1/2/2012

truss

(truhs)

1. to tie, bind, or fasten.

2. to make fast with skewers, thread, or the like, as the wingsor legs of a fowl in preparation for cooking.

3. to furnish or support with a truss or trusses.

4. to tie or secure (the body) closely or tightly; bind (oftenfollowed by up ).

5. Falconry . (of a hawk, falcon, etc.) to grasp (prey) firmly.

They had been tied together since the first moment they locked eyes. It was a mistake. They could do nothing about it. They needed each other. Like they needed air. Now and forever and every moment in between. They held hands sometimes, when no one cared to look. If anything got out of hand, they said the word 'friends'. People seemed to buy that. They seemed to buy that. But it was all just one great, big lie. It stood like a tiger stalking its prey, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce out of hiding.

Dean liked to stare at the contrast between his skin and Sea's. It was perfect. He dreamt about it sometimes. And Seamus cared too; he was just too afraid to admit it. But they were tied.

Dean liked to pretend that Shay didn't sleep with other boys since their fifth year. If he ignored it hard enough, it would disappear. Everything always seemed to anyways. But it hurt him so much. He hated it. He knew Shay couldn't ever want him the way he wanted him. He was imperfect. He was ugly. He was a mutant. He wasn't good enough. He should've known better. They were still tied. They'd always be.

The tears never seemed to come to Sea. His eyes appeared to have been dried out completely from the start. They must've lost their ability to cry. Perhaps it was a good sign. Perhaps it meant he no longer cared. Oh, how wrong he was.

They were tied.

Everyone seemed to see it. Everyone seemed to know, but them. It was there. They could feel it. It was at the tips of Dean's blistered fingers. It covered Sea's pale flesh. It trickled, flowed, and tangled all over their arses and cocks and bed sheets. It felt good. And, if they pressed it together long enough, the pleasure would never end. And what was it anyways?

It was everything. It was nothing. It was the string that tied them together. Invisible. Invincible. Indestructible. Everlasting. Permanent. Even though it was permanent, it seemed to fade away at the edges and at the middle too, if you rubbed it hard enough. Even though it was everlasting, the flavor seemed to disappear all together all at once. Stride lies too sometimes. Even if it was indestructible, it could be destroyed if they tried hard enough. (Lie!) Even though it was invincible, it must've come apart at some point too, like the weak bonds between overused Lego blocks. Even though it was invisible, it had a translucent violet colour at times. And it made a sound. Like that of a lost puppy or a creaking hammock because no one can tell the difference.

Perhaps they could someday hear or see or taste it like everyone else does.