Cool Fools 9: Heaven

***The teasers I described for this chapter all do happen in the reality of the character's world...they may be play on words, but there are no dream sequences. Ethan White does GET KILLED! Adam White does go to Woody's apartment to find his date. And everyone will in end in HELL. But I promise you all, it's a happy ending!***

Woody Anderson sat listlessly, barely breathing, barely blinking. All he could do was stare at the gray clock hanging by a single nail on the white wall of the living room. The seconds hand ticked incessantly, loudly and rather annoyingly, slowly edging the minutes hand to the number 12 at the top of the hour.

It was 5 o’clock in the evening now. A full 24 hours since the last time he saw or heard anything from Ethan White. After refusing to marry Ethan at the courthouse, Woody had come home yesterday to an empty house, and had lied awake that night waiting for Ethan to come back. But morning came without a sign from Ethan, and Woody forced himself to go to school, telling himself that Ethan would come back when he got home.

Evidently, Woody’s prediction did not come true…

He should have gone through with it. He should have married Ethan. It would happen, eventually, sooner or later. Why didn’t he just marry Ethan yesterday? And today, they’d be on their honeymoon. They’d be together. Most importantly, they would be happy together.

But now, all Woody could do was sit and wait. Wait for the phone to ring, to hear Ethan’s voice, reassuring him that everything was fine, that their relationship was not over. Or better yet….wait to see the door open, to see Ethan run in and hug him and say he forgave Woody. He desperately waited to feel the pitter-patter inside Ethan’s chest synchronize with his own.

Ding Dong! Ding Dong!

Woody’s heart skipped a beat, or three. Suddenly remember to breathe, he gasped. With muscles and nerves of his limbs rewiring, the young man jolted from the couch and hurtled over the ottoman to the door. With shaky hands, he rattled at the brass knob. With a hard jerk, he swung the door wide. With a great agonizing sigh, Woody felt his heart plummet a million feet.

Standing behind the screen door was a man six foot 2 inches tall…the height of Ethan White. Brown, suavely styled hair and brilliant blue eyes, great sculpted skull behind a stretch of perfectly complexioned skin…all very similar to Ethan White. With a hypnotic smile, looking somewhat more devilish, and bad-boy macho than Ethan…it was the cousin Adam White. In a halfway buttoned shirt and faded jeans, he was for some reason holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand.

“Wait, you live here?” asked Adam in a rather high, surprised voice.
“Yeah! Can I help you?” Woody asked in a rather low, depressed tone.

“Is Ethan around?”
“No!” sighed Woody annoyingly, “Can I help you with something?”
“This is 134 West Summer Street, Apartment 12 right?”
“Uh yeah!”
“Do you know…if anyone else is staying here…?”
“Ethan’s dad lived here for about a month…but not anymore…”

“So this is…134 West Summer Street, Apartment 12?”
“Yes!” groaned Woody. “Unless a tornado struck this place and I didn’t know it…this is still the same address.”
“West Summer Street. Not East Summer Street?” Adam wanted more affirmation.

“There are no apartment complexes in the east part of Summer Street,” Woody informed. “And who’s the bouquet for, anyhow?”

“Nothing. Nobody.” Adam took a step back, “Okay, well…thanks for…you know…thanks. Have a good day, man. And say hi to Ethan for me.”

Not wanting Adam anymore ammo to shoot with, Woody made no mention of Ethan’s MIA for the last twenty-four hours. Instead, he nodded slowly and shut the door.

He was somewhat glad that his mind was distracted by this peculiar incident. It seemed obvious that Adam was trying to meet someone. Possibly a girl who liked big yellow flowers. But why did she give him this address? Did she give him a fake address to get him to stop hitting on her? Woody took much delight in seeing Adam’s face as he realized he was being stood up.

But as Woody plopped back down on the couch, that momentary spark of humor flickered out, inviting back the forlorn thoughts that ached his body and seized his mind. What was Ethan doing right now? Where was he? Why hasn’t he returned his calls? Did something happen to Ethan? Was he in trouble? Was he okay? Please...God, let Ethan walk through that door right now.

After a while, Woody returned his eyes to the clock. The two hands were pointing directly opposite, the longer one at 12, the shorter one at 6. A month ago, it would have been dark outside at six o’clock. But as summer approaches, the sun lingered in the sky, still bright, sunshine still pouring through the curtain, inviting the lonely boy outside…

Woody finally stood up. The young man remembered how pathetic he was during the two weeks Ethan was gone for New York, how he had tumbled in a world of dissipation, how he could barely crawl out from it, how Ethan had been quite disappointed in his behavior. He wasn’t going to let Ethan see him like that again. When Ethan comes back…Ethan will come back…he would see that his boyfriend was a responsible adult…needing the love that Ethan can provide, but able to function normally without it.

Woody went for a run. The young man has always kept his body in tip-top shape, working out a least four times a week. But he had always stuck to his exercise schedule, never did anymore or any less than he had prescribed in his planner. But today, at the moment, all Woody wanted to do was run. Aimless. Directionless. No limit on time. Just run wherever there was a sidewalk. To relieve stress. To clear his mind. Just for the hell of it. Just for the fun of it.

It was nine o’clock when Woody returned to the apartment complex. He looked around the parking lot. Still not seeing Ethan’s truck anywhere, a little disappointment overcame him, but his naturally gained supply of serotonin cushioned the blow. What Woody should have noticed was another car…a shabby old yellow Volkswagen parked in front of the apartment. It wasn’t until Woody came within twenty feet when he recognized the owner of the car.

“REED?” Woody hollered, happily surprised, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m coming for the Renaissance Festival, remember?” said Reed Valentine, “Told you last week.”
“Oh, I totally forgot!” Woody said honestly. He pulled out the set of keys from his pocket and opened the locked door, “Come on in.”

Reed set his stuffed backpack on a chair and looked around the place. “Wow, this place seems very cozy.”
Woody snorted, “Yeah, if by cozy you mean small.”
“Well, it’s a lot better than the dorms back at Southwind University. And the decoration of this living room really makes great use of the small space.”

Woody nodded, “That’s all Ethan’s touch.”
“I’m sorry I’ve never came up to visit until now.”
“Well, I’m more sorry I never came back to visit, other than my birthday.”

“Yeah, we have so much to talk about,” said Reed excitedly, “Your love life. My love life. I know we call each other like every other day, but I miss watching you talk. Watching your lips move so prettily and sexily is the best part of conversing with you.”

Woody rolled his eyes, “Why do you always have to say stuff to make it so awkward between us?”
“Sorry!” Reed chuckled, “I just forgot how cute you were…but anyhow, I got a boyfriend. So no worries, I won’t be hitting on you anymore. Besides, Ethan’s gonna beat me up if I start making out with you under his roof….where is he, by the way?”

Woody cleared his throat and proceeded to recount the story of Ethan’s struggle with his parents divorce and of how he wanted to marry Woody at the courthouse yesterday and of how Woody hadn’t seen Ethan since the rejection. He also mentioned how he called Ethan’s cell several hundred million times an hour and Ethan hadn’t replied, not once. Even Ethan’s parents were out of touch.

“Have you called the police?” Reed asked.
“What? Why?” Woody face turned crimson, “Do you think Ethan’s in trouble. Oh, my god. I should have called the police, shouldn’t I?” All the serotonin he had gained from exercise had quickly depleted as he remembered something, “Ethan’s been diagnosed with depression. He left his medicine at home. Oh my shit! Why didn’t I think of calling the police? That’s the first thing I should have done! Oh my fucking shit! What do you think happened to Ethan?”

“Nothing,” Reed said, opening his arms to receive his best friend, “Shouldn’t have got you all worked up. I’m sure Ethan’s fine. Nothing in his character would indicate he’d do anything reckless. He’s probably just staying a few nights at a hotel and giving himself time to process the divorce.”

“He called me Woody!” the 19-year-old revealed in horror.
Reed shrugged, not understanding the significance, “So? What’s the problem? Isn’t that what you want to be called?”
“No! Not by him. He always calls me Sherwood. Always. I love it when he does,” said Woody, “But…after I turned him down…he called me Woody! He hated me so much he called me Woody!”

“Oh, come on,” said Reed, stroking Woody’s back, “Ethan loves you. You love Ethan. I don’t think anything’s gonna happen that will ever change that.”

As the night gradually progressed, Woody and Reed found themselves lying in bed together. Woody had always considered Reed to be his best friend. They’ve shared such a lively childhood. Though Woody grew up to be the more popular of the two, he could easily imagine the opposite happening if Reed had been more comfortable with his sexuality earlier. He could imagine Reed getting anybody he wanted if he put on few more pounds of meat on that tall, toned frame of his.

But now in college, Reed began to bulk up. With swimming as his favorite form of exercise, the waves of the water had cut him a nice fit body that any guy would love to have. His face had always been ‘cute,’ but now boosted with extra confidence and an easy-going charm, it was undeniable…Reed Valentine was hot!

And for Woody Anderson…Reed being hot was a problem. Back in high-school when Reed was still merely cute, the two best friends have experimented once or twice. Whenever they were alone in closed quarters, whenever they found themselves shirtless in front of each other, it would often lead into something sexual. Usually it was Reed who would make the first move. And Woody, not wanting his best friend to feel rejected, would give into his desire. Reed still made sexual advances with Woody even when he was dating Ethan, but of course, Woody had always played the “If you keep hitting on me…I’m afraid we can’t be friends any longer…” card to deal with those situations. But now that Reed was hotter than he’s ever been, if Reed made a move…Woody wasn’t so sure he could resist him.

That was why Woody preferred to talk to Reed over the phone.

Ever since he gained the great body and had someone to appreciate it, Reed now loved to sleep in the buff, but Woody flat-out forbid it from happening. So they settled on Reed sleeping only in his boxer-briefs and tanktop.

“Ah, much better,” said Reed as he pulled off his sweatpants, “Hey, why aren’t you sleeping in your birthday suit?”

“Because Ethan might come back during the middle of the night,” said Woody, “And even though we trust each other 110% and we dealt with our jealousy issues a long time ago, I’d rather not have to explain to him about nothing that went on.”

“Have you talked to any of the Welling twins lately?”
“Yeah, to Billy,” said Woody, “I noticed he doesn’t stutter anymore. He says his girlfriend has helped him get over it. If that’s true, she must be something special.”

Reed snorted, “Yeah, well, she’s a 25 year old speech therapist!”
“Oh, okay. That explains it,” said Woody, “And how’s Jimmy doing? I know he’s studying abroad this semester, but I forgot where.”

“A small university town in England. And from his recent calls, it seems like he’s doing fine in the dating arena. Girls over there tend to like skinny guys like him,” said Reed, “Seems like us Freakin’ Four aren’t freaks anymore.”

“Speaking of freaks! Remember the gay virus?” asked Woody, “That was seriously the stupidest thing I’ve ever came up with. And I’ve came up with some stinkers.”
“It wasn’t as stupid as you think!” said Reed, “You saved my ass on that one. My parents were gonna put me in some Christian de-gay-ing institution, but thanks to you, they didn’t!”
“So how do they feel about it now?”
“Oh, well…they’re coming around to it,” said Reed, “Is your dad over the shock of you still engaged to Ethan?”

“For the most part!” laughed Woody, “But when I visit, he still sneaks in some heterosexual porn mags in my suitcase…just to entice me back to the straight side.”
“So, what do you do with them? Throw em in the trash?” asked Reed.

“Hell No!” Woody shook his head, “Those chicks are hot! I scanned a page of this brunette and loaded into my computer and saved it as my desktop background.”

“How does Ethan feel about that?”
“Uh, I guess he’s fine since I got the idea from him!”

For the rest of the hours of darkness, their conversation continued in that manner of light, humorous banter. Reassured often by Reed that Ethan was fine, that Ethan was not the type to get himself into any kind of trouble, Woody was able for the most part to push the negative thoughts to the back of his mind and was really enjoying the rare company of his best friend that he had only seen twice in the last year.