pzb.drawingblood-第36部分

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t　kept　him　awake　all　night。　He　was　used　to　sleeping　in　unfamiliar　beds；　but　always　alone。　What　happened　when　you　woke　up　in　bed　with　someone？　What　were　you　supposed　to　do？
　　The　shoulder　moved　beneath　his　hand；　and　Trevor　felt　muscles　shifting　liquidly；　bones　rotating　in　their　sockets；　the　smooth　texture　of　skin　under　his　palm。　He　felt　the　spine　arch　and　ripple　against　his　chest。　He　realized　he　had　never　thought　about　how　much　anatomy　you　could　learn　by　touching　someone。
　　Then　Zach　rolled　over　and　looked　at　him　with　those　almond…shaped　dark　green　eyes；　those　eyes　that　were　the　exact　shade　of　a　colored　pencil　Trevor　had　once　worn　down　to　a　nub。　It　was　a　pencil　he　used　for　coloring　deep　waters　and　strange　shadows；　and　it　had　been　labeled　simply　JADE。
　　Zach　looked　at　him　and　smiled　without　saying　anything。　Even　yesterday；　even　before　the　rain　it　had　seemed　that　Zach　was　seeing　too　much　of　him；　was　perhaps　halfhearing　his　thoughts。　I　don't　mind　being　in　bed　with　you；　Trevor　thought；　not　really　wanting　Zach　to　hear　it　but　perversely　hoping　he　would。　/　don't　mind　being　this　close　to　you。　I　don't　seem　to　mind　it　at　all。
　　Like　a　dark　pulsar　from　the　depths　of　his　subconscious；　on　the　heels　of　that　thought　came：　Yes；　you　could　learn　anatomy　by　touching　someone。　But　Bobby　took　that　method　to　its　worst　extreme；　didn't　he？
　　And　that　was　when　he　noticed　the　tiny　bits　of　paper　scattered　across　the　blanket；　over　the　pillow；　through　the　tangle　of　Zach's　dark　hair。
　　He　reached　out　and　took　one。　Zach　turned　his　head　to　look；　and　his　cheek　barely　grazed　the　back　of　Trevor's　hand。　Trevor　held　the　scrap　of　paper　close　to　his　eyes；　trying　to　see　it　in　the　poor　light。　It　was　less　than　half　an　inch　square；　but　its　heavy　texture　felt　terribly　familiar。　He　sifted　through　a　few　more　scraps。　Pencil　marks；　mostly　unidentifiable　lines　and　shading。　But　here　and　there　a　detail　had　survived。　A　hastily　lettered　word。　A　pair　of　lips　sealed　around　the　mouthpiece　of　an　alto　saxophone。　A　dark　eye　filling　with　blood。
　　Zach　propped　himself　on　one　elbow；　shook　the　stuff　out　of　his　hair。　〃What　is　it？〃
　　But　Trevor　was　already　up　off　the　mattress；　out　of　the　room；　running　down　the　hall　and　slamming　into　the　studio。　He　had　left　his　sketchbook　neatly　centered　on　the　drawing　table。　Now　it　lay　wide　open　at　a　crazy　angle　on　the　floor；　its　spiral　spine　pulled　askew　by　whatever　force　had　ripped　out　the　five　pages　of　his　story。　The　sight　gave　him　a　sick　sensation　in　his　stomach。
　　He　picked　up　the　sketchbook。　It　felt　dirty；　as　if　the　pages　were　lightly　coated　with　slime。　Trevor　supposed　they　might　be。　He　made　himself　hold　it　between　the　thumb　and　forefinger　of　his　left　hand；　made　himself　walk　slowly　back　down　the　hall　instead　of　caroming　off　the　walls；　beating　his　head　against　the　door　frames；　or　simply　throwing　himself　to　the　floor　and　sobbing。
　　Zach's　hands　were　full　of　the　scraps　of　paper。　He　was　trying　to　examine　them　in　the　watery　light　from　the　window。　Trevor　held　up　the　sketchbook。　As　Zach　made　out　what　it　was；　a　stricken　expression　dawned　on　his　face。　〃Not　the　Bird　story？〃
　　So　he　had　read　it；　the　little　snoop。　Trevor　couldn't　bring　himself　to　care　much　now。　〃Yeah；　that's　it　you're　holding。〃
　　Zach　spread　his　hands　and　let　the　fragments　flutter　to　the　floor。　He　rubbed　his　palms　together　to　dislodge　the　ones　that　had　stuck；　then　started　brushing　them　off　the　pillow　and　blanket。　〃Did　you　。　。　。　were　you　。　。　。〃
　　He　read　the　question　in　Zach's　face。　Zach　was　wondering　if　Trevor　could　have　torn　up　the　story　himself。　The　realization　didn't　even　make　Trevor　angry；　he　supposed　it　was　a　reasonable　enough　doubt。　〃I　was　in　bed　with　you　all　night；〃　he　said。　〃You　know　I　was。　I　could　just　as　well　ask　you　the　same　thing。〃
　　〃But　I　didn't…〃
　　〃I　know　you　didn't。〃
　　〃What　are　you　gonna　do？〃
　　〃Draw　it　again；　I　guess。〃
　　Zach　started　to　speak；　stopped；　then　could　not　seem　to　help　himself。　〃But　。　。　。　but　。　。　。　Trevor　。　。　。〃
　　〃What？〃
　　〃Aren't　you　pissed？〃
　　〃What？　That　you　read　my　story？〃
　　〃No；〃　Zach　said　impatiently。　〃I'm　sorry　but　。。。　no。　I　mean；　aren't　you　mad　that　it's　gone？〃
　　Trevor　sat　down　on　the　edge　of　the　mattress。　He　looked　at　Zach；　who　was　leaning　forward；　his　hands　clenched　into　fists　against　his　bare　chest；　his　muscles　tensed；　his　eyes　very　wide　and　blazing。　〃Well；　you　obviously　are。〃
　　〃Why　aren't　you？　It　destroyed　your　work　and　threw　it　in　your　face！　How　can　you　not　be　pissed？〃
　　Trevor　took　a　deep　breath。　〃There's　something　in　this　house。　I　think　it　might　be　my　family。〃
　　〃Yeah；　I　think　maybe　so　too。　And　you　know　what　I'd　do　if　I　were　you？　I'd　say　so　fucking　what　and　get　the　hell　out　of　here。　If　it'll　tear　up　your　work；　it'll　hurt　you。〃
　　〃I　don't　care。〃
　　Zach　opened　his　mouth　to　reply；　could　not　find　anything　to　say　and　closed　it　again。
　　〃If　I　hadn't　been　here；　I　wouldn't　have　drawn　that　story　in　the　first　place。　Birdland　gave　it　to　me。　What　can　I　say　if　Birdland　wants　it　back？〃
　　〃Try　bullshit。〃
　　Zach　slid　across　the　mattress　and　laid　his　hands　on　either　side　of　Trevor's　head；　his　fingertips　pressing　gently　against　the　temples。　〃This　is　your　Birdland。　And　these。〃　He　dropped　his　hands　to　Trevor's；　took　away　the　mutilated　sketchbook；　wrapped　Trevor's　hands　in　his　own　and　squeezed。　〃If　you　came　back　here　to　find　something；　at　least　admit　what　it　is。　Don't　get　to　thinking　you　need　this　place　for　your　art；　because　you　don't。　That　would　be　suicide。〃
　　〃Maybe　I　want　to　mit　suicide。〃
　　〃Why？〃
　　Trevor　pulled　his　hands　away。　〃Why　don't　you　just　drop　it？〃
　　〃Because　your　father　did？　Is　that　why　you　think　it's　so　fucking　romantic？　'Cause　if　you　do…〃
　　〃Why　don't　you　shut　the　fuck　up　and　get　your　stuff…〃
　　〃…maybe　you　ought　to　think　about　this：　HE　JUST　LOST　HIS　GODDAMN　SENSE　OF　HUMOR！〃
　　Zach　reached　for　Trevor's　shoulder；　maybe　only　wanting　to　grab　it　and　shake　it　to　belabor　his　point。　Trevor　didn't　want　to　be　grabbed。　He　brought　his　right　arm　up　to　shield　himself；　and　Zach　made　the　mistake　of　trying　to　pull　it　down。　Trevor　saw　his　left　hand　curl　into　a　fist；　watched　it　draw　back　and　piston　forward　into　Zach's　still…talking　mouth。　He　felt　the　skin　split　warmly　against　his　knuckles；　felt　spit　and　blood　smear　across　his　hand。　It　hurt　where　it　had　connected　with　the　hardness　of　teeth　and　gums。　But　it　wasn't　his　drawing　hand。
　　Zach's　head　hit　the　wall　hard　and　he　slid　to　the　mattress；　dazed。　Above　his　bloody　mouth；　his　eyes　were　a　more　vivid　green　than　ever；　wide；　stunned；　scared。　Those　eyes　begged　mercy。　It　was　a　wonderful　emotion　to　see　in　someone's　eyes。　You　could　grant　it　if　you　wanted。　But　you　also　had　the　power　to　refuse　it。
　　Trevor　pulled　his　fist　back　to　do　it　again。　His　other　hand　curled　around　Zach's　wrist；　felt　the　small　bones　grind　deliciously　beneath　his　fingers。　He　watched　Zach's　eyes。　This　was　what　they　had　looked　like　before　they　died。　This　was　how　it　had　been　on　the　other　side　of　the　hammer。
　　He's　right；　you　know。
　　Trevor　stopped。
　　If　Bobby　couldn't　stand　to　live　without　his　art；　okay。　Suicide　is　always　an　option。　But　he　didn't　have　to　kill　them。　You　didn't　have　to　spend　the　rest　of　your　life　alone。　Momma　would　have　taken　care　of　you　and　Didi。　Is　saying　he　lost　his　sense　of　humor　so　far　wrong？
　　He'd　had　such　thoughts　before；　usually　late　at　night　in　a　cheap　bed　in　an　unfamiliar　city。　Now　they　came　again　unbidden　and　made　him　realize　what　he　had　been　about　to　do。　He　had　been　ready　not　just　to　hit　Zach；　but　to　hit　him　again　and　again；　as　many　times　as　it　took　。。。　to　shut　him　up？　To　kill　him？　Trevor　didn't　know。
　　He　shoved　himself　away　from　Zach；　rolled　off　the　mattress　and　lay　on　the　floor　in　the　dust　and　the　ruins　of　his　story。　Half　of　him　hoped　Zach　would　e　over　here　and　beat　the　shit　out　of　him　now。　Trevor　would　lie　still　and　let　him　do　it。
　　But　half　of　him　hoped　Zach　would　stay　away。　Because　the　softness　of　Zach's　lips　spreading　and　splitting　open　against　his　hand　had　felt　so　damn　good　。　。　。
　　
　　Zach　pressed　the　heels　of　his　hands　into　his　eye　sockets　and　willed　himself　to　disappear　into　the　mattress。　He　was　sure　Trevor's　fist　was　going　to　smash　into　his　face　at　any　moment；　and　he　only　hoped　that　blow　would　knock　him　out　before　the　next　one　came。　He　knew　he　should　defend　himself。　He　couldn't　land　a　punch；　but　he　could　kick。
　　But　fighting　back　was　the　one　thing　he　could　not　do。　He　had　a　stoic　dread　of　physical　pain　born　of　hard　experience：　you　took　what　you　couldn't　avoid；　but　you　didn't　ask　for　more。　Zach　had　learned　long　ago　that　if　you　fought　back；　they　only　hurt　you　worse。
　　When　the　blow　didn't　e；　he　risked　a　look；　though　he　had　a　particular　horror　of　being　punched　in　the　eye　so　hard　that　it　just　squirted　out　of　its　socket。　But　Trevor　didn't　hit　him　again。　Trevor　was　halfway　across　the　room；　lying　on　the　floor　with　his　arms　wrapped　around　his　head。
　　Zach　swallowed　a　mouthful　of　blood；　felt　hot　helpless　tears　spilling　over　the　rims　of　his　eyelids；　stinging　his　wounded　lips。　Blood　dripped　off　his　chin；　made　deep　red　blossoms　on　the　bare　mattress；　ran　down　his　chest　and　traced　the　pale　arc　of　his　ribs　in　vivid　scarlet。　Zach　felt　it　pooling　in　his　navel；　trickling　into　his　crotch。　He　put　his　fingertips　to　his　mouth　and　they　came　away　slicked　nearly　purple。　He　looked　again　at　Trevor；　still　curled　miserably　on　the　floor。
　　Why　bother？　I　was　right　all　along：　the　second　you　make　yourself　vulnerable　to　someone；　they　start　drawing　blood。
　　Yeah；　but　if　a　real　vampire　came　along；　you'd　bare　your　neck　in　a　second。
　　Zach　almost　laughed　through　his　tears。　It　was　true；　he　was　always　ready　to　take　the　flashy　risks；　always　ready　for　the　rush　of　impending　doom　as　long　as　he　could　thwart　it　at　the　last　second。　But　the　slower…acting　and　ultimately　more　dangerous　risk　of　involving　his　life　with　someone's；　of　laying　his　soul　open　to　someone；　that　was　just　too　much。
　　He　felt　a　surge　of　self…loathing。　His　whole　life　had　been　lived　by　the　Siamese…twin　philosophies　of　Do　what　thou　wilt　and　Fuck　you。　Jack；　I've　got　mine。　Beyond　all　his　digital　daring　he　was　a　coward；　unable　to　fight　or　love。　No　wonder　he　made　such　a　good　punching　bag。
　　Trevor　might　be　crazy；　probably　was　crazy；　but　at　least　he　was　looking　for　th