Fool's Love

3. Let Us Burn In Blue Flames

There is a nuclear bomb shelter in my backyard. A wooden fence forms a square around the small patch of grass we call ours. Near the back of the lot are two green doors that rest on the ground. The padlock and chain that keeps them closed have been removed and lie on the grass nearby. I walk over to my hideout, grab one of the door handles, and yank it open. It creaks before settling on the lawn. Its heaviness will supposedly keep the nuclear radiation off us.

The light is already on, so I find the ladder and a good foothold before pulling the door shut with a groan. Then, as my surroundings darken and the doors block the breeze from outside, I descend a narrow tunnel. Beneath the constricted opening, the room appears. It is roughly eight hundred feet squared, but it has everything we need to survive a nuclear war.

I jump off the ladder and land gracefully on the carpet.

A single bulb hangs from the ceiling, washing everything with its warm glow. The scent of chlorine still lingers in my nostrils. And my eyes, red from swimming, take a moment to survey my environs. There is a bunkbed pressed against the far wall. Filling two shelves on my left were canned produce that my mother and I would eat while we waited for the world to become safe again.

Xavier sits on the sofa, flipping through my collection of Spiderman comics. He rests his legs on the back of the couch while his back sinks into the cushioned seat, his head dangling over the edge.

I sit next to him. I'm conscious of the smooth way his muscles move as he flips over to sit upright. His heel brushes my leg as he settles. He's smiling now, wearing a pair of thick, black-framed glasses to fix his near-sightedness. A weakness he is careful not to share with anyone at school, but he has no trouble sharing with me. His fingers draw swirls on my neck and tug the wet hair drying near my nape. "How was the pool?"

"Empty. Cold."

"And your time?"

"A minute slower than last week."

He responds with a shrug that says, 'That's alright. Not everyone is meant to be an Olympian.'

He touches my lips, tracing their lines and shape as if he has forgotten them after this morning. He parts them to see my teeth, the same curious grin lighting his visage.

"What are you going to do if our parents say we are related?" I ask.

"We're already going to hell for being gay. I guess instead of burning in orange fire, Lucifer will raise the intensity and burn us in blue." Xavier breathes on my lips, sending a tickle down my spine. My penis strains against the tight material of my jeans as Xavier gets on top of my lap and straddles my thighs between his knees. He kisses me, forcing his tongue into my mouth, while his hand slides under my shirt and rubs my belly.

When we part, his breath warms my skin as he says, "So, how are we going to kill you?"

"I haven't given it much thought."

"I'm thinking after finding out my father cheated on my mother. In a fit of rage, I'll slit your neck." His thumb draws a line across my throat. "Or...." Xavier pushes his hand under my shirt and lifts it up to reveal my chest. He pokes my left breast. "I could stab you in the heart."

"Whichever you want."

He smiles against my ear, so I can feel his lips twitch as he murmurs, "Good."

We are interrupted by the sound of the backdoor opening; his father and my mother are talking on the way to our hideout. They stand by the entrance but don't bother to enter. My mother says, "Dinner is ready, boys."

"Be there in a minute or so," Xavier answers.

***

The earl sits at my dinner table. He and I do share a resemblance. Same orange hair and raised cheekbones, blue eyes. His face is older, the skin less tight, and losing some of its youthful glow. My shoulders are almost as broad as his, but he manages to remain taller than me. I have been looking up at him since shortly after I was born.