He Bought Me

32.

"So, how do you do it?" he laughs, wiping his lips.

"Too much sauce" I point out, laughing lighter than him. "And I don't know, I've been doing it for so long, even before I moved to America, my mother forced me to do the accent"

"Accent? You and Will are the ones with accents. America, must I remind you" Lincoln winks. I lead the way downstairs to the kitchen (and I'm proud of myself) then Lincoln made some sandwiches.

"Have you spoken to her?" he asks in a low voice, almost a whisper. "Mavis?"

"No" I smile at him, trying to assure him I'm fine. I know he doesn't want to make things worst. "DO you think I should?"

"Hey, I don't know the history...want another one?" he gestures to my plate with his bottle of water.

"No, thanks, I don't want to overeat"

"You got color-here, let me get that" he grabs my plate as he rises from his seat. I thank him with another smile. As he turns to the sink, I peer out the window. A slice of the moon has replaced the sun in the sky.

"Hey, Linc?" I call still peering out the window.

"Yeah, Frank" there's a little humor in his voice.

"I was wondering, about your pl-"

"Well, lookie here" an all-too-familiar voice slurs behind me. Lincoln and I spin around to face a drunk Boris, waving back and forth where he stands. Will is next to him, as drunk as my beast, a bottle placed in both they're hands. "Franky, you're up!" Boris cheers.

"Is that a sandwich?" Will stumbles his way over to Lincoln and snatches what's left of his sandwich.

"Franky" Boris softens, "I'm sorry, I-I-I...let's get you a tiger"

I can smell him from here. I stood from my seat and take one step before Lincoln spoke. "Franky" he whispers. Oh no.

Boris's eyes darken. "The fuck did you just call her?" he steps towards him but I move in his way. He can't do this to me, not now. I almost gag at his stench. The bag under his eyes makes my bottom lip quiver. He looks exhausted.

"Whoa, mate, watch it" Will chuckles.

"You piece of shit, did you fucking touch her?!" Boris tries to move around me but I grab his cold body. Was he outside without a coat? He can't be fucking serious, he's only wearing a shirt and jeans. "MOVE!" he barks grabbing me by my arm. He was ready to push me away but he stops when he looks down and peers into my eyes.

"Franky?" he whispers like I just appeared from nowhere. "Fuck...come with me" he gently tugs me back.

"Hey!" Lincoln shouts. Is he trying to die? There's movement behind me but I can't leave his gaze.

But he can, Boris looks up, eyes darkening in a split second. "FUCK YOU!" he throws his bottle at him. I jump back at the shattering noise. Lucky for Lincoln, it only missed him by an inch or so. Boris continues to yell. "YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD! UNDERSTAND ME?! DEAD!"

"Boris stop!" I move in front of him again. "I'll go...I'll go just...don't" I snatch his finger and lean into his cold body. I can feel Lincoln's painful eyes on me. Boris nods, threatening eyes still on Lincoln.

I anchor his arm on my shoulders then wrap my arm around his waist. His monster-like stage dissolves back into his drunken stage as we stumble down the hall. He slurs how much he misses me and sorry he is. I want to belive him, I truly do.

We approach my door. I place my hand on the doorknob, about to turn it but suddenly Boris carefully presses me into the wall, his hands planted on the wall, at my sides, trapping me. He bents his knees so our eyes are leveled. I can smell every drink he had in his breathe. "Boris, get off" I sound brave. Who knew?