"No. We can't do this anymore."

"Why not?" comes softly from my mouth. A plea, a prayer.

"I love you Chris. But we can't keep doing this, this lying. I hate pretending that we're not intimate just because some people think our relationship is wrong."

"So we'll tell them."

"Do you realize what would happen if we did? Our lives are so public -- it would be a disaster. And I don't think I'm comfortable enough with it to be out."

I already knew he wasn't comfortable with it.

Just last month, we were held over one night in a no-name town halfway between nowhere and purgatory. The only lodging was a somewhat cheap motel. JC and I had been walking out by the scummy-looking pool when a group of locals walked by.

We hadn't even been holding hands or doing anything that could be construed as us being together, but since they recognized us, and weren't too fond of us, they decided to harass us. The first word we heard was "fags" whispered quietly one to another, fingers pointed in our direction. I bit my tongue and just ignored it, but it stopped JC in his tracks.

This peaked their attention, and one of the louder ones yelled, "Hey, look at those faggots." The rest laughed and he continued. "Hey sissy singing boys. C'mere! Maybe if I beat you hard enough you'll stop dancing like fairies."

JC turned an unattractive shade of red. If our bodyguards hadn't noticed this exchange, I'm sure JC would have fought him. It would've ended badly, us being outnumbered seven to two.

It was dangerous to be what we were. Gay. Faggots. I cringed. Had those guys realized that we really were gay, they probably would've done less laughing and more ass kicking. And who knows, maybe our bodyguards wouldn't have gotten there in time. It won't do us any good to be out. Just another reason for somebody to hate us.

********

It had been the happiest seven months of my life. It all started when we had a break from touring, from recording, from being in the spotlight. And I finally could admit to myself that I was in love with him. I had told the other four guys that I was gay about two years after we formed the group -- they were all okay with it. And none of them acted any differently around me. Except him. But it could've just been my imagination -- he touched me more than he did the other guys. We talked more, even more than I did with Joey, who I always assumed I would fall for.

I planned on going skiing -- he wanted to come with me, and how could I refuse. We stayed at a resort about sixty miles outside of Pittsburgh -- the place my father took me skiing when I was a kid. I was excited that I would get to spend time alone with him -- something I hardly ever got to do. It was a beautiful day. The sun was out, the skiing was exhilarating, and it snowed as we came in for the night. After I had gone to my room and he'd supposedly crashed on the couch, I heard a knock on my door.

"Can I come in?" he asked and cracked open the door.

"Sure." I didn't expected this, and I hadn't worn anything to bed. So I tensed up a bit when he came in and sat down next to me.

He must have noticed. He asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I squeaked. Damn this high voice of mine.

He smiled, somewhat knowingly, and leaned towards me. "Don't worry, I won't peek if you don't want me too," he said and immediately blushed.

I must have looked somewhat confused, and turned an equally bright shade of red.

"You didn't know that I liked you that much, did you?" he said, and stuck out his bottom lip. "Why do you think I wanted to come with you?"

"I don't know. Why?" I said. I looked out the window. The snow fell soft on the windowpane.

"Well," he said, looking down and picking at his fingernails. "I love you." He paused and looked up at me. "And I want you to make love to me." He lowered his eyes again.

I lifted his chin in my hand so I could keep eye contact. I could almost see the snow falling in his eyes. "JC... I... um... really?"

"Yes," he said and leaned in the last few inches and kissed me.

I pushed in the slightest bit and JC scrunched his eyes. His legs were wrapped around my waist and I could feel his thighs contract.

"Talk to me," I said. "Tell me if I need to pull back out."

"A little, pull out just a little," he said.

I could feel his muscles relax. He moaned and held his breath.

"Okay," he said. "Try again."

I pushed again, this time further in. JC cried out, half from pleasure, half from pain. I leaned down to kiss him, which made me slide out a bit.

"Wait, wait!" he hissed. I stopped and watched him concentrate on his breathing. "Okay. Pull out again." I pulled out all but the tip of my penis.

JC panted, still not in control of his breathing, his brow becoming moist. "All right," he said. "Third time's the charm." He smiled sweetly and shifted his hips.

I pushed in and this time sank deep. I felt like I was going to faint. I couldn't hear anything anymore as I thrust slowly in and out of JC. In front of my eyes, light shattered into a million snowflakes.

"Chris?" JC said. "Hello? Are you there?"

My thoughts jolted back to the lithe man I was fucking. "Yeah. I'm here. This is just... so unbelievably good." I said. JC teased me with his eyes as he stroked himself.

********

I have nightmares lately. Dreams of ice and snow and cold and loneliness. JC is at my apartment, and I look at him through the window. His back is turned to me. Something is wrong. I don't know what though, so I am agitated and adrenaline rushes to the tips of my fingers. It's really cold outside -- I look down and there is snow on the ground. My feet go numb. JC sits on the couch, his head down, his body slumped. All the energy he normally possesses drains into a pool at his feet -- it's like I can actually see it, and it reminds me of blood. I scream at him, my voice echoes off the glass. I know he can hear me, but he won't look up.

I wake up, sometimes in a panic, shivering and muttering words I don't remember after I say them. He's usually beside me, and stirs enough to ask me if I'm okay, place a kiss on my cheek or neck and fall back asleep with his arms around me. But I'll lie awake for a while after that and think about the cold, think about what it would be like without him.

Despite the fact that he has broken up with me, he looks at me with those luminous blue eyes and leans in to kiss me. His mouth seems warmer than usual. I press my tongue in, he accepts, and I cling to him like wet snow. He lets out a loud moaning sigh and I feel my heart crumble. The snow falls and my ears buzz. He lets go of me and looks at me, eyes wet and clouded like death. My eyes sting -- I shut them tightly. He grabs my face and turns it to look at him. My eyes, however still closed.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice broken. I'm sorry too, but I can't vocalize it. The snow still falls. Instead, I look him in the eyes.

"I wish... I wish," he said, but wasn't able to force out the bleak sentence. "Chris" escaped his lips. "I don't know if I can really do this, but we have to, at least for now."

My tears had been falling since "I'm sorry" and now they exploded like a storm. His words -- both hauntingly grim and desperately hopeful -- I never remember that any words had hurt me so much. And here I stand, as if amid snow falling, cold and dizzied. But I can just imagine, just wrap my heart around the day that all this melts around us, the world finally letting us be who we are.

End.