Inescapable History, Inescapable Fates

The hook

Another series of poetry-based chapters. I would recommend reading the poems out loud and playing pretentious literary reference bingo while you read. The poems cited are:

- You fit into me, Margaret Atwood
- The Lesson, Maya Angelou
-Explico Algunas Cosas (I'm Explaining a Few Things), Pablo Neruda
- Donador, Juan Ramón Jiménez
- Ri ja', ri q'aq' (Water and Fire), Humberto Ak'abal

In summary, I apologize and enjoy?

you fit into me

like a hook into an eye

a fish hook

an open eye

Margaret Atwood

Henry carefully unzipped Alex's pants and got to work carefully at first, just shy licks at the tip, his hand tight around the base. Alex was gripping his hair so tight Henry worried he would pull it out. He quickened his pace until Alex was gasping and cumming in his mouth. Henry swallowed, careful not to spit any out onto the glass.

The capsule shook as Alex dropped to his knees, so they were face to face, and made out with him. All of London quavered below them. Alex hadn't even pulled his boxers up.

ALEX POV

It was so good. Alex hadn't really decided yet how far he wanted it to go, wasn't sure if he actually wanted this. But god, he was glad they did. He wondered if he kissed Henry hard enough, Henry would feel his thankfulness burning in his gut.

Alex always listened to his gut, and even if Henry was his enemy, his gut was saying yes. So it was good. This was good. This made him feel better then anything else.

And then...

And then they cleaned up and got off the ride. No policemen were waiting, so Alex figured they had gotten away with a blow job on the London Eye.

And then...

Henry said something that made Alex laugh. Alex turned around and shoved him into a newsstand. The man selling newspapers grumbled.

And then...

And then, Alex caught sight of the headline. He read it. "Divisive Former President of Peru May Have Pardon Revoked." Alex grabbed a newspaper without paying for it and began to read.

Henry POV

Hot and cold. They were laughing and then Alex was stealing a newspaper. His hands were shaking. He looked angry, like dark clouds had suddenly taken his expression hostage. Henry gave the newspaper seller two euros.

"Alex, what's up?" He asked, tone light. "Alex?"

Suddenly, Alex ripped the paper in half, the sudden movement startling Henry. He threw it out, "I want to leave now."

Alex was glaring at Henry like he was the enemy. Because he was the enemy. Because he would always just be the enemy.

"Alex?" Henry asked again, frozen.

"We can't do this. Do you understand?" Alex whirled on Henry and Henry thought he was going to have to dodge a punch, but Alex began to cry instead. "I hate you." No, you don't. Henry thought. Because if it was hate, you would have punched me like you punched Hunter. "I hate you." Henry stepped forward, one step, but it felt like jumping a chasm. No, you don't. "I hate you." Alex let his head fall forward against Henry's shoulder. Henry's fingers carded through his curls, hot even in cool October air. You are angry, more angry than I can understand, but anger is not hate. "Do you understand?" Henry believed it was not hate, his hand pulling Alex impossibly closer as he sobbed, "I don't, I don't, I don't,"

"Don't what?" Henry asked.

Alex laughed into his shirt, a rough, crazed chortle. "Understand. Anything."