DARLING, YOU'RE HIGH AGAIN.

CH 35: Lewis' Exhume

Felix is troubled and worried about Lewis as he lay nude in this bed, he fear about his friend's sake, he could only pray that Lewis is alright and well, if it that were to be the contrary, he might lose his mind. He did not fail to capture the sounds of pencil against paper, and the deleterious glances of the man that conveys signs of an imminent tragedy or it's just something Felix creates inside his head as he grew paranoid and frantic the longer he stay in this place, perhaps it's both. He had calmed down minutes ago, he stopped crying and he lay quiet as if dead. He made him mad again, and what Felix reap of it was scourges that he never thought of receiving.

That wrench beating, grievous and heavy hands who left forlorn stains of abusive markings, it felt something different to Felix, somehow it felt like an adorning of affection. He hit me and it felt like a kiss, albeit it's vile and pain it felt darling, he calls me that after all.

"Four years ago, 20th of march, do you remember?"

Felix was taken aback with the sudden question. He ponder carefully about the specified date, he's certainly good at remembering things, even the filthy words that his own father had said to him from years ago he could recite it perfectly without missing a single word but surprising enough, nothing comes to mind. As if it was erased from his brain, there is nothingness.

". . . No." His voice was low enough for you to call it a whisper, and somewhat reserved. Face solemn with no visualize emotion.

Sam scoffs almost scornfully, as if ridiculing himself for asking such an idiotic question with an apparent answer.

"Of course, you don't remember."

"What do you even know in that stupid little head of yours." He added, his pupils constricting that Felix could see clearly with his own, darkening like clouds in the midst of storm. He deliberately draw lines on his sketch book, it's pages crumbling slowly as he gripped on it with force coming from his unknown anger, the pencil in his palm digging red in his flesh.

The man in bed didn't say anything.

Felix then jolted in utter shock when Sam abruptly and outrageously threw the sketch book and pencil onto the floor like a piece of junk he saw as useless. Having no second thought of kicking the chair against the wall with it making a harsh sound in the whole room, it's leg scratching an ugly crazed part of the wall paper. He was making a ruckus for a nameless reason and it scared the shit out of the other man.

“Stay in this fucking room and don't ever thought of fucking running away. If you do, you would be damned.” Those were his last pithy words before he exits the room, leaving Felix dumbfounded, he slammed the door hard enough that the whole quarter shake as if there was an occurrent of temblor.

What. . . What the fuck did just happened.

–

Felix did not sleep, he refused to. He stayed inside the room without moving a single muscle. He lost sight of time but he's certain that it's already morning, he saw the noticeable blue colour that washed over the sky, the little few stars blinking weakly as if it's light were dying.

Felix felt safe somehow, he just heard sounds of an howling motorbike and the gates opening, he must've left to go somewhere that Felix did not know about. Felix decided to rise from the bed, his whole body aching upon doing so, now that he's gone he could finally do the things that he wanted to. Felix is naked all over, not a single cloth covering his skin, he's bare and it's fucking freezing. He jogged towards the crimson haired man's closet hoping to find something at least wearable, and well, he was not disappointed. There was a ton of variety in this man's closet, mostly designer brands with it's pricey tags still hanging, so many options that he could choose however Felix pick up the plain black tee and black shorts that lies miserably on the bottom of the closet, the man didn't even bother searching for an undergarment, fuck that.