Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 3

where he lived. Once he disappeared from sight, Jesse knew he'd never see him again. His body moved without any real decision being made and he flung himself through the door after the only man he'd ever loved. He barrelled along the hall and out into the night air. The streets were quiet. There was no sign of Omar. Jesse ran in first one direction then another and another, desperate for some trace of him, but there was nothing. Finding his way back to the house, he closed the door softly and sunk to the floor behind it, numbness creeping through him. Gone. Nothing left. Jesse closed his eyes and let the darkness take him.
    ****
    "Omar?"
    "Hello, Father. I didn't notice you come in."
    "Is everything okay? You look…shady."
    "I, uh… yes, everything is okay. It's tougher than I thought it would be."
    "No one said our job was easy, Omar. Humans can be defiant and hell bent on misery and disaster. We can only guide them so far to happiness; they have to make the choice to take it for themselves."
    "What if the reason they are miserable is because we showed them the wrong path? What if they reached out to take the treasure but we took it away from them and left them broken?"
    "Then you must fix it."
    "How?"
    "Go within, son. You will find the answer. We, too, are guided when we lose sight of the way."
    "Have you ever met the ones that guide us, Father?"
    "Once, aeons ago. A being of such incredible strength with a light that outshone the world."
    "He outshone even our world?"
    "Oh yes, by many powers of magnitude. The city faded to shades of grey and the human world was nothing but darkness beneath."
    "And what did he say?"
    "She said I would have a son and that he would make me very proud."
    "You jest, Father, and it hurts me."
    "Ah, my dear, sweet, Omar. You always were the sensitive one, but I speak the truth, and she was right. I am very proud of you. And your sisters, but particularly of you. You have walked a stony path whilst they have always taken the smooth road."
    "Did you love her?"
    "Of course I did, son. She was your mother."
    "I'm not from the nursery?"
    "Ssssh, it is not common knowledge. These things only happen rarely."
    "So my whole existence is wrong. No wonder I make so many mistakes."
    "I will not hear you speak that way. Life is never wrong."
    "But we're told we must keep the balance, stay in our own worlds."
    "And sometimes the balance needs to be redressed and an infusion of light from above is required to keep things ticking over. It is the way. It is natural, it is beautiful, and the results," his father touched a hand to Omar's cheek, "are dazzling. Now, tell me what troubles you so."
    Omar smiled. His first genuine, heartfelt smile since leaving Jesse's side the day before. Almost two months in Jesse's world. Two months that had seen Jesse retreat into a well of sadness and pain that played out in Omar's every breath. A bottomless pit of despair that he had to right. He had to.
    ****
    Jesse was so used to the apparitions of Omar leaning against the wall outside the apartment that he didn't even jump anymore when he rounded the hall and caught sight of him. He had to admit this one was particularly shiny and lifelike, the smile extra gorgeous, the look in his eye a little coy, and this time even that glorious smell surrounded him.
    "Jesse, can we talk?"
    That was new too. He'd never managed to conjure a speaking Omar, although the last words they'd spoken repeated over and over in his head, day after day. Jesse unlocked the door and stepped into his apartment with a sigh.
    "Jesse? Would you rather I left?"
    Jesse looked up into the face he thought he'd remembered so well but this time it was clearer, the sparkle was back, accompanied by the strange edge of confusion that had always made him smile, and he couldn't help it, he body slammed his pretend Omar with an audible umph against the wall. His fingers tangled in the silky black mane; his mouth sought out the perfect lips etched into his memory from the months spent staring at them. Oh, god, he tasted so real. Jesse lost himself in the illusion, revelled in his ability to create something so perfect and independent of his own imagination, because this Omar apparition was kneading Jesse's butt cheeks. This Omar was probing tentatively past Jesse's lips with a curious tongue. This Omar was gasping lightly every time Jesse tweaked a nipple, was pushing out with his hips and a definite hardness in his jeans Jesse had never felt before.
    Jesse