Chase

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In a place filled with deep silences, Hutch tends to a secret.

 

This began as a drabble, responding to the prompt, “Chase.” But drabbles fit in matchboxes, and my words outgrew the small space to fill a breadbox. So, I decided to post them here. Hope everyone’s having a great week so far!

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Hutch slid back against the mattress, listening as Starsky’s laughter rang out over the TV soundtrack. The sound was familiar and promised safety – like an all clear signal after a crisis. The television’s blue light washed onto the bed, a pathway beckoning him to sleep.

Drowsy-drunk, a taunting thought snagged him.

Chasing Starsky is like chasing the tail of a meteor.

An understatement if there ever was one. Starsky was an enigma whose spirit defied the laws of gravity.

Like the good student he’d always been, Hutch studied those laws, untangled the formulas bit by bit, and perfected the chase.

…The high-speed chase that Starsky baits me into – the one that ends in a crash of fire and lust…the one that leads from the chaos we chase every day to private surrender in this bed.

Hutch flipped onto his stomach, his body still aching from Starsky’s rough wooing.

He relished the bruises brushed with kisses, the endearments bundled with curses.

To chase Starsky was to step into the vortex, acknowledge danger ahead, and sign on to a heart-jolting ride.

But to catch Starsky and keep him…what about that?

Hutch closed his eyes.

I may never know.

Starsky laughed again, softer this time.

Hutch bunched the pillow tighter.

There’s word or ten for coveting what you might never have. “Greedy.” “Foolish.” “Hopeless.” “Dreamer.” And I’m all of those things.

Hutch knew how to keep a secret, and he had a fine one.

I want more – I want all of Starsky. Finders keepers – for now and for good.

There it was. His secret. He kept up a good front – pretending the supply and demand curve in his complicated relationship with Starsky was equal.

And, of course, he rationalized. It wasn’t dishonest to keep his longing hidden away, not at all. Or at least that’s how he sold himself on the lack of disclosure.

After all, what is the worst wrong I could inflict on Starsky?

To demand more than he has to give me.

Starsky loved him. No doubt there. Sure, love came on Starsky’s terms and in Starsky’s own way. But those facts did nothing to diminish anything.

Was wanting more, and perhaps never receiving his wish, too high a price to pay?

No.

Hutch bedded down with his secret, holding it as protectively as he held his partner.

He trusted his salt-of-the-earth-Minnesota-bred reserve to keep him safe, as it always did – as it always had.

But night journeys chase their own yearnings…

…And his dreams, kept masked in the daylight, carried on through the night.

~finis~