11. Chapter 11
Chapter eleven
Roman
Me:
Good morning.
UnderneathItAll:
Morning
Me:
Ouch…
No fact today?
I must’ve done something wrong.
UnderneathItAll:
Hardly.
Didn’t have a great night.
Me:
It must be the moon or something.
UnderneathItAll:
Lol. Sure. We’ll go with that.
Okay, got something new for you.
Did you know that there are over 220 species of owls?
They reside on every continent except Antarctica.
Me:
Oooh. Birds.
That’s not your usual M.O.
UnderneathItAll:
I thought you might like that since you’re a bird fan and all.
Me:
Not a bird fan.
Just a Macaw fan.
UnderneathItAll:
Noted.
In that case… Did you know that Macaws have a bone in their tongue?
“No shit…” I mumble to myself as I pull up the browser on my computer and type it in the search bar. I don’t know why I even bother because everything that he tells me is always true. For some reason, I still have to check every single time. He’s so fucking smart that it blows my mind sometimes.
As I’m reading about macaws on the internet, a text comes through from Lance. I immediately close out of what I’m looking at and go to his message.
Lance:
Sorry I left in such a hurry. I’ll let you know when I decide what I want to do.
Me:
It’s alright. No rush. Take your time.
Are you feeling any better?
As soon as Lance left last night, I was freaking out.
Internally of course. I had no idea what happened, what set him off like that.
I thought that he just had a nightmare, but whatever it was about, it was clear that it had a huge impact on him and for some reason…
I don’t like it. Just thinking about how he acted makes my fucking skin crawl.
I wonder if I would’ve stayed curled up on the couch with him if he still would’ve had a nightmare.
I laid awake with him for hours, and not thirty minutes after I wiggled my way out from underneath him, he was freaking out in his sleep.
It could be coincidental, but I have a feeling that it isn’t.
It’s not like my text actually matters to him, and that’s probably a good thing, because he doesn’t fucking answer me anyway.
An hour later, I’m spinning my phone around on my countertop the same way he was doing in my kitchen the other day as I debate for the hundredth time whether I should send another text to check on him.
I want to, but it’s not what we do. It’s not what I do.
He said that he wanted a sweet boyfriend though, so maybe he would like it.
Then again, he hasn’t even agreed to be my secret not-boyfriend yet, so maybe he would think it’s weird since I rarely text him.
I could call him, but that feels really forward.
It’s not like we’re actually friends or anything.
He would probably wonder why I’m even worrying about him in the first place.
Do you see the problem here? I can’t be nice, but I can’t be mean either. I can’t be fucking anything with Lance because everything about him turns my brain into a fucking blender of emotions. How am I ever supposed to figure anything out like this?
I don’t even know why I suddenly care so much, but the way he reacted to that nightmare tells me something is seriously wrong, and I’m genuinely worried.
I feel like a dick for being so fucking mean to him all the time when he’s clearly got some other shit that he’s dealing with.
Now that I know he’s not actually sleeping around with half of the prison and we’ve spent a lot more time together, it’s easy to see that Lance was only looking for companionship.
Someone knocks on the door and without thinking, I jump from my seat, practically running to answer the door.
“Hi,” he greets me, his crystal blue eyes glaring up at me expectantly.
He looks perfectly fine. It doesn’t even seem like he’s lacking any sleep, and if it weren’t for the fact that I know he struggles to sleep, I wouldn’t even be able to tell. He’s just fucking beautiful.
“I was headed to the shop, so I thought I’d come up and let you know that I was planning on coming over later so that we could talk about everything.
I’m gonna grab some lunch for Jett and Everest first,” he explains as he points over his shoulder toward the shops.
“And then I’ll probably take a quick shower before I head back.
Maybe an hour or two… if that’s alright with you? ”
“Yeah… okay,” I agree, shaking my head as I look him over again. “That sounds good.”
“Alright,” he says as he takes a few steps backward. “I’ll see you in a little bit, then?”
I give him a nod, watching as he retreats. I close the door and spin around, the silence of my apartment washing over me. The quiet that I’d grown accustomed to, that I liked, it feels heavy now. I wander over to my desk and flip on the monitor screens, but I need a distraction.
Me:
I need a distraction.
Tell me a cool animal fact.
UnderneathItAll:
Irish Moiled are the rarest breed of cattle.
They’re from Ireland and one of their most notable attributes is their ability to thrive off of poor feed.
I smile at the silly fact, but the stupid little text box that shouldn’t be there taunts me.
I can’t fucking figure out why it’s doing that, and none of the tests I’ve done have gotten rid of it.
I move the camera feed of Lance off to the side and pull the code back up on my main screen.
I need to try working on it while I have some free time.
Me:
You’re pretty interesting, UIA.
Can we circle back to that soulmate thing you mentioned?
UnderneathItAll:
Yeah, sure. Anytime.
I feel far less embarrassed about it when you bring it back up.
UIA??
Me:
UIA = UnderneathItAll
Just easier to type.
No need to be embarrassed though. I thought it was cute.
I glance up at the screen, and Lance already has his pizzas in his hand. I flip the feed over to the next hallway, watching him as he heads back to the prison block. I don’t know why he’s going back there if Jett let him have the day off, but I plan to keep an eye on him either way.
UnderneathItAll:
You could always use a nickname instead. You can change the little username for me, too.
Me:
And what should your nickname be?
UnderneathItAll:
Aren’t you supposed to pick it?
Me:
If I’m going to be calling you by a different name, then you have to like it.
UnderneathItAll:
I’m sure you can think of something.
I’ll tell you if I don’t approve.
I look back up at the camera. Lance is messing around on his phone with one hand and balancing a pizza in the other hand. I guess he dropped one of them off at his place on the way and I didn’t even notice. Oops. I type out another reply real quick while he makes his way down the last hallway.
Me:
Hmmm.
TriviaGod?
KingOfAnimals?
UnderneathItAll:
Lol.
I thought you were going for shorter?
I chew on my lower lip as I debate what I could possibly use. I settle on ‘UIA’ until I can think of something better. I glance up at the camera and immediately panic when I don’t see Lance. I click over the feed straight to Everest’s cell and… all hell breaks loose.
Lance reaches out for Everest’s dick, which for some unknown reason is standing proudly outside the cell bars. I drop my phone, scrambling to pull the feed to my main screen for the audio to pick up as Jett grabs Lance by the throat.
What in the literal fuck was Lance thinking? We just fucking talked about messing around with other people, and then Everest of all people? For fucks sake.
“Touch him, and you die, Lance.” Jett hisses as he hovers over Everest protectively.
I don’t know how much Lance knows about Jett, but he’s been through actual bootcamps to force him to cut off his emotions when he’s under distress.
He was bred and built to kill without remorse.
I don’t care how close Lance and Jett are, it takes years to be able to control those instincts.
I swear Lance can be a fucking idiot sometimes.
Everest squirms, and then Jett starts to thrust into him slowly. I pinch the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger as I curse to myself. I really didn’t need to see this shit today.
“I’m gonna— I’m gonna… Oh fuck.” Everest whines.
You have to be fucking kidding me right now.
I can’t see exactly what happens because of the angle of the camera, but whatever it is, Jett does not like Lance’s reaction to it.
“Keep your fucking eyes off of him.” He growls before he slams his hips into Everest. Of course, Everest immediately loses his shit, and Jett reaches around to jerk him off.
I literally don’t believe my fucking eyes as the next part plays out.
I feel like I’m hovering outside of my own body as Jett pulls his hand to his mouth and licks his fingers clean.
“Open up, Lance.” He demands, and Lance fucking melts like the submissive little shit he is.
That’s it. I see fucking red. Not just ‘oh, I’m pissed’ red, I’m talking about blood. fucking. red. I snatch up my phone, glancing back and forth between the camera feed and my phone as I scroll through my contacts to find Jett.
He drags Lance closer to the bars and leans forward, spitting Everest’s cum into his mouth. A growl tears from my chest as I finally hit the call button.
“That’s the closest I ever fucking want you to him. Do you understand me, Lance?” Jett taunts.
I can hear the phone ringing from their end, and I see Everest start to scramble around in Jett’s clothes looking for it. My body is literally vibrating with rage. Who the fuck does Lance think he is? Who the fuck does Jett think he is?
Everest finally stands up with the phone in hand and slides to answer the call.
“Jett…” I immediately growl through the phone.
“Roman…” He replies sarcastically. “Call to save your little pet?”
I sneer at his stupid fucking remark. “Let go of him, Jett.”
“You’re gonna need to put a leash on him until he learns some fucking manners.” Jett grumbles as he pulls Lance so close to the bars that I’m sure he can fucking taste them.
I know all about the training that Jett went through, because I went through it too.
The only difference is that I’ve had years to unlearn some of the bullshit they taught us, while Jett has only had a few months.
If I don’t want him fucking ripping off Lance’s head in the next five seconds, I need to calm him the fuck down.
I take a deep breath, trying to think of the best way to get into his head without him realizing it.
“He’s not my fucking pet. He’s not my anything. He’s your best friend. Now, let him go, Jett.”
“Fuck you, Roman!” Lance hisses at me through his teeth. That causes Jett to laugh, finally releasing him, and putting some distance between them.
“In your dreams, fuckboy.” I hiss back at Lance and the look that washes over his face tells me that I just royally fucked up. Regret wastes no time settling in.
It’s not like I meant it. It’s just something that they would’ve expected me to say. Lance told to treat him the same in front of other people, but fuck if the pain on his face doesn’t shove a knife in my chest.
“I fucking hate you, Roman.” Lance adds as he stares into the camera, causing me to recoil before he turns back to them. “Enjoy your fucking pizza, assholes.”
I hang-up the phone before I toss it onto the desk.
“Fuck!” I shout into the empty room as I run my hands through my hair.
Without thinking, I swipe my arm across my desk, shoving everything off my desktop.
All my shit tumbles to floor in a flurry of chaos.
The candy dish shatters into dozens of shards across the floor, and the monitor swings back and forth as it dangles from its cable.
The plastic cup on the corner of my desk hits the floor and a firework of different pens and markers explode across the living room.
None of it makes me feel any better, because I’m quickly learning that talking to Lance that way isn’t fun anymore.
If it ever even was to begin with. It isn’t banter and it isn’t me goading him into noticing me.
I have his attention now. I have him in my arms. In my apartment.
In my fucking brain, and bones, and blood.
He may not know it yet, but he’s already mine.
So, now it’s just me saying something shitty, that I don’t even mean, to someone that I actually care about, and… I don’t like it.
The good side of me, the side that I’ve buried underneath years of training and a carefully curated persona, it’s at war. The more time that I spend with Lance, the more that side of me claws its way to the surface. The good side of me wants to win. I want it to win.
Lance asked me to fake being nice to him, but none of this has felt fake.
The only thing I’ve done is drop the mask I’m always wearing.
I don’t have to force the things I say or do for him, they’re just…
there. They’re things I wanted to do, so instead of holding back, I just…
do them. Pulling him to me, holding him, getting him his favorite foods, it’s just natural. It’s what everyone does, right?
With shaky hands, I lean over to grab the monitor and slide it back atop my desk.
I stare down at all the shit strewn across the room, and it kind of feels symbolic.
It’s my life in a fucking nutshell. There are broken pieces and misplaced shit in every nook and cranny.
Nothing is where it belongs and some of it will never be the way it was before.
That’s me. That’s what they did to me. I don’t know what the feelings I’m having mean, or what to do with them.
I don’t even know what I should be feeling.
This is what Lance wanted though, right?
I did exactly what he asked me to, but there’s an ache in my chest that disapproves immensely.
Anxiety is crawling up my throat like bile, chewing at my insides.
Wait… nope. I grab the trash can under my desk, dry heaving until I finally manage to calm myself.
I can’t do this. I can’t hold the mask up with him anymore.
I can’t be this person with him at all anymore. I can’t.
I just don’t know how to be anything else when this is what he asked for.