Just as all stories have a beginning so they must come to an end. But as with the creation of a beginning the drawing of an end begs the same problems.

How should a story end?

When should it end?

Should a story end when inspiration runs dry? Or should it end once the story has been told? But then again is a sory ever completely told, does inspiration ever truly dry up. Maybe for once character, but no character is self contained. They influence and are influenced by others, which in turn spawns a thousand more stories to be told. In truth an end, like a beginning is simply an arbitrary moment in time at which the writer choses to lay down their pen and label it 'The End.'

Like all the stories that have proceeded it and alll of those that will succeed it. This throw away tale is drawing closer to that moment where the curtains will close and the house lights come to life. The actors quietly ushered back stage to prepare for the next pantomine the muses beg penned. But until that moment the story shall cotinue on.

The gaze of Huang Zi Tao, friend turned antagonist, has always been, in the mind of Kris, a small tear in the fabric of time. From the fledging moments of their friendship to its evolution and distortion it in the lie it now is, Kris has always thoughts so. Something in the younger man's dark eyes when they fall on Kris cuts him free the passage of time. Around him the world keeps moving, but Kris himself slows down as he slips into the timeless vaccum of Tao's gaze. It has been so long since the young man has honestly looked at him, that it takes Kris a moment to recognise the disorientating way in which time pauses around him. 

It's a familiar sensation, slipping back into the void, but Kris can't remember it ever being cold. The timeles void in Huang Zi Tao's gaze used to be warm and comforting. But now its cold and uninviting. Kris' breath almost turns to smoke before his eyes as the bone deep cold crystalises like frost on the leather bound book in his chest. The lock groans in protest, worn and battered from years of abuse and neglect, its mechanisms turn brittle, webs of hairline fractures splaying out over it. A deep throbbing ache tighens around Kris's heart as the bitter vaccum in which he is catch the warmth from him. He wants to break free of the younger man's gaze, escape the black hole of his gaze, but guilt holds him fast. It's his fault that the warmth has left Huang Zi Tao's eyes, so he should suffer it in penance.

Then as suddenly as it stopped, time restarts as Tao looks down at himself. "" he hisses through his teeth as he stands, shaking cocoa and froth from his hands as he looks down at what was once his columbian blend now running down his shirt. He plucks at the shirt, pulling it from his scolded skin in an effort to sooth the burn.

Released from the timeless void of Huang Zi Tao's gaze Kris feeling a string of pitiful apologies grow on the tip of his tongue as his body thaws and his mind finally catches up with what has happened. He makes to reach for Tao's shirt, to somehow fix this, to clean him up, but Tao simply bats his hand away. "Don't", he bites out as he steps away from the table. Not another word or glance spared for Kris as he stalks of to the restroom. In his chest Kris feeling the padlock on his leather bound book crack.

The sting of Tao's hand feels raw on Kris' skin. Around him patrons watch him, judge him, secretly laugh at his misfortune, but he doesn't notice. Nor does he hear the complaints ofl Tao's friends beside him. They're just distant white noise to the echo of Tao's voice. Once again he feels cold. The young man's rejection having stripped him bare. That one word, That one act. The embodiement of everything Kris feared, the reason he held the young man at arms length for so long.

Kris tries to swallow down the handful of apologies that had gathered on the tip of his tongue but they won't go down, instead they catch in his throat, choking him. He feels sick to his stomach, only his stomach has fallen through his feet. With out a second thought Kris abandons the mess he's made, weaving through the table to the back of the cafe. He's just knows he's going to throw up. As he reaches the back corner of the cafe tucked away behind a decorative wall designed to keep the location of the restroom discrete, Kris throw his arm out at the swing door, thoughts on only one thing, curling up in a cubicle and coughing up all the toxic feeling and bile that are warring in his somach.

Only he doesn't make it to a cubicle.

Huang Zi Tao is hunched over the sink - flurescent light playing off a black tattoo between his shoulder blades that Kris never knew the young man had - scrubbing at the coffee stain on his hight black graffitti v-neck tee as he holds it under the faucet. As Kris bursts in he looks up, catching the older man in his timeless gaze once more in the reflection of the glass. But this time Kris doesn't slip into the void of Tao's gaze, the glass stripping it of its power. 

Nonetheless Tao's eyes him coldly as though Kris had not right to be there after what he'd done.

All feelings of sickness in Kris' stomach fades away under the scrutiny of the younger man's harsh glare, leaving only the apologies that he tried to swallow. 'I-I'm s-' He begins, pitiful apologies trying to find his voice, but Huang Zi Tao only scoffs.

'Don't bother.' He dismisses, looking back down at the shirt in his hand. 'It's already ruined. Nothing you say's gonna fix it.'

'I'll pay for it.' Kris says, the words tumbling out pathetically before he has a chance to even think them over, making the offer feel empty and heartless.

With a frustrated huff turns Tao turns of the faucet and tosses the shirt into the dustbin. 'I said don't bother'. He snaps as he reaches for the paper towl dispenser, tugging free a sheet or two to dry his hands, before tossing the used tissue into the bin after the shirt.

Kris can't help, stare at the dustbin incredulously. He's never known Tao to be of such a short temper. The Tao he knows, or rather remembers, is a calm individual, one who would not discard any thing in such away. It's then as his eyes leave the bin, only to fall of the tattoo below the dark-haired young man's nape, that Kris realises that this is a Tao he doesn't know; realises that he has held the other at arms length for so long that a stranger now stands before him. This realisation strikes at a fracture on the paddle lock in his chest, turning it into a crack that splinters some of the mechanisms. The bar slips a fraction and Kris can feel the small leather bound in his chest threatening to burst open.

Tao turns to face Kris, "Now, do you mind?" a bitter edge to his otherwise soft voice.

It takes Kris a moment to realise that he's still standing by the door, blocking Tao's exit. He makes to move out of the olther's way, but pauses. Tao used to be his best friend, his little brother, his confidant, his partner in crime, and though they haven't exchanged anything more than brief courtesies and small talk for the better part of two years part of him still thinks, still hopes that Tao considers him a friend, if not a brother. It pains him that he's let fear drive its transparent wedge between them. Now will most likely be the last chance he gets to some how reconcile it.

"How have you been?" He asks. It's pathetic, Kris knows, but he doesn't know how else to start repairing the distance between them.

"What?" The question catches Tao of guard. He has little chance to sound as cold as he did before and mask the genuine suprise in his voice.

"I asked how you've been?" Kris repeats his confidence flagging, as Tao eyes the door. If he walks out now the it's over. The ache in his chest returns at the thought, pulling tight around his heart and the small leather bound book.

"Fine. I guess." Tao replies uncertainly, side-eyeing Kris as though trying to figure out the older man's end game. It reminds Kris of their first conversation. A moment recorded perfectly on the first yellowed page of the leather bound in his chest. As a withdrawn first year highschooler, Tao had side-eyed the university freshman Kris in much the same way he was now - suspicious of his motives - when the older had attempted to strike up a conversation about the song he'd been listening too.

Kris is tense. The response gives him little to work with. Tao his keeping him at arms length, like one would a stranger. It hurts to think this is what they've come to; all because he couldn't face up to the story that was being penned in his heart. But Kris doesn't move and he can see how it irritates the younger man. 

Tao is restless, eager to get out and return to his friends. He keeps eyeing the door over Kris' shoulder. For a few moments none of them says anything. Then Tao, obviously sick of waiting, moves to push past Kris, but the older man catches him around the waist.

"I'm sorry."

"You've already apologised, so let me go." Tao snaps, suddenly hostile, eyes tearing shreds from Kris as he pushes at the older man's arm.

The bite of Tao's hand on his wrist shatters the last remaining mechanisms of the failing padlock in Kris' chest. "I'm sorry I pushed you way. You're like a brother to me and I hate tha-"

" you, Kris." Tao growls, pulling free of Kris' grip to step back a few paces. He's shaking, while anger pulls him taught. ". You."

The words sound raw and poisonous on the young man's tongue as though its the first time he's ever truly spoken them in anger. It surprises Kris. Of course as friends they had their fair share 'of fights and blow outs, but he's never seen Tao fire up so quickly, so violently. "If I were like a brother to yo-,... You don't even kno-... God." Tao curses, struggling to string together his thoughts. He meets Kris' disbelieving gaze for a second and his anger burns way, leaving only apathy in its ashes.

"You know what, it. A brother would have been there for me when I needed them, instead of pushing me away." He sighs bitterly, running a hand through his hair. Kris makes to deny the accqusation in the younger man's voice, but Tao cuts him off.

"Don't worry, I get it. Who's got time for, or even needs a little brother when they've got their own life to live. Sorry about holding you back all these years." The dry laugh Tao trials off into sounds so brittle against Kris' ears and riffles at the discoloured pages of the leather bound story in his chest.

Once again Tao steps forward to make for the door, his hand falling on Kris' shoulder in a half-hearted attempt to move him aside. But the touch jolts the leather bound book and it bursts apart, sending ink stained pages flying into the air. Tao only has time to gasp before his back hits the door frame, Kris' lips on his own as the scattering pages bursting into flames. A cascade of brilliant red and amber hues raining down on Kris' heart. All the pain of the small leather bound in his chest burning away as he opens it up for Tao to see. Every cherished memory, every denied feeling, every fear, layed out. The flame burn away the years of wear on the tattered pages, restoring them to the glory and vibrance of the day they were written. Each memory painted anew in vivid colour as the fire in Kris' chest melts the lock on a small moleskin journal tucked away in the corner of Tao's heart. 

The distace between them ignites as the journal too bursts into flames, stealing the air from their lungs as secrets are shared and bodys melt into one another.

A small band falls to the linoleum floor as long fingers tangle in a shag of loose dark hair. Breath entwined as the flash fire between them tempers to a slow burn. "I always wanted to be there for you. To be everything to you." Kris whispers against Tao lips, eyes closed afraid that if he opens them this moment will turn out to be nothing more than a dream.

"But you weren't." Tao's words are harsh, but his tone is honest as his fingers toy with the hair on the back of Kris' neck. "So don't think yourself forgiven."

Kris can't help but smile at the small promise hidden beneath the veil of Tao's words. The promise of a new beginning, a new story to share between them as this one comes to a close. A story, that unlike this throw away tale, begins at a specific moment in time. The moment when two secret stories, kept tucked away in the corners of two seperate hearts, colided and burst into flame. A story born from the ashes of fear and denial. A story that sadly must be left to be told for another time, saved for another day when muses beg it penned and told. A story that will unfold from this arbitrary moment in time that has been labelled,

THE END.