Darren and I were sitting alone in the green room, the ticking of the clock the only sound disturbing the naked silence between us. He was sitting opposite of me, strumming his fingers on the arm of his chair; his face turned out the window, where below, cars and people moved around like ants. With his other hand, he gently caressed the glass, as if he were about to make love to it or something. I chuckle, startling him, his back straightening suddenly with surprise.

"What?"

"Nothing."

I turn back to the magazine and glaze over an article on lung cancer again for the twentieth time in fifteen minutes. Instinctively, my hand heads for my pocket, searching for my trusty Camels, but stop suddenly, upon viewing the 'No Smoking' sign, hanging above the door, as red as blood. Cursing silently, I pick up my cup of coffee instead and feel the hot, soothing liquid burn down my throat.

Tick...tick...tick...

Suddenly, I get the sensation of someone watching me, eyes causing heat and tingles to run down my body. I look up just in time to see Darren turn away quickly, a rosy blush staining white alabaster cheeks. I smile behind the magazine and clear my throat.

Tick...tick...tick...

All of a sudden, Darren interrupts the silence.

"Why does time always seem so slow when you're waiting to be interviewed? We still have twenty minutes and it seems like we've been here for two hours." He was looking at the clock on the wall. 10:17.

"But on the other hand, say you were about to be executed in twenty minutes. Then the time would pass quickly," I answer back.

"So I should pretend we're going to be killed in twenty minutes?"

"Yea. Because I would like nothing more than to spend my last few waking moments on earth in a room alone with you, Darren."

He laughs and runs a hand through his thick black hair, sighs, and turns back to the window. Then he whips his head back towards me. "But, waitsay, you didn't know if you were going to be killed or not, or if you're waiting to know if the execution is going to be overturned...or you don't know how you're going to be killed. Then the time would pass slowly," he says, deadly serious.

I stare at him for a few moments before responding. "Darren, are those words actually coming out of your mouth?"

He laughs again, throwing his head back momentarily, then turns back out the window.

Tick...tick...tick

I pick up the magazine again, this time, bringing it closer to my face, masking it. I peek over the edge, so I can look at him. He rubs the back of his neck, arching it, exposing to me its long nakedness. His other hand, he places it on his thigh and taps his foot. I try not to stare at the way the black fabric clung to his thighs and hips and instead, bring my gaze upwards to his face, catching him turn away from the window, glance in my direction furtively, then quickly bring it downwards, almost in shame. He sighs loudly and looks at the clock again. 10:21.

Suddenly, the door opens and inside steps a man, who turns from Darren to me and flicks us towards him with a hand gesture, which, like a fake air-kiss on the cheeks, is only familiar to world-weary Hollywood ingenues. I raise my eyebrows at Darren, who stifles a giggle. Belatedly, I stand up and approach the man, watching Darren try to accost him like a normal human being, with little success.

He hands us two little black microphones. "You guys are up at twenty before the hour. You'll hear your name and make sure you're ready." With that, he whooshes out the door again, which closes shut with a slam.

I sigh, pondering the black devil-scorpion in the palm of my hand, eventually pinning it onto the collar of my sweater. I look up at Darren, who was still struggling to attach his onto himself.

"You know, Darren, it's not that hard," I smirk.

He looks up at me, with a sullen expression on his face, which he tries to hide with a half-hearted smile. "Thanks for the observation, Jonesy."

I look at him turn back down and mull his shirt for a few moments before saying anything. "Herewhy don't I help you with that" I approach him, closing the short distance between us until I'm a few inches from his face.

Wordlessly, he drops his hands but rather than look at my face, he stares into the front of my black sweater. Gingerly, I pluck the microphone from his collar, careful to not make contact with his skin. I gather the long wire, which was connected to a small case that was to be clipped to the back of his pants. I take another step towards him and reach behind him, searching for the edge of his black pants. Slowly I gather the wire and microphone into my palm and carefully delve my hand under his shirt, pulling the wire up with me as I approach his collar.

Tick...tick...tick...

Neither of us are speaking, and I don't dare breathe, in fear of disturbing the silence. I reach underneath his collar, taking the microphone from my other hand and clip it onto his shirt.

"Theredone." I barely whisper, looking down into his now up-turned face. He never says a word, just lays one palm on my chest, bunching and stroking the wool with his fingers. I gently stroke his cheek, cupping his chin and bringing it to my lips. When my throbbing lips finally make contact with his, we mutually exhale a silent breath of release. He gently enfolds his arms around my shoulders, running his fingers up my short blond hair. He gently moans and just as I am prepared to bring my tongue between his wet, parted lips I hear footsteps and shouting. I practically throw him away from me when the door slams open.

"What the hell are you two doing?!? You've been called out twice already!! C'mon, guys, let's hustle!" He doesn't even bother to see if we're following when he runs out the room.

We never move or say a word, just stare into each other's eyes, as the clock relentlessly ticks on.

Finally, he manages between deep breaths, "Well...*that* went by quickly"

"I guess we better go," but instead we remain in the Green Room, inert. I look down at my sweater, at Darren, then out the door. With one quick movement, I tear the microphone from my sweater, then do the same with Darren, throwing the godforsaken instruments on the floor. Surprised, Darren looks up at me inquiringly.

"You heard him. We have to go out." I extend my hand out to his. He looks confused, but takes it anyway, and we step out of the room. Slowly, we head towards the stage, where the whole world wait expectantly for us. But just before we are supposed to go onstage, I turn down an empty corridor instead, breaking into a sprint and dragging Darren behind me, with yells and shouts following us in the background.

"Daniel!!" He cries, his voice seemingly far behind me as I hurl open the door leading down the stairs, running down them three at a time, still dragging Darren behind me with one hand. I never slow down until we finally reach the bottom and run out back door into an alley, slamming the door behind us with a slam.

He collapses against the wall, chest heaving, face flushed red. He brings his eyes slowly up to mine, panting. He doesn't breathe a word, and his expression is unreadable.

"Darren...I'm sorry...are you okay?" I stretch out my arm, about to place my hand on his shoulder when he grabs it with his hand. A grin breaks across his face.

"Tired?" He dares me.

He runs down the alley, this time, he's the one dragging me as he runs out into the busy, crowded streets of Manhattan. He doesn't even stop when he runs into the street, ignoring the cars which screech to a halt just a few feet from us, waving his hand maniacally at a passing yellow taxi cab. Miraculously, the cab stops, and we hurl ourselves inside, me collapsing over Darren's body, pinning him to the backseat.

"Darren, are you crazy?!?!" I should have screamed at him for almost killing us, but it's hard when you feel so insanely happy. Calming down, I look down at Darren and cover his mouth with mine again, when the cab driver interrupts us, clearing his throat. We look at each other, then at the cabby, and we both completely lose it, laughing maniacally.

"Oh...umm...we should be going somewhere, huh?" Darren asks.

"Just go anywhere...as far from here as you can possibly drive." I giggle.

As the cab starts again, I pull myself away from Darren and into a sitting position, looking out the back window at the tall skyscrapers get smaller and smaller, and at millions of anonymous people continue their business, fading into the oblivion of the landscape behind us. I turn back to Darren, who was also looking behind with me. I hook one arm around his shoulder, cradling him as he leans against my body. I kiss his up-turned face delicately and ponder the road ahead of us. I don't know what lies ahead of us, but I do know one thing. Darren will be beside me and life will be good. And that's all that really matters, anyway.