Exiting Darkness, written by Plexadonn (Plexadonn@yahoo.com) (this is a fictitious story about a young adult boy with cancer who discovers that another boy with whom he is in love shares similar feelings, thus they act upon their feelings for one night of happiness...)
Hearts came undone. A span of several months elapsed in which voices of lamentation and tears that seemingly came from heaven were brandished upon the head of the stricken. Ensconcing the poor, deathly fellow was a mass 'apology'.
I am so sorry, he would hear for the rest of his life. When this phrase became too frayed and tattered to further abuse, they would adopt some other pathetic scheme to distract him from the doom. You are going to a better place. This, he did not understand.
Since childhood, Louis had attained a brash skepticism from an unknown or forgotten source. This better place was truly thought to exist, obviously, but conveniently it was intangible. Louis explained that this nonsense they professed not only insulted his intelligence, but was an allegory.
These people clouded him like a thunderstorm. When they rained, they all flowed down and thundered him until he was restless. Everyone had opinions and beliefs that were unmistakably superior to his failing brain, his disintegrating body. They knew what was best for him, and he would follow them into Hell if he knew what was good for him.
He told them all to go fuck themselves, of course. For what else could he do? Yes, it was very painfully evident he was dying. Louis understood very well that his body was destroying itself with cancer and that soon, very soon, he would cease to live. However, Louis explained to those confused and idiotic folks that he was still a human being, and was going to live the remainder of his life the way he had been up until this point in time, regardless if they thought he should just give up and send his 'soul' to this fantasy realm called 'heaven'.
In his attempts to escape their fanatic persecution, Louis had lashed out against his parents. These adults, these buffoons, had bestowed upon them more than their share of empty and fluently recited prayers, and wishes for him to accept his death in the manner they had, then weep himself into a miserable, mournful depression until the stress itself killed him.
I hate you. This is what he last said to his father. Of course he truly did not hate the man. Louis hated the man's cowardice in looking to some preposterous religion for aid instead of looking into his son's dull, grey eyes and look at his humanity. The man would not allow himself to see his son as a human anymore. Louis was now just a shallow body with his 'soul' stuck inside. He was as good as deceased now.
Maybe he did hate the man. His mother certainly despised the oaf. She loved her son, though, loved having a son, and now that he was leaving the mortal world, she would have to recompose her wife mentality in order to create a new son that would not die of cancer seventeen years after birth. She would try again, by all means.
Louis had grown old very fast. That is, his body was now weak and growing more insensitive each day. He could not operate a vehicle properly anymore, thus limiting his ability to go outward amongst the world. His mother was quick to come to his aid though, and provide his transportation to school -for the last week he would be there- or any kind of shop.
After this week, the doctors said he would be too debilitated to continue the regular routine of school. That he would have do homework in the hospital was out of the question, for his mother was quick to argue with the doctor that doing homework would be no good if he was going to be dead the next day.
Fuck you too, mother. He would not speak those words, of course. They rotated in his mind though. He would find anger, and this emotion would wane until nothing, and thus a cycle.
At the beginning of that week, Louis noticed an accumulation of melancholy that phenomenally manifested itself in the vehicle. Each day, each journey to the school, the mist upon the interior of the windows was thicker, and the ice jutting from the dashboard grew more inches. His mother, sitting there behind the wheel seemed to become greyer each day, too.
It really was quite a display of psychic and hallucinogenic power. The boy was amused, in a strangely morbid way, the way his mother's voice seemed to slur and drip from her mouth in a sinister fashion. The way she was always saying things like Goodbye.
This last day was his. This was his last day.
All the gunk on the car was invisible when he wanted it to be. Today was to be the final attendance. Stepping from the vehicle, dressed in his typical grey attire, Louis moved tiredly along concrete and through doors, across foyers and hallways to his appointed places of class. This would only take about seven hours.
The day moved along as it normally did. Louis found himself somewhat hypnotized by monotonous teachings and boring voices from professors. This was worsened by his access to paper and writing utensils in which to doodle nonsense or write lame poetry which would end up discarded in a trash bin somewhere hours later.
Louis only had two friends with which he regularly communicated or interacted. The triad would form at the median of this day, around 12:10, when conversation and merriment would commence.
Amongst a tiny crowd stood a male, aged seventeen like many others, who was fussing with a vending machine. The buttons upon which he smashed his fingers did not seem to want to cooperate, but he tried to accomplish it anyway. He had wasted 75 cents, sadly.
Louis approached him, trying to traverse the crowd that was becoming denser as more people clambered on top of each other trying to get to a specific vendor for a specific food. He would try to get this other male in his grip and secure them both from the insanity of the crowd, probably by walking several yards to the cafeteria or to the courtyards down the hall.
"Jackson." Louis spoke, slapping his skinny had to the male's back. Jackson, as was his name, glanced back to his friend for a brief second, his face twisted with irritation.
"Fuck this shit," he said, stepping back and moving to an adjacent machine to try again. Louis watched him, having seen this before with many other folks who had been robbed by the same machine. He never used it himself, for he disliked soda of any kind.
"How ya doin', man?" Jackson finally asked cordially, raising a hand and propositioning a greeting. The two males conjoined their fists in some teenage ritual of saying hello and whatnot. Jackson pulled his friend into a hug and began walking with him, as if they had some specific place to go. The action was friendly, a bit much; in fact, it caused a flush of happiness to spread though Louis.
"Tired as hell." Louis said blandly with a bit of a smile. They moved along the hall and exited the building, fleeing from the noise of the hallways and entering sunlight, exiting darkness. The males moved, still huddled together, Jackson grinning with mock glee and Louis smirking shyly. The sort of attention was that which would be displayed by lovers, with Jackson's arm draped across Louis' shoulders. These boys were not lovers, however, and Louis was very sure that Jackson's handling of him was not to insult the dying boy's sexual orientation.
"It's your last day, isn't it?" Jackson asked. Louis responded in the positive, sighing sadly and glancing towards the ground where two fat, black birds were feasting on what looked like pizza.
"I wish I could do something to make you feel better, man." Jackson said, the attention paid to Louis' shoulders now becoming sincere with the statement. The dying boy could find several ways that his friend could alleviate his sadness, but they would not be met with optimism, unfortunately.
"It's no big deal, I guess." Louis said while forcing a habitual smile and glancing up to his friend, who immediately let go of their half embrace to rummage in his slacks pocket for something. Louis lost interest in the outing, and opted to go for the library for the remaining half-hour. Jackson seemed to have forgotten something upstairs in a classroom and hurried off.
A dim fuzz rang in Louis' ears for the rest of the time spent at school. Now settled in a monotonous demeanor of melancholy, the words that echoed along from fellow students was filtered through this haze; it became tainted with plain horror, it seemed.
Nothing really made much sense to him anymore. That he had joined in some failed endeavor, came in far too late to succeed, and that everyone around him continued on their own, truly did mesmerize him. His body was slowly deteriorating, and his mind was more slowly declining into dementia, but the surroundings continued to thrive.
The boy had lost this contest, had failed in life... that contest being life itself. He was defeated, and there was no hope of returning or fighting for his right, the doctors were adamant about that, as his body was.
In his state of mind, the fog of defeat amongst his person, Louis could not fathom a reason to sustain himself. He could not summon any manner of enterprise to achieve, and nothing similar that could give purpose to the remainder of his life.
Remaining in school had been seen as stubbornness. The family accused him of simply being difficult, all in his hatred for his Orthodox family, the ones who scorned him for his sexual orientation and who oozed nonsensical religion as vomit to his soul.
There was no goal, no. Louis did not care about school or his education; there was no existential or personal reason to continue with this, no scheme to sustain his humanity or character. He simply wanted to be with his friends. Jackson, he just wanted to see him one last time, as the guy was not the sort of person to visit a hospice when he could be playing football instead.
For the third class, he would be accompanied by a mutual friend, Annie. This girl, who's want of excitement in life had brought Louis to holding a very strong common ground, had a head of the reddest hair he had ever seen. Annie's tresses were that of a thicket of mahogany and tangerine forests, dark and lush, something that seemed full of life and bristling.
Where otherwise it would please him to see the juxtaposition of her enthusiastic hair and her demure personality, today he felt it mocked him. Like he with his loss in the contest of mortality, her body seemed to be some kind of hypnotic metaphor of the same: as the world grew fierier around her, she continued to slide along underneath unscathed and unworried.
Sometimes he wondered if she was dying inside too. But she was such beautiful young woman.
"How much shit d'your parents give you about staying for one last day?" She asked of him. The two sat at different tables, the male in front of her with his torso twisted backwards to speak face to face.
"They gave me some shit about being irresponsible. I really don't remember exactly what they said. But you actually think I'm just gonna roll over and say 'okay, just put me in the hospital now so you don't have to worry about me anymore'."
"You know, I really think you take it kinda hard. I mean," she leaned forward and rested her chin, speaking more to the table than him, "I don't think they're trying to oppress you or anything, just wanna make you feel more comfortable."
"I understand that. I..." Louis was not sure if he really wanted to admit the reason for his last day. "I just wanted to live normal, I still do, regardless if I'll be dead in a few weeks or less."
He mortified those close by who could hear, although the two were talking at a whisper. He felt no need for tact in his speaking. What did it matter if the whole Earth knew of his impending doom? It was of no consequence.
"Are you gonna tell Jackson?" She asked, and once again that flush of emotion made him hot in the face. She knew very well of Louis' feelings for the football player. It was not a secret anymore, and for the first three years of this career, he had hidden it very well.
"Uh, no. Of course not, why would I? What good would it do? It would only disturb him. He'd prolly beat the shit outta me anyway." This he babbled, and this he had recited many times in his head about the outcome of doing such a ridiculous thing.
"He wouldn't beat you up, what the hell are you talking about?" She actually sounded offended by his statement.
"Come on. He's the kinda guy that would take it too seriously and get paranoid about it, then before he realizes it, he's got my skull broken against a wall, simply... just because I was trying to rape him or something."
She was dumbfounded, as stupefied as her glum countenance could allow it, that is.
"You don't really believe that."
No, he did not. Absolutely, he was very sure that Jackson would react quite calmly to being told that a close friend of his was completely in love with him. Jackson was not violent in the slightest, aside from his like of the sport. He was known to be a very sensible and chivalrous sort, very old-fashioned in his way of life, but not as empty-minded and orthodox as Louis' family.
But as for what sort of reaction or response would be given to Louis, there would be no telling, for Louis would never speak of it. The act of being afraid of an immediate, brutal attack was simply a way for him to keep taciturn, to give him a reason for abstaining from the truth. For the issue of his unrequited love, he would forever remain taciturn.
The dying boy had not expected Annie to betray him though, and to seal his 'doom'.
She met Jackson outside of the boys' locker room to speak with him before he showered himself down. Her mind was set in her goal; it was somewhat of a betrayal, but she was not attempting to sabotage Louis' peace of mind.
"Jackson," spoke she, "do you..." but now she had to think carefully. In her opinion, this was an ultimately delicate matter and needed to be handled rationally. Mind over heart. "You know that Louis is gay, don't you?"
"Yeah, I do. Why?" He was hot and uncomfortable in the sunlight after an hour's worth of practice and was hoping she would get to the point. They were alone, which made her mind at ease, just slightly.
"Well, he really likes you. Do you know that?"
He frowned a bit, "You mean like, more than friendship 'like'?"
"Jackson, he doesn't want you to know this. So please don't tell him I told you. He's insisting this stays a secret between me and him, but I feel that you have every right to know. Jackson, he's very much in love with you, and he's been for a long time."
"No he isn't." Jackson chuckled, this was a silly joke and somewhat insulting. It was obviously stemmed from his faux-intimate flirtations with the boy. Several moments of silence passed. "This is some kinda joke right? Because I always hit on him?"
"That's part of it, yes."
"He knows I'm straight."
"Yes, he knows that, but it doesn't matter. The point is, he loves you, he really... it's because you're the only person who's ever been nice to him without some ulterior motive behind it. I think he feels that even though you don't hit on him seriously, you are more sincere than any of his ex-boyfriends."
"Why are you telling me this, if he wanted to stay in the dark about it?" He said, still frowning, his mind upset now.
"Because I believed you should know."
"How am I supposed to react to that? How am I supposed to feel? Are you trying to make me feel guilty or that I should do something about it? Because he's dying I have some kind of obligation to him?"
"I'm not saying that at all." Her arms crossed over her bosom protectively, as if Annie were trying to shield herself from his angry words. She shook her head slightly, her face still smoothly unfeeling, the intense maroon and burgundy of her locks fluttering gently upon her shoulders. "I simply don't think that's the kinda thing he should take to the grave with him."
"Oh god, Annie." Jackson said, disgusted and not wanting to think about Louis going to the grave. "I gotta go wash, okay? I'll catch ya later."
The two parted, Annie taking her conviction with her, but not realizing that she had made any sort of impression on the boy. He stripped naked and stood under the shower head for about a minute, his mind glittering fiercely with thoughts of utter aggravation towards her.
On some level of rationality, he agreed that perhaps Louis should have been honest with himself and to Jackson and confessed this. However in his own logic, he could not understand what good should come of it. From the short amount of time Louis had to live, there could certainly be no peace or happiness gained from this affection.
Jackson felt misery after this thought, and could only wonder what sort of happiness he could give Louis. To what lengths could he travel?
Jackson knew where his friend's locker was, but not his last class, and had no way of confirming whether or not Louis had even decided to stay for the whole day as planned. He moved to the building which housed Louis' locker with speed and ambition in mind. He needed to speak with the boy quickly before his courage fell short of his heart.
As soon as he entered the building he felt that he was acting stupidly. In his last day, what could the dying boy possibly need with something as useless and superficial as a tiny locker? He was most likely already home and preparing for his move to the hospice.
But nevertheless, Jackson searched for him, and Louis he found. It was surprising to see Louis standing there, motionless and gloomy, staring into the open compartment.
Jackson approached at a normal pace, the hallway nearly empty of students and teachers. He gained the proximity of his friend, and discovered that Louis was searching through a pile of folded papers, small letters of correspondence received between him and Annie. Jackson very much enjoyed how much Louis' expression improved, that he immediately seemed to brighten to see his friend.
Louis produced a smile on his face, not the sort of artificial twitch one sees a miserable person physically dying force on himself, but quite a true smile. His eyes almost glowed with color, with light of a pale amber hue, radiating slightly to express joy in an otherwise destructive universe.
Jackson refrained from giving too much physical contact. Armed with the knowledge of Louis' deep affection for him, Jackson simply tried to be as cordial as possible, speaking, "Hey man, I guess this is the last time we'll get to see each other. Outside of the hospital, I mean."
"Yeah, I know. It's no big deal though. I figured you'd be too busy to visit, as you actually have a life."
Jackson felt a sting in his chest at these words. It was evident that Louis did not intend to insult his friend, and that his speech had simply been a truthful candor that was quite common for the boy. Still, he disliked how nonchalant Louis was about knowing someone he loved would not attempt to visit him once more before his death.
For several moments Jackson was unsure of what to say. Thus, in his stupefaction, he continued with his intention.
"Well, I was wondering... are you busy today?"
Louis felt disappointed, thinking that this question was pertaining to some idiotic invite to a football game or alcohol-laden party at his house. Neither of which Louis would think to attend, as he would be more comfortable and happy dying alone on a bed than have to see his loved one totally ignore him in favor of a party or game.
"I'm supposed to pack some shit up. But I prolly won't; I don't see the point." His meaning was that personal possessions would not longer please him and have no place for him in the hospice.
"Well I was wondering if you wanted to hang out for a little bit. You know, we've never actually done anything outside of school except that concert thing last year."
The idea of hanging out casually was a great joy to Louis, and he agreed with much enthusiasm, "I'd love to, man. Where you wanna go?"
"Well I was just thinking my house, unless there's some place you think we should go. Maybe we could play some games, just chill out, ya know?"
Yes, the prospect was quite a good one. The only obstacle would be to deal with Louis' mother, as she would most certainly disapprove of the unexpected avenue, and demand he pack up his things as according to her plan. The plan that Louis was unconcerned with
There would be no convincing of her. He simply would need to tell her what he was doing and that she would have to either pack it herself or there would be a slight delay. Getting to Jackson's house though, she might not be willing to do such a thing.
"How do you wanna go? Can I ride home with you? Otherwise I'd have to listen to my mother bitch about it." Jackson was well aware of the way Louis' family was treating the impending death of the boy, and that he could provide some kind of distraction from those malicious pests made Jackson very willing.
"Yes, I'll give ya a lift."
"Alright, lemme just go tell mom to go home."
The argument was unpleasant. Much of it was Louis trying to explain to her why there was no problem in spending the day with his friend. He used his cold emotions to insult her and make her feel guilty, but she only accused him of irresponsibility.
"Come on, it's not like I'm doing anything important. Why are you so eager to get rid of me? I know you don't wanna see me anymore, especially that I'm dying. But I'd much rather hang out with my best friend for the last time than have to listen to your crap, honestly. No offense mom."
Louis eventually frustrated his mother until she was in tears, and expressly furious with his attitude, words and behavior. "Fine, go do whatever the hell you want." She seethed at him, and drove away from the pair.
At first, Jackson felt ashamed for having been the source of this new family grief. But Louis explained that he was in the right here, that in the last few days of his freedom, he truly should be in charge of the actions, not her.
"Plus, I really would rather spend the day with you than anyone else." He smiled shyly, feeling a bit of joy at the fantasy that Jackson was saving him from the family which sought to be rid of him quickly. Jackson directed them both towards the car, still refraining from applying his typical physical affections that, until now, had felt innocent to him.
Louis was disappointed by this. Previously, he had always felt exhilarated at the feel of Jackson's arm around him, and felt flushed with sensuality when Jackson sat on his lap, or when forced to do so himself. It was common for the larger male to do such things in public, in the middle of a busy classroom, and try to embarrass himself and his friend.
To Jackson, it had always been a silly game, but to Louis it was a small reason for him to fall in love.
Louis noticed how noisy and cumbersome his friend's car was, and was very glad to step away from it when they arrived at Jackson's house. As neither of them were smokers, the fact that his car stank of cigarettes was a huge source of annoyance, and try as Jackson might, he was never able to fully be rid of it.
Both felt they were smelly of the smoke, but Jackson's mother did not seem to notice, and was quite pleased and surprised to see Louis there to visit. The two greeted each other and held chit-chat for a minute or so. Her name was Edna, and she was very empathetic with him in regards to his plight, and she inadvertently did him a tremendous kindness by not once mentioning anything related to that of religion or 'god'. He loved her from then on, and wished deeply that she was his own mother.
With a quiet whisper, he joked about wishing that his own mother had the intelligence of Jackson's. Jackson understood why he said it, and explained that with the stories of Louis he had told his parents, they sympathized and understood very well his disdain of religious nonsense.
The boys played games for about four hours until Jackson's father arrived at the house. From him, Louis received a similar type of conversation to that of the mother, except this man - Henry - was visually exhausted from his day at work and many errands afterwards, and expressed an apology but he would really like to just rest for the remainder of the night.
Jackson generously gave up the living room television to his father, an act which Louis agreed to in his mind, and like he had done with Edna, watched the adult for a few moments. Contemplating silently, he wondered how his life might have been different if he had a father who had been more taciturn and less overbearing, such as this Henry.
In a few minutes the family and the friend of the son situated themselves around a large wooden table to partake in the evening meal, which the mother was very happy to see Louis enjoy. The dinner conversation not once strayed to the subject of Louis's health, nor his family. Jackson managed to keep Louis out of the subject for as long as he could, until Edna wanted to know more about their level of friendship, and why she had not seen the boy more often.
The fact that Jackson had never bothered himself or Louis in regards to mutual time spent together had been a major disappointment with Louis. However, the day and subsequent night were profoundly amending, and Jackson's generous behavior gave Louis a new appreciation for his friend. Yes, it was unfortunate that there had never been meetings like this, but now there had been at least one such day, which was sufficient to Louis.
After the meal, Jackson and Louis bade the parents farewell and retreated to Jackson's bedroom, where further video game playing commenced.
"Dammit," Louis said, his mood quickly descending to irritation and melancholy, "I need to call my mom." Neither of the boys had been paying attention to the time of day, and it was now late in the evening. It was the time of night that Louis was preparing himself for sleep.
"Yeah, it's getting around that time for me too."
"Can I use your phone?" Louis asked.
"No, never." Jackson jested with a grin. And before Louis exited the room, Jackson forced out a question, "Hey, I was gonna ask you. Do you think you could spend the night here?"
Louis paused in his step and wondered. The idea would be of another misery to his mother, which he truly did not wish to inflict for fear of the wrath to be suffered the next day. It would, however, be further time spent with his friend. And in the presence of this house, Louis was feeling exceedingly relaxed and happy.
Therefore, the idea was pleasing to him. Much like dealing with his mother before, it would not take convincing, but merely a battle of words in which Louis would be stung many times, yet persevere nevertheless.
"Yeah, I'd really love to. Would it be okay with your mom and dad?" Louis asked with his face slightly aglow with anticipation. Jackson looked at him for only a second, in this span he was in admiration. Once again, Jackson beheld the face of death and gloom and saw joy and recreation emerge from within. In this new, minor endeavor, Jackson wanted to succeed again: he wanted to make Louis as happy as possible.
"Eh, I'm sure they won't care. As long as we don't stay up too late. They're real strict about that."
"Um, I'll tell them that I'll make sure you go to bed at the right time." Louis offered. Jackson stood and moved past him, a light touch from his hands upon Louis' shoulders making the dying boy smile.
As Jackson went to manage the discussion with his parents, Louis moved to the telephone to break the news to his mother. Surprisingly, she was not upset by the news. Which plainly reasoned that she was still upset with the argument earlier, and that she would be further angered later: the sudden shock of Louis deciding not to come home tonight would take a few minutes to have effect on her.
With his half of the plan successful, even with the brief tint of guilt he was feeling, Louis hoped very much that Edna and Henry would grant their son and his visitor the absolute kindness. In order not to bother the three, he returned to the bedroom.
Jackson remained unseen for another minute or so, in which Louis found himself increasingly uninterested in taking up any more game-playing. Instead, he sat down on Jackson's bed, where they had been situated previously, and allowed himself to be hypnotized by the bright green light from the game console.
It was a beacon. It was a reminder of the things that he would never again partake in... something that would continue to succeed and experience life where he would be curtailed in that kind of journey. Louis glanced upwards to the ceiling, and along the walls, scrutinizing the collage of posters and memorabilia.
Some he had once known. When Louis had been alive, these things were very common to him and he used to enjoy them. No more... no more, of course. That time was over. His life was now returning to Zero. The action of standing felt odd to him. So quickly had his mentality been enveloped in the dull noise of static hatred and melancholy, it was slightly alarming.
Upon his nose and cheeks, it felt like ice. Again, cold and frigid grime of the inconsiderate Earth was manifesting itself to hurt him. It was not sufficient for the World to forsake him, but it was doing all in its power to encase him indefinitely in sorrow. There would be no escape from his torment; even with Jackson there now, Louis would never be safe and would soon be driven to insanity.
Yes, he was as good as dead now. He came to accept his fate, so why should the Elements around him insist on raping his peace so violently at the most inopportune times? Where only a few moments prior to now Louis had finally felt love and warmth from his friend's company, there was now such a thick cloud of steam and a wall of ice around him, he could barely hear Jackson talking.
"Louis, you okay?" He asked. Louis was gripping himself, frowning and breathing too shallowly, making the boy dizzy. His entire posture was negative.
"Yeah. Sorry," he shook his head a bit and sighed with sorrow, "What did you say?"
"I said you can spend the night." Jackson was standing close to him, at Louis' side, leaning forward to look into his friend's face. "What's wrong?" But the query found itself to exist in stupidity. Jackson quickly realized what was bothering his friend, when logically considering the facts of Louis' existence and natural demeanor.
"Just thinking..." Louis said softly, not looking to his friend, but staring at nothing. "It sucks man. It really fucking sucks that I have to die and I can't... nobody can do anything about it."
Jackson shook his head in disappointment and sighed, nudging at Louis' shoulders. "Come here." He said, opening his arms for an embrace.
Louis obediently moved towards his friend and put his arms around Jackson's torso, nestling his head against Jackson's chest. As Jackson was taller, Louis could fit his head under the chin, and Jackson fit it there comfortably, laying his cheek on the top of Louis cranium, wrapping his large, thick arms around his sorrowful friend.
The warmth from Jackson's body began to melt the ice that had formed around Louis, but the steam from the World mocking him remained. He sighed again, softly nestling into Jackson's embrace, lightly holding on to his back. In an action of sympathy, Jackson traced along Louis' back one of his hands, rubbing up gently up and down along his friend's back in attempts to soothe him.
"Louis, you can go ahead and cry if you need to. I'm right here to help. It helps me if I do it." He said, with reservations, not wanting to insult his friend in anyway.
But Louis only snickered a bit, saying, "I'm not gonna cry. I hardly ever do. Usually I just try to work it out in my head."
Louis expected Jackson to push away, wondering if that statement would let his friend know that he was feeling better now and did not need the male affection. Yet Jackson held on to him, sighing softly himself, and continued to caress his friend.
Their embrace tightened slightly as Louis used more force with his arms, smiling now, a facial gesture invisible to Jackson. It could have been Jackson's warmth, or the combined body heat of the two of them, but Louis was now feeling such a rush of heat to his own body that he practically melted into the enticing and comfortable body of Jackson.
Louis gave his friend a friendly squeeze, gripping his body and feeling the soft flesh with his hands, holding it affectionately. The situation was a dream to him; not in the sense of it feeling unreal, but that such an action was something he knew that felt right. It felt utterly comfortable, and he loved the sensation of Jackson holding him to his big chest as such.
At first, this embrace had been to help either alleviate or evaporate Louis' glum mood, but now it was simply to enjoy the feel of Jackson's body against his. For Louis at least, it felt so much more than comfortable; it was a sense of security. For this moment in time, Louis felt protected and safe from the World. There occurred no thought in his mind that Jackson was once again only feigning affection. Louis did not even imagine that Jackson was doing this out of some sense of intimacy; he was merely offering his sympathy and comfort.
However, as much as Louis enjoyed feeling his friend's powerful body in his arms, he did not think before speaking. "It feels so nice to hold you." And after, he did not realize that what he said could have been taken as something implying eroticism.
"It does." Jackson said, blushing heavily, an effect totally unseen by Louis, who was gently nuzzling his face against Jackson's chest and nearby shoulder. Louis was as happy as he could possibly be, that was quite evident to Jackson now. He did not want to say or do anything to disrupt it.
He had spoken the truth. He truly did feel comfortable holding his friend. It did not bring with it unsatisfying or embarrassing emotions, and nor did the sensation cause him to be ashamed. It brought him the utmost joy, in fact, that he was lessening the pain thatLouis felt in his heart.
Whether or not Louis should be grieving was of no consequence. Yes, it was certain he would die, and everyone understood that, and yes it was unfair and perhaps he was in the wrong for being sad and angry with his family. But the true events taking place were comfort: one of the most basic of passions that could entwine two people.
This was how their Universe was created, and it was excellent.
It was at that moment when Louis noticed a hyperactive reaction occurring within Jackson's chest, and it made him curious. "Jackson, why is your heart beating so fast?" Louis leaned his head in closer to feel and hear the beating more closely.
Jackson sighed uncomfortably, "Because of what I'm about to do." He said. This phrase engendered a tremendous amount of uncertainty within the other boy whom he held. In actuality, it sounded somewhat strange and roughly intimidating. Louis stepped away from Jackson a single pace and gazed quizzically, still keeping his hands on his friend.
"Um, what do you mean?"
"Look, man. Annie told me how you feel about me, that you've been..." he strongly disapproved of his actions, but was quite incapable of control, it seemed, "in love with me for like three years now."
Louis glared with devastation. Inside himself, he was hurt spiritually beyond anything he had ever felt in his life, and he was humiliated. First, Annie had bestowed deception upon the face of his friendship that had been there long before either had met Jackson. And now he was discovered and stripped of his secret, in the mercy of the beast.
He quickly pulled away from Jackson, fearful. "I can't fucking believe she told you that." Louis' mind was so discomposed that he did not embrace any chance to lie about it, or to twist the words in his favor at all. He felt utterly lost now.
Jackson was not sure of what to say either. For in his mind, this scenario would only call for slight embarrassment from Louis, not a strange defensive stance. "Look, Jackson, I wasn't trying to hit on you, I swear." He was standing as far back as possible, holding out his hands as if trying to calm a rabid animal from attack. "I just thought you were trying to help. I'm sorry, just please let me explain. Just calm down."
"Dude." Jackson said with a scoff, "What the fuck are you talking about, 'calm down'? You're the one freaking out here." There was a pause between the combatants where some kind of passive energy emitted from Louis' eyes. Jackson could only translate it as fear.
"You actually thought I was going to hit you, didn't you?" He asked. Louis lowered his hands and averted his eyes in self-defeat. "What's with you, man? I'm your friend, you don't even trust me at all?"
"No, it's not that." Louis made an attempt to describe why he believed that Jackson would have reacted violently.
With several failed sentences, Jackson made an outrageous claim that Louis' expectations were conditioned reactions from experience with his father's behavior. That men of this nature have been, in the past, persecuted as such for their ways, but in this case it was utterly ridiculous to expect it.
"I didn't mean to insult you, man." He sighed, that horrible sound which Jackson hated, and nervously fidgeted with his shirt. There existed nothing else in the world but the two of them; in his mind, the only emotions he had ever felt were now accumulated, and this was the pinnacle of his life's endeavors. The love he felt for Jackson was about to turn. "I just thought I might have deserved it if you did. You might as well have killed me."
"Louis, godammit." Jackson said, stepping to his friend and embracing him again, as they had before the break up. "Please stop that." Now there was true anger in his voice and in his grip, for he was squeezing with desperation. "I know you're depressed, Louis. But I want to help you. That's..."
He held Louis in front of him and examined the boy's eyes, a pale green, fluctuating between love and perplexity. "That's what I wanna do for you." Their lips came in contact, and in Louis' surprise it took him several moments to realize that it had been Jackson's motion. The taller one was pressing into him, gently kissing and cradling Louis' body in his arms.
Louis tightly squeezed at his friend and reciprocated the tender affection with full enthusiasm, purring in his throat a sound of gratification. Smoothly, two tongues slipped through and caressed each other, eagerly intruding the other's mouth and expressing a mutual enjoyment and rapture.
For a full minute, the boys deeply kissed each other, Louis kneading Jackson's back with his hands, rubbing along the soft tissue and powerful muscles therein, encompassing the entire physical pleasure that was Jackson.
Louis, during the kiss, subtly tugged at the hem of his lover's shirt, sliding his hands up inside of it, wanting to feel Jackson's flesh with his own, on his bare hands. To Louis' delight, Jackson quickly understood his friend's desire and immediately fulfilled it. He quickly slid the garment upward, stripping his torso naked, and tossed it to the floor.
Visually, there was more of a husky nature in the boy than of forced muscular tone or fat. His abdomen filled in nicely without being too much like oozing bread dough, and he was certainly not obese. Along with his chest, shoulders and arms, there was thickness and strength, and all of his flesh was uniformly covered with fine, light-brown hair.
To Louis, Jackson was the embodiment of masculine beauty. "You're fucking gorgeous." He said through a nervous chuckle, reaching with his hands to caress Jackson's exposed physique. Jackson was still warm, and radiated comfort and ease like a burning furnace.
"You really think so?" He asked as a reply, grinning broadly and raising his arms upward to lace his fingers upon his head, posturing and letting his torso stretch outward, making himself look silly. Silly, yes, but it was still beautiful to Jackson, and highly, highly erotic.
To prolong the event, Louis simply embraced his friend again, pressing himself against Jackson's skin, as much as he possibly could manage, and breathed with him. He organized the meditative phenomena himself, making his inhalation and exhalation in conjunction with his friend's. Doing so would bring their spirits together; help them communicate passion more fluently, telepathically.
Jackson quickly came to the realization that Louis would not let go of him without protest, and it would only obliterate the sublime emotions literally issuing from his body. For Jackson could feel the warm flush of heat on Louis's face, and his body itself was heating up as well; the experience was exactly as he had hoped: that Louis could finally find solace and fulfillment with him.
That he did. Louis did not let go for quite some time, and Jackson had settled for leaning against his bedpost as some kind of balance and to break the weariness of his legs being fixed in their positions. Soon after, Jackson suggested to Louis that he, too, remove his shirt and that he also wanted to feel his friend's bare skin on his own.
The boy truly was sad. Louis' skin tone was vanishing to a strange, bluish hue, and his ribs were clearly defined through his deteriorated muscles. But it was not Louis' body Jackson was focusing this experience on, it was the boy's spirit. He wanted to save him from the grief of loneliness. It was too late to save his body from atrophy.
Resting against the bed in utter silence, both males wrapped in each other's arms, they felt themselves hypnotized by their breath. Louis continued to breathe in time to Jackson, and listened to the soft pumping of his friend's heart within the torso. He meditated, cleared his mind as best he could in order to obtain imperfect clearness.
Louis inhaled deeply, smelling his friend's skin, an aroma that further soothed him and brought drowsiness to his mind. His spirit flowed forth, draping them both in the warm light of comfort. It cascaded down; alongside the arcades of agony he had built in the foundations of his mind, and obscured the intricate workings of his sadness and regret. Jackson had been the catalyst in this new remedy, this subconscious potion of happiness and warrant of relief.
This is what Louis focused his mind on, the ever-flowing energy of his spirit, and the joy of Jackson's presence. He was totally intoxicated.
"You wanna get to bed?" Jackson asked softly, trying to keep from startling his friend with his normally voluminous voice. "You look like you're starting to get sleepy."
Louis agreed that he was, indeed, getting drowsy and sleep sounded like an excellent idea.
"Alright, uh... you need to do anything before you're ready?" Jackson wondered.
"Not really, I just need to lie down and fall asleep. Um, where am I gonna be sleeping."
"Well, my parents brought out the cot from the garage..." he moved to the door, opened it, and began to bring a grey cot within.
"Oh, alright." He sighed, evidently displeased with the idea. He stared at the cot in Jackson's hands, stepping to the far side of the room and standing next to the computer, waiting for Jackson to assemble it. But his bare-chested friend stood idle as well, watching him.
"Well, man, I'd like you to sleep in my bed with me. But I'm just scared my parents will see us. I don't want them to know I'm a little... ya know?"
"You could lock the door." Louis said, hopeful, nibbling at his lip.
"Yeah... but they'd get suspicious." Jackson sounded truly worried about these issues, but his way of saying did not sound convincing to Louis. Either way, the dying boy was happy that Jackson had accepted his love, and let him show affection, and truly had given him quite an excessive amount of happiness. Louis did not want to display a desire for over-indulgence or pertinence.
"Alright, it's no big deal. Let's just get to sleep."
He aided in the assembly of the apparatus, both boys stripped down to their under garments and said goodnight to each other. In a moment, Louis asked if there was some way they could play some music, something ambient or light, in the stereo underneath the TV. Jackson explained that he could do so, but that playing anything in the stereo would make the lights flash and dazzle ridiculously and annoy the hell outta both of them.
He proved it, too. Reaching over and pushing the power button, it caused the machine to flash its lights like a wild kaleidoscope which made them both chuckle.
Another idea shot down to its death, Louis decided to try his hardest at meditating again. If he could not be in immediate proximity, he would focus his mind on the romance they had been sharing only a minute prior. Laying his head down on a pillow and curling his legs as he normally did, he began to arrange his breathing pattern and focus his thoughts on the sight, feel and smell of Jackson's body...
However, only one additional minute had lapsed when Jackson sat up in his bed with a groan and carefully made his way to the door of the room. Louis, with his concentration broke, concluded to himself that his friend needed to use the lavatory, and was hoping it would be quick about it.
Louis heard his friend touch the door handle, and it sounded as if Jackson had locked it. Then silence ensued, Jackson still in the room, in the darkness and shadow. Louis had his head turned away so he was facing the wall with the stereo, looking at the faint, amber-colored light of the machine. He just wanted to sleep, and ignore the soft rustling.
"Louis." Jackson was heard immediately behind him, whispering and touching his friend's shoulder, groping at him blindly.
"Yeah?" Louis asked, hopeful that Jackson had changed his mind about the matter.
"Come on, sleep with me." He had.
"Are you sure?" Louis was elated, of course, but was still rational enough to understand the caution in doing so. He wanted very badly to be in Jackson's grip once again, but did not want to ruin his friend's reputation and humiliate him.
Still, this was another allegorical representation of Life's cruelty for him. Jackson was playing the game of Louis' death: he had given a gift of generosity and love that would help fill in the holes left by Life abandoning him, forsaking him. But there still lingered the firmament of continued life in Jackson: that he was still going to exist long after Louis. He was conjoining himself with Louis' death, but remained in sight of his life after, and was still worried about the consequences of his actions.
But this was a Human function of existence. Thus, Louis could not feel wronged in anyway, for it was not an intention of Jackson to insult him. That Louis was handicapped in the worst of fashions, Jackson could do nothing for it, but provide the remedy of Love.
"Yeah. I'll just tell my mom that I had the door locked 'cos we were watching porn. As long as I can say that uh... it was yours, 'cos otherwise they'll ask where I got it and where it is."
"Alright." Louis chuckled heartily, impressed by Jackson's amount of thought he had put into the deception.
Louis stood and crouched slightly, making his way to Jackson's mattress. The boy had already laid himself back down and was pressed up against the wall, as the bed was twin-sized. Louis did not mention the amount of discomfort they could experience with the lack of maneuverability, for it was of no consequence. That Jackson was willing to give him his desires, the experience itself was sufficient.
The males spent several moments fussing and fidgeting with their bodies in attempts to find a mutually comfortable position. Louis wanted them to face each other, and was quite content with nestling his face against Jackson's bare chest, his friend draping an arm and leg over Louis' body, pulling him as close as possible.
The exhilaration of the extended sensation dissolved the sleepiness in Louis. He was now basking in the essence of his friend once again, feeling the expansion of Jackson's torso as he breathed, and caressing his soft, warm skin with utter enjoyment.
Both of them had lost the approaching feeling of slumber, and both sighed happily in each other's arms, holding the body close to him, a rush of meditative euphoria engulfing them equally. Though Jackson's mentality gave him the silent disposition of benefactor, rather than newly acquired lover. He had not confessed loving the boy as Louis had done, but was merely giving him justice, a fair gift where life had extinguished him.
Louis had, obviously, accepted with enthusiasm.
-*-
Slumber came soon, though. First, Louis had drifted, having again allowed himself to meditate on the existence of Jackson (every perception focused on him, the entity), and soon after, the larger male followed. During the night, Louis remained fairly motionless, wanting to keep himself facing the boy whom he loved. Jackson, however, fidgeted quite a bit through the night.
He had turned on his side several times, and had the habit of groaning softly in his sleep, vibrating his throat low and animal-like. This behavior stirred Louis from sleep several times, and the third occurrence gave him the will to turn away and face opposite to his friend. Being intoxicated with drowsiness, he no longer felt concerned about being accidentally pushed off of the mattress.
Within the synaptic responses and his subconscious, Louis dreamed of his life with Jackson as his boyfriend, his lover... his partner. The family disapproved of the union, and the subsequent marriage, but they welcomed Jackson into the home with a gracious attitude. Parties were held in their honor.
But something broke in the house.
Louis' mind shattered suddenly and the ideas of the dream quickly dissolved as reality reformed around him. Louis awoke to something attacking him.
Wielding the passion of fear and perplexity, he shook his head, turning it to the side in order to perceive something through the darkness. All this he did with passive trepidation.
He felt Jackson behind him; something was attacking him too. It was between their bodies, as Jackson was currently wrapped around him in comfort.
Then, reality formed more solidly in the world, and more logical, rational ideas formulated. Louis quickly concluded the event, that Jackson was attacking him sexually from behind, softly grinding his pelvis against Louis' backside.
That Jackson was using him to masturbate was at once marvelously flattering, which made him grin broadly in the dark, and equally embarrassing. It was the ultimate compliment, in a manner, but somehow quite debilitating. For several moments, Louis did not know how to respond - whether to let himself enjoy the attention - or to stop Jackson and proceed with more consensual pleasures.
Feeling Jackson hold onto him and slowly rub himself sideways along Louis' abdomen, his sacrum area, very quickly got his circulation flowing rapidly and he became aroused. He spoke not a word, but moved a hand backwards to feel Jackson's moving hips.
The male stopped and began to apologize; immensely sleepy and claiming that he was not thinking properly. The fact that Jackson was subconsciously making love to him, gave Louis the impression that Jackson truly did have some romantic feelings for him, and that his heterosexuality was not as solid as he had originally thought.
"Would you like me to help you out, with that?" Louis asked, feeling slightly stupid in his state of mind.
"Um, yeah, go ahead." Jackson cautiously replied. Louis smiled, unseen by Jackson, and nudged his friend until he was supine. Louis felt along the torso and abdomen, caressing his friend with lust now, as opposed to the romance felt earlier while awake and fully cognizant.
He moved Jackson's shorts away from his body and went to work on his phallus, taking it into his mouth, eager to taste his friend and appease his sensuality. Jackson approved with a vocal gesture of bliss, the boy involuntarily holding his breath. The existence of the warmth and moisture around his member made him quiver, and that he was being treated thus lovingly by such a good friend of his, gave another aspect to the pleasure he had never once felt.
Jackson returned the affection by way of stroking his friend's head, lightly scratching along his scalp, purring in his throat from the joy. This aspect, the fact that he enjoyed the attention given by Louis more than the attention itself filled him with an abundance of satisfaction. This was the first time Jackson had felt mutual affection, mutual love stemmed from deep-seated friendship.
This was not like the generic sex acts from one of his girlfriends. Louis being male was of no consequence - this did, however, bring further excitement in its novelty - for he could just as easily have felt this bond with a female.
These thoughts did not circulate in his mind, though, only the surges of emotion engendered by them. He simply thought of Louis, of the boy's mouth on his genitals, hands grasping and caressing his body with the most passive, tender affection possible.
"Jackson, would you let me ride you?" Louis asked.
For a moment, Jackson did not understand the question. The query had awakened his conscious mind further, then, and his instinctual side was left behind as reality fully emerged. Here the idea of unconscious desire and emotion collided with the physical realm of exertion, and Jackson felt confounded, the mixture being inflamed with the extreme novelty of Louis himself.
"Sure, if you really want to." This was all he could manage. The decision was not of colossal proportions, and he could not weigh any misgivings, other than it could have consequences of sanitary problems.
"I'm hoping that you trust me when I say I'm clean. I guess it wouldn't matter if -you- were or not." Louis was thinking too much, making the situation more complicated than it had to be in his desire to experience this perfectly. "I don't have any protection, unless you got some and-"
Jackson interrupted him with an attempt at reassurance, stating that it would be no problem and that he would love to experience it anyway. Louis sighed deeply, a feeling of comfort spreading through his body and his mind.
That Jackson was consenting to his request gave the dying boy a strong conviction, and he grew confident in his lover's acceptance. Jackson was not simply humoring him. Along with that came energy, tendrils of excitement and anticipation accumulating within him, encouraging the dying boy to his actions. That it would succeed tremendously well, he was certain.
Louis moved on the bed, doing his best to keep from bumping awkwardly and disturbing his friend too much. He twisted his position, adamant on keeping the production of spiritual intensity a fluid orb ensconcing the male bodies on the mattress and not making it quake. He wished to see them, to feel the both of them, embracing each other sexually in the arms of passionate light and warmth.
Yet with the flowing energy steaming from his friend's corpus, Jackson could not help but feel some of it impeded by his trepidation. He remained with a reservation of uncertainty, unable to know if this was something he would enjoy or not. Jackson could not allow himself to be free of those obstacles, could not embrace the essence of Louis as he should, as Louis was trying to help him to do.
Maybe it would come when Louis embraced his flesh. Jackson was not forcing himself to do this, no. But all of his courage came from his idea that Louis could appease him, in the boy's professional homosexuality.
Jackson wanted to enjoy it, of course. But most notably, he wanted to experience it. And he hoped that from the latter, the first would be fulfilled. The ideas and the sensation of Louis on top of him made him gasp, the warm body straddling him. Yes, the experience itself felt good, and excited him more so than Louis' person did.
His mind learned, then, of pleasures that were unconditional. This was not from Louis' novelty, or the taboo of their masculine natures. The pleasure Jackson experienced as he felt Louis' warm orifice embrace his sensitive organ - slick with saliva - came from the 'identity' of this action. It had the face of Love, in its truest form. Jackson proceeded with this scenario, foremost, in attempts to promote Louis' happiness, and his own was only secondary.
Yes, this was the first time the larger of the two males had ever experienced mutual love, and that he felt it so much more strongly during the intense heat and vibration of lust made him realize, additionally, of how futile his past endeavors had been.
It may have been, in an important way, the fact that his lover here was a fellow male, but it was not that idea on which he focused. Jackson was convinced that Louis - as a lover - was what he had been missing out on in all of his adventures. It was not a girl's personality, her breasts or sex, or Louis's male body. It was simply, devastatingly simply, the fact that Louis loved Jackson more than he loved himself. Louis cared more for Jackson than he did for himself.
It felt slippery. Slippery, very warm and constricting. Louis' legs rubbing against his thighs, the boy's hands on his chest and stomach-area made the hairs on Jackson's body stand erect as his skin crawled under the intense pressure of bliss he was feeling.
It was incredible, such a gentle kind of strength. Heat rushed along their bodies, originating from the point of entry, where the males' bodies were connected and moist, Jackson's phallus sliding with ease into his friend, his ultimate lover.
Louis' body quivered with the effort. As he relaxed his lower abdomen - his posterior - the rest of his body, that being his limbs and muscles, strained with isometric pressure, the nerves fighting against his pivoting and balancing. They might be confused, but his mind was drowning inside paradise, the friction at his anus subduing him and welcoming him to the heaven he had always wanted with Jackson.
He breathed a new option, wanting to experience the effects of their lustful reciprocation of energy while on his back, nestled into the warm comfort of his new and last lover's lap. Jackson accepted the offer and performed the acrobatics of the function as best he could, taking Louis' into his own embrace now, and encasing the dying boy in his limbs.
The boys worked against each other, Jackson heaving and sweltering with the heat and passion cascading against him, trying to keep his voice quiet. Louis found himself bathed in a sort of tranquility because of the quietude from his lover. Whereas he would have loved to hear Jackson's call of love - his breathing and groaning - the want of lustful volume let him focus more on the friction.
On this he meditated, as he often did with certain sensations, and it sustained within him a glorified sense of how perfect Jackson was. In turn, Louis made this out to be his most pleasant sexual experience.
It was truly hot, and the feel of each other's skin made the both of them tingle, their nervous systems twitching with ecstasy and bringing them so close to climactic plateaus. In the haze of it all, the orb of steam and spirit in which they were submerged, both males lost their conscious thoughts and delved into each other with only the rawest of ardor, then.
The pressure of energy pushing down made their bodies weep, and with a spasm Louis released himself onto his body. In turn, Jackson did the same, his soul infused with Louis' and encouraged by his lover's bodily reactions to reciprocate. Not once did they disconnect until the swirling sphere of energy began to dissipate.
It made a mess of their bodies. Slime coated parts of them to the point where both needed to separate quickly and partake in mutual cleansing.
Jackson moved as soon as he could, giving his lover ample time to relax his body and allow Jackson's member to slide out of him evermore. He did not want Louis to repose for too long, though, even if his entirety had been ravaged by the exertion. It would only make a horrid mess of his sheets.
Moving away from the bed, Jackson traipsed across the cot, turned on a small desk lamp, opened his door and examined the contents of the hallway, finding the place to be unpopulated. His parents were in bed, and probably already fast asleep and unawares.
He told Louis it was safe for him to follow. They made their way to the closest lavatory, Jackson explaining that he and his parents had their own, respective washrooms, and cleaned each other.
Once more, they kissed. Previously, heated passion had been the foremost effect of Jackson's touch on Louis, and of Louis' touch on Jackson. Now, they found each other with mutual respect and the most rewarding type of friendship any living being could possibly experience. Their personalities had entwined, and within their minds grew a development of love and respect much quicker than the frost of agony Louis often saw in his own life.
Louis tried not to weep for fear that the tears would cleanse him of that warmth. The tendrils of heat and love were so much more powerful than that horrific ice and snow that so frequently encased him, and he welcomed the heat to melt them. Yes, Jackson - the incarnation of his love - would melt the ice, burn down the wall of frost and let it run in a river of fulfillment.
The Love would not last eternally, and both knew that. With its temporary nature and speed at which it would falter, the two males allowed themselves to know only each other for the moment, and that Louis was enjoying life finally made the inevitable, crushing defeat much more bearable.
Louis then understood that tears would not wash away the love, but would filter the ice from his body. The river, the fulfilling incorporation of passion, would run from his body and leave him free of sorrow. The weeping was not sad, but his face expressed the utmost joy at feeling the ice run from his body.
Jackson alienated himself from his family and friends with his visits to the hospice, where Louis was soon admitted. The frequency at which he ventured there had been unexpected, and many wondered why he cared so much about this young man whom he hardly knew. Jackson honestly wondered if there was truly anything wrong with seeing his friend there.
He told everything to Annie, how he felt about Louis and of their night of cleansing and appreciation, but she had a hard time believing him. She eventually realized the sincerity in her friend's voice, though. The girl, so brilliant with her spirit and wonderful, could see the love around him, could nearly sense the tangible residue of her dying friend on Jackson's aura. A person in love was not easy to mistake for her.
At Louis' funeral, she and Jackson were the only portions of Life present. Neither of the two was unsure if the outdoor ceremony was something Louis desired, or even approved of. The thick gloom creeping along the sanctified land of the church and gravesite did its best to dampen their spirit, though. The folks around them, Louis' family, did their best to promote the macabre energy of death; they wanted to be sure Louis was dead, and that everyone would remember him as their dead son forever.
Combined, Annie and Jackson both represented the collective effect of promoted happiness, courage, and the conviction of prerogative forces. Louis had been alive, and would forever be alive in their memories. Not as 'the dead boy', but as their friend who simply died at an early age. With that memory, they would find comfort, and not misery. This, they wanted all other to realize and force them to understand that Louis had not been a lost, miserable soul.
Louis had taken his life into his own hands, as well as his death. This notion Jackson seized, aided by the girl, whose thicket of crimson and maroon hair embellished the memory of Louis, and with its glorious light, dissolved the pall of gloom hovering along Louis' coffin. They both forced the trapped, hollow souls of his family to see that, in his seventeen years of existence, he had been more alive in spirit and mind than they would ever, ever be. With Louis's death, his spirit was finally exiting darkness, and entering sunlight.