twenty-four
“How did you get these scars?”- Callisto
Saturday Morning…
I wake up to sunlight filtering through an unfamiliar room, my head rising and falling with the rhythm of whatever it’s resting on. Memories from last night come rushing back, slicing through the sunlight.
The bitter smell of De Luca’s dried blood on Leo's clothes when he came home.
The image of him curled into a ball, rocking back and forth as he sobbed on the shower floor.
His haunting screams as he begged to be called a monster.
The taste of his lips while he slowly spread me open, finally knowing me.
Then the feeling of being wanted pushing away the isolation I had become accustomed to throughout my life.
I am lying on Leo's chest, the smattering of hair there tickling my nose.
I look up to find sunlight streaking across his face.
His hair is messy with sleep, matted on one side.
A tattooed arm is covering his eyes, but I can still see long eyelashes grazing his freckled cheeks, the line of stubble starting right below.
He looks peaceful like this, and, not for the first time, I wish I could sketch him. My eyes rove over Leo's body, wanting to look at him in the light of the day and not under the shroud of darkness like the night before. It still feels like a dream.
My eyes travel all over Leo's torso, finding it covered in not only tattoos, but also scars. Some are lighter than others, as if they’re older. I push the covers down a bit more to get a better look. I reach out to trace one, not being able to stop myself.
There is something incredibly sexy about them, and my cock twitches under the sheets. The touch must wake him. His eyelashes flutter, the arm resting on my shoulder twitching with alertness. He moves his hand away, gunmetal eyes cracking open the next second.
“Do you ever want out of this life?” I ask, not being able to stop the question from tumbling out of my mouth. He blinks a few times, looking down toward me. If my breath leaves me at the sight, then that is neither here nor there.
My chin is propped up on Leo's pec, my head slowly rising and falling with Leo's breaths. I’m still absentmindedly tracing some of the scars littering his torso, simply because I can’t seem to stop myself.
“I um…” Leo falters, and I can tell he isn’t sure if he wants to answer the question. Not for the first time, I find myself wishing I could read his mind. At least, I finally seem to be getting more than one word answers from him.
“This is all I’ve ever known. It’s not as simple as walking away. I know too much. He’d put a hit out on me in a matter of seconds. I would spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, waiting for a sniper’s round. What kind of life is that? I could never have a family.”
Leo’s expression is sad, almost resigned.
“Do you want a family?” I ask, curiosity lacing the question.
I’ve been wondering about that since I found out Leo was homeless when he was younger.
He must yearn for a family of his own, but how does that factor into the dangerous lifestyle he lives?
I couldn’t imagine trying to raise a family around all of that violence.
“I’ve wanted one since I was fourteen and homeless. My family didn’t want me anymore, so I desperately wanted to create my own. One that would love me and want me. I realized that a home isn’t a place, but it’s people. It’s a person that you build your life with. I didn’t have that for a while,
until Peadar found me.”
Leo traces patterns into the comforter draping across my wide shoulders.
I can’t tell what he is drawing, but it feels like scribbles.
“Then they became your family,” I finish, already knowing what Leo is going to say. He shakes his head, though, and my brows crease together in confusion before I look down, tracing another scar. I can’t seem to stop my fingers from moving without my command.
Leo is so beautiful; his body is made to be drawn. He takes a deep breath, my body easily moving with it. I drop my head to the side, listening to Leo's heartbeat for a few moments before I right it again.
“It’s still not really the same.” He lets out his breath in a whoosh that makes my hair flutter.
“They’re loyal to me. They love me. I have a roof over my head and food to eat because of the organization, but some days I still feel so homeless. Everything around me is fluid, constantly moving and on the verge of slipping through my fingers.
It’s like trying to stand in the middle of an earthquake.”
I take a deep, hesitant breath, and ask, “Do you ever wish your life would have gone differently? Like do you ever wish you made different choices?”
“At first, I did. When my dad kicked me out, I regretted them ever finding out about my sexuality. I regretted being gay, and not like, fighting my urges, I guess. Then I realized there wasn’t a point in regretting it. What’s done is done. Sin mar a tá sé, you know?”
He looks down at me for a brief moment, and I nod in response.
I absentmindedly trace that very same phrase on his chest, my finger swooping over the letters.
“I know I’ve done some fucked up things,” he continues, averting his gaze again. “But I’m alive because of the choices I’ve made. I try not to dwell on what ifs. It just becomes exhausting.”
“Look umm…” he starts, his tone hesitant and unsure.
He clears his throat, looking down to pick at a piece of loose thread on the comforter.
He can’t seem to look me in the eyes. He’s clearly nervous about what he plans to say, his movements stiff and jerky.
I reach for his hand, holding it on top of the comforter.
“I’m um… I’m really sorry for what happened last night. It’s not like me to lose control like that. I honestly didn’t think you would even find me. That’s why I went to the shower. I was just going to calm myself down. I would have gotten over it eventually, picked myself up.”
He still isn’t looking at me, his grip tightening on my hand.
“It’s okay. I’m actually kind of glad I found you. You don’t always have to pick yourself up. Others can help you, sometimes.” I rest my head on my free hand, propping it up on an elbow to get a better look at him. His eyes are still downcast, shadows from his eyelashes dancing across his cheeks.
Before he can comment, I keep talking, “I still feel like there’s more to it. Something that you’re not telling me. You don’t have to, obviously. It’s none of my business, but I want you to know that you can tell me if you want. I know that I’ve been very judgmental of you in the past,
and I’m sorry for that.”
I have more to say, but I let the words die on my tongue because I don't know if I want to go there.
“You have been a judgmental asshole, but it’s okay. I know I haven’t exactly been nice to you either, with the whole kidnapping thing.” Leo smiles, eyes finally meeting mine.
“Oh yeah… that whole kidnapping thing.” I wave it away, as if it was no big deal, returning his smile.
“Anyway…” Leo continues to grin as he rolls his eyes.
“De Luca said something that shook me a bit, and I just wasn’t able to get past it. Especially after our conversation about my family. I kind of freaked out and allowed myself to break. I’m sorry you had to see me like that. I don’t normally let things like that get to me.
I think it was just the stress of the entire day.”
My curiosity is even greater than it was before, which I didn’t think was even possible.
“What did he say? Like I said, you don’t have to tell me, but it may help to, like, maybe talk about it? I don’t know. I never talk about any of my problems, but I also don’t have friends to talk about them with.”
I avert my gaze with the admission. He is quiet, so I finally force myself to look up and find him staring at me, but it’s not with disdain like I had expected.
I expected him to say that rich people don’t have problems, but he isn’t doing that. He looks sad for me.
“Umm… He said…” Leo's voice cracks on the word, so he clears his throat, looking down at our still joined hands.
His is smaller than my own, but also perfect.
I can’t remember the last time I held hands with someone, but it’s nice.
I squeeze his hand in what I hope is a reassuring gesture.
“He said that my mom is dead, and that’s why Violet was working for him. She took a job as a maid to take care of a little sister I didn’t even know I had.”
“He could be lying,” I point out, as he wipes his eyes. A pain stabs through my chest at the sight of him crying again. Memories of him naked and shaking in the shower resurface, his beautiful face wet with water and tears.
I never want to see him broken again. He is larger than life itself and seeing him look so small did something to my worldview.
It altered it in a way that can never be reversed, regardless of whether or not I return to my old life.
I don't even know if I want to at this point.
I barely remember it even though it wasn’t even a week ago. It feels like a lifetime.
“No. I don’t think he was,” he says, shaking his head. “I told myself the same thing, that he was lying, but why would he lie about that? He would need a motive, and I cannot think of one.”
“Maybe he was trying to make you angry.”
“I thought about that… but I don’t know. He just said it so naturally, and usually I can tell when people are lying to me. He had his own tells that I figured out pretty quickly. I just don’t think it was a lie.” His voice is far away, as if he is reliving the memory.
“Oh…” I don't know what else to say. I lay my head down on the pillow next to Leo’s so I can look at him.
“So, I found out my mom is dead from some scumbag who was trying to rape my sister. I still don’t know what happened to my dad, but I have at least one half-sister running around somewhere that I’ve never met. I don’t even know her name.”
He turns his head to look at me, his eyes still shiny with unshed tears.
“Could you get someone to find out? Like someone that is good with computers to maybe do some research on your family? That way you could find out what happened to your dad and your mom. You could maybe even find out your other sister’s name.”