[Featured in FreetheLGBT: Diverse Literature reading list and Humor: Young. Dumb. Full of Fun list]
Colin Mitchell, a photographer at a well-known store, Snapshot, is openly gay--mostly. His ideal experiences are sexcapades that are always subtle, n...
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All through the night, Colin was haunted by a thought he couldn't shrug off-- the thought of an impending disaster. He couldn't close his eyes without seeing flashes of what had happened with Marcus, with Peter. A dark cloud of doubt and uncertainty that something was going to lead this trainwreck of a day farther into a burning pit.
He was frightened by all the happenings. From the time he saw those photos on Marcus' phone screen to the horrific kiss that made him want to vomit. The moment Peter saw the act and fled, to him losing control and beating Marcus up in the lobby. When he was rejected after he stupidly said nothing to defend what happened, to leaving the hotel with one less person.
He had gone himself; he had left unwhole. Incomplete.
After all that, Colin didn't know why he still had hope that he'd arrive home to meet Peter already in the apartment. The thought of Peter sticking around was something out of some sick tale that reminded him of Joker and Harley Quinn's dynamic. Yet, he proved that he was deep in that same situation he loathed by contacting Peter in any way he could.
Like a lost puppy, Colin kept probing even after he had been kicked away. He left calls and messages. He left more when he received no answer. Typing and erasing, regretting, typing again and hitting the Send button which filled him with anxiety as he waited for a reply that never came.
But for some reason, he still had hope that Peter would react to those texts. Even if he didn't text back, he would at least read them.
Those hopes were stomped upon when he woke up to see that he was left on Delivered. He sat on his bed, eyes burning from how long and hard he stared at his phone as if waiting for it to give him an answer if Peter wouldn't. It was useless.
He tossed his phone on his bed as he stood, stretching arms that felt sore. Groggily, Colin dragged himself into the bathroom and proceeded to take a shower. The sting that shot up his hand reminded him of the cuts he acquired from the swings he took at Marcus, and he felt a new sense of anger fill him.
But getting angry wasn't going to do him any good, he realized. The only thing he could do now was to wait and see how things panned out. In the meantime, Colin would continue to psych himself to spill out every single detail to Peter the moment he set eyes on him.
As he washed himself, he played out what he'd say in his head. Every scrub came with a new point he had to make clear, and with rinsing, he thought of how he would let all the information he held out, no matter the consequences that would come with dispensing.
Over the spray of the water, Colin heard a sound. He stood still and listened, waiting for it to come again. It did.
