Those first few years were beyond agonizing.

Imagine all will to live just completely gone.  Imagine an unbearable ache in your heart that never fades ...   and no way to end it.  Hopelessness, loneliness, sorrow...   those were my companions as I wandered the earth.

I never stayed in one place too long, the questions always too frequent, suspicion a necessary evil in those times.  I began to use my surname as my first name and after awhile I adopted the surname of the very first man who was kind to me in my many travels. I became Richard Hoying, trying to leave behind the man I had been, the man who had lost everything. 

I worried for the wife and daughter I left behind, but I would have done more harm than good had I stayed. I wasn't exactly in my right mind, my sanity only an intermittent luxury.

The years crawled by.  Everything around me changed, the scenery, the people always different, but yet I remained the same. Every time I caught my reflection in a mirror it was another reminder that this was my forever. There was no end. My face never wrinkled, never aged. Yet another reason I was forced to keep moving, unable to have a home, unable to form friendships...  unable to be anything except an invisible nomad. I was nothing...   no one.

Even after 15 years alone the thought of another man's body left me empty.  I tried of course, desperate for distraction even knowing it wouldn't do much to ease my heartache, but I tried. I always ended up in tears when it was over,  the memory of what I'd once had clearer than ever and the guilt was an angry, bitter pill.

I began to speak to him. I began to hold conversations with a ghost as if it were a normal thing to do. I'd hole up in whichever inn or boarding house I could find and I'd spend hours pretending that he was still there beside me with those knowing eyes and that sharp tongue. The carved wooden horse would always sit watching as I slept and every night I would tell him I loved him and that I missed him. Every night I would cry again, the pain still razor sharp every time I imagined I could hear his laugh or see his smile, but still I made sure that the last thing I saw before sleeping was the carved horse and I could sleep without nightmares.

I continued on because I had no choice. I lived in the fantasy world I'd created for myself, trying to find a way to keep existing. With lead feet and a broken heart I continued on.

I'd endured just over 22 years of neverending heartbreak and I'd nearly reached my breaking point. I cried night after night, begging the universe to let me die, begging a man who wasn't there to release me from this curse, but still I continued on. I began to drown my sorrows in ale and pain. I would go from tavern to tavern and provoke the meanest man I could. I could feel it, every blow, every cut, until it came with the intent to kill. Something always interrupted before it could get that far, no matter what.  I just wanted to die. I needed an out.

I had remained in the last town for far too long. I traveled for days until I came upon a new place. The village was small, quite poor by appearance.  The innkeeper was a kind man and I gave him twice what the room was worth with the agreement of no questions.  The room was small but comfortable nonetheless.

My first stop, as always, was the local tavern. It was loud and reeked of alcohol and sweat and straw. It didn't matter. The numb came in pints and I was happy to indulge.

I probably should have waited to start my usual routine of picking a fight, but I was past the point of intelligence. I stood with a half full glass of ale and 'accidentally' stumbled into a large man whose face was dark with dirt and filth, my glass emptying its contents onto him.

I smiled like a madman when the fist connected with my face, and relished the pain as I was tossed into a nearby table, my body rolling to the floor.  I could hear voices, my love's ringing in my ears.  That was familiar. I always heard his voice in my head, reprimanding me for my weakness, but I did it anyway if only to hear his voice one more time.

But something was different.

As I tried to sit up, I could hear raucous laughter. It was one of those places where fights were commonplace and began and ended abruptly through the course of the night. It was disheartening as I'd hoped to numb myself just a bit more.  I closed my eyes in an attempt to get the world to stop turning. 

There was a hand on my shoulder, a soft voice breaking through the din.

When I finally managed to open my eyes I just knew that I was dreaming. Maybe he'd hit me harder than I realized?

Maybe I'd finally gone crazy, but there was no way it could be real. 

"Are you alright, sir? Can you stand?" 

He looked so beautiful...  younger, yet nearly the same. His hair was shorn closer to his head and he had quite the scar above his left eye, but other than that...    he was still my Mitchell. 

"Mitchell?" 

I wanted to reach out to touch him, but the fear of being this close only to be disappointed kept my hand by my side.  The light weight of his hand on my shoulder was probably just a trick of my mind.  

I tried to convince myself it was a hallucination, that Alexander's words were nothing more than a metaphor for my pain, but then he smiled and those dimples twisted the metaphoric dagger in my heart.

"I'm sorry, but my name is Michael. I think you may have hit your head a bit too hard."

Michael.  He was different, yet not really. I wanted to throw him down and kiss the breath from him, but there was no recognition in his eyes... none.   

He sighed a bit in frustration as he must have asked more questions and got no response as I continued to stare... but finally he gripped my hand and helped me to my feet. Still I continued to stare.

"Do you have a name?" 

"Scott"

I blurted it out before even being able to stop myself. I hadn't muttered that name in over 20 years and just saying it immediately took me  back to that night and those words.

... he'll come again and you will fall in love like the weak hearted bastard you are and again I will rip it away from you.

No. I couldn't let myself fall for him. I couldn't do it again.  I backed up one, two steps before tripping and falling backwards to the ground again. He just watched me, face full of confusion.

The tears burned in the corner of my eyes like acid and he seemed concerned at my sudden sorrow.  

The memory of his cold, lifeless body in my arms was a fresh wound all over again and I immediately scrambled to my feet and ran.  I ran from his beautiful face and the memories that threatened to steal my mind. I couldn't let those words come true... I wouldn't.

I began to pack what little I had, desperate to escape this place and save him from the death I knew that I would bring to him, but I should have known better. 

Teardrops streamed down my face in crooked lines as memories crashed down on me like a tsunami. I ended up on my knees on the uneven floor, the wooden horse seemingly staring at me, mocking me.

There was a knock at the door and I immediately thought to look for a weapon, but really there was no point in that. When you're seeking death why would you want to defend yourself? I wiped at my eyes, hoping they would go away, but another knock came and I got to my feet.

It was his face I saw when I opened the door and I realized he followed me. 

"You left your bag" He held out the small drawstring bag that held a few coins i didn't have stashed away. It had been attached to my belt but must have come loose during my fight.  He must have been a damn saint not to steal it for himself.

"Keep it."

He shook his head. "It's not mine to keep."

"It is now." 

I tried to close the door but he put up a hand to halt its motion.  He didn't seem to know what he wanted to say, but his eyes were staring straight into mine as he tried to think. "Who are you running from?" 

Everything inside of me wanted to scream out 'YOU' but of course I couldn't. I couldn't help myself when I looked him over from head to toe. A thousand memories of his lips against mine, his hands clinging to my body or resting comfortably in my own threatened to send me into hysterics. I could still hear his laughter, the less than innocent sounds he made beneath me. I could still feel his eyelashes against my skin.

I must have backed away from him because he stepped inside and closed the door behind him, leaning back against it.

"I won't tell." 

"Why do you care?" I turned from him, trying to somehow find it in me to yell at him, to say something to get him to leave me in peace, but even though it wasn't my Mitchell, it was.

Alexander's words echoed in my ears. I needed to get out of there and as quickly as possible before I was forced to watch this perfect man suffer because of me...   again. I returned to stuffing things inside of my bags, expecting him to finally leave, but he didn't. The wooden horse was last to go, carefully wrapped as if it were fragile glass. 

"Where are you going?"

"Anywhere.  Elsewhere."

He was quiet again, and his continued presence began to irritate me.  No normal human would walk into a strangers room and expect a happy welcome. If he was a thief he was not very skilled and more than likely would have taken the money and ran. 

"Take me with you." He was quiet and his words surprised me. I spun around to look at him, his eyes sad and timid. 

"Now, why would I do something like that."

He seemed to be having a mental conversation with himself and there was a sudden resolve present in his expression and there was a switch that seemed to be flipped as he lowered his chin, looking up at me through his lashes. That was all it took for me to realize just what my Mitchell had been turned into. It was ironic, Alexander's cruel labeling of my love was now truth. This boy... no..   this man was begging for a savior. 

What he didn't know is I was exactly the opposite. I was his downfall.

"I would offer you ... my services in exchange for protection." He stepped closer, and my arms ached to wrap him up, but my heart was also breaking for him. What had driven him to this... especially in a world where it was considered a crime for a man to lay with another man.  I'd come across many young men in my travels, homeless, desperate for food and if you let your eyes linger too long they would latch on and hope for a chance to earn some coin.  But my Mitchell...

He was like a child as he slid so easily from offering himself to concern as he looked up into my sad eyes. "Have I offended you? It wasn't my intent to make you-" He gasped slightly as I lifted a hand, my fingers touching the scar above his eye. 

"Someone hurt you..." It wasn't a question, I just knew someone had mishandled him and it was heartbreaking to imagine what he had gone through.

He was uncomfortable with my words and he turned his head away from my touch. "A lot of someones hurt me."

"I can't help you."

He looked up at me again and this time it was him reaching for my face, wiping away tears I hadn't realized had fallen. "Please. I need to leave this place. I can't keep  doing this." 

"So leave."

"It's dangerous to travel alone. Please. I don't have much to offer, but I can be useful." 

"You don't understand. I can't be the cause of your death."

"Please...   If I stay here then death is all that waits."

He was too tempting, too beautiful and everything that made me finally feel like a human again.  Every cell in my body reached for him, screamed at me to hold him close and kiss his breath away, but that is exactly what I would do to him...   steal his breath and his life. 

So I ran. I took my bags and I took off, leaving him standing there in a place I didn't even remember the name of.  I didn't make it far, traveling in the dark was more than dangerous, especially alone, but that wasn't my concern. My emotions were on overload and I ended up against a tree crying until I was too exhausted to stay awake.  When I woke, I was no longer alone and the familiar brown eyes stared sheepishly into mine.

This version of my Mitchell was persistent out of necessity.  

"You followed me. Again." 

"You have kind eyes."

"I could be a murderer." I am a murderer.  I'm your murderer. 

He shook his head.  "You aren't running from blood, you are running from pain."

I looked away from him again.  

"You called me Mitchell. You loved him?"

Leave it to him to be so insightful. He's always known how to read me...   always.

"I won't be much of a burden, I don't require much."

He was like a shadow. I tried many times to shake him, but still he followed.  Conversation began to flow easily and somehow the longer he remained trailing behind me the more I began to let myself forget what was sure to happen. There was more than one occasion where I had to protect the both of us, sure that this was the time that I'd hold him in my arms and say goodbye, but still we continued to survive.  

He tried to offer himself on multiple occasions, but no matter the fire in my blood I refused to use him, to take advantage. 

We traveled, town to town, village to village and every time I tried to leave him behind he said it wasn't right. No matter where we were he said that it wasn't home. I began to get comfortable, began to enjoy the constant chattering and rambling of the other man and when he snuggled next to me in the night I couldn't bring myself to send him away.

He grew bolder with his flirtations, playful and teasing. He was different than my Mitchell had been and yet the same in so many different ways. He slowly carved a path right into the center of my heart and my resistance crumbled. I let myself forget, I let myself fall. I let him silence my weak protests with quick fingers and hungry lips.  I gave in, quieting the doubts and fears by occupying my time with the beautiful man.

One full year passed and I was completely and desperately in love all over again. We stayed as long as we could in each town until people began to ask questions and then we would move on, making the most of our days together and the time away from prying eyes.

By the time the second year went by I was beginning to think Alexander's curse had misfired and I would get a second chance to be happy. I still missed Mitchell and it still ached sometimes when Michael would smile at me and it would send me back to those days out by the lake, holding my stable boy in my arms, but Mitchell was gone. 

Michael asked me about him sometimes, and I told him what I could, but I didn't want to frighten him, so I kept most of the truth to myself.

It was nearing our 3rd year when it all happened by complete accident. We had wandered into a rather dense forest simply out of curiosity. We didn't have a plan or any clear direction so why not find the most remote place we could?  

It was there we found a small overgrown cottage.  From initial looks it hadn't been inhabited in quite some time, but one could never be too sure. I was cautious as I stepped through the open door but all i found were the remains of a partially eaten, partially rotted corpse.  From the look of it wild animals had done quite a bit of damage to the inside, but it wasn't anything a bit of work couldn't fix.

It took us a while to get everything back in order, but we managed.  There was enough wildlife to keep us fed and a stream not too terribly far. If we really needed to we could hike the few days walk to the nearest town for provisions, but it was isolated and just enough to keep us in our own little world.

He was happy, always smiling, stealing kisses and singing songs like a songbird.

I felt like my ghosts, my suffering, my pain was all worth it in the end if it led me to this life and this man. 

I should have known better.

Michael had disappeared to gather firewood nearby, something he'd done on more than one occasion prior.  I didn't think anything of it.

Then I heard my name screamed out in a terrified voice. 

I dropped everything and took off running, grabbing the only weapon that was within arms reach at the time... an ax.

I opened my mouth to call his name, but I didn't have to. He yelled out again, this time I could tell it wasn't just fear, he was in pain. Something was attacking him.

When I finally spotted him, I was surprised to see him on the ground, a great black bear hovering over him. I yelled out, the ax up and ready to strike, but it was like a complete change of demeanor in the beast and it quickly turned and disappeared into the trees.

The weapon slid from my hands and I skidded to a stop on the  ground next to Michael. His shirt had been ripped, blood covering most of his upper half.

"No.  No no no no." 

He looked up at me, and I knew it was too late. There was just too much of it....

"No no please. Please don't leave me." I tried to stop the red ...    so much red... but it just kept coming. 

"Scott..."

I reached to wipe the tears from his eyes but all I did was smear blood and dirt and tears across his cheeks. 

"Hold me." He whispered out weakly. 

I was afraid to move him, his arm looked mangled and I didn't want to cause him any more pain than necessary, but slowly I managed to get him in my arms.  He let out a tiny groan of pain as I shifted him, but his eyes looked up into mine and he smiled. 

"You found me."

I assumed he was delirious. Besides, I didn't know what to say in response  and chose instead to just kiss his forehead. 

"I love you to the moon and back, Your Grace."  those words all but stopped my heart. Words I hadn't heard in many, many years and yet were clear as day in my memory. My Mitchell... my beautiful, perfect love..    suffering in my arms once again. 

Alexander.   I knew then that this was his doing.  This curse, this condemnation was real and the worst kind of hell imaginable. How could I do this again?  How could I watch him go through this pain all over again because of me? How ... 

"My King." I whimpered out, tears and sobs taking my breath. Words haven't been invented to express the pain and hopelessness that I realized I would never escape, but why must he endure this torture as well? Why couldn't it be me? Why couldn't I be the one to suffer the horrors that I knew the magician had in store for him.  Why!?

I watched his face scrunch up as he grunted. "It hurts" 

Hearing someone you love in pain and knowing that there is nothing you can do about it is one of the worst forms of torture imaginable. I kissed his lips and then his forehead once again. "I know. I'm so sorry. I swear I will stay away from you. I won't let this happen again.

He smiled weakly, coughing a bit and I watched the red substance just pour from his chest. 

"Find me."

"No... no I can't watch you die because of me. You don't deserve this!" 

"Please find me."

"I love you so much."

It took much longer this time, and even when his eyes closed it took quite some time before his body went cold.

I'm not sure how long I sat there, eyes wide and manic as I just stared at his face, not wanting to let him go.  

I buried him at the top of the hill, one of the few places the sun would shine through the trees. I stayed there for hours before I made my way to the stream to wash the dirt and his blood from my body.

I cursed Alex with every word I knew before begging for respite, for mercy. 

These were all things I'd done before and would continue to do for many years, but I never received an answer. 

The cycle began anew and I was back to my suffering, this time in complete isolation.