Page 142 of Pure Silence

He had finally gotten Day the cell phone and laptop he’d been planning to, and Day was nearly done with completing his high school diploma. They were already looking at colleges for the fall, and Day had expressed an intense interest in art. Perhaps he’d been inspired by looking at the many beautiful paintings at the museum, and Goldie was happy to encourage him to do something that he would love.

Day’sotherpastime remained his priority, however.

Goldie no longer fought with Day about it. He already knew it was pointless, and Goldie had learned by now that certain things in his life were inevitable:

His back was always going to hurt the worst in the morning, coffee would run straight through him, and Day was going to keep killing people.

Goldie didn’t always know when Day was doing it. They’d already established a pretty consistent routine, but Day started taking walks in the evenings after all the drama with Florence had blown up. At first, Goldie thought Day wanted the time to clear his head as the attention from reporters was quite overwhelming. They couldn’t go anywhere without being hounded for weeks, and Day declined leaving the apartment because his headphones weren’t enough to block it all out.

Eventually, the fuss died down, and Day felt comfortable enough to come out with Goldie again. They visited the museum regularly, stopped by the zoo sometimes, and they even found a restaurant with a very quiet patio table they could eat at when the weather was nice.

Still, Day insisted that he needed to take his evening walks and that he wanted to go alone.

That’s when Goldie suspected it was happening, and he was happier being ignorant.

Although he still did not consider himself to be very religious, he had taken his baptism with Day seriously enough. He trusted Day’s miraculous ability to target sinners and escape all responsibility for dispatching them, and the best thing Goldie could do was stay out of the way.

The things Goldie had witnessed were too incredible to deny that there wasn’t some kind of mysterious force at work that protected Day, though he still secretly hoped one day Day would no longer need to take those late night strolls. Day wasn’t taking them as often now, and for that at least Goldie was thankful.

Blessed by God or not, Goldie still worried about his murder muffin.

Another perk of the baptism was that Day and his father had decided that it was okay to speak with Goldie as long as they were home alone. Goldie had proven himself to be a faithful husband of flesh. Day maintained his vow of silence outside of the apartment, but otherwise he was free to speak with Goldie as he pleased.

Which was really great because Goldie did get a bit tired of the weird Biblical talk.

Well, except in certain situations of the unclothed variety, anyway.

Then it could be pretty hot.

That aspect of their relationship remained passionate, and Goldie enjoyed it immensely. They bought new toys, explored the internet for sensual inspiration, and Day would spend hours and hours worshiping Goldie’s body. He was respectful of Goldie’s limitations with his back, especially after that charity match had taken its toll last week, but Day was always happy to please himself in other ways when Goldie wasn’t up to joining him.

Goldie was content to help out when he could, whether it was his mouth, his hands, or even letting Day just use his hole as a toy before they went to bed. However they did it, it was wonderful.

They were cuddling on the couch with Twinkle and Purrcy, watching television before it was time to head to bed. It was a Saturday, so it was a bit later than usual, and Goldie was near dozing already. Having the warmth of Day in his arms plus the two cats was a recipe for a quick snooze because there was nothing so comfortable as snuggling with the ones he loved most.

His eyes were closed, and Day was flipping channels, trying to find something to watch.

Goldie was about to suggest they turn in for the evening when Day paused on a sports show that was talking about wrestling.

Naturally, the subject of the conversation was Goldie.

“Goldilocks was amazing,” one of the male hosts was saying. “Twelve years didn’t do a damn thing to hinder his athletic ability.”

“Do we have to watch this?” Goldie mumbled.

Day shushed him.

Goldie laughed.

Though Day pretended not to care about wrestling, Goldie knew Day was becoming a bit of a superfan.

After watching his match at the Ballroom Blitz, Day had spent days looking up Goldie’s old wrestling videos and hinted more than once that he wouldn’t mind if Goldie ever wanted to do more performances. Because of Day’s aversion to the public and also since he generally posed a danger to the public, Goldie had set Day up in a private skybox at the arena where the Blitz was held—one of his terms for agreeing to the match—and he swore he could hear Day cheering for him through the glass that night.

Maybe it was the spandex.

Whatever the reason was, Day was very interested in hearing anything and everything people had to say about Goldie. The good always made him very happy, though the bad had led to an intense debate with his Father about how taking out trolls on the internet should arguably be considered a form of dispatching sinners.

“Don’t get me wrong,” the first host went on. “I miss that blond hair, but he was rockin’ the gray.”