Lifestream

Sat, 19 May 2007 04:06:05 GMT

The walk to Zack's apartment was relatively quick and painless, and Zack only pushed him out from under the umbrella twice, so was only semi-soaked when the dark-haired man let them in the front door. Unzipping his jacket, Phoenix hung the dripping article on the coat-rack. He kicked off his shoes and flipped his lyric book open on a nearby table, making sure all the pages were intact. Once satisfied, he straightened, running a hand through his wet hair. He tugged uncomfortably at the black shirt that was plastered to his chest, then shrugged and pulled it off.

Stripping off his jacket and hanging it beside Phoenix's, Zack spun around to ask his new guest a question. But he just stared. Little drops of water were beading up and running down Phoenix's skin, slipping into the grooves and outlines of his muscles. Zack gulped. "You, uh..." He cleared his throat and forced his stunned gaze upward to catch Phoenix's amused expression. He tried again. "You, uh...wanna take a shower and put on some dry clothes? You look freezing."

"Well I wouldn't be if you hadn't shoved me out into the rain." Phoenix said with mock seriousness, running a hand over his chest to remove some of the stray drops. "But yes, I'd actually appreciate a shower more than you know."

"Follow me." Zack made a sweeping bow and led the way through the living room and down the short hallway. And suddenly he wondered just how long Phoenix had been sleeping out in the street. Probably since the day he'd come over from Finland, however long ago that had been. Shaking his head, he banished the thoughts. They didn't do any good since he couldn't exactly ask. "If you didn't want to get wet, you shouldn't have called me an arrogant son of a bitch," he pointed out over his shoulder. Quite reasonably, he thought.

"I said you were acting like one." Phoenix corrected him as he followed him down the hall. "I didn't say you were one."

Zack waved his hand dismissively, stopping at the bathroom door. "A philosophical difference, that's all. Towels are in the closet to the left; soap and shampoo are in the shower. There's even an extra toothbrush in the mirror cabinet if you want it. I'll find you some clothes to throw on for now. If you leave the door unlocked, I can just set them in here for you."

"Okay, thanks." Phoenix just stood there for a moment as Zack left, closing the dooor behind him. Sometimes the turns of life were a marvel. He'd just met this guy last night, and now, here he was, early the next morning, using the guy's shower. He sighed and decided just to be grateful. Reaching into the shower, he twisted the knobs, letting the temperature warm up as he stripped off the last of his clothes. Draping his wet jeans over the shower rod, he stepped in and pulled the curtain back into place. Phoenix released a groan of pleasure as the deliciously hot water cascaded down over his body, warming him in a way he hadn't felt for far too long. A yellow truck. Warming rays after years of cold and stone. A warm, solidly real body next to him. "We're friends, right?..."

Phoenix's head snapped up as the door opened and Zack stuck his head in.

"Hey," Zack called out as he opened the door. "I've got some clothes for you. They'll probably be too big, but at least they're dry. They're right inside the door." Setting the clothes on a little black table just beside the bathroom door, Zack ducked back out and closed the door softly behind him.

Phoenix quickly washed his hair and scrubbed the remaining filth from his skin, then recluctantly shut the water off with a sigh. After toweling off, he went in search of the prementioned toothbrush. After a thorough brush and rinse, Phoenix grinned at himself in the mirror. He hadn't felt this clean, this good in a long time. He'd have to remember to thank Zack one day.

*****

Zack settled himself on the couch with his favorite guitar as he waited for Phoenix to finish up in the shower. Most of the room was given up to his music equipment, but he did have a couch. Facing the band set, of course. He also had a couple of chairs and a small table strewn about the room, but no television. That was in the bedroom with the PS2. Tuning his Fender, he looked around at the music posters plastered across his walls. The walls were white, unfortunately, but the posters mostly covered them up. Grinning at his Evanescence poster, Zack started playing the opening bars of "My Tourniquet," one of his favorites.

"I'm dying. I'm praying. I'm bleeding. And screaming. Am I too lost to be saved? Am I too lost? Phoenix's rich tenor mingled with Zack's light strumming as he entered the room, dressed in the faded blue jeans, white tank top, and light blue sweater Zack had been kind enough to loan him. He settled himself on the other end of the couch, crushing the tiny twinge of jealousy he felt over the room full of expensive instruments. "Somehow, I could have pegged you for an Evanescence man."

"The girl's got a great voice. And her music...deliciously dark. Ethereal, in a way." Zack grinned. "You're looking awfully pleased with yourself about something."

Phoenix shook his head, a small smile playing over his lips. He didn’t answer, instead he let his focus center on the guitar in Zack’s hands. “Do you have an extra one of those?”

"Sure." Zack shrugged, his fingers strumming absently over the strings. "I've also got a bass and an acoustic. They're all over there behind the drums, so just take your pick."

Standing, Phoenix made his way over to where Zack had designated. Pushing aside a speaker and a few stacks of music, he slowly lifted the acoustic guitar from it's stand. Plugging himself into the amp, he settled back on the couch. He gave it a few thrums, testing and adjusting the strings. Once he was satisfied, he began to play, a gentle, mystical sounding tune. His voice was low as he let his words fill the song's seductive call. "Returning alone to a point in yesterday to become a man you weren’t born to be, replacing what’s inside with a foreign soul. Damned as the incomplete piece to a whole. Run through with sacrifice. Dead while alive. A soulless journey ceaseless. Returning."