18. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
That ?
I never imagined four letters, one syllable, could hurt so badly.
He couldn’t even look at me.
All I wanted was his eyes, and now that he’s finally given them to me, they’re cold, and dead. Like he doesn’t even know who I am. Like he was in on this fucked up plan the whole time.
My suitcase was open.
He had free rein of the room while I slept.
He played me.
I’m nothing but a fucking job.
“Did you really think I didn’t know about him?”
Curren takes another step towards him, ripping away any hope that still remained inside me, as his eyes settle back on Issak, Marius—whoever this cunt really is.
And there’s a brightness to them, like there was when we laid in bed.
When he ran his fingers over my hair. When he kissed me on the forehead and said he wouldn't hurt me.
“I didn’t know you cared so much.”
“How can you not? It’s been me and you since I was fifteen.”
“But why?” Curren’s voice is like honey. “Why would you go to this much trouble?” Now that they’re close enough to touch, he reaches out to brush aside some of Issak's hair.
“Because I knew you’d never see me as long as he was in the picture.”
Curren’s hand rests against Issak’s cheek, and he speaks so low it’s hard for me to hear. “How did you even know he existed?”
“I remember the day he showed up. You stared at him for so long… Y—you never looked at me the same after that. You didn’t sleep in my bed for a week.”
My eyes dart back and forth between them.
Curren told me, promised me, he’d never been with a man before.
“I could protect you from my bed just as easily.”
Issak lowers the gun and reaches for Curren’s hip. When he doesn’t pull back, he shuffles forward as Curren’s hand slides to the back of his neck. “Why haven’t you ever seen me?”
“I’m looking at you now.”
My chest tightens.
I thought I was free.
I thought we were free.
I thought it was fate that brought us back together, but it was a double agent and the hit man willing to come whenever he called.
There’s nothing left for me.
But it felt so real. Every time he touched me, kissed me, breathed my breath into his lungs because we were so damn close.
I can’t have been the only one who felt it.
I can’t go on if he didn’t mean a single word.
With both of their attention on each other, I strain against the tape on my arms. The chair is digging into my back and my shoulder sockets are aching from how tight my arms are bound behind me.
My legs are no better; each strapped to a leg of the chair and wrapped from knee to ankle.
But, if I push with my toes, I could topple it backwards.
Off the edge.
All the way to the pile of cement below me. Maybe then this piece of shit building that’s falling to bits around us can serve a purpose again.
Testing my theory, I slowly point my toes, but the second I move, Curren’s eyes are on me.
“He’s moving.”
Without looking away from him, Issak has the gun at my temple in a flash.
“No need for that.” Curren’s hand falls from Issak’s neck to slide down his arm, urging him to lower the pistol. “It’s not like he can go anywhere.”
“I… This is all I’ve ever wanted.”
“I know.” Curren nods, taking the gun from Issak and wrapping his arms around him. And as Issak pulls their chests together, Curren slides the gun into the back of Issak’s belt before hugging him in return.
“Why did you become so cold towards me?”
“I’ve always been this way.”
“No, you haven't. We were so close. You were the only reason I made it through juvie.”
“I know.” Curren loosens his hug on Issak to hold his cheeks. “You helped me too. I liked taking care of you.”
“So when did that all change?”
“Some time in that year after you aged out, and I was on my own, I guess.”
“You were never on your own.”
“I’ve…” Curren’s voice cracks, and he briefly pauses. “I’ve always been on my own.”
Like fuck, he has.
I shake my body as hard as I can. I push my toes and rock my head—anything I can do to put myself out of this misery.
Then, the back of Issak’s hand whips the side of my face.
The blood that was already dripping from my scalp smears across my cheek, and my heart leaps into my throat as I feel my balance shift.
This is it.
I’m going over.
I look at Curren one last time, but catch sight of his fist just before it collides with the other side of my face. My jaw cracks, my head spins, and my hope for the end is gone because the force of his punch corrects my balance.
“I told you not to worry about him,” Curren snaps, gripping Issak’s jaw and wrenching it back to look at him. “What’s the worst that’s gonna happen? He offs himself before you get a chance to?”
I try to scream through the tape.
Why did I leave my gun?
Why did I think Curren was the one he wanted to hurt?
“Looks like it’s finally getting to him,” Issak snickers, then takes hold of Curren’s wrist. “What’s with the gloves?”
Curren hesitates, looks away, then takes back his hand. “Do you like them?”
“They’re fine. It’s not really cold enough, though.”
“I know.” Curren rubs his hands on the front of his trousers, like he’s trying to wipe them clean.
“Oh, fuck!” Issak cuts him off, hugging him again. “I forgot. I’m so sorry. That’s why your pack needs disinfectant wipes.”
“It’s fine. Don’t worry. It’s the least of my concerns.”
“Still.“
“It’s fine.” Curren's tone is short, but he rests his head on Issak’s shoulder, stopping his sentence in its tracks.
“Please come with me.”
Curren runs his fingers through Issak’s long hair; so different from mine. “Where do you wanna go?”
“Anywhere you want. I’ll move anywhere for you.”
“What if I refuse to do anymore hits?”
“Ha?” Issak pulls back to look at him. “What will you do for money?“
“No more hits!”
“Oh—okay, yeah, alright. We’ll figure it out.”
“Money’s not an issue. It doesn’t burn a hole in my pocket like it does yours.”
“But where do you wanna go?”
“Fuck me.” Curren pushes back from Issak, separating their bodies completely. “I dunno. Greece?”
My lips quiver, tugging on the tape. Tears stream through the drying blood on my cheeks, and I hang my head, unable to stomach any more of the unfolding story that had been mine.
“I’m sorry.” Issak reaches for Curren, but his advance is met by another retreating step.
Curren holds up his hands. “I hate it when you act like a little bitch. It’s fucking annoying.”
Still reaching out, Issak drops to his knees. “I’m sorry—“ he catches himself, lowers his hands, and takes a moment to refocus. “I’m just nervous. I’ve been holding onto this for half of my life. It took me years to find him, and even longer to get myself into a position where he’d listen.”
“So what? You’re a cop now, too?”
“You can’t be that na?ve. How would that work with me living thousands of miles away?”
“Enlighten me then.”
“Do you want him to tell you?”
I whip my head back up.
“No Marius,” Curren says, stepping closer so he can look down at him. “I want you to tell me.”
Issak lets out the most lust-filled, pathetically-submissive breath, because nothing compares to the sadistic masculinity Curren holds within him.
Licking his lips, Curren stares down at Issak, then lifts his foot and steps on his crotch. Sucking in air, Issak fists his hands and lets his head fall back.
“Are you going to tell me?” Curren asks, and when the reply isn’t instant, he twists his foot.
“Fuck,” Issak groans. “We could just show him what he’s gonna miss out on. I know you want it, too. You can’t tell me that in all those years we shared a bed, you never once thought about having sex with me.”
Curren shrugs. “Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t.”
“I did… I was hard all night when we slept together, then I’d jerk off in the toilets.”
“Tsk. That’s kinda pathetic. What did I ever do to make you think I’d fuck a man?”
Pausing, doubting everything he’s ever believed, Issak looks towards me.
Squatting down, Curren gently turns Issak’s head away from me. “Don’t waste your time with him.”
“But“
“We were friends. Well… neighbors. We trauma bonded. We were there for each other when shit got bad. But it was more out of necessity than anything.”
“But you. You looked at him like you were—“
“Guilty? Cause I was. I was weak and I couldn’t help him. But that was years before I ever met you.” Closing his eyes, Curren is a statue for several long seconds before opening them again to say; “I’d never fuck him.”
“Really?”
“Really,” Curren whispers as he leans in closer until their mouths are only a few inches apart. “You’ve clearly spent more time thinking about him than I ever have.”
“I never stopped thinking about you . Everything I’ve done since you first walked into my room was because of you. But if I can’t be with you. If you can’t be with me because I’m a man, I… I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“Is that really something to worry about now?”
“The question isn’t gonna go away.”
“I can’t tell the future, baby. But if you worship me enough, who knows what might happen.”
Issak’s lips part, and my betrayal morphs into an unparalleled rage.
“Fuck you!” I scream, only for it to be nothing more than a muffle—but I can’t stop. “Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!”
“Aww. He’s trying to speak,” Curren mocks. “I guess you both love me.”
Like a puppet in a string, Issak nods, then tilts his head to the side and closes his eyes. With a satanic grin, Curren allows Issak to close the distance between them and steal, what he thinks, is his first kiss with another man.
“I love how much effort you put in.” Curren stops him and stands—tugging gently on Issak’s chin so he follows. “And I’m ready to hear about all these secrets you’ve been keeping from me.”
Issak looks towards me again. “I still want him to tell you.”
“And I still don’t want you to pay him any attention. It was your hard work. Take pride in it and brag a little.”
Giving me an, I fucking won, smile, Issak looks me dead in the eyes, and says, “He works for MI6.”
Drawn to Curren, I see his eyes widen, but despite that, he refuses to look at me.