Shadow

Chapter 1 : The Quiet

The quiet snatched Andrew Dominguez from sleep.
Normally he heard noises: voices from the TV, cars coming in and out of the apartment complex, the neighbors’ loud music, or Russell’s soft snoring beside him. Even in a state of deep sleep, Andrew heard things from the outside world. Now he could hear nothing at all and instinctively, he knew something was wrong.
Andrew rolled over in bed and checked the spot next to him.
Empty.

He ran his hand over Russell’s side of the mattress. It felt hard and cold like nobody had been sleeping there. Through hazy eyes Andrew gazed at the alarm clock on his bedside nightstand: a quarter past one, on Wednesday morning. Russell should have been home from work by now. He should have been in the bed beside him.
“Russ?” Andrew called.

He sat upright in bed. Despite the mid January cold, sheens of cool sweat covered his body. He felt incredibly sluggish. Andrew shivered as he waited for Russell's response.
Two things Andrew knew for certain: Russell was not home, but there was someone, other than Andrew in the apartment. He purposely left the television in the living room on, set to a low volume, before going to sleep, as he did every night that Russell worked long night shifts. Usually Russell turned it off when he came home.
It was off now.

Andrew and Russell shared a small one-bedroom apartment in Emeryville, a tiny town sandwiched between the cities of Berkeley and Oakland, consisting of mid-priced and expensive lofts and trendy retail shops.
Their living room was barely larger than their bedroom, which in itself only fit their king-sized bed, a computer desk, and a clothes dresser. No single room in the apartment had enough space for them not to be able to hear the other’s voice, even if they whispered. If Russell were here, he would have said something by now.

Yet Andrew could not get rid of the feeling that someone was in the apartment. More specifically, he felt someone standing directly outside his bedroom door.
The room temperature seemed to drop several degrees in mere seconds. Despite being covered up in thick blankets, a deathly chill infiltrated Andrew’s body, penetrating him down to the bone. A singular sound filled the silent darkness: his heartbeat.
Andrew had dreamed of this exact scenario before abruptly waking up in middle of the night. He had woken up before finishing the dream, but it did not seem like it was going to end too well for him.
He thought about the automatic pistol located in one of Russell’s shoeboxes in the closet. He never used it, but he knew how if he ever needed to use it.
His cell phone rang.

The sudden noise made Andrew jump. He looked at the cell phone on his nightstand. Beyoncé’s song, “Halo” filled the silence. Andrew immediately knew it was Russell calling. He reached over and picked up the phone.
“Where are you?” he whispered.
“Just getting off,” Russell responded Hearing his deep voice made Andrew feel somewhat more secure. “Sorry to wake you up.”
“I was already up,” Andrew replied softly, his eyes glued to the door. “Woke up a few minutes ago.”
“Bad dream?” Russell asked.

Andrew’s stomach tightened. “Yeah…”
“The one you keep refusin to tell me about?”
Andrew frowned. Russell was right. He had deliberately chosen not to tell the details of his nightmares for Russell's benefit.
“Sorry I’m not there. Should be home in about fifteen minutes.”
From the other side of the bedroom door, Andrew distinctly heard footsteps.
“Drew, are you there?”

“Hurry up,” Andrew urged, trying not to sound as panicked as he actually felt.
“What’s up? Why are you whispering? I can barely hear you.”

Andrew did not know if he should tell Russell that there was somebody in the apartment. when this assumption was based mostly on intuition and what sounded like footsteps outside his door. However, Andrew always trusted his instincts.
“Get here soon as you can,” Andrew said.
“Fifteen minutes,” Russell assured him
“Make it ten."
Russell laughed. “Ok. I will. Love you.”
Andrew shivered. “Me too.”

He hung up the phone and realized he needed to make a plan.
Andrew got this horrific feeling that would be the last time he heard those words from Russell. The phone slipped from his hand and fell onto his lap. He replaced it on the nightstand and pulled the blankets up to his chin, just like a little boy afraid to see the monster hiding in the closet.
Russ will be here soon.

The more he tried convincing himself, the greater his fear increased.
Andrew took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Even with the blankets covering him, he could not expel the icy grip on his body.
The doorknob rattled.
He could not have mistaken that sound.
Fuck, Andrew thought.

Andrew shot upward in bed again, all the muscles in his body alert. His eyes locked on the doorknob, and despite the dense darkness, he could see it moving very clearly.
His nightmare was becoming a reality and he had nowhere to hide. The closet would be the first place any intruder would look, and he was too large to fit under the bed. He thought about the gun in the closet and wondered if he would have enough time to go in there and get it.
He vividly recalled closing and locking the door before going to bed. Besides, nobody could even get through the security gate or the building’s main door without a pass code. In the nine months since Andrew moved in with Russell, there had been, surprisingly, very few reports of vandalism, thefts, or intrusions. This had been a nice, quiet, and safe place to live…until now.
The door swung open gently and very slowly without one creak

Fear inundated Andrew’s whole body. He was frozen, paralyzed with terror. Andrew kept waiting for himself to wake up from this nightmare, but it refused to happen.
Get the gun before it’s too late.

Andrew knew that he would not have enough time to get it. He hated himself now for not telling Russell what was happening when he had the chance. Andrew regained enough control over his body to reach over and switch on the lamp beside his bed.
It only took seconds for Andrew’s eyes to adjust to the sudden light. The bedroom door was fully open, but Andrew did not see anyone standing on the other side of it, but he felt something standing at the foot of his bed, watching him.
No way this shit is really happening—
The imperceptible intruder pounced on Andrew.

Before Andrew had the chance to react, two very strong hands wrapped themselves around his throat and squeezed, crushing the air out of him. Andrew thrashed and kicked, futilely. The invisible intruder had him pinned down to the mattress, severely restricting his ability to move.

His cell phone rang. ‘Halo’ blared throughout the room as Andrew asphyxiated.
Russ!

Andrew attempted to turn his head, toward the source of the ringing. He tried reaching out his arm to grab it, but he was powerless. The more he fought, the tighter his attacker gripped his throat. His heart raced at an impossible speed and everything in the room spun and grew hazier by the second. Andrew stared up at the ceiling, trying to focus, trying not to let the darkness that started to encroach on all sides overtake him. Andrew opened his mouth in one final attempt to scream, but nothing came out except frigid silence. The phone rang a few more times before suddenly stopping.

Everything was quiet.

Chapter Two

The Call

Nathan Grayson knew something was wrong, but he could not tell what—not yet anyhow.
It started as a dull throbbing at the back of his head, slowly developing into a headache. A vivid image of Russell Moore sitting alone in a bedroom, on a messy bed, entered his mind. Nathan felt like he was going to be sick.
He had done well for the last few months, blocking Russell’s gorgeous face from his brain. Nathan had been trying to forget Russell’s voice, smile, and how his hard body felt against his when they slept. A full year passed since Nathan last saw or heard from Russell. Yet when Russell unexpectedly popped into his brain, it conjured a string of negative emotions: loneliness, melancholy, and resentment.

“You okay, Nate?” Blake Coleman asked. He lightly touched Nathan’s shoulder and Nathan felt a warm sizzle throughout his body.
“I’m cool.” Nathan tried to maintain focus on the television show he, Blake, and their other friend and roommate, Justin Bronson were watching. He was distracted, however, by continuous mental flashes of Russell’s face, followed by extreme emotions of worry and fear. Nathan squeezed his eyes shut, trying to erase the images from his head. His minor headache turned major in less than a minute.

“You don’t look like it,” Blake noticed. Concern seeped into his mesmerizing, cinnamon-colored eyes. “Something you wanna talk about?”
“No, it’s good. I just need to go to the bathroom right quick.”

Nathan got up from the couch and headed to the staircase. He knew Blake would follow him. Justin continued to watch television, lying on his stomach on the carpet, entirely transfixed as Tyra Banks decided which of two remaining girls would still be in the running in hopes of becoming "America’s Next Top Model". He never noticed Blake or Nathan going upstairs to the bathroom.

“Blake, you didn’t need to follow me,” Nathan said as they both entered the bathroom, which barely fit the two of them. Nathan turned on the light and went over to the sink.
“Tell me what’s up,” Blake responded, closing the door and leaning against it. He folded his muscular arms over his built chest. “Not going anywhere until you do.”
Nathan sighed and pulled open the medicine cabinet, searching for a bottle of Aspirin. “I told you already, it’s not a big deal. Don’t worry about it. Just a little headache…where’s the pills?”
“We're out.” Blake unfolded his arms and tentatively stepped toward Nathan. “It’s about him, huh?”

Nathan closed the medicine cabinet door and gazed at his reflection in the mirror. On a good day he would consider himself cute. Not sexy, but cute. He had a warm caramel complexion, with thick eyebrows and coffee-colored eyes.
Nathan had nice, full lips and great teeth. When he smiled, he went from cute to actually being handsome. Right now, however, he looked average and tired. His eyes appeared worried and strange. He almost did not recognize himself.
“I haven’t thought about him in a while. Now all of a sudden he just pops into my mind,” Nathan told Blake. He turned on the faucet and splashed water on his face. It did not help. When Nathan glanced at his reflection again, he looked soggy and even worse than before. He switched his eyes from the mirror over to Blake.

“Russell’s going to call me.” The pain in his head intensified when he said that.

Blake did not speak right away, he just glared. Nathan knew exactly what scrolled through his mind. Just when I thought he was starting to get over that asshole
“It’s not like that Blake,” Nathan said.
“Don’t talk to him,” Blake replied. “If he calls you, don’t pick up.”
“I wish it was that easy.”
“Nate, it is that easy.”
“I haven’t talked to him in a year, Blake.”
“That’s not long enough,”
“I just can’t ignore his call.”

Nathan could see the anger mounting in Blake’s whole disposition. He looked like he wanted to punch a wall. “Blake, there’s no need for you to be so upset. This has nothing to do with you.”
Blake clearly took offense to Nathan’s words. “It upsets me, Nate, `cause you’re still in love with that dumb-ass.”

Those words hit like bullets to Nathan’s chest, stunning him into total silence. For a second, he could not breathe. Blake must have known he had spoken out of line, because the hardness in his face melted.
“I’m just trying to look out for you. After the way things went down..."
“Look, Blake. I’m glad you’re looking out for me but I’m an adult. I can take care of myself. I don’t need you making decisions about who I should speak to.”
“You’re right, do what you want,” Blake said coldly. They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Are you two sucking each off in there?” Justin asked from the other side of the bathroom door.

Blake pulled open the door. Justin stood there, arms crossed, with an irritated look. “We’re just having a little talk,” Blake told Justin.
“You guys always have your ‘little talks’ and leave me out of them,” Justin complained.
“Justin, don’t worry about it,” Nathan said, stepping past both Blake and Justin as he headed out the bathroom. “It’s nothing. I’m getting ready for bed.”
“It’s only ten!” Justin exclaimed. “I thought we were all gonna watch Project Runway.”
“Not tonight,” Nathan replied. “I’m tired.” He sauntered to his bedroom across the hallway. “Good night.”

Before entering his room, Nathan heard Blake’s voice in his mind: We’re not done talking about this yet, Nate.
Nathan turned around to see Blake staring at him sternly. Yes we are.

He went into his room, shutting the door behind him. Turning on the lamp near his bedside, Nathan noticed his window was slightly open. He had not remembered opening it at any point during the day. A cold breeze slipped inside and gave him chills. Nathan ambled over to the window and closed it, staring out into the darkness, seeing nothing, except for the huge black shape of the house located next door to their spacious two-story townhouse.

After changing into his night clothes, simply consisting of a pair of underwear briefs and an old T-shirt, Nathan crawled into bed, taking his cell phone out of his pants pocket. He set his

alarm for six-thirty in the morning, and placed it on his nightstand. Before turning off the light, Nathan looked at his phone momentarily, waiting for it to ring…waiting to hear Russell’s voice.
It had been two and a half weeks after New Year’s, the previous year since they last spoke. Russell had not even had the decency to end their relationship face to face, but through a text message. Nathan had predicted everything Russell would say It was the cruelty of precognition. Even though Nathan knew in advance, it did not quell his pain. It only made it worse.

Nathan remembered the humiliation of calling Russell for the next several weeks afterward, desperately attempting to have a more in-depth discussion about how and why Russell stopped caring about him. He wanted to know how after being involved for two years, Russell could just treat Nathan like some random person off the street. Russell never responded to any of Nathan’s calls, although he did send one text message shortly before Valentine’s Day. Nathan recalled it verbatim:

Srry, Nate, but I’m with someone else now. Please understand. Take care of urself, and maybe we’ll talk sometime soon. Happy V-Day btw.

Those last three words stung more than anything else in the message. For many months, Nathan kept that message stored in his phone, reading it several times a day, especially before falling asleep. He hoped that ‘sometime soon’ would be today.
Sometime soon never came.

It was only a few months ago that Nathan erased that text from his phone, along with Russell’s number, tearing up most of the pictures they took together, save for one or two, and deleting the rest of them from his computer. Still, after all this time, Nathan still could not erase Russell from his brain.

If his intuition was right, which Nathan absolutely believed it was, then Russell would be calling him, soon. Tonight even.
But to tell me what? Nathan wondered. That he broke up with his boyfriend? That he wants to get back together with me?
Nathan reminded himself not to speculate so much and not to get too excited.

For a long time, Nathan thought about what would happen if Russell were to actually call him and say, “You know what Nate? I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. Could you please forgive me? Can I be with you again?”
Nathan always had two versions of his response: In one, he would forgive Russell, kiss him passionately, and proceed to have sex with him. In the alternative fantasy, Nathan would knock Russell flat on the ground (although Russell was six-foot-one with nearly two hundred pounds of muscle, and Nathan was five-foot-eight and weighed one hundred and forty pounds)screaming: “I’ll never fuckin forgive you.”
It was easy to imagine how he would respond, but another thing to actually follow through with it.

Nathan turned off the light and a flurry of thoughts stampeded through Nathan’s head as he settled himself in bed. Many of his thoughts involved Russell, while others involved Blake.
From the time Nathan and Russell started dating Blake always expressed explicit revulsion toward Russell. He always warned Nathan that Russell would deceive and abandon him. Nathan never listened to Blake’s rants about Russell, mostly because he knew that Blake’s opinions had less to do with being a good friend, than it did with his jealousy toward Russell.

Nathan never understood how Blake could ever be envious of Russell. With his tall, perfectly-chiseled body, his movie star face and effortlessly masculine disposition, Blake could get any person he wanted, at any time he wanted. In fact, Nathan would have figured that Blake and Russell would have been a more appropriate match-up, due to their physical and personality similarities, but they were never interested in each other.

Once Nathan’s relationship with Russell ended, Nathan had been surprised and moved by how comforting and consoling Blake had been. Although Blake had all the justification in the world to criticize Nathan, he never did.
There had been times, in the middle of the night, when Nathan could not sleep, and grief held him tighter than a lover, Blake would come into Nathan’s room, slip into his bed, hold and him closely. Nathan would hear Blake’s voice in his head, saying: It’s okay. It’s okay, over and over until he eventually fell asleep.

Nathan heard Blake and Justin’s voices downstairs. For a while, he contemplated getting out of bed and watching television with them. Sleep refused to come easily and he also did not want to be alone. Honestly, Nathan knew what he really wanted: he wanted Blake to come upstairs, get into bed with him, and hold him like he used to. Nathan wanted to feel warm and safe instead of cold and lonely.
Blake, come up here when you’re done. Please.

He sent the thought out before fully realizing the ramifications. It was too late to take it back.

Nathan closed his eyes, hoping for sleep to arrive, but it tauntingly eluded him. He could not force his mind to go blank and for his body to relax and be at peace. He kept waiting for his bedroom door to open and for Blake to come in but it never happened.
Don’t think about Blake, Nathan told himself. Don’t think about Russell. Don’t think about anything.