The Plot Bunny
Guardians #1

Excerpt

Luc stared at the document on the laptop screen in dismayed frustration. There was only one word written in the damn thing, one single word mocking him, uselessly occupying 10kb of memory on his hard drive. The title of his next story, Misunderstood.

Yeah, right. Misunderstood. How cliche could you get? There were so many books about emo teenagers finding love and struggling out of their depression that it wasn't funny. Nothing shocked the world anymore, although Lady Gaga did try her best. Not that Luc wanted something particularly shocking for his next story. He just needed an idea, one single idea that could let the words flow and make that damn document occupy more space.

With a huff of annoyance, Luc pressed the "X" on top of the document, feeling the sudden urge to break something when the system asked him if he wanted to save his progress. What progress? He hadn't registered any for three months.

His first novels had sold like hot cakes and Luc's publisher had told him to take advantage of the moment, to use the profitability of his niche while it lasted. The public was fickle and one never knew when its tastes changed. "Vampires are hot today," she'd said, "but people ache for something new, for the next big thing. You can give them that."

Once, Luc had believed that. He'd truly thought he could become famous through his books, the idol of thousands of people and fanatics. He'd seen himself give conferences and hold speeches, dreamed so much. But life just didn't work that way and Luc's recent writer's block proved that better than anything.

He couldn't say his slump had any particular reason. He was perfectly happy living off money he'd earned by doing what he loved. He even had a handsome boyfriend with a mouth that could suck golf balls through a hose. But what Luc didn't have was ideas.

Luc picked up his cigarettes and left the room. He didn't think he could stand looking at the laptop for much longer. His steps led him to the balcony and he opened the French doors. The scent of begonias invaded his nostrils and the chilly autumn wind ruffled his hair. Luc leaned against the banister and lit a cigarette. In the darkness, the lit end of the Marlboro almost looked like a firefly.

Luc smiled bitterly at his fancies. Why couldn't his mind stay off stupid metaphors and come up with a plot?

Perhaps he was just trying too hard. Squeezing juice out of a dry fruit was pointless. And there he went with the metaphors again. Besides, he refused to think he didn't have any juice left. He just needed to recharge, take some time to rest and relax.

Nodding to himself, Luc tossed the untouched cigarette over the banister and went back inside. He scanned through the living room for his cell phone before remembering he'd left it in his study.

Carefully keeping his eyes off the still open laptop, he retrieved the phone. Two missed calls; one from his youngest brother, Taylor, the other from Simon. Perhaps he should get together with Simon, have a fun night out. He'd been too wrapped up in not working to do that lately.

Already feeling much better, Luc fast-dialed Simon's number. After a few rings, he started to get concerned. Where could Simon be this time of night? He wasn't the type to go clubbing without Luc.

Finally, Simon picked up. "Hi babe," Luc greeted enthusiastically. "Whatcha up to?"

"Ummm...nothing much." Simon sounded hesitant. "Just hanging."

"Oh. Then you're free to see me tonight?"

Silence reigned for a few seconds before the other man answered. "Not quite. Did you get my message?"

Luc blinked in confusion. "Message? What message?"

The reluctance in Simon's tone turned into annoyance. "The one I left to you on your home phone, and on voice mail. I can't believe this."

A low chuckle sounded through the connection, distinctly masculine, but unfamiliar. Luc's insides froze. "Simon? Who's there with you?"

"No one," Simon replied coolly. "Just a guy. It doesn't matter."

Luc opened his mouth to answer, but Simon stopped him before he could say anything. "Luc, I'm sorry, but this isn't working out. You're always so absorbed in your books and you never have time for anything else. Even when we do meet, you never talk about anything else but characters, plot, editing, and so on and so forth."

Luc blanched. "But I thought you loved that about me."

"I do. I did," Simon replied. "But Luc, I need a real person in my life, not a writing encyclopedia."

Feeling dazed, Luc just nodded. "It's okay. I understand."

Luc had always considered Simon one of the few people who understood. His lover shared a similar passion, only his obsession was sculpture, not writing. They'd been good together, simply because they could not accuse each other of neglect. Or so Luc had thought.

It occurred to him that perhaps not all was lost. Simon would still take him back if Luc promised to change. But in the end, could he make good on such a promise? Probably not. It wasn't fair to Simon to keep up a relationship that had no future. After all, with Luc lost in his writing and Simon in his sculptures, they'd end up fuck buddies at best.

"I'm sorry too, that I couldn't give you what you wanted," he told Simon.

Simon sighed. "I wish...no, never mind. See you around, I guess."

"Yeah," Luc automatically replied. "See you."

Simon disconnected the call and Luc stared at his cell phone, trying to process what had just happened. He'd been dumped by his boyfriend, a disastrous ending for a fourteen-month relationship. Luc didn't kid himself. He'd postponed their dates over and over. Simon had every right to end things, but it still hurt like a bitch.

Luc put his phone back on the table, dumbfounded. As he turned, the laptop's blank screen mocked him. "Yeah, fuck you too," Luc muttered.

Taking off his shirt, he retreated to his bedroom, his sanctuary, where he proceeded to cast away all his frustration with his best friend, his hand.