Blessed...

"Giuseppe Salvatore Pulvinus! Get in here this instant!" Tor's mother screams from the doorway. She's been baking again, he notices. She always bakes when she's stressed about something.

"I'll see you soon, Sandy," Tor whispers to the breezes before tipping the cabbie, slinging Cecilia over his back, and making his way steadily to his home.

"Young man! You have a lot of explaining to do!"

"Oh yeah?" Tor asks with typical teenager disregard, something he's kept strictly for such situations over the past few years. He does not stop, but rather slips passed his mother and starts ascending the stairs. "That's nice."

"Salvatore," Tor's father's quiet-but-strong voice cautions as he appears at the top of the stairs. Tor is almost thankful that his father doesn't call him Giuseppe. Almost.

Tor pauses in the middle of the stairs, cornered by his parents. He closes his eyes and exhales deeply. "Gee, guys. You caught me," he remarks, not lacking sarcastic and cynical overtones. He keeps his eyes closed while he rolls them and then opens them, glaring at his father's feet. "Now enlighten me: what do you want?" He does not want to deal with this. Not today.

"Salvato-" his father begins but is cut off by his mother screeching "Just where were you all weekend!? You missed church! I'll bet you were with that atheist! He's a bad seed! A baaaad seed! He'll put all sorts of thoughts in your head, Giuseppe! I forbid you to spend any more time with him! ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME, GIUSEPPE!"

Not really, Tor thinks to himself. "So, Dad. Nice day, innit?" he asks, walking quietly up the steps.

"Salvatore. Listen to your mother."

Tor's dark brown eyes whip up with such ferocity that his father almost takes a startled step backwards. Almost. Tor can see him hesitate before regaining his usual calm. Through gritted teeth, Tor replies, "If you don't let me through..."

"Salvatore, I really think y-"

Tor takes a deep breath and continues his steady pace up the stairs, brushing passed his father, ignoring his mother's screeching, trying not to look in his father's astonished eyes. Tor and Cecilia make it contemplatively to his room where he sets her on his bed and lights candles and incense, closes the windows, and pulls out his tarot deck. He draws the curtains and sits, cross-legged, on the floor.

Closing his eyes, Tor takes a deep breath and almost instantly regrets it. A swarm of visions of Sandy's bloody death swamps his vision. He exhales in a spasm and his body jolts forwards, sweat beading on his forehead as his left hand - which was holding his deck - flies out to catch his falling body, sending the seventy-eight cards sliding across the room. He chokes back a sob before collecting himself and hugging his knees, letting the cards lay where they fall, the closest ones to him being the Tower, Death, the Ten of Swords, and the Ace of Swords.

Shaking in the almost-darkness, Tor cries into his knees, keeping his eyes open and yet hiding them from the light to avoid the visions that have been his curse for sixteen years. They always seem to be of death and dying, of tragedy and tears. Never once can he channel a positive vision.

His heart begins to thunder in his chest, echoing loudly in his ears, his chest jumping from its pulsating rhythm. He misses Sandy already, even when he is still alive. He swallows hard and closes his eyes, seeing Sandy's bloody body, flayed and torn, thrown at his feet to stare up at him with vacant brown eyes.

He opens his eyes suddenly and hurries to compose himself. "Come in," he gasps.

The door opens, and his father stands there, his hand poised to knock. Had he imagined the sound, then, or were his predictions becoming more and more accute as the days went on? Were they going to become so vivid and realistic that he would be able to see everything moments before it actually happened until Sandy's death? He hoped not.

"Salvatore," his father says, stepping in, careful not to walk on Tor's precious deck, while shutting the door behind him, "we need to talk."

"I don't... have anything to say..." Tor replies hesitantly, dropping his knees and setting about gathering his cards into a pile.

"You're not yourself. What happened?"

"Nothing," Tor replies with an overabundance of crispness that startles even himself. "I mean... Nothing," he repeats with a softer tone.

"Don't lie to me, Salvatore," his father chides in Italian. "Tell me the truth."

Tor looks up and then looks down again. "Dad," he begins, but he can say no more.

"What?" his father asks after a spell.

"I'm... I mean I... Did I ever tell you I'm bisexual?" he asked with sudden candor.

"Umm... No..."

"Oh good. Won't you sit down, then?" he asks, rising and setting Cecilia on his floor before plopping down on the bed and patting next to him.

His father tentatively perches on the bed, staring at his son with wide eyes. "Wha- What do you mean, 'bisexual?'"

"I... date girls and guys," Tor supplies.

His father seems to mull this over for a bit, shifting uncomfortably all the while. "Why are you telling me this?" he finally manages.

"You mean besides because it's true?"

"Well, yes, of course besides that. We didn't raise you to lie."

Tor pauses. He stares at his hands, and he notices how sweaty and almost blue they are. Is he that nervous? If he tells his father about Sandy, God knows what will happen. If he doesn't... the same. Yes, he thinks, they didn't raise me to lie. Tell him. Do it.

"Well?"

Tor looks up with his deep brown eyes. "Have I ever mentioned Sa -- err -- Alexander?" he tries, forcing positivity into his voice.

"Umm... No..."

"Sandy -- erm -- yeah, well he's my ... uh... boyfriend."

"Really?" Oddly, his father seems happy enough.

"You're not... mad?"

"No! No, of course not!" He smiles.

"Will you be mad if I tell you his full name is Alexander Mathers?"

Tor's father's face goes slack with what Tor can only register as shock before his countenance brightens again and he shrugs - he shrugs. "I suppose. Though I must say it's about time that old boy settled down. 'T'll take a bit of getting used to, but don't you even think about telling your mother. She'll go on a bloody rampage for his balls at the very least."

Tor nods absently in reply. He had figured as such already. "Dad?"

"Yes, son?"

"Stop reading Dickens. You start getting really scary when you do."

His father grins. "Alright, but tell me one thing before I give you my blessing."

"What's that?"

"Do you love him?"

Tor looks at his father, shocked. What did he think? This was some meaningless fling?

"Or is it just another one of your meaningless flings?"

In his father's defense, Tor did tend to have a lot of them. "I... I do love him," Tor replies with mild conviction.

"Good! Wonderful!" Tor's father exclaims, throwing his arms about his son's frame and squeezing him in an embrace.

Tor finds his arms pinned so they wrap around his father. After a moment, he coughs and pats his father's back. "Right... Dad... Love you... too... Can't... breathe..."

"Oh. Sorry." His father lets him go, and Tor coughs and wheezes until he can almost breathe easily again.

Now seems like a nice time to end this mindless conversation. "Well, nice talkin' to you, Dad. We'll do it again sometime."

"Neh. There's still something on your mind. You didn't tell me that just to humor me."

Damn, Tor thinks, he's on to me. Tor looks away and forces a laugh.

"What's troubling you really, Salvatore?"

Tor feels his father's hand fall lightly on his shoulder. To feel the love in that one touch is enough to send Tor into silent tears. Without a word, without a sound, the tears cascade from his eyes to land in small pools on his bedspread. "S-Sandy... He's been hurt..." he announces, clenching his fists. He sniffles and closes his eyes, only to be greeted by the numerous visions of Sandy's dead body, mangled beyond recognition, yet recognizable only to him. He fights the vision and forces himself to stare at the back of his eyelids. "And now..." he breathes. "Now I'm afraid he's going to die..."

"Why do you think that way?"

"I have... visions..."

"Visions?"

"I see things before they happen. For sixteen years I have." He swallows hard. "Never once are they better than death and downfall."

"I think this is out of my league, Salvatore."

Tor looks up with sudden fear. "But Sandy-"

"The hospital will take care of him just fine." His father hugs Tor around his shoulders and kisses his forehead. "They don't know who he is just yet."

Tor sniffles again. "How did you know he was in the hospital?"

"You're not the only one in the family who has visions, Salvatore," he replies kindly.

Tor looks up at his father, distraught and eager simultaneously. "Really?"

His father grins. "No. It was in the paper. You two were the only survivors." He rises and nods to his son. "You two will make it." He opens the door to leave Tor's room.

"Dad?" Tor asks tentatively.

"Yes, Son?"

"Why don't you mind that I'm dating your arch-rival?"

A wry smile lights on his father's face. "Do you know how pissed off your mother will be when she finds out?" he asks, a twinkle in his eyes.

"Dad!" Tor laughs and throws a pillow towards him as the door closes, leaving Tor alone again in the candle-lit darkness. Amazingly feeling better, he actually smiles and lays down, staring up at the ceiling, his hands behind his head.

'You two were the only survivors,' his father had said. So Cliff, the Suits, and everyone else... They were really dead. But Sandy was alive. That was the important thing.

He closes his eyes, and the visions come again. Yes, Sandy is alive -- but for how much longer?

"I can't believe you're wearing black, Giuseppe! You look like you're going to a funeral!" Tor's mother exclaims as they siddle into a pew in the massive cathedral.

"Not a problem," Tor replies, and he takes off his tie, unbuttons his jacket, stuffs the tie in an inner pocket, and undoes the top three buttons of his shirt. Meanwhile, his mother is sitting there, twitching in aggrivation, her jaw slack and her face agog.

"Put that back on!" she hisses.

Tor meticulously sets about reading through an announcement bulletein. "Oh! Look! Maria Sophia and Joey Ventrella had twins!" he remarks, turning to his mother and, upon deciding she is likely to start yelling soon, looking passed her to his father. "Isn't that great, Dad?"

"Absolutely!" his father remarks, smiling and nodding.

Tor's mother grabs his father's arm and yanks on it. "Make him put his tie back on!"

"He looks fine. God knows who we are - with or without the fancy clothes."

"Here, here!" Tor adds, returning to the bulletein.

"Hush, Giuseppe!" his mother chides before returning her own attention to his father.

"Oh, great!" Tor interrupts the pair's quiet quarreling.

"What now?" his mother demands.

"I mean... darn..." Tor tries to recover in vain.

His mother narrows her eyes. "What is it?"

"Umm... Cardinal Pe--"

"Are you wearing earrings?" she demands, grabbing his jaw and whipping his head around to look at his ears.

"Mresh," Tor replies dryly, wishing she would take her hand off his face.

"What are you wearing earrings for? Someone will think you're" - and here she drops her voice to a whisper - "homosexual."

Gee, go figure, Tor thinks, but he doesn't say anything.

"You know, dear, the Church finally accepted homosexuals about a hundred years ago," Tor's father announces, coming to his son's aid.

"That doesn't make it right."

Tor and his father stare at her as if she had begun to speak in Tongues. Tor inwardly admits that he never thought he'd see the day she disagreed openly with a Church decree.

The three were mostly silent for the next few hours. The priest took his most venerated old time getting to the point of the sermon, which was a reading of Matthew 5:1 through 5:12 -- The Beatitudes.

Tor listens with vague inattentiveness. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blah blah. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blah blah. Blessed --

"Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit." A rhaspy, cold, lingering voice butchers the opening line of the Simon and Garfunkel tune 'Blessed.'

Tor's eyes open, but no one else seems to have heard it. It must have been his imagination, he resolves. The priest mentions Christ, and the voice rises again.

"Blessed is the lamb whose blood flow-ow-ows," it sings with an obvious non-corporeal smirk.

What's going on, Tor wonders.

The voice lets out a low cackle. "Why hello, Giuseppe. It's so good of you to finally notice me." It chuckles again, cruelly. "It's been so long since you've even wanted to talk to me."

Tor opens his mouth to say something, but the voice stops him. "She'll suspect something, you know. You need only speak your mind to me via your mind."

Great, Tor groans inwardly. I'm going schizo.

"Quite contrary, Guiseppe. I'm not at all a schizophrenic projection of the Id. Nor am I a manifestation of another personality. I merely am."

Okay, well who am you? Tor wants to know.

"I am you. I am me. I am everyone, and I am no one. Mark this, though: I am the best and only true friend you will ever have."

That explains so much. Nice chatting. You may go now.

"No, no. You may go now; the service is over very soon."

Tor glances at his watch. Ten minutes remain in the service. How did the time pass so quickly? He wonders what the voice knows.

"Blessed are the sat upon, spat upon, raaaaatted on. Oh Lord! Why have you forsaken me?" is the only reply he receives.

"Just let me through!" Tor demands, pushing passed the nurses and trying to get to the door to Sandy's room in the hospital.

"Sir! You can't go in there! Sir! Stop!"

"He's my lover, damnit! If you want to stand in my way, then to Hell with you!"

"But, Sir-!"

Tor promptly grasps the door handle, flings it open, shuts it fast, and barricades it by lodging a chair beneath its handle. He glances around the room to see Sandy sitting in a chair, facing out the window.

"Do you always have to make such a huge commotion, Tor?" Sandy asks, a smile in his voice.

Tor lets out a light sigh before crossing the room and throwing his arms around his lover's neck. "Mmmm... I miss you. When're you coming home?"

"Always cutting to the chase, too, eh?"

"If you'd like, I can flatter you mindlessly before you answer."

Sandy chuckles lightly, but he does not turn to Tor. "No need," he assures him.

"Sandy? What's wrong? Why won't you look at me?" Sandy does not reply. "Why wouldn't they let me in?"

Sandy simply sighs.

"Sandy..." Tor repeats, kissing Sandy's cheek before staring out the window with him. "You know I'll love you no matter what it is."

Tor catches a hint of a Sandy's smile in the reflection from the window. His hand reaches up and squeezes Tor's. Tor smiles, too, and he looks down at Sandy's hand with love and affection that quickly turns to tears. Sandy's hand is covered in a blood-soaked bandage.

"Sandy?" Tor asks, looking up at his lover. "What happened?" He feels the pain that was moments prior coursing through Sandy's body seep into his. He clings tightly to the arm of Sandy's chair, determined not to stagger with the pain and collapse to the floor.

Sandy finally turns to Tor, revealing a face half-bandaged, both his hands wrapped tight in white cloth, and his ankles, too. "They say I have the Stigmata, Tor," Sandy admits, the most unbearable kind of pain in his eyes.

Tor draws himself closer and lets out a shuddering breath. "No..." he breathes. "No... Please no..."

Sandy runs a hand through Tor's purple, spiked hair. He smiles gently. "You look so handsome today. You always do when you come back from church."

"Sandy!" Tor wails. "Don't flirt with me! They'll kill you! They're going to kill you and all you can do is flirt with me!" He lets out a longish keen and burries his face in Sandy's thigh.

"They can't kill me if they don't know."

Tor looks up at Sandy and shakes his head, trying to keep eye contact while not breaking down and crying. "No. You don't understand. They'll know. They always do. They're priests for Christ's sake, Sandy! They have like a direct correlation to God or something! They'll find out, and they'll take you away from me!" He sets into a totally new set of tears.

"Tor..."

"NO!" Tor replies with conviction. "I won't believe it."

Suddenly, the door bursts open, and a handful of orderlies and nurses enter. "I'm sorry, Mr. Mathers. He got away from us. You won't be disturbed again."

Tor stares at Sandy with wide eyes. "You told them not to let me in!" he shouts. Sandy looks away. "TRAITOR! I love you! Okay? I fu-"

"That's enough, Sir," one of the nurses says sternly, grabbing Tor's arms.

"You bastard! I can't believe you!" Tor continues to scream, dropping obscenities left and right. "To Hell with you, Sandy Mathers! To Hell with you!" he shouts as they drag him from the room. "TRAITOR!" he screams again as they close the door behind him. He drops to his knees outside the door and begins to feel newfound anguish and pain, hugging himself and rocking as he cries.

"Sir, I think you should go," one of the orderlies says, laying a hand on Tor's shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" Tor screams, shrugging off the hands,tripping to his feet, and pushing passed the nurses and orderlies. "Don't even try!"

He races down the halls, down the stairs, and out the doors. He runs to the park and then through it, all the while the voice in his head sings mockingly.

"Blessed is the land and the kingdom.
Blessed is the man whose soul belongs to.
Blessed are the meth drinkers, pot sellers, illusion dwellers.
O Lord, why have you forsaken me?
My words trickle down, like a wound
That I have no intention to heal."

Tor runs passed the Church, and whatever lack of comfort he can obtain through the men there. Still the voice sings.

"Blessed are the stained glass, window pane glass.
Blessed is the church service makes me nervous
Blessed are the penny rookers, cheap hookers, groovy lookers."

Finally, Tor makes his way into his room. His father, exiting the bathroom, begins to ask what's wrong, but Tor slams the door on him, throws himself onto his bed, hugs his pillow, and shakes. He weeps, shaking and shuddering with pain and cold. Why? Why did Sandy do this to him? Why didn't he want him there? What had made him change so?

"Oh Lord!" Tor sobs into his pillow. "Why have you forsaken me!" In his fit of hysteria, Tor hardly notices the voice finish the lines of the song.