Trevel’s Epilogue
One year later…
“Birdcage”
By Trevel Fenwick
It’s a fascinating sense of mortality…
Flying through the sky.
Amidst the clouds, up high. Defying gravity.
A bird, freed from their cage. Wings spread, a stretch of reprieve.
They were never clipped, apart from what he had you believe.
Autonomy is yours now, beautiful. Metal bars no more,
Chains asunder on the floor.
You choose, little bird, how far you will soar.
And should you wish to be confined again,
It will be for passions of love, nary pain.
For the sovereignty you claimed.
His acquiescence was for you and you alone.
A once Tartarean heart, now but a man of flesh and bone.
So remember, little bird, when you descend from the firmament’s height,
Your reign are feathers of a crown, resting atop quelled Ivory white.
“H ello? Earth to Trevel.” Byron’s voice cuts into my playlist, and I peer to the right.
He’s literally plucked one of my earbuds out of my ear.
Grinning, I put the pencil down for the first time in over an hour. “I’m sorry, baby. I was in the zone.”
“I can see that.” He smirks.
“What’s up?”
“The lady was asking if you wanted anything to drink, but I couldn’t get ahold of you.” He chuckles. “So she left.”
I frown. Bollocks. I kinda wanted a Coke…
“I got you a Coke.” He places the can on my tray table. “If you want ice, though, you’re shit outta luck.”
I snicker, grasping his face to kiss it all over while he fights me off.
“Alright, back off,” he huffs. “We have another two hours until we get there, and I’m trying not to focus on how hard you’re making me.”
“Am I, sexy man?” I croon in his ear, licking the lobe until he shudders.
“Yea…” he breathes out.
“But I’m not doing anything.”
“Oh, yes you are. Just sitting there quietly…”
He grins, and I chuckle.
“ Ignoring me. God, it’s hot.”
More laughter bubbles from within my chest while I touch his throat and his chest. The poem I’ve been working on for the better part of this trip was certainly keeping me occupied.
But now that I’ve stopped, it’s right back to being insatiable for my delicious, growly boyfriend and his delicious hard body.
Byron turns fast, cutting off my tongue-assault of his ear, grabbing my face in that possessive, dominant way that certainly betrays how needy he is when I have his ankles in the air.
“Behave, violet eyes,” he growls, fully serious. My balls are thrumming. But then his lips twitch, and he licks mine. “I promise, as soon as we land, I’ll be so deep in your body, you’ll be giving me a reverse blowjob.”
I stifle a whimper, smirking over his mouth. “Because your dick will be in my throat the other way?”
“Uh-huh,” he beams.
I snort, and he laughs back. It’s bloody fantastic. I swear, I’ve never felt like this. We have so much fun together, and every day is brand new.
Being with Byron Kang is the first thing that’s truly made me feel alive, as myself . We’ve been together for a year now, and it’s going shockingly well. I can’t believe I get to call him mine, and that he actually wants to call me his, after everything I’ve put him through.
To be honest, though, the past doesn’t affect us nearly as much as it used to. Things were different back then. It’s almost disturbing how much has changed…
Since my poem is done, mostly— you know us artists, nothing is ever truly finished —I opt to cuddle up with my boyfriend for the remainder of our flight, watching episodes of Brooklyn 99 with a blanket over us so that I can casually feel him up without scandalizing the other passengers.
And before we know it, we’re touching down at Heathrow Airport, arriving for our next adventure, in a place I haven’t been since I ran away from it at eleven years old.
I won’t say it isn’t odd being back here, because it certainly is. I have only fleeting awful memories of this place, so old they’ve begun to warp over time. But we’re here for a reason…
And besides, Byron associates much of London with his grandfather, so this is a trip I know he’s been longing for.
Traveling has become a big part of our lives, and it makes sense. Byron was locked up for three years. Once things ended and they settled down enough, he was desperate to break free for real.
We found a small but cozy flat in Astoria, moved in and began building a new life together .
And then, as soon as we were able, we started taking trips.
Naturally, funds were limited, so we couldn’t simply jet-set all over the place like the heirs to some billionaire tycoon.
But we managed to have fun while keeping it modest.
The first place we went was Atlanta, so that I could say a final goodbye to Alice.
As Byron and I get our luggage and get into an Uber, my mind is sorting through memories of him holding me while I fell apart at Alice’s gravesite. It was difficult… Like reliving the night I lost her all over again.
I don’t know if I ever won’t carry guilt over what happened to Alice. I still feel somehow responsible, though I know it wasn’t my fault. Dr. Love has made sure to drill this into my head.
“There’s a big difference between killing someone and simply being a shitty boyfriend,” he would say during our weekly sessions.
It made me smile and allowed me to breathe just a little easier. The comfort he gives me is one thing that’s never wavered, in all the years I’ve had him as my doctor. Despite how angry I was with him for a while there, I can’t discount how much he’s changed my life, for the better.
I wish I was able to see him more often, but our schedules and locations don’t allow as much these days. Hence, the other reason this trip is so exciting… Well, part of it.
Byron and I get settled into our hotel, making almost immediate use of the bed, and the shower, and the desk, and the window that overlooks the Thames. And once we’re sufficiently sated, muscles sore and balls empty, we get cleaned up and head out to meet some friends for dinner.
They’ve chosen a place that’s supposed to have excellent Chinese food, and Byron and I arrive to find them already seated at a table in the back, with privacy. Makes sense, all things considered.
They barely notice us at first— typical . Too busy kissing and smiling and whispering things to each other that are most likely a combination of sweet and filthy. As we approach, they finally look up.
“Hey!” Felix cheers, jumping from his seat to hug us both. “I’m so happy to see you guys!”
Lem stands as well, though much slower and less outwardly enthusiastic.
“Look who it is… Our cum buddies,” he sneers and Byron chokes. Lemuel chuckles, “How was your trip?”
He hugs me first, then Byron, giving us each one-half of a Mississippi. Still, it’s fascinating. I never so much as grazed his flesh in all the years he treated me, pre-Alabaster Pen. I was beginning to think he was a mirage…
Or an imaginary friend.
Oh, come on. Not even fair!
“Long,” I mumble my answer to his question, taking a seat beside Byron, across from Lem.
He chuckles—something he’s started doing much more since the wedding. Smiling, laughing, general human behaviors. Of course, they’re still done in quiet, blasé sanguinity, because that’s who he is. But I wouldn’t want him any other way, and I’m certain his husband feels the same.
I’ve come to realize over the last year that I do love Lemuel, but not in any romantic sense.
I think of him a bit like a father figure— okay, maybe more of a hot uncle .
Either way, he’s always been a supportive and stable presence in my life, something I never had before him.
The crush I’d developed in the past was more about having someone reliable in my life, someone who listened and understood. Who saw me.
But now I have Byron for that, and he’s much more my type—not to mention infinitely less infuriating.
Byron is the perfect person for me, similar to me in ways that keep him always empathizing, but with enough differences to keep us forever bickering and laughing at each other.
Truly, I cannot imagine a better partner in crime.
I love Byron Kang in every single facet of my existence.
“Please,” my love scoffs at me. “Eight hours is nothing. Just wait for our trip to Seoul.”
I bite off my grin, taking his hand on the table. “I absolutely cannot wait, sweet fury. It’s going to be magnificent.”
“I’m jealous,” Felix sighs dreamily. “We haven’t gotten to anywhere in Asia yet, and I’m dying to go.”
“Honestly, I’m amazed you’re traveling at all.” Byron blinks. “Isn’t it dangerous?”
“Yes,” Lem grumbles, but Felix waves him off.
“Life is dangerous. After what we’ve all been through, we have to make the most of this.” He smirks at Lemuel, who narrows his heated gaze in return.
But then he takes Felix’s hand, kissing the ring on his finger. “What am I supposed to do with you, Mr. Love?”
“Whatever you want, Dr. Monster,” Felix purrs through a sickeningly love-drunk grin.
Byron and I share a look, one of our wordless passes of relationship hubris that has us both chuckling.
Yes , we’ve made it to the stage in our relationship where we think we’re better than every other couple.
Amazing in itself, because I never thought I’d make it past sleeping with someone, let alone to a place where my partner and I feel comfortable lofting our love over others.
But then he kisses me, and it’s slow and passionate. Because we’re equally bloody disgusting, so who are we to judge?
The four of us order food—actually, we let Felix and Lem choose for us since they’re the Chinese food connoisseurs—and we eat together amidst casual conversation.
We haven’t seen them in months, so there’s a lot to catch up on, most of it pertaining to what’s happening on the island.
They talk about their honeymoon in Belize, and we talk about Montreal, Maui, and Mexico.
And then we laugh about how the last three places we visited start with “M.”