|Charcoal drawing from Paul Bielaczyc|
Bolt was getting good at welcoming Jason home without making too much noise. At first he had barked frantically. Now he just whimpered and whined. Jason knelt down and caressed him. He was glad of the welcome. Dogs didn't judge you on how you look or whether you're witty or interesting. They simply love you for you,
Jason slept badly. Once again the dreadfully realistic dream about Brent came to him, in all its horror. He tossed and turned all night, waking from wild fever dreams, where he was always too late, where he did too little, where he wasn't there for the man he loved.
His initial optimism and hope when he'd first arrived in Australia (was it just 4 days ago? It seemed as if he'd been here for ever) had been replaced by depression. He wouldn't be able to give his heart to any guy, not for a long time. Forget your sorrows in the arms of another might be a good motto when you've been dumped, though Jason doubted even then that it really worked, not if you loved someone enough. But when the person you loved had died, died horribly, what then?
Getting involved with Keith wasn't fair on Keith. And despite what had happened with Luigi, he wasn't ready for casual sex.