Mint and apricots

50. You got me trapped in your mind, but tonight I won't be yours

The title of this chapter is a verse of New Song by Måneskin – if you still don't know them, you should totally check them out. I am obsessed with their music these days.

But let's get this explosion started, shall we?

-----

"You slept with him, didn't you? When? How many times? Answer me! Admit you fucked him, you sorry excuse for a slut!"

"No! No, Luc, nothing happened, we..."

The parking lot had reached its limit of accessible cars, but, as for people, it was empty. If someone had taken the trouble to add to that calculation the poor lighting provided by the surrounding street lamps and the chill of that particular late January night, they could have understood the panic that began to shake Sam's legs when Luc let go of his arm to give him a push and send him a few meters away from him, in the middle of the courtyard. If it hadn't been for the hood of the car on which Sam found momentary support, the boy would have collapsed to the ground.

He was still trying to regain his balance when Luc started growling again.

"You what?"

Sam managed to handle the flames that had been unleashed in Luc's clear eyes just for an instant, before lowering his gaze to the ground, swallowing and shaking his head. His dizziness had come back, his head was aching, he was out of breath and Luc's tugs had almost torn his shirt. Moreover, on the way out of the theater, Luc had not even given him time to retrieve his jacket, with the result that now there was not only anguish at the root of Sam's tremor.

The boy shivered, realizing he was not in the ideal position to fight the battle he had in mind. All of a sudden, the resolution he had waved in front of Gabriel looked like a drop submerged by the ocean of his hesitation, of the ignoble but indomitable temptation to surrender once again.

"Nothing. Nothing happened."

Caught in an instant of skeptical stillness, Luc stared at him with his mouth open and his face twisted into an unpleasant grimace that Sam would have paid to see disappear. He had never hated that much the feeling of being helpless, entirely at Luc's mercy, but his paralyzing fear was proving to be more stentorian than that inner voice screaming at him to get a move on and get the hell out of there.

"You little, insignificant filthy liar," Luc hissed, taking the first, slow steps toward him with bared teeth. "Do you think you can take the piss out of me? Yet by now you should know what happens when you try to fuck with me."

Sam managed to take a single step back before the same hood blocked his way and trapped him. The plea crept up the walls of his throat without asking for permission, driven by the chilling terror that had descended on the boy, and Sam hated himself for letting Luc see the lowest part of his weakness again and bask in the conviction of already being that close to winning.

"No, no, Luc, please..."

"Maybe you actually enjoy it, Sammy?" Luc went on, continuing his gradual but inexorable advance. "Is that why you let other men fuck you? Because you actually like pissing me off?"

Sam swallowed whatever useless, miserable answer was about to come out of his mouth, closed his eyelids and obeyed the instinct that was yelling at him to cover his head with his arms in the last act of defense he could afford, preparing himself for the first blow.

But the seconds passed and the slap – Luc always started by smacking him – didn't come. When Sam opened his eyes, a figure was standing between him and his boyfriend. He had his back turned on him, but the twenty-six-year-old didn't need to see the newcomer's face to know that a pair of amber-colored irises were responsible for Luc's abrupt braking.