One. Two. Three. We begin the scene. What we see: a group of men, barely men but nevertheless out of boyhood. They laugh around a table in a dimly lit bar that has a fire-heated warmth. Two of these we must take particular notice of.
First. This one: somewhat short and creamy pale, with chin-length blond hair, a strawberry blond color that hints of hands caressing it and lips brushing its length, with blue-gray eyes peeking out that dance with mischief but deep enough to hide all needed to be hidden. His lips are soft and full, and though he is not drunk, not even tipsy, the comfort and laughter of the evening give this man's eyes and lips a look that make many think, 'Yes, take me, I am yours.' This man's name is Darren Hayes. He sings, not of the angels he must know and dwell with, but with a band called Red Edge.
Second. The opposite to our seductive beauty just mentioned. He is also blond, but this man's hair is short. His eyes are green-blue, tasting of honesty and openness. His skin is darker, and he is more rugged in body and spirit. Tall, thin, with long limbs and neck and torso, as though one could explore him every night and never see his all. He is Daniel Jones, guitarist in Red Edge. He is most decidedly drunk, and the evening is not half over. But even so, his wit is firmly intact, as we can see as he leads the conversation.
Oh, but this. Watch this. Daniel leans over and whispers into Darren's ear, something inaudible for the rest and to us, for the moment. Daniel lays a hand on Darren's shoulder.
Pause.
As we regard at the seeming gesture of friendship, look over at them. See Darren's half closed eyes, the way Daniel softly breathes in his ear as he talks, and the intimacy of the large hand touching the small shoulder. See the slight smile on both their faces, the leaning of both their bodies together. But then, not touching is often not close enough. See all this. Think what you will.
Play.
Forward several years, when these two have broken away from Red Edge and into the depth of Savage Garden. They have known success and fame. They have known the joy in the love from women, and heartbreak of it. They have known happiness and depression. They have known a great many things, but they know not what to expect.
Camera on Daniel. He is alone, but not lonely, as he has his guitar and is plucking and strumming at the strings with a slow and thoughtful swing. He puts into music and feeling what he can't put into words:
Breathe. The way you breathe. The way you look at me. Glitter, the way you touch my skin. Glimmer, glimmer, star. Shine. Light. Glamour. Love me, I know, my angel. I love you. Glimmer. Twinkle. Glimmer. Glitter. Heart shine. Mine. Kiss, glimmer. Kiss.
The music flickers and spins around the room, murmuring its meanings to those who can hear it. No one.
Cut to Darren. He is lying across his bed, urgently writing in a brown cloth book and shaking his shorter but not short enough now black hair out of his focused eyes. He writes of all the things he's feeling and the minuscule details that make his heart pound and lips part. It is heavy and soft in his room tonight, miles away from the songs strummed for him. He ends his entry in a flourish, but we won't intrude on what he's written. We only stop to notice that after Darren has slid under his blanket and closed his eyes from sleep, and the light is dimming, dimmer, dimmer, and the quiet is only broken by the song of the crickets outside looking for someone to love, after this, there is only a whisper.
"Glimmer."
Next scene: a few days later, maybe a week, maybe a month. We should watch is curiosity but not in surprise as our two, the Earth-born angel and cloud-flung man, speak.
"Would you make up your mind, Dazza?"
Black hair is tucked behind an ear, blue-gray eyes look down. But he does not say anything.
"We've been playing this game for years."
Shuffle.
"I...love you. But it hurts too much for us to just keep...doing...this." This: the teasing, the flirting, the mind-fuck on the world and on them.
Darren looks up, wet eyes on Daniel. No tears. He blinks, but no tears come.
"Tell me! What do you want? Truthfully?" And Daniel's strong hands grab a hold of Darren by the shoulders.
Darren unfocuses his gaze for a moment, looking beyond and remembering back many years ago when this man touched him in this same place, when he'd whispered what had kept Darren both away and close for just as long. Darren sees Daniel standing in front of him again, and still no tears come. The hurt of the expression that Daniel wears, the hurt Darren feels inside, it all overwhelms him, and as their lips meet, after searching for each other for the longest time, we will pull away and let the curtain drop, the light dim, the music uptake and the credits begin.
But oh, we wonder what Daniel told his Darren that night, that night in the bar when it was simple and wonderful. We see Daniel's face again at Darren's ear, and we hear him whisper.
"Glimmer, my love. You glimmer."
