Status: One Shot

Fear Is the Heart of Love

On A Sunday

Sunday afternoon, he made his way down a Chicago street, heading home from second service. It was a chilly day, and he regretted not bringing a jacket as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans to protect them from freezing.

Turning a final corner into an alley, he pulled his keys out from his left pocket. He pulled the steel gate across that hid the door and shakily put the key to the lock. The door squeaked open. He slammed his body against it in attempt to close it properly. The yellow stained wall of the stair case was splotched with mildew. The stairs creaked as he walked up to the forth floor. The lights flickered in the hallway, helping with the eery aura of the apartment building. When he reached the end of the hall he stuck the key in the door and carefully pushed it open. As he turned on the light, he looked around the room taking in every detail, promising to get into a proper apartment as soon as he found a more secure job. The room was an exact square. On the the left wall there was a sink, oven, two pantries, a counter, and a small refrigerator. The bed was sticking out from the right wall, beside it sat a small desk, filled with clutter and that mornings dishes from breakfast. Then there was the small gap in the wall called, a closet, there where three sweaters, one jacket, a pair of dress shoes, thirteen t-shirts, two pairs of trousers and one suit for special occasions, exactly. The one other room in the apartment was a small bathroom. There was a sink, a rusty cabinet, a toilet and a standing shower.

He threw the keys onto the desk and dragged his body to the bed, getting some sleep before his midnight shift at the small cafe down the street. Making sure to set his alarm as so he wouldn't be late. He lay down on the uncomfortable bed and hoped that he would get at least one hour of sleep before he would have to go to work. Just as he was on the brink of sleep, the phone rang. Missing the first two rings, he lay still, deciding that he should in fact pick up the call. He hopped up and searched in the pockets of his jacket for the cell phone. Just as his hand clasped around the small device it stopped ringing. He sighed and lay down again. A couple seconds later the phone came back to life again, vibrating. He flipped it open and read the text from his mother.

John, call me. I want to know how you are doing. Miss you, lots of love,

-Mom xoxo


John ignored the text and lay back down in bed, desperately needing sleep. HIs mother never did understand that there was a reason he moved so far away as soon as he could. Not that John didn't love his mother, she was just a pain. It didn't take long for him to drift away into unconsciousness.

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John walked down the dark, eery, Chicago street, that some people would consider scary. If he hadn't tread down this street at night thousands of times, he might think the same, but he had yet to find a reason as to why it would be a danger. The cafe was near his apartment, so luckily, he didn't have far to walk. He approached the small building and opened the door. He was blasted with warmth and the smell of greasy food. It was a run down place, but had good food which managed to get customers, but only the ones who run down themselves and brave enough to be seen in such a place. Most of the people who entered where druggies or people who weren't far from it. It was hardly a place for a man like John to be working, but it payed well, and he couldn't get anything better.

This night was fairly quiet. The door rang as it opened to let in the second costumer of the late night. It was a young lady, about the same age of John. No older than 26. She had long dark hair and a face that was soft, yet held a hard expression. Her long legs tread to the booth nearest the door on the left. Her heels clicked on the vinyl floor and her hips swayed gracefully. John walked over to hand her a menu.

"I'll have a coffee." She spoke, raising her hand to motion she didn't have need of a menu. "Black."

John said nothing and left to fill a yellow mug of the thick black coffee, which he personally found incredibly dreadful. He walked over to the girl and placed the mug on the table in front of her. She looked up at him with her deep blue eyes.

"Thanks" Her red lips moved perfectly.

"Your welcome." John stood there, observing her eyes, before moving to lift the dishes of a heavy, bearded man on the other side of the room.

Having nothing else to do he wiped the tables. The entire shift was spent re filling the mug of the woman in the booth closest to the door. She stayed the entire night. Only as John was leaving the building at the end of his shift did the woman leave her seat, throwing a couple coins on the table for the next bus boy to pick up. John ignored her as he heard her heels clacking behind him. He was fully aware that she was following him, but didn't care, he was too tired to care. It wasn't until she called his name outside the door of his apartment building that he stopped.

"How do you know my name?" He asked

She tilted her head to the side and smiled. "It was on your name tag."

John pondered on the thought for a moment. "Yes, what would you like?"

She didn't answer, she just walked up to him stopping, a little too close for comfort. She looked at him up and down and slowly leaned in. Their lips met. John didn't know why he was doing so, but he let it happen. He slid his tongue across her lip cautiously. She smirked and let him in.

What was are you doing? You don't even know her. This is not an act that a man like you should be doing. What's her name?

"Kara" The woman spoke, as if answering his question. She broke the kiss.

John stared at her, taking in what was happening. He didn't know why he was doing it, but he took her hand and led her up the stairs, down the hall, and into his apartment. The moment they where inside, their lips where on each others again. They shed their jackets and made their way to the bed. Their shirts where strewn on the floor and their jeans followed suit.

WHAT AM I DOING?

John couldn't do this. This wasn't him. Sex before marriage wasn't exactly something he was against, even if his belief system was, but he did believe that a couple should at the least, be in love. He couldn't be in love with this Kara, other than her name he knew nothing about her. Also, he promised himself at a very young age he would never fall in love. In school he was thought many things, one of them being that along with love, comes fear and despair in some situations, despair. He was feeling something for her tough. Mixed emotions, one of them was surely fear. Could he be in love? This may have been something that was meant to happen, they where meant for each other. Then, he made his decision. He reached around her back and unclasped her black, lacy bra. Eventually they where both naked, lying, with John on top, on his bed. He positioned himself, thinking one last time if this was right. Kara laughed with a wild smile as he pushed inside her. Then, John found himself in darkness. He had been pulled away from his apartment, the bed, and Kara. Thankfully he was clothed again. Darkness surrounded him. He stood up and spun around in panic.

"Hello, is anybody here?" There was no response. "HELLO?"

He was scared, and panicking. "Please, anybody." He sobbed.

There was a flash in the distance, and in the darkness, there was a dash of white light. He scrunched his eyebrows. This couldn't be... was he dead? What could have possibly happened? He slowly creeped towards the light, squinting to see what was ahead.

"John" A female voice called.

John spun around shocked. Kara was standing there, dressed the same way she was before they entered his apartment. She held out her hand for him to take. She smiled, but it was more like a smirk. John looked back at the light that was slowly fading away, if he wanted to see what it was, he would have to go now. Then he turned back to Kara, and he felt desire well up inside him. Hesitantly he took her hand, and she walked him in the opposite direction of the light. Without looking back, he followed, as they where swallowed into pure darkness.

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Beep! Beep! Beep!

John woke with a start, remembering his dream. He sat in bed a while, thinking of what had just happened in his mind. He then decided to ignore it. He stood and got changed into clean clothes for his night at work. He washed his face and made his way out of the apartment, being sure to lock the door behind him. The dark Chicago street that normally held no intimidation for John, felt strangely scary tonight. He ignored and walked the rest of the way to the cafe. The familiar blast of warmth and smell of grease hit him as he walked in.

"Hey Barny!" He yelled to the fry cook in the back.

"John" He answered.

It was a quiet night. He served the heavy, bearded man his sandwich and went to get another can of coke for the man when the door opened and in came a young lady, about Johns age, no older than 26. She had long dark hair and a face that was soft, yet held a hard expression. She walked over to the booth closest to the door on the left.