Unsolved Crimes Against Humanity

Part 17

"How much longer, Schlatt?" William asked, impatiently waiting as the ram worked on something. Wilbur had been keeping his eyes shut, as he had been told by the ram specifically that he should. Schlatt, behind Wilbur's back, was mixing a few things into a glass cup, eventually walking in front of William and held the cup up to the brit's lips, a straw caressing the two blushing pilgrims.

"Drink up." Schlatt muttered, a gentle smirk painted strangely across his face. "And keep your eyes shut."

William's eyebrows crunched in confusion, but he took a sip of the ram's concoction. He didn't taste anything as usual, but there was a light sting on his tongue that made him jump a bit, taking his hands up to his face to cover his mouth and nose. "Fucking christ, what is that-" His voice muffled from the blockage of his hands, and Schlatt cackled at the brit's reaction.

"Keep drinking it!" The ram laughed, letting William hold the cup.

Wilbur opened his eyes and took the cup, his face all scrunched up, almost disgusted or in pain, though it was a bit difficult to tell at this point. But, Wilbur took another drink, keeping his eyes on the laughing ram. From what he saw, Schlatt looked happy, or maybe it was just the way he made him laugh. None of it made sense, but the drink only made things go blurry.

Strange. My vision's going shit. Wilbur thought, setting the drink down on the table beside him. He stuck out a hand to grab onto Schlatt's shoulder, his legs almost failing to keep him stable and standing. He leaned in and coughed, saliva spilling out of the corners of his mouth and onto the floor. Schlatt stopped laughing and looked directly at William, growing a bit worried.

"Woah, woah, man, what's going on? What's with the- HEY, QUIT FUCKING DROOLING ON MY HOOVES, THAT'S FUCKING DISGUSTING." He yelled, moving his hands up to push the seemingly drunk brit, but noticed something extremely off and just decided to let the man lean on him, growling angrily.

Wilbur dropped to his knees and pushed the top of his head against the ram's stomach, shaking his head. He reached up and gripped onto Schlatt's sleeves, trying to grab onto the ram's hands and pull himself up. "What did you.. put.. in that drink...?" He asked, wiping the drool from his chin onto his shoulder.

Schlatt pulled William up with a struggling groan, before he put the brit's arm around his neck to support him. "Just a mixture of alcohol and shit. I don't fuckin' know." He grumbled. "Why, you allergic to somethin'?"

William shook his head again. "No.. I'm not allergic.. I just.. have a hard time.. with a lot of different.. tastes..? No, it's uh.. I think it's a specific ingredient, some.. Something that triggers pheromones?? What did you really put, Schlatt.." He slurred a bit, gently swatting the ram's cheek with his free hand."

"Pheromones? Fuck nah, that ain't right. I did nothing to mess with that shit." The ram responded, swatting the brit's hand away with a small grunt. "Don't fuckin' hit me, you little british meatstick."

Wilbur chuckled quietly at the ram's insult, shaking his head. However, he looked into the ram's eyes and smiled a bit, his own eyes filling with a deep feeling of somewhat patronizing happiness, almost as though he was masking himself in a way that would be seen as a truthful feeling. He was lying about his feelings, and they both knew, but Schlatt never mentioned a thing about it.

The ram grumbled and pulled Wilbur into an uncomfortable hug, something they both didn't want or like. Schlatt grabbed the brit's head and pulled it down onto his shoulder, "Close your eyes again, and breathe slowly. You need rest." He said, in a monotone, unhappy voice. He was lying about his feelings as well, but every negative feeling was real. He hated everything, and hated everyone just the same. It was almost uncanny, the fact that he went straight from feeling comfortable with being weird with Wilbur, to filled with hatred and not wanting to talk.

Maybe Wilbur was right. He thought to himself, sighing angrily as the brit closed his eyes. Schlatt stepped into the bedroom with Wilbur in his arms, laying on the bed. He let the brit lay over his body, but it didn't feel right again. All the things they did together that had something to do with physical touch never felt right. It wasn't right. This whole 'clingy' thing wasn't good for either of them. They're supposed to be colleagues, or coworkers, but they're being much more than they should be. "It's not right, this is bullshit." The ram grumbled under his breath, letting out a heavy sigh.

Denial, again.