Golden Nightingale (KinnPorsche/MileApo)

Chapter 8: Tyrant's Treasure

The overbearing stench of what Apo could only describe as excessive body odor (lack of proper hygiene), urine (drunkards just pissing wherever they pleased), and the coppery scent of blood, just made him dry heave for the fourth time in the last ten minutes.

Small miracles were possible since his stomach was void of contents to vomit, and a gag was covering his mouth.

The first time they tried to remove it after they'd arrived, Apo leaned forward in a rabid moment of anger and desperation, bit the guard's hand, and was backhanded for his trouble before the gag returned. It covered his anxious exclamation to be set free and the plea of release had fallen on deaf ears. It was tightened to make sure he couldn't harm anyone again. His face had been outwardly pleased and mentally depressed.

'Kinn where are you...?'

His head sagged forward, the strain on his neck from the heavy-headed feeling reflected in his heart. His calves were burning from the effort to stay on his toes to avoid the pull of his weight down on the sore joints in his arms. The guards that had bound him, sneered at him, degraded him as nothing but a passing fancy for Kinn, alluded to the fact that the mafia head would want nothing to do with him. He wouldn't pay a ransom, nor would he come to fetch him. According to them, Apo just wasn't worth it, and he needed to accept that as a fact. That he was currently being held because their boss deemed him as an obstacle that needed to be eliminated.

Slowly, painfully, and disposed of where no one would even remember his name. Especially Kinn. The door to his now prison locked, his eyes narrowed in anger, and it was mostly at himself. How'd he let this happen?

'Apo, you're an actor. Not a mafia man...but...you're dating one, so I guess this scenario was going to happen eventually. Damn me.'

As minutes were trickling into presumably hours, it was hard to tell time with no clock or watch to hand, Apo could feel that small nagging doubt that their words were true start to fester, that Kinn wouldn't be bothered with him. Kinn hadn't said anything to him and if Apo's love was foolishly one-sided, this was Kinn's chance to be rid of him permanently. A mistake that was easily placed in the other's discarded pile of cards. No longer of use when another ace could be drawn to complete the full house.

Kinn wasn't coming.

It felt forever ago when he had been snatched from the overturned vehicle, where he had left Kinn lying on the car's floor in an incoherent mess, unable to answer truthfully about how he felt about the man who took him on such a trip of uncertainty, danger, and confidence for himself. The question of whether he loved Kinn or not; Apo's response had been on the tip of his tongue and now, he regretted not giving the affirmation. Would he die without being able to tell the man he'd inexplicably fallen for, that he loved him? Apo was mad at himself for blurting that out to Korn. It should have been to Kinn and Kinn alone.

'A lost opportunity and now Kinn will never know. Way to go, Po.' He often spoke to or referred to himself in the first person. It helped clear his mind of who he was directing certain feelings, especially self-admonishing ones, specifically.

Apo attempted to flex his fingers to bring feeling back to them. Numbness was the enemy at the moment and hunger was its best friend. His stomach rumbled with the notable pangs for food that he had been denied. Strung up like a puppet by his wrists. Left to dangle almost painfully and the strain becoming evident in his shoulders when his weight decided to let gravity win and fall back on his heels, hiss at the muscles protesting, and up he went on his toes. A tiresome process. The soreness from his upper body that appeared after an hour of this stress position soon trickled to other parts of his body and Apo couldn't help but feel desolate.