11:11 (New Version)

-2-

New York City
-Collin Rivera-

His fingers lightly ghosted over the beautiful marks decorating his skin; present were intricate patterns carved in the colors of black, purple, and blue. His eye itself was swollen, angry and red, not to mention the damages to his cheek. The flesh felt tender beneath even the softest of touches.

As he stood there for a moment, his mind rakes over the events of the previous night.

The party had run smoothly, he had to admit, with all the guests having left satisfied with at the end of the event. The food has been wonderful, the music quite perfect, and the guests who had attended made it know that they'd had their own fun. But that was the surface view; below, there was so much more than could have gone differently and Collin could only wish he'd thought his actions through.

Midas has become frustrated after being called out in front of his closest friends. He hated that Romero had the nerve to drag me away from where Collin supposed to be, and he didn't like when the young man begged him to take a seat next to his friend at the table.

Midas didn't like being challenged.

So he challenged Collin instead, and the thermometer gauging his temper exploded.

Shaking his head, he placed his focus back on the task at hand. He let out a hiss and winced as he pressed his finger down on the injury a little too firmly. Collin felt the wound throbbing beneath his fingertip and it seems to grow considerably warmer as the seconds passed on. Collin wished that he could ignore the injury and pretend it never happened, but the angry flesh stuck out like a sore thumb. Oh how he wished he could be more careful; at least then, accidents like these would be less likely to occur.

Sighing, he looked away from the mirror and switched off the bathroom light before making his way back to their empty bedroom.

But the emptiness was far from peaceful. The words of yesterday still echoed in the chambers of their bedroom.

*"Never, **ever** humiliate me like that again, Collin, do you hear me?"* He roared.

I'm sorry, he said.

*"These damned banquets are not some casual get together where you can behave like a common citizen!"

I'm sorry.

'I taught you the manners necessary to thrive during such events in the first place!"*

*Midas marched up to the boy and grabbed him tightly by the wrists, "All you had to do was show some goddamn respect!"**

*"I'm sorry..." Collin choked, "I was only doing-"*

*"Sorry isn't fucking good enough," Midas snapped as he left the boy on the floor as he slammed the door in his wake.*

"I'm sorry."

His words were cold and concise as he studied his boyfriend's reflection in the mirror. His hand was on Collin's shoulder, trying to ease the tension he felt in his muscles.

"You know that I hate when I do that Collin. I don't like seeing you like this..."

"Me too," the boy mumbled. He hated seeing "himself" like this. He hated constantly feeling sorry, for constantly apologizing, even though Collin had absolutely nothing to be sorry about. Nothing that had happened the previous evening was his faul, only Midas' because his temper was the one to soil it all.

The dancing and the drinking, laughing and sharing jokes at the party was only a facade for the rest of the world, because the moment they went home and the couple was left all alone...it was likely that Collin fracture a bone.