The boys lay, entwined on the silken sheets of the mattress. Their foreheads meeting, faint smiles adorning their faces. Their aura of exultation not diminished by death.
The police report was obscenely straightforward.
Suicide by overdose.
The words were heinous in black and white sans serif.
The press had a field day. The death of two internationally renowned business tycoons.
Their faces graced glossy tabloid covers. Their names graced the cocktail party gossip of society wives. Their cremated remains graced the Pacific ocean.
The day of their memorial service dawned. It was headed by both of their bawling mothers. The bawling was for the benefit of the press.
Inwardly, everyone was happy. Their mothers overjoyed to be rid of their hormonal teenagers. the disgraces. The gay ones. Their fathers ecstatic at the jump in shares caused by sympathetic buyers. The decreased boys happy to be united in death. Really, it was a win-win situation.
But the rest of the world didn't have to know that.