brenton the nights child Vanished, he was. No sight, no sound, no trace. Presumed to have absent mindedly wandered away to seek out some new form of entertainment, some expression of agression or a challenge not yet tested. My concern for his wellbeing was tempered by my absolute faith that he was possibly the most capable and resourceful person I'd ever met, yet also fed by my sad puppy dog like search for him, gazing mopily down each darkened alley we passed. Gone 5 minutes, gone 15 minutes, gone 40 minutes. He would surely be escaped now from this mad city bustle, or so far buried in it that I would never be able to trace his trail. I eventually floated home, with a few final, furtive, unfruitful glances down dark alley ways to appease my now hyperactive urge to protect him. Past the rowdy pub where I had envisioned his violent exodus, on tippi toes peering through windows: nothing. Down an empty street, metres from the ruckus yet devoid of life, drenched in the tranquil calm of the eve. Round the corner and to my well lit haven. The foyer beeped meekly, the heavy glass doors, the outer then the inner, clunking such as you feel glass just shouldn't. As I passed through the second doorway, making my slow way towards the lift, I held in my mind a pleasant vision of a lost and disoriented, beautiful, young man curled up against my door awaiting tenderly my arrival. Dismissing my happy fancy I played the lift button's happy beep and took to dancing in front of the full length mirror as I am oft to do in my happy new home. The slow lift provided me only with more time to bathe my mind in the pretty image of my lost and lonely boy curled up on my stoop. Arrival at floor 8, slowly depart the lift so as not to shatter my fancy so fast, rounding the corner extra slow. What ho have we here? No boy, lost and lonely, curled up upon my stoop. But standing, though leaning heavily, arm raised as if to knock on my door. Beaming light instantly emanates from my radiant smile, unable to be hindered, though absurd I know it must look. He still disoriented, party has departed. I let him in and he follows, perhaps as much due to confusion as anything, or perhaps to prove solidly to his own confused state that the party has, indeed, left. Some 1 hour, perhaps 2 passed. We talked and we spoke and we met of our minds. Conversations barely recalled, but I in awe of him every second. Our differences aired, but barely touched upon really. Have we nothing at all in common? A love of roaming the streets in the hours of darkness, when the streets are our own and WE are the only strangers to fear. Fearlessness. Perhaps this too is a common theme. And that is all. But I am now just intrigued all the more. Can I help myself? I don't know. I certainly restrained myself. Like admiring a bird that has inadvertently landed on one's windowsill, I stayed ever so still, just to admire nature's gift. He spoke of leaving several times and yet he stayed, though I fear that was more out of politeness than of want. I could never really bring myself to agree with his idea to leave. And now there is a craving brewing in my stomach. A craving that I feed by writing this here and allowing my thoughts to indulge and wallow in his images and my memories. Indulgences egged on by eager and over-supportive girlfriends. What pain awaits me next, I wonder? 101004 ... ░ ░░░░░░ ░ ░░░░░░ 101005 ... the nights child I want to fucking BURN myself 101021 ... the nights child So, I've gradually been making a fool of myself over the past several days, culminating on Saturday night when I waltzed past him casuallly in the crowded bar at about 2am and said "You know I'm in love with you right?", to which he replied "Yup" and we both continued in our opposite paths of direction. I later snogged one of his co-workers in a very-much public section of the bar. Yessir, this lady is all class. 101121 ... the nights child After being back for a month and spending numerous nights at my old haunt (though not as numerous as before) he finally sauntered past the window and proceeded to have some kind of 'discussion' with a girl, whilst I surruptitiously looked on out of the corner of my eye, whilst I pretended to pay attention to the game of pool. Eventually the girl gave up and he came in for a chat. After a while I told him that he didn't need to hang around me just to be polite, after all, he had other mates floating around in the pub. Nevertheless, we stayed chatting on the sofa for ages, until at last we both decided to call it a night, and he unobjectingly caved to my cheeky request for a lift home, even though it was completely out of the way for him. The next day there was absolutely no wiping the smile off of my face, as though our friendship was something more deep and intimate than simply platonic and, at times, mildly awkward when I get a little drunk and get a little forward. I've not smiled like that in months. Thank you. 110829 what's it to you? who go blather from