Distance to North Star

Author's note: I'm not sure if I should label this with Gay/Lesbian, but since I'm confused, I just put it. Okay, this story is about a director and an actor's love story over seventeen years of knowing each other. And I'm going to say this first, they're not gay (that's why I'm confused). They just happened to fall in love, maybe at the wrong person, or at the wrong time.

Prologue

Johann Bell:

         I had some few things I regretted not doing in my life, and each of them left indelible marks of their own that are visible somewhere in the way I am now. And I believe a short time like ten years will not be able to shatter a part of it. So, in atonement for myself, I promised to not let the chains—of doubt, hesitations, and fear—stop me from doing the things I want; despite of the disapproving eyes of society.
         By saying those above, I might’ve sounded fearless and unstoppable, but of course, if I’d literally disregard anything that’d hinder my goal, like natural and moral law, then I might’ve failed, in a way, to be classified as a human being, right? It’s because we have morality and rules to follow that differentiate us from other living creatures. Concluding that, limitations are inevitable. So I’ll prevent myself from entering something that I know will only bring me pain and sleepless nights.
         At least I hoped for the latter…

Tilden Derham:

         What could’ve I done? It’s wrong, and primarily, I was with someone at that time. Too late or not, even if time ticked back to the moment he confessed to me, I don’t think I would’ve changed my mind. My answer would’ve been the same.
         “I’m sorry, Jo...” That was all I uttered.
         There were so many things I wanted to say, but the moment I opened my mouth, the thoughts dispersed in my mind, and I couldn’t make out a normal sentence out of it.
         If I only didn’t panic, if I only stayed calm and told him what I originally intended to say, maybe things wouldn’t have turned out the way it is now.
         Well, that’s only a theory. It was really unpredictable.






Chapter One

Johann Bell:

         I first met Tilden seventeen years ago, when I was drinking my ass off the sadness from quarrelling with Hannah, my current girlfriend at that time. The night was lively, full of vigour, so I tried to go with the flow and enjoyed myself while talking to complete strangers who sat next to me at the bar counter, with some hitting and flirting if they only happened to be a beautiful woman. But I wasn’t looking for a one night stand.
         At least, that was what I planned to.
         “Good evening, sir. What would you like to drink?” said the bartender.
         “One Single Malt Scotch, please,” Said the man in a black suit who just sat next to me.
         The bartender nodded and went away.
         Looking closely, he seemed someone with money on him, but, not someone who could afford an expensive drink. I guess appearances can really deceive us.
         “Hi, I’m… Jo.” I couldn’t really say my real name. That would’ve spoiled the whole Hi-I’m-And-You kinda thing, especially if he knew who I was. He was a bit hesitant at first, looking at my offered hand and face twice before shaking it.
         “Ted.” He finally spoke.
         “What brought you here, Ted? Are you alone or someone’s gonna follow you here?” I asked. Somehow, I could feel my vision getting slightly blurry, and my thinking wasn’t a hundred percent straight anymore. That was funny coz’ I only just drank seven shots.
         “No, I’m alone…”
         “Don’t you have a girl?”
         I was sure he was going to say something, by the long look from his eyes that bore into mine, yet he let it go. Maybe talking to a drunken stranger wasn’t worth his time.
         “I don’t have…”
         “Oh, is that so. You don’t have to be sad. I can be your company for the night.” I sounded like I was trying to get this girl for the night. But I clearly knew he’s a guy, because it was impossible to mistake him as a female.
         “Ha-ha. Yeah, right. You’re pretty drunk, aren’t ya?” After briefly laughing, he drank his second shot.
         As insincere as it might’ve sounded to him, however, I did take it seriously. Be it the effect of alcohol consumption or stupidity, I was willing to be his company for the night—for no reason.
         “Totally not. Do I look drunk?”
         “No, but you sound drunk.” And he lightly laughed, again.
         “That isn’t a joke, though.” I fully faced him. My eyes were slightly blurred, but I clearly knew what we were talking about. I, also, don’t know why I said that, but I guess there is something in him that I find comforting and trusting. I felt at ease around him.
         “…Ha-ha. How old are you, Jo?”
         Funnily, I found the question out of the blue.
         “Twenty-three. And you?” I said.
         “Twenty-nine.”
         “Not bad. I thought you were in your middle thirties.”
         “Many people already told me that.”
         “Maybe it’s just because of your hair cut, or the way you dress. Your face looks smooth, though.”
         “Thanks, I guess.” He said hesitantly, and drank his third shot in a single swallow.
         
         As the night gradually went deeper, he slowly warmed up and told me about his recent break up with his girlfriend. We continued to casually drink, laugh, and talk about almost anything that entered our mind. Then, we went out of the bar and continued laughing our ass off while walking around the city. Suddenly, past the square plaza, we noticed a policeman making his way to us through the crowd—he must’ve thought we were going to do some trouble around. In an attempt to lose him, and not to get any questions, we immediately looked for a place to go in, and the hotel just a few feet from us looked perfect.
         Like a bunch of kids, we continued to laugh inside the room until we got tired and decided to sleep in for the night.
         I don’t know if it started from little seductions, or we both felt the heat of the moment, or who initiated the whole thing, and by that, we already crossed the border of our new friendship.
         But the most awkward thing was to face each other the next morning in bed.

To be Continued. . .