Heart Shaped Glasses

On the table, there sits a translucent vase, filled halfway up with water that is merely prolonging the life of the single rose propped in it. It tilted to one side, the petals already wilting although it'd been purchased a mere six hours ago from a cheap roadside stand. On either side of the vase were two candles burning dangerously low, creating beautiful reflections against the slightly textured glass.

If the vase was reminiscent of the table, then the candles represented the two people who should have been sitting on either side, all glossy eyes and sugar words, sharing sweet nothings while talking about past memories and future ideas.

But as one candle finally gave up the ghost and flickered out in a silent puff of smoke, there was still only one person sitting at the table, gazing solemnly down at his fingers in the dimness.

A silence of an entirely different kind filled the space between the two men as they stared each other down, gripping collars and holding fate in their hands. A tongue flicks against chapped skin, just taunting the other to make a move, any kind of move at all.

A quiet groan falls from mint flavored lips as their bodies press against each other harder, fitting smoothly together like a puzzle. Both of them had missed this, been craving it for weeks. Finally, the calmness of the whole situation becomes too much and is destroyed in a wild frenzy of grinding hips and desperate fingers tearing wildly at thin fabric, ripping holes that will be only too obvious.

The flickering flame illuminates the ring adorning his left hand, the light becoming trapped in the etched words that decorates the otherwise flawless surface. His right hand absently plays with it, spinning it around and around as his eyes return to looking at the lonesome rose. There had been two, but the other had already died, being thrown in the trash while the sun was just setting.

Wax dripped onto the tablecloth, slowly solidifying and still he sat alone, watching time tick by excruciatingly slowly.

Clothes trailed from the hallway into the bedroom, almost like the breadcrumbs Hansel and Gretel had left in their fairytale. If anyone had wanted to find either of the males, all they'd have to do was follow the path. Although they hadn't actually reached the final stage, they were close enough; only a very thin layer of fabric separated their bare skin, and it might as well have been non-existent for all the good it was doing hiding their want for the other.

"Bed, now." Their ability to speak had gone back to monosyllabic grunts and curses under their breath as they stepped around obstacles, heading for the final resting place.

The television seemed far too loud in the crypt like silence, filling the entire space even when it was on the lowest possible setting. He hadn't bothered changing the channel, leaving it on some generic network that was showing an equally generic late night talk show. The topic of discussion was something about having out of control teenage daughters, but he didn't pay any attention. Above the television was a wall mounted clock, the hands of which were steadily creeping closer and closer to midnight.

Twelve chimes rang out and still the front door remained closed. The meal he'd spent hours perfecting with the help of his mother went further than cold. Eventually, he got sick of it's aroma mocking him and he swept it all into the garbage, wincing as it covered up the dead rose.

It was ten after twelve.

Blankets, sheets, pillows... all was swept off the bed by flailing arms and bucking hips that slid against each other in a desperate, frenzied battle. Both knew that they'd already far over stayed the time they'd had available but they couldn't just stop now; it was already too late for that. This was past the point of fooling around, of innocent flirting. It never should have came this far but as the headboard rocked against the wall, mimicking the rhythm of their bodies, neither could deny that this was what they'd been waiting for since the moment they made their "appointment."

His eyes began to droop but he stubbornly fought off his tiredness, trying to keep himself distracted. He tried to keep his thoughts away from the negative, tried not to imagine why it was twelve thirty and he was still alone. The weather was fine but maybe he'd got stuck in traffic, maybe he was stopping at his parents, maybe... maybe there'd been an accident.

That wasn't right. If there'd been an accident, if something bad had happened, someone would have called. The image of his beloved lying on a hospital bed, broken beyond recognition, was not something he wanted to imagine.

So he returned to his spot on the couch, flicked on the cartoon network and waited.

Thankfully this wasn't an apartment complex, or the neighbors would have been witnesses to quite the loud symphony. Even with lips pressed fiercely against skin, tasting sweat and blood as teeth nipped gently, this was by no means a quiet encounter. Pent up lust was coming out quickly and viciously as the older of the two moved his hips increasingly faster, using all the self control he could muster up to avoid disappointing his lover.

"Harder..." The headboard continued to dig into the wall, leaving a mark that would be seen the next day and bring back memories. Hands gripped tighter, desperately, trying to prolong the moment as much as possible. However, with an explosive finale characterized by loud cries from both parties, the frantic pace gently slowed down as the bed stopped squeaking.

For a few moments, there was only gentle panting and the kind of bliss you'd expect from newly-weds. Fingers still lightly coated in sweat held each other tightly, caressing over inked skin. Soft, drawn out kisses were exchanged on swollen lips as eyes stayed locked together, saying everything words couldn't.

"I have to go."

"I know."

He could only deny sleep so long but it seemed like mere moments before his eyes were shooting open at the small noise coming from the kitchen. Springing up off the couch as if he'd been fully rested, he hurried as fast as he could to pluck his cell phone off the counter. He hadn't received a phone call, but a text message was good enough in his book.

"Be home soon babe, I love you," he read aloud, grin spreading across his face from the mere seven words. He quickly typed out a response and returned his phone to it's former resting place before sitting back down at the kitchen table and relighting both candles. Head resting on his crossed arms, he let his eyes drift shut again, content smile still inhabiting his face.

He shut his phone, sighing heavily as he slid it back into the pocket of his jacket. A pair of arms wrapped around his waist and he leaned back against the touch, savoring the few moments they had left. He could feel his lover's hands drifting lower into dangerous territory and he turned around, shaking his head.

"No." Lips brushed together one more time and he reluctantly broke away, allowing himself only one more final caress before retreating as fast as he could. It was harsh to leave so silently but he couldn't risk staying any longer. Three hours had already gone by.

The bright green digital numbers on the stove clock proclaimed it to be almost one o'clock in the morning when he sat up, neck stiff but smile still on his face as light washed over the kitchen. By the time he heard the car door slam outside, he was already waiting in the entranceway, holding the remaining rose in his hand. The front door slowly swung open and he was faced with the epitome of beauty that never failed to blow him away.

"I'm so sorry I'm late," he murmured, not even bothering to remove his jacket before throwing himself into his husband's arms. "You know how chatty my parents get."

"Yeah, I know." He ignores the distinctive smell practically pouring from Frank's pores, puts it off to a simple overload of cologne. When he finally kisses the lips he's been waiting hours for, he hides the wince that goes through his body as he tastes the mint lip balm he knows his brother is so fond of.

He knows he should have drank something before he came home to mask the taste, but he'd already been cutting it close as it was. After pulling away, he rests his head in the hollow between neck and shoulder, already readapting himself to the different arms holding him.

"Do you wanna go to bed?" he murmurs, receiving an eager nod for a response.

The only light in the bedroom comes from the window but the full moon is enough to illuminate the bruised patches of skin dotting his husband's chest, going all the way down to below the waistband of his low slung pajama pants. When Frank says they're from his mom's dog, he merely laughs and pulls him closer, engaging him in a gentle kiss that now tastes like cinnamon toothpaste.

All the signs were there. If he needed any immediate reassurance, it came the next morning when he picked up the phone to find his brother asking for Frank.

The human mind really is an amazing thing. If you put enough will power into it, you can force yourself to believe almost anything or ignore a fact that may be clearly evident to others. It becomes even easier if a person is under the spell of love.

Love is more powerful than any other force in the world. Once you get someone wearing heart shaped glasses, there's no telling what you can make them believe.

He hangs up the phone, biting back the grin that's threatening to burst his face. Various excuses are all competing in his head and he chooses the one that seems most valid, already pulling his shoes on.

"Grandpa wants me to go over and help with some things," he yells towards the bedroom. "I should be back later." He hears a muffled response and chuckles, giving himself a quick once over in the entranceway mirror."

He stares at the ceiling, just waiting for the front door to slam, once again leaving him alone with only his thoughts. However, he hears footsteps again and turns his head to see Frank ducking his head in quickly, lit cigarette already between his lips.

"Oh and by the way Gerard, Mikey wished us both a happy anniversary."