Part Six: Darkness

  Schuderich stands up from his spot at the foot of the bed. For the first time since he has barged in, I realize that he's still fully dressed, looking as sharp as ever in his dark green blazer and khaki pants. I know he hasn't even tried to get to sleep yet. I wonder if maybe he was thinking about the same thing I was.
   My glasses slide down on my nose again and I push them back up almost automatically with my index finger. Schuderich watches me and smiles as if something about it amuses him.
   "You okay now, Brad?" he asks in a cheerful voice. I know he's hiding his true emotions for my sake.
   "Yeah--I mean, no..." I admit, my voice trailing off. I don't know what to say next.
   "Do you want to talk?" he asks me. For Schuderich, this is a first. I know that Schuderich hates open discussion, since he can just pull all the information he needs straight out of peoples' minds. And since it requires honesty. Schuderich hates to be honest. He's a good liar, and ruthless. But now I wonder if he really does like to lie. Or even to kill. And I still wonder...does he feel the remorse and regret, and the burning pain that I'm inflicted with?
   "I guess," I tell him. He knows I mean to say 'yes'. We know each other too well. A faint smile plays over my face, thinking of the past years. Of all the dumb little things we know about each other. All his little idiosyncracies that sometimes piss me off, like how he speaks German when he gets angry or impatint. And the way I can relate, because I yell in English when I lose my temper. About how Schuderich loves to bother me while I'm busy at work, just to see how much farther he can push me. And the way he loves to call me Brad, despite the fact that I have forbidden him or anyone else to do so.
   It's really strange. I've never thought about all these little things, but now they give me a sense of belonging, and of happiness. And this unexplainable warmth that washes over my heart, blanketing the pain.
   Schuderich sits down on the bed again, a bit closer to me than before. For a few seconds he studies a scar on the back of his hand (which, if I recall, I gave him with a steak-knife after losing my temper at him). Then he looks up at me, staring directly into my eyes. Neither of us say anything, nor do we know what to say. But just his presence seems to be enough to calm my aching heart.
   Schuderich knows what I am thinking and smiles, remembering the same things I am, thinking my same thoughts. I find myself laughing, and after a few seconds, Schuderich joins in. We laugh for  a good five minutes and when I finally stop and gain control, my stomach muscles are sore. I haven't laughed like this since....no, I don't recall ever laughing like this. Or ever feeling this calm.
   "So I guess this means you're all right now?" Schuderich asks, sounding like a father comforting a son awoken in the night by a frightening dream.  And he was, in a way, I think.
   "Well, for now, I guess. But not later," I tell Schuderich honestly. I know that the second he leaves, those hellish thoughts will return. Schuderich has become a barrier between me and hell.
   What he does next surprises me more than anything. Schuderich puts his arms around me gently and kisses me. I find myself kissing back eagerly, hungrily. He pulls me in closer, pulls my body to rest against his. I run my hands through his silky red hair, down his broad chest. It's strange, the way I react to this. I used to be disgusted at the idea of kissing another man. But now it doesn't bother me. Rather I find myself needing his kisses to soothe the burning of my afflicted soul. I've never felt so calm or so joyful in my life. Maybe this is love, I think.
   Schuderich releases me long enough to say, "Stop thinking. Your'e ruining the experience."
   I smile and eagerly lose myself in him again, realizing that at some point we had lay down together  on the big bed. Schuderich's body rests comfortably against mine, like it belongs there. And it does, I think to myself.
Like two pieces of the puzzle they call life that fit together perfectly. Two people that need to be together. Our mouths meld together with lurid perfection.
   I vow to myself that I will never let go of him, never let him leave me. And I will never shut him out of my life. I need him. And I belong with him. My place is here. In Schuderich's heart.
   Then another thought breaks into my mind. Maybe, just maybe, I tell myself, the years of pain are worth these few moments of happiness and pleasure.
   And for the first time that I remember, I am truly happy that I don't have a heart of stone. After all, a cold heart feels no emotion. No pain, no remorse...but it also feels no pleasure. No happiness, no joy. Nothing.