A shadow from the past

Scott grumbled disgruntledly once he realized the glass was empty. With little control over his limbs, he slammed it onto the bar and yelled:

“Another!”

“Doon’t think so, lad,”the old bartender said with his grating Scottish accent. “Ye’ve bin drinkin’ mair ‘an enough.”

“Don’t tell me I've had enough, kilt wearin’ cunt,”Scott growled and pointed a meaty finger at McClain.

McClain sighed, before putting down another glass in front of him. He had barely finished filling it, before Scott took the glass and downed the amber drink like a thirsty beggar. Scott could feel himself shiver as he sunk deeper into the deceptive warmth of intoxication. 

“Am wonderin’ aboot yer reesons fo’ drinkin’ yer heed aff evry noo an ‘en,”McClain mumbled while cleaning out a few beer mugs. Scott only muttered:

“You don’t want to know.”

McClain looked at him with a raised eyebrow, but decided to not press on and carry on with his duties. Once left alone, Scott laid down against the firm wood and started to spin his glass in endless circles. What he had become was to be considered a tragedy. Once the golden child who was going to do wonders in this hell hole of a world, just to be thrown out of his own home like some unwanted pest. Sometimes he’d wonder if his mother ever told anyone why she had forbidden her beloved son to ever come back. Most likely not. The shame was already too great. He would never forgot her red crying eyes as she yelled at him with such rage and sadness that it was heartbreaking:

“Show yourself again, and I’ll blow your brains out, boy!”

Since then he had been on his own, on an never ending voyage throughout his homeland. Every now and then, he’d stop by a ranch to work. He had never thought that his childhood on a small farm in Arizona would lead to this, but it was an honest living. With hard work and good manners, he’d usually earn quite the reputation amongst his coworkers and employers alike. However, usually he never lasted very long, and that was due to his deepest and darkest desire. Usually he’d leave before anything happened. A few times he had fallen for the temptation, either forcing him to leave quickly before getting caught or getting himself kicked out from the farm. Sometimes he’d scold himself for being so careless, but what could he do? Wasn’t he just human after all?

Amidst his self-pity, the door to the saloon opened with a hard bang. Scott shot up from his chair, just to see who had entered the saloon in such a crude manner. His answer came in the form of a tall and slender man. The hat shadowing his face combined with the dim light made it impossible to determine the man’s age, but if Scott was to guess he’d say at least thirty. Scott found himself to be mesmerized by the man’s movements, as he walked with graceful and confident strides similar to that of a panther. Yet Scott could feel something much more alert linger underneath the surface, like a snake ready to strike. It was this alertness that gave Scott a weird feeling of deja vu, at least that was what he thought. Before he had a chance to ponder over this odd feeling, the man had taken a seat next to him. Having the man this close to him, Scott found him to be very handsome. The high prominent cheekbones, dark purple circles under his eyes and pale hue of his skin made his face resemble a skull. Luckily the freckles covering his cheeks and the neatly trimmed beard made him seem somewhat human. However, most of Scott’s attention was focused on the stranger’s lips. Scott had always been weak for a pair of pretty lips, and those were no exception. Disproportionally full for the thin face and with the most lovely coral tint, Scott found himself wanting a taste of them, tasting them once again. This line of thought made Scott come somewhat to his senses, even in his drunken state. What had he even meant by that? Eventually, he figured he had probably kissed similar lips before. After all, it wasn’t like he had lacked lovers in his life. 

“Whit can A get fur ye,”McClain asked the newcomer. 

“Ole Smoky Moonshine Blue Flame,”the stranger said with a coarse deep voice, a soft twang of a southern accent lacing his words. The reason behind the roughened voice came when the stranger pulled out a package of cigarettes from his pocket. Scott, who at this point hadn’t touched a cigarette for at least ten years, recognized the red signet with a tiny black devil. Those had been his favorites back in the days when he was an avid smoker.

“Now that’s some good shit,”Scott mumbled to himself. Apparently the stranger had heard him, as he stopped with his lighter just inches from his face to look at Scott. With his piercing gaze fixated on him, Scott could now tell that the stranger’s eyes had the coldest shade of blue, which stood in stark contrast to the dark makeup rimming them. A simultaneously recognizing and mysterious smile formed upon the stranger’s lips, before he lit the cigarette in a quick motion.

“Speakin’ of the devil,”the man spoke, small clouds of smoke escaping his mouth. “What are you doin’ here?”

The way the man spoke to him was reminiscent of the way someone would speak to an old pal they hadn’t seen in ages, which confused Scott greatly. He tried to look for signs that could tell him where or when he had ever met this man before, but to no avail. His mind remained blank.

“The same as you, I suppose?”Scott said. The stranger looked at him with a raised eyebrow, his peculiar smile never once fading.

“Well, I’m hardly here to drink myself stupid, judgin’ from your slurred speech and stinkin’ breath,”the man said calmly. Before he could continue, a glass with a clear liquid was placed in front of him. Scott watched as the stranger brought the glass up to his nose, smelling his drink before leaning his head backwards and downing the whole glass in a matter of seconds. The whole movement was swift and almost seductive, his neck arching in the most elegant manner. Then he let out a content sigh, before putting the glass down.

“There we go,”he said. “Misty taste of moonshine, right?”

He let out a soft snicker, before meeting Scott’s mesmerized gaze again.

“I have to admit that I’ve never really understood the charm of the mists of drunken stupor,”the man said. “I’ve always preferred the quick high from this little tag of poison. That, and a nice orgasm.”

He blew out some smoke, his lips pouting in the most delightful of ways. Then he smirked as he tilted his head and looked knowingly at Scott.

“But of course you know all about that one, don’t you?”

This caused Scott even greater confusion than before. It was possible that they had met before, not that Scott could remember it at the moment, but never once had he ever slept with this man. Not that he was opposed to the thought. The realization of this made his cheeks burn with embarrassment. The man then threw his head backwards as he let out a rumbling laughter.

“Damn, Scott, I don’t remember you bein’ a prude!”

Scott wanted to speak, but the panic seemed to paralyze his tongue, rendering him unable to even utter a single sound. Not only did this man claim to have slept with him, but he also knew his name, and yet Scott couldn’t even remember ever meeting him before. Once the initial shock had settled, Scott finally managed to ask:

“Have we met before?”

“A long time ago,”the man said softly, his smile faltering ever so slightly in disappointment. “Things have changed quite a lot since then, as they tend to do.”

At this point, Scott was really scrutinizing the man. There was something familiar about him, though Scott was yet to pinpoint exactly what. The alcohol in his system didn’t exactly help.

“I’m sorry, sir,”Scott apologized. “I would have recognized a face like yours.”

“You flatter me,”the stranger said, the corners of his mouth tilting upwards in the most endearing of ways. “But you probably found me more beautiful back then. You used to tell me that I was the most perfect boy in the world.”

At that point, he had taken an affectionate hold of Scott’s hand, as if they had been lovers since the dawn of time. While Scott felt a twinge of discomfort, he didn’t really mind this. It had been a long time since anyone had ever cared to notice him in any other way than some drunken old man. If only Scott could remember who he was.

“How about we head back to my place and talk about it?”Scott suggested. Even though he didn’t know this man, he wasn’t ready to part ways. If he had a chance to spend more time with this lovely man, he would take it. The man immediately lit up and nodded eagerly.

“That would be nice,”he said. 

“Sorry for the mess,”Scott mumbled as the door swung open, revealing the less than pleasant state of his tiny little apartment. 

“It’s fine,”the stranger reassured him. “I’ve seen stables more filthy than this.”

Scott had been more drunk than he had realized. When he had gotten up from his chair back at the bar, it felt like he was walking on a stormy sea rather than wooden floor. To his luck the stranger, despite his slender frame, was able to support him all the way to his home. Scott hadn’t minded one bit, as he could seek comfort in another human’s body heat. With his nose practically buried in the stranger’s clothes, he had caught a whiff of something lurking underneath the smoke and cologne. This little whiff triggered something in his intoxicated brain, something very familiar to him, and made him realize that he had indeed met the stranger before. To his frustration, it didn’t help him one bit to figure out who it actually was. 

“Are you a farmer?”Scott asked.

“Grown up on a ranch in Texas,”the man shrugged.

“Seems like we have something in common then,”Scott chuckled as he tried to climb over a pile of clothes. However he quickly lost his balance and fell. In a futile attempt to steady himself, he held onto the stranger’s shirt, which led to both of them ending up on the floor. While Scott let out a groan in pain, the stranger sat up with a laugh. In the tumble the hat had fallen off his head, revealing a head full of dark brown curly hair that reached easily down to his shoulders. Even though Scott felt his back hurt a bit, he couldn’t help but feel some kind of familiarity. The man laughing, while Scott watched with the deepest adoration. Why couldn’t he just remember?

“Eager, are we?”the stranger said, his voice instantly taking on a more seductive tone. “But you’ve always been eager….”

Before Scott had the chance to protest, the man had straddled his hips and started to unbutton his shirt. Scott was surprised by this maneuver, but at this point he was just flattered to be desired for the first time in so long. As if things couldn’t get better, the man started to press soft kisses against his neck. In lack of anything better to do, Scott reached up to caress the man above him. As he started to run his fingers through the man’s hair, he realized how familiar this predicament actually was. However, something felt off. He had definitely touched those soft curls before, but he remembered them as being slightly greasier than this. He had definitely roamed his hands over this slim body, but not feeling firm muscles under his fingers. He had definitely had this man straddling his hips before, but this body felt too heavy. As if the man could sense his growing unease, he sat up and looked down at Scott.

“You really don’t remember, do you?”the man said, sounding almost hurt. Scott didn’t know what to say. In a way he did remember, but then again he didn’t. Was it even possible to remember something, yet don’t? The only thing Scott could do at this point was to slowly shake his head.

“Let me help you, then,”the man spoke, before pressing his lips against Scott’s. As Scott closed his eyes, as he let himself get swept away by the rising and falling tides of passion those kisses brought onto him. How could he ever have forgotten those lips, those lips he used to kiss with such vigor so many years ago? But there were many things that didn’t align with his memories. The skillful kisses could only come from years of experience, whereas Scott remembered those lips moving in an almost clumsy manner. The taste of the man’s lips and tongue was a cocktail of moonshine and tobacco, while Scott could only remember the sweet summery taste of fresh strawberries. Not to mention the beard scraping against his chin. To his dismay, the man stopped to look down at him.

“Who are you?”Scott asked. The smile he got was taunting.

“Oh, old and senile Scott don’t remember me?”the man said coldly, looking at him with burning hatred. “But of course, I didn’t introduce myself earlier.”

As the man leaned down to whisper in his ear, Scott saw something he should have noticed earlier. Underneath the man’s right eye, a dark birthmark was visible. In the dim light in the bar, Scott hadn’t noticed it. Before he knew it, all the memories came rushing at him. The burning hot summer sun in Texas. Soft lips that tasted faintly of strawberries. Smooth freckled skin underneath his finger tips. Hands that fumbled in attempts to learn the ancient art of love. As this realization hit him, he could feel himself fade away. Just before his world turned black, he heard the soft whisper of the man revealing his name.

The next day Scott was awoken by the blinding sun and a hellish headache. To his surprise he found himself in his bed. How did he even get here? The last thing he remembered was laying on the floor, Timothy straddling his hips, his lips only inches from his ear. Immediately he shot up and rushed out of his room, ignoring the bolts of pain flashing through his brain by every step he took. To his relief, he found his apartment empty. Maybe it had just been a drunken dream. However the stench from overfilled trash bags made him gag. Better get them out of here before he vomited all over the floor. On his way back to his apartment, he ran into Mrs Lambert, his landlord.

“Good morning, Mrs Lambert!”he greeted her kindly. The old woman looked at him in an almost disgusted manner as she seemed to keep a certain distance from him. This was odd. Mrs Lambert always spared a kind smile for everyone, no matter the time of the day,

“Good morning, Mr Abbott,”she replied stiffly. 

“Are you alright?”Scott asked, as he felt himself growing concerned over this strange behavior. She twitched ever so slightly, before giving him a strained smile and replying;

“Oh, it’s nothing special, just preparing for my children and grandchildren coming over for a barbeque.”

“Sounds nice,”Scott said. “If you need any help, I’ll happily lend a hand.”

Mrs Lambert averted her gaze and nimbled on her lower lip, as if contemplating over something.

“I’d prefer it if you stay away this time,”she said quietly. Scott could feel his heart drop. Never had Mrs Lambert turned him away like this. If anything she had been a rock during the last difficult months.

“What do you mean?”Scott asked.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,”she said. “But two of my grandsons are teenagers, and considering your infatuation with those…..”

Scott could feel his whole body turn cold from shock. She knew. If she knew, there would only be a matter of time before the whole neighborhood found out.

“Who told you?”he asked, his voice quivering.

“Oh, the young man who was here last night,”Mrs Lambert said. “He came down to me and asked me for help, and….”

Before she could finish her sentence, he had bolted up the stairs. The only thing he wanted was to run away. He slammed the door shut behind him, while trying to come up with an escape plan. That was when he noticed three objects on the kitchen table. How did he even miss them? As he got closer, the first thing that caught his attention was the photo of a young boy. He immediately noticed the similarities between the man he had met the night before. Thick dark brown hair, full coral tinted lips, slender limbs and eyes blue as ice. Next to it was a short letter. With shaky hands, Scott picked it up and started to read:

Dear Scott. I found this in your drawer. Things sure have changed during the last twenty years. While your landlord helped me get you in bed, I told her about our past. Hope you don’t mind. I also found another thing that might come in handy for you. Use it however you want. You’ll need it.

With best regards, T

With a hand running through his gray hair and tears streaming down his face, he sunk to his knees, eyes fixated on the fully loaded revolver.