The Stains Beneath Our Skin [mxm] ✔

34.1 | When You Least Expect It

The Chinese went nowhere. No address, workplace or personal. The phone number was offline and Cain hadn't been in since he stole Casper away. Which was majorly depressing actually, and the Chinese couple actually seemed super concerned, which made it even worse. Meant Cain wasn't some asshole overlord who upped their life. These people were actually really grateful to him.

They gave Casper about three tubs of noodles to take with him, chatting between themselves in Chinese as they pinched his cheeks, and he thought they offered him a job too, or at least a place to stay. He turned those down. Nice to see he actually looked that fucking trash. Sure felt it.

Turned out he didn't know a damn thing about Cain other than that he went to that Chinese, was Mister Cain Smith Inc., and liked that park with a view. Well, he thought he knew a lot, but knowing what the inside of Cain's favourite coffee place was like didn't help him find it. Plus it wasn't even in this fucking city.

Cain had barely moved here two weeks before he ran into Casper. One night, while they talked on the balcony and Casper had been too starry-eyed drunk to get pissed off, Cain had told him he liked to keep away 'til Casper turned twenty. Casper was only twenty-two now, and then Cain had been out the country, and then he hadn't been brave enough anyway – and if that wasn't stupid fucking fate, what was.

Best he could do was channel Cain, but that got him nowhere fast other than the business district. Skulking outside the offices of some contacts he remembered from Cain's emails just got security called to move him along. Apparently Cain Smith Inc. didn't operate under the name, and his lawyer's company barely listened to Casper say a word before calling security as well.

Three days later found Casper idling in a park. Regrouping, call it. The Chinese couple kept feeding him, which was good because no part of him could bring himself to fuck anyone. After rock bottom, he always needed this refraction period, and usually he'd only give himself a day before diving back in but right now, he felt more unburdened than he ever had in his life.

Sure he still had to use, but Casper was an at least mediocre pickpocket so he could pay, and other than that ... no job, no house, no one who knew him and no one who cared where he'd gone, death on his tail and nothing in front of him but this search that might hopefully end in a taste of redemption.

It was liberating.

Right sunny out and all too, so instead of huddling up in one of those dank corners crooking its finger to him, he went and lay out on the grass in a deserted part of the park, bag behind his head and sun on his face. A little damp, but his clothes were dirty anyway, so who gave a shit. He even had some weed and the air flirted still and friendly against his skin, so he got a little set-up going on his chest, chin tucked in to watch his fingers move over the skin.

He had it between his lips when a twig cracked off to his side.

Casper jerked up and twisted around to a crouch. Fucking legs almost gave out, shitty weak things tired after days of walking, but the adrenaline storming through his veins got them sticking. The small swathe of grass lay empty, no shapes in the thin forest hemming it in. No one there. Casper rubbed his hand over his cheek, scars bunching beneath his palm, and picked up his joint off the floor.

Getting jumpy, roach.

The ghoul would've had a good laugh at him. A pang ran through his chest and he just about slapped himself in the face. Missing your mental break demon. Classic Roach.

Ghoul-Cain wasn't here either today. Almost made it lonely.

Then, while he settled back down onto the floor, eyes still scanning the trees edging the clearing, who walks in from the complete opposite fucking side but dickhead himself. Not Old Man Spiders in his Hair, but the real Cain. All slumped shoulders, hands in his pockets, and tired eyes fixed on the floor. Fucking beautiful with it. Lost enough in his own mind that he didn't spot Casper until he was almost at him.

Cain froze. Casper froze. Seemed like the wind froze and all.

There it is. The norns themselves. Just when I'm not even looking for him.

Cain pressed his hand to his mouth. Finger shook at Casper, once, twice, then he spun on his heel and stalked back the way he came, wet grass sticking to his polished shoes.

The joint tumbled to the grass as Casper scrambled up to his feet. "Wait!"

Not that that worked. Fucker just shouted back without even looking, his voice rough and cracking. "I know I'm bloody crazy. I know I ruined your life. I didn't fucking mean to find you. I'm—"

"I was looking for you!"

His steps halted and Casper sagged. A start. How had he seriously not realised how much he missed Cain's voice? It sounded broken, but he still talked like music.

And his face—

"Just—Just now." Casper folded his arms against his chest, tracing the way the wind make dancing wood-silk of Cain's hair. "I've been trying to find you."

His voice came back with a bite. Hard shoulders and cutting words snapped to the bristling trees. "What? Did you think I didn't know how much of a monster I am? And don't bloody get me started because I have got some fucking things I could say to you too, you foul little creature. Don't try to find me, Cas. Leave me alone and I'll leave you alone."

Shit. Casper rubbed his hands over his face, gritting his teeth against the weight crushing his chest. Great start. Real great. Casper opened his mouth because saying something seemed better than nothing and Cain looked an inch from starting off again when a rush of hot air swept across the clearing.

Not like a summer breeze. It stunk of burnt wood like the whole forest had gone up in flames.

Call it a miracle he didn't piss himself right then.

They were here.