Part 3: Walking in the dark- a Hey, Brandon LGBT short story

The streets have been empty at around 2:30 in the morning when I leave my work at Spectacle nightclub. Usually, I wouldn't mind it but tonight is something different. A dark cloud covers the area, leaving only indirect moonlight illuminating portions of my path. Most patrons and workers have left the area, leaving me with an open and empty road to travel home on. The streetlamps give fleeting respite. And I'm alone.

On a normal night, I have Declan nearby as he keeps me company on the walk home up until we have to split at the park. Tonight, he just wasn't there. This is weird considering he literally lives above the club.

It's not long before my mind wanders to thinking about him. I haven't seen Brandon in a little over a week. He has it rough with having to work full-time. On top of that, he needs to take care of both his grandparents and maintain and upkeep the family property. I find it amazing that he has the energy to do it all. I envy that in fact. I barely sleep as it is with all the weird dreams I've been having and all I have to really deal with is dancing at Spectacle. I promised myself that I would only work there until I got back on my feet. But, over the course of these months, I found myself integrated into the lives of everyone around me. It feels weird to say, but I feel like I belong here in Sunset Heights. Yeah, it's not anything like where I was born or where I planned to stay. But everything changed when I came here. When I met him. Something shifted. Something happened to me.

I slide my phone open using a gesture with my thumb and open a new text message to Brandon. Maybe, this trip will be quicker if I put my mind to work on a message:

Hey, Brandon

I know it's late, but I'm done with work and I normally spend this time being walked by Declan down the road, but he's nowhere to be found. So I figured that I'd write something to you. In all honesty, I'm terrified of the dark. Standing alone on the darkened road feels akin to being alone in the open ocean. The length of the road feels as endless as the unknown depths of the sea. (have you ever gone swimming in the ocean? I miss it the most. Though, I would not stray far from shore.) I feel like I need to sprint between the spots of darkness. I may as well run. My heart will beat just as fast regardless. I hate anxiety...

"My god, I sound like a complete wuss. Or that I'm complaining. --I'm not sending this." I whisper as I second guess myself into saving the message as a draft. Why do I feel like sometimes I'm hiding from him? Maybe it's just that I don't want to wear out my welcome. I have this irrational fear that my last interaction with Brandon, will have been my last. Am I really just that afraid of loss? No, it's him specifically. I'm afraid of losing contact with him and the path that he's on. I need to keep the same trajectory.

My attention shifts from the thick gray clouds in the sky above down to a column of darkness that sprawls before me. I know that my destination lies somewhere beyond all that darkness. I maneuver myself along the edges of the street lights shine and dash between the darkest spots. Every time I pass, I feel something in them grasping for me just inches away. I can see the silhouettes of the trees in the distant pitch. Yes, I've always hated the dark. The nothing that waits at the corner of your vision. The feeling of a vacuum surrounds my body. The vibration hums through me. Grays and blacks meld into twisted landscapes. The contrast of the stars and moon reflecting off the hills battle each other endlessly. For every length of light, there is a shadow waiting close behind.

My phone buzzes and trills as it's held firmly in the palm of my hand. A new text message from Brandon flashes onto the screen:

Hey, how's it going?

I'm caught off guard and maybe just a little jumpy. The message gives me a brief pause as I catch my breath and respond:

Hey, Brandon. Not much, I'm just walking home after work. I was just typing you a message but I figured it was too late and I didn't want to bother you. What are you doing up so late?

Another reply comes through:

It's never too late. You can always send me a message. You should have let me know earlier that you would have to walk home alone at this time. I'm sure you've heard about the abductions that have been happening.

His concern warms my heart as I slowly make my way into the open expanse of the Heights hilltop park. Halfway there. A mostly untouched glade was left between districts as a natural reserve. People would often come to watch the different species of birds go about their lives before the heatwave arrived and drove them off. The nearby shrubs and trees are looking dehydrated and unkempt. It will be a beautiful mess once the fall arrives again. An opening in the clouds sends meager rays of moonlight over the area. But the darkness is pushed aside for only a moment before flooding back in. For some reason, the lamps in the park haven't been turned on for the night. I try to reply and continue the message I saved earlier but I'm interrupted by a brief rustling coming from the bushes nearby. A chilling breeze sends shivers down my back. I hate being alone.

"It's a little late to roam the park in the dark... you lost kid?" A man in a dirty brown jacket steps into view, his facial features briefly highlighted by the spark of a long drag taken off a cigarette.

I'm shaken but manage to hold to my surprise. "No, I'm just waiting for a friend." That's the best I could come up with.

"A friend, I'm sure." The man smirks as smoke wafts from his mouth.

"Look man, I'm just trying to get home." It just slipped out. And I just slipped up.

"Well, which is it? Waiting on a friend or going home? I could wait here with you if you'd like. Wait for a second... you're that stripper from the gay bar down the road. 'Fantastical' or something."

"I'm a dancer at Spectacle." I nod as if he can see me clearly enough in the dark, as my hands fumble around my pockets for anything that could help if needed. I just know that I feel that I should not talk to this man.

"You're just another piece of meat, stuck in the system. The flavor of the month." The man growled with disgust. "Haha, and you don't even realize it."

I've heard that before. I have a flashback of a dream I've had recently where a man in a dirty brown jacket called me: the flavor of the month. Yeah, the dream where Brandon ghosted me for over a week. I've never seen this man in my life. But why is he so familiar? I didn't dream this person up from anything.

"Excuse me? Listen, I'm just going to go. My house is right through here." Unless I want to tip him, there's nothing I have that could help. I'm alone and unequipped in this situation.

"Oh, what's the rush? It's not every day you meet a cute guy walking alone in the middle of the night." In the darkness, it's hard to make out the man's face clearly. Only his features. Tall and solid. Chiseled. Skinny. Almost emaciated. His frame was guarded by a long dirty brown jacket and jeans. He takes a few steps toward me and tosses his depleted cigarette to the ground. I could see the sparks from the corner of my eye. Then I felt it. The overwhelming rush of anxiety that something bad was about to happen.

"Stay back! I don't like the dark. And I'm not too fond of what I find in it." I can feel my legs begin to shake uncontrollably.

The man fidgets with an object making a metallic clinking sound, but it's too dark to see what exactly it is. The best I can do is squint and backpedal along with the fleeting moonlight and hope that what he's holding isn't a knife. I don't plan to stick around long enough to find out.

"Do you ever regret a simple choice? Like taking a shortcut through a closed park at nearly three in the morning." I try to turn as the man does the unthinkable. He lunges at me and I quickly lose my footing. The next thing I know, I'm on the ground grasping my knee which twisted on its way down. Maybe I should have taken the usual route.

I hear the kick up of dirt and a gathering of footsteps approaching quickly from the distance. Then I hear a clicking, a slap, and a solid crack. I can listen to an object falling to the ground with a clang.

"You'll never touch him!" a tall figure leaps into view.

I shake my head in hopes to clear my blurred vision. I recognize that voice... "Brandon?" I rub my eyes and wish for my vision to return. I know that voice. "Brandon --is that you?" Please be you. It feels selfish but there's nothing I want more than to see him, even if this is my final moment.

"You think you can hurt my friend?" Brandon throws a right hook at the stunned man's head, the connecting force pushing the man back and down to the dirt. "Someone I care about?!" his voice reverberates across the open air.

"You again!" The man exclaims in surprise as he looks at Brandon's face. He clenches dirt in his fists as he staggers to his feet.

"Yeah, and again and again. If you ever touch or come near him again, I'll do more than just knock you down." Brandon swelled with a commanding presence. I've never seen him like this. It's almost worth being called heroic... and frightening.

"You seem to forget. It's you who's in my way." The man in the dirty brown jacket slinks quickly toward the darkness in the opposite direction while tossing handfuls of dirt toward Brandon's face. This affords him time to disappear completely from our sight. And just like that, it's over.

"Damn it!" Brandon rubs the dirt from his face as he turns toward me and asks, "Are you hurt?"

"Brandon, what are you doing here?" I'm startled by the circumstances of our meeting. I can't say that I'm not happy. If it wasn't for him, that guy could have hurt me, or worse. Though, I come to the conclusion that maybe there are a few things that Brandon and I really don't know about each other. The relationship, if there is one, is still raw. I'm just glad he was here when I really needed someone.

"I was already passing by on my electric bike near Spectacle when I texted you, so I knew that I wasn't too far behind you." Brandon effortlessly helps me up to my feet with a hefty pull of one arm. "I ran into Declan earlier in town and he said you would be alone tonight because he had some important things to get done."

"Thanks isn't saying enough. And who was that?" I say dusting myself off, wincing from the pain throbbing off my right knee. I catch myself on his shoulder and brace myself from falling again.

"Just a shadow of who he used to be, don't worry about it." Brandon looks away to check the security of their surroundings.

"Just a shadow?" I don't know what he was talking about but at the time it was the furthest thing from my mind. As I regain the ability to stand on my own, I see a switchblade laying on the ground. I guess he really did have something that could have hurt me. I pick it up and instantly cut the tip of my finger along the blade. Not on purpose of course.

"He doesn't matter. I'm just glad you're okay." Brandon takes the knife from my hands then embraces me and holds my head to his chest. I feel warmth and acceptance. I feel like I'm now safe from all the dangers of the world around me. For a moment, I"m confident and clear. I wish I could stay like this forever.

"It's late. Let me grab my bike and I'll take you home to make sure you get there safely." Brandon lets out a smile and a deep breath before running off to the park's entrance.

Everything happens so fast in life, that it's hard to tell who's coming and who's going. I look at Brandon's face in the moonlight and am thankful I have someone I could call a 'hero'. I know it's not enough but there is only one thing I can possibly say at this moment...

"Hey, Brandon... thank you."