"I spoke into his eyes."
Winter vanished in what seemed like a heartbeat and spring was warmly welcomed. They spent their days by the lake, enjoying each other's company, they didn't step foot in that burger place again.
It was shitty anyway.
The lake was no longer eerily dark or cold. It was a pleasant green that caught the sunlight perfectly. It was still empty though, but they didn’t seem to mind, they preferred it that way. Antony had a new found love for poetry and would often recite it to Norman under their favourite oak tree close by. His current favourite poet was Oscar Wilde, though Norman only knew Shakespeare and could hardly name a poem.
“Would you ever write your own?” Norman asked, interrupting 'Ballad of Reading Gaol'. He admittedly had no interest in it though he did like to listen to his voice.
He waited for a response looking up at the branches, his back on the grass. He heard Antony drop his book of poetry on his chest, he looked to his side to see he was crossing his arms. “Yes I suppose.” He exhaled, picking up his book again. “Would you ever write about me?” “Never.” “Why not.” Antony turned his head to the side to meet his eyes at the question. “It would never be good enough.”
“Good one Shakespeare.” Antony didn’t say anything but he turned his body over to look at him. Neither of them spoke for a while. Just looking. Looking and longing. Antony lifted his hand to Norman's face cupping his cheek, slowly lifting the palm of his hand so just his fingertips were touching him. He dragged his fingers over Norman's face watching his own hand movements. His thumb brushed over his lip and Norman realised he had stopped breathing. He wanted to lean in closer, he wanted his hands touching his face forever. He wanted Antony.
He flinched back as Antony shoved his finger half up Norman's nose snorting with laughter. “That wasn’t funny asshole.” Anotny didn’t respond, still audibly laughing at him. Soon he found himself laughing too, lying on his back again. As their laughter slowly died out, so did that feeling of happiness, the guilt seeping back into his body.
They were both silent.
“Antony” It was almost a whisper. A whisper of what they could be. “Yeah?” His response was almost as hushed as Norman’s. God he always knew when something was wrong. Why did something always have to be wrong? “Don’t say it Norman. Let's just live.”
Norman chewed on his lower lip, feeling a sudden rage overcome him. “Don’t pretend that I’m the one who's going to ruin..whatever this is Ant.” Antony tilted his head, all traces of content vanished. “I..” Norman tried to speak but his anger had faded into sorrow . “I saw the letter Ant. I know you're leaving.”
Antony frowned, leaning back on his elbows and staring into the trees above. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything.” Tucking his knees into his chest, Norman exhaled audibly. “Antony, you know you never need to apologise for trying to escape this shitty town, I don’t blame you.” A small smile played on his lips. “I always knew this would happen, fucking smart ass.”
Antony huffed a laugh “Oxford huh?”
“Yeah I suppose. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner I didn’t want it to ruin ou-”
“So you can’t blame me either.” That caught his attention. Antonys mouth snapped shut as he tried to catch Norman's eye but it was no use.
“What do you mean Norman, what are yo-”
“The mines-”
“No.” Antony had sat up now, staring straight through his soul with a look that could only be described as pure fear.
“Look, I didn’t want to do this I swear, I just, I have to , ok?” His heart was firmly planted in his stomach and he dropped his face into his palms.
“No, no you don’t have to do this Antony, it's your stupid bloody father!” He stood up suddenly, his body radiating with hot rage.”Its always your fucking father, can’t you just leave him in that grave! Where he belongs?”
“It's not just that, I have a house to pay for with no income, Antony, what do you expect me to do?”
“Anything! Anything else.” His voice was raspy and pleading as he dropped back to his knees next to him. “Work in a shop…or a cafe or even that shitty burger place! Ok? Just don't go there.” He looked up from his hands to meet his eyes, something unfamiliar stirring in them, hope maybe.
“I’m sorry.”
Terrified. Antony was terrified. He was always good at hiding his emotions but it was no use, his expression betrayed him. He quickly hid it with anger but Norman knew what he was doing to him and it hurt. Antonys face contorted into a painful scowl but his eyes showed no emotion. They were dark, dangerous.
“You don’t get to fucking do this Norman. You don’t get to come back into my broken life, fix it ,and then fucking break it all over again!” His eyes were shining and his chest was heaving and Norman could do nothing. “You left me! Four fucking years without you!” Antony looked like he was on the verge of screaming, his hands tugging desperately at his hair. He loved his hair.
“Ant.” Norman tried.
“Shut up.” He ground out through gritted teeth. His pain was so visible now it made his stomach twist. Norman wanted so desperately for this to end, for this to all end. If only he could just spend the rest of his life in Antony's safe embrace, that's all he wanted. But nothing was ever that simple, not for him.
“Ant..listen please. He dropped his hands from his head and stared at him, the fire in his dark eyes dwindling. “We have the whole summer till I go to Ant. The whole summer. This is not a death sentence.” Norman smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He’d hoped his reassurance had worked and Antony would calm down and they could go back to normal. Oh how he’d hoped.
“Don’t ask me to count the days down Norman.” All hope vanished immediatly. It felt like he’d taken a blow to the chest, even worse as it was by Antony's hand. “Do you know what it was like for my mother? She didn’t speak to me for a year. Her pain was immeasurable. I didn't believe it. Don’t- fuck. Don’t ask me to put myself in that situation. I don’t fucking care how low the chances are I won’t even take the risk, not for you Norman not for anyone. Not again.” Then he turned and left. Again.
Norman had let him go again.