****
The Definition of Love
Part One
by: tinkerbelle
****


“ This must be what it feels like to suffocate, “ Chris whispered, feeling his way to the bathroom blindly. 
He was hardly able to stumble his way around the Fatone house in broad daylight, let alone pitch black, but when
nature called, he wasn’t about to put her on hold. He couldn’t see two feet in front of him but he was sure he was
headed in the right direction, the tinkling sound of the running toilet was acting like his north star. Squinting, he
was sure he could see the door just a ways ahead, the soft silver of the moonlight slivering out from underneath. 
Finally, he sighed, turning the doorknob and fumbling for the light. 

“ Of course it would be impossible to find....” he grumbled, running his hand along the wall, up and
down, side to side. Where the hell was it? He squinted again, wishing he’d remembered to grab his glasses before
taking this trek. His foot caught itself on the magazine rack as he stumbled along, sending him sprawling toward
the sink, his arms flailing before him to break his fall. *thud* His head made immediate contact with the glass of
the mirror and he sighed, wishing he’d just told mother nature to fuck off for the time being. Now his head was
throbbing, and still no light. He reached up and touched his forehead gingerly, his finger stickied in what he was
sure had been his own blood. Sighing, he turned for the door, he didn’t even feel the urge anymore, but his eye
caught on something....a light switch. 

*flick* He turned it on and looked back at the mirror, his reflection marred by words, written in red
lipstick. He looked at his forehead, lipstick; finger, lipstick. 

****
"My love is of a birth as rare
As ‘tis for object strange and high
It was begotten by despair
Upon Impossibility."
****


The words stung his throat as he repeated them softly, twisting each one on his tongue carefully. He
looked around, unsure of who it was for, but he felt terrible for messing up the perfection of it all with his stupidity. 
Carefully he reached up and smudged at the mirror with his index fingers until the letters looked whole again,
someone had put a lot of effort into this surprise. With a smile, he wondered where the rest of the poem was
hidden....this was only the first of eight verses, there had to be more hidden somewhere.....curiosity was about to 
get the best of him. 

“ If I were romantic.....where would I hide poetry? “ he asked himself, stumbling back to the spare
bedroom, if he was going to go snooping, he would need his glasses. No more stumbling into things, he didn’t
want to come out of this looking like the cover of the Backstreet Boy’s new album. 

Down the stairs he wandered, finally able to see somewhat clearly. He wondered where the other guy’s
rooms were located, and why his was the only one upstairs with Joey’s family. He brushed the hair back away
from his forehead as he scooted along, carefully eyeing everything from the countertops to the couches for
something. Anything that struck him as strange. A slight pang of guilt washed over him, but he pushed it aside. 
There hadn’t been a name on the mirror, for all he knew, it could have been for him. Doubtful, but possible. As
he walked by papa Fatone’s den, he noticed that the screen saver had been left on, revealing a steady streaming
marquee of words, red on white. He peered around the corner and entered the room carefully, biting his lip. 

“ Aha! Found you....” he murmured happily, reading the words once more, aloud to himself. This time the words came slow, 
as though molasses were poured over each carefully so that the air alone could savour each as well. 

****
“Magnanimous Despair alone. 
Could show me so divine a thing, 
Where feeble Hope could ne'r have flown 
But vainly flapt its Tinsel Wing.” 
****


The mirror had been slightly trite, but this was creative.....he waited for the end of the marquee, but again, no name was
listed. He glanced around the rest of the room for any give away as to who it was that was doing this, who it was
for, but not a single clue. With a shrug, he glanced in the mirror and wiped the remainder of the lipstick from his
forehead from earlier and left the room to find more of the poem. He didn’t know what he hoped to find, or gain, by following 
these clues...but he hadn’t slept a wink all night, and this beat laying awake in bed. 

Silver light pooled through the cracks in the blinds, onto the linoleum floor of the kitchen, sending a shiver down
his spine. He looked around at everything, carefully inspecting for any clues. Out of the corner of his eye,
something crimson caught his attention. A single red rose spouted out from inside the cookie jar, and giddily, he
bounded over, but to his dismay, there was no prose anywhere to be seen. Not in the jar, not on the rose, nowhere. 
His heart sank, maybe he was ahead of the poet caper, maybe he needed to back up and let the person do their
work. Maybe he found the screen saver too quickly. With a slight nod, he decided to grab a bite to eat and head
back to his room to wait it out, he’d give the mystery person a half hour before he jumped back on their trail. 

A blast of cool air rushed against his skin as he peered into the refridgerator, hoping to find something to
curb his sweet tooth. The cookie jar had been empty, save for the rose inside, and he wanted sugar. Sugar sugar
sugar. The freezer was sounding more and more promising as the fridge held nothing but left over spaghetti and
garlic bread and various other items of Italian descent. 

The freezer held ice cream and popsicles, twinkies and ding dongs. THIS was his kind of selection. He
fumbled around the kitchen for a moment, dishing himself a bowl of ice cream large enough to feed his entire
family. He went back to put the box into the freezer, and glanced around the room nervously, giving in to his fear
of twinkies for the moment. He reached into the box and pulled out his selected sweet, and to his astonishment, a
small sheet of paper was taped to the bottom. He beamed, third verse down. 

***
"And yet I quickly might arrive 
Where my extended Soul is fixt, 
But Fate does Iron wedges drive, 
And alwaies crouds it self betwixt."
***


He’d caught them.....whoever it was was still ahead of him, which made him smile. Now he didn’t have
to try and find something to amuse him for a while. He put the twinkie back into the box and grabbed his bowl of
ice cream, moving along. He didn’t know where he needed to go, but there were still five verses left......


With a small thud, something fell to the floor just behind him as he left the kitchen. He turned with a jump to see
what it was, and looked down: a small, black pager was vibrating on the floor. Who was calling a pager at 3am? 
Shrugging, he walked over and picked it up, debating as to whether or not to call the number back. It obviously
belonged to someone in the house, and only upon closer inspection did he realize that it was his own. 

“ What the hell? “ he muttered, examining a foreign number. Who was calling him at that time of night,
er, morning? He almost shrugged it off as a fan who got hold of his number, but his curiosity took over once again
and he looked around the house for a telephone. He found one sitting near the computer, which had once been
displaying a verse and was now shut off. “ Wierd....” he sighed, poking at the numbers on the face of the phone
with his index finger. Four rings....and a familiar click of an answering machine turned on.

“ You fucking call me at 3am......” he began, but stopped in his tracks as a voice came on, reciting the
fourth verse of the poem. 

“For Fate with jealous Eye does see....Two perfect Loves; nor lets them close:...Their union would her
ruine be, And her Tyrannick pow'r depose. “ He gasped, whoever it was was doing this....for him. They knew he
would get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. They knew he wouldn’t be able to resist snooping
around....they got lucky with the computer, but they knew damn well he would go straight for the sugar once in the
kitchen. He smiled, now he wanted to know who was doing this. Just when he was about to click the phone off,
the voice came back on, startling him. 

“ Call this number....and follow the sound of the rings.....” He did as he was asked, and hung up the
phone. Re-dial. *riiiiing* He listened for the mystery phone, and heard a soft ring from somewhere just across
the living room. Somewhere in the bank of hallways leading to the spare bedrooms. It sounded like someone’s
cell phone. He left the phone sitting off of the receiver and quickly followed the sound of the rings, the answering
machine wasn’t picking up this time. Whoever was doing this for him wasn’t far ahead, he thought with a grin. 


Lance’s cell phone was ringing off the hook, but Lance wasn’t in bed. No, he was nowhere to be seen. Instead, the
rings stopped. They stopped. He looked around suspiciously, whoever it was had gone back into the computer
room at put the phone back on the hook. They were watching him. He looked over at the cell phone, it was laying
next to Lance’s lap top, which had been carefully left on, and open. He never left it laying around like that, so
Chris went to close it up, but stopped. It was open to the FuMan Skeeto Buzz forum...the announcements section. 
He looked at the list of announcements, one in particular caught his eye. “CHRIS: CLICK” it read, and he
smirked, he was sure he knew exactly who it was now....it had been Lance’s cell phone, now Lance’s computer. 
But why him? No, it couldn’t be him....this was too obvious. He clicked the link, and up popped the fifth verse of
the poem, as expected. 


***
“ And therefore her Decrees of Steel 
Us as the distant Poles have plac'd, 
(Though Loves whole World on us doth wheel) 
Not by themselves to be embrac'd. “
***


He examined the verse carefully. The next clue would be further away this time, thus far they’d been
clumped together....but now the lovers have been placed further apart. Now the clues would get further apart, they
had to, if he wasn’t mistaken. Someone knew this house well, someone was able to get around the house quickly,
with no problems at all, and he was sure he knew exactly who this someone was. It had been his gut instinct, but
he’d dismissed the idea because he didn’t think the person had it in them. But who else knew their way.....his eye
caught on the screen, there was a photo of Gwen Stefani below the poem, he scrolled down. 

“ There is a CD playing for you down the hall, for our simple kind of life...” it read. He smiled and
listened, and softly through the floor, sure enough, he could hear Gwen’s voice floating. Following the entrancing
sound of her voice, he moved stealthily down the hallway to the spare bedroom Joey had taken, giving Chris his
old bedroom from when he lived at home so long ago. He said Chris would be more comfortable in a room that felt
lived in, rather than a cold spare room, and he was right. It was so much easier to fall asleep in a strange house
when the room didn’t feel so open and drafty. 

Softly he sang the song in his high falsetto voice, smiling, he loved this song, he loved her voice, he loved
everything about this moment. Next to the stereo, he saw something that made his heart skip a beat. A teddy bear
with a construction paper heart in his hand. It was Joey, he knew the bear by smell, even from so far away. That
bear had been his lifeline as a child, the one who knew all of his secrets and never told a soul. He knew everything
about Chris, and in turn, Chris loved the bear unconditionally. There weren’t many times in his life that he’d felt
so loved as when he held this bear. So long ago, he’d given the bear away to his love, and hadn’t seen it again. It
was the hardest gift he’d ever given someone, it was as good as giving a piece of his heart, of his soul, but it wasn’t
enough to keep that person with him. It wasn’t enough to sustain a relationship. And when it was all said and
done, he couldn’t take it back, couldn’t bring the bear back to him. With a weak smile, he picked it up and
snuggled it close to him, taking in the scent deeply, musty and aged, but still Joey no less. He looked into the
heart, the sixth verse was scrawled inside messily, but he recognized the handwriting, the chaotic letters that had
made up so many notes before. 

***
“Unless the giddy Heaven fall, 
And Earth some new Convulsion tear; 
And, us to joyn, the World should all 
Be cramp'd into a Planisphere. “
***


As he stared at the writing, he heard the scratching of claws on the hardwood floors and looked down,
seeing Busta at his feet. He smiled, and bent down to touch him, but the dog jumped backward quickly. He held
his hand out further, enticing him, and finally Busta came closer. He ran his fingers along the soft, fine fur of the
dog’s head, smiling. 

He was about to scoop the small dog into his arms when a small piece of paper fell from Busta’s collar. Great, the
person had even accosted his dog in the name of Valentines Day. He picked it up, anxious to read the next verse,
though he knew every line by heart. 

***
As Lines so Loves Oblique may well 
Themselves in every Angle greet: 
But ours so truly Paralel, 
Though infinite can never meet. 
***


He winced, the poem was so beautiful, and so tragic. He wondered why this poem was chosen, why this
person was sending him on a wild goose chase all around the house, searching for one of the most tragic poems of
all time. He couldn’t even imagine where the finale would be....there was only one verse left, one small section
left and it was all over. He didn’t know what he would find, who he would find, but he almost didn’t want it to
end. This was like a fairy tale, like something you see in a movie but you think no one is ever like this in real life,
no one does stuff like this for real. 

“ Come ‘ere Busta dawg....” he cooed, kneeling on the ground, but the pug ran in the opposite direction. 
His smile faded, what the hell had gotten into him? “ Busta.....baby, don’t run around the house....” he called, but
Busta had disappeared into the living room. Quickly he followed, but the dog just kept going. Through the
kitchen, into the back hallway, down the stairs to the basement. “ BUSTA!” his shout was shushed, harsh whisper
as he yelled for the dog to come back to him. He hated when Busta didn’t mind him. Why had he inisted on
bringing the dog on the trip to New York anyhow? He followed the dog down the stairs, into the darkened
basement, and stopped clean in his tracks, his jaw dropping to the floor. He could not believe his eyes.......

“ I knew it was you......” he muttered with a soft smile, tears welling up in his eyes, though he tried not to
let them fall. He could feel the pressure in the back of his eyes, the tears would come, it was only a matter of time. 
“ I knew it......I had hoped it was you.....” 

***
"Therefore the Love which us doth bind, 
But Fate so enviously debarrs, 
Is the Conjunction of the Mind, 
And Opposition of the Stars."
***


The final verse was scrawled upon the ceiling of the basement, amidst glow in the dark stars. Chris’s eyes
darted from star to star as his vision blurred and he allowed the tears to fall. He looked down at Joey, who was
sitting, perched in the center of a red and white checkered blanket on the floor with a rose in his hand. Next to
him was a brown basket with the neck of a wine bottle jutting out carefully. There were the tiniest little black ants
on the floor, cut and pasted from what looked like construction paper. 

“ I never got to give you a picnic under the stars...” Joey whispered, smiling. “ What better day to do it? I
know you told me that no one had ever really done anything specil for you for Valentine’s Day before.....and I
probably shouldn’t have, because well, we broke up.....but I.....” he stopped mid sentence as Busta licked his hand,
and smiled. “ Yes, you did a GREAT job mister dawg, here’s your prize...” he pulled a dog treat out of the picnic
basket and watched as the dog skittered off into a darkened corner of the room. “ Anyway, I know you’re probably
wondering why I chose that poem, of all things....it’s us, Chris. It’s us. We’re fate, we’re real. I was born to love
you, I was born to make you happy......but this poem has already written out our fate. The world is fighting us
every step of the way, Chris.....but I hope someday, maybe someday....we can look back on the poem and smile
because it doesn’t mean anything anymore, because we can be happy together and the world won’t turn it’s back on
us.” 

Chris choked on his sobs, he couldn’t believe everything Joey was saying. 

“ Please.....just say.....” 

“ I love you, Joey. I love you.....I love you....” Chris stammered, kneeling on the blanket in front of Joey,
tears streaming down his cheeks. His pulse raced as he leaned in and took Joey into a kiss, something he’d never
done before. It had always been Joey to initiate the kisses, but he was taking too long this time. He was saying too
much, and Chris didn’t want words. Words only made him cry, he wanted the feeling of Joey’s perfect lips against
his. Deeper and deeper they kissed, Chris entangling his fingers in Joey’s mass of brown hair. Joey’s arms pulled
him in closer to his body, entangling themselves about his waist until he almost felt as though they would just melt
into eachother. If ever a moment was truly magical......

“ Be my valentine...” Joey muttered between breaths. 

“ Forever. “ 


*************** THE END ****************

The Definition of Love ~ By Andrew Marvell

My Love is of a birth as rare 
As 'tis for object strange and high: 
It was begotten by despair 
Upon Impossibility. 

Magnanimous Despair alone. 
Could show me so divine a thing, 
Where feeble Hope could ne'r have flown 
But vainly flapt its Tinsel Wing. 

And yet I quickly might arrive 
Where my extended Soul is fixt, 
But Fate does Iron wedges drive, 
And alwaies crouds it self betwixt. 

For Fate with jealous Eye does see. 
Two perfect Loves; nor lets them close: 
Their union would her ruine be, 
And her Tyrannick pow'r depose. 

And therefore her Decrees of Steel 
Us as the distant Poles have plac'd, 
(Though Loves whole World on us doth wheel) 
Not by themselves to be embrac'd. 

Unless the giddy Heaven fall, 
And Earth some new Convulsion tear; 
And, us to joyn, the World should all 
Be cramp'd into a Planisphere . 

As Lines so Loves Oblique may well 
Themselves in every Angle greet: 
But ours so truly Paralel, 
Though infinite can never meet. 

Therefore the Love which us doth bind, 
But Fate so enviously debarrs, 
Is the Conjunction of the Mind, 
And Opposition of the Stars. 

********************************