"Pretty boy... Pretty boy... My sweetest pretty boy..."
Howie woke up. For a second he didn't know where he was. His muscles were tense. His head was aching and even a small light of a clock hurted his eyes.

Same dream. Over and over again. It felt like he had seen it dozens of times since he closed his eyes few hours earlier. It wasn't same all the time. Beginning varied, ending didn't. There was always an old woman standing, holding a mirror in her hands, whispering those words. Pretty boy.

Howie hated being called for that. It has always been like that. And he had hated it since he was three. Since he started to understand meaning behind words. Pretty boy. You must be weak, vulnerable and maybe gay.

Maybe gay, Howie sighed and got up from the bed. He lighted one lamp and went to stand in front of a mirror. He was completely naked and light coming from his side made wonderful shadows on his skin. Howie investigated himself. His body was nice. Like a man who liked to take care of himself. But he didn't paint his nails like AJ did. And yet no one questioned AJ's sexual orientation. Maybe they should have.

Howie tried his abdominal muscles with his fingers. They wriggled under his touch. It wasn't first time he did something like that. He knew where it was heading to. That's why he stopped, let his hands hang on the side and went to bathroom. Time for a cold shower.

But when he came from a shower, he stopped in front of the mirror again. He now looked even more sexier, towel on his hips, hanging just a little too low, wet hair pulled back yet already making curls in back of his neck. And he could hear voice in his ears. Pretty boy. Pretty boy. He recognized voice but couldn't tell who's it was.

He wasn't anyone's pretty boy. Haven't been for a while. Not since... Slowly he closed his eyes. And when he opened those, sight in the mirror wasn't the same.

First he thought he was still dreaming. But feeling of water dripping from his hair was too real. In mirror was an old man.

Door behind Howie opened. He knew he should have screamed. No one walked into his room if he didn't invite someone. At least without knocking. But door opened and old lady came in. Instantly Howie knew who she was. Woman from his dreams.

"Pretty boy", she whispered, came to Howie and kissed him. He didn't stop her but kissed back. Woman in his arms was familiar to him. He looked at her.
"Who are you?" But woman just smiled and turned to see the mirror. She pointed it to Howie. There they were. Both old and gray. Howie lifted his hand and tried his face. He could feel wrinkles under his fingertips. He saw his tummy hanging, ribs showing as skin on them was thin and blueish. But woman stood next to her.
"Pretty boy", she said time after time. Howie saw his body in totally different light. But slowly he started to believe what woman said. He was still pretty boy. He'd always be pretty boy. To someone. When he wouldn't be boy, when all that he had then would be just faint memory, platinum record in the wall of his bedroom.

Woman walked behind him and wrapped her arms around him. Painfully slackly towel started to drop. Howie concentrated his eyes on woman's. She looked encouraging, smiling warmly. Howie felt how wet fabric fell to his feet. And when he faced what he was most afraid of, image disappeared.

He turned around but woman was gone. And when he turned back, he saw himself as he was, young and powerful.

Howie sighed, picked the towel up and threw it into a chair. Then he climbed back to his bed, pulled chill sheets around him and fell asleep. Dream didn't return that night.

Still next evening he was afraid of going to bed and lingered in a hotel bar. One sip after another. He didn't want to be drunk. He just wanted something to do. Bartender came in front of him.
"Hey pretty boy, another one for you?" Scared Howie looked up. She smiled widely. "Or time to go to sleep?"
"Maybe", he said. "If you come with me."
"My shift is on until 3 am", she said.
"What if I wait for you?" he whispered.
"Then you'd have to drink something else than that."
"Bring me a coke. It's going to keep me awake long enough."
"You don't trust me?" girl asked laughing. Howie looked at him, wondered.
"I do. Here's my key. Come when you're ready."
So he did he'd never done before. Or after. He slid the key to bartender who took it and put it into her pocket.
"I guess you're even prettier when you sleep", she said.
"I can't compete you", Howie said and smiled. "I'll wait for you."
"You don't have to wait too long", she promised.
"I'd wait until eternity."
And he meant it. Because to someone he'd always be pretty boy.

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