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There was a stone on the rough ground. Gravel kicked around in an alley. An alley in the city, like millions of others.
It was in this alley that Marc Anciel and Nathaniel Kurtzberg were currently locked in fierce embrace.
One was against the wall. Black hair splayed over brick. Red and black. The other’s was similar, crimson.
Breath tickled an ear as lips swiftly skimmed it. A gasp. Eyes wide, hands gripped tighter.
Pushing back for air. A look of question. A shake of the head, sad smile mixed with warm tear.
A word, silhouetted against the first thunder that wracked the sky. Lip-read as it was whispered, but it was clear enough to the other.
“No.”
No question. No nothing. No.
Marc Anciel walked out shakily as heavy droplets of rain began to fall from the darkening sky.