My Finest Crush

Hedwig in self imposed exiled ------

It had been Hedwig's decision to seek refuge out in the country – far from the throngs of fans – all eager for a piece – from the reporters – and the gossip – life in all it's unpleasantness – no it was perhaps for the best – to go away and become some recluse- let them speculate – let them dream – who was Hedwig – Why when she suddenly shot her way to fame – did she throw it all away and go into hiding –

The answer was simple – there was nothing left to do –

Become a rock star – check

Find other half – check

Achieve international fame – check

Hedwig was tired and she was bored and if truth be told she did not want to be Hedwig anymore – she / he wanted to be Hansel again – in the stillness of this quiet old house – there were no wigs and no glitter and no heartache.

Hansel sat by himself and wrote songs ----

My finest crush – my beautiful boy

Look what you made me do

All mascara wear

The art of the tear

My finest crush – are we yet gone?

Oh yes, the words and the music just came out and in every song was the sketch of that boys face.

Fuckin' Tommy Gnosis – why could he not be tossed aside and forgotten why did his face haunt every dream; every line put down of paper.

Hansel sat in the corner of a particularly large room. A bottle of strong red wine by his feet and the ever-present notebook filled with scrawls of a doomed love affair. It was Hansel's heart bared open – bleeding and sore.

The room had only a blanket and a huge chandelier. It was cold in there and yet the cold did not matter. The gooseflesh was fine – his body and his soul and the ache they both felt were another matter entirely.

The sound of footsteps caused him to look up and standing there was his only servant. A discreet man by the name of Paul dressed in jeans and a heavy sweater. His boyish face a mask of complete competence and self-assurance. He was Hansel's lover when such a need arose and it meant little to either. Sex had become nothing more then another task like eating and sleeping. It was just there.

"I think you should come see something." Paul said in a slightly accented voice. His dark hair and eyes suggest Spain or something similar and yet his accent was British.

Hansel sipped at the wine and closed the notebook and leaned into the wall as if he was drained of all strength.

" See what – I am perfectly marvelous right in this corner."

" No… this is important."

"So is this?" Hansel said closing his eyes and feeling the sadness settle even deeper into already weary bones.

"It's about Tommy." He said. Hansel sat up and opened his eyes.

"What about Tommy?" He demanded hating how desperate he sounded and then he saw the look in Paul's eyes there was fear there and it was then that Hansel knew what this was about. His heart broke and he leaned forward and rested his forehead upon his knees.

"I am sorry." Paul said.

"Just leave…" came the low moan of Hansel's agony.

"It's all over the news." Paul said and then he turned and left, the sound of his footsteps echoing down the long corridor.

Hansel looked up at the darkening room – the shadows playing along the walls. His heart felt alive and bleeding inside him and he wanted to reach out across time and space and pull Tommy back to him. He wanted to eat him and devour him and have him live on inside him. He wanted them to be whole.

My finest crush – my beautiful boy

Look what you made me do…

He hummed along the words – feeling them form on lips that felt alien to him.

He slammed his head against the wall – the plaster giving away and out of his throat came a scream – one of raw pain – it surged forth and echoed across the empty house and hung there as if it was suddenly alive and waiting and then he was sobbing.

It was only then that came the realization – the truth – Tommy was dead.



All that was left was memory and the awesome pain that came with it.