CONTAINS CONTENT:
Mild action violence, brief strong language, and sexual themes.
{{Unedited}}
Vincent glared at all of them, “Once more. This time, you plant the spike.” He started to walk, but paused, “Oh, and I’m calling a team captain.” They all looked at him with expectant, curious, eyes. “It’s Austin.” Vincent jogged behind the boxes and columns where Marielle had defused, picked up the box, fiddled with it for a moment as he walked back, and after closing it all up again, he handed it to him. “You’re responsible for this.” Austin looked down at the box like it was something that would bite him for a second, then he flipped it over a few times in his hands and nodded, taking this responsibility on.
Sabine’s eyes were dark with a rage that was intensifying with every passing moment. “I’m not doing this anymore,” she snarled, John stood behind her, supportively.
Vincent shrugged. “Then leave.” He nodded once. “Jeopardize your team-mates by unplugging and walking out. You obviously have better things to do with your time. We won’t be able to replace you right now, and the game will be unfair, but hey,-” he lifted his hands, “-at least you’ll have the pleasure of giving us all your backside as you move out of here.”
“Enough!” She cried lifting her hand and shooting poison at him. It soared through the air, landing with a splat, but he had snapped long before her hand fully raised, and he was gone again. When he appeared on his teleporter, he had already drawn his game pistol, and shot her. The red light blinked on, signaling that she was dead. He rebolstered it. “Your anger… doesn’t help you, your team-mates, or the situation.”
Trying her best to steel herself, Sabine pushed past them all, ripping her ear piece out and rushing through the doors. She went to a corner in one of the locker rooms where no one could see her. She slammed her fist into the lockers once, twice, a third time, and then turned and sank slowly to the floor. There she drew her knees up to her chest, and put her face into her hands. Alone, and with nothing but her thoughts, she tried to cry, but no tears would come.
To her surprise, a shadow appeared next to her, and grew taller and bigger until it was the shape of a man… in a hood, and John materialized, turned around from teleportation.
“How’d you know where I was going?” Sabine growled, putting her forehead to her right knee.
“I knew that you would pick the best spot to be alone,” he replied, then he sat down by her. “But I actually teleported three times before I found you,” he admitted. She smirked; he was so cute. “I am glad that I did because I can’t teleport anymore,” he panted.
He slid down the lockers beside her, and slowly removed his hood and mask so she could see his face. She looked at him adoringly… this monster…this friend… and the previous night had added a new name for him… lover. She had Vincent to thank for that, and she also hated him right now. Confusion and self-doubt set in deep, causing her insides to twist. Everything felt wrong. John lifted his left hand and used it to caress her face; she leaned into his palm, and closed her eyes. Her only crying point now seemed to be Peter, and she hated that every time she looked at Austin, she was going to have that connection, now. “I accept you as you are, Sabine. I understand that you don’t need someone to stand up for you,” he said, explaining his lack of pushing back against Vincent in the arena. “He’s also my friend,” he added with a nod. “Without him, I wouldn’t have you.”
“You would have me, John,” she murmured, looking down.
He pulled her face back up to look at him by her chin, the little bits of sand shifting around her face. “Not like last night.”
She smirked, salaciously at him. “That was… interesting.”
“Interesting is a word,” he said, and she knew immediately that he was mimicking her from earlier and broke into a smile, “I’m not sure that it’s the word that I would use, but it is a word.” Both chuckled silently. “I know you don’t need my company, but I thought I’d ask if you would like it,” he whispered as best he could. Even whispering for him sounded distant and detached.
She nodded, “I would,” she replied taking his hand, their fingers intertwining. She lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed it, gently. She could feel his skin shift, and the dust move around it.
“Should we return and really take this on?” he asked.
She sighed, waited a beat, and nodded. “I’m ready.”
They re-entered the arena, heads high, masks replaced.
Vincent had called a time out, so everyone was taking a drink of water or had left for the bathroom.
Vincent was drinking another cup of coffee, and Marielle brought him a bottle of water, handing it to him. “Coffee is fine, love, but you need water,” she said, sweetly, knowing how hard he’d been working, how tired he was, and how little he’d eaten or drank.
He smiled at her, lovingly and took the bottle. “You always took care of me.” He quaffed it, taking it all in only a minute or two.
Austin was wandering the back of the room, familiarizing himself with it; every nook and cranny, every corner and hiding spot. Vincent gestured at him as Austin jogged across an open space, rifle across his back, his hair bouncing. “He’s smart.”
She threw him a glance, but looked away. “He’s stupid,” she corrected, taking a sip from her own water bottle.
“No, my love,” Vincent said with the ghost of an adoring smile. He wiped some sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist. “He’s a man.”
“Oh, please.” Marielle rolled her eyes. “Are you telling me that he can’t help himself or some crap?” She chuckled. She couldn’t help but stealing a glance at Austin again. He was so tired. She could see it in his body, the way he moved and operated; but he was still ready for action regardless of what he was thinking or feeling; a well-trained man.
Vincent shook his head, “Not at all. He can help himself. But he’s on his own transformative journey, and he’s only just begun,” he explained.
Marielle cocked her head, and drew her eyebrows together inquisitively. “I don’t really understand.”
“He has a few ways that he can go… one of them is leader.”
She swallowed and eyed Vincent inquisitively. “And the other?”
He smiled at her with teeth, and pinched her chin. “Don’t worry about it,” he whispered.
She stretched up, trying to reach his mouth for a kiss. “So, you’ll deal with me, huh?” she asked in a flirty tone.
He smiled and turned to see Sabine and John enter before he could reply.
Han entered back from the bathroom, trailing in just behind Sabine and John. Everyone regrouped. “I’m hungry,” Han was saying. “Anyone hungry?” She looked to the balcony, “Lunch on Liam after this…”
Liam shook his head at her, and chuckled. “Very funny.”
Vincent asked if everyone was ready again. Each nodded, tired, weary, angry, a little confused, but ready. Tala and Liam were watching from the balcony. They’d been talking to one another during the entire break.
“Are we ready to do this for the last time?” Vincent asked. There was little response, but everyone was ready. “Okay… go…” Vincent said more quietly, and he snapped, going back to his teleporter, and back up the stairs.
“I have the spike,” Austin said, crouching down. Everyone crouched with him. He glanced at John. “John, count off one hundred seconds, starting now.” John nodded his compliance and began doing so in his mind. “Okay, this is the room,” Austin was saying as he gestured, outward, and pulled a dry erase marker from his shirt pocket, pulling the tip off between his lips and starting to draw on the floor. “We’re calling this area A, this B…” He said quickly, and simply after diagraming a box shape, and dotting it with several little shapes. He pulled the cap from his mouth and put it on the back of the marker. “They’re going to be waiting for us at both spots, it’s the most likely scenario…” He tossed his hair and looked from Sabine, to John, to Han. “So, I think we should go to one area, and all push in there.” He looked up, waiting for feedback.
“Makes sense to me,” Sabine said with a nod.
“Okay, then I’m going to go, B. I don’t know how Vincent feels about it, but I don’t ever feel like the spike carrier should go in first. It sounds like a recipe for disaster.”
“Can you give the spike to me?” Han asked.
He shook his head. “I’m sure I can… let’s just try this first.”
“Marielle, I’m with you.” He nodded at her. She nodded back, but said nothing, and took her gaze away, quickly. No reading my mind right now, for you. Austin continued to speak quickly. “Han, I think your best vantage point is up there,” he gestured both to the boxes, and to that related spot on the map he drew.
Han nodded. “Just let them try to catch me,” she said, excitedly.
“Sabine, you’re with Marielle and I,” he said. Sabine nodded. “I’m going to let you go in first.” Their eyes met briefly, as if Sabine was trying to decide whether Austin was trying to kill her off, or trusted her abilities. She gave him one strong nod. “Marielle, you follow her, and I’ll come up behind you both with the spike,-” he paused, curling a finger at his mouth. “I’ll get it in the ground as quickly as possible, and help guard then,” he looked back to Sabine, “Sabine, you throw down Viper’s pit immediately.” He stopped for a moment in thought, “How long can you hold that up?”
“Depends, but generally about fifteen seconds.”
“How long does the spike take to detonate?” Austin called to Vincent.
Vincent was leaning over the railing. He pushed his glasses up his nose and shrugged, “You have to figure these things out on your own.”
Austin put his hair behind both of his ears with his hands, “Okay, let’s say forty-five seconds…that sounds right.”
“It is right, Austin,” Vincent said under his cupped hand.
Austin smiled, noting that Vincent was confirming the answer while pretending that he wasn’t.
“One hundred seconds,” John announced.
Austin looked up to John, “And you, here, teleport down when we get in,” he drew an imaginary circle around the area that he’d been at in the first round.
“Their backs will be towards at least one of us.” John rasped.
“Correct.” Austin looked to each of them, “Okay, move.”
They all dispersed.
Han floated up to her position, and John teleported to his.
Sabine, Marielle, and Austin all made a line, the girls with their pistols out, Austin with one hand on a pistol, and one clutching the spike; but separated a little as they wove their way through the columns and boxes, making their way to the plant site.
Vincent said nothing, smirked, and momentarily pretended to dangle strings from his fingertips, then made a fist with that hand and put it to his mouth as he watched.
Liam glanced up at the movement, making a mental note again, then back to the arena as he watched the team get into position.
Both Marielle and Sabine swept the area. “Okay, they’re not here, which means they’ll be coming from the other site,” Austin said into his earpiece.
“Roger that,” Sabine said, watching her vantage point.
“Got it,” Marielle added.
Austin slid into position, and put the box onto the ground, pressing the side button. About five seconds later, it was beeping.
A pop signaled that Han had shot an attacker. “One down,” she said into their ears. Austin stood, and waited with the pistol pointed down and away, ready for action.
John spotted a bot creeping up on them, and he teleported down behind it, and gave it a single shot just inches from the back of its head. Then he moved into the plant site. Austin had been mentally noting the seconds. “Okay, Sabine, now,” he said.
She smirked, “Don’t get in my way,” she growled, and from both arms came a thick geyser of green gas that filled the space and expanded outward.
All four of them briefly had a hard time seeing, but as their senses adjusted, they were able to make out shadows of one another.
Austin was moving in a slight circle, arms up as if trying not to trip; he’d never been inside this gas before, and it was unnerving to anyone let alone someone who hadn’t experienced it. He jumped a little when his arm brushed Sabine’s, put a hand over his heart, and breathed out, then lifted his pistol again. The spike was still counting down.
This was when something wrapped itself around Marielle’s ankle, and jerked. She went to her knees, then slammed into the ground and began to be dragged away. “Austin!” She cried, reaching for him, her fingernails tearing in vain at the ground.
Somewhere in the fall, she’d lost her pistol, and couldn’t see it through the thick green smoke. Memories of being caught in Iselin’s…whatever that had been flooding her mind. She was dragged out of the smoke, and could no longer be seen.
“Marielle!” Austin went after her.
“Stay with the spike!” Sabine ordered, gesturing.
Austin threw her a heated glare as he passed by, ignoring her, and after breaking through the green, he whirled the Marshal off his back, and took aim, firing at the robot that was dragging Marielle away. She was trying to roll to her back to kick it without a lot of success. Then she was trying to grab onto anything they passed. The robot took damage, but continued. He lifted the gun again, aimed, fired, got a click sound. “No!” He dropped the Marshal, now useless. For a second their eyes met. -Phase.
She did for a moment, making the bot lose its grip on her, but like lightning it bent again, and at this, Austin lifted his right hand, twirled, and threw a needle sharpened ice shard at the robot’s head. It went down.
Austin ran to her, and helped her to her feet, wanting that moment to hold her that they’d so often shared, and being instantly denied it both emotionally, and by being attacked by another bot. Austin’s vest told him that he took damage, but was still alive.
He pushed her back behind a column, as she was now without a weapon, and pulled his pistol, taking aim, and firing. The bot went down.
Inside the gas, Sabine was aiming her Vandal and removing the final threat.
The spike detonated, and the green gas dissipated. They’d won again.
Everyone stood, staring at one another in awe as they panted.
“Do you think that was a good move?” Vincent asked from above.
“What?” Austin narrowed his eyes, and breathing hard.
Vincent gestured to Marielle. “Going after her?”
Austin squinted and wiped some sweat from his brow. He lifted an arm and dropped it, “If you’re willing to jeopardize one team mate, you’re willing to jeopardize all team mates,” he parroted.
Vincent considered this, his fist still to his mouth and then gave Austin one nod.
Sabine disappeared with John shortly after that session.
Vincent put a hand on Austin’s shoulder shortly thereafter as everyone was breaking up, “If you do nothing else tonight… sleep,” he ordered. Austin nodded.
Han already had a giant turkey sandwich in her hands… from where, no one was certain.
***
Marielle stood in the doorway to the bathroom watching the steady rise and fall of Vincent’s right arm as he lifted the razor to his face, slipped it across the foamy white cream, and dunked it back in the sink to swish it around in the water.
It was a sound that she’d become familiar with in childhood as she sat, talking to her father.
Now, she watched him as he meticulously smoothed his face, clearing it of any stubble on the right side, then the left. He was shirtless, and she was intrigued by his muscles- the way they tightened and loosened in his back, his shoulder blades squeezing together, then smoothing out as he moved, the gold in his body shimmering like the sun setting over the ocean; the marks glinting with every twitch and sway. He threw her a glance in the mirror and gave her a smirk that said, ‘caught you looking.’ She bit her lip and looked down.
“Vous pouvez me regarder, Marielle. Je suis à vous,” he said, giving her a soft smile as he splashed some water onto his face, and patted it dry with a hand towel. She continued to drink him in with her eyes. He had that classic V shape that some women loved; tall and well built, although not grotesque in the upper body.
“I thought men generally shaved in the morning,” Marielle said after a moment as he fit his diamond studs back into his ears, and turned to her, his hair still a little wet and messy from his shower.
He shrugged, “Just felt right, right now.” He turned back to the bathroom counter and replaced his watch, and then tugged a white t-shirt back on over his head.
She snuck up behind him, and put her arms around his middle. He took in a deep breath, feeling her fingertips as the moved under his shirt and stroked the muscles around his stomach and bellybutton.
“You were pretty ruthless today,” she whispered.
He nodded and looked down, thoughtfully, his left brow lifting. “Sometimes you have to push people into corners to get them to understand themselves more.”
“Is that what you were doing?” She asked.
He nodded. “Some of what I was doing, yes. I wanted to see who would crack. I had suspicions from the beginning, but I wanted to put as much pressure on both of them as possible to see who the weak link was.”
“Both of them?” Realization crossed her eyes. “Austin and Sabine.”
He nodded, “He was in one of the worst possible situations he could find himself in today without real and complete trauma. She wasn’t.”
Marielle thought for a moment, wanting to defend Sabine. “She’s been through a lot.”
“So has he,” he replied quickly. “Both, in the past.”
“But everyone processes trauma in their own timing.”
He turned to her, brushing some hair back from her temple, and combing it gently behind her ear. She trembled a little at his touch as he looked down into her eyes. “And I have understanding for that, Masin. But if she hasn’t moved past it enough to protect a team mate or make the best decisions on the battlefield, then she isn’t fit to lead.” He paused again, his fingertips brushing her bottom lip, threatening a kiss. “Did you see how irate she became when I told her that Austin was team captain?” Marielle nodded, staring up into his dark eyes as she tried to understand him and his motivations. “And then how upset she became when I dismissed her, and promptly objectified her.” She nodded again, glancing down. She knew these tricks, too, she just rarely used them to this degree. “If she can’t control herself, she shouldn’t be in charge.”
“Why is Austin different?”
He took in a deep breath. “Training, for one,” he began. “He knows how to separate himself from his emotions to do what needs to be done in the field. In everything else? Not so much.” He nodded as if confirming this to himself. “He’s also been dealing with a dark past internally for over two decades.”
“What is his past like?” she dared.
He cocked his head at her. “I figured he would have talked to you about some of that… you being his best friend and all,” Vincent said.
“Not after last night,” she sighed.
He swallowed hard, and pulled her against him possessively making sure that she could feel all of him. She flushed a little. “Do you know anything about his real mother- not the adoptive one?”
She looked distant for a moment. “I- I know that she was a prostitute.”
“Oh,” he said, a look of horror behind his eyes, “She was much more than that.”
Marielle hesitated. “Can you tell me about it?” she asked, the same confused horror behind her own eyes.
He forced a pained smile to her. “I think I will let him do that. In his own time.” He combed her hair again. “Those are not my secrets to tell. And they might be quite a bit different from the Austin I know.”
She reached up and played along his jaw, and then his mouth with her fingertips; smooth… hard… She delighted. “Oh, Masin,” he breathed, rubbing her lips with his thumb. “So much of this feels like a dream sometimes. But if it is… I don’t want to wake up.”
She touched his hand, and turned, kissing his palm.
He closed his eyes, savoring the sensations that she was giving him; ready for her skin against his and letting out a soft moan. Her heart sped up, knowing that he wanted to make love, soon. She felt familiar heat coursing through her body and smiled.
He had taken a while to give in to her, but when he finally decided to let her have him, he was ravenous, and she liked it.
There was a pause.
“Were we friends? The three of us?” She asked.
He sighed, heavily and looked off, recalling a memory she thought. “There is a photograph somewhere,-” he looked down, “-actually, several.” He readjusted his watch, and reached around her, taking his glasses into his hand, and fitting them over his nose, pushing them up with his fingertip. “The one that I am thinking of, we are at the beach. All three of us. It’s from the waist up.” He put his hand at about his bellybutton. “You took a cell phone and put it on a cooler or something, and said that you wanted a picture. Austin was on board, you both had to drag me into it.” She cocked her head at him like that struck her as strange. “You’re in the middle in a… pretty, white bikini, and big framed sunglasses. You’re grinning; the tip of your tongue between your lips- beautiful beyond words. You’ve got your right arm around his shoulders; his temple is against your chin. His sunglasses are pushing his hair back, and he’s making some kind of,-” he gesticulated for a moment, “-sign with his fingers, and sticking his tongue out to the right, through a grin,” he chuckled. “Very Austin. Your left arm is around my middle, urging me into the picture. I’m hiding behind my sunglasses, too. The sun is at that perfect hour; my tattoos are shining in the light. I’m smiling softly.” He swallowed and paused.
“Where is that photo now?”
He shrugged. “Lost to time? I think it was in a box that eventually I threw out after you died.” This was a lie, but she didn’t know why. He paused, going back to her original question. “Yes, we were all friends at one point.”
“What happened?” she asked.
He smirked, sadly and gazed at her longingly, “you.” She was confused, he’d said that she wasn’t dating Austin in the other dimension when she’d asked. But then it hit her… she’d dated both, hadn’t she? He pinched her chin, and guided it back up to look at her, “Don’t give up on him so easily.”
“I don’t understand your compassion towards him. Not after last night, and what you know.”
“Just trust me.”
“You always tell me not to,” she reminded with a salacious flick of the brow. “And I’ll admit… it’s kind of sexy.”
He smiled, remembering. Silence passed between them for a moment, the kind of silence that was filled with many questions and answers simultaneously. “Anyway, things will unfold as they are meant to.”
“I suppose there’s no way around that,” she added under breath. He ran his thumb over her lip. “Thought you were going to deal with me later,” she whispered.
“Oh, Masin,” he breathed, tipping and giving her a needy kiss. “I’ll deal with you all night long.”
***
Austin threw his keys and his wallet down on his dining room table, and for a moment, he stared at the empty chair across from him as if trying to conjure her there.
Then he wandered into the kitchen… first need? Eat. So, he made himself some leftover pasta and salad before he opened the freezer, looking around. Nothing there worth sinking his teeth into. What did he want to sink his teeth into… her… He wanted to sink his teeth into her. Over, and over again. Memories from earlier, and last night flooded his head, causing his blood to pump faster.
-You’re downright delicious. He’d said to her earlier, in the arena.
His heart sped up at the memory of every single time she had said his name last night on the bed before she slapped him. He still felt each impact on his cheek.
He exhaled. I have to stop this.
He went to his car, and drove to the corner store, hoping to buy a beer or something to take the edge- the jittering off. While wandering the aisle of refrigerated goods – after grabbing his Corona – his eyes moved over something that caused them to stop. Ice cream…chocolate. He opened the door and grabbed a pint, then he started to go back to the cashier. Something was missing… he paused. Butterscotch syrup. Why butterscotch? He’d never had that combination before.
Turning, he glanced over the ice cream topping options. Chocolate, strawberry, caramel, yes! Butterscotch. He paid, then went back home.
Austin tossed his wallet and keys to the coffee table, wandered to the kitchen to get a spoon, then returned to sit down, and opened the ice cream, and the syrup.
He drizzled some over it, and put a spoonful into his mouth, closing his eyes. It was sublime. Why hadn’t he ever thought about doing this before? He put several more spoonfuls into his mouth, letting out a little, “mmmm,” as his brows knit together in bliss in the process, then wishing that she were there to enjoy it with him; needing her to come inside of him. He had been tossing and turning for the last two nights, and he knew that if she would just pass through him, she could end the ceaseless anxiety and force his calm. He knew it.
He knew what he tasted as he ate the frozen treat, he wanted to know what it tasted like to her…
She said that she wanted it… He said that he wanted to drizzle that syrup on her. He did. He put a little on his fingertip and sucked it off, again closing his eyes. It was driving him crazy. He put both hands over his face. The metal spoon fell to the table with a clang sound that split the silence in a way that startled him, but he didn’t move.
He pressed his palms into his eyes, and rubbed at the ache.
Second need…? Hug the demon. It was snuggling closer and closer to him.
‘Hey, sweetness… been a while.’
“Go away, mother.”
‘Oh, Austin,’ her voice sweet and tender in his head, at first, ‘you dropped your crown… can I put it back on your head?’ She was combing through his hair, caressing his temple.
“No,” he said quickly. “No, I don’t need it.”
‘But you want it…’ Her voice became more and more a whisper, and she rounded out each word, elongating the syllables and sharp edges.
“I want…Marielle,” he breathed into his palms.
‘She hates you.’ His face twisted, his chest thudding in pain. How long before he had a heart attack? ‘You snake.’ Her voice was sinister now, challenging.
“She’s just angry.” He bit back tears.
‘And she went home with Vincent. She’s always going to go home with Vincent.’ The voice taunted, and the feminine demeanor had fallen away… the demon slowly revealing itself. ‘You’ll always be a second choice.’
“Please, just stop,” he begged, pressing his palms into his eyes.
‘Marielle hates you.’
“I want her.”
‘You can have her…’ He winced away at the memory of his mother’s red fingernails on his arm, scratching his skin. ‘Remember? Every girl is Marielle, just pick one. You don’t need her love.’
“M-maybe I do.”
‘Sweetness. Go to a mirror, let me crown you. Look at how perfect you are.’ He sucked air in through his teeth, still feeling those marks on his arm, his shoulder mentally drawing away from her the same way that he did when he was young. ‘You can have whatever you want, pleasure god.’
He stood away from the couch like it was covered in poisonous insects, and paced. For a moment panic crashed over him; one that was forcing his breathing to come out jerky, and hitched. “Leave me alone, mother. Stay in your grave where you belong.”
Trembling, hardly aware of what he was doing, he raised the remote and flicked his television on, immediately turning to a channel that he knew had pornography on cable.
He paused, his eyes filling with a mix of terror first, then consideration. Ironically, it was a commercial… for ice cream. He flicked his eyes at the table; the carton still sitting open.
He tried to catch his breath as he watched the family on screen sit around a movie, large bowls of frozen, sugary confection in their laps. There was a husband, strong and handsome with a pearly smile, a wife, beautiful, long blonde hair, a son two or three years old, a daughter a bit older than the son, and a cat. His chest physically ached, and he fantasized in a way that he hadn’t in a long time; he was that husband, Marielle that wife, and they were getting ready to watch a Disney film, or something like Star Wars together, Felix at their side.
A weak, tear threatened smile moved over his mouth, and he hugged himself around the middle, and bit the back of his ring finger knuckle.
It hurt. It hurt in a way that was unbearable. Pretty, naked women who he didn’t know weren’t going to cure this pain in his chest. Neither was release. He knew the demon well, it would- it would for a moment… but then he’d be alone again and the thoughts, feelings, and anxiety would swirl around his body and mind, tormenting him.
This pain was a bullet to the arm on the battlefield, the bikini clad woman that he caught glimpse of when the commercial ended with cheesy jazz behind her was an “I’m sorry,” being said to that wound, and not the bleeding man. It wasn’t even a bandage.
He flicked the television off before anything else happened with the busty brunette, but started to pace excitedly, twitching, panicking.
Marielle hated him. She hated him. She hated him. She’d told him so. Give in. Just give in. What does it matter? It doesn’t matter! She hates you! She said she does, she hardly looked at you all day. Feel good for twenty minutes. Release. Release the anxiety, release the tension. Go find a hooker, and tell her what to do and say. It’ll feel so good. You’ll feel so… good. Feel good!
He dragged his fingers across his scalp, walking in circles. That’s what he was doing in life too, walking in circles.
Circles…circles… for some reason this reminded him of the beginning of a song.
He glanced at the coffee table, and to his surprise something was sticking out of his wallet; that damn card… Queen of Hearts.
He went to his knees, and picked it up; flipping it over in his hands, asking it for an answer that he knew it didn’t have. It was a card; a piece of poster paper. He felt dumb.
He jumped up, and went to his piano… circles…circles… it came out in his fingertips. He was supposed to create something new, that’s what they taught you in training when it came to trauma, and strong negative emotion. Vincent knew this trick too, that’s why he painted. Create something new… He couldn’t do that anymore no matter how hard he tried. He hadn’t been able to write a song for over ten years. Heck, he hadn’t even been able to write a love letter or a poem or sonnet and he’d written a few of those in college long before Erin.
So, he continued to borrow someone else’s voice.
And instead of pouring himself into something worthless and wasting, he poured himself into the piano, his voice, and what was left of his passion at this hour, through his exhaustion. But when Austin connected with the piano – with his voice – he lost all inhibitions.
It didn’t matter if it was one PM, four AM, at a party, or he got the time to sit at a piano in a church, every bit of what he felt, he did. He spent everything when he needed to release in a different way. This was one of the only times where he felt like he didn’t have to appear sexy, cool, perfect to anyone or anything. He just let go. In fact, he knew that there were times where he looked downright ridiculous; like a toddler being told to reenact an entire cheerleading routine. He didn’t care. He was possessed by his passion. This… and this alone was one of the only things that his mother could never have.
As he finished playing Evil by Interpol, he paused gasping out the adrenaline, finishing his beer, which had served multiple times as his microphone during that performance – to… no one – and sliding off the bench as he ignored the television.
Third need? Sleep. He slumped to his mattress after sloughing off his shirt, and crashing down face first, Queen of Hearts in hand to look over for a minute before he put it on the nightstand, propped against his lamp so he could ponder it. Was it a promise? A taunt? A threat?
His mind began a new battle, then. Marielle’s voice- the deadly serious look in her eyes as she stared him down. I fucking hate you.
Her fingertips on the card. -I won’t walk away from this.
The back of Valorant again and her voice.
Her needy breaths last night, and his name on her mouth as she fought saying no. Austin. How many women had he made say his name in that very way trying to imagine what it would sound like on her mouth. Now he had it. He had it in his mind… his soul…and it was coursing through his veins like poison. I need you– his voice.
Austin- hers.
He rolled onto his back, and dragged his fingertips over his scalp, squeezing his hair enough to cause himself pain. –Austin. It was a sharp knife moving over his mouth, his skin. He wanted to escape it. –Austin… and embrace it. A torture that he had no desire to get away from, and every need to alleviate so he could rest.
I need you– his voice.
Austin– hers. The blade was digging in deep between his ribs, and into his lungs, cutting off his air supply.
He slowly turned onto his stomach, desperate for a position that would shut his mind up and terrified to fall asleep because dreams meant torture; whether sexual, real memory, or both, would remain to be seen. That position shifted it, alright.
She hates me.
He swallowed; his throat dry. His mind was numb, and his body was alert, alive, excited. None of it made any sense, and he tossed and turned for a while in a torment that the pillow pressed tightly against his body couldn’t alleviate.
He glanced at the clock on the nightstand, midnight. The Queen softly reflected the red glow. Forty-two hours, plus and counting… counting…counting…circles… it reminded him of a song.