“Where are you taking me?” the rich boy demanded as he followed his boyfriend blindly in the dark, groping at his hippie’s upper arm.
He wasn’t even sure how he had been shanghaied into allowing him to drape the wine colored scarf around his eyes. He had a feeling that another part of him had been making the decisions that he thought it would end in some kinky way. But no, that was a lie. Instead, he found himself shuffling after Coyote slowly.
“I found something really cool. It’s a surprise,” came the soothing voice of his boyfriend.
“It’d better be,” he murmured. He tried not to think of the darkness that weighed him down. He also tried to let go of the thick paranoia that gripped him, not knowing where he was going had that affect on him.
“We’re almost there,” Coyote told him.
Niklas turned his head, even though he couldn’t see anything. “It smells like mothballs. Very strongly, mind you.”
“We’re in a closet, Nikki,” the hippie replied, shortening his name as he had heard Keever do a million times.
“A closet? Dear God, why do I put up with you? What could be in a closet that could be so great that you had to blind me before dragging me here?” It was hard to keep the irritation from his voice.
Gentle hands reached over and pulled the scarf down slowly. The little room was so dark that it didn’t matter if he had the blindfold on or not. He frowned sharply, even when Coyote ran his fingers over his cheek.
“Don’t be angry, Falcon. I promise it’s good,” the free spirit said softly, tracing fingers over his lips.
“There’s nothing here but dust,” the brat frowned.
“There’s plenty here. Your family’s lived here for awhile, right?” the hippie
asked, hoping that his plan wasn’t about to come shattering down.
“Yes, this house had been in the Mayall name since before parents were born. My father grew up here and my mother down the street in one of the other mansions around here,” he replied.
“Good,” Coyote said before pulling out a lighter and a candle that had been hidden in his jacket pocket. He lit the candle and held it carefully, letting it give off its soft light. He grabbed Niklas’ hand with his unoccupied one and brought it over the wall where dust had started to collect. He drew his hand over the smooth wood until he hit a rift.
Coyote held the candle closer to the wall carefully. There was a small engraving, something so ludicrous that the rich boy could hardly believe that it was there. There were two hearts nestled into the wall, engraved and initialed by their wall defacers. They held the initials of his grandparents and his parents. His gaze slid over the area and he saw another heart, or half of it.
“We should finish it and initial it,” the hippie said softly.
“When did you get romantic?”
“Does it matter? Let’s just add our initials and finish it,” he whispered,
pulling out his pocket knife, handing Niklas the candle.
“What initials will we be using? Our names or our hippie names?”
The hippie snorted as he worked on the other half of the heart. “If you think I’m initialing something forever with that name, you’re mistaken.” He carved in a “C” when he was done before handing the tool to Niklas. Niklas slid closer, passing the candle back to him. He worked on carving an “N” as neatly as possibly.
“You had to use that name, didn’t you?” Coyote quirked an eyebrow at him.