it's in my Nature

It is only as a refresher that I start somewhere in the middle of where I last left off, at the meeting of Jack and Trevor.

It was a day like any other, nothing to set it apart from the one before and the one after. The sun rose and set at its allotted time, the moon made her presence known according to the cycle, and Jack woke up, went to class, and came home at times not too different from what he was accustomed to.

Monotonous, to be true, but that was but the structure in which events were placed, the framework that held instances of excitement and emotion.

Trevor came near the edge of this frame, close to the time when the sun and moon could share the sky, at that time when the day meets the night. Such symbolism there, such metaphor, but I’m not concerned with that at this point. Their meeting was chance, a wayward look on a bus that for reasons unknown seemed to linger between them. The glance turned into a smile, and the smile soon became a conversation. Words were shared, bringing with them implications of ideas and interests and inspirations.

Jack missed his stop, he was in so deep.

Trevor apologized. He did that lots, even when he wasn’t at fault. He would lower his eyes and say, ‘I’m sorry,’ almost as if to take the blame from those around him.

Selfless, or helpless?

I’m not sure which one he considered himself, if either, but Jack placed him closer to the helpless end of the scale, even after having but one quick conversation with the kid. He was attentive to those sorts of things, especially with Trevor. Usually it requires a miracle for Jack to look you in the eye for more than a few seconds, his own gaze dancing about, looking everywhere but at the eyes of his audience.

But his muddy eyes were locked with Trevor’s.

Eyes are often said to be windows into the soul. They also happen to be windows through a mask, the one aspect that betrays the unnatural construction. Jack saw his own eyes reflected in Trevor’s, saw both their unmasked selves in a single instant.

He saw me, I think, but if he did it was only a glimpse, a piece, a feature that couldn’t define the rest of the whole. He searched, though. He must have thought he could find me in those eyes, so he continued to peer upon their surface.

Now the question is am I speaking of Jack, or of Trevor?

I take refuge in ambiguity, and I assure you that it’s quite conscious.

The End

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