With a sudden jerk, he woke up. After a few fleeting moments of panic, he immediately calmed as the familiarity of his surroundings brought peace to his fears. Soft, white, cotton sheets embraced his form. A light down comforter on top. The very sunlight shining through the gossamer shrouded window seemed almost blindingly white. The temperature was perfect. The mattress was perfect. His pillows were perfect. The scent of pancakes wafting down the hall was perfect. With a deep, contented sigh, he stretched his arms over his head.
“Perfect,” he grinned to himself, as he scrunched back down under the covers.
“Honey?” A melodious voice carried on the wings of angels settled in his ears.
“Mmm,” his smile broadened.
“Honey? Come on now…”
He slowly pulled back the blankets. There, standing in the doorway, was a gorgeous woman. Light green dress with a belt across her waist and a bob in her hair. His wife, he had to remind himself, Isabella.
“Ah, right, church. Of course!” he sat up in his bed with a grin on his face, “I really am sorry… I’m just… Catching up with reality, as it were.”
His wife smiled at him warmly, “Come on. Everyone will want to see you after this fiasco of an election.”
Sylus grinned broadly as his wife turned to leave the room. Sure he was exhausted. His predecessor put up a good fight, but really he didn’t stand a chance against the younger, more in touch Synclaire.
“For the protection and preservation of human dignity,” he recited his campaign slogan for the millionth time. It really was pie-in-the-sky, especially at this level of politics. Sounded more like a presidential campaign than something as small as mayor. But it worked. And now he was mayor of the little west coast town of La Sombra. He chuckled to himself as he gathered his clothing to get changed in the shower.
As he turned around to lay everything out on the bed, Sylus happened to catch sight of his neighbor watering his lawn. Ah, yes. Mr. Miles’ tradition of Sunday maintenance. Why he did it on Sunday when he’d have to be to church that same morning, Sylus wasn’t sure, but he did always admire his neighbor’s meticulous care for his yard.
Leaning on the sill in a tank top, he watched unnoticed. It didn’t take him long to realize how utterly uncouth he was being, but at the same time… he couldn’t take his eyes off the man. Every move he made sent a strange feeling to the pit of Sylus’ stomach. A feeling he honestly wasn’t used to. A strange urge filled him. He wanted, no, needed to run over there and take the man in his arms. His body suddenly needed to embrace Mr. Miles, Jeron, like it needed air to breathe.
No! No! No! That’s not supposed to happen!
“Oh, but it is,” he beamed at his neighbor who had finally taken notice of his gawking, “Always a gorgeous lawn, Mr. Miles. Honored to call you my neighbor!”
Jeron laughed a bit awkwardly, “And I’m honored to live next door to the most progressive mayor this town has ever had!”
A soft grin slipped across Sylus’ lips.
“Perfect,” he breathed.
“What was that?” Jeron called up to him.
Sylus’ smile grew. Words filled his thoughts that he knew he shouldn’t say, yet it was like he had no choice. “You’re perfect, Jeron!”
Mr. Miles became completely still. He stared up at Sylus, their eyes locked.
“Wh-what… What do you, uh, mean?” he forced an awkward laugh.
“I mean, you’re a perfect human being,” Sylus leaned his elbows on the window sill.
“Ah, well, uh… Th-thank you, S-sir…”
“Smart, talented, strong, handsome as FUCK! God DAMN Jeron! What I wouldn’t give to-“
We’re gonna stop this right here…