Unnatural aa-1

by Michael Griffo

  Beaming, Vaughan gripped Michael by the shoulders and smiled. “You’ve made me so proud tonight, son.” Michael felt uneasy. The only reason he made him feel proud was because he didn’t tell him exactly what he thought about his ludicrous ideas about marriage. “You’d make me even happier if you invited Brania to that Archangel Festival they have at your school,” Vaughan said.

  “Um, maybe, I’ll, um, think about it,” Michael mumbled.

  “Good man.”

  Michael had no intention of thinking about Brania, marriage, or taking her to the festival. All he wanted to do was get back to school, to the place where he felt he belonged.

  The countryside was invisible in the darkness. Michael looked out the window but couldn’t see a thing. He grabbed one of his books that he left in the car, thinking he should use his time wisely to catch up on some homework and not ponder what to do about Ronan or his father or even Brania. But he wouldn’t get any work done. When he opened his geometry book, a piece of paper fell out, the paper Ronan had given him after class. Heart beating faster, he slowly opened up the folded parchment and saw that it was a drawing, a quick sketch that Ronan must have done while Father Fazio was rambling on about triangles. The tears fell before Michael even felt them gather, dropping off his cheeks and onto the paper below. He was looking at a drawing of himself. It wasn’t an exact likeness; it really wasn’t even that good, but it was drawn by Ronan’s hand. It was Michael’s face with his green eyes and his blond hair, contained within a picture frame. Underneath the drawing were the words The Picture of Michael Howard. Next to them he had written Forever beautiful, Forever mine.

  Ronan was Oscar Wilde and Michael, his very own creation.

  chapter 9

  Ronan had a bad feeling. He woke up knowing that something was wrong and that something terrible was about to happen. He wished he could ignore it; he wished he could convince himself that his mind was being manipulated by something other than instinct, but long ago he had learned to trust his intuition. Especially when it sensed danger.

  To make matters worse, he knew that at the center of his apprehension was Michael. Ronan shivered. It’s already started. I’ve already drawn him into a world where he is unsafe, into a world that he will never comprehend and that will disgust him. It’s a world that I belong to, and sometimes, not always, but sometimes, it even makes me wish I had never been created.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have glanced his way in the moonlight, Ronan thought. Maybe I should have just kept walking, alone, the way I was meant to live. No. No! That is not how my life was meant to be; none of us were meant to live like that. He reminded himself what his mother had always told him: “Our people may be different, Ronan, but we were meant to live, and the only way we know how to live is to love.”

  Ronan looked at his reflection in the mirror. Despite the anxiety and fear that were growing deep within him, he couldn’t help but feel blessed that he was to be able to see his true image. He was grateful his eyes were a beautiful shade of blue and not the deep, empty black that so many others possessed. Thankful that his face, strong and chiseled, was capable of his feeling the sun’s light anywhere in the world without fearing that his flesh would burn beyond repair. Yes, he was lucky, lucky that he wasn’t one of Them. But would that matter to Michael? Would he understand the difference or would he just think he was a monster?

  Part of him was convinced that Michael would accept him for who he was and want to spend the rest of eternity with him, but the other part, the one that housed his insecurities, wasn’t fully certain. And yet just the thought of Michael, just the idea that the two of them could become a couple, could grow close and inseparable, made Ronan smile. A lazy and effortless smile formed on his face. The more he thought about Michael, the more the smile grew, and here in his bedroom, alone, unworried that anyone would see him, he allowed the full truth of who he was to be revealed in the mirror.

  His skin became almost translucent, like the surface of a blue-clear lake, and his eyes widened just slightly and emitted a shine, a crisp beacon of light that could illuminate darkness. Then two of his upper teeth, the canines, on opposite sides of his mouth, started to grow in length and slowly descend, transforming into razor-sharp fangs until they curved over his bottom lip and pressed into the skin underneath. These fangs, so primitive, so like an animal’s, somehow made Ronan look even more human because his true self was no longer hidden, but exposed. His breathing deepened, his fangs pressed down even harder onto his lip but never cut the now bright red flesh, and Ronan had to grab on to his dresser to steady himself. He stared at his reflection and was both proud and ashamed. This beautiful thing was him.

  But what would Michael feel if Ronan ever found the courage to display his true likeness in front of him? Would he be proud to become his boyfriend? Or would he be ashamed? Ashamed to even know his type existed. Ronan overwhelmed by doubt, his fangs retracted and disappeared. His skin, his eyes, returned to their more common form. To look at him now, he seemed like any other sixteen-year-old boy, normal, human. But that was so far from the truth, and now riddled with uncertainty, Ronan had to turn away. He couldn’t bear to look at himself any longer. It was time anyway to move on, to see if his intuition was correct. It was time to find Michael and make sure he was safe.

  Nakano had a good feeling. Ronan and Michael were never going to be a couple, thanks to him. He hadn’t planned on it, he hadn’t planned on Michael seeing him alone with Ronan in the shadows, but sometimes accidents happen. And accidents aren’t always bad things. Michael saw them together and he instinctively understood that they were meant to be, that Nakano was the one whom Ronan was supposed to spend eternity with, not some asinine kid from Nebraska, of all places. No, Michael was an interruption, a tangent, and now Ronan and Nakano were back together where they belonged.

  Well, Nakano reminded himself, they were on their way back together. But it was only a matter of time before Ronan came to his senses and realized he could never have a relationship with Michael, a complete outsider, and that he and Nakano should continue where they left off. What was Ronan thinking? Nakano thought. If Nakano had difficulty accepting Ronan for who he was, for who his people were, how in the world could Michael? It was never going to happen and Ronan knew that. He was just mesmerized by this boy, by his blondness, his newness, that was all. It was only a matter of time before everything was once again the way it should be.

  Oh, how he wanted to rip his sunglasses off right here in Latin class. How he wanted to show everyone the depths of his power, his incredible strength, but he knew he couldn’t; he knew he had to conceal his truth. That’s all right, he thought, it won’t always be like this. Someday, someday very soon, he and Ronan would be together, like inseparable lovers, traveling to the remotest parts of the globe, and they’d be able to reveal their true selves to the world. What a wonderful day that would be. But what a wonderful day today was too. And Nakano just knew it was going to get even better.

  Ciaran had a sinking feeling. He felt his heart plummet the moment he caught Michael staring at Nakano. Sitting in the back of class, he knew in an instant that Michael had found out about Ronan and Nakano’s past. It was evident by Michael’s glare, his scowl. He tried to pretend that he was concentrating on Professor Volman’s lesson, but he hadn’t written a note, not a word, for the past fifteen minutes. All he did was stare at Nakano, and his expression didn’t waver and it wasn’t kind. It was that of one scorned, one absolutely and thoroughly ticked off. How Michael had found out that Nakano was Ronan’s ex-boyfriend, Ciaran didn’t know, but he knew just by looking at him that he had acquired that information and he was not at all pleased by the knowledge. And Ciaran wasn’t pleased by the knowledge that he would try to set things right.

  “He knows about you and Nakano,” Ciaran said. The moment Ciaran saw Ronan between classes, he told him. He knew he would eventually tell him. Why act as if he were going to keep this information to himself? Why not just get it out in the open as
quickly as possible and spare himself hours, it not days, of anguish contemplating exactly when and precisely how to convey the news to Ronan, when in the end the result was going to be the same. If anything, Ciaran was practical.

  Slowly, disbelief crept into Ronan’s face. “Why did you tell him?”

  And this is how I’m repaid. “I didn’t say I told him,” Ciaran said, hurt, but unfortunately not surprised by Ronan’s immediate reaction. “You really think I’d do such a thing?”

  Disbelief was replaced by guilt. “No. I’m sorry,” Ronan said quietly. “How? Are you sure?”

  “I don’t know how he found out, but he definitely knows,” Ciaran replied. “If Michael had a wooden stake, Nakano would be ashes by now.”

  What did he just say? “You think this is funny?”

  “I think this is a mess, a mess that you created, and a mess that’s going to bring us all down.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Ciaran looked at Ronan; he couldn’t believe that someone like him could sometimes be so innocent. “Do you really think that Michael is going to want to become a part of your life when he finds out exactly what you are? Do you think that he’s going to remain quiet like I have?”

  Ronan looked at Ciaran; he couldn’t believe that someone like him could sometimes be so resentful. “I think that this really doesn’t concern you, so you shouldn’t bloody worry about it.”

  “Well, I do worry. As much as I’m sure you’d like to forget, I am your brother. I may not be treated like it, but I am a part of this family,” Ciaran said, fighting to keep his voice low among the mid-class traffic. “So you can all push me aside, ignore me, and it won’t change a thing. I know everything and I haven’t said a word. I doubt you’ll be able to say the same thing about Michael when he finds out.”

  Ciaran turned to run, but Ronan grabbed him by the arm. God, his hands are so strong. “You’re wrong,” Ronan said. “Michael’s different; there’s something about him, there’s a reason he came here and into my life. I can just feel it.”

  He didn’t want to, but Ciaran shook his arm free of Ronan’s grasp. “And you’re willing to risk everything on a feeling?”

  It was useless to lie to Ciaran, so Ronan told the truth. “Yes.”

  It’s not what Ciaran wanted to hear, but it’s what he knew Ronan would say. He knew this was how it was going to play out the second he saw Michael glare at Nakano; this would be the domino effect, this was how things were going to end up, with him walking away by himself yet again, and Ronan running off in pursuit of some absurd romantic notion. Ciaran may have been logical and thought-out, but he didn’t know everything, because Ronan didn’t run off after Michael, he went to find Nakano.

  The area behind St. Martha’s was usually secluded. The only activity took place in the early morning when either a truck came to deliver food to the main building or another truck came to take garbage away from the three large Dumpsters made of steel and always sealed shut so none of the animals who lived and roamed on the campus would be attracted to the smell of decaying food. So except for the early morning hours, it was a desolate place. Except for now.

  Sitting on the ground with his back against the cold steel, Nakano could smell death inches away. He loved it. He loved taking a deep breath and letting the rottenness fill his body; he loved allowing something to penetrate him that humans found so incredibly repulsive. It gave him power. He was so much better than all of them, and one of these days they were going to understand just how superior he was. Until then he would be satisfied knowing that Ronan thought he was special. And he did. Just look at how he stared at him.

  Several feet away, directly across from Nakano, almost hidden by some wild bushes, Ronan stood. And yes, he was staring, but no, he was not happy. “What did you do?” Ronan asked.

  “I knew you’d find me here,” Nakano said. “It’s our special place.”

  Ronan didn’t move a muscle, but suddenly he was standing in front of Nakano, towering over him. His shoulders square, the thick vein in his neck twitching every other second, Ronan looked down at him. “I asked you a question.” Ronan gave Nakano exactly three seconds to reply and when he didn’t, he reached out his hand and then Nakano was standing. Actually, he was floating a few inches off the ground and Ronan was holding him by his shirt collar. Nakano’s feet dangled, unable to find a flat surface. He looked as helpless as a pup being carried by the scruff of the neck by its mother, but Ronan wasn’t holding Nakano gently, he wasn’t carrying his newborn to a safe place; he was clutching Nakano’s clothing, even some flesh, and pressing him against the rough surface of the Dumpster because he was angry, betrayed. He raised Nakano an inch higher and with his left hand he pressed into his shoulder, pushing most of his weight into him until Nakano winced. “Tell me,” Ronan growled, “what did you do?”

  It was hard for Nakano to form words in this position, but he managed to squeak one out. “Nothing.” Ronan pushed into him harder. Now his full weight was pressing against Nakano and in response the Dumpster creaked loudly as if awakening from a long, unbothered slumber, and rose a few inches from the ground. Nakano found more words, all of which sounded breathless and desperate when finally spoken. “I didn’t do anything.” Unfortunately, Ronan didn’t believe him.

  He let go of Nakano and for a split second Nakano thought it was over—this was just one of those rough games Ronan liked to play—but he was wrong. Ronan was repositioning himself. Before Nakano could slide even an inch down the side of the Dumpster, and before the Dumpster could fall even the slightest bit back down to earth, Ronan grabbed Nakano by the throat with his right hand and with his left pulled Nakano’s wrist down toward his thigh and twisted. Again he pressed his weight on top of him and repeated his question, this time his words containing more force. “What did you do?”

  The Dumpster groaned against the weight and the unfamiliar position, rising just a bit higher. Nakano was afraid they would tip over. He tried to struggle beneath Ronan, he tried to break free, but he knew from past experience that his attempts would be futile. Ronan was stronger. Usually that fact filled him with excitement and desire, but right here, pinned against the side of the Dumpster, diagonal, Nakano was filled with fear.

  “Get … off … me!” Nakano cried, gasping for air.

  Ronan hadn’t even broken into a sweat. “Not until you tell me what you said to Michael.”

  A red robin perched on the end of the Dumpster. Curious and small, it looked at Nakano and chirped. Once. Once more, and then as quickly as it arrived, it flew away. Yes, fly away, Nakano thought, and I’ll follow. One last attempt. Nakano pushed all his strength against Ronan, which was formidable, and the Dumpster slammed down onto the ground, small clouds of brown dust rising like little mushrooms, then evaporating into the air. “I didn’t say anything to him,” Nakano spat before turning to run. But he didn’t get far at all. Before he reached the edge of the Dumpster, Ronan had grabbed him from behind, Ronan’s right arm wedged underneath his chin, his left arm holding on to Nakano’s wrist and bending it backward so his hand was in the middle of his shoulder blades. Involuntarily, Nakano squealed out in pain. “I’ll break it, Kano,” Ronan whispered in his ear. “I’ll break it right off. You know I can.”

  Nakano writhed against Ronan’s chest, his legs flailing until Ronan twisted his arm just a bit more and the pain became too great. “I didn’t say anything. He saw us!”

  Ronan released his grip but didn’t let go. “Where?”

  His breathing rough, Nakano replied as succinctly as possible. “Outside St. Florian’s, under the tree.”

  Michael must have seen us talking, Ronan realized. He must have seen me reach out and embrace Nakano. But he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand that I was consoling him because I feel sorry for him. I pity Nakano because he can’t have the kind of life that I do and because, as harsh as it sounds, I will never love him the way he loves me. “You saw him?”

  Nakano let his h
ands rest on Ronan’s arms, which still held him under his chin. So strong and warm, how many afternoons did they spend in the secrecy of The Forest of No Return like this, lying on the cool earth, Ronan’s arm around Nakano? Those days could not be over forever; they just couldn’t be. “Yes,” he answered defiantly. “And he ran off because he knew what he saw.”

  Ronan spun Nakano around so they faced each other and then, unable to control his fury, he slammed him back into the Dumpster. Over the echo of steel, Ronan asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Too incensed to lie, Nakano spoke the truth, at least as he saw it. “Because it’s better this way,” Nakano said. “It’s better that it’s over before it even begins. Michael isn’t worthy of you. He wouldn’t even stay and fight for you once he thought you were with someone else, someone who is perfect for you!”

  The rage Ronan was feeling quite unexpectedly turned to laughter. “You? You’re perfect for me?” If anyone happened to witness Ronan just at this moment, they would never have imagined that mere seconds before, he had been capable of breaking Nakano into pieces. He was laughing hysterically, which was only making Nakano even more furious.

  “Do not laugh at me!”

  “Then don’t say stupid things! You know as well as I do that you’re not perfect for me. You’ve told me so yourself.”

  “I never said that,” Nakano protested.

  A little bit of the rage was returning and Ronan glowered. “How many times have you told me that I’m different? How many times have you reminded me that even though your race despises me, you personally understand that I cannot be judged for what I am?” Ronan hissed. “And now you tell me that you’re perfect for me? What am I supposed to do but laugh?”

  Nakano slammed his fist into the Dumpster, denting it slightly, but not even bruising his knuckle. He was angry because once again he was not only battling Ronan, he was battling himself. His heart was speaking a language his mind didn’t fully comprehend. “I know what I said, I know what our races believe, but I also know you and me and I know that we are perfect together.”