Dead Maiden's Rose [boyXboy]

Chapter V

Chapter V

Nathanial

This little brass pendant is the last thing I own that can even marginally be counted as having worth.  I certainly have no worth, and even those boots of mine, that once jingled as I walked, are gone. But the pendant is still here, nothing more than an old coin with a rough cross scratched into the back, marring the soft metal. Though I guess it's not so much of a mar considering it's God's sigil carved in there.

I sigh, dangling it over the table, eyes blurring tiredly as I watch it sway with the rock of the ship. How many times have I done this? How many times have I sat somewhere, tired, sad, and alone, and watched this pendant swing, daydreaming hopefully, as though it might suddenly stop, take on the pull of a compass, and draw me home?

Too many times.

The door creaks open and I startle, dropping the coin, its chain rattling loudly on the table.

"Heavens, Nathaniel!" James exclaims, dropping the sudden hold he has taken upon his sword. It would appear I was not the only one to get a fright. "What the hell are you doing in my cabin?"

I scowl.

"Nowhere private on the open sea, James."

"Yes," he murmurs, somewhat hostile, "not even the Captain's cabin."

I open my mouth to reply, but he's already friendly again, ignoring the fact that I've propped myself far too familiarly in his grossly ornate desk chair.

"And why, pray," he begins to ask, throwing himself in the rickety seat across the table from me, "are you searching for privacy?"

I glare.

"That's none of your business."

The grin slowly spreads across his features as he leans back in the chair, pulling his broad shoulders backwards, resting an elbow behind him, his other hand cast casually over his crotch. It's such a careless pose, an easy pose. It's such a dominant pose... a man's pose.

I turn my head to the side, studying the swordfish on his wall with bitter scrutiny. Not James. Don't think about James that way.

"It's my business if you're taking care of... business... in my cabin."

I can feel him taste the innuendo, feel him enjoy it. It's about as witty as James Kelley ever gets.

"I wasn't taking care of 'business'." I snap, so angry that I whip my head back toward him.

I realise my mistake instantly, as soon as I take in the smug curl of his lips. He was goading me, nothing more, and I rose perfectly to the bait.

"Of course not," he concedes, shrugging. "God's gift to mothers, you are. Bloody virginal."

I scowl.

"So..." he prompts, when the silence gets awkward. "I want to know what you were doing. Because, you know, I could have accepted you punishing your tiny manhood over the smell of my bed sheets. Something tells me this is a little... dirtier."

I hate how much he's enjoying it. I hate how easy his life is. I hate that he can sit here and smile and make his jokes while I should be moping, thinking about the life that was stolen from me. I have known James Kelley for longer than I can remember and he's never seen my pendant. That's not about to change.

I slip my hand into my pocket, searching for its subtle comfort. The edge always slots so perfectly into the joints of my fingers, pushing the scratchy cross into the calloused skin that lies palm-side of my knuckles. It's a familiar hold, one I've been taking subconsciously since I was seven years old. I simply expect to find the coin sitting there, in my pocket, so much so that when my fingers close on empty material, my heart lurches into my throat.