As I flipped the switch to the trains back, everything fizzled out just as it had lit up. The small makeshift town was barren and everything went to sleep. I pulled the door closed, finally able to relax at the thought of having his birthday gift completely set up. The tile on the kitchen floor was cold and unforgiving as I padded across to the fridge, taking out the juice and some eggs as I decided to make omelets. Surely Anthony would be home soon and he'd likely be hungry after working all day. As I cracked the first egg, the front door creaked open and I heard the rustle of boots as he kicked them off and came into the kitchen, the straps to his bibbed overalls hung casually at his knees as the overalls clung haphazardly to his waist. When he stopped in front of me, there was a pause before he hugged me tightly, breathing in at my neck as if he were trying to memorize my smell.

"I'm so glad you're cooking. I'm starving."

I turned back to my eggs, tossing them over without thinking and ruining my omelet intentions. Failing to contain my huff of frustration, I scramble them around, seasoning them before transferring them to a plate. When I hand them to Anthony, he all but breathes them in, undoubtedly without even tasting them. 

"What have you done today?"

"We did everything. Finished the drywall and repainting, moved everything to where it goes, paneled the outside of the building, even did some work on the diner. What have you done?"

Without a creative imagination to think of a lie, all I can muster is a shrug, "Nothing, really. I've been waiting for you because I wanted to go for a run, but you seem so tired."

"I can go for a run if you want me to go, but I am tired."

I slide the second plate across the table as he returns the first, now digging into the sausage and the eggs that I made for him. "Let's maybe run tomorrow." As he chews, he's just watching me talk, letting the words sink in between heavy chomps of his teeth. His face almost shows relief as he slides the empty plate back after polishing everything off in a few bites before I can even finish my own little meal.

"Someone's been starving, yeah?" His sleepy nod forces a choppy laugh out of me as I rinse our plates and leave them in the sink. I run my hands down his arms, resting my face against his back as I rub my thumbs along the inside of his palms. I can really see how he could get comfortable like this. There's a certain warmth in the way his back softly shifts with his breathing and somewhere between his shoulders, it's like being lost in paradise. He begins tilting forward, his head jumping occasionally as he dozes away.

"Anthony, come on," I tug him off of the stool, leading his feet up the stairs as the rest of him stays asleep, his feet fumbling as he wobbles on a few steps. Once he's safely in our room, I pull his overalls off, nudging him onto the bed as I straighten his sweatpants and pull the blankets over him. His peaceful slumber returns and I saunter down the stairs, an unfamiliar weight in my legs as I walk into the living room. I just feel so exhausted. I change my mind, going back upstairs and to our room only to find him sitting up, his face blank and his gaze empty as he holds out his hand. I don't hesitate to take it and he pulls us into our usual spots, his nose pressed into my back. 

---

The next morning comes and with it comes a new and energetic Anthony jumping around the bed to wake me up. "Dante! Let's run like you said!" His excitement is like a thick paste in the air, surrounding everything in the room and wiggling its way through all of the little cracks and crevices until even I feel a slight rush and an urge to get up for this run that I planned and regret. I get up, shuffling down the stairs as I pull my shirt on over my head and wrap up in my jacket. I follow Anthony out of the door, matching his pace as we run down the road. Honestly, I'm so out of shape, even if I'm still technically at a good weight. I never run or go out. I'm usually messing with a book or working. I spend a lot of time doing anything that isn't physical exercise and as we round the end of the road I'm wheezing and my lungs burn. Anthony is doing just fine, his casual jog setting a much faster pace than my body is willing to keep up with. If we're really being honest, I'm considering pretending to pass out so he might carry me home. My legs are aching and wobbly, my face hot and my throat burning as I see the house in sight. Even as I slow down to a walk, my chest tightens and my heart clenches. That's it. These few steps will be my last and I'll be finished. 

After collapsing in the foyer, I latch onto Anthony's leg, laughing as he drags me into the kitchen and I let go once I can lean against the counter.

"Give me waterrr. I'm dyinggg!" I reach out and clasp for air, pretending to be in delirium as I stifle my laughter once I'm given my glass. It'll all be better once I'm not parched. Anthony leans down, ruffling my hair as he chuckles before making his way up the stairs.

"Last one in the shower gets the cold water!" As he races up the stairs, I follow, knowing exactly how to stop him. I shed my clothes as I skip steps on the way up, stopping in the doorway of the bathroom in only my underwear. When he turns around, his face lingers a moment as I jump into the tub, standing in the shower in triumph as he stares, completely taken aback and on fire as he pouts, "That's not fair."

I laugh as I pull him into the tub with me, carefully pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it to the side, tracing my fingers down his body and following all of the slight grooves that are carved along his abdomen. I kiss along the scars that break the pattern of his muscled abs. Once I've gotten him down to his bare skin and a blush, I turn on the water, twisting the knob all the way to the cold side. His first reaction is to run, jumping out of the shower and taking the curtain with him as I laugh and twist the knob to warm again. Once the water is hot again, I pull him back to me, pressing my lips against his chest as he awkwardly stands, not sure where to put his hands as they move from my sides to my arms, shifting around before he turns me around and shoves me under the water. If I weren't too sure, I'd think he were trying to drown me, but instead he wraps his arms around my side, his face resting in the groove of my neck as I turn the hot water up a bit more. I don't remember how long we stood there, my underwear soaked and clinging to my body, but before the water turned cold, I let him pull them away from my body, kicking them to the side of the tub as I became lost in his sudden boldness. 

Sometimes he lets himself be free, and in those times, I'm lost in his presence. It's overwhelming and thick, crowding the air with his musky scent and his soothing voice. The sounds escaping his throat like the growls of a wild animal. His entire aura is suffocating and magnetic, drawing me so close that I can hardly tell who I am anymore. I can barely keep up with him. He's magnificent.

---

When I wake up, it's close to noon and Anthony is sprawled out beside me on the bed, his bare back shining in the light of the window. The tanned hills of his shoulders shift as he turns, stretching and curling up into a ball, the blankets hanging onto the edge of his hips for dear life as I realize how cold it is. I pull the blankets up, realizing the everything is clingy and slightly damp. Did I fall asleep that fast? I don't even remember leaving the shower. I can't help it as I reach over, tangling my hand in the shambled remains of his freshly dry hair. As I brush through his curls, I carefully untangle them, basking in the softness and the smell of his scent. It's very earthy and warm, the back of his neck smelling like fresh wood and forest. I get up, pulling myself away. I tip toe through the house to pick up a box I had forgotten in the trunk of my car, smuggling the small box into the room I've made for Anthony's birthday. It looks like a gift that was meant for someone from Anthony, maybe a birthday or a holiday gift, but it was never opened. As I look over the box, the name says Caleb and I remember it being written on the back of a picture of who I thought was Anthony, but it must be his brother. I tuck the gift under the table for the train set and quietly shut the door, glancing over to make sure he's still fast asleep. I carefully pull my clothes on, tucking my feet into my socks for warmth before I pick up my phone and crawl back into bed.

Daniel: You're father has passed away. His funeral is in two days if you care to show up. Your mom doesn't care if you show up, but I think you should. He's still your father.

I read over the text a few times, feeling an odd sense of loss for someone whom I never felt I had and I lock the screen, tossing my phone on the nightstand. If it weren't for Daniel, I'd have nothing to do with my family. Daniel is my cousin. He's kind of indifferent to me, but he isn't cruel and he does actually treat me like a human. As I grew up, he'd sometimes listen to me talk about how miserable I was even though it seemed like maybe he wasn't listening as intently as he pretended. However, when it came down to business, Daniel was the guy to stand behind. He wasn't necessarily a physical wall, being the five foot tall guy who never weighed more than one hundred pounds soaking wet, but he could easily meander his way out of trouble using his charming words and countless connections throughout the community. Daniel had a lot of friends and some of them were in high places, making me question just how he became friends with these people as some of them were less than honorable. I send a text to Mike, asking him for the next few days off before I nudge Anthony to wake him up. 

When he stretches over to my side, he surrounds me, pulling me into him as I gingerly bring up the topic, "My father died so I have to go to his funeral in a couple of days. I'm going back to Hattiesburg." Maybe I forgot what the word gingerly meant . . . 

"What? He died? I'm so sorry, Dante." He brushes his hand across my face, kissing my forehead as he rubs my cheek. 

"It's fine. I don't really care. I'm only going because my cousin wants me to go." I shrug, leaning my face into his palm anyways. I give him a moment before I see him pout. 

"I'm going to miss you, unless you want me to go?" I shake my head, reminding him that there's no way I want to stir up any trouble in that place before I get up.

"Do you want to help me pack? It's only going to be for a couple days." I watch him sulk over to our dresser, pulling out clothes and handing them to me. His aura is daunting and I dare not assume it is because of me, but I feel like he's upset that I'm leaving him . . . 

---

As I come back into Hattiesburg, I basically fall out of the train because I'm so unwilling to step on this ground again. I stomp across the platform and drop my shit next to the bench nearest the exit. I'm brewing so heavily in disgust and anger at the most inopportune circumstances. Even in death he is going to ruin my life.

When I slid into Daniel's dark blue Honda Civic, I feel the car ease forward before the door is even closed. 

"Hey." The air is so uncomfortable as he nods, acknowledging my presence. I turn away, glaring out the windows at all of the uncultured swine littering my view. Daniel isn't known for being a man of many words unless those words are saving his ass and as far as I'm concerned, that's just how I'd like it. I plan to get this over with so that I can get home to celebrate the holidays. I feel a rush of nervous panic as I remember that the door isn't locked for that room. I hope he doesn't ruin his present. 

When we stop at my aunt's house, her nose is already snarled to the center of her eyebrows, her horrible attitude sweeping across the floor and dragging me down as I hear a familiar voice sobbing. It's my birth mother. As I sneak by, I can hear my aunt consoling her, but I know that later she'll only be talking about the next best thing, whatever that is.

The funeral is tomorrow and I plan to sleep as much of this time away as I can. I send my obligatory arrival texts to Anthony and Mike, tagging an I love you to the end of Anthony's message before I lay down and close my eyes. 

When morning comes, I'm already dressed in my suit, laughing to myself as I feel both giddy and empty. I guess even when someone treats you horribly, their death can still affect you. I look around the room before Daniel walks out, his eyes a little bit glassy as he shrugs his coat on and stalks towards the door. Racing to catch up, I make it into the door by the edge of my teeth, sliding into the seat like a hurricane. We spend even less time catching up than the ride here as I wonder why Daniel doesn't talk that much. The funeral is cold and empty, shards of ice whipping around us as we come to show our condolences or whatever. As I see my mother, she scoffs, flipping her face away from me in an exaggerated manner to show that she is not only upset that I'm here, but she would wish I disappear. That's exactly what I did before and I'm hoping that I can do it soon. I walk by and express my lack of concern before I walk away form the casket. Whatever. Just a few more hours before my train is leaving the station with me in it.

I stop by the refreshments table, which I've not seen at many funerals, stuffing my face with bagels and pretzels and donuts, my stomach growling viciously as I realize that I haven't eaten in days. I have to get home before Anthony's birthday and I can't have him ruining his surprise. I flip the bagel back and forth in my hand, slathering it with cream cheese and nuts before I sandwich it back together. 

"Hey, welcome back."