The Lost Angel [BxB]

icarus

It is better for thee to enter into life maimed, than having two hands to go into hell, into the fire that never shall be quenched.

[Mark 9:43]

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19: ICARUS

The two boys were sitting cross legged on the floor, the dead body laying between them. Julien had stopped bleeding now, and the first rays of the morning sunlight were beginning to soak through the windows. The blood on the floor had grown cold and sticky, as two hearts continued beating erratically in the mansion's foyer.

"Where did you get the hammer from?" Lalo whispered.

Rory glanced up at him with empty eyes. "I took it from the supply cupboard when I heard voices." His tone was emotionless and unreadable.

"Rory..." Lalo tried to speak, to make things better. But nothing would ever change what just happened.

"Don't." Rory interrupted coldly.

They sat in silence as the sun continued to rise and the body continued to fester. "We need to do something about this."

Rory clenched his jaw, "Why should I help you cover up a crime?"

"Because you were the one who committed it." Lalo answered, and when he received a glare in return, he held his hands up in defence, "I'm sorry, but it's true. If this ever came out, you would be the one locked up, not me. I'm trying to help you."

"He was only here because of you. What's stopping me from telling the police everything you just told me?"

"Nothing." You love me — that's what's stopping you. "But then we'd both be in prison. If we do it my way, we'll walk free."

"How are you so sure?" Rory responded. This time, he wasn't so successful hiding the emotion in his voice. He sounded frightened.

"Because I've done this before." Lalo admitted. "I killed someone in self defence. He was going to rape me, torture me, and then murder me. He'd done it to dozens of victims."

"You don't have to justify it." Rory was staring at him with those intense green eyes, "I don't care anymore, Lalo. Or Maxi. Whatever I'm meant to call you now."

He nodded in understanding. Every time Rory spoke to him with that sad, shaking voice and looked at him with those cold, dim eyes, Lalo broke just a little bit more. He had stolen something from the bright, bubbly, happy boy, and Rory would never get it back. "Afterwards, my boss sent in a crew to clean it up." He continued, "We need bleach, hot water, soap, mops, sponges, cloths." He listed off his fingers, "Then we gotta burn our clothes and both have a shower." He untangled his legs, stood up, and opened the front door. Holding onto the doorknob for support, he balanced on his tiptoes in order to get a better view of the towering gates that protected the property.

"What the hell are you doing?" Rory snapped, jumping to his feet.

"Thank fuck." Lalo murmured, "He hasn't got a car, or a bike, or anything. There's nothing tracing him here."

"Yeah, except the taxi driver's memory."

"How do you know he got a taxi?"

Rory rolled his eyes, "We're in the middle of fucking nowhere. How else would he have gotten here?"

Lalo sighed, "You're right."

"If there's an investigation—"

"There's not gonna be an investigation."