June Song Writing Prompt – “Pinch Me”

***Apologies for being late on this. Was having technical difficulties, and I’m no good when that happens!***



This week’s song is “Pinch Me” by the Barenaked Ladies. Here’s a link if you want to have a listen:

For this prompt, I revisited some characters from an earlier flash fiction peice (one of the photo prompts). Here is that one if you’d like to read it first.

Always Watching

And now for this week’s peice….

My head pounded, and my stomach heaved and roiled with every tiny movement I made. Which was just shitty, really. If I was going to be stuck feeling like I’d been chewed up and spit out, like I had the hangover of the century, I’d have at least liked to have enjoyed the night before. Hell, I’d had one damned drink. One. Couldn’t exactly blame feeling like ass on that. No, this was all because of my stupidity—acting without thinking, giving in to something I wanted with no thought to the consequences.

It’d been a kiss—well, technically, two—and that alone shouldn’t be enough to pitch me over the edge. Shouldn’t have me panicking and feeling sick. Yet, here I was. Ready to upchuck all over the bed at the thought of what I’d done, what I’d potentially ruined.

So many things fought for dominance inside me—embarrassment, anger, fear. And beneath it all—fuck me—yearning. As powerful as all of those other emotions were, I wanted more. Now that I knew how his lips felt, how he tasted, how perfectly he fit against me, going back behind the façade was going to be even harder.

I should be used to it. This wasn’t something new. I’d accepted this, hiding what I really wanted, being who and what everyone else wanted me to be. And it hadn’t been bad. It wasn’t as though I was suffering—at least I’d convinced myself I wasn’t. Until I met him.


I cursed and sat up, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. Feet sinking into the plush rug—and only Dad would have a fucking rug like this in what was supposed to be rustic cabin—I leaned over and rested my head in my hands.

Pushing aside the selfish want, the desire I felt for Trevor, I focused on the worry. The fear that I’d screwed up the friendship we had. Not that we were necessarily close or anything. More friends of friends, really. A start to something more, maybe. But last night could have ruined all of that. What if he didn’t want anything to do with me, anymore? He’d practically shoved me away before leaving.

Not before laying the best kiss you’d ever had on you. One that blew away even those you’d secretly fantasized about for as long as you can remember.

I reached out, blindly feeling along the bedside table for my phone. Bringing it in front of me, I entered the passcode and immediately went into my contacts. I’d had his number since the day we’d met, but had never called or texted him, leaving that for the others in our group. Even now, I hesitated to hit “send a message”, debating with myself. Finally, I opened a new message, because the least I could do was smooth this over, so that things weren’t awkward between us. That wouldn’t be fair to him or any of our other friends. I’d make him understand it was a mistake and I hadn’t meant anything by it—basically, I was going to lie, like I always did—and if I had to, I’d beg him not to hold it against me. Not because it’d kill me not to see him practically every day, but for the good of our group of friends.

-Hey. Look, I’m really sorry about last night. I don’t know what I was thinking…Obviously, I wasn’t. Hope everything is all right between us. Friends, still?

I hit send before I could second-guess myself, and a strong wave of nausea rolled over me. The phone wobbled in my trembling hands. I tightened my grip and waited. And waited. Just as I was about to give up, that damned ellipsis bubble popped up, telling me he was responding.

-Shuda nown u wr d typ 2 txt w/propr gram & pnktu8n. 🙂

Laughing and shaking my head, I typed quickly as I could to respond.

-WTF, Trev? It shouldn’t take me that long to figure out what a text says.

I waited a moment after sending that to peck out another message.

-So? Are we all right?

-1, u typd WTF so still hope 4U.

I snorted, then sighed in relief when I read his next words—if they could be called words.

-2, yah, wer gud. Wld take more thn sumthin lk tht 2 ruin fship.

Clearly, the kiss had meant more to me than it had to him. And that was a good thing. It really was, but I couldn’t help but feel some disappointment that what had been so huge and, beneath all the other shit, wonderful for me had been so trivial to him.

-I’m glad. I shouldn’t have done that, no matter how much I wanted…

I shook my head and shifted my finger to delete the second sentence. No use in admitting anything to him and—

“Oh fuck! No, no, no… Fuck!”

The message sent. I’d hit the motherfucking send key instead of the delete. And even though it wasn’t complete, that message had the power to make things much worse than a spur-of-the-moment kiss did.

Shakily, I typed again, hoping I could smooth it all over. Maybe Trevor was having a good laugh at my expense. Not ideal, but preferable to him being upset with me, I guess.

-As a friend, could you just ignore that last message? Fucking clumsy fingers got away from me there. I just want things to go back to the way they were, yeah? Friends and hanging out and all of that. Nothing more. Can we do that?

When there was no response, no ellipsis bubble, panic choked me. I sent one more word. Just one, and prayed he’d understand.


“Hey, Eli?”

I jumped at the sound of Oliva’s voice, dropping the phone on the floor as I spun around. She smiled apologetically.

“Sorry. Just wanted to let you know we should get going if we’re going to make it in time for lunch at your parents’.” The apology in her expression shifted to amused indulgence. “You forgot didn’t you? Well, get ready. Everyone’s gone, and we need to head out.”

“Sam?” I forced out, wondering if everyone included my roommate.

“Yeah, he had to study for a test, but he’s meeting us back here later. If that’s all right with you?” She lifted a brow.

“You know it is.” I stooped down and grabbed my phone. “Just need to change. Want to warm up the car?”

“Sure.” She hesitated a moment. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” I said cheerfully, even though I knew she’d hear the lie beneath the words. She always did—a result of knowing each other since we were in diapers—but at least she’d get the message that I didn’t want to talk about it, now.

She sighed but nodded before slipping out of the room. I glanced at the phone—still no response from Trevor—then tossed it on the bed before going through the motions of washing up and getting dressed.

The entire drive to my parents, I waited for the ding of my phone to tell me I’d received a text and nothing. My stomach was in knots as I pulled into the drive—more so than it normally when my presence, along with that of my parent-approved girl, was required. It really was sickening, I thought as we walked up to the front door. Staring at the solid wood in front of me, I railed against myself for being such a coward, for not being me. But, I realized, that wasn’t an option. Growing up in this house, sometimes, it was hard to tell if I even existed.

I didn’t, not really. Here, I had to be the perfect son, the excellent student, and basically whatever they expected of me. The roles I filled, or failed to fill, were the only things they saw. Me? The real me didn’t exist in their world. And I’d made sure that person didn’t exist anywhere else, either. That no one saw him. Until last night.

How fucking pathetic was that?

“Come on,” Olivia murmured, catching my hand in hers. “We’ll stay an hour then I’ll say I have to study or something, so we can get the hell outta here, okay?”

I gave a jerky nod, and together, as always, we went inside to face my parents. It wasn’t until we were seated at the dining room table, starting to eat—with Dad beginning his interrogation on all that was happening in my life—that the ding of my phone sounded. Twice in rapid succession.

Mom frowned at me as I pulled it out of my pocket.

“Sorry,” I said quickly, knowing how much she hated any technology around when it was supposed to be family time. “Just going to turn it off.”

She nodded approvingly and turned back to her soup. I glanced at the screen as I flicked the device to silent, and my heart stopped. Stopped dead before pumping wildly, painfully, taking my breath away.


-We nd 2 tlk

Check out the other flash fiction pieces inspired by “Pinch Me”!
Bronwyn Green | Kris Norris | Paige Prince


Song Fic – “Family”

songprompt5It’s time for another song fic, and I’ve gone back to my boys, Michael and Aric. I missed them. 🙂

This month’s song is “Family” by Noah Gundersen. You can have a listen here:

I actually really liked this song, though I don’t know how closely this bit of flash fiction fits the song exactly. The song did inspire the peice, mostly because I was thinking about family and how that has played such a big part in Michael and Aric’s current situation. So, I went with it.

There are 2 peices leading up to this point – PART ONE & PART TWO – if you want to read those first. 🙂


I never stopped looking back, sweetheart. You just weren’t paying attention.

Michael closed his eyes as Aric’s words washed over him and just took a fucking minute to feel the warmth of Aric’s hand against his face. He’d missed him so much, his voice, his touch, just him.

“I’m—” He cleared his throat, swallowed around the lump lodged there. “I’m fine. Really.”

Aric let out a short, quiet laugh. “I think we’ve established you’re not.” Before Michael could protest, he continued, “Go, take a shower, and I’ll make you something to eat. No arguing, okay? Should’ve done this a long time ago. I’m your family, remember? You’re mine. I think we both forgot that for a while, didn’t we?”

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Michael’s. A firm, closed mouth kiss that was over too quickly. Aric released him and walked out of the room, leaving Michael staring after him. After a moment, he shook his head and headed into the bathroom. As he stripped and got under the hot-as-he-could-stand-it spray of water, he couldn’t help but think of the first time Aric has said those words to him.

They’d been at a party at Trina’s, and Michael’s father had cornered him. Being his usual dickish self. Starting the same argument they’d had since Michael had come out when he was eighteen. He’d had been handling it just fine until the older man had brought Aric into the argument. Accusing him of corrupting Michael, turning him away from his family and saying he deserved to hurt for what he’d done to their family. Michael had snapped back that Aric was more of a man, more supportive and loving then his father could ever be. And if Michael had to make a choice, he would choose Aric every time.

Leaning heavily against the tiled wall of the shower, Michael squeezed his eyes closed. He remembered the shock that had coursed though him sickly when his father had backhanded him. The way blood had filled his mouth, and tears had blinded him. After spitting the disgusting mess to the side, he’d told his father he had made his choice easier than ever. And Michael had walked away. Hurting, but confident he was on the right path. After all, he had Aric.

He’d had to drag Aric from the party—the other man ready to knock down anyone who dared touch his partner. When they arrived home, he’d cleaned Michael up—in this very bathroom—eyes sad and hands shaking.

“The kitchen’s a disgrace.” Aric’s voice echoed over the sound of the shower. “When’s the last time you actually bought something to eat that wasn’t frozen?”

Michael scrubbed a hand over his face and tried to find his own voice.

“Well, at least you had eggs; that’s something. Get a move on,” he ordered, words coming quieter—he must have been walking back toward the kitchen. “No one wants cold eggs, M.”

How long was this going to last? Aric pushing in and taking care of him, like Michael hadn’t ruined everything between them. Getting his hopes up, thinking they had a chance to fix things wasn’t a smart move. He didn’t know if he could deal with losing Aric again. He snorted as he turned off the water. It wasn’t as if he was dealing with the first time all that well.

He grabbed a towel then looked at his distorted reflection in the mirror, his mind back to that night, when he’d stood in this tiny room, in Aric’s arms, after making his choice.

Aric had held him tightly and whispered, “You’re not his anymore. He has no claim on you. You’re mine. I’m your family, now. Always.”

What would Aric would think if he knew what was really going on in Michael’s head? Would he be so eager to stay if he knew how much Michael had changed? Would he be so quick to call Michael his? Would his words, his claiming Michael, hold up if the truth came out?


Head on over and see what else this song inspired!
Bronwyn Green | Gwendolyn Cease | Kris Norris




April Song Writing Prompt – “I Will Possess Your Heart”

songprompt1I had a whole other story in mind for this song – “I Will Possess Your Heart” by Death Cab for Cutie – which is a favorite of mine, btw.

But, I realized that idea…was something that would be much, much too long for something like this. So I switched gears.

Right now, I’m firmly entrenched in my Albion Circle series – writing like crazy on a story and characters I love. So, I decided to stay on that path with this month’s song prompt. Well, mostly on the path. Tthis is a slight detour as it’s a glimpse inside the head of Mordred – the not-so-good guy. o.O


We belonged together.

Why didn’t Annwyl see that? Why didn’t she understand that Merlin wasn’t her other half? I was. I always had been, from the very beginning. He just got to her first.

Striding in to my study, I tugged my tie off and threw it on my desk before sitting in on of the armchairs in front of the fireplace. A few murmured words had flames springing to life, illuminating the darkening room. Another muttered spell, and a tumbler of brandy floated through the air into my waiting hand. I knocked the liquor back, relishing the burn as it worked it way down my throat to settle warmly in my stomach. I sent glass back toward the decanter to be refilled. Then, simply held the drink in my hand as anticipation flowed through me.

All day, I’d been waiting for this. Suffering through keeping up appearances, pretending to work for the bumbling idiot of a governor. Of course, he was firmly under my control, as was most of the staff. If I were to be successful this life, in this time, I needed to have power in the non-Magical world. The job was a means to an end, nothing more. But it kept me from maintaining contact with Annwyl. That required focus and concentration, and I couldn’t spare more than a few pockets of time through the day. And that wasn’t nearly enough. I needed more. She deserved more.

What Annwyl and I had, what we shared—no one else could understand that. Not Arthur and his followers, not Morgana, even when she was on the right side of the battle, and certainly not fucking Merlin. Even Annwyl didn’t fully understand. How could she? With Merlin in head? Well, this time would be different, because I was the one in her head now. I would have the time I needed with her, the time to show her the truth.

I know she thought I hated her, but my hatred never touched her. It was solely for Arthur and Merlin. I may feel anger at some of her choices—in this life and lives past—and lose myself in that anger, at times, but that was only because I cared too much. I loved her. More than Merlin ever could. It wasn’t a love born out of attraction and sex, but because she and I were of a kind. Underneath it all, Annwyl and I were the same. And it was up to me to make her see that.

I lifted the glass to my lips, thinking of what I’d have to do if I didn’t succeed. I never enjoyed taking her life. It hurt me to do so, and the guilt of failing weighed on me. But it was always a last resort, when it was clear she was too far gone to accept the truth before her. I regretted that her deaths were never easy, but if she couldn’t make the right choice, she needed to be used in a way to further the cause, to send a message to the Circle.

It wasn’t too late, this life, though. I still had time to make her see, to make her understand. I placed my brandy on the end table and settled back in the chair, closing my eyes, reaching out into Annwyl’s mind. Ready to spend some time with her and show her how things truly were. I would do everything in my power to succeed where I’d always failed.

And if she were too far gone, if Merlin and his king had corrupted her completely, I’d do what needed to be done. As painful as it would be, I’d reset things for her and start fresh in the next life.

Head on over and see what these awesome ladies have been inspired to write after listening to “I Will Possess Your Heart”…
Bronwyn Green | Gwendolyn CeaseJessica De La Rosa | Kris Norris

March Song Writing Prompt – “The Hammer’s Coming Down”

songprompt3This week’s weeks song is “The Hammer’s Coming Down” by Nickelback. Kris and Paige are so happy about this. 😛

I’d planned on writing more about Aric and Michael, but this song really didn’t lend itself to their story. As I listened to it, I kept thinking of Merlin and Anna from my Albion’s Circle series. Probably because I’m back writing them. I don’t know how well I kept to the song itself, but this was inspired by it… So, I went with it – though I’m sure I’ll be back with my boys soon. 🙂 They’re still talking to me.

So, here is a glimpse into Merlin and Anna’s past – the eve before battle, the very first time they faced Mordred, back in the days of Camelot.

If you want to take a listen before you read… Click Here

The quiet surrounded me as Camelot’s great army slept. I’d been unable to do the same. I’d tried—mostly for Merlin’s sake as he’d fussed at me the night before. And for Arthur and Galahad and the others who kept casting worried glances my way as we’d sat around the campfire. So, I’d retreated into our tent with Merlin and curled up beside him on the fur-covered pallet. Being in his arms had helped—it always helped—but it hadn’t brought me rest.

Frustrated and unable to stop the doubt and fear vibrating inside me, I reluctantly slid from Merlin’s embrace, not wanting to interrupt his sleep. And, even if I lay still as a stone, eventually he would sense my unease. Particularly since controlling my power was becoming more difficult by the minute. The air in the tent teemed with it, and I tried to rein it in as I quickly dressed. With one last look at the man who slept surprisingly peacefully, I slipped outside.

A few men sat around fires throughout the camp—either on watch or, like me, unable to sleep. I paid them no mind and made my way into the trees. I didn’t go far—just far enough to be away from the bustle when everyone began to wake but close enough I’d hear if there was trouble.

I stood in a small glade and stared into the darkness, struggling against tears that welled up, that nearly choked me. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I closed my eyes and reached out mentally, letting my magic touch on all the wards and protection spells we’d woven around the encampment. All intact and strong. I sensed each of the men—Magical and non-Magical—on watch around the perimeter. Everything was as it should be, and yet, an uneasy feeling curling around me, squeezing me to the point I couldn’t breath

Morning would soon be upon us, and battle would begin. And I, Camelot’s strongest Seer, saw nothing.

I had tried everything in my power to see what was coming, to glimpse any hint of what the battle would bring. Even going so far as ingesting a complex combination of herbs said to induce visions. That had only succeeded in making me unable to control my magic at all, and had spent an hour vomiting in my chambers as my belongings either shattered or floated around me. The only redeeming thing about that entire experience was no one had been around to witness it.


I sighed as Merlin’s arms came around me, pulling my back against his front. I covered his hands with mine and let my head rest against his shoulder.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, pressing his lips to my temple.

“I can’t see,” I said softly. “I’ve never been so blind to what is ahead.”

“All will be well,” he assured. “This is hardly the first time Camelot has been at war.”

But it was the first time they’d ever faced such a Magical threat led by someone who once claimed friendship and swore loyalty to Arthur and Camelot, someone who’d betrayed them in every way possible.

“I wish you wouldn’t go onto the battlefield,” I whispered, selfishly. I couldn’t shake the feeling something bad was going to happen to him. And being unable able to see…only strengthened that fear. But, while I knew he could provide protection from afar, he never would. It wasn’t who he was.

“My place is by Arthur’s side.”

“Funny, I thought it was by mine,” I snapped, jerking out of his arms and stepping away.


I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, hunching over as I tried to calm down. I felt the comforting touch of Merlin’s magic, twining around me, gliding over my skin.

“Annwyl, please.” Desperation filled his voice, and straightening, I turned around. “I love you, more than anything, you know this.”

“Just as I know you love your king, and you will do everything in your power to protect him.” I closed the distance between us and reached up to cradle his face in my trembling hands. “Forgive me. I’m tired, and not being able to see makes me… I’m uneasy. But I know you need to be with him.”

His hands settled on my hips, fingertips pressing hard. “And I’ll come back to you. Always.”

“I know.” I brushed a thumb over his lips, enjoying the resulting shudder and swell of power.

“Mordred will not win,” he said firmly. “We’ve ensured that by creating the Circle. You ensured it by finding the spell to do so. We’ll stop him, Annwyl. And, after…”

“Yes?” I moved closer, biting back a moan when his hard length pressed against my stomach. “What happens after?”

“After,” he drawled, “we return to Camelot and ignore our friends and our duties for days while I keep you in my tower and show you again and again how much I love you.”

“Bold promises,” I teased.

“I always keep my promises, love.” He dropped a quick kiss on my lips. “Actually, why wait?”

I huffed out a laugh as he let go of my hips and grabbed my hand so he could pull me behind him as he walked.

“Merlin,” I said, trying to keep my voice hushed.

He said nothing as he led me back to camp then into our tent. Once inside, he muttered and the candles inside the space flamed to life. His bright blue gaze seared as he turned toward me.

“We’ve hours yet before the sun rises,” he said slowly. “If you can’t sleep, let’s not waste them.”

I let him tug me back over to the pallet and followed readily as he stretched out on the furs. I shoved aside the fears and uncertainty that still filled my head, anxious to lose myself in him. In the way we came together, the way he made me feel.

But, even as we moved, loved each other, I couldn’t help but feel as if this were the calm before the storm. That, come morning, once the battle began, there was no turning back. Everything was going to change.

Head on over and see what these awesome ladies have been inspired to write after listening to “The Hammer’s Coming Down”…
Bronwyn Green | Gwendolyn CeaseJessica De La Rosa | Kayleigh Jones
Kellie St. JamesKris Norris | Paige Prince


February Song Writing Prompt – “Angels of the Silences”

 This week’s song is “Angels of the of the Silences” by Counting Crows. As much as I love this song, it was a tough one to write a piece on. But I did it! 🙂 I actually went back to Michael and Aric – the two men from the first song fic – because it seemed to fit where they were. Particularly these lines…

Why’d you leave me ’till I’m only good for…
Waiting for you
All my sins…
I said that I would pay for them if I could come back to you

So, first, have a listen then see what it all means for Michael and Aric.

He’s falling apart, Aric. He’s lost without you. I’m so worried about him.

“Fuck.” Aric Brewer punched the mattress then rolled over onto his back, every muscle tight, quivering with… Hell if he knew what. There was too much coursing through him. Anger, confusion, grief, yearning… He clenched his fists. He wasn’t going down that road. He wasn’t going to lay here night after night wishing for something he couldn’t have, so he grasped onto something he could deal with. The anger. Oh yeah, that he could do well.

Aric brushed aside the annoyance he felt at Trina for coming to him with her brother’s current problems. After all, she wasn’t the only one who had looked at him with sad eyes and lamented on how the break up had been so hard on Michael.

Christ, he’d just wanted to celebrate his friend’s engagement like a normal person. He didn’t fucking need this. Why was it on him how Michael was doing? Why was that Aric’s problem? He wasn’t the one who broke it off, who threw it all away.

Everyone was so worried about poor Michael falling apart, but he was the one who decided they were done, who pushed Aric away and refused to speak to him. That was on Michael. “Poor Michael” created this fucking mess and could get himself out of it. Aric owed him nothing. He had to pick up the pieces for himself and get on with his life, and Michael would have to do the same. He would have to…

Aric drew in a deep but ragged breath when Michael’s face flashed in his mind for the millionth time that day. His beautiful face that used to make Aric’s heart race, but now…now, just made it ache.

Deflated, Aric got out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom. Sleep. He needed sleep and a break from that fucking face. He grabbed the pills his doctor had prescribed a little over a month ago when he’d been desperate for the solid night’s rest that had eluded him since he’d been shoved out the door. He washed two tablets down before returning to his cold, empty bed. He struggled to keep his mind clear as the medication did it work, grasping him tightly and pulling him into the blessed black he sought. But, as he went into the darkness, he couldn’t help but hope that Michael’s continued to be just as cold and just as empty since the day he threw Aric away.

* * * * *

Aric stared up at the house. His house. Their house. He snorted. Michael’s house. That’s what it was now. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering wheel. He’d been sitting here, parked on the street, for the last fifteen minutes, attempting to prepare himself for what he was about to do.

Confronting Michael had never been something Aric planned to do. Ever. He’d told himself if wasn’t worth it, that if Michael wanted him out of his life, Aric would oblige. After all, he thought bitterly, he’d never been able deny Michael anything he really wanted.

The decision to do this, now, was entirely selfish. He wanted to be able to tell Trina, to tell them all to back the fuck off of him, because he tried. Not that he was foolish enough to expect anything to change by talking to Michael but he would be able to say he made the effort. Maybe, just maybe, this would bring him a small measure of closure, and he’d be able to move on. And not hurt so much. He really, really wanted to stop hurting so damned much.

Gathering his anger close to him, draping it over the pain like a cloak, he got out of the car and strode determinedly to the house. If he had to take a few deep breaths as he rang the doorbell and stood before the door that had once been his to walk through happily and freely, it wasn’t something he acknowledged.

Clenching and unclenching his fists, he waited for Michael to answer. Impatiently, he pushed the bell again and again. He was probably still in bed. Aric nearly smiled as he thought of Michael’s habit of sleeping in whenever possible, catching himself before thinking too fondly of the man who’d broken his heart.

“Should have known you’d—” The door banged against the wall as Michael stood in just inside, gaping at Aric.

“Rise and shine,” Aric said with false cheer as he moved around Michael and made his way inside.

He came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the living room and surveyed the absolute mess that surrounded him. He’d thought Trina had been exaggerating. Truthfully, he’d hoped she’d been exaggerating about just how difficult a time Michael had been doing.

“What are you doing here?” Michael snapped from just inside the room. “Did Trina send you?”

“No, but given the state of this place…” Aric turned to him. It was a struggle to school his expression, because, son of a bitch, the cloak of anger fell away. Dissolved at the sight of Michael—his Michael—so very clearly on the edge. He swallowed and continued, “And the state of you, she should have. Long before now.”

Michael shoved his hands through his black hair, causing the already tousled locks to stand on end. He wouldn’t meet Aric’s eyes, gaze darting around the room, a flush rising on his cheeks.

“Why are you here now?” he asked. “It’s been two months, why now?”

Aric steeled himself, not in defense this time, but because he knew the last thing Michael needed was to be fussed over, babied. He never reacted well to that.

“You no-showed Oliver’s engagement party.” He glanced around the room, brow lifted. “Though it looks like you had a little party of your own, and seems to be a regular occurrence. I wanted to make sure you were all right. None of our friends have seen you recently. Oliver hand only heard from you when you called to bail on him. I was worried.”

“Well, as you can see, I’m alive and fine. So…” Michael waved toward the front door.

“Alive, yes. Fine…” He sighed heavily. “Hardly.”

“You have seen me in months, so you can’t really be the judge of that, can you?”

The hurt in Michael’s voice, in his wide gray eyes, gutted Aric. Nearly brought him to his knees.

“I’m the best judge of that. I know you better than anyone. And right now, sweetheart,” he walked across the room to stand in front of Michael, “you’re a mess.”

Michael’s lips trembled a moment before he pressed them together in a thin line. Aric’s anger rose again, hot and strong, but it wasn’t directed at the man before him. It was all focused back at himself. All this time, he’d been waiting and wondering, waiting on a sign that Michael was moving on—either back toward Aric or to someone else—and wondering how he could have shoved Aric away so thoughtlessly. Waiting and wondering instead of realizing he was the one who needed to do something. He should have known that. Should have seen that Michael was hurting, drowning in his grief.


The word, though whispered, jolted Aric from his thoughts. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t pretend you care.” Michael took a step back, gaze firmly on a point just past Aric’s left shoulder.

“I’m not pretending. I do care. I’ve always cared.”

“You don’t,” he snarled. “If you did, you wouldn’t have—”

He snapped his mouth shut and turned on his heel, practically running down the hallway to their…his bedroom. Aric didn’t hesitate to follow, pushing the door back open before it had a chance to latch. Michael stood, hands braced on the dresser, head hanging low. His shoulders shook as he struggled to breathe. Aric held himself back, denied the urge, the need to go to him.

“I wouldn’t have what?” he demanded.

“Walked away!” Michael shouted, straightening and spinning around. “I know, okay? I know I told you to leave, but you just walked away without a glance back. Like I was worth nothing. Like I wasn’t worth fighting for. You proved him right, Aric.”

The way his voice broke at the end pushed Aric forward, and he grasped the other man’s arms.

“Stop it,” he hissed. “Do not bring him into this. Into us.”

“There’s no us anymore.” Michael’s breath hitched. “And that was the problem. He was always there.”

“No.” Aric shook his head. “You pushed him out when he didn’t accept me, didn’t accept you, but for some reason when he died, you let him back in. And that was the beginning of the end, wasn’t it? Your bastard of a father managed to succeed in death where he failed in life—our relationship effectively died with him.”

“You don’t understand,” Michael whispered.

“You didn’t give me a chance to understand. You shut me out then you kicked me out. I gave you what you wanted. I walked away, but if you think it was without a backward glance, you couldn’t be more wrong.” He released one arm to cup Michael’s face. “I never stopped looking back, sweetheart. You just weren’t paying attention.”

These two are living in my head and will likely be the subject of most if not all of my song fics. I hope you like them as much as I do!

Head on over and see what these awesome ladies have been inspired to write after listening to “Angels of the Silences…
Bronwyn Green | Jessica De La Rosa | Kris Norris