Flash Fiction May #3
Happy Friday! TGIF huh? *sips coffee* You ready to get flashed? This pic was chosen by Havan...and I have to say... oohh whee I wouldn't mind seeing that in my kitchen!
Flash Fiction May #3
The neat kitchen startled Brant. Vince had never been neat. “How do you live like this?” He rubbed the back of his neck and contemplated the man sleeping in the outer room. Vince Mayburn, soap star, best friend… and as of last night, lover. The changes in Vince - a man he’d known since kindergarten where they bonded over reading while their classmates sounded out their ABC’s- shocked him.
Throughout childhood, intelligence isolated them. It intimidated classmates and teachers, which was okay with Brant. He didn’t need people when he had numbers.
Vince was different. A deep need to be loved made him turn his back on numbers, languages and logic.
“This is the result of trying to be someone you’re not.” Brant scowled at empty shelves. His stomach grumbled. “Lose thirty pounds and America loves you but fuck it all!”
“There’s no food.” Brant twisted to face Vince. The thoughts milling around in his head for once had nothing to do with numbers. Vince was beautiful, his bushy brows plucked to defined lines, stubbled jaw, hair… Brant mourned the loss of the shoulder length locks even as he appreciated how the short cut emphasized a jawline no longer hidden in baby fat. The Vince he’d loved was still there, in the green eyes and plump lips.
“There’s food.” Vince pecked him on the lips. “Just not premade and loaded with sugar and preservatives.” He pulled on an apron. “Take a shower. I’ll make pancakes and bacon. How’s that sound?”
Chewing his lip, Brant wavered. He wasn’t really mad about food. it was so much more than that.
“Okay.” He muttered resentfully, as Vince went about the business of cooking. “But--”
“While you eat, we can talk about what’s bothering you.”
“How can you do this?”
“This?” Vince’s smile faded. “You mean, act? Lose weight? Dress nicely and live in a place that doesn’t resemble my parents’ basement?” He slammed a skillet down. “I love this life, Brant. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”
“You’re wasting your gifts... your brain.” The words tumbled out in a damning cascade. Brant cringed. “You could put men on Mars or discover the cure for cancer. Instead…” He sputtered to a halt.
“’I play a businessman with a dark streak on a daytime soap. It’s a challenge. I’m up for renewal, a raise and probably twice the airtime next season.”
“So the adoration of strangers means more to you than--”
He broke off, shocked.
“You?” Vince shook his head, lips twisting in an emotionless smile. “No.”
“I loved who you used to be.”
“Who? The man who couldn’t be himself because his own body… his own timidity kept him from living life?”
“My friend…” Brant choked. “I loved the boy I grew up with, the one who understood me.”
“That’s still me, just not all of me. I’m not just a brain… ” Vince wiped at his cheeks. “I want you to love me, the real me, just like I love the real you.”