Tor sat on his windowsill, the window open, one leg out, quietly tuning Cecelia, his guitar. She was an acoustic Gibson with antique finished brich top, rosewood sides, and a gorgeous vine inlay on the neck. He leaned his head against the wall, his eyes closed as he picked the strings, playing each note in an appegio. His fingers tickled the taut wires, his left calloused hand holding down the strings on the neck to acquire the proper tones.

Below him, he heard the crunching of feet on gravel. He peeked out over the roof and waved down at the man standing there. Tall, handsome, and blonde, Alexander waved back. He looked around, circumspect, and then gazed back up at the window.

Tor cracked a wide grin. "They're not home," he said with a nonchalant tone. "Nice to see you, too, Sandy," he said at the older man's obvious relief.

"Don't expect me to start climbing things to get you to come out," Sandy said sternly.

Tor set Cecelia in her case and snapped her in tight. He pulled a cigarette from his coat, which was lying inside the window and held it tightly between his lips. "Don't be silly," he said with the same nonchalant tone. He struck a match and cupped it in his hands. "I don't have enough hair for you to be climbing up here, and the trellis I wouldn't trust if my life depended on it."

He laughed quietly as he watched Sandy cradle his forehead down on the ground below him. Lazily, Tor took a drag of his cigarette and leaned against the window. "Ready to go?" he asked, staring up at the solid blue sky, blowing smoke rings quietly into the still air.

The hair on the back of his neck bristled then, just for a moment. An inconsistant, jarring feeling came over him, and he was only vaguely aware of Sandy calling back "Anytime." He glanced back inside his room. Nothing was out of place.

He brushed his hand over the silver cross around his neck and tucked it in his shirt. Then, he set his hand over his deck of tarot in his coat pocket.

"Tor?" Sandy called from below him.

"Anytime?" Tor asked back, tossing a light duffel bag out the window and then off the roof.

Sandy watched it land. "You pack light, every time," he said critically.

Tor brushed his nails against his tee-shirt and gazed at them in a haughty and appraising manner. "Next time, dahling," he drawled, "I'll have James pack the whole armoire, shall I?" He glanced down with a wicked grin. "Come on, man," he said in a teasing tone. "It's not like I need a million clothes for a couple days."

"Something might come up."

"The cabin has a washing machine. I think I can handle laundry." Tor grabbed his coat, a long navy wool number with a thousand little pockets. In them, he kept his cigarettes, his matches, and his tarot, as well as any keys or anything else he might be needing. He shrugged it on and took Cecelia through the window with excessive care.

Then, he taped a note on the inside of the window that said "Out. Back in a few days," and closed it. His mother would probably have a stroke if she found it. Tor was counting on his father being home first.

Then, with sure footing, tor walked across the shingled roof and over the porch. He stood at the very edge, not shaken in the least. "You sure you don't want to come up?" he asked, still grinning impishly.

"Come on, Tor," Sandy said, being the responsible one. "You're going to kill yourself pulling stunts like this one day."

"Live hard, die young," Tor teased back.

Sandy gave him a stern look.

Laughing to himself, Tor sat at the edge and passed Cecelia down to Sandy. Then, he swung himself down the porch supports and onto the railing below him. He flicked the ash off his cigarette and gave Sandy a kiss on the cheek.

Sandy smiled at him warmly. "Ready to go?" he asked.

"Anytime, anywhere, just name it, point me in the right direction," Tor purred.

Sandy pointed to the end of the driveway, which snaked around a copse of pine trees. "Now," he said, raising his eyebrows.

Tor beamed. "You're so bossy!" he teased and started walking.

"It's just because you're so submissive!" Sandy called out after him, teasing back.

"Yes massah, yes massah."

Sandy laughed and swatted him lightly on the arm.

Tor threw an arm around Sandy's neck and kissed him. "Missed you," he said as Sandy's car, a new fire engine red Gibbons FV-9000, came into view.

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder, love."

Tor stopped walking and closed his eyes, smiling quietly to himself. He crushed his cigarette beneath the heel of his sandal and took a deep breath in through his nose. His lungs burned with the fresh air, and he let it out slowly.

"Any time you're done tasting your freedom, Nature Boy," Sandy called from the car, where he tossed Tor's bag in the trunk with his things.

Tor put Cecelia in the back seat gently. Then, he took his seat in the passenger's side and strapped himself in. Sandy started the car and shifted it into reverse. He backed out onto the road and shifted into drive.

As they drove, Tor tuned the radio to the nearest station and leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

"One day, Alexander," he said, "we're going to have to stop meeting like this."

"You don't enjoy it?" Sandy asked, glancing over at Tor for just a moment.

"Works just a little on my conscious, you see." He stretched his arms out behind his head and sank down into the seat a little before peeking out an eye to look at Sandy. "The boy the parents would never approve of... The charming love in my life... The atheist who drives me up the wall ... And the man twice my age at least, aren't you?"

"But I don't look a day over twenty-seven." Sandy grinned at the windshield and got onto the highway.

"Still, I wish there was some way my folks would conceiveably like you. I think they'd enjoy you if they just got to know you."

"Okay, let's review. Issue one: Your mother is an insanely old-school Catholic, and ergo does not believe that gay is okay with the clergy, even if they say it is. Issue two: Your dad is a cop; your boyfriend is a fence for a major family. Issue three: You are going to die, and I am not."

"That last one makes you sound like a vampire."

"I only want your soul, dahling," Sandy drawled.

Tor laughed and turned up the radio. Arms folded behind his head, he sang along to it, shouting into the wind. He could lose himself in music, easily. The bass, the treble, the rush, the lyrics, the rythm...

Commercials came on, and Tor sang over them.

Sandy laughed at him.

Tor opened his eyes to see the highway wide open. He put his hand out where the window would have been had the top been up. He coasted it on the wind, surfing the breeze, catching it like a kite, then swooping his hand down, cutting through the air.

"I'm glad you're in such a good mood," Sandy said out of the blue.

"It helps to have good company," Tor admitted, watching his hand.

"Yeah, but you're really up today. Sometimes you just get really moody. I worry about you."

"And I'm sorry. I love you for it. Sometimes it's just hard."

He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it, letting it hang loosely in his hand outisde the car. There was something about being on the road with the man he loved that made him very mellow, very happy.

It won't last, a whispering hiss of a Voice told him in the back of his head.

Tor bit the inside of his cheek. That Voice was usually right about things. He glanced carefully at Sandy and took a drag of his cigarette.

Sandy glanced over at him. "I can feel you watching me, you know. It's creepy. What's on your mind?"

"What's the matter? Can't read my mind?"

"I should ask you the same thing. You're the psychic."

Tor let out a breath of smoke. He turned to watch the scenery.

"You won't keep me when I'm old," he told the walls of rock.

"I can't hear you. If you're going to talk to the grass, let me roll the windows up so I can eavesdrop."

Tor turned down the music and leaned over the door, letting his arm hang towards the ground. "Not important," he said over the wind and forced a smile.

"You are so damned moody."

"Once upon a time, you would have called it 'mysterious'."

"Once upon a time I would have been half off my rocker."

"Heh."

"But then. I've gotta be to love you."

Tor took another drag of his cigarette and then tossed it onto the road. "I hear there's such a thing as 'temporary insanity'. I'm just waiting for yours to end."

Sandy laughed. "Is that what the problem is?" he asked.

"Come on, Sandy. Think about it. I'm going to die, and you're not. I'm going to grow old, and you're not. And I guarentee you I won't do it gracefully. I'll drive you crazy enough to leave me one of these days."

"Not happening," Sandy said. "People leave each other all the time, but not this people. Not until you tell me it's over. You matter to me, Tor. I don't want to hurt you."

"Why Alexander. I didn't know you had a nice bone in your body." Tor affected obviously faked surprise.

Sandy whacked him lightly with the back of his hand. "Quiet, or you'll wake up with a horse's head sleeping next to you."

"That hits a bit close to home, my dearest Oberon," Tor teased in falsetto, "for I dreamed I was enamored of an ass."

"Huh. Here I thought you liked me for my personality."

"Two for the price of one, darling, that's all."

"Nice save."

"I do specialize in them." Tor winked and grinned impishly.

Sandy smiled warmly. "So what're your plans for the weekend? Anything you really want to do?"

"I really want to do?" Tor parroted, staring up at the sky to think. "Well, um. Maybe spend some quiet time getting some work done."

"What work? You barely have a job as it is."

"Hey, a factory is a real place of work. Just because I don't have 'Doctor of Robotic Sciences' after my name doesn't mean it's not."

"Didn't know janatorial work inspired such pride, Tor."

"Lay off. It pays."

"You still live with your parents."

"But I have a Gibson."

"Which cost about a year's rent. Good job."

"Thanks." Tor grinned. It had been his goal to own a Gibson, and Cecelia was everything he had wanted. The next step was moving out of town. That meant he had to find a job outside of town, get a car, or even a bicycle, and then find an apartment outside of town.

Oh well. Given time, it will happen.

You're making a mistake in trusting him, Giuseppe, the little Voice said.

"How long to the cabin?" Tor asked, yawning.

"Couple hours. It's going to be uneventful. Why don't you take a nap?" Sandy replied.

"I was just about to ask if you'd mind," Tor laughed.

"Not at all, love." Sandy patted Tor's leg lightly and then returned his hand to the stick.

Tor smiled and closed his eyes.

It won't last, GIuseppe.

-Nothing gold can stay, is that it?-

You'd be surprised. But you've been warned.

Tor curled himself as foldably as he could in the seat of the convertible and ignored the rest of what the little Voice wanted to say to him. He took a nap, instead.