"Semi-Short Stories" [ Story Collection ]

Father Issues [] 4/11 []

"You really haven't explored this place?" Draco is following Michael. He doesn't want to let him out of his sight, thought he doesn't believe he'll try to run off. They've looked into a few more rooms, though none were very promising.

"I was afraid of what I might find."

"Yet, you're here. And it's not the first time."

"It's...hard to explain."

Draco stops, spins around, and looks him up and down. "Is it?"

"Well, you're here too, aren't you? Why?" Michael is grasping for an explanation. He knows, it's just difficult to put into words. No. That's not it. It just doesn't sound very believable.

"To fuck up his shit."

"But you felt it, didn't you? You want to be here. It's like a magnet."

Draco doesn't acknowledge this. He opens a door and steps into the room beyond. It's a darker shade of red than the rest - red and black. Everywhere. It smells of vanilla and death. "I think this is it."

"It's stronger here."

"What?"

"What?"

"Nothing." Draco is taking in the room. He isn't sure where to start. The game hanging on the walls and ceiling? The many, many knives displayed to the right of the fireplace? Draco steps into the middle of the room, which happens to be the center if a pentagram that is definitely drawn in blood. Directly in front of him, right outside the circle, is a little table. Atop the little table is a Ouija board. With Michael close behind him (for protection? Is he looking around nervously?), he lifts the board and snaps it over his knee. The pieces are tossed into the fireplace.

"Was that necessary?"

Michael's hand is at his hip (a gun?), and he keeps Draco behind him. Draco has frozen. Gone cold. He can hear his heart beating.

"That's something I've been wanting to ask you for years."

"Draco, my boy. I was wondering when you would show up. I knew it was bound to happen, since Matthew was here a few hours ago." Colors are distorted by the light once more, and it looks as if Anthony's skin is red. He looks like the devil. He has been sitting in an armchair off to the side. Waiting.

"You know him, Draco?" Michael is ready to stop the boy from rushing at Anthony. He can tell how tense he is - the air is thick with the feeling.

"He was my dad at one point. Never again, though." A realization dawns on him, and he takes a step forward. "Are you fucking Samson, too?? Is everyone fucking him?"

Anthony smiles. It makes Draco feel sick. "I'm his favorite."

"God...for fuck's sake! Anyone else I know hidden in one of these bedrooms!?"

Anthony shrugs a shoulder. "It's always possible."

Draco has kicked over the table, causing something to shatter. The planchette was made of glass. He's moved to the fireplace, where he begins knocking things off of the mantle.

"Boy, he won't be happy about that."

"Who? Samson fucking Moore? I don't care. It's why I'm here." Draco, nearly-blonde now, turns to look at Anthony, who's taken tight hold of his arm. Michael has grabbed Anthony's arm in response, but says nothing.

"Yes, but no. Samson will be furious, but he isn't who you need to worry about." He tilts his head. He really does look devilish. "Anyway...that's not why you're here. You want to be here."

"...Yeah. To-"

"No, no. Not to do anything. You just want to be here. Of course this room is at the very end of the hall. Doesn't it just make sense? You didn't need to check every room on the way here...you just don't want to leave yet. And you don't have to worry, your dear Matthew doesn't mind being here either. So there's no need to feel bad."

It makes sense. Hearing this, it makes sense to Draco. He doesn't like this fact. "What the hell are you going on about?"

"There's no use to explain it any further than I already have." He releases his arm, shrugs away from Michael, and begins collecting the pieces of the shattered planchette. Draco watches. The laughter downstairs is fainter now. (Is that Matthew?)

"Right. Well, I ought to be going now." He glances to the door. "Matthew and I have somewhere to be."

"But you've barely done any damage! Why not make some holes in the wall with that gun of yours, hm?"

Without looking, Draco adjusts his shirt so that the gun is completely hidden. But he doesn't deny that it's there. "I'd rather not. I'd like to leave."

"Stay. Just a little longer." Anthony is smiling to him. Michael steps between them, his back to Draco and his hand still prepared to grab for his gun. "Would you like a drink?"

"A drink?"

Silently, Anthony reaches above the mantle to open a cabinet. A wine cabinet. "Stay a while."

He knows he shouldn't. He knows he should leave.

But he stays.