The Ties That Bind

by J. L. Langley, Jet Mykles, Jet Mykles

  Gingerly Val probed the back of his head. A lump the size of an egg poked out from his skull.

  What the hell?

  Careful not to move too suddenly, Val rolled his head to the side, slitted his eyes open and squinted at the clock. Seven-thirty. He had class in half an hour. And unless he got his ass moving, like right fucking now, he was going to be late.

  God, but his head was killing him.

  Slowly, Val shoved himself to a half-sitting position against the headboard. The jagged shards of glass inside his skull ground together. He moaned and slid back down.

  Okay, so he wasn't going to class, not the morning classes anyway.

  What the hell had happened to him last night?

  Think, man, think.

  He remembered packing his stuff for the library and ending up at Mac's office instead. He remembered letting himself in and looking for the attendance file. And he remembered Dylan showing up.

  Dylan. Eros. God.

  I'm fucking Eros. I told you.

  Mac's been dying to fuck you ever since you met. He's planning to get you to Greece then make his move.

  Do you want him to fall in love with you, Valentine? Is that what you want? Because I can do make that happen.

  Bit by bit the conversation came back to him. The stuff Dylan had said. The stuff he had said. And that kiss. That brutal, bruising, frustrated kiss.

  God.

  Maybe he'd hallucinated the whole thing. Maybe he'd fallen, banged his head and...

  Pulling his arm out from under the covers, Val held it up. The pale gray light from the window was just enough to make out the bruises in the shape of fingers marring his flesh. Hallucinations did not leave bruises. And there was no way those marks were made by anything but fingers.

  But how had he gotten home? He had no clue. And that scared him more than a little. More than a little? Hell. It scared the shit out of him.

  Someone knocked on his bedroom door.

  "Go away."

  The door opened just a crack. Eddie's head poked through the opening. “You okay, dude?"

  "No. I have a mother of a headache."

  The door opened the rest of the way and Eddie came in. “You look like shit, man. You didn't look that bad last night."

  "You saw me last night?” Ignoring the pain in his head, Val sat up.

  Eddie nodded. “Yeah, don't you remember? I opened the door when that guy brought you home. I guess he couldn't find your key."

  "Who brought me home?"

  Eddie shrugged. “Dark hair, about your height, I didn't get his name. He said you and him were out walking and you slipped on the ice, fell and hit your head. He said you were knocked out for a few seconds. You were conscious when you got here but you were pretty out of it. He seemed really worried about you."

  "Who put me to bed?"

  "He did. I thought maybe he'd stay but he said he couldn't. Made me promise to wake you up in case you had a concussion or something."

  "Did you?"

  "What do you think I'm doing now?” He paused. “So do you want me to take you to the hospital?"

  Val shook his head. It was a mistake. Slumping back against the pillows, he shut his eyes.

  "Do we have any aspirin?"

  "Yeah. You want some?” Without waiting for an answer, Eddie turned and fled.

  So Dylan had brought him home—brought him home, put him to bed, and taken care of him.

  God.

  Val spent the day in bed, swallowing aspirin every few hours and dozing on and off. His head hurt like fuck and his dreams were vivid and troubled.

  He was in Athens. How he knew it was Athens in the dream, he had no clue, but he did. The brilliant sun beat down on him as he walked through narrow, ancient streets. He could feel it burning his skin. He glanced down, expecting to see the red of sunburn but did not. All the same, he knew he should get to a shady place before he burned too badly. Yet something called to him, compelling him to keep going and not to stop, not even to rest or find the shade. Like a beacon, it drew him, closer and closer, whispering his name in a soft, coaxing murmur.

  His head ached. His feet hurt. His skin tingled with sunburn. Yet still he trudged on.

  Then suddenly, the dream shifted and he was lying in a lush meadow, cool breezes caressing his face, soft grasses pillowing his head and a lithe male form leaning over him.

  "I've waited so long for you,” his dream lover whispered. “Touch me. I need you to touch me."

  But when Val reached up and tried to wrap his arms around the man, his hands passed through the image as if through thin air. He tried again and the same thing happened.

  "Please,” his lover begged, “I need you. Touch me. I've been waiting so long."

  Again and again Val tried to embrace the man. Again and again the figure dissolved and reformed just above him. Again and again that pleading voice begged for his touch.

  Crying out in frustration, Val reared up and clutched at his lover's lithe body ... And the dream shattered around him.

  Jerking awake, Val sat straight up in bed, head and heart pounding, the sheets in a damp tangle around his legs.

  What the hell was that?

  He pushed sweaty hair out of his face, his gaze seeking out the clock.

  Shit. He had ten minutes to get his act together and get to class. Today of all days, he did not want to miss Gods and Monsters, not when it might be his only chance to see Dylan.

  Somehow he made it with two minutes to spare. Pulse racing and skin drenched with sweat, he collapsed into his usual seat. Dylan wasn't there.

  He'll show up. He has to.

  "Mind if I sit here?"

  Val glanced up. The girl with the short brown hair, the one who was always sparring with Mac, smiled at him. Without waiting for an answer, she plopped into the desk next to his, where Dylan should be sitting.

  He opened his mouth to tell her that the seat was taken. But before he could get the words out, Mac walked in and closed the door behind him.

  Walking over to the desk, he set down his briefcase, opened it and took out his books. Reaching in again, he withdrew a folder. The attendance folder.

  Val's pulse sped up.

  "Now that the add/drop period has officially ended,” Mac said, “I'd like to take a moment to go through the class list and find out who's still with us.” He flipped open the folder. He began reading off names.

  Val held his breath and waited.

  You won't find me on that list, Valentine.

  Please, Val prayed, though to whom he was praying he had no idea. Who was the patron saint of lost boyfriends anyway?

  "Sierra. Max. Jackie. Leslie. And Val.” Mac looked up and smiled. “All right. That's everyone. We've got a full house so let's get started, shall we?"

  * * * *

  After class, Val went straight to the library. He told himself it was simply a matter of needing the quiet to work on his thesis; that he wasn't looking for Dylan. Except he'd never been very good at deluding himself.

  Rather than his usual study cube, he settled at one of the large tables on the first floor, a place from which he could see everyone who came through the entrance. He'd been there only a few minutes when a shadow fell across his laptop screen.

  He looked up and found the girl from class, the one with the short brown hair watching him.

  "Mind if I sit here?” Again without waiting for an answer, she pulled out a chair and joined him. “We're in Gods and Monsters together. I'm Leslie."

  "I know. I recognized you.” Was she stalking him, or what?

  He took out the notes for his thesis. Maybe if he looked busy she wouldn't try to talk to him.

  She leaned over and looked at his laptop screen. “Is that your senior thesis?"

  "Yeah, the start of it anyway. It's nowhere near a thesis yet, just some notes."

  "I'm writing a paper for one of my other classes on Eros and Thanatos.” Hopeful brown eyes met his. “Maybe we could talk sometime? I'm majoring in ph
ilosophy and classics."

  She looked like a hopeful puppy. All she needed was a wagging tail to make the image complete.

  Before he could think of an excuse to blow her off, she went on. “I'm writing about the duality of Eros and Thanatos in art and classical literature. And I'm having trouble with my classical references. I wouldn't take up a lot of your time."

  "Is Mac your advisor?"

  She nodded.

  "He could probably help you more than I could."

  Her smile, firmly in place until now, evaporated. “He doesn't really have the time. I've made two appointments with him and he had to cancel both. I don't think he likes me."

  "He's pretty busy, being head of the department and all."

  "I know but..."

  Val took pity on her. “I guess I could spare a couple minutes."

  Her smile reappeared. She really did have a nice smile. “That would be great.” Reaching into her book bag she produced a sheaf of papers and slid them in front of him. “It's a little messy but I think it's readable."

  It was more than a little messy and her handwriting was nearly indecipherable. Val sighed inwardly and began to read.

  Myths are present in everything we do. Eros is the creative, warm energy within ourselves, like Faust's cultural creativity in the second part of Goethe's masterpiece.

  Something clutched tight in Val's chest, like a fist squeezing his heart.

  Eros is the creative, warm energy within ourselves.

  He reread that single line several times and thought of Dylan.

  "Is something wrong?” Fingers brushed the back of his hand.

  Val opened his mouth to say of course there was nothing wrong, but no words came out, so he just shook his head. He could see she didn't believe him.

  "The paper is about the duality inherent in our experience of Eros in art and mythology.” She paused, but when he said nothing she continued. “It's like how you can't experience real despair unless you've experienced real love. And how, when you do experience despair, it can only go as deep as the love that came before it.” She paused, looking at him. “You don't believe that though, do you?"

  Before he met Dylan, Val would have said no, he didn't believe that. Now he wasn't so sure.

  "I don't know."

  "Eros is passion. You believe in passion, don't you?” Her cheeks flushed. “I mean..."

  "I know what you mean. Yeah, I believe in passion."

  "So you can't possibly think that being in love is all bad. That it leads you to ultimate destruction. Sometimes, sure, but not always.” She clicked her pen. “See, it's a duality. Like if you believe in God then you have to believe in Satan. If you believe in love you have to believe in hate. If you believe in passion..."

  "I get you."

  "Do you?"

  "Yeah, I do."

  And he did.

  They sat together for a long time, talking in hushed tones about Eros. Val thought he could almost hear Dylan laughing and saying, “See, she believes me. Why couldn't you?"

  And he knew what he had to do.

  * * * *

  "I don't understand, Val.” Mac looked up from the papers in his hand and met Val's gaze. “You want to change your thesis topic now? When we're nearly halfway through the semester?"

  They were seated in Mac's office. But this time the light that filtered in through the window was a pale, ghostly gray; the clouds, just visible over the tops of the buildings, heavily pregnant with snow.

  Val sighed inwardly. They weren't nearly halfway through the semester. It wasn't even mid-February yet.

  "But what did you think of the new proposal?"

  Mac shrugged. “It's fine, I suppose. Technically correct, as far as that goes. I just wonder why the sudden change."

  "I want to explore the positive portrayals of Eros in classical literature.” Val fidgeted with the notebook in his lap, running his fingers up and down the spine.

  "Now you're starting to sound like Leslie from the Gods and Monsters class. You're not turning into a romantic on me, are you? Should I be referring you to Dr. Passow for your thesis? The two of you can discuss Sappho's poetry over tea and cookies.” Mac chuckled but the smile didn't reach his eyes.

  Val felt the sting of the rebuke.

  "I'm just saying there's more to Eros than disaster, death and madness. I want to explore that duality, to look at how the depth of the passion, the Eros, that we experience is directly proportional to the despair we feel when that passion disappears."

  "And how does this relate to classical mythology?"

  Mac grilled him for over an hour, picking apart his new thesis proposal, questioning every point, calling him on every assertion. By the time Mac looked at the clock and made his usual statement about their time being up, Val felt like he'd been through a war.

  Just as Val was getting to his feet, Mac spoke. “I think you're making a mistake, Val."

  "What do you mean?” Val let his backpack slip from his shoulders. He rested it on the seat of the chair he'd just vacated while he waited for Mac to make his point.

  "Passion is a fleeting thing. Love even more so. No one knew that better than the Greeks. By switching your thesis topic, you're setting yourself a difficult task. I think when you review the classical cannon, you'll see that I'm right."

  "I respectfully disagree."

  "Have it your way, then."

  Val picked up his backpack and shrugged the straps over his shoulders. “There's one more thing. It's about the trip to Greece."

  * * * *

  He should be working on his new thesis, or catching up on his reading, or sleeping off this headache, not dressing himself like a slut and going out on what would probably amount to a fool's errand.

  In his room, Val opened the dresser drawer, took out the box and lifted the lid. His cock stirred and began to fill even before he touched the corset. The leather should have been cool under his fingers. Instead it was warm and supple, almost alive. He lifted it out of the box and raised it to his face. Closing his eyes, he inhaled the rich scent of leather as he stroked it along his cheek.

  Yanking off his sweatshirt, he let it fall to the floor in an inside-out tangle. His jeans went next and were joined by socks and briefs. When he was naked, he slipped the corset around his waist. Slowly he laced it up and, taking a breath, pulled it snug.

  His cock jerked, a drop of pre-come welling from the slit and slicking the head.

  Val closed his eyes and pictured Dylan/Eros. This was probably a stupid waste of time. Dylan was gone. He had no idea how he knew, but he did. And he couldn't accept it, refused to accept it.

  Dressing quickly, Val grabbed his notebook from the desk and closed the door to his room. He pulled on his jacket as he descended the stairs. Eddie was in the living room, a book open on his lap, the TV on with the sound turned down low. He looked up.

  "You going to the library?"

  "Eventually.” Val scooped his keys off the top of the TV and headed for the door.

  "Maybe I'll see you there later."

  "Yeah. Maybe.” Opening the door, Val stepped outside.

  The night was still, like Mother Nature herself was holding her breath, waiting for something. Val inhaled, the icy air stinging his nostrils. He pulled his collar up around his face and turned toward campus. He'd gone only a block when the first fat snowflakes appeared in the glow of the streetlights. Ducking his head, Val quickened his pace.

  The windows of the classroom building glowed with a warm and welcoming light. Val opened the door and sighed with relief when the warm air embraced him. He passed one open door after another as he hurried down the first floor hallway, the drone of lectures and the quiet hum of class discussions hardly registering, he was so focused on his goal.

  Up the two short flights of steps, his sneakers squeaked on the worn tiles as he made his way along the second floor hall. He reached room 210 and paused. The door was closed, the room dark. Glancing quickly around, he opened the door, slippe
d inside and closed it behind him. Enough light filtered through the window that he didn't need to turn on the overhead fluorescents.

  He walked to his usual desk, sat down and opened his notebook. He flipped through until he reached the right page, the page with the cartoon of the stickman. The cartoon he'd drawn the day he met Dylan.

  Val stared at the empty desk beside him, like maybe if he looked hard enough he could conjure the man from thin air. Given everything else that had happened recently, was that really such a crazy thought?

  He sat for a while in the dimness and quiet, recalling the instant flash of attraction between them and the silent flirtation that followed. He wished he still had Dylan's note.

  He wished he still had Dylan.

  Time passed. Maybe minutes. Maybe as long as a half an hour, but nothing happened. At last Val got to his feet, picked up his notebook and left the empty classroom.

  Outside the snow was falling faster. Large wet flakes blew against his face, melted almost immediately and ran like icy tears down his cheeks. He wiped them away with the back of his hand and turned down the path toward the equipment sheds.

  The area was dark and quiet when he reached the row of little cinderblock buildings. Which one did he want? He didn't know.

  Val opened the first door and peered into the darkness. If only he'd thought to bring a flashlight. Then he remembered the light on his key ring. Through sheer persistence and with the help of that tiny beam, he found the right shed and slipped inside.

  The boxes were still there, stacked on the pallet just the way they'd been that night. Val stepped behind the stack, leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. Even through his jacket and sweatshirt the chill reached him. He shivered.

  He remembered the way Dylan had shoved him against this very wall and kissed him, the feel of those long-fingered hands cupping his face and Dylan's words. Gonna fuck you right here, my pretty Valentine.

  "Where are you?” Val whispered into the darkness.

  There was no answer.

  After the frigid solitude of the equipment shed, the library was warm and busy. Val went up to the stacks and found the shelf where he'd been searching the night Dylan had shown up. He read the spines of the books just as he'd done then. Except tonight the Butler translation was right where it should be on the shelf. Uncertain why he was doing it, Val took the volume down and left the stacks. But when he reached the study cube where Dylan had given him the blowjob, he found it occupied-by the girl with the short brown hair. What was her name? Leslie.