Breaking the Rules [BoyxBoy]

17 | gινє уσυr нєαrт α вrєαк

You've been hurt before
I can see it in your eyes
You try to smile it away
Some things you can't disguise

Chapter 17 ~ Give Your Heart a Break

Trey Carter

"So, you're one of those fags?" was the first thing the boy that Owen had so gracefully bestowed upon me said to me. My gaze dropped to his limp, blood-stained body sprawled across the floor, silently wondering how someone could be so verbally aggressive when they were in such a position. I vividly remembered the days when I used that word so loosely to describe my best friend, but now it made me cringe.

"Who are you?" I asked, since it was more than clear that Owen didn't plan on answering any of my questions.

The boy, whose eyes were the lightest shade of brown that almost looked orange in the sunlight, propped himself up against the nearest wall, wincing as he did so. "Doesn't matter," he spat under his breath. "Lucifer is gonna kill your little lover and he's gonna kill you, too. It's only a matter of time."

I lifted an eyebrow. I had heard Owen mention Lucifer before, and from
what he told me, he wasn't one to mess with. "Lucifer? Are you one of his workers?" The boy lifted his head to look at me, rolled his eyes, then slumped forward. He refused to respond; he only continued to stare at seemingly nothing.

I had dumbly agreed to Owen's request to "take care of" this random boy. I would've said no, but I reevaluated my response when I thought about the relationship that Owen and I shared. It was fucked up, no doubt, but it all seemed worthwhile now that we had sex, proving that Owen was capable of feeling something for me.

Damn, I sure knew how to pick 'em.

"Who are you," I tried again, only this time, I knelt to the marble floor and narrowed my eyes at him, attempting to look threatening. "And why the fuck are you bleeding?"

The boy's eyes fell to his t-shirt, which was only a matter of rags at this point. He blinked in awe, almost like he had just acknowledged his injuries. Regardless, he laughed, and continued to evade my questions. "Damn bastard," he chuckled, "Owen's a good fighter. It's because Lucifer taught him everything he knows, ya know?"

I studied him thoroughly as I recalled the moment when Owen said he was desperately looking for someone who had betrayed him and that when he found said traitor, he'd tear him apart, limb by limp. "So you do work for Lucifer, huh," I deduced.

He rolled his eyes. "Where'd Owen find you from, anyway? What, you just his cash cow or something?"

Sighing, I slowly rose to my feet and placed my hands on hips, internally contemplating just how I was supposed to look after this boy. Before I could give it much thought, though, the doorbell chimed throughout the house, bouncing off every wall and creating a seemingly never ending echo. I snuck a quick glance at the window panels alongside the front door, and my heart nearly skipped a beat at the sight of Scar Patterson with the beauty of the illuminating horizon behind him.

"Shit." My gaze fell onto the boy beside my feet, again. Having a bloody, half-conscious, and possibly-stoned man in the middle of my house wouldn't give a very good impression and would only bring suspicion, so I took it upon myself to bring the boy to his feet and forcefully drag him upstairs to my bedroom. He slumped onto my insanely white carpet the moment I released him, being sure to leave an impressionable red stain.