Divine Intervention

by Francis Gideon

  “You’re looking sweet tonight.”

  “You’re just saying that because I’m holding the gayest drink ever made,” Evan said, taking a sip.

  The guy nodded. “I have a thing for sweet ones.”

  “Do you?” Evan said.

  “Yeah. How about I take you to see?”

  Though his chest hurt and Liam’s words rung in his ears, Evan set his drink down and took the man’s hands. When the stranger began to steer them towards the bathroom, Evan pressed his lips on the man’s. Evan kissed him furiously, the sickly sweet syrup from his drink on both of their lips.

  “Not here,” Evan whispered, biting his ear lobe. “Alley?”

  With another nod, the two of them were off. The man held the door for Evan as they stepped outside. Then, he stood in the alleyway and waited. Evan took a step forward, and the man’s large hand touched a spot under his cheek.

  “What are you waiting for, sweetheart?” he asked before he pushed their lips together. Evan moved his fingers onto the man’s waist and undid his pants in a fluid motion. Evan slowly moved to his knees, careful of the salt to melt the ice and the small puddles of melting snow around them in the February landscape.

  The man was big, but not ridiculous. Evan was able to take him far into his throat, eliciting the types of moans he had loved to hear from the men he did this too. Evan kept one hand tight on the base of the man’s cock, twisting it slightly as his head bobbed up and down. The big hands tangled into his hair, pulling on it when he was particularly excited. He mumbled a lot, Evan noted. A talker. He called Evan names, some of them just hot air and nothing but. Evan responded to each of his requests with poise and grace, taking him deeper and then licking the underside with his eyes wide open and looking up. But soon, Evan desired more than just the man inside his mouth. He took his hand and threaded it down over his cock and pushed him up against the wall.

  “There’s a condom in my back pocket,” Evan whispered. He combed his hands over the man’s thick neck and his bristly hair. He felt the bare cock against his own growing erection. The man thrust into him a few more times before he responded.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah,” Evan said. He turned around and placed his hands against the brick wall of the club. He allowed the man to frisk him, finding the condom and small packet of lube he kept in his back pocket, just in case. The man threaded his large forearm underneath Evan’s waist, clutching him through the fabric. Evan went to move his arms, but the man behind him pinned him again.

  “Like this,” he instructed, sliding their fingers together as he pinned both his arms above his head. The bricks dug into his skin, but as the guy grabbed his cock, he forgot about the slight pain.

  “Like this?” Evan asked, and then thrust his ass out and against the guy.

  “Yeah, yeah, good,” he said. He began to rip at Evan’s clothing frantically now. He undid the rest of his pants, pulling the fabric tight over his thighs as he exposed his ass. The night air was cold, so they didn’t get too undressed. As soon as the man’s torso was pressed up against him, Evan began to warm.

  His fingers felt inside first, and then he heard the distinct ripping of a wrapper open. He saw the colored papers fall to the ground and bit his lip as he waited for him. The man pushed himself inside and Evan allowed himself to forget. He pressed his hands hard into the brick wall and bit his lip. It felt good, of course. It always did like this, when Evan couldn’t see their faces. They could become anyone he wanted. And when the man finally moved his hands away from Evan’s wrists to his waist for leverage, Evan touched his own cock. Cold air hit them both, but arousal and the slight thrill of being caught outside allowed him to continue. He moaned until his voice was hoarse. He allowed himself to be touched and to be fucked, because it would be the only thing that kept him warm and got Evan through the night.

  In the morning after the club scene, it was tradition to go to Denny’s. Bart often stayed at Liam’s, while Liam went over to Sarah’s. Evan’s apartment was right above the Denny’s on the main street in town, so he often rolled out of bed, found another pair of pants, and met them both there in no time.

  “Ah, it’s now the thirteenth,” Liam said when Evan arrived. His eyes panned over to Bart, who still had slightly red eyes from awaking. “And you both look a little like hell.”

  “Good morning to you, too,” Bart said.

  Evan yawned as he took his seat. He studied the menu, his mouth still tasting of sleep and the stranger’s mouth from the back lot. When they all ordered their grand slam breakfasts, and Bart began to lament so much coffee and fat in the morning, Liam raised a hand.

  “So, young soldiers,” he began, folding his arms on the table and examining the two men. Bart sat beside him, his arms still propping up his hung-over expression, and Evan sat across in a booth all to himself. “How did our nights go last night?”

  “Fine.”

  “Okay,” Evan answered.

  Liam clucked his tongue. “Just as I suspected. These men have fallen victim to the dreaded disease of lust.”

  “Cut it out, okay, Liam?” Bart asked. “Just because I have a hangover doesn’t mean I regret last night.”

  “Same here,” Evan asked. As Liam’s eyes lingered on him, he had to fight to keep his stoic and serious face.

  “You two are always waiting for something,” Liam commented after a moment.

  “Aren’t we all? Isn’t that the meaning of life? Ennui!” Evan joked, his hands twisting in the air. Liam shook his head and narrowed his eyes.

  “Don’t get all philosophical on me, Evan. A few night courses won’t change reality. I don’t mean it in the way that all of life is like waiting in a line. You two are waiting for something specific.”

  “Like what?”

  “A soul mate, obviously.” Liam took a long drink of his coffee before looking back at them, stretching out the silence and tension. “But the thing that both of you are missing is that those things—soul mates—never existed.”

  “I know,” Evan agreed too quickly. “It was just something cooked up by Hallmark to get people to buy cards.”

  “Or to believe in God,” Bart mentioned. Evan nodded again.

  “Yeah, God and commerce. Those are the only real things.”

  Liam laughed. “You’re both so cynical.”

  “I thought you just called us romantic? Or at least, waiting for the romance to show up?”

  “That’s the funny part,” Liam said, leaning in. “All the cynical ones are that way because they think life should fit their ideals. Life should be like the way it is in the movies, so they get mad and blame politics.”

  Evan hated when Liam sounded right. He knew it was like a salesmen talking half the time, or a lawyer. You couldn’t quite figure out why, and you were sure you were being lied to, but you liked it so much that you didn’t quite care. This was what real seduction was, Evan had always thought. Falling in love with an idea and not caring what vessel or outside it contained. This was how he could consider himself bisexual, and yet, still mostly fell in love with men. Because the body never mattered, at least, not that much and he was sure, given the right person, he could always swing the other direction.

  “I thought you told us last night to allow ourselves to fall in love?” Evan asked, finding a hole in Liam’s speech. “I mean, that was your whole rant about us hooking up in washrooms or back alleys?”

  Bart nodded, suddenly awake after a few sips of his coffee.

  “Right,” Liam said, smile still evident on his face. “I told you guys to not be so concerned with yourselves. That was how you were going to find love. As soon as you let go of your idea of how the event should be, then you start to allow in the mistakes, the cracks, and slight imperfections. You start to think about someone else, and you stop returning what is perfect good and start to appreciate what is right in front of you.”

  Evan grew silent again, his lips thinning over his mouth. Again, Liam was so right he didn’t k
now how to talk back against him without resorting to nine-year-old boy retorts. When Evan moved his gaze to Bart, and found Bart already staring at him.

  Evan’s heart stopped for a second and he looked away. The medallion across his chest moved, knocking against his skin and warming instantly. When Evan looked back, Bart was staring at his coffee as he added more cream and sugar to the mix.

  “Whatever,” Evan said. He leaned back in his seat, putting his arms around the back of the booth and taking up all the space. I had fun last night.”

  “Oh yeah,” Liam challenged. “What was your guy’s name?”

  “Valentino,” Evan said, his voice shaky with his lie. Even Bart stifled a laugh and peered up at him again over furrowed brows. Whatever look Evan thought he had seen before was suddenly gone, no trace left remaining.

  “Names don’t matter,” Evan insisted. “That was how pure our love was, huh, Liam.”

  “Right, right,” Liam said with a smile. “You’re a real Romeo.”

  Liam flagged down a waitress and got their meal to go. He didn’t pressure either man with another interrogation. After another sip of his coffee, he smiled jovially as if nothing had ever occurred. He didn’t seem to notice the small frown on both of their faces.

  “Video games at my place. Sound good, guys?” Liam suggested.

  Bart nodded.

  “Sure. Whatever you say, Liam,” Evan allowed with a sigh. “Whatever you say.”

  Chapter 3

  Back in the apartment, the music channel grew far too repetitive and meaningless. Bart got up from the couch and pulled out the PlayStation and a few of the new games Liam had piled under his coffee table. As Bart worked to figure out what cables went where (a skill that had always eluded Evan), he glanced at everything from Fallout: New Vegas, Grand Theft Auto, and Heavy Rain. Most of the games still had on the stickers and price tags.

  “Why bother getting games if you don’t play them?” Evan asked as he tossed the unopened Fallout to Bart who placed it inside.

  “That’s the downside of full-time work,” Bart commented. “You have enough money to buy games, but never enough time to actually play them.”

  Bart handed a controller to Evan and set the game up for two-player mode. Evan reluctantly agreed, though it had been ages since he had settled in for a game and he wasn’t sure how to avoid dying within the first few minutes. Working part time might allow enough time to play, but the flipside of the problem beckoned: no money to buy games. As Bart began the sequence, Evan texted Liam that they were still here, still waiting.

  And we’re breaking into all your games. If you don’t come soon, we’ll start wiping your top scores on the others.

  When nothing came in response from Liam and Evan died several times in Fallout, he tossed the controller into his lap. He dialed Liam’s number and listed as the phone rang on and on.

  “What if he’s dead?” Evan asked on the second call with no answer.

  “Why would he be dead?

  “He’s not answering his phone. And death doesn’t exactly have reasons for taking people. Your time is your time.”

  “It’s not Liam’s time. Trust me on that. Just because he’s not answering his phone doesn’t mean he’s dead.”

  “You know what I mean. The neighborhood’s bad at night.”

  “Only if you’re stupid.”

  “Are you saying people ask for it?”

  Evan huffed and put the controls down. “What do you expect us to do? We can’t keep waiting for him like this? It’s driving me mad.”

  “I can tell,” Bart said with wide eyes. He shrugged. Before he could open his mouth and say anything else, the landline in Liam’s apartment rang. Evan and Bart both watched as the machine picked up and Liam’s voice began to record a message in his own machine. The two players on the screen died in New Vegas.

  “Hey, guys. I know I’m late. Double shift. Brutal. But I will be there. We can always catch a later club or just go to Denny’s. We seem to have a good time there. Help yourself to anything in the fridge.”

  When the message beeped off, Bart gave a quizzical glance towards Evan. “How exactly does a copyeditor get a double shift?”

  “Big book?” Evan suggested. “Maybe a new Fifty Shades came out.”

  Bart groaned, overdramatically.

  “You think it’s a voice from beyond the grave?” Evan asked after a few moments’ pause.

  Bart laughed and placed the controller on the coffee table. “No, but something must be wrong.”

  “Why?”

  “Because,” Bart said, getting to his feet. He walked a few paces until he reached the kitchen and began to go through cupboards. “He’s letting us eat his food. Something must be really wrong or he feels extremely bad. Either way, dig in.”

  Bart removed a bag of candy and a large bag of Doritos from the shelf, along with a bowl. He plopped down on the couch with the bag and began to distribute the goods, using the coffee table to hold the leftover half-full bags. With the bowl wedged between them on the couch, Evan and Bart returned to their game. During conversation between characters, sometimes the two of them would reach for chips at the same time, their fingertips brushing one another. The first time there indexes brushed, their eyes caught one another like they did in the diner. Evan swallowed and lost track of the game as it descended into a firefight with a moving target. The sound of bullets made Bart turn away first as Evan’s health meter in the game faded into nothingness, the red heart swelling with life now black on the screen.

  “Dammit,” Evan said. He didn’t bother to restart the game. He watched as Bart played instead, highly cognizant of the fact that Bart kept looking at him this time around. The two of them hadn’t touched the chips in the center since the brief contact.

  “I wonder what it is,” Evan stated quietly.

  “Liam?” Bart asked. “Probably a girl. He may have met someone at work and is trying to do something with his grief over Sarah.”

  “Yeah,” Evan agreed. “That sounds about right.”

  Satisfied with the response, Evan went back to reach into the chip bowl. After only a few handfuls, he and Bart collided again.

  “How about some dinner?” Bart said, pausing his game.

  “If Liam’s providing, then I’ll feast until my heart’s content,” Evan said with a smile.

  Bart nodded quickly. Wiping his hands on his jeans, he rose from the couch. He passed off the controller to Evan and warned not to let him die.

  “Here. You had an unfair opposition from before. Just don’t kill me and we’ll be good.”

  Evan smiled wryly, clicking the game on again. “Don’t worry, good sir. I shall protect your life with my own.”

  When Bart gave him a small glare, Evan softened his expression.

  “Don’t worry, you can trust me.”

  Bart swallowed. “I hope. Especially since it’s looking like it’s just us tonight.”

  As Bart left the small living room, Evan let out a low breath. He kept his focus on the center of the riffle’s gauge and tried to hit the bad guys in the chest, not the head, so he could steal their helmets for more points. After fifteen minutes rustling around in the kitchen for some food, Bart brought over some leftover Chinese food on one of the freshly cleaned plates from before.

  “Thanks,” Evan said as he paused.

  The two of them ate in silence, the repetitious pause music for the video game providing a light soundtrack in the background.

  “So tell me about this wonderful road trip,” Evan asked.

  “What?”

  “After escaping your parents, you went across country, yeah? You’re pretty much livin’ the American dream then. Did you have an old jalopy and a rucksack?”

  “No, a pickup truck and a backpack.”

  “Even better. With a pick-up, you could lie out and watch the stars.”

  “We did that a bit, yeah.” Bart shifted uncomfortably, eating a chunk of chicken from the pile of noodles.

>   “Is that when you decided to start growing you hair out?” Evan asked quickly. “You left to become a hippie?”

  “Actually,” he said with a slow sigh, “they teach you in most religious faiths that you have to go to the desert alone if you want to become a spiritual man.”

  “You left to become a spiritual man? I thought you left to have wild crazy gay sex?”

  Bart laughed, his blue eyes flashing with recognition and joy. “That came later. That was my revelation, I suppose, by the end of it.”

  “Really? Did God appear and say thou shalt lie with man?”

  “No, but if you read the Bible carefully,” Bart said with a wink, “you’ll notice it says Adam and Eve. I’m guessing at the same time, right? So we’re all bisexual.”

  Evan burst out laughing, though it wasn’t that funny. He placed his hand over his mouth in an attempt to catch some of the noodles that didn’t quite make it in. Evan’s chest constricted after the laugh and Bart’s eyes flashed again. That was when he really knew: he was falling for Bart, more than before. The feelings that he worked at suppressing were still at the surface, like a bruise. The need to laugh anything, no matter how small or trivial, always signaled to Evan a deeper emotion underneath the surface.

  What was the expression? Evan asked himself. The ones with the biggest smiles have the biggest sorrows? He wasn’t one for small catchphrases, but it seemed to work. Evan always laughed at things he knew were serious because it was an easy way to play off how he really felt. Bart was actually funny, too, and that made Evan’s complex a lot worse. Evan had always thought there was something about Bart, something beyond the mythic stories that Liam had told to him about the mystery man sleeping on his couch. He was a runaway, but that label didn’t fit. There was something underneath his skin. But it wasn’t something that he had worked at hiding, not a secret or even a repressed desire. It was something that no one had bothered to see yet.

  “Be serious with me,” Evan requested, his voice softer. “It will be a while before Liam shows. What really went on during your road trip?”

  “Well, I escaped with another Mormon kid who turned eighteen around the same time as I did. We packed up our things and left.”