kingdomsofrain | tfln open post

Would you do something for me?

If you need it, I'll try to explain, but the explanation's probably stranger than the request.

Not only do I allow it; I meet you evenly upon this field.

What you’ve said: That we are a kind apart from the world.

You aren’t wrong; what we are doesn’t belong here, doesn’t fit with

You never were precisely human, were you?

[ … ]

Jack. Puppy. Who are you?

You’re correct, Puppy; or your understanding meets my own.

I am not [ … ] accustomed to feeling at ease in the world. Or among men, particularly in this town. This has never been [ … ] a home.

I can’t tell you how long I’ve lived without

[ … ]

No, I suppose I really can’t tell you.

I have never known anyone the way that I know you. Where knowing mean recognition, means meeting patterns of my own being. Where knowing means ease, and comfort, and a space for authenticity, the likes of which I’ve never found.

What I am and what you are isn’t wrong. Our existence is as dire as any other; more so, I might say. (You, Jack, hold more humanity in the tip of your forefinger than most of the people here have wielded in their life.) What you are is beautiful, my Puppy. And if this world fits you awry, that is no fault of your own.

(You who gleam with a light all your own beneath the stars. You who are damnably, devilishly charming, with your swiftness in opening doors and your… Oh, how am I to define the care held in you touch? Last night, the aching in my foot was eased to a dull murmur. Last night, I melted to your touch; now, I melt again at its memory. Never doubt that you are tenderness itself. Never doubt that you set my heart to blessed racing.)

My beautiful Puppy.

My never-a-stray.

My home.

No, Jack; there can be no one after you. There could never have been anyone but you.

An explanation? No; I’ll entrust myself to your hands. Be gentle with me, hm?

What is it, Puppy?

~~Home~~

[...]

You asked what made me dizzy: 'boyfriend' or 'devastation'. Maybe it wasn't a word, after all. Maybe it's just the meaning.

Not maybe. Definitely.

You make me dizzy. I'm all twisted up about you. You say just the right things, and you [...] let me be how I am, in ways I didn't think I was capable. I'm someone else with you.

I can't talk about it sensibly because it doesn't make any kind of sense. I met you two days ago, Desmond. If you look at this from the outside, this is the dumbest thing I've ever done. All those things I said last night. And the night before. And today.

It can't look copacetic on your side, either: a younger man whose family owes you money is suddenly all over you?

[...]

I love being all over you. It's like it's okay to get carried away with you. I feel at home in my own skin when I'm with you. I feel whole. Not completed by you, but complete on my own, or less fragmented, maybe. I'm able to be everything I never knew I was - for you.

And you let me talk like this. Any other man would've been a restraining order away from me by now. Even the horses are spooked.

[...]

What I mean is, I'll keep melting you. I'll keep being tender, authentic, and charming (if you say so.) I will not always be gentle, though. Who wants that? ;)

Yes, Desmond: if there's an always (and an 'always was'), then that's how long you'll have a home in me.

Edited 2021-12-27 06:02 (UTC)

When we're alone, would you just call me 'Puppy'?

The thing is, it's strange to hear you call me 'Jack'.

It's almost like I expect you to say (or write) something else. 'Puppy' clicked right into place like a puzzle piece.

Better than 'Jack', anyhow.

Edited 2021-12-27 06:04 (UTC)

Puppy, then.

Always my Puppy. Even in public; even when I must use your other name, know that my meaning is composed of 'Puppy' and 'my own.'

And of course, all of my fondness. ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Edited 2021-12-28 04:55 (UTC)

We'll find what suits you best on every count, my Puppy.

The trouble is you’ve been someone else for so long

Puppy, I’m

We’ll find your lasting wholeness.

And I take your meaning. About wholeness. I feel [ … ] pieces of myself revived in you. I know myself in ways I thought long-gone, or [ … ] destined to linger dormant, without place.

I know myself better through your presence. ~~It’s almost as if I know you.~~ It’s as if I’ve been waiting all this time to find you.

I believe I have always been waiting, not knowing what I sought.

My boyfriend. My devastation.

My home.

Two more points—

First: The outside view is rarely aligned with veracity. Particularly where viewers are apt to term engagements beyond the expected as ‘aberrant,’ ‘ill-favored’— Or, god forbid, ‘untidy.’

I’ve seen how wildly their judgment errs. I know the slander they’ve imposed on you.

I know how wretchedly they err.

Someday, my Puppy, they’ll know the truth of what you are. (If they’re lucky. If they learn to look beyond the scope of their own restricted assholes.)

And whatever they believe, you may trust I’ll know you always, and give to you the best that’s in my self.

Second point: You caught my little feint, did you? Of course I mean to encourage a bit of roughness now and then. How could I adore my Puppy, and not also cherish his fangs? 😌

I caught your little feint. I also caught that heart you sent.

You need to be caref

We just met, we're carried away en

Desmond [...] I have to ask you for one more favor.

You put a heart up there in that first message. Whatever it means to you, no how playful it was meant to be - or maybe no matter how sure you are that it belongs there - I'd like you to hang on to it.

Just for a week. Like the collar.

For the same reason, as a matter of fact.

I'd hate to get the wrong idea and then find whatever this is can't even last a week.

I very easily get the wrong idea.

[...]

Next week, I promise: you can send as many of those as you want, in every goddamn color. Text them, draw them on my arms, make them with your fingers and thumbs. Say [...] whatever comes to mind. Store it all up and give me an avalanche of it.

No complaints from me. ~~I might find one lying around somewhere to give in return. Might have left one on your bedroom floor, as a matter of fact.~~

But for this week, be careful [...] [...] with me. Please.

~~It's just~~

It isn't that I wouldn't want it.

[...]

Them.

Heart emojis.

[...]

It.

[...]

It's not like that.

But you know that trick where someone comes to pick you up, but every time you reach to open the door, they drive a few feet, so you can't get in? Or [...] the dollar bill on the string? Reach for it and the string gets yanked?

I'm a chronic sucker for that trick.

With hearts, though.

[...]

Maybe if that one heart just sits there all by its lonesome for a week and I see it isn't snatched away or deleted, I'll be a little less skeptical about it. I'll be more comfortable accepting it.

~~In a week, I'll know whether you're the kind of person who plays games like that.~~

Edited 2021-12-28 19:13 (UTC)

Puppy. Forgive me, won't you? It wasn't my intention to cause you

I regret that you've been given cause to doubt

I promise you that my intention runs far from duplicitous

Puppy; of course.

I hear your meaning, and I'll hold my hearts until we've had our first week. I believe I can survive a little patience, hm? And I've no shortage of alternate means for expressing my interest.

As we've said, I can be quite creative when I like. 😌 And you give me great cause for expanding my vocabulary.

I'll take care, my Puppy. Of you. With you. And if I become in any other fashion incautious, only give me a word, won't you?

Meanwhile, let that first heart remain unrescinded, never-lonesome, for it's guarded with my spirit. A bearer of my fond will, to greet you with renewed meaning once this week has passed.

There's no hurry, Puppy.

All will be well.

What did I do to deserve y

Why are you being so good to m

[...]

You know, all things considered? It doesn't seem right to leave it there alone, even if your spirit - indomitable as it is, and lovelier than I've ever encountered - is keeping watch over it. You're busy taking care of me, right?

It's a lot of emotional labor to ask of one newly-made boyfriend, and I'm partial to equitability.

Hm.

A week's not so long to leave a heart (emoji) unattended.

Here. This one can keep it company.

❤️

But no touching either one until Tuesday!

If they're both still there on Tuesday, we'll sort out who gets which.

[...]

Thank you, Desmond.

[...]

For understanding.

[...]

For being you.

[...]

For being here, and home.

Until Tuesday. They will remain safe, untouched, together.

While I am at your side, and in your care.

[ ... ]

Thank you, Puppy.

That you should offer a heart's simulacrum to accompany my own, that you've joined me in this act and not left my heart to dangle in a vulnerable solitude—

What am I to do with you. How am I so lucky?

You've a candor, a clear-speaking veracity that few can match, and fewer still would dare. It does you credit.

You are a remarkable man. And my fortune is in knowing you— Or beginning to know you, with the chance of more to come.

I find that you get what you want out of people if you're clear with them. And with yourself.

What I want is you, and for that to last. If we can keep having what we did last night (and this morning) (and at lunch), I think all those forevers you keep dropping might be attainable.

Just have to make it past that one week mark.

[...]

You are in my care. I care for you; the rest is only natural.

[...]

Well. And I like seeing you happy.

There are times no amount of clarity will induce a person toward reason or accordance. I find a judicious bit of obfuscation can serve toward success—

But I am speaking, of course, of business.

Not of you. Not of anything to do with you.

You, Puppy, are all the inducement I need toward explicit honesty, and all the proof of both its issue and its worth. I have nothing for you that breaches beyond bounds of truth. I have no word that speaks apart from my soul, or from its wanting.

And you make me tremendously happy.

What I knew of happiness - or of its more startling coruscant kindred, joy - has come wholly in the knowledge of you— And in what you've called from me. I've known amusement, yes, and gratification. I've known wild vindication like a flash of teeth. But the warmth you give to me - this overwhelming lightness in my chest, my throat - is entirely new, a form of the divine.

For the record, I didn't say anything about reason or accordance. Just that you get what you want if you're clear with people.

You can be just as clear about consequences as you can about desires. 'If you don't park your gods-damned truck elsewhere, I will beat you within an inch of your life with a blunt object' would have been tremendously effective with someone else.

Possibly with me, had I wanted to avoid a conflict.

I might have been trying to antagonize you. I got the little love letters you kept leaving on my windshield.

[...]

It was a bad day u

I

Things

It wasn't about you. The antagonizing.

It was a bad day in a very - very - long string of bad days until that moment, to tell the truth. I think the universe might have been apologizing to me by putting me in your path.

[...]

I told you last night that you're my fortune; I was being clear and straightforward then, too.

I'm very glad I met you. I'd forgotten [...] how beautiful the world could be.

Or the people in it.

You.

Make no mistake, there: you are breathtaking.

What were we talking about? I got sidetracked with romantic daydreaming.

Mm. Veracity and clarity.

I generally don't lie. I don't have any compunctions about doing it, but I rarely see the point.

Funny how honesty gets you in far more trouble than a judicious bit of obfuscation, though.

My Puppy? Antagonistic? Never!

You and your fangs; how I do adore you. 😌

You and your fangs, your daydreams, your candor. The perfect Puppy package, indeed!

Regarding honesty, I doubt I need to tell you that this town thrives on soft-told lies and shrouded truths. Shine stark light upon their actions, and their sensibilities wither, shriek. Spew denial and spit rancor until the light is set aside.

It's a tool that has its place, certainly. And it's a quality these empty-addled clods could stand to cultivate. Though I doubt they'd wield or wear it half so well as you.

Also. You make a fair point: I find a clarity of threat efficacious in most instances.

You were a stubborn case. Flouting my notes, persistent in audacity. Standing your ground. Not an eye batted; not a nerve stammered. Your hand claiming hold of my cane.

Your grasp - your unceasing eyes - claiming hold of my cognition.

You were on my mind, Puppy, before you left your number.

My restless dreams the night before were haunted in amber.

[ … ]

I regret, my Puppy, that your day and days were so badly beset.

And I’ll count it as my honor to make amends for all the wretchedness they gave you. To keep the buzzards of malfortune forever from your door.

Oh, and! A supposition: Perhaps next time your truck plants itself before my shop, you’ll find a note of a new tone tucked against the windshield. 😌

Edited 2021-12-30 04:37 (UTC)

You should tell me all about your dreams when we get together tonight. I’m very interested in hearing what got you so restless, but kept you from texting me for seven hours.

Another point of interest:

Gave you a little thrill for lunch. Dropped a lot of money in your lap. Left you a heart to reflect on for a week. Promised to discuss wearing a collar for you.

If I could get you going with a little obscenity like that stunt with your cane, how are you holding up now?

Your adored and adoring Puppy is holding up well enough, but his boyfriend is a goddamned tease.

And also.

I know how lucky I am to have you, tease or not. I’d cherish any note you left on my windshield.

You are a complicated man. All the things people see.

A lot of bite, a lot smooth.

A lot of dork.

But you’re kind of a sweetheart, too, aren’t you?

Privately. Directed at me in exclusivity, probably.

Yeah. I adore you, too, Desmond. :)

~~Oh, Puppy. If you knew the first thing about my heart~~

The quality of my heart has been described at various turns as ‘dark,’ ‘cold,’ ‘hollow.’ ‘Rotten.’ ~~’Craven.’~~ ‘Vindictive.’ I won’t deny the breath of truth in that last depiction. I won’t pretend that any fly far off the mark. What I’ve known of myself has [ … ] largely been devoid of tenderness.

What, then, am I to do, when you claim ‘sweet,’ and I feel not a twinge of doubt?

What am I to do, when you say ‘sweet,’ and I feel its truth within myself?

It’s an effect of you, my Puppy. A long-dormant thing, this [ … ] tenderness, this truth I’ve been without inclination toward expression; a quality now crying to be known and to speak itself. It whispers, in texts, in little truck-tucked love notes.

It’s what sustains me in my dizziness; the world careens upon the thought of you, and it is sweetness that melts me pliant, turning brittleness to tensility. If I am buffeted each moment by this world turned new - buffeted wonderfully; this storm (composed of thrills, of a heart, of every glimpse from honeyed eyes) is warming and welcome - still I find my feet again, careen on every thought of you and find my anchor in your promise.

My adored, my adoring porvocateur: You may consider the dork and the sweetheart in me entirely your own, given life through your calling.

Puppy, Puppy; it was in part the ardor of my dreams that both kept my mind fixed on your number, and kept my wariness alert. No one had sparked my interest as you did, and do. And I am [ ... ] sensitive regarding any potential of my own exposed weakness.

It isn't a weakness in the least; I know that now. What have you been if not a cause for ardent strength?

I regret I didn't let that strength speak sooner. It would have been better, more to you deserving, to have messaged you just as soon as I discovered your note. I would rather I hadn't left you waiting. What's done is done, but just think what we might have shared across the hours of that day. (The positive side: That we have all the time we like now; that we may chase our hearts' content in sharing.)

I doubted my fortune; I doubted my feeling, and its reciprocation.

Never again, my brave, my beautiful Puppy. Never again will I doubt my feelings, or your own.

[...]

[...]

Damn it.

Sweet as you are, and as much as I want to carry on texting you, making up for all those missed hours of sharing, my 3:30 is here half an hour early. I'd ignore them, but they'll just stand around the stables and watch me. ~~Entitled pricks~~

I'm going to go find some busywork while I make them wait.

Don't worry. It'll leave me with a substantial buildup of longing. (That was the accomplishment of seven hours of waiting, as well: desperate desire for you.)

Bring your cold, dark, vindictive, rotten heart with you tonight. Bring all your ardor and adoration. I'll take all of it, because it all composes you, and you are the loveliest composition I've ever known.

I'll be waiting.

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