Just Like Animals

№ 6

"Now that the power's back, you can return to the basement if you'd like." Chris offered as the two headed back downstairs.  Ricky thought about the offer for a moment before nodding.  He thought a night alone would do him good and give him some real rest where he didn't have to sleep with one eye open.

"Can I take some books with me?" He wondered, referring to the ones he had previously grabbed. Chris agreed, knowing that Ricky was probably bored out of his mind.

When they got back to the den, Chris let Ricky gather his things, carrying his blankets for him as they returned to the basement.  It was still rather cold due to the prolonged time without heat, so he made sure Ricky got cozy before he started to leave.

As he was going up the stairs, Ricky called to him, "Wait... have you heard anything from Jaime?" He asked. He felt a bit like an addict going cold turkey, desperate for anything to soothe his withdrawal pains. If he could just talk to Jaime, maybe they'd be able to work through whatever drove her away.

Chris came back down the stairs but didn't bother returning to Ricky's presence.  "She checks in every day and asks if you're okay." He explained, "Nothing else though." He knew Ricky was hoping for more.

Ricky could feel his heart deflate in his chest and a few tears rolled down his cheeks. "Could you tell her I still love her?" He begged.  The two rarely exchanged sentiments since they were friends before lovers, so Ricky hoped Jaime would understand how distraught he was.

"Sure." Chris agreed, showing sort of sympathy or remorse.  He went upstairs, leaving Ricky to himself, most likely until the next morning.

Naturally, Ricky let himself be vulnerable, crying until his throat was raw and his whole body shaked.  He was red in the face, struggling to catch his breath as he spiralled into despair.  All he could think about was the little velvet box that was sitting in his art studio at home.  He had kept a ring on hand for nearly three years in case he stumbled upon the perfect proposal idea or the moment was just right. 

With all the emotions and the stress eating at Ricky, he couldn't help but vomit a bit on the cement floor.  He laid back down and rolled over towards the wall, pulling his knees to his chest and trying to repress the feelings of guilt and regret.

After a couple of hours of sleep, Ricky woke up to a hand on his back, gently shaking him. He opened his eyes a bit, rubbing his cheeks and feeling the crusty trails his tears left behind.

"Are you feeling okay?" Chris asked, having cleaned up the mess. Ricky nodded, sniffling and closing his eyes again.  He felt a weight on the mattress behind him and the hand moved to his shoulder.

Ricky expected Chris to leave within a few minutes, but he stayed for a while, just sitting in silence.  Eventually Ricky rolled over a bit, lifting his head up.

"You can go ya know?" Ricky told Chris softly, sitting the rest of the way up and looking at him.  Chris was laying down next to him, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling.

Chris shrugged and ran a hand up to Ricky's neck, making him pull away a bit as he grabbed the chain. "I don't need you hanging yourself in my basement." Chris sighed and tugged gently on the lock, making sure it was still secure.

In a moment of frustration, anger, and every other pent up emotion that filled Ricky, he raised his open hand and brought it down on Chris, smacking his cheek hard enough that it turned a bright pink.

At first, Chris was a bit stunned.  Ricky certainly wasn't the assertive one out of the two and Chris had never seen Ricky act out in such a way.  It took a few seconds for Chris to realize what had happened and even less time for him to wrap his fist around Ricky's neck.

"No wonder why Jaime left you." He snapped, sinking into the rage that took over.

Ricky could tell that he was in big trouble with the way Chris forced him flat against the mattress and crawled over him.  He started to panic as Chris' hand tightened, applying more pressure to the front of his neck than he had previous time.  Instead of getting dizzy, Ricky began to cough and wheeze, trying to kick and fight his way out from Chris. 

He stared up at Chris, being truly frightened to the core with the complete lack of emotion on Chris' face spare his large pupils that Ricky could see right through, knowing there was no one home.

Something very small changed in Chris' eyes as things started to fade, Ricky certain that this was his death.  There was a moment of release that was nearly euphoric before pain swallowed his body.

The throbbing in Ricky's head returned, his joints screamed as if he was being ripped limb for limb, his muscles were either numb or horrifically cramped, and his throat was so raw he could barely breathe.

If it weren't for the smallest sliver of light seeping in through a window, Ricky would've assumed that he was in some sort of purgatory.  He shifted as much as possible, trying to find some sort of relief, but his shoulders and hips burned as his hands and feet were lashed together behind his back.

Ricky managed to roll from his belly to his side which made breathing a bit easier but made everything else hurt so much more.  He had to alternate between laying in the two different positions, hoping that someone would come to save him soon.

After a bit, he heard the familiar sound of footsteps on the stairs and he turned onto his side, waiting desperately to be found.  Chris eventually came around the corner, stopping in the doorway.

"Do you know what you did wrong?" Chris asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Ricky hesitated to answer, contemplating his actions and comparing them to everything Chris had done to him so far.  Apparently silence was the wrong answer since Chris turned to leave.

"Wait! Please, please. I'm sorry that I hit you." Ricky begged, voice raspy and it hurting to talk.  Chris stopped in his tracks and turned, looking down at Ricky.

"Good." Chris huffed, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a pocket knife, flicking it open. 

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