All My Loving (teen!lock Johnlock/Mystrade)

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter 19

Dimitri's POV

I watched as Charlie slept, his chin resting on his chest. I adjusted myself on the hard plastic chair and sighed. It was hard work keeping him locked up there, in so much pain he was barely able to speak. I tied my hair back in a ponytail and scratched at my beard. This whole 'captor' thing was really getting to me. I had killed a girl for Charlie. 

I looked him over as he slept. His hair was messy and matted with blood. His face was bruised, and his lips swollen. I could see he was in a lot of pain, and of course I knew he wouldn't be able to handle too much more pain. That's why I killed her. It was her or Charlie, and besides, I didn't like the way she had spoken to him. Worthless? Charlie was anything but. He was invaluble, and honestly, he was the most lovable guy I had ever met. He was gorgeous and brave and so incredibly strong. I knew he had a tough time with love. I wished I could change all that. But he hated me. I could see it in his eyes whenever he looked at me. He saw me as a coward, too scared to let him go. I would if I could, but there was a plan I had to follow. 

Jim had given me orders before he left. It seemed he was enjoying his little game too much to let Sherlock find Charlie. He liked it how I killed that Janine girl, and wanted to see more of it. I knew he would eventually want me to kill Charlie, and I knew I wouldn't be able to do it. I wasn't allowed to feel. Jim had told me it was a terrible idea. I couldn't believe what I had gotten myself into; we were still teenagers for goodness sake. I was a teenager who had killed a girl. How fucking lovely. 

I sighed and stood up, leaving the room. The rest of the building was a large bleak warehouse, and up against one of the walls was my guitar. I usually brought it in when Charlie slept, so I could play without worrying about being judged. I went over to my guitar, my heels clicking on the ground as my boots hit the ground. My white shirt was dirty, as were my blue jeans. I grabbed my guitar before going back into the white room. I closed and locked the door, sitting back at my seat. 

I began strumming my guitar to the tune of Wicked Game by Chris Isaak. 

"The world was on fire, 

And, no one could save me but you.

It's strange what desire will make foolish people do.

And I never dreamed that I'd need somebody like you.

And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you.

"No, I don't want to fall in love

[This world is only gonna break your heart]

No, I don't want to fall in love

[This world is only gonna break your heart]

With you

[This world is only gonna break your heart]

"What a wicked game to play;

To make me feel this way.

What a wicked thing to do; 

To let me dream of you.

What a wicked thing to say; 

You never felt this way.

What a wicked thing to do; 

To make me dream of you.

"And I don't want to fall in love

[This world is only gonna break your heart]

And I don't want to fall in love

[This world is only gonna break your heart]

With you

"The world was on fire,

No one could save me but you.

It's strange what desire will make foolish people do.

And I never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you.

And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you.

"No, I wanna fall in love

[This world is only gonna break your heart

No, I wanna fall in love

[This world is only gonna break your heart]

With you

[This world is only gonna break your heart]

"No I

[This world is only gonna break your heart]

[This world is only gonna break your heart]

"Nobody loves...no one."

I smiled softly at Charlie as I finished playing, seeing the small smile appear on his face as he slept. That was the first smile I had ever seen him smile, and it was sweet and soft, just like the rest of his face as he slept. He was so heartbreakingly innocent looking, and I just wanted to kiss his soft lips, and wipe away those tears that fell when he thought I wasn't looking. I wanted to cut the ropes that bound him to the chair, and let him go, but again, I couldn't, and it killed me to see him that way. 

Wicked Game was one of my favourite songs, and I found I could relate to it more than any other song since I met Charlie. I didn't want to fall in love with my captive. I didn't want to dream about him the way I did, and this world was breaking my heart. I wanted Charlie, I needed Charlie, and here I was, holding him captive for a psychopath. Charlie didn't even know what he did to me, for me. He kept me reasonably sane. Well, as sane as you could be when you're keeping people hostage and killing people for them, beating the person who you feel strong romantic feelings for. Like that kind of sane. 

I chuckled as I thought about it. It was so messed up. It was all so messed up. He'd never date me. Never. I wish I could stop wasting my time with this wicked game that Charlie didn't even know he was part of. 

I sighed and got up again, deciding to obey Jim's orders. He had told me to go train, because I would need it. I didn't like to hear that. I didn't like the way Jim smiled at me, and put his hand on my shoulder. I didn't like the way he winked at me; the way it sent chills down my spine. I didn't like Jim, full stop. I only hoped I would be able to keep Charlie safe, if even for a little while longer. 

I went out a hidden door, and came into the gym area that Jim had had set up for me. There was a treadmill, cross-trainer, weights, and other things to help build up muscle. I went over to the treadmill, switched it onto full, and began to sprint on it, allowing the feeling in my legs to give way. Eventually I shut it off, and went over to the weights, beginning to lift them high in the air, before slowly bringing them back to my chest, before repeating the process. "Acest lucru este plictisitor," I muttered.

When I was beyond exhausted, I went back into the other room, rubbing the sweat from my forehead with the hem of my shirt.  When I entered, Charlie was awake again, his quizzical blue eyes watching me as I sat back down. "What?" I asked. 

"Your accent comes out more when you're angry, you know that?" At least he was able to speak.

I shrugged. "Never noticed."

He hummed thoughtfully, before he looked away. "I had the weirdest dream," he commented while focusing on the floor. "You were singing... Wicked Game, by Chris Isaak. You know that one? Yeah, well you were singing that, and you sounded... Really good, actually."

"I'm glad you've enjoyed my singing then."

"Hmm. Your accent was practically gone when you sung, though. It was quite fascinating. I don't know, it was kind of eerily nice. Like a cowboy."

I laughed softly. "I sung like a cowboy?"

Charlie nodded weakly, before falling asleep again. I continued to smile, as his face relaxed again, and his breathing became deep again. I sung like a cowboy. For some reason, that touched me more than anything else I had ever heard.