Love
In Vein
"Vinnie, we should so not be
doing this..."
"Aw, c'mon, man, live a
little."
"I'd like to live a little
longer, actually, which is why we should not be doing this."
Ed grabbed the back of Vincent's coat
to slow him down, stumbling through the rain behind him. He was soaked to the
skin and beggining to shiver, but the older boy walked through the rain as
though it didn't affect him.
"What if we get caught,
Vinnie?"
"We're not going to get
caught." Grabbing a tree branch for stability, Vincent glanced over his
shoulder and grinned at Ed. That insane, magnetic grin of Vinnie's, the grin
that made the girls giggle dreamily with their friends behind his back, the
grin that convinced a striking snake that it would be bitten back if it tried
anything of the sort, the grin that would convince a tiger that it should roll
over and let him sratch it's belly. And Vinnie would, too. Vincent was the
bravest person Ed knew.
They made an odd pair. Ed was
nothing special and knew it, fifteen but looking closer to thirteen, soft,
fluffy black hair that hadn't been cut back to it's usual regulation B13 in a
while and was now about earlobe length, pallid skin on a round, soft face that
showed veins as clear blue lines at his temples, large, vapid eyes that were a
muddy sea green in colour with long, thick lashes, and lips that were too
thick, making him look girlish. Smart, but not exceptionally so. Absolutely
hopeless at sport. He got asthma. Unpopular as a result.
Vincent looked like a god. Sixteen,
only a year older (Less, actually, more like nine months) than Ed but looking
like he was twenty, thin, but not skeletally so. He had a kind of lean,
athletic look about him, a thin, bladed face with toffee coloured skin surrounded
by a mane of jet black, silky sleek hair, pulled back into a pony-tail with
long bangs over his high cheekbones and large, chocolate brown almond shaped
eyes outlined in black liquid and mascara. His lips were full too, but on him
it looked sweetly sensual. A ring of silver in his left ear, two in his right,
and, Ed knew, although you couldn't see it, a stud through his tongue as well.
Ed wasn't entirely sure why. And his clothes! A black silk shirt that clung to
his smoothly muscled arms and chest, the top few buttons open so you could see
the three thick silver chains looped around his neck, and a long black coat
that touched the ground on top. Tight black leather trousers on long thighs,
narrow hips and a slightly feminine waist, though his thin, sculptured ankles
were hidden by the thick soled boots he wore. Silver rings on his long fingers,
nails painted jet black and shiny. Beautiful, artists fingers, musician's
fingers. Vincent was an artist, and he played the guitar. Nobody played the
electric guitar anymore, since all the music was made by computers and sung to
by beautiful, dancing CDS groups of men and women with synthesized voices. Ed
had never been much into music, but he adored the sounds that Vincent could
coax out of the guitar. Sometimes, with a lot of persuading, he'd sing along,
although he usually tried to make Ed do it. Ed thought his voice sounded
terrible, nothing like the kind of voices any of the CDS bands had, but Vinnie
always said he liked it. Ed liked the pictures Vincent drew too, pictures of
things that weren't real, that he'd never seen, never could have seen... but
there they were, on paper, looking as real as a picture of anything else. But
drawing pictures of things that didn't exist was illegal.
Vincent's clothes were illegal, the
way he acted was probably illegal, a lot of the things he did were most
definately illegal. Not having a regulation haircut was illegal (Actually,
Vincent had never cut his hair). Not wearing CDS clothes was illegal. Vinnie
could get away with it because he was just a Prole, a commoner, grown in vats
until the age of twelve, flash educated, kept to work until the end of their
useful lives, at about fifty, when they were harvested for organs. One day,
they'd do that to Vincent. Vincent, with his pretty, illegal clothes and his
pictures and his beautiful eyes and his insane grin.
Until an hour ago, Ed had been a
good future CDS party member, the son of two other party members (Although, of
course, the women didn't actually carry the babies. Ed's mother had told
him that was oppression of women, which was probably why the rebels had lost.
Ed wasn't sure who the rebels were. He was more than a little afraid that the
rebels had been people like Vincent) and had always worn the CDS clothes. CDS
clothes had intergrated nanotech, were colourful, stylish, well cut,
comfortable, kept you warm, kept you safe, could fix themselves, could tell
your parents where you were, and if you were badly hurt, they'd stop the
bleeding and call the ambulance. He'd even seen girl's dresses that changed
colour and pattern when they were told to, or when the temperature or lighting
changed. These clothes didn't do any of that. The fabrics felt different, not
sleek and smooth like CDS fabrics, and they didn't work up static like the CDS
clothes sometimes did. They also did't keep you as warm. Or dry. At all. He'd
never worn any of these until an hour ago, and wouldn't have ever worn them
except that, yesterday, Vincent had wheeled around with his mad, magnetic grin
and said:
"Want to do something
fun?"
"Like what?"
"Like go meet a girl."
That had shocked him. You didn't
look at a girl the wrong way until you'd married her, and meeting one in
private, with nobody else around...
"Meet a girl and do what?"
Vinnie had grinned.
"It's called sex. It's fun. You
should try it sometime."
Ed had gaped for a couple of seconds
before working out a strangled reply.
"You haven't."
"Like fuck I haven't. You
didn't think that sort of thing didn't happen, did you?"
"Vinnie, you'll be shot."
"Only if they find us, and they
won't find us. I found this place... it's an old bomb shelter, must date back
to the War. Was a wreck when I found it, but I fitted it out a treat. It's lead
lined. As long as you don't take any nanotech inside, they can't find it, and
there's a sewer exit just in case we have to make a run for it. No worries, eh?
C'mon, man, we need a lookout. I'll teach you a couple of chords on the guitar.
It'll be fun."
And so, an hour ago, Vinnie had slipped
into Ed's house through his open bedroom window, and Ed had changed into the
clothes that Vincent had brought him, a t-shirt with a faded list of locations
on the back and an unknown band name on the front, dated over a hundred and
seventy or eighty years ago, a pair of loose black trousers with too many
pockets and a studded black leather belt to hold them up, heavy black boots, a
long coat of some black material, a pair of pretty silver rings for his fingers
and a studded black dog collar. Vinnie had even held his chin and outlined his
eyes in black. Staring at himself in the mirror, Ed hadn't been sure if he
liked the way he looked or not, but he did look... different. He looked a
little less like Ed and a little more like Vincent. And that couldn't be a bad
thing.
"C'mon, man, not so slow.
Amanda's going to be getting impatient."
"Amanda?" Instead of
speeding up, Ed stopped dead. "Amanda Palmer? Colonel Palmer's daughter?
Are you mad?"
"Only slightly." Vinnie
grinned, grabbing Ed's arm to pull him along. Ed gaped like a fish, then
stammered.
"B-But... her dad's in the
Guards, Vinnie! She's CDS! You'll be shot! You're not telling me she... you...
Oh, Vinnie..."
"Don't look so shocked. I've
met her half a dozen times before, we've never been caught. We're not going to
get caught this time either. Unless you rat on us."
Ed skidded to a halt again,
wrenching his arm free.
"Vinnie!"
"What?" For a moment, the
grin was almost gone. Vincent sounded hard, but the tough edge to his voice was
brittle, almost flawed. Ed looked hurt.
"How can you say that? You
think I'd tell on you? I'd never tell anyone anything about you, you know
that!"
For a moment, Vinnie's eyebrows just
rose. Then he grinned again, in a warm way, and clapped his hand on Ed's
shoulder.
"Of course I do, Ed.
You're my best mate."
"Just as long as I don't have
to be your best man." Ed muttered, just loud enough for Vincent to hear.
He laughed, then shot a strange look back at the boy as he turned to move on.
"Don't be stupid."
"But... Amanda Palmer...
couldn't you have picked a slightly... less CDS... girl?"
"Beggers can't be choosers.
Amanda was what was going, and besides, she's fine."
"She's pretty. She's not a nice
person."
"I didn't much notice. The
talking sort of kept to a minimum."
"Vinnie..."
"Ed, stop sounding like my
mother." When Ed shot him a strange look, Vincent shrugged with another
grin. "Ok, stop sounding like my mother would sound if I actually had a
mother. There it is."
Ed shivered. Proles didn't have
parents.
The bomb shelter was more
comfortable than Ed had thought it was going to be. The walls were just
corrugated iron, illuminated by a stark, bare bulb, but they were plastered
with pictures, posters, some of Vinnie's drawings, photographs, bits and pieces
cut out of old newspapers and magazines, sheet music, flyers for bands whose
grandchildren, if they'd had any, would be dead by now, and here and there just
bits and pieces that were memories of a bygone age; tickets to performances
that had happened anywhere between a hundred and fifty and two hundred years
ago, the covers of books that no-one had read in over a century, sweet
wrappers, playing cards, letters from a school that'd been torn down in 2015.
There was a sofa that looked like it'd been severly beaten up, with a couple of
balding cushions and a big piece of material to make it look more attractive, a
couple of chairs in a similar state, an old wooden table, a number of cupboards
and bookshelves stacked with all sorts of odds and ends, from toys to pots of
paint to tins of food, a blackened wood-burning stove, a scratched seedy
player, half a dozen pots and pans (Including a kettle) hung on hooks on the
wall, a trio of guitars, two electric, one accoustic, a battered looking
amplifier and a second room behind a large, slightly tattered curtain. And, of
course, Amanda.
She was pretty, this was true, with
a heart shaped face and a cupid's bow mouth, but the ugly look she shot at Ed
when he scrambled down the steps into the shelter was unmistakable. She was
wearing a dress of wine coloured silk, with a black velvet vest laced over the
top, flouncy white underskirts and striped stockings, with little patent
leather shoes. She didn't mind sitting so you could see they were stockings and
not tights, either.
"Toss us a towel, Amanda, that
shit's raining like I don't know what." Vinnie sat on the stairs so he
could see out into the bare clearing in front of the shelter. "And stick
the kettle on. I could murder a cup of tea."
"I suppose you want one
too?" She glared at Ed, who nodded, wriggling out of his coat and
hovering, shivering slightly, in front of the stove.
"Sit down, Ed. Make yourself at
home. Don't worry about getting anything wet, it'll dry. Get him a blanket,
Amanda."
She flung a rough, thick sheet that
smelt like what Ed imagined was sheep at him, handing another one to Vincent
with a little more care before going on to slap the little iron kettle on the
stove. Ed towelled his hair, then wrapped the blanket around him tightly as he
began shivering again. He wormed his feet out of the boots Vinnie had given
him. They were rough inside, and he didn't have socks on. There looked like the
beggining of a blister on one toe.
For a long time, there was silence,
Amanda making the tea with a scowl on her face. Finally, Vinnie snorted loudly.
"You two are getting on like a
house on fire. Stick a seedy on, won't you?"
"What do you want to listen
to?" Amanda asked sweetly. Vincent shrugged.
"The Cranes?"
"I don't like them."
"How about Bauhaus?"
"I don't like them
either."
"All About Eve?"
"I think I heard them and I
didn't like them..."
"You don't like anything. Stick
Violet on."
"What band is that?"
"The Birthday Massacre."
"Oh, I don't like them..."
"And don't complain."
Amanda pouted, but put the seedy on.
Ed listened to the first few tracks so intently that he didn't notice the cup
of tea placed in front of him.
"Hey, I've heard this
before!"
"No, you haven't. You can't
have. This isn't CDS music, stupid." She scowled at him, but Vinnie
grinned.
"Course you have, Ed. I'm
always playing this on the guitar. It's probably my favourite album."
"What's the song called?"
"Lover's End."
"And it's... electric guitar,
and stuff?"
"Yep. Good, huh?"
"Yeah!"
Vincent grinned at him again, but Amanda
just scowled, traipsing over to give him his cup of tea. Ed tried to listen to
the music and not to their whispered conversation.
"Why did you bring him?"
"Cause I wanted to."
"He's useless. A drip. I've
seen him around school, he's the kid that sits in the corner and gets ignored
all the time-"
"Gets ignored by the stupid
pricks you call friends. He's my friend, and I wanted to bring
him to my place."
"I don't know why."
"You don't like it,
leave."
"You don't want me to
leave." Ed hated that coy, all-too-precious voice of hers. Vinnie didn't
seem to be taken in by it either.
"No, you don't want to
leave. And if you don't want to leave, then lay off Ed."
"But why'd you bring him?"
"Cause he's my friend. We
needed a lookout."
"I've got friends too, you
know. I could have brought Lisa and Katie."
"Katie doesn't like me."
"I don't like him!"
"I couldn't give a fuck,
Amanda. It's my place and what I say, goes. And I said Ed could come. And he
did. End of story."
"If you brought him as a
lookout, then make him keep watch for a while. I'm fed up of sitting
around with someone I don't like."
"Why don't I make you keep
lookout and then I can go talk to Ed about something sensible?"
"Because..."
And then Ed tried very, very hard
not to hear what sounded like Amanda and Vincent kissing.
"C'mon, Vinnie..."
Don't call him Vinnie, he thought. I call him Vinnie.
He doesn't like anyone else calling him Vinnie.
"It's Vincent, Amanda."
She laughed. It wasn't a pleasant
sound. "Vincent. Fine. C'mon, isn't this what you came here for?"
There was a long silence. Finally,
Vinnie said, louder.
"Ed? D'you... d'you mind
keeping watch for a little bit?"
"No." Ed replied lightly,
although he was more than a little tempted to say 'yes'.
"Just sit up here, where I was,
and yell if you see anything that looks like a human, especially if it's moving
towards us. You got that?"
Ed nodded, getting up. Amanda was
hanging on Vinnie's arm, smirking as she pulled him towards the curtain that seperated
the two rooms. Ed settled himself on the stairs, still wrapped in the blanket,
his cup of tea sitting next to him. Trying, again, to listen to the music and
not anything else.
There was no door, after all, just a
curtain, and if they had to be able to hear him if he spotted something, then
he was able to hear them too. And that was not good.
He was scared. He was so scared. If
the Guards found them, Vinnie would be shot. Just shot. And they'd probably
make him watch, while they shot him, in the head and the chest, and then keep
watching while the burnt the body, because they never put those corpses in the
donor vats, they were too badly damaged, and then a white car would come to
take him and Amanda away. And they'd be brainwashed, and become those weird,
dazed, distant CDS maniacs he'd never understood. They'd make him forget all
about Vinnie, everything about him, the things he'd draw, the songs he'd play,
and did they have to be quite so noisy about it?
Despite himself, Ed glanced over his
shoulder.
The curtain hadn't quite been closed
over, and through the narrow slice of light that fell through, he could see
them. Vincent was on top of her, her skirts pushed back over her stomach, her
stockinged legs wrapped around his waist, her arms around his shoulders. Ed
couldn't see her face. Vinnie'd taken his shirt off, revealing the smooth,
toned muscles of his arms and shoulders, but still wore his leather trousers,
unbuttoned and loose around his delicate hips. His face was buried in the skin
of her neck and shoulder. As Ed watched, he moved against her again, and she
moaned, pressing him closer.
Then Vincent looked up, his almond
shaped, chocolate brown eyes meetting Ed's sea green ones, and Ed suddenly had
the unshakeable feeling that the curtain had been left half open on purpose.
He had to get out of there. He
barely registered the movement, but suddenly, Ed was running. He flung the
blanket away and sprinted across the bare, rainwashed clearing, ignoring the
water that poured down his face and back, ignoring the mud that squelched
between his bare toes, ignoring the tightness in his chest, ignoring the
muffled swearing and the sound of feet coming after him...
A hand grabbed his shoulder and spun
him around.
It was Vincent.
He'd fastned his trousers again, but
hadn't bothered with his shirt or his shoes. The nails of his bare feet were
painted the same black as his fingernails. Raindrops streamed over his skin,
over his face, tight and anguished, catching in the silver chains around his
neck. Ed tried backing away but Vinnie followed him, hands tight on his
shoulders. The water running down his face looked like tears. It was tears.
Vinnie was crying.
Vinnie was crying.
Vinnie didn't cry.
He was crying now.
"I'm sorry, Ed, I'm so sorry, I
shouldn't have... please, forgive me, I should never..."
"Vinnie, let me go." Ed
was scared. So scared. Vinnie was going to be shot. Vinnie was crying. Vinnie
shouldn't cry. But down, deep down, under the fear, Ed realised he was angry.
Angry at what, he wasn't sure. But Vinnie shouldn't be crying!
"No, please, Ed, stay... please
stay... look, she's just a girl, not even a nice girl, I don't even like her
very much, she doesn't mean anything..."
"Vinnie, that just makes it
worse!" Ed tried to pull away, but Vinnie's hold was too tight. "Why
are you telling me this?"
Vinnie tried, tried so hard to
answer him, he could see it, but the words wouldn't come.
"What are you trying to
say?" Ed whispered. Vinnie bit his lip, then lunged forward. Before Ed
could squirm away, Vinnie's arms had wrapped tightly around his body, pulled
him close, one hand tightening on his hair to pull back his head. Before Ed
could cry out in surprise, Vinnie's lips found his and his tongue slipped
inside his mouth.
It took a few seconds for it to
register.
Vinnie is kissing me. Kissing me.
Vinnie. Kissing. Me.
Finally, the boy lifted his head
away. Ed was shaking ever so slightly.
"Vinnie." He whispered
softly. "They'll shoot you for this."
"I don't care." Vinnie
stroked the side of his face, smiling through his tears. "I love you. I've
always loved you, damn it, I don't care about the consequences. I love you,
Ed."
Ed's hands, that had been raised to
push him away, tightened on his shoulders. "I... Vinnie, I... I don't want
anything to happen to you... if they catch us..."
"They're not going to catch us,
Ed. They can't catch us. Not now. Come back inside. Please."
Ed allowed himself to be lead back
to the shelter. Amanda was watching them, looking halfway between disgusted
and... intrigued. Ed felt slightly annoyed. She'd watched them. At least he'd
had the decency not to look when they were...
"Amanda, you keep watch
now." Vinnie pulled Ed towards the curtained door. Amanda looked shocked,
but nowhere near as shocked as Ed felt. He'd never thought... he'd never heard
of... of someone like Vinnie and... he'd never even looked at a girl
properly... he'd never thought about... and now Vinnie wanted him to...
In a strange, guilty way, he
actually wanted it. He wanted to be with Vinnie, to be close to Vinnie... to
taste that mouth on his again...
Vinnie drew the curtain, properly
this time, so hardly any light showed through, then pushed Ed gently back onto
the bed. Ed tensed as Vinnie knelt over him, but lifted his head to the kiss as
Vinnie lowered his. At least now he knew what that stud in Vinnie's tongue was
for. It was deeper, more passionate this time, better now that he wasn't so
shocked and paralyzed by fear...
Vinnie gently eased his t-shirt over
his head, his kisses moving down over the bare skin of his chest, but Ed shrank
away slightly, involuntarily. He was still scared. He didn't want to watch
Vinnie die.
"Ed?" He whispered gently,
looking up. Ed licked his lips nervously.
"Vinnie... I'm scared... I don't
want anything to happen to you because of me..."
"Ed, they can't catch us now,
not now, not now we're together..." Vinnie kissed him again. For a moment,
Ed wondered how he was seducing him so easily, then one hand slipped between
his thighs, and he forgot about that. Ed pulled him closer, making a soft sound
somewhere halfway between a whimper and a moan in the back of his throat.
"Shh." Vinnie kissed his
forehead, and his hand slipped under the waistband of Ed’s trousers. "I
won't hurt you. I love you. Give in."
Meanwhile, Amanda found herself in
the same position Ed had been in a few minutes before, trying to listen to the
music and nothing else, although, unlike him, she didn't mind picking up on a
little. She'd never heard of two men... being together... but she was pretty
sure you could get shot for it. Well, you could get shot for most things, and
this was likely just another one of them. At least, if they were discovered,
she most likely wouldn't be hurt, being the daughter of one of the Guards, and
how were they supposed to know what she and Vincent had been doing? Vincent
would most likely get shot. He was only a Prole, after all. Ed... might. No
loss, at least.
Then she saw them.
Ten, maybe a dozen of them, dressed
all in black, moving through the rain like the commandos in the movies, holding
what looked like...
Guns.
"Guards!" She shreiked,
leaping down and fighting to swing across the heavy, circular door and lock it
closed. There was muffled curses in the next room, a shuffle of sheets, before
Vinnie flung the curtain aside, decent, at least, but bare footed, pulling on a
shirt that he wasn't bothering to button, and grabbed her arm, dragging her to
where he'd pulled a poster from the wall, revealing a door she hadn't known was
there. Ed was waiting in the doorway for them, Vincent's coat over a bare chest
and his black trousers.
"Get a move on, both of
you!" Vincent herded them down a narrow staircase, slamming the door
closed behind them.
The sewers were not a place Ed would
have wanted to visit without his shoes on, but here he was. Vinnie took the
lead, leaping over a narrow channel of goodness knows what with typical grace,
Amanda and himself following with a little more trouble. The sound of footsteps
was closing on them...
"Bastards! They knew about the
sewer exit!"
They ran strait into them.
Sheer fear flattened them against
the wall as half a dozen guns were pointed at them. The leader of the Guards,
his face hidden by goggles and a respirator, scanned their terrified faces
impassively, his breathing rattling alarmingly.
"Amanda Palmer and Edward
Stark, you will come with me. Shoot the Prole."
Amanda didn't even hesitate. She
walked over to stand just beside the Guard with her eyes lowered. He turned his
glossy black eyes back to Ed and Vincent.
"Edward Stark, you wil come
with me."
"Not likely." Vinnie was
trying to push him away, trying to pull his hand free from Ed's, muttering
tearfully "Don't be an idiot, move it, c'mon, you can't..."
"Edward Stark, if you do not
come with me, you will be shot with the Prole."
"Fair enough."
Vinnie's legs gave out under him
then, and he sank to the ground, dragging Ed with him when he wouldn't let go
of his hand. Ed tried to pull him upright again.
"Vinnie, get up, you can't die
like this, get up and face them..."
"I can't!" He half turned
to the wall, Ed realizing suddenly that Vinnie was crying. "I can't, Ed!
I'm scared! I don't want to die!"
Kneeling by his side, Ed wrapped his
arms around Vinnie's shaking form. "It's Ok, Vinnie. I'm here. I love
you."
Ed wasn't sure, but he thought that
Vinnie's fingers squeezed his hand tighter.
"Edward Stark, I am giving you
one more chance. If you do not come with me now, you will be shot."
Ed lifted his head to stare at those
cold, black lenses.
"Fuck you."
And he kept staring into the eyes that
must exist behind those goggles, even when a sudden pain exploded in the hand
that held the back of Vinnie's head against his shoulder, even when the boy's
body jarred as the bullet struck his brain, even when the second and third
thudded into Vinnie's chest, one of them puncturing strait through and diving,
with a white hot sensation, into his thigh. He kept staring through the sudden
well of pain that had nothing to do with the bullet in his leg, through the
flames of unshakeable anger that rose up inside of him. He kept staring at the
bullets found his temple and his heart simultaneously. He never heard Amanda
scream.
But it's all right, don't you see? Whispered the tiny ghost of a voice
that lingers for a few seconds after the body has truly died. It's all
right, Vinnie, because we're together now and they can never take us away from
each other.
And they did not. They burnt both
the bodies in the old bomb shelter, along with the pictures and posters and
tickets, and the seedy that was Vinnie's favorite, and the guitars he used to
play the songs on, and the pictures he drew, and the clothes that they had
worn. And they made Amanda watch the flames, until the white car arrived to
take her away.
Ed's parents never investigated the
matter, accepting the news of their only child's death with little interest.
They never asked for an explanation. Neither were they offered one.
Vincent, of course, had no parents to care.