The Stains Beneath Our Skin [mxm] ✔

37.2 | Broken Man

"It—It's me." With Cain's fist twisted up in his collar, he had to choke out the words. This wasn't what he'd expected. Not this anger. Not to him. His mind floundered just as much as his toes did trying to keep his feet on the ground. "It's Cas. I—I remember. I—"

Cain gave a cold, bland smile, and he spoke in a lax drawl. "Levi, I suppose. It's just like you, isn't it?"

Shit. Tears swelled in Casper's eyes, and he couldn't take his hands off Cain's wrist to wipe them away. Now what? "Cain, I—I don't—I came looking for you. It's really me. It's really Cas. It's your Cas."

There it was. A flicker in the pits of his eyes. An ember of warmth. "Prove it."

"Let go."

"Not a chance. Talk then, Levi. Give yourself away."

Prove it. "I changed your email signature to that stupid corporate child thing for four days without you noticing."

Again, that touch of life. More now, and Cain's fingers tightened in his collar. "Easy to find out."

"No, it's—"

"Shut up." Cain gave him shake that rattled his teeth. "One more, or I'm going to torture you until blood and shit's coming out of every orifice you have. Right here, Levi. Right fucking now."

Oh shit. Casper squirmed, tugging at Cain's wrist. His heart hammered now, but it wasn't anything romantic. Not with the cold sweat pouring down his spine. What did he say? God, he was fucked. So fucked.

"Y—You—" Fuck he must have a thousand things, but his mind had gone totally blank. A thousand beautiful sweet things from their months in that house, but he couldn't frame it into something undeniably Casper. That night – the last one – anything from that Cain had already been scared that he'd heard them outside, easy enough to project it to them listening. No, it had to be uniquely them. Trapped inside that house with no one watching.

"Y—You made a joke, remember? About getting me a sippy cup 'cause I almost broke yours, and I called myself the Cowardly Lion, and you the Tin Man. It was a fuckin' dick thing to do, but your—your face looked so funny when I upset you back then. I—" Casper coughed, scratching at Cain's wrist. "I bet you don't remember but I made the same stupid sippy cup joke back at you when you were pissed that time. The—Just before I kissed you in—"

"Casper?" The hands on his collar loosened, easing him down to the floor, and all that hardness seemed to fall away from Cain's face like hunks of dead shell. Trembling. All of Cain trembled, actually. His hands, his knees, his shoulders. His fingers as they lifted to brush over Casper's cheek – three, one above the other tracing the lines where his scars used to be. Then with a shuddering gasp, he snatched them away, pressed the hand over his mouth. "It can't—"

"I ate it, love," Casper whispered. "It—"

"It fucking killed you," Cain spat. "Your stupid fucking idea ruined the few years we might have had together."

A surge of irritation rushed up Casper's tight throat, and he slapped his palms against Cain's chest. "My stupid fucking idea means I'm fucking standing here because I came looking for you! Not because fate shoved me into you in a street so I can look at you with starry eyes and not much fucking else. I remember! Not all of it, but I remember everything about the last one. I—I woke up this morning and I thought it was just another day and I was going to wake up beside you, but I didn't, and I—I—I already booked my plane ticket to find you. I—" Casper stifled a sob in his sleeves. "I was just waiting for the plane, and you were right there."

Cain dropped his collar like a burning brand. All of him shuddered as he turned away from Casper, head tipping back and his hands clutched to his face. Most of the guards had left, but three remained, bumbling together in a cluster and giving stern faces to the passengers still staring vacantly at Cain and Casper's exchange.