Vain self-dissatisfaction never was inherent in Emmett. There is a division of labor: Ted gets vain self-dissatisfaction, and Emmett gets the skill to turn ugly into fabulous. Emmett dances and applies sparkling eyeliner; Ted wanders in the labyrinths of self-reflection.

The world has long been moving towards craziness, and by the looks of it, the destination has been reached.

Ted kinda got what he wanted: Emmett, wearing one of his...God forgive me... party attires, was standing in front of a mirror and trying to do his hair. But anger and bitterness were making his cute snubby face more and more distorted every minute. Finally, Emmett cursed and threw a can of hairwax to the corner of the room.

"Em, stop it! You have such a cute… You look gorgeous!" Ted said , trying to make his voice sound as naturally as possible.

"It feels like, I will have to change my image pivotally," Emmett replied. "Shall I buy camo pants?”

"Pink ones?"

Emmett pulled a face, stepped away from the mirror, walloped on the sofa in his full height and croaked weakly:

"Teddy, go without me. I am feeling a bit under the weather."

"Em. Please," Ted sat down next to Emmett and took his hand. Emmett withdrew it and turned his back on Ted.

"Now you are thinking that you are the issue. But it is Drew Boyd. You are railing at yourself, looking for the cause. But it is Drew Boyd. For how many days have you been stuck indoors because of him? High time for you to get out, have fun, have a good time.”

Ted wanted to add "and get back to work", but decided to keep the remark to himself As for himself, he had been hanging around the office day and night, all but playing a pipe organ at the basement. An interesting idea, as a matter of fact! He had to persuade Brian to acquire a pipe organ.

Emmett turned back and hugged Ted from his back.

"It's you for whom it's high time to stop being stuck indoors with me, go out, have fun and a good time. I am really not in a good mood for it. I thought I was, but I realize now, for now I’m still not."

Ted gently patted his friend's hand. What was he to do now? If he persuaded Emmett and dragged him to Babylon, Emmett may get merry, start dancing wildly, get the glut of attention he is entitled to. But also he may gloomily get engrossed into the observation of all those... shit, let us be honest, young guys wrinkle-free, with their posh chevelures and muscles… That's it, enough of these thoughts, or you will either scamper to Babylon, jumping out of your pants, or accidentally slash your veins. Generally, Emmett might get even more upset. To drag him somewhere when he is not in the right mood is a failure plan, whatsoever. On the other hand, Emmett needs some impact, some right words.

"Let’s fuck," Ted thought sarcastically in his pursuit of the right words, and this phrase multiplied as a computer virus and filled his head to the brim. It dreadfully hampered his efforts to build the next remark.

As Ted was thinking intensely, a nervous monologue was pouring out of his mouth. Like, do you remember, old friend, you told me you were blinded by my glowing beauty? So am I… Then it occurred to Ted that he was about to start saying something impolite.

Firstly, according to the tacit bargain that had come into force again after Blake's departure, Ted was deemed the interested party with no right to say anything perceivable as utterance of romantic intentions. Secondly, the epithet "glowing" certainly has to be omitted when you are referring to someone's balding head.

Shit, why are both Ted and Emmett so prone to fixed ideas? It would not hurt to have a change of mind here as well. Ted gets fixed ideas, Emmett gets, say, an urge to do ikebana. Fear made Ted jabber even faster: how gorgeous Emmett is, how all, all guys without any exceptions want him, and how he (my God!) can get (Lord, stop it!) Drew Boyd back (why am I saying this?) anytime.

Emmett gave a grunt, but it was unclear what he wanted to express. "The rest is silence." High time to ditch the idea of going to the club and put another film into the DVD player.

***

Next afternoon an incredible glow illuminated Liberty diner. The light was too bright to read the menu. It was hurting the eyes of the visitors. The meridian sun was flooding the eatery in thousands of waves reflected, around and above, from Ted's clean-shaven head. Certainly, the aforesaid was just artistic exaggeration. The head was blue and moderately lumpy. A sight rather more ironic, than captivating.

"Are you completely out of your gourd?" Debbie asked.

"Bring me, please, a vegetable salad and a glass of water," Ted said in a resolute voice, after a little shiver. Inside him, disgust was fighting comprehension of his selfless loyalty to friendship: Emmett buzzed his head a couple of days ago. And he was the only person able to decide the outcome of the fight. Drumroll please…

"Teddy, you are skull fucked!" Emmett said from the doors of the diner, having regained self-control not without difficulty. The disgust giggled and rubbed its hands.

"Some years ago I heard from Queer Guy's segment that in our community it is fashionable to demonstrate the exquisite contour of your skull, and those words sank into my heart," replied Ted. "You set up trends, and we, pathetic and poor in aesthetic sense, can only submit to them."

"Certainly, this is very sweet…" Emmett started to say, but Ted interrupted him.

"I promise you, everyone will appreciate my chic and incredible brutal sexuality. Now, see for yourself!" Ted stood up and made a laid-back approach to a table, where a young gentleman was sitting. All gentlemanly perfections of his torso were emphasized by a tight T-shirt, and any doubt in all other perfections was assuaged by jeans of unequivocal cut. Ted bended over the ear of that gay deity and whispered something. The deity smiled, showing forty impeccable teeth, and wrote a phone number on a napkin. Ted took his trophy and, with an eyebrow swashbuckingly lifted, returned to his friend.

"What did you tell him?" Emmett asked.

"Word of honor; the magic does not reside in words!" Ted replied and put the "Cunning Seducer #3" expression on his face.

“He promised the guy a date with an underwear model!!” Debbie giggled gleefully. Then she took a closer look at Emmett and opened her mouth for a moment.

Ted's eye gave a twitch, but he did not lower his brow.

"Oh, sorry, sweetie," Debbie said . "Actually, I heard nothing, of course. That's where I was standing, and you… Oh, one vegetable salad, coming right up!"

Emmett stroke Ted's head.

"Yes, it really is terribly pleasant to touch."

"Hear, hear, told you!" and Ted touched Emmett's shaven nape.

Brian entered the diner and saw the two scratching each other's bald heads. His eyes became round, and he lifted his eyebrows so high that they went to the top of his head. Then he turned around and left.

The young gentleman clad in the unequivocal jeans threw several bucks on his table and ran after Brian.

***

For a long time, there had been no one in the flat but the ghosts of the past. Not even a cat. The one that Ted had given away before the Liberty ride, he had not brought back: it had cottoned to the new owners. Namely, even the cat preferred to leave him. He could have despised her wishes, but then she would have crept under the couch and hissed at his attempts to get her out of there.

Ted turned on some music, sat on the couch and closed his eyes. Two years ago, Blake would have entered the room, sat next to Ted and tenderly put his head on Ted's shoulder. Ted imagined Blake, his gentle touch, his voice, scent of his hair. He waited until this became intolerable. Producing a tissue to blow his nose, he observed with sardonic smile how bloodily similar all that was to masturbation. And, by the way, he had hard-on. It was simply ridiculous. Blake's ghost smiled bitterly, got off the couch and, after one last look over his shoulder, shut the door after him.

Ted almost decided to go to work. By and large, he just could have moved his bed there: his office was a far jollier and more interesting destination, and a better place to sleep at night. And if only there was a pipe organ at the basement!

Ruminating on this, Ted took a shower, put on fresh clothes, picked up papers he needed and checked on his mobile. There was a text message from Emmett; the friend was calling Ted to Babylon.

Good Lord, what a mercy! Now it is for sure: he had recovered. Right now he was dancing, like a fiery angel clad in pink and orange, turning his head beautifully, and smiling, and his ass… Surprisingly, Emmett did not like his perfect, gorgeous, admirable ass. He disliked it so badly that he had wanted to have a plastic surgery…. Well, perhaps it was better not to think about his ass.

Maybe he was, conversely, standing at the counter, all sad and confused, and was sassing off crowds of guys who are assailing him all grieved, sorrowful, with tears in his eyes. Poor guy is suffering. He is disappointed and devastated.

And still Ted was thinking about his ass.

It would have been excellent to turn some thoughts off. Thoughts about Emmett's ass - turn off. Thoughts about Blake - turn off.

They say, that if you do not think about something, neuronal chains break, and your brain never returns to them. As a matter of fact, Ted did not want not to think about Blake and did not want not to think about Emmett's ass. The truth was, he painfully yearned not to recall other things, but he could not help it. Ted's thought turned into a small tornado rotating around the point because of which he was the one not supposed to think about Emmett's ass, and it became intolerable again. Horrible character, brimmed with endless suffering.

Enough of that. All the more so, here is Babylon: Gate of the God.

The worst thing for Ted to see was Drew Boyd. Embracing Emmett's waist by his massive hideous sexy claws. And Emmett is waltzing, with his arms up high, Emmett is laughing joyfully, and his eyeliner is blue. Then Boyd kisses him with his thin, hideous sexy mouth. Gets under his shirt. Unzips his orange pants and gets under them as well. First he grabs the ass we decided not to think about, then so roughly tears clothes from Emmett, and… No, nothing like that was seen by Ted in Babylon. He saw a very angry Emmett in camo pants. The friend was as drunk as a sow (again) and holding on the wall in order not to hold on the floor.

As a matter of fact, a look at that would force you to want Drew Boyd to appear here for real.

***

No doubt, after Ted's escapade Emmett had had to go through, infrequent occasions of Cosmo superfluity were just a child's play. Still, it was undesirable to spend every night carrying the insensible friend up and down the stairs. Moreover, Ted absolutely did not want to know Debbie's opinion on this.

Trying to make as little noise as he could, Ted dragged Emmett to the latter's bedroom. Asked, whether any coffee was wanted rather, out of courtesy. Em even gave some answer, but it was unclear, whether it was affirmative. With prowess of a case-hardened man, Ted removed his pal's shoes and those hideous pants (would it not be appropriate to burn them as an abominable symbol of entropy?). He pulled Emmett's blanket from under him and covered him. And, reflecting, whether to go home or to work, Ted started for the door.

"Teddy," there was a croak from the bed, "Don't go".

This is how horribly melodramatic stories get started. A creepy fleshcrawler kisses the Sleeping Beauty, using her helplessness. The Beauty flies into the passion and leaves bloody scratches on the fleshcrawler's back (or rips hair from his ass, which is more realistic, but not melodramatic enough but still, a lousy joke about ass hair, at last). The fleshcrawler turns into a charming, albeit a little unkempt, prince and is determined to stay with the Beauty, until this idiotic world crumbles. And they lived happily ever after. Till morning. In the morning the Sleeping Beauty wakes up and sees a cunning and hideous Beast beside her, and then…

"Yes, Em. I will not go."

"Hug me."

Ted lay down atop the blanket, hugged Emmett, cuddled him and began to wait for him to fall asleep. To slope off to work? After all, nothing really wrong is going on here, so he can stay till morning. Cuddle till morning. Ted himself would not sleep in order to enjoy that cuddling. Can he not kiss Emmett's nape? Well, just peck it. The unspoken arrangement that had been interrupted for two years because of Blake: yes, Ted loves Emmett. Not just loves, but, you know truly loves. Emmett knows, Ted knows, but everybody keeps silent. Because only Em, as the injured party, can say or do something. If Ted says something, a really unpleasant conversation will come up. So before kissing your friend's nape while you are lying with him in bed, you'd better comprehend the goings-on and do everything so as it would be just a friendly unobtrusive peck. Just in case, you'd better not do it at all.

"By the way, you are hard," Emmett told him, and turned around.

Fuck. Ted turned on his back and started to offer excuses, fumbling for right words with torturous, frantic speed. Like, the warmth, and the physical contact. It is not because of Emmett, but because of the bed and the reflexes, and, actually, he thought about one guy he had met in Babylon… As Ted was jabbering, Emmett silently put his head on Ted's shoulder and his hand on Ted's dick.

"Em, stop it, please."

Emmett would not stop. Worse yet, he kissed Ted on his ear. It absolutely was not like a friendly peck.

"Em, please, stop it, or I will go."

Ted caught Emmett's hand. An emotionally saturated situation again, and far worse that the previous one. What an abomination!

"And it seems to me, Ted, that you want it…"

"Yes, Em, of course I want it! And, I believe, you guess that I want it more than anything else in my life. This is why I ask you to stop it please!" Somewhere on the word "more" Ted's voice started to quiver, and (God! Give it a rest!) tears came to his eyes. Emmett withdrew his hand and reluctantly moved over. Ted wiped his face on his sleeve and sat up on the bed.

"Sorry, Teddy."

"I'd better go."

"You told me you'd stay if I stopped."

"I am not sure it is a good idea."

"Why?"

"I believe, tomorrow you will sober up, and the bluebirds that dress you in the mornings will sing you a song about it."

"Teddy, let’s do it!"

"No, Em. You are upset. You are drunk. And you absolutely do not need it."

Was the melodrama inevitable? Where he could have said "No, Rosencrantz"? Guilt shit demon stirred but hushed quickly: "Hug me" sounds completely innocent. He lay down and hugged Emmett. And as to hard-on, what do you have your dick for, if not for being hard? Lord, does he have to think about his hard-on now? As if his mother caught him masturbating. Although, mother would not have stuck her tongue into his ear. This thought made Ted screw up his face, but his dick, actually, became soft.

Emmett started to snore. A great moment to run away. Because many strange conversations are waiting in the morning. Even if not conversations, but, say, thoughts, it was still horrible. Ted imagined exchanging strange glances with Emmett. Emmett is squinting suspiciously and sullenly. Ted lifts an eyebrow, then another one. Emmett's chin is screwing up. Ted's lips become tight and thin as a thread. All told, the desire to spend the whole night cuddling disappeared. And Emmett is snoring as a wild boar - where on earth had he learned to do that! Must have taken masterclasses from Drew Boyd. Artistic snore, from the diaphragm itself, through all resonators - a majestic roar, a work of art. It would be great if it meant that his best friend will not even recall this night.

Ted climbed out of the bed and quietly shut the door after him.

***

The day was nervous in its course. Actually, it's been a long time since Ted constructed himself a branch of algorithms to deal with emotions of high intensity in case they threatened to make his beautiful quick brains burn like tinder. Firstly, you can get high. This way is the simplest and tested by many generations, but Ted had promised himself to never try it again. Secondly, you can work. Albeit the fact that you had already done everything in the preceding days of paroxysmal workaholism. You can recheck everything, of course, but Ted had already rechecked it five times.

The next point was the gym. Done. Emmett did not turn up there and hung up on Ted saying: "Sorry, baby, I am very busy." On the one hand, he hung up. On the other hand, his sounded upset, but not angry. The "I need to think a little" kind of voice, and not the "slump into a slit, you fucking faggot" kind. Yet another way to alleviate stress was to take a guy home and take his pants off (the sequence of activities is important in this case). A blonde guy at the next treadmill most conveniently sent Ted something like a non-verbal text, but Ted was so worn out that some embarrassment could happen. OK, the last way: to go home and fall asleep. There also was a space for embarrassment, but at least not harmful for his reputation.

The goddamned house. Nobody knows for sure, what is going on there when Ted is out, but as soon as he gets in, an endless nightmare begins. This is the bathroom where Blake went, having thrown his suit on the floor, when a small vial rolled out of his pocket. This is the counter that met Emmett's loins when he was forwarded by a loving hand. And there, opposite the window, his old friend was listening to some discourses he certainly remembers. Ted does not really, but his bitch of a memory has no trouble reproducing a quivering chin, conglutinated eyelashes and the main thing - the fact that afterwards Emmett had disappeared from this house and left a crowd of ghosts instead of himself. And, finally, this is the couch on which Ted and Blake had their placid conversation, talked like adults, you know, - politely and with smiles, holding each other's hands - and decided that both of them had grown out of that union. Blake with his mesmerizing voice really persuaded Ted then. Neurotic foundation of the relationship. Unclosed Gestalts. Necessity to move on. First you have to ask several question to which your opponent will answer "yes". The contact is established, and everything decided from now on is decided by us collectively.

Ted felt like throwing, say, this lamp against the wall, but instead he just adjusted its position slightly. Emmett's ghost tried to move it closer to the corner of the table, but who is listening to ghosts. Ted took a shower and went to bed. Recalled warm Emmett's hand caressing his cock. He should have gone with that blonde tonight, that could have worked out.

***

The next week dragged on just like that idiotic day. Emmett answered his calls by the same "Busy, sweetie, busy" and promised to call when free. Ted would have been pleased to load himself with work (about 190 hours per week would have been just enough), but business obeys to its own cycles, and, as ill luck would have it, there was nothing to do at the agency that week.

Ted wondered where he could be taught to play the pipe organ. To hang out with Brian in Babylon was a dubious pleasure - but better than nothing. Ted even hooked someone, but changed his mind and set the prey free - let it return to the Liberty Jungle.

He tried to read but was unable to concentrate on anything and dropped that undertaking.

He went to see Michael and Ben. Mikey himself had not seen Emmett for several days, but was able to narrate a plenty of extremely exciting stories about Hunter's academic progress.

"Aeons will not make me forget such kindness!" Ted was thinking with an extreme expression of benevolent attention on his face. "Before this,I had been unable to eat or to sleep - so hard I had been thinking of how old Hunter's college life was going on."

He badly wanted to talk to Melanie, but had to restrict himself to a short phone call and a promise to come to her place - as soon as he had time. Certainly, the most logical thing was to go to Debbie's, but…

Montserrat Figueras was singing "Amor! Amor!", when there was a knock at Ted's door at last.

Magenta shirt, blue pants, pink tie… By the looks of it, the pains of hair loss had been overcome.

Emmett was holding a package from Thai restaurant.

"Delivery."

"Thanks, Em, but I do not eat quick carbs." Certainly, his voice turned out angry. If you let me out of the lamp three blocks away from here, I will give you palaces and securities. If you do that four blocks from here, I will rip your head off.

"Teddy. We are in for a conversation," when this word is pronounced in italics, do not expect anything good. "According to the script, this should have been a bottle. But you do not drink, so let us at least eat these fucking dumplings."

The food was put on the table and unpacked. Resonant strenuous chewing was established.

"Teddy, please excuse me for getting out of touch."

"Well, you did not get out of touch. You were answering my calls, for what I am certainly…"

"Wait. I really had to think. And I thank you for giving me the opportunity to do it."

"Oh, when it comes to that, I am second to none. Especially when I have no other choice."

"I had been touched beyond measure by what you had said then. And by the fact that you had left."

"You had been touched by the fact that I had left?"

"Well, I really was upset and drunk. And you acted like…"

"Like… how did Brian put it? An asexual eunuch?"

"Like a friend."

Ted heaved a sigh.

"And, certainly, Teddy, I was really moved by this friendly hairstyle of yours. But never do that again. It looks horrible indeed."

"And here I was supposing I had reached a non plus ultra of my gorgeousness. After all, folks at work did allude to something, and I was failing to understand…"

"On the bright side, you can stop dying your hair. You will look good with grey hair."

"Do you think so?"

Ted put the last spring roll into his mouth and fixed his gaze on a pile of emptied boxes. They need to be cleared from here.

"You told me you wanted it more than anything else in your life."

"Grey hair? It is unlikely."

"Can you stop clowning?"

"Look, Em. It is a marvel that you kept all that in mind, and I regret coughing it up. I told you everything into my letter few years ago. That I would not have been surprised if you had not forgiven me, because I certainly will never forgive myself. That I am sorry, because I destroyed everything. That…"

"I remember."

"So, what do you want to tell me?"

"You know, Ted, it is incredibly valuable for me when someone cares for my feelings so much. By the way, despite… All in all, you do and always did it much more often than anyone else."

"You are taking much more care of me, Em…"

"And also I adore men with such hairstyle."

"You just said that it looks horrible," Ted finally started to sweep the Thai food boxes into a plastic bag.

"It is pleasant to touch!"

"Huh?" Ted left the boxes alone and sat down.

Emmett put his hand on Ted's nape and said, "Look, it's been such a long time…"

"Yes, and..."

And then Emmett kissed him. The world exploded and recomposed itself. Stars burst in the sky with loud crackling, rain washed them away, and some totally different ones appeared. Seeds were opening with silent whisper, new grass was growing out of them, small chartreuse spirals were uncoiling and shooting out flower buds. Colors acquired absolutely unexpected shades. Music in the speakers stopped for a second and disintegrated into separate chords that merged again into some totally different harmony. Ted could have sarcastically recalled being high and experience another rush of guilt, but honestly, not a single thought came to his head then.

He pushed his small table away from the couch, kneeled in front of Emmett and unzipped his pants. Here we'd rather let our screen fade out and return after a while.

***

So, here is the camera report. Emmett is on the couch, his chest and elbows on its back-rest. Ted is standing behind, his chin held high, and trying to catch his breath. Finally, he is falling, chest first, on his friend's back, kisses his nape, neck, ears - until starting to sob brokenly.

"Hey, Teddy, what is it?" Emmett got out of the hug, turned his face to Ted and kissed him, smearing his tears. Ted snivels and stifles. "Damned tearful faggot," he thinks to himself.

"Teddy, stop it, or I also will cry," Emmett whispers.

"'The Naked', a fountain! A 'trivial kingly chic' style performance, only today, only for you," Ted laughs through tears.

You can cry me a river, cry me a river. I cried a river over you.

Emmett nestled more comfortably on the couch, Ted leaned his back against Emmett's chest.

"Em, I never thought you could yell like that! Seems like, after such powerful gospels I will have to quit the condo."

"Teddy, since when do you rim? You have always told it leads to intestinal infection."

"From this day I declare the magic world of rimming open to myself. Fuck intestinal infection."

"Every time I think I know you, you disclose new talents. Give me a tissue, I need to at least blow my nose."

"Me too," said Ted and added in a sing-song voice, "They were cuddling, all drenched in sweat, tears, snot and the juice of their love."

"You are such a romantic!"

Then they showered. And after the shower Emmett started to put on his clothes.

Ted wanted to ask his friend not to go, but kept silent. He wanted to ask, what next, but kept silent all the more. There was no use in asking: the bedroom was occupied. Two ghosts were having sex on it. Kind of sex. One said angrily: "At least jerk me off!" The other sighed and squeezed some lube on his hand. Certainly, Em also saw those two through the door closed to a crack. And certainly, he does not want to stay at all. Everything is clear. Ted was biting the inner side of his cheek, Emmett was looking for his tie. At last Em looked at Ted, came back to the couch and hugged his friend.

"Teddy, sweetie, all is well."

"Will I see you again?"

"Lord, what kind of question is that, of course you will!"

"Sure?"

"Sure, of course! Do you remember, I promised you not to vanish anywhere?"

"I also promised a lot to you."

Is it not amazing, how much liquid can be generated by an organism. Some more tears, and he could die of dehydration.

"Teddy, please stop. We will meet tomorrow, as usual. Lunch, supper?"

Ted paused to think for a second.

"I have plans for lunch. I will pick you up in the evening."

"Ha! Plans! Well, see you tomorrow, sweetie!"

Emmett kissed his friend on his forehead and left with a quiet click of the door. Ghosts at various corners of the room stopped cursing, sobbing and arguing - and stared perplexedly at their master.

Ted ditched the remnants of Thai dinner at last, wiped his table and turned his laptop on. Tomorrow he will meet Jennifer, but he may as well look it up in the Internet. Obligatory: an inner yard with some pastoral roses.

Brian's ghost appeared in the dining room, in tongues of fire, and roared with demonic laughter.

Ted told him to fuck off.