Roses Wilt, Bites Scar [boyxboy]

Chapter V

~Saturday 7th March 2011~

Arlo couldn't move. He could barely even breathe, just stood there, stunned. Sold, for ten billion, to Mr Macello. The auctioneer's voice echoed through Arlo's mind, making his head spin, causing nausea to swell in his stomach. He almost wished Konstantine just hadn't mentioned Mr Macello at all, then he wouldn't feel so anxious about meeting the man that had just bought him.

Arlo wasn't sure what move to make. His limbs felt heavy, like they were coated in concrete, but his mind was buzzing and alert. He looked toward the exit once again, then surveyed the crowd, who were now looking up at him once again. Some looked unhappy, mostly the ones who had bid for him in the early seconds, but the majority still had that apprehension in their expressions.

Finally making a decision, Arlo stepped forward, his eyes set on the exit, only to feel an arm around his waist and a gentle grip on his wrists. He peered over his shoulder, seeing Konstantine's blank expression. At least, that's what he had thought at first. Examining it more closely, he could see the man was gritting his teeth, his lips set in a hard line, he almost looked... angry?

The two just stared at one another for a moment, before Konstantine nodded subtly toward the door at the other side of the stage. Arlo felt the man trying to coax him away, but didn't respond immediately, wondering if he really would be able to get to that exit. He was strong, and he knew how to fight, but he had no idea where the door led. Or if it was even real. It wouldn't surprise him to find that it was some fake put there to catch out the escapees.

With a quiet sigh, Arlo allowed Konstantine to guide him from the stage, actually thankful for the grip on his waist since his legs suddenly felt so weak. He didn't think he would pass out, but he wasn't sure how long he would be able to stand either. He had the almost overwhelming urge to break down, to drop to his knees and sob and beg for someone, anyone, to help him. But that wasn't who he was, and he refused to give the bastards what they wanted. He would fight until the very end, like he always did.

"Tavien told me you were bought for ten billion, highest bid here," Arlo knew Konstantine was only trying to make conversation, probably trying to take his mind off the situation so he didn't do something stupid, but that didn't make him any less fearful.

"Why didn't you want Mr Macello to buy me?" Arlo didn't like how small his voice sounded, how it wavered and shook with each word, "why do you call him devil?" Konstantine merely sighed, shaking his head, looking like he actually might care about Arlo's existence, "Konstantine, please, just tell me. He bought me, who is he? How the fuck does he have ten billion dollars to spend on human trafficking?" A cool breeze bit into Arlo's bare chest when Konstantine led him into a cleaner, more sterile-looking room. It had white walls, and a white floor, but the door was still splintering oak. It didn't quite fit.

"Here, you're cold," Konstantine removed his jacket, draping it over Arlo's shoulders, yet the boy just continued to stare at him, waiting for an answer to his questions, "I prayed for you, Arlo," Konstantine admitted in a soft voice, his gaze averted elsewhere in the room, "I prayed that he wouldn't bid on you. I actually went into back room, I knelt and I prayed for first time in five years. I'm sorry it wasn't enough, God doesn't listen to people like me."

"It's the gesture that counts, don't beat yourself up over it," Arlo touched Konstantine's hand lightly, his fingers grazing over the man's knuckles cautiously before he gripped it, "thank you anyway, for being so nice to me in here, it's probably the last time someone will actually treat me like a human. A good final memory, I suppose."

"You're first person in long time to make me wish I didn't work here. Made me wish I was lawyer, or cop, helping people, not condemning them. I wish I could help you, Arlo," the boy shook his head, keeping his eyes on the scars on Konstantine's hand whilst his mind calmed. The storm in his skull soothed, the waves cresting gracefully, not battering the shore, and finally he could think straight again.