredible things from you, and that's more than I could have asked for. So if this is the end ..." My voice stops working as tears prick behind my eyeballs, begging release. I won't cry. I have too much to celebrate.

Silent once more, we look out again, watching the tears and exchanges of the people beneath us. I feel ... exalted, to be allowed to spend my final time here with this being of light. This beautiful creature I'd arrogantly come to label as `my own'. I guess the universe is taking him back now. That's strangely okay. I had him for a little while, and I've been blessed.

"Come on." I tangle his fingers with mine and pull him over to my bed. He looks so debauched from our activities a few hours ago, and he radiates warmth from his melancholy smile, bringing real meaning to the term `afterglow'. He looks so adorably lost and small and trusting. I want to just take him inside myself and never let him go. But I can't, he - like all good things - will be taken away. I have to just enjoy his warmth before it's too late.

I kiss him, slowly, and he responds with equal languor. Like he'll be content to do nothing else for the rest of his life. I laugh inwardly at that thought. The rest of what? His touches are almost lazy, as though his need for control over his life demands that he not let the world's imminent end hurry him. Stubborn, but perfect. I won't be rushed either. In all my time working in narcotics, I never found anything nearly as potent as his unhurried attention. Guaranteed to get you high, and leave you there for hours on end. Only I'm brought back to earth with a thud.

There's a gentle sort of roar coming from the street outside. Like cheering ... cheering? He's noticed it too, and together we return to the window. My curiosity almost outweighs my annoyance at being disturbed. The crowds are hugging, embracing, kissing, shaking hands. Relief is painted like neon on every expression, and joy overwhelms all. I look at Ben and he looks at me. A skinny Polack and a demi-god looking at each other in vague wonder and confusion. And hope. My God, I never dreamed I'd see hope in his eyes again. It's the singularly most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

My eyes break his gaze, and travel out over the horizon. Even without my glasses I see that TV screens, monitors, broadcast points, all exclaim the same thing. We're safe. Reports are coming out, and being confirmed, then confirmed again because everyone's too scared to believe. We're safe.

The words resound in my head, and his too, apparently, because he murmurs them in my ear. He sounds ... like everything I feel.

"We're safe. Ray .... It's not the end. Ray we're safe." He whispers, his breath curling round my neck making me shiver. I turn and no sooner do my eyes meet his again, than we're hugging. Hard and tight and desperate, and clinging. He's mine, for a little longer at least.

His smile is blinding before he kisses me hard, joy building in him as it is in me, and every other. His tongue slicks against mine, teasing and tasting and revelling in simple gratitude for life. The next minutes will be beautiful, I know it. As I'm half pushed by him, and half pulling him, down onto the bed, I feel my own idiot grin showing up. He's mine, he's mine, he's mine. My mantra becomes louder with each rendition and my smile grows. Everything is growing ... touches growing more urgent, and moans growing louder. As though everything in the world is building in this one giant crescendo. Everything but him blurs incoherently. I don't need the world anyway. This is enough, right here in this moment. This is the closest to eternity I'll ever have, and I know that now. It doesn't matter. I've found the purest of all ecstasy, and I've held it in my hand. It's mine. We come, like an explosion, drowning out anything else that might have intruded in a cacophony of noise and sensation. We're sated again, rejoicing in each other, and the best experience we've had to date. The sweet relief of having forever restored to us .... it made these moments the best of our lives. We rest easily, absorbed in each other. Tears of liberation slip over his face, and undoubtedly over mine too. We've been set free.

I hope it was with a clear conscience that the broadcasts of salvation were sent out. Their lies were the greatest gift we could ever have asked for. An hour later, when the end came, we - my lover and me - were blissfully innocent, sleeping entwined with each other. We didn't feel it, and we didn't have a chance to regret it, we only knew peace and security. The world went out on one hell of a high.

And as for that question ... Do you think we'll go to heaven?

...Yes .... I think so too.

End Crescendo by LaAmelia: beatitribbitbiteme@hotmail.com

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