Unrequited, VI

He could feel himself floating, the road flowing beneath him.

Time seemed to stand still.

Birds paused mid-flight. Traffic stopped. Silence filled the realm.

Leila was saying something, but the view was too beautiful to be ruined with speech.

Declan remembered that last ride he and Moira took down this road.

They ate some Chinese that night, and Moira begged to take a ride. No helmet, she begged. I want to feel the wind in my hair, she purred. Declan didn't need a second opinion. The warm air embraced their bodies as they sped down the road, making bike weave through the various beaters and high end Beemers. The two bodies shifted together, a carnal waltz making the ride that much more fulfilling.

As per their usual cat-and-mouse game of lust, Moira liked to nibble on his ear as Declan went through the gears. She giggled when he would miss a shift, then would squeeze him closer almost apologetically.

The last thing he saw was gentle waters of the river.

Unrequited, V

The drive down 290 went quickly, blending into I-35 without much pause.

The song blared in his helmet, wailing guitars, and the vocals detailing all the troubled him now.

"...Soft lips are open, knuckles are pale..." as Declan shifted, hit the throttle, and the engine whined with anticipation.

Immediately, his phone began to ring. Damn, though Declan, she's gonna stop me.

"Yes?"

"Dec, what are you doing?"

"C'mon...you wanted to go for a ride, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but you're going like 85 right now! Slow down!"

"Sorry...you know what today is right?" And with that, he hung up on here on the song resumed.

"...Feels like you're dying...You're dying...You...Your sex is like fire..."

The marker would soon be within sight.

Unrequited, IV

The lo mein was good, but the moo shu was better. He drained the hot and sour soup from the styrofoam container, then found Leila staring at him.

"C'mon...Let's go for a ride. You need to get out for a bit and..."

"No, Leila, I can't. I just...", interrupted Declan.

"Just what? Sit here and rot? It's been a year, Dec. It wasn't anyone's fault. Everyone has moved on. Toshi, James, Juan...even Kim. You keep wanting to blame yourself, but..."

"But what?" retorted Declan. He stared at Leila. He didn't want to pick a fight, but sometimes it was just easier.

"Okay, let's go."

"What?" exclaimed Leila.

"Now, on the bikes" teased Declan. I hope this works, he quickly planned through his mind.

The whine of the Ducati beconed Leila, and the resulting burnout only hinted at the burn that was to come.

Unrequited, III

The whine of a Ducati is unmistakeable. Declan lived is a nice little neighborhood in South Austin, but what was perhaps the nicest was all the little curves and undulating hills here and there. He didn't condone reckless driving, but the course to his house from pretty much anything more than a quarter mile away was a thrilling drive.

The 696 shifted, increasing intensity. Leila was almost there, with the Chinese. His stomach growled in anticipation.

He sat next to the window, antipating Leila's route. If you looked to the west, you could see, through a patch in the limbs, the road that could lead you to Declan's house. He saw the blur of red flash through, followed by the slight pause of noise, then its eager return.

Declan's eyes were drawn to a photograph on his grandmother's antique shelf. In it, you could see Declan and Leila, wearing graduation gowns sitting astride matching red Ducati 696's. A present for our four years of hard work, Leila justified. Declan didn't need much justification; he remembered his Japanese classmates bragging about their brothers and sisters rides. The loud and gaudy paint jobs on the motorcycles always caught his eyes. Declan can always remember the day that Ren, Takumi's older brother, offered him a ride on his Suzuki Hayabusa. Money be damned, Declan didn't care that this dragon with two wheels was either stolen or paid with illicit money. The 500 horsepower beast catpured Declan into the realm of two-wheeled freedom.

Before he could realize it, Declan's typical stoicism had broken into the half-smile of old. The whine of the motorcycle faded into the whiteness of background noise, until it's abrupt absence startled Declan; Leila was here.

Unrequited, II

The flashing cursor blindly urged him to type something, but nothing was coming to Declan. At least, nothing that the recipient would understand.

He shook his head absently, picked up the iPhone and quickly responded to Leila:

Bring Chinese tonight. Lo Mein, not Chow. XXOO.

Any bystander would think that Declan was taking to his girlfriend, but Leila was a very lovely and faithful girl friend. You guys are...Pluto-nomic, is what Aunt Caitlin would say. Pretty much everyone got the gist.

As he hit send, Declan's finger brushed up against the scar along his thumb. He set the phone down and traced the scar, following it down to nearly his elbow. Declan lost count after the the cast came off how many times people queried about it. The running joke was a cat did this to him. It wasn't a lie; it was a bitter truth that Declan could not forget.

He could feel the wind whipping through his reddish locks, the arms wrapped around him, the warmth of another pressed upon his cheek, a whisper...

The keyboard suddenly leapt simultaneously along with the vintage wooden chair. It's antique hinges and springs creaked in protest, the seat swiveling round and round, no longer hindered by a seated person.

Unrequited

We accept the love we think we deserve.

Declan couldn't comprehend it for a moment. For much of his life, he had been alone. Declan's parents died in the infamous Trade Center attacks, when the second tower collapsed. He left New York to live with his next of kin in what seemed like a backwoods cesspool called Austin.

Now that he'd graduated, his plans weren't quite as clear. Declan forgot for the moment that things really were never that clear. The words remained constantly burned on the monitor as he finished up a few internet postings.

He felt the buzz in his pocket. Declan tugged out the iPhone and gave it a quick tap. Moira again, thought Declan. He loved her like a sister, because that's pretty much who she was. She lived on the ranch across the road from Uncle Finn and Aunt Caitlin. They'd taken many a rides on horseback on those late summer evenings. Declan even helped her father with hauling hay as it was. Moira was the first friendly face that he connected with, but that quickly evolved into something more.

Movie was good, dinner sucked. TTYL! I<3u

But for now, those words on the screen brought back the image of Leila. The vacuum once again clenched its iron fists around his heart.