✾ Chrysanthemum ✾

It was cold up there, dark. I hadn't spent a lot of time on top of buildings because we'd always lived in a little cottage beside the beach. But now that mom was gone, off to the city it was.

I had relatives that lived in New York. They were overly decent people, the kind of people that were so two-dimensional you weren't sure if they were real humans or aliens who'd seen a television ad with a stereotypical happy family and were doing their best to impersonate it. I was pretty sure they were scheming to destroy the earth; nobody was that perfect.

Well, not perfect. When I'd gone to them for help, my only remaining relatives had made it clear that they were collectively Satan. They—and I mean she, my aunt—didn't want me around. She was worried about the impact it would have on her perfect little blonde children. Why? Not because I was a gangster or tangled up with drugs or was secretly dismembering animals in the backyard.

No, it was worse than that. It was because I was openly gay. Gasp.
Apparently, that was a worse sin than animal dismemberment to them.

I had never been genuinely ashamed of it. When I figured myself out, I'd simply told my mom. She'd basically said that it was no big deal, that she'd love me no matter what. With a playful wink, she jokingly said that she maybe even loved me a bit more for it. I miss that bubble we used to live in together. It was so small but so safe. 

I smiled at the memory as I dangled my legs off of the ledge. It was a far way down, but I wasn't afraid of heights. I sighed. Maybe my last memory should be something happy like that, like my beautiful mother winking at me with a mischievous smile.

"You be brave, then, my Beau," she'd said when I'd come out. "You've got to be."

I stood up, crossing my arms over my chest. I closed my eyes, feeling the wind. This was it. It should have been grand, shouldn't it? The end of my life. The end of my life! It didn't sound real. Didn't sound right.

Or maybe that was wishful thinking. Why should something insignificant, a blip in the universe, end with a bang? But still...something about this moment felt unfinished, imperfect. I didn't feel brave. I just felt empty.

"Hey, Copper! What the hell do you think you're doing?" The sound of his voice travelled up the building, bouncing off the walls of the alley until it reached me echoey and distant. I opened my eyes. No one had ever called me Copper before, but I somehow knew that he was talking to me.

I looked down to the street, far below me, to see a man standing there. His head was craned so that he could see up the facade of the building. He was wearing a beanie hat and a shirt that revealed his arms, which were heavily tattooed. "What it looks like," I yelled back down to the man. 

The man was far away, so I couldn't see much, but he lowered his head for a moment. When he looked back up, he stuck his hands in his pockets and shouted, "If you come down here, I'll show you something amazing."

That sounded sketchy. Something amazing? I frowned. This guy was probably a pervert, and as soon as I went down to meet him, he'd whip out everything I didn't need to see. This guy didn't look like the sort of person I would want to follow. 

But honestly...I was grateful he'd called out to me. An excuse. An acknowledgement. A little bit of contact with the world which only a moment ago had seemed so ambivalent. A peculiar hint of courage blew in on the wind, and I wondered if it was my mom. "What is it?" I asked, curious.

He didn't say anything at first, and I couldn't quite hear him properly over the sound of the city and the whistle of the wind. He shook his head with a shrug. "You'll have to come down to see." Then he added, as if suddenly realizing his mistake, "The slow way!"

I frowned again and shook my hair out so it covered my face a bit, returning to the safety of the rooftop. As soon as I planted my feet, I realized that I wouldn't have done it. I would have just ended up sitting on the ledge for hours, trying and failing to ignore the part of me that could see past my grief and still knew there was something out there. I didn't feel like anyone would have cared, but my mom had shown me that there was an intrinsic worth in life itself.
My face flushed out of embarrassment. She would have been disappointed. 

I pulled out my phone as I bounded down the stairs on my way back to ground level, eager to escape what I'd just done. The stairwell creaked with age and lack of upkeep. Now that there would be consequences, I was mildly worried about tetanus. It was twilight now, but I was pretty sure I'd get a good shot. Or, as good a shot as my shitty phone camera could manage.

When I left the building, I crept silently around the corner to where the man had been standing. I peeked around the edge and saw him leaning against the rough brick wall. He wasn't at all what I'd been expecting. I felt something stir in the pit of my stomach. Something familiar. I clenched my jaw tightly.

The stranger had dark black hair that spilled out from beneath his black hat. His face was somewhat in shadow, but I could tell that he was at least partially of some Asian ancestry. His catlike eyes were black pits that tilted up at the corners; they made me feel like he'd be able to see right into me. What exactly he'd discover about me, I wasn't so sure. It was hard to tell, but there was no passive hostility in his expression, only gentle awareness.

There was a birthmark, a tiny mole, above his lips, lips of a brilliantly bursting red color. They looked like they should be speaking poetry or kissing someone. Any other use was just a waste. Except maybe smiling. Tattoos twisted and zig zagged up his neck but stopped short of his face. A lock of hair curled slightly around the curve of his ear.

His legs stretched out in front of him as he leaned calmly against the wall, waiting. Waiting for me, which, for some strange reason, made my usual butterflies stir to life. I have this thing...it's how I first figured out I was gay. Butterflies, dizziness, heart flutters...they come all too easily to me and always had. But just looking at someone had never triggered it before. It usually happened when a guy touched me or when they got close.

"Hey," I said, coming out from my hiding spot. I tried to act casual despite my limbs feeling all floaty.

The man looked up just in time for me to snap a picture of his face. He winced as the flash went off, holding up his hand. "What the-"

"Just in case you're trying to do something to me," I said, shoving my phone safely in my pocket, "I have a picture of your face for the cops."

The guy looked at me in disbelief. "You do realize that if I were actually trying to do something to you, I could just take the phone from you, right?" The disbelief in his expression slowly faded into something unrecognizable to me, but somehow it made me shift awkwardly from one foot to the other. I felt like his stare was something deeply personal, his eyes full of meaning. But just as fluidly as it had begun, it disappeared.

I hesitated and frowned, crossing my arms. "Rude." The lightness of our conversation felt out of place, but it was reassuring to feel a bizarre, immediate connection with someone. 

He laughed, a low sound that reminded me of chocolate and morning dew for some reason. In that order. Fuck. "Guess I can't blame you for being careful. It's New York, after all. Name's Ren," he said, holding out his hand.

I eyed it for a long moment, observing the flowering vine that twisted up his forearm, and then slowly reached out. "Beau."

Ren raised an eyebrow. "Beau?"

I frowned. "My mom's crazy." I heard my voice catch as I dropped Ren's hand. I looked at the ground, embarrassed that I'd referred to mom in the present tense by accident again. It was hard. Everything was.

"Ok, then, Copper. It's not far," he said, shoving his hands back in his pockets and turning to leave. I watched him go for a second. He was just as attractive from behind, with his broad shoulders and tight body.

I shook my head and bounded to catch up with Ren. I felt my cheeks heating up. Damn, I had to calm down. "What is it?" I asked, staring at Ren as he walked.

Well, it was more like a saunter. Ren seemed to just sort of drift places. He just stayed still and the world shifted around him. I had never met anyone like him who was so viscerally imposing from first sight. It was intoxicating to watch. "My masterpiece," Ren said, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye with a knowing sparkle.

"You're an artist?" I asked, surprised. I couldn't help my voice rising a bit in excitement.

Ren nodded. "Sort of."

"Sort of?" I asked. It seemed like Ren had a story, and I wanted to unearth it. Maybe just as a distraction...but the reason for my fascination didn't really matter. I just wanted to sink into it.

Ren nodded again in affirmation. "Sort of."

I crossed my arms as I walked. "Ok."

"You sound disappointed," Ren said, smirking as we turned the corner.

I shrugged. "I'm just glad you're not taking me to a sex den or something."

He stopped walking, and I skidded to a stop. Ren's eyes were wide. He placed a dramatic hand on his chest. "Do I look like someone who'd have a sex den?"

I looked Ren up and down again, and my short answer was yes, actually. He was gorgeous and he looked exactly like the kind of person who was simply a god in bed, who would lure women in as easily as a single wink. Not that I knew anything about that, but still. I smiled, choosing the polite route. "Nope."

Ren frowned. "Well, ok then. But you took way too long to answer that question." He leaned absurdly close to me, so close that I could see that his irises were basically black. My brain lit up, every one of my senses tuned to Ren's body, his movement, his proximity. Heart pounding. Dizzy. Butterflies. "But you're awfully obsessed with sex, aren't you?"

I blushed. "Wh-I'm no-"

"How old are you, Copper?" Ren asked.

"Nineteen."

He grimaced. "You're young."

I grimaced right back. "I'm not. Why, are you old?"

"I'm twenty-one," Ren replied curtly, then turned to saunter away again. I stared after him yet again, a little frustrated.

"I'm not young," I called after him.

He just waved over his shoulder, not looking back. "You look like a baby." I growled and ran after Ren again. When I caught up, I thumped him on the back in false frustration, more to touch him than anything else. He chuckled.

"Where are we going?" I asked, trying to change the subject. I was following a stranger. It felt like a good question to ask. But I couldn't explain it. I just felt comfortable with what was happening. At least I wasn't still on that roof. 

It struck me that Ren hadn't once said anything about how he'd found me, about what I was doing. No "why were you on the roof?" No "we'd better get you to a therapist." Maybe he just understood.

"My apartment is also my studio," Ren answered.

"That's cool," I said.

He shrugged. "Sort of."

"Sort of," I repeated, smiling slightly. "What do you draw?"

"I paint people," Ren answered. "Mostly." Then he veered off randomly towards the street, dodging past a couple of fast walkers who were staring at their phones. I struggled to keep up. I wasn't used to navigating city sidewalks and roads. When he glanced back to see me a solid ten feet behind, he lingered.

I caught up soon enough and watched as Ren held out his other hand, this one with a snake coiled around it. I raised an eyebrow and he rolled his eyes. "I'd rather not let you get run over. We just met," Ren said, "so come on."

I sighed and took Ren's hand. It was big but strangely cold. I didn't mind it. It sort of felt invigorating to hold his hand. It was much easier navigating the big city with Ren there to guide me.

Strange. For the first time since my mom died, I felt that at least a small part of me was alright. It was a small part, and I knew I'd never be completely alright again. But, for now, this was a nice change.