Anniversary

I smile gently at the strange, slow turns of the blond kid, stretching out his tired limbs in the morning sun. This guy's beyond help. He's beyond protection.

Tyler has touched him.

And Tyler has destroyed me.

He'll pay.

*

Wright doesn't see me approaching him.

I mean, I'm not exactly at my most careful at the moment! I can't understand why it's so fucking easy to creep up on him.

As I reach out to him, it's Tyler's face I see in my mind – it's Tyler's sleepy smile that wrenches at me. My heart is throbbing with such anger that I can't hear the sounds of the morning in the city below. I'm full of such hurt that I can't feel my own body.

I watch my hand touch the boy's arm.

Tyler. I can hurt you back, so much more...

Perhaps Wright sees me at the last minute – hears my steps behind him. As he whirls round, his gaze flashes to my hand on him. There's puzzlement on his face – then there's sudden fear.

Did I touch him? Did I push? Hey... my mind seems a bit confused about it all, you know. But, whatever - he stumbles backwards, startled. Stumbles; and tips over the low railing.

There's only a long, low cry. A whistling silence. Then a splattering crunch on the pavement below.

Funny, really. I can hear the sounds of life down there, now. It's like everything else comes back into focus. Things have calmed inside me.

That sense of peace; it's creeping into me.

I certainly feel a hell of a lot warmer.

*

Tyler Barton sat on his couch, head in his hands. A woman police officer knelt at his feet, pale-faced, clutching a cup of cold, too-sweet tea.

The two other officers stood to one side of the lounge, keeping their voices low.

"So – foul play suspected?" asked Black, the younger one.

"Nah," said the older one, Matthews. His face looked a little grey. "Something must have distracted the boy, up on the roof. He just fell. Damned stupid place to exercise anyway, the stones are crumbling up there, the surface is pitted all over. Kids just stick out a coupla plant pots and think they've got a landscape garden."

He glanced over at Tyler, and he grimaced. "Hasn't had much luck in his life, has he?"

Black snapped his notebook shut and stared at the other man. "What do you mean? You know him?"

"Yeah. He works with my son, Harry, at the solicitor's; the city practice. He's a very smart man, my boy says. And fair to work for."

"He's a fruit –" Black's face twisted in scorn.

"And you're full o' shit!" snapped Matthews. "Makes neither of you God or the devil, right? Harry knew he was gay. Didn't bother him. It's a new generation, y'know?" He sighed, as if he'd had this argument plenty of times before.

"So what's his problem? Barton's?"

"He lost a lover last year, as well – Maxwell, his name was. Sal Maxwell."

"Another accident?"

"Sort of. Maxwell was mad, y'know – or so Harry reckoned. Insanely jealous. Caused trouble at Harry's work plenty of times – wrecked a whole room at the last Christmas party! Been under shrink after shrink. It's been touch and go whether Barton kept his job at all. Maxwell used to call for him daily, turning on the students, accusing them of fucking around with his lover. We got called out on domestics, too, time and again, out to this very flat. Neighbours upset by the arguments – Maxwell smashing up furniture 'n all."

"Barton should've dumped him," shrugged Black.

His partner privately agreed. "Sure - but Barton never made a complaint. Pretty devoted, he was. Put up with it all; made excuses for Maxwell; never played away."

"So what happened to Maxwell?"

"There was a road accident – Maxwell was on his way to the airport. Barton had got him a good job, on an engineering contract, pulled all sorts of strings to do it. Meant that Maxwell had to be away for weeks at a time, though, which just seemed to cause even more friction for Barton. Anyway, there was another guy driving. They'd both been drinking – the other guy had a record, too; local stuff – car thief; muggings. They ran the car off the road – it killed both of 'em. Open and shut case."

Matthews looked thoughtful. "What's the date today? Y'know, it's exactly a year since then – since the road accident. Hell of an anniversary, eh?"

He looked back over at Tyler Barton again; the guy looked like he'd been crying, and he didn't blame him, to be honest. He wasn't a man who thought boys shouldn't cry. And particularly not when this guy had such shit heaped on him! He remembered his son's stories, after Maxwell was killed. It was the talk of the practice for months; they all had sympathy for Barton, who was well liked. He'd been devastated – obviously really cared about the dead man. Took leave of absence; spent time in bereavement therapy. He'd only just dragged himself back to a full caseload of work, a couple of months back.

Harry Matthews was as straight as they come – but when he talked to his father about Tyler Barton, his expression had been full of compassion. The man had never been seen with anyone else, ever since Maxwell died. Whatever the guy's faults, Maxwell was the only one he cared for. But just recently, he'd told Harry that he might be interested in someone again; that he might come back on the social scene. It had been a long and lonely year for him.

"Can't say he's much of a date, eh?" grinned Black. "Wouldn't fancy my chances with his track record, even if I played for the other team!" Matthews looked at him with open distaste. Guy was a good enough officer, but a shocking human being sometimes.

Then they both looked back over at the couch, more than a little curious.

Tyler Barton sat back on his seat, face pale and haggard, a hand running through his sweat-soaked hair. He glanced over at the side table; Matthews' eyes followed. There was a framed picture standing there, of Barton with another, laughing, handsome guy. Must be Maxwell, Matthews supposed. Simple little snapshot, really; nice display...

Tyler Barton's face had gone such a shocking shade of white that he looked as if he'd pass out on the spot.

"Poor sod," Matthews murmured. "Guess that's just the way of some guys' luck."