Kill Me, Kiss Me

TWENTY EIGHT

    WHAT was it? Everything drifted through him in watery strands that wavered as fragile as the surface of a pond.

    A sound—

    A colour—

    A light—

    A nagging that pulled, pulled, pulled, constantly pulling on his mind. What is it?

    What is it, damnit!

    Theo's eyes opened, closed, opened again. Everything felt at the same time, ripped apart and placed back in the wrong orientation. He felt dead. He knew he was not dead, the light hurt his eyes too much for that. Yet unbelievably, it felt worse than dying and coming back again.

    He tried to turn over, but the aching pain shooting through his torso and bottom paralysed him in the same position. He could not move, did not want to move, and even now, as the moment to moment happenings came back in torturous dribbles, he was too tired to process the meaning. Really, what was there to it? Keir had sex with him, and that'd probably not even raised the love gauge by a single percentage.

    It'd probably just plummeted after the whole affair.

    And that was that, he was still in this horrendous simulation.

    Theo flopped his hand over his sore eyes and buried his face into the warm pillow. Thank fucking gods at least he didn't feel sticky even if he felt like shit. At least the sheets were dry, at least there was a stream of light even though it killed his sight!

    At least, he seemed to be coping.

    And at this, he moaned and punched the mattress. That man stuck his thing up his butt! His damned butt! Will he be able to take a shit without thinking of this? Impossible. And why was this important? He didn't even know, but it pressed into his brain that he wouldn't be able to ignore it even when on the toilet, especially when on the toilet. Surely he had better things to worry about?

    He squinted through the gaps in his fingers at the light-painted ceiling above. An emptiness came over him. There was no joy, of course there wasn't, but there was no fear. There was none of that creeping chill that grasped the edges of his mind and tugged until it became unravelled. What he feared had already come to pass; there was only a dread, like the dread of dying.

    But was he scared of it?

    At least, he couldn't tell in the moment.

    Letting out a long breath, Theo dragged his body upwards and half sat on the side of his thigh, breathing through his teeth against the sting that ripped through his lower half. Red marks and purple bruises collided with his eyes over his chest, torso, and he swore he saw ten different bite marks over his thighs and arms before he flinched away.

    Where was that man now?

    A rustle of cloth against cloth sounded from the doorway. Theo quickly threw the sheets over his body, glancing upwards and crashing into black diamond eyes. His breath still breached for lips even though he should be used to it by now. He should've been!

    Keir stood, leaning against the far wall staring at him with a face wiped of all emotion. The sunlight splashed to the floor just before his feet, stopping short of his pale toes as if afraid to touch him. Immersed in the shadow, those features became soft and indistinct, but that gaze, it had become even harder to read. He could discern nothing in those obsidian orbs but the fluctuating sparks of coldness.

    Arms folded together, Keir looked at his face, lingered there, and descended down to the flesh free from the sheets, the flesh hidden in the sheets, the prickle of his bare toes.