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They always had an odd relationship, ever since they met in kindergarten. They weren’t friends; they hated each other too much, but they weren’t enemies; their bond was too strong. They were brothers by bond not blood, but also something bigger, incomprehensible. But they didn’t tell anyone. When adults saw them playing together they always asked if they were friends. They responded by telling the grownups that they hated each other, their hands were gripping the other’s tightly. Then the two were asked if they were friends. Ezra and Anthony weren't quite sure if that was the right word to explain their relationship, but they nodded and gave an innocent grin.
It was true that they hated each other, it ran deeper than the sea, and they could feel it in their bones. It made their joints ache as they each grappled and tugged, they could feel it under their skin that was covered in bruises from continuous fights. After these fights they would both sit down, fondly tracing each bruise, commenting on how pretty they looked. Ezra thought that maybe it was these moments he liked best; hot and sweaty, skin aching with the slightest pressure and Anthony’s fingers tracing lines into his skin. They were always careful to not break bone, because then the fun would have to stop. And the game couldn’t ever stop.
It was almost a game; who could hurt the other more.
They were thirteen when Ezra cut Anthony’s palm. Anthony, in turn, cut Ezra’s. But Ezra reached out for the lithe boy’s wrist and gently brought the cut palm to his mouth to place a gentle kiss upon it. It was breaking the cycle, they only apologized once both of them had given it all they got. They only stopped when the other was ready to give in, bruises and minor scrapes covering their youthful skin. Anthony never cried. He didn’t cry even as blood dripped onto the ground, he didn’t cry as Ezra’s chapped lips caused the cut to burn instead of soothe as it was meant to. He didn’t cry because he was going to break Ezra back.
It was almost a game; who could break the other most.
They were 15 and they fought more than ever. They fought more than ever and they were closer than before. They were 15 and they wore their bruises with pride, and an itch to hurt creeping under their skin. Every gentle gesture had an edge to it, whether it be a grip on their arms where the nails dug in too deep or a kiss with too much bite. Ezra said he hated Anthony and Anthony replied that he hated Ezra more. Ezra provoked Anthony more but Anthony always came away on top. Anthony might be calm and collected but once the blood started to spill he made Ezra burn in the best way. They would break apart with dirt smeared across clothes and blood smeared across skin.
It was almost a game; who could bleed the most.
Ezra was 19 and he couldn’t believe that Anthony got in with him. They both applied to the same college, and both got in. Well, Ezra had to help a lot but he felt better about it. It proved Anthony’s reliance on him. But he knows that he had to rely on Anthony just as much, that thought irks him and he lets the itch build up until he explodes later that night. When he tugged the blond boy to look at something, he didn’t hesitate to sink his nails into his best friend's arm. Now he was curled up next to Anthony, thumb brushing the marks. He suddenly leaned over a bit and kissed it. Anthony opened his eyes and closed them when he saw Ezra kiss his wound, that night his mouth curled into a content smile.
_____________
They were 20, and had taken a small break. It had only been a week or two and Anthony had been feeling bored, it was mind numbing and made a hollowness fill his chest. They hadn’t even exchanged words, those words that made Anthony feel safe in their routine. The itching filled his fingers and ate away at his mind. It made his movements jerky and harsh, but he refused to call Ezra.
Ezra wasn’t sure how he survived those two weeks. It was a blur of ‘not-Anthony’s and ‘wishhewashere’s. But he gave in and called Anthony, he needed Anthony like he needed oxygen. He gave in but that’s okay, he was met with the same desperation. He knew that they would put themselves through this again, relishing in the almost-pain of not having the other close. He knew that even though he gave in first, Anthony needed him most.
It was almost a game; who needed the other most.
They were 21 (Anthony’s birthday) and drunk. Ezra wanted Anthony and Anthony wanted some blonde bitch. It was not acceptable, they were only each others. They had been together since they were 5 and no one has ever captured Anthony’s attention with a sway of hips and a sly smile. Well, other than Ezra, but that wasn’t the same.
Ezra drank at the bar, sulking but not stopping his inebriated friend. Let him be, he told himself, it's his night. Do not mistake his passiveness as acceptance, he wouldn’t let his friend go so quickly. If he had to share it with some blonde who will break Anthony’s heart so be it, it will just secure his unmovable place by his side. After watching Anthony leave with the girl he stumbled outside, hailing a taxi.
When Ezra woke up at midnight, it was to a body crawling under the covers. He didn’t move, anger tensing his muscles. A toned body pressed in close exchanging Ezra’s warmth for Anthony’s cold. Ezra begrudgingly wrapped Anthony up in his arms, happy that his best friend had a nice night.
“Did you have a nice time with her?” His voice was rough with sleep, and sounded too loud in the quiet of the night.
Anthony shook his head, which caused it to spin but he would be fine now that he got to Ezra.
“Why? What was wrong?” Concern filled his voice and all sleep left him.
“She wasn’t you,” Anthony sleepily mumbled before drifting off, unaware of the spark of joy and possessiveness that filled Ezra’s body.
Of course not silly, Ezra thought. No one can replace me, just as no one can replace you.
That was the unspoken rule of the game.
They were 25 and in love. No, not love, something stronger. Love was wanting a person, love was soft and slow. What they had was needing a person, it was cruel and harsh in its intensity. It was just as punishing as Ezra’s thrusts and just as sweet as Anthony’s blood. It was the thing that let them unravel, making them tear at each other until they were sobbing with pleasure and laughing with pain. Sometimes it was the only thing holding them together.
This thing is what made them bruise and bleed, made Anthony grab a fistful of Ezra’s hair. It was the same thing that made them hug and kiss. Filling them up with a rush of emotions and it wasn’t anything anyone else could imagine but there they were. It was like they were forever bonded. If the two of them were ever reincarnated, a thousand times over they would find each other in every life.
So they were 25 and in something better than love.
_________
Ezra was 26 and Anthony was still 25. But that’s okay, his birthday is in 2 weeks. Right now they are pretending nothing exists other than Anthony’s tongue and Ezra’s sweaty flesh. They pretend that they are 13 again and this is their first time, that they only just figured that Ezra liked the yellow-green of a bruise and thought Anthony looked best with a red hickey on his collar bone. They pretend that they only just learned that Anthony preferred harsh and fast, that Ezra looked better with scratches down his back and a few bite marks. After, they lay all sweaty and happy, the world slowly expanding beyond themselves. But that's a lie, because even on a normal day nothing exists outside of their togetherness.
Later they would celebrate Anthony’s birthday in the same way. They didn’t ever get each other presents, cake was unwanted (they could always get it another day), and no party was planned. All they needed was a day off to laze about, exchanging kisses and declaring their affections. Sometimes they rolled around on the floor, blood smearing across skin and bruises forming, praising each other’s handiwork.
It was almost a game; which birthday will triumph over the others.
Ezra was 29 and too alone. He felt as though he couldn’t breathe, he was drowning on air and he was far too alone. His throat was tight and his eyes red, he refused to move. He didn’t want to risk feeling that emptiness, maybe if he didn’t move he could pretend. But there was a knock at the door and he got up.
A kind face peered at him, watching Ezra stare at him dully before slamming the door shut. Dejectedly the man left, leaving Ezra to mourn. Ezra closed his eyes, too drained to deal with anything else.
He was back in that wretched room, watching red bleed into the white sheets. He was sure that this much red didn’t look good on Anthony, not like the red that stained his teeth when he bit too hard. Ezra kissed him gently, soothingly like he did when they were 14 and Anthony thought that his parents would get divorced. Ezra kissed Anthony like he had when they were 18 and Anthony thought they would go to different universities. Ezra kissed Anthony with something stronger than love and promises of forevers and always. They exchanged declarations of affection.
Ezra couldn’t look away as everything erupted into chaos, he couldn’t look away as Anthony’s breath hitched and the light dimmed in his eyes. He couldn’t look away from the blood that covered Anthony’s bottom lip. He couldn’t look away as Anthony said his last sentence.
Ezra jolted up, tears in his eyes and breath hitching. He didn’t want to play anymore. His throat was tight and hurt, holding back sobs. He ran out of the door, and down the street, unable to stay in the room (in that home) that the two of them shared. He arrived at the bridge, panting and sniffling and a hollowness filled his chest and he sobbed his heart out.
“It was almost a game, yeah?” Anthony coughed. “Who would live the longest.”
ALTERNATIVE ENDING: (if you want)
They were 50, limbs aching with arthritis and they were still in something stronger than love. While other couples got divorced or fell out of love, they held on strong, clinging to each other until fragile bones were nearly crushed.
Nothing changed, except when the itch came back it was with bitter words instead of bruising. They still curled up on the same bed, whispering stories as though they were ten again. They still smiled and laughed and kissed with the same brightness that they had in their youth. They kept trying to out do each other, whether it be at their work (they of course worked in the same department of the same company)or in their general lives. They attempted to out do each other in their romantic lives as well, bringing home lavish gifts and sweet treats.
It was almost a game; who could show they love the other more.
They were 80 and they don’t remember much. They don’t remember lazy summer days spent by the beach, sipping on cold lemonade. Ezra does remember that on his 56th birthday that someone had given him a chain necklace, there was a ring on it. On the ring the name Anthony was engraved.
Anthony remembers when he was 15 and Ezra convinced him to go for a midnight drive. The result was a funny story to tell around the dinner table. Anthony doesn’t remember last week that he and Ezra went to their favorite ice cream store.
But they do remember yesterday, and the day before yesterday as well. They remember that they love each other and that it wasn’t love but something stronger. They remember that they will forever meet each other in different lives, and they remember that nothing looks better than Anthony in red or nothing tastes better than Ezra in the morning. They may not remember each other's names some days but it was okay because they remembered it on others.
It was almost a game; who could remember the most.
But as long as they remember they both know that the game will end in a tie.