Venus As A Boy

He paid no mind to the stars above, he was thinking of Romans, of fall nymphs, the blurred beauty of Florentine paintings when suddenly a flash of brilliant green light appeared. The light now accompanied by a violent flickering like wind, like fire, soared past him and dove into the neighboring forest. It touched past the trees and for a moment everything stopped, then shot a beam into the sky illuminating everything for only a moment before transforming into a golden dome that at once quieted into a glimmer down among the trees.

…

Curious, the boy had come closer to the forest. Passed branch, bush, and sleepy greens until he finally arrived at a clearing, where in the middle lay the same ball of light, emerald as ocean water, glittering like the forest floor. Inside he could just make out the subtle outline of a figure only, it seemed to be pulled in every direction forming what looked like horns, the feathered arch of a wing, the tip of a serpent's tongue, the glint of a spiders eye, all accompanied by a gentle humming as if the light were alive.

He leaned out further to see the figure clearer, bracing himself on a tree, but a breath of fate caused him to stumble, snapping a branch, and the beast from within turned its many scarlet gold and glinting eyes towards him.

In an instant the light grew brighter, the hum darkening as they both reached a crescendo that forced him to close both eyes and ears. His eyes opened to find a fair skinned boy gazing back at him, and attempted to stand on his newborn legs but fell on splintered ground. Mystified and full of adrenaline the boy rushed forward, offering his arms to hold him steady, managing to work up the courage to meet his eyes.

At once the full force of the blond’s beauty stole all of the breath in his lungs as something foreign and beautiful bloomed in his chest.

The figure stared back with empty eyes that reflected the stars, with the vague hint of curiosity etched on his face, reached out a hand to meet him.

…

After many painstaking hours he finally managed to bring the boy home and once the initial shock of their descent and beauty left his eyes he saw that they were about the same age, though much different in build, and that the other was fairly shorter than he was. He sat him on the bed.

“This is my room,” he said quietly, “I live alone so you don’t have to worry about anyone seeing you.”

He chanced a glance behind him and saw that the other had taken to staring at him. He blushed, “My name is Akira.” he said, eyes trained on his pinked shoulder that soon traced his figure and saw that his knee was bleeding.

He attended to his knee when he heard, “Akira.”

He shot right up, the blond's voice shocking him with how sweet and clear it sounded. The boy raised a finger to put to the other’s chest, “Akira.”

“Yes, yes that’s my name!” he enveloped the boy's hand in both of his.

“What’s your name?”

Confusion spread across his features, “my...name?”

Akira nodded, “do you not have one?”

The other shook his head, curls swaying in the motion. Akira kneeled down to be level with him, “May I give you one?” He nodded. Akira took a moment to think, “Akihiko? It’s a little generic but it means shining prince.” he shot him a shy smile that was met with the shake of the head.

He thought again, “maybe Aniki, or Hanako? How about Alexander?” Another shake of the head as he thought a little more, taking in the boy's features.

He possessed blond curls that rivaled Achilles, round blue eyes with a glimmer of seafoam green gracing the center with dainty lashes that fanned out on his gently russet cheek. He carried a grace that one heard told of the nymphs, cut with the precise light handed touch that the Romans adored with the familiar blurred beauty as that of a painting he could not yet place.

He looked to all the world like the shining prince of princes.

“Dorian?”

At this, the boy showed the hint of a smile.

“Do you like that name?”

His smile shone more to which Akira returned, eyes warm. “Hello Dorian, it’s very nice to meet you.”

Dorian looked back up at him,

“Hello.”

…

Days turned to weeks as Akira did his best to teach him anything and everything about the world. He showed him the sound of the forest, the scent of the earth, the mystery of the heavens from which he came. He would read him stories of Greek heroes, of nymphic girl children, of a different prince that fell from the sky.

He read him the story of the boy whose fateful youth he was named after.

It became clear to him that there wasn’t much hope to understand Dorian’s arrival as he himself didn’t know, but there were other things he did know.

He knew he had a deep aversion to blood, that he preferred fresh greens and sweet fruits, the salt of the ocean, the sound of Akiras name.

…

One day they were walking aimlessly when they happened upon a festival celebrating fall. Curious, Dorian tugged on Akira's hand and begged for them to go. He agreed, senses focused on the way Dorian's hand felt in his.

They tread carefully, avoiding puddles and frost patches but in vain, as Akira fell, biting his lip, cutting his hand on stray glass.

His mouth tasted of iron.

Without hesitation the prince took Akira’s hand in his own and kissed away the blood.

He choked on his breath.

“You don’t have to do that, my hands are dirty-“

Dorian's eyes were innocent in their confusion, “but you said that it helps make it better, remember?”

He gave another kiss, lips coming away touched with blood that he licked off before Akira could get to it. Something flashed in his eyes as a quiet gasp escaped him. He turned away, returning Akira’s hand.

They continued on until they found a show of lights that danced to the sway of the music. Dorian stood there enchanted by it all as Akira only gazed upon him. A burst of laughter drew their gaze to the source as they watched a man twirl around his darling then treated her to a passionate kiss.

Dorian tilted his head to the side, “why is he eating her?”

Laughter fell from Akiras mouth. “He’s not eating her, he’s kissing her.”

Dorian furrowed his brow, “I thought they only did that in movies.”

More laughter, “No, they do that in real life too.”

“Why?” He was staring at him now. Akira felt a slight heat creep up his neck.

“People do that to show that they love each other.”

“Love?” He turned his sea blue gaze to his bruised lips and found it hard to breathe.

“Yes, love.”

Dorian hummed, his eyes flitting down as he took a step closer to him.

“Then...can I kiss you?”

Akira’s heart stopped and was about to say something, say anything when he saw Dorian's face change. His eyes were closed with his face tilted towards him, even going so far as to go on slight tiptoe to reach him.

With shaking hands and shaking heart Akira held Dorian's delicate face as he lowered his lips to meet the other’s.

It was chaste, and so sweet that Akira ached with it. They pulled away, Dorian's face tinted pink. He licked his lips touched with Akiras blood and saw something stir in him but didn’t know if it was pleasure or rejection.

“Was that-?“

“More.”

His eyes flashed with red but Akira pushed it aside, trick of the light, he thought. Dorian’s face shone in secret pleasure as he leaned in again.

He could never deny him.

…

Dorian was strange after that. He would fidget, eyes trained on anything that moved, and often stared at Akira, his wrists, his lips, his slender throat. Then he grew restless, irritable, and begged Akira for red meat, but that did nothing to cure Dorian's mounting discomfort.

He would whine, scratching relentlessly at his skin. A red thread had appeared on his body. It didn’t hurt when touched, nor burned, and didn’t respond to any topical treatment.

Akira could do nothing but watch as Dorian suffered.

It all came to a head when Akira came to cheer him up when Dorian snapped and bit him so hard he drew blood, eyes stained red.

He didn’t mean to yell at him but Dorian was scaring him, as he merely stared back just as scared as he was. It was the first time he had made him cry.

Akira awoke the next day to find the house vacant, his prince gone.

…

He searched day and night, scoured as much of the forest as he could, visited every place that they had ever explored together but to no avail. He couldn’t tell any authority for fear that they would ask too many questions and find Dorian to keep for themselves, and all hope of ever seeing him again would be soiled, torn, dead.

…

Nights grew shorter as the sun reappeared and the earth gave way to spring.

Among the sweet breeze and pollen dust there flew whispers of missing kids and dead animals as the fear of a beast that lurked in the dark began to form.

Weeks passed as the death count grew and sightings of a winged beast with serpents tongue and spider eyes were televised.

They said that bullets would not work, that it could not be stopped, that it would kill them all when given the chance.

A sinking sense of dread began to claw at the back of Akiras mind.

…

Finally, as the day was winding down came the sound of bones breaking, clicks and whistles that only the symphony of the forest could conduct, a scream that rivaled the wicked ocean.

The streets became painted in scarlet as families fled.

Akira's hands were steady as he locked his front door, breath calm in his uncaring lungs. The touch of a gentle breeze lifted his gaze and without warning a blue sea wave swelled under his heart as there stood his little prince peering at him with glass eyes.

They stared as if meeting all over again only this time Dorian broke the silence,

“Akira.”

They reached for each other. A step forward, a step back, and Akira fell to the floor, Dorian pinning him there. He saw that the red thread that snaked his porcelain body was darker now, and that his delicate fingers were painted a vivid rust color, but it was his eyes that bore the most change. Still a piercing blue only now there swam swirls of red.

Like blood in the water.

He smelled of crushed lavenders, the sharp sting of iron.

“Akira.”

They looked at each other only, Dorian had not the look of love but that of thirst.

“Akira.”

He looked as if he wanted to devour him.

His hand raised to caress Dorian’s flushed cheek, wiping away the blood that graced his face,

“Akira.”

His voice was still light and sweet.

“Akira,” he said as the ends of his lips widened, the sides of his face tearing apart to reveal shining, painted teeth.

“Akira,” he said again, only it came as clicks and whistles, as a sigh, as stars dying.

“Akira.”

Dorian's teeth neared the soft bulb of his throat as he realized with mangled joy that he looked like the painted Venus.

“Akira.”

The blue in Dorian's eyes died and gave way to crimson as Akira smiled.

There was his Venus.

Venus as a boy.