A Soul's Caress: Breathe

A Summer Treat

Zayne half walked, half stumbled to his car. He fumbled for the keys in his pocket, his steps irregular and frantic. By the time he reached his probably hotter-than-hell-inside vehicle, his breaths were stuttering gasps. He stared at his reflection in the car's window with a wild look of fear. Pain radiated from his heart through his chest and he was rapidly losing patience with his own clumsiness.

When he finally pulled the keys out of his pocket, his shaking fingers dropped them before he could use them to escape. He slammed his fist down on the roof of his silver Civic, the sound drawing unwanted attention from people passing by. He stood there, struggling to hold himself together. His mind was shattering, his sanity fading under the rising madness of the killer.

"Mr. Matthews, are you alright?"

Zayne's head shot up. He turned and locked eyes with worried gold ones. Taking a step back, he quickly bent down and retrieved his keys.

"I...I'm fine. Just clumsy I guess."

Why was Detective Hale here? And worried about him? There were people dying in this city and this man was asking him if he was okay?

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm sure. Thanks for your concern, Detective Hale."

As soon as Zayne tried to slide the key into the door lock, Bodie snatched the key ring from him.

"What the hell?! Give it back!" Zayne snapped. "What are you doing?"

He tried again and again to retrieve his confiscated keys but the quick reflexes of the detective continuously denied him.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Matthews, but I can't allow you to drive home in your current condition," Bodie explained in his professional yet somewhat exaggerated cop voice. "It would go against everything I stand for."

Zayne huffed like an angry bull. "Just...just give them back. Please! I just want to go home."

Bodie shook his head and pressed his lips together.

"Nope," he answered, popping the last sound with playfulness.

Spinning on his heels, the young detective walked away, tucking Zayne's keys securely into the front pocket of his own pants.

Zayne's eyes widened. His earlier distress was now replaced by a newfound anger at the audacity of the detective. What an arrogant little bastard! How was he supposed to get home now? He detested riding public transportation. Actually, it was more of a fear. He couldn't risk getting a vision in front of so many people. It was the only reason he had a car and paid the extra money in rent every month for a parking space at his apartment complex.

For a moment, Zayne thought maybe Detective Hale was just joking with him. Any second now the young man would turn around and toss the keys back to him. But the intolerable detective just kept walking away. He didn't even look back. Not once.

He probably doesn't even know how to have fun, Zayne grumbled in his head.

With a long groan of frustration, Zayne jogged the few feet it took him to catch up to the detective.

"Where are you going with my keys? I want to go home. Now!" he whined.

Bodie stopped in his tracks and looked at the pouting piano player next to him. Oh, how he wanted to kiss that protruding bottom lip and bite the mole that hid shyly beneath it. He wanted nothing more than to make Zayne forget everything happening around him, to take him in his arms and tell him he would keep him safe. Yet, he was scared of these uncontrollable feelings he had for a complete stranger.