A Hug...or Something

 

 

A Hug…or Something

 

 

 

"Angelo Sanchez? ... Mr. Sanchez?" the slow-talking preacher raised a fuzzy eyebrow.

 

"Ah! Yes--I mean I do!" The young high school student and freelance painter looked afraid, but London didn't. It was not a real marriage. It was like something foreigners do for the green card. In their story it was a million dollars, offered to the very first couple who celebrate their union in the overly adorned Southeastern Church founded by a filthy-rich, openly gay man who decided to challenge the world and show them that even homosexual couples deserve just as fancy ceremonies, but the gorgeous award was personally from the founder's wallet, and the death of the founder meant the death of the cash as well.

 

"I now pronounce you: husband and husband. You may--"

 

"That's funny." Angelo's laugh echoed across the empty alter,

 

"What is funny, Mr. Sanchez?" the preacher was neither amused nor interested to know.

 

"Because, you'd normally say: husband and wife. Hah, you know? … Eh, forget it." Angelo decided even the preacher might have something against homosexuality, or maybe he was just having suspicions about how sincere the whole union was. Angelo took a step invading more of London's personal space, stretching his feet to reach the older boy's height, "Maybe we should hug or something," London hadn't noticed before but the boy's Latin accent sounded funny in serious situations, "just to make him feel like we're a real couple, you know?" and his breath was warm against London's ear and neck.

 

"Alright." Was all London said before slightly pushing Angelo backwards from his shoulders, leaning forward and downward to crash his lips into the younger boy's.

 

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

The story is falling together. I like how you made the chapters fall together and have a purpose. A interesting chapter. Hard to fake love when there is none. A excellent chapter.
Coyote