Floating Face Down (boyxboy)

Chapter Seventeen

[A/N] I'm posting another chapter ! I have a word count requirement I have to meet and the only other option is finishing the Her Brother My Master epilogue but I wasn't in the right mood for it just now. 

So here we go.... Arran's POV....

[Arran's POV] 

The lock was sliding, I had to pull the door toward me by the handle while turning the key for it to open. The air was cold and damp, there were black spots on the ceiling in the entrance below the unused bathroom on the second floor. Everything was empty, there was no point in keeping much here other than a bed and some basic supplies.

There was no padding down the hall, no electric eyes staring at me from inside the kitchen, feigning disinterest, taking the opportunity to rub the entire length of her across my legs while I was on my laptop, pretending not to notice her.

I'd had my friends stay here before, while I was busy out of the house, she played hard to get but she waited for me. They videoed it, her waiting at the door, sitting there, black tail curling behind her and then disappearing into the rest of her fur. And then when I arrived, before I could open the door carefully slinked away back into the kitchen and pretended not to notice me when I entered.

She was an odd cat, but no one got close to her without finding out how thick their skin was in millimetres.

She would never leave the house, not for long, she'd even scratch me when I tried, and it was just as well, she was the only reason I had the house in the first place.

I'd kill whoever took her. 

I climbed the steps and entered the living room, the same one I'd had that kid in, passed out and chained to the radiator.

I tossed my jacket onto the sofa and dropped the heavy bag onto the floor as I entered the room, part of me still expecting her to turn a corner, huff at me and disappear again.

Instead there was a loud scuffling and I massaged my temples in annoyance.

Elliot.

Sort of small and quiet. He looked frightened all the time, so it made very little sense that he stood so still, calm but tense, wary but alert, watching nearly unblinking, with eyes that practically dilated when he looked at me.

I exhaled as I sat down for a minute, there was a pulsing in my head.

When I touched him it felt odd, I wanted to squeeze and wait to see a reaction, feel that buzzing in my finger tips.

When he looked at me I felt powerful.

It was ridiculous, and coming from a lack of sleep, just like that was. 

I glared at the bathroom as there was another scuffle inside, got up and grabbed the bag and walked over, opening the door to see the dog inside jump and struggle to climb inside the tub and growl.

It was almost cute, the kind of growl that came from a dog that barely knew how to growl. I could probably make a more threatening noise. It looked petrified.

I wouldn't have taken the time to hunt down the damned thing if I hadn't thought that kid had my cat.

But he didn't have a single scratch on him.

So I'd rescued that idiot dog for no reason. I'd had to wash him Molly had kept him in such a state with the others. If I hadn't I wouldn't have known if this was really the same white dog that the boy had been dutifully traipsing the streets looking for, hanging up a poster on every face and wall near him, leaving a trail behind him.