“Is that your own excuse?” Adam asked, “Or is that Ethan’s reasoning to prevent you from going with him?”
Ron nudged the taller guy, “Shut up, will you?”
Adam said, “Oh, yeah, sorry. I wasn’t really implying anything.”

“Good!” Woody said, still greatly offended, “Cause just so you know. Ethan and I have never been happier. He’s coming back before the 29th so we can celebrate our one year anniversary.”
“Congratulations,” Ron said, “So the past year has been going very well for you?”

“Yes, graduated from high school. Made it through my first semester of college. We’re settled in this new town. Everything’s going alright. Everything’s falling into place. We’re all very happy…living the routine life of a happy couple…”

“Routine?” Ron dropped his jaw, “Have you ever used the word ‘routine’ when you discuss with Ethan about your relationship?”
“Yeah! I have,” Woody brought his brows together, “I’m sure I’ve used that word before. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal…” snorted Adam, “…is that Ethan hates that word ‘routine.’ In his mind, routine means monotony, it means the same thing over and over and over and over and over again. He hates routine. In high school, how many extracurricular activities did he join? There’s football during the fall, track and field during the spring, student government president, Drama Club thespian, the French club. He worked at the comic-book store, he volunteers at the hospital, he volunteered at the nursing home, and he volunteered with Big Brother/Big Sister. As soon as he could, he moved out of his parents’ house to live on his own. All his life, he has jammed packed his days so that he would have no time to think about ‘routine.’”

“And when it comes to relationship,” Ron added, “He’s got the same hang-ups. He tends to break up with people when it begins to feel too routine. I guess you could say, he likes the chase more than the catch.”

Woody retorted, “But my sister! He dated my sister more than two years. Why would he stay with her for so long if he…how’d cha put it?…likes the chase more than the catch?”

“I knew you were going to bring that up,” Adam had an answered already prepared, “But if you think about it…for that last year, she was in different state, miles and miles separated them, so their relationship never felt routine. He never felt trapped. That’s why he never broke up with her.”

“Will you shut up?” Ron growled at Adam, “But it’s not just him, Woody. It’s not just Ethan who has this problem.” Ron nudged at Adam’s shoulder, “It seems all the men of the White family are genetically input to be repulsed by that same word.”

“But…you two are together,” Woody assumed, “How…how do you make it work?”

Ron laughed, “Oh, no. We’re not together. We’re just fuck-buddies.”
Adam added, “No obligations, no attachment, no routine, no problems.”

“The thing about Ethan is…” Ron said, “And I hope you find some comfort in this…is that Ethan is a rare black sheep in the White family. He’s the only one trying to break the family’s mold. He’s the only one trying to fight his nature.”

“Yeah,” Adam agreed, “Most of us Whites are still perfectly happy bachelors. With the exception of Ethan’s dad who, as you can tell, is not in a happy marriage. But Ethan…you have to give him credit, he tries hard to stick with the same person for as long as he can bear it. And I keep telling him, you know, he’s only gonna hurt the person more the longer he stays in the relationship cause it’s doomed to die anyhow.”

“Back when we dated, I’ve suggested for us to have an open relationship,” Ron said, “But you know Ethan. He doesn’t cheat, and he absolutely refuses to invite a third party into the bedroom.”
“Yeah,” Adam interjected, “You see, he’s only digging himself a bigger hole that’s already hard get out of. If he would just listen to my advice. If he would just play the field...he wouldn’t have to hurt anybody. He wouldn’t have to hurt you.”

“Jesus, Adam, just shut up already,” said Ron, “You know what, Woody? I do believe you can change him. I do believe you’re the one who can make him realize that routine is not so bad. You’re the one for him. You are! You have to believe that in yourself. He’s gonna change for the better because of you.”

“Ron, stop giving the guy false hope,” said Adam, “You, yourself, thought you could change him, and guess what, you barely lasted three months,” then he turned back to Woody, determined to get his point across, “Sherwood, listen to me, what I have to tell you may be hard to hear, but it’s the truth. It’s done. It’s over. When he gets back from the trip, he’s gonna break up with you. But not right away, he’s probably gonna sneak in a little sex before he dumps you. And oh, he’s gonna act as if everything’s going fine. Make you your for favorite meal, whatever it is, he’s gonna make tons of it. And then he’s gonna invite you to the living room, sit you down, and start his break up speech. For a guy who hates routine, that’s how it’s always been when he breaks up. If you want to prolong the break up…which I don’t recommend at all…don’t have sex, don’t eat the food, don’t let him sit you down, and he wouldn’t have a chance to give the speech…”

“Yeah, well…thanks for the great enlightening advice. I gotta go…I gotta get outta here…” Woody stood up and fled the sub-sandwich restaurant as fast as he could.

****

The next couple of days went by like a continuous blurry streak for Woody Anderson. He managed to go to his classes…well, at least the ones where attendance counts, and finished his homework in a half-assed manner. At four pm every afternoon when Woody’s classes were over, Ethan would call, sounding perfectly casual, as they talked for at least two hours. On the weekend, they would talk longer. But as soon as Woody got off the phone, he would spend the rest of the evening going through the case of twenty-four cans of beer in the fridge. When the case was empty, Woody went through the other two cases, not even bothering to chill them first.

When Ethan came home late on the evening of January 28th, he found his boyfriend laying rather haphazardly on the sofa, his arms dangling to the floor, his legs flung over the armrest. Ethan noticed the cans of beer scattered throughout the living room and laughed, assuming that Woody had thrown some parties while he was away, not realizing that Woody had drank all the beer himself. Ethan kneeled down in front of the couch and ran his hand through Woody’s dark blonde hair; it felt sticky but still soft. Ethan could hear Woody desperate mumbling but couldn’t quite make out what he was saying.

“I’m here, Sherwood. I’m home,” Ethan whispered softly, kissing Woody’s cheeks, but Woody was too out of it to notice the return of his boyfriend. Peeling Woody from the sofa, the older man carried his boyfriend back into the bedroom. Ethan noticed that the bed spread was flat and even…and because Woody was never the type to make his bed, Ethan knew that Woody hadn’t slept on it the whole time Ethan was gone. Slowly, he laid his lover down, tucking a soft downy pillow under his head, and carefully taking off his shoes before throwing a blanket over him. Ethan changed into comfortable sleeping attire and tucked himself under the covers, embracing the body he had missed so much in the past two weeks.

Morning eventually came, and the sun rays poured over the couple in bed. As the light filtered through Woody’s eyelids, the young man opened his eyes to see a handsome face staring inches away from his.
Ethan beamed, “Morning, sleeping beauty.”
“Ethan? When did you get back?” Woody asked groggily.
“Around 10 pm last night.”
“Did you…did you carry me to bed?”
“No, I used my telekinetic power and levitated you.”

“How…how did it go? With the publishers?”
“Pretty good. I mean, nothing decisive yet. Didn’t sign a contract or anything. But I think they are impressed with a few of my stories.”
“I’m glad,” said Woody honestly.

“Your breath smells like fermentation,” Ethan chuckled, “But I don’t care. I have to kiss you, cause I’ve been dying to do so for the last half-month…” Ethan rolled partly on top of his boyfriend and planted a soft, long-lasting kiss that temporarily lifted Woody’s soul from the bottom of a dark abyss. “I brought the calendar of you with me. It helped somewhat, but I almost bore a hole through your face with all the saliva.”

“Did you take the bus? I’m sorry I didn’t pick you up,” said Woody.
“That’s okay. I wanted to surprise you. Happy anniversary!” Ethan whispered softly, running a hand over Woody’s chest under his white A-shirt. Instantly, he could feel the pectorals tensing up, the nipples hardening to a point. The fine hair on Woody’s chest stood up as fingers stroked the skin. “I wanna make love with you, Sherwood.”

Woody’s only reply was an utterance mixed with desire and grief, half willingness, half fear. He could never say No to Ethan, could never give less than what Ethan wanted; he could never deny himself the chance to feel Ethan’s love all over his body and deep inside his soul. At the same time, Adam’s precise prediction was coming true…Ethan was making love to him right after he returned; they would make love, possibly for the last time.

Ethan took Woody’s utterance as a sign of total consent and proceeded to separate both their bodies of their clothing. Now, after two agonizingly long weeks, Ethan had his lover’s naked flesh wrapped in his arms and legs, and he knew just exactly what to do with it. All three hours of his flight plus the two hours of his bus ride from the airport to Ashton, Ethan had planned exactly how he wanted their sexual experience to occur, how the whole day were to unfold.

Ethan raised Woody’s legs with care, wrapping around his waist. His penetrating pupils delved through the window of Woody’s beautiful eyes straight into his soul, at the same time, Ethan’s hard, eager, twitching organ penetrated the tight pucker of his lover’s bowel.

Woody didn’t know why he was so surprised of the initial pain. Two weeks, the love canal had been untouched, had taken time to heal, to tighten up, but Woody couldn’t believe it was this painful. But as Ethan dipped down for a soothing kiss, Woody’s pain melted away and what replaced was the beginning of sheer pleasure.

Missionary, whether anal or vaginal, it is the most generic, the most familiar, the most overused position of love making. But with Ethan, the missionary was far from dull and predictable; it was as romantic, passionate, exciting, exhilarating, breath-taking as any other position, especially near the end when screams and moans lasted longer than actual breaths. Ethan had always been able to use the dominating position to his greatest advantage, taking control without hesitation, acting as the main provider of all the pleasure, the master of all the senses. He touched with great sincerity, so every part of Woody’s body felt special, every fiber of Woody’s being felt revitalized. He propelled inward with all his heart, with great precision, so each bang was worth the buck, each pummelation was cum-inducingly fantastic. He kissed with undeniable affection, all over Woody’s neck and face, but it was his kiss on the lips that brought Woody to tears.

Woody cried because every movement Ethan made, every pleasurable action he performed, displayed all the indication that Ethan still loved him, still cared for him, still needed him. So how could Ethan possibly be thinking of calling it quits at this moment, how could Ethan be planning his break up speech, how could Ethan go through with it knowing full well by the end of the day he would be hurting the very person he was making love to right now?

“Sweetie, am I hurting you?” Ethan asked, his faced filled with concern.
Woody blinked the tears to run down the side of his face and turned to the wall, no longer able to look into Ethan’s eyes, “No, I’m just so happy you’re back…that’s all.”

And so Ethan continued, now lifting Woody’s legs higher, strapping over his shoulders. This position asked for more movement, more flexibility, and in returned offered greater penetration and more surprising thrills. Digging his knees deeper into the firm mattress, curling his toes in the soft blankets, rocking harder, and thrusting faster, and driving deeper into Woody’s core, Ethan gave it his all. But based on Woody’s bodily signals, or lack thereof, Ethan could tell that Woody was NOT at all near the point of climax.

Woody tried, he really tried, to enjoy it as he usually would. But nothing Ethan did, no matter how pleasurable it was, could lift Woody from the depth of misery he had fallen into. Even now as they switched position, Ethan laying on his side behind Woody, spooning, holding Woody in his arms, kissing the back of his lover’s neck, squeezing the skin and muscles of Woody’s thigh…nothing, absolutely nothing, did anything for Woody.

“I know you’re mad…that I made you stay,” Ethan muttered between hard grunts, “I’ll take you with me…next time I go. I learned my lesson…I’m a fool…thinking that two weeks…without you…would be a piece of cake. It’s not…Sherwood…call me clingy…call me needy…cause it’s all true…I need you…all the time…I love you.”

Like magic, those words brought Woody back to life. Ethan was talking of the future…a future where they were still together. Ethan can’t possibly plan on breaking up with him, not when he said those things. And with that thought, Woody felt the rush of all the fluids in his body: blood filling up his member, sweat steaming out of his body, drool flowed out of his mouth as Ethan kissed him now…and so Woody came, more satisfied than he ever remembered. Ethan came also, hard and furious, with all that two weeks have stored, filling deep inside of Woody, until the thick white fluid gushed out onto the bedspread, dripping on Woody’s thigh.

Ethan pulled out, only to ask, “I need you to come inside me, Sherwood. I need it badly.”

Woody flipped over to face Ethan and sighed, “Of course, babe. But let me rest for a moment, then fetch me a condom.”
“No…” Ethan said, “I meant, cum inside me. I want to feel your ejaculation.”

“Bareback?” Woody asked. The nasty issue that was presented at the beginning of their relationship had returned, “I…sure, have you cleansed yourself?”
Ethan shook his head.
Woody rolled his eyes, “I…I’ll do anything for you, Ethan. You know that, but you also have to meet me halfway here.”

Ethan nodded understandingly, but his deep sigh hinted disappointment, “I’m too tired right now to shove a pipe up my bum and fill it with warm water. I guess we won’t have to do it then.”
“Okay,” Woody shrugged, feeling too worn out from Ethan’s lovemaking to persuade otherwise.

Ethan stretched an arm lightly across the younger man’s chest. Woody could sense something was dramatically different. Usually, if Ethan was holding him, he was REALLY HOLDING him, squeezing the air out of him…not like he was doing now, half-assed and lethargic. Woody tried to study Ethan’s face, the usually bright, ever so happy-go-lucky visage, was now an unreadable blank slate.

“Are you mad?” Woody asked.
“What? No,” Ethan said, “It’s perfectly reasonable you want me to be clean if you don’t use a condom.”
“Then why aren’t you holding me tighter?”
Ethan sighed, “Oh, sorry.” And began clenching like a boa constrictor around Woody’s chest, “Is that better? I just…you know, had a five hour long trip. And I stayed up all night watching you sleep, and I just spilled two weeks of passion. I’m just a bit worn out, that’s all.”

But Woody wasn’t so sure that was all. As Ethan began to drift asleep, Woody laid beside him as fear returned. For the next three hours, he laid petrified, barely able to move as Adam’s prediction ached every bone in his body. God, why didn’t he just go through with it, why didn’t he just satisfy Ethan and get it over with. This was it…this would be Ethan’s excuse to break up with him.

<%PART%>

“We don’t have to drive all the way to the market, buy some food, and drive back home and cook for an hour before we can eat. Can’t we just have some Chinese or something?” suggested Woody as he shrugged into his leather jacket, “It’ll be much easier for you. I mean, you said you were tired after the long trip.”

“No, the three hour nap did me good. Besides, you haven’t been pampered and spoiled the last two weeks,” said Ethan with a smirk, putting on his blue coat, “Now, you’re all skin and bones. I’m making you your favorite baby-back ribs and force feed you until you gain back the five pounds on that lovely booty of yours!”

“It’s a big bother, Ethan,” said Woody, “If we’re gonna go out in the cold, it may as well be to a warm restaurant somewhere.”
“Okay, tell me this. Do you like my cooking or the restaurant’s more?”
“Well…yours…of course…but…”

“No butts, just ribs. Lots of em. Drowned in barbeque. And that’s that!”

It took the better part of an hour to drive through the ice-covered road to the grocery store, select the leanest package of ribs they could find, pick out some vegetables to counter-balance their cholesterol-filled meal, buy some sauce and seasoning and a 24-pack of beer, then slip and slide their way back home. Woody offered to help prepare the food, but Ethan declined, saying that part of being spoiled and pampered meant sitting back, relaxing, and waiting for the food to come to you.

“But I wanna do something!” Woody sighed.

“Well, I have a feeling…” Ethan knew Woody too well, “That you haven’t done much schoolwork while I was gone. Maybe while waiting, you should get on that.”
“Doing homework?” Woody sighed even louder, “That doesn’t sound very relaxing.”

“Or you can help tidy up the place,” Ethan said, noting the trash strewn about the room and the cans of beer on every surface, “How many parties did you throw over the last two weeks.”
“Party?” Woody frowned, “I didn’t throw any party.”
“So you drank all that beer by yourself?”
Woody didn’t need to nod for Ethan to understand the answer was Yes.

“Three 24-packs? 72 cans in two weeks? 5 cans a day? Jesus, Sherwood, I know you’re a big fan of alcohol, but isn’t that a little excessive?” Ethan said, “Why in hell would you drink so much?”
“We…we ran out of coke…” was Woody’s lame excuse.

But before Ethan could interrogate further, Woody said he would clean up the living room and quickly left the kitchen area. In a half-assed manner, Woody gathered up all the cans of beer he could find and threw it in a trash bag and left the bag just before the doorway to the kitchen area (the trashcan was in the kitchen and if Woody were to walk in there, he would have to deal with Ethan’s nagging)

Finding nothing better to do and seeing as how he still reeked of alcohol, Woody decided to take a shower…the first one he’d taken in four days. Some fifteen minutes later, Woody was refreshed and cleansed on the outside, but internally, he felt as depressed and awful as he did the last half month. When he walked out of the bathroom, his face was wet, but Woody couldn’t tell if it was from the tears or the steam condensing on his skin.

Usually showers helped Woody think more clearly, but not this time. It only gave him more time to think of the ominous and inevitable event…Ethan was going to break up with him. When they were grocery shopping, Ethan seemed to be talking to him as normally as ever, and Woody feigned his reply. But under Ethan’s easy-going tone, under his usual demeanor, Woody could feel a boiling energy waiting to burst from Ethan’s body. Woody could detect that slight fluctuation in his voice as if, every moment, Ethan wanted to say something but was forcing back his urge.

“OWW, FUCKING SHIT!” Woody temporarily snapped out of his gloomy thoughts as his right toes snubbed at a corner of Ethan’s suitcase sitting on the floor. The boy clung to a bed pole, lest he fell flat on his face on the floor. Angrily, Woody kicked the suitcase, but that only aggravated his pained toes even more.

Woody sat down on the edge of the bed and continued to curse at the suitcase. After a while, he decided to curse at the thing while unpacking Ethan’s clothes. Lifting the luggage to the bed, Woody unbuckled the straps and unzipped the main flap all the way around. Flipping over the flap, Woody saw that all of Ethan’s clothes were nicely folded and packed perfectly. He couldn’t tell which ones were clean and which ones needed to be washed. Sniffing each one, Woody still couldn’t tell the difference because they all smelled like Ethan…a soft fresh scent that radiated five feet from his body in every direction…a scent Woody could inhale forever.

As Ethan now entered the room, Woody asked, “Oh, hey. Which ones are dirty so I can…”

“NO, STOP! Don’t unpack!” Ethan darted to the suitcase, flipped the flap down, dragged it off the bed, and zipped it up tight again. As he calmed down, Ethan could see the shock on Woody’s face, “Oh, I’m sorry, honey. Thanks for the gesture…but I can…I can do that on my own. I thought I told you to just relax. Go outside and watch TV. I’ll take care of this. And when the oven timer goes off, just holler.”

When Woody finally consented to leave the room, he could see Ethan gathering up his clothing and putting it back in the suitcase. He was packing up already. Ethan was already packing up to leave him forever.

****

The ribs were still sizzling when Ethan set the plate on the table in front of Woody. The young man being served accepted his portion with a light nod…any heavier movement and his head would have burst open.

“Eat up,” said Ethan with a wide smile.
Woody stared down at his plate. The ribs were nicely browned, the juices pooling around the edges of the plates, the steaming green beans to the side, corn to another side. The dish looked as appetizing as Ethan had ever made it, and having barely eaten anything in the last two weeks, Woody swallowed excess saliva, licked his lips, picked up the steak knife, and dug it at the side of a rib one, anchoring it with a fork.

Woody took a full bite and closed his eyes, letting out a gentle moan. Everything Ethan did was with fullest sincerity, with the fullest care and precision. His leadership on the football field reflected his leadership in the classroom. His skills in the bedroom reflected his skills in the kitchen. His manners during the start of the relationship reflects his manners during the end; he was always considerate, always caring; Ethan would tend to Woody’s needs, before he let him go forever. Each bite for Woody was a bite of pain and pleasure. It was his last meal, he savored it, soaked the juice and sauce on his tongue, swallowed it slowly, felt it slide down his throat, before cutting up another piece.

Ethan watched his boyfriend curiously. Usually, when eating ribs, Woody would just use his hands and go at them like a vulture on a carcass. Now, he was using utensils, he was averaging a minute a bite. This caused Ethan to wonder. Did he know? Did Woody know what this meal meant, what it would eventually lead to?

“I’m sorry if I got a little upset with you about your drinking,” said Ethan during the middle of dinner, “I’m just really concerned for you. I’m worried that that you can’t take care of yourself when you’re alone. It’s not a good thing, Sherwood.”
“Why would I be alone?” asked Woody, “I have you, don’t I?”

“Of course you have me,” said Ethan, “It’s just…the reason I fell in love with you was because I thought you were more responsible, I thought you knew the difference between having fun and being reckless. What I was thinking of doing tonight, Sherwood, I don’t know if I can do it if I know you haven’t grown up.”

“Then DON’T do it.” Woody pleaded, “Please don’t do it.”
“You don’t want me to do it?” Ethan asked, his face drowned in hurt.

“No. No. No. What-I-said-before-about-our-relationship-being-routine,” Woody began to speak faster than he could breathe, “I-didn’t-mean-that! I-was-stupid, what-I-said-was-just-stupid. Because-everyday-with-us-is-so-new-so-different-not-routine-at-all-Everyday-is-so-unpredictable. I-discover-new-things-about-you-about-me-about-us-about-life. Everyday-is-full-of-surprises. Please, Ethan, I beg of you. I love you so much…Please, don’t, Ethan, don’t leave me!”

“What are you talking about, babe?” Ethan asked, “You’re scaring me.”
“Don’t leave me. Don’t break up with me.”

“I’m not gonna break up with you because you drink too much,” Ethan snorted.
“Don’t do this to me, Ethan. You can’t leave me. I won’t let you!”

“Honey, why would I leave you?” Ethan was at a lost for words.
“You just…I just…Adam…and he…” Woody was at a lost for verbs.

“Adam? I thought we’ve established that whatever Adam says is crap?”
“Then you got to promise me.” Woody said, “Swear to all the gods that ever existed. Promise me, you will never leave me.”

Ethan nodded and said softly, “I think I can do just that…” He smiled, his eyes lit with a thousand twinkling stars. Gliding off the chair, Ethan came down on one knee, looking up at Woody’s perplexed face. Tucking his hand inside the back pocket of his pants, Ethan pulled out a slender red velvet box. He opened it to reveal a platinum bracelet, on which the words ‘Forever, together, we’ll be’ were engraved. Ethan took Woody’s trembling right hand, “Sherwood, a year ago, you asked me if you were the best I’ve ever had. At that time, I said no. You were disappointed, and so you never asked again. But if you would have asked me just two weeks later, after the night of our first date, I would have said YES. It only took one date, and you became my best. YOU ARE THE BEST!” Ethan paused as his eyes swelled with tears I love you. “I don’t want you to drown yourself in beer thinking you are anything less than the best. You are the most important thing in this world to me, and I want to spend every minute of everyday for the rest of my life making sure you realize that.” Ethan glanced down at the jewelry and uttered a sniffled chuckle, “I’m sure a diamond ring would look silly on your hand. But this bracelet...it represents our promise, our love, and our whole life. It can’t possibly hold everything I feel for you, but it’s close enough. So by accepting this token, Sherwood Allen Anderson, will you marry me?”