Chapter 1. Romance ended in bloodshed. One x One. Private.

[Cortisol]

V A L E N T I N E

Some called it a psychotic breakdown. Some call them tantrums. Others called them trigger words.

Because they were as equally powerful as pulling the trigger to a gun. Equally damaging. One was physical and the other mental. The mentioning of these trigger words triggered such an emotional response that the body was flooded with so much emotion, rage, anger, frustration, disgust, anxiety, furry, irrational etcetera, that it was an explosion of gunpowder and primer. Valentine’s trigger word was the mentioning of his father…and Holden’s…well Valentine realized that after the words spilled from his mouth. Valentine couldn’t look away. His eyes trained to follow Holden as he got up. Valentine could already hear the difference in Holden’s voice. The sarcasm. How many times did Valentine end up in a rage where he destroyed everything in his path? Chair. Busted. Cups. Thrown. Cupboards. Slammed. Valentine had created a monster and didn’t even ******** take responsibility.

Just sat on the couch. Then Holden walked down the hall and Valentine had to rely on his ears. The screams…and then BANG. A shiver went through Valentine’s body. Down his spine and into the hollows of his abdomen. Holden began talking again. He wasn’t dead. He didn’t kill himself. Stupid. Holden came back out and Valentine looked to see if he was shot anywhere. Trying to find some evidence that Holden needed to go to the hospital. None. Holden sat down next to Valentine. Demanded to know who Valentine was. Kept his eyes closed. Valentine moved away from Holden. Sat further down the couch. It wasn’t fair. Valentine always had to do the talking. Holden was just a spoiled rotten kid. Cruel.

“My name was Beauregard Levett.” Valentine began to speak and as he did he began to take off his coat, and unbutton his shirt. Holden will hear the whole story. “My father…Conrad Levett was a powerful lawyer. He almost never lost a case. My father was a sadist and strung out on meth all the time. He was the lawyer to drug rings and human trafficking. My father was the devil reincarnated. He was also a part of this kiddie fight club. After killing my mother and keeping her locked up in a box under his bed he decided that I should start fighting. The object was to be the last one standing. When I lost the fight my father dragged me away…I already had a broken jaw and ribs. It wasn’t enough punishment. So he poured gasoline on me…and then lit me on fire.” Valentine pulled his shirt off. He didn’t care if Holden opened his eyes. He wanted to know who Valentine was? It was his fault. The reds of his scorched skin. The bubbled up grotesque mask that covered his back. As red as a ******** bloody valentine card.

With love. The burns seemed to say. A love so passionate it literally burned.

The mark that he belonged to his father forever, and each breath he took was rebelling.
“Coincidently, the police have been tracking the kiddie fight club and raided, just in time to save me. They arrested my father. Found my mother’s corpse. On February 14th my father was sentenced to death, by lethal injection. My father kept documents and records on all of his clients…and they wanted that information…Roger now has these documents. Roger has the names of at least half of the people who are responsible for the lunchboxes. Roger knows everything. Meanwhile after the hearing I slipped through the system and ran away. I was reborn. I’m Valentine. Beau is dead…he died a long time ago. Valentine…Valentine will live forever.” By then his voice had dropped. He could hear Roger’s voice. Trying to explain in words that Valentine would understand about his father. The documents his father kept locked up in a safe. The combination his father forced Valentine to remember while he dripped boiling water on him. After his mother died his father turned all the attention to Valentine. Lucky. Roger made Valentine remember everything. Valentine hated Roger. Refused to see him. Roger dragged him to a psychologist who hypnotized him. Fitzpatrick took over.

Valentine then crawled into Holden’s lap, straddled him, and grabbed Holden’s face with both hands.

Speaking in baited breath, “Are you satisfied, Holden? You spoiled rotten child. I hate you. I hate you so much.” His fingers moved and wrapped around Holden’s neck. Lightly. He couldn’t bring himself to squeeze. In that moment everything had changed. Everything. Valentine stared right into the essence of Holden. “I have to outlive my father…even if by one breath…if I outlive my father. Then I win. I am officially free. So, stop throwing a tantrum, baby, and fix your ugly face.” It didn’t matter the age because now Holden was a child. A child throwing a tantrum. For once…for once it wasn’t Valentine throwing a tantrum. And that alone made Valentine happy.

Did it matter what Holden though?
Did it matter how Holden would respond?

Valentine didn't know because everything had already changed forever and nothing...nothing can reverse that fact.

[U n d r a w n]

H o l d e n




Holden took in deep breaths. 7. 2. 7. Something something something. 7. 2. 7. 7. 2. 7. He couldn't remember the rest of the numbers. All he could remember were those first three. He kept repeating them over and over and over again in his head. Calm down. Calm down. Calm down. What did it take to calm the ******** down? "My name was Beauregard Levett." Holden leaned his head back trying to picture Beauregard. Trying to picture Valentine having that name.

Nope. Couldn't do it.

He went on talking about daddy issues. Who didn't have daddy issues? Most people Holden knew were fatherless, had fathers who always drank or used drugs, beat them, or were never there. That's how you end up ******** up. When the d**k you came out of decides they would've rather had you crammed back inside. Holden's mom ran away after she got pregnant with him. Holden never met the b*****d. He was glad he didn't. Valentine used to be a dog in a dog fighting ring. He lost and was lit aflame. He glanced. You couldn't not glance when you heard somebody stripping for you and listened to them talking about being lit aflame. His back was covered in scar tissue. He had seriously been burned. Badly. He went on saying the police saved his a** before he was killed. His father was sentenced to death. Roger knows everything. Holden brought a hand up and rubbed his eye with it when all of a sudden Valentine was crawling on his lap. Valentine grabbed his face. Then slid his fingers to his neck asking if he was happy. Saying he hated him. "So, stop throwing a tantrum, baby, and fix your ugly face." Holden's eyes were all watered over from frustration and now his lips began trembling.

No. He wasn't going through this bullshit again. Valentine was on top of him talking about how much he hated him and Holden wanted to pin Valentine against the couch and take over. He wanted to slap his face and then tell him how pathetic he was. He wanted to starting fighting or ********. He wanted to do something that didn't involve talking and just involved rough movements that could say everything. He didn't know what he wanted. He wasn't going to let the night he overdosed happen all over again. If he kissed Valentine or not he wasn't going to do that again. Valentine would ******** leave again. The ******** would just pack up and leave. Holden spent most his life running from s**t he didn't want to deal with. Valentine was the first time he dealt with something he wanted running from him. Holden didn't like being the fool.

[******** Valentine." He finally responded, taking a hand and shoving it against Valentine's bare chest trying to push him off to the side. "Don't touch me." That's right. Don't touch him. Holden was trying to clear his mind and organize his thoughts but he couldn't. He was soaking wet in emotions and had to deal with a raid on his Safe House, his missing two-timing roommate, thoughts from his past clashing over him, trying to stay turned off after Valentine decided to straddle him like that. Not to mention all the drama Valentine also dragged along. If Holden was right this kid only had a few more days to live. Plus he was one of the ******** who was involved in bringing the heroin around and Holden didn't want to be seen with Valentine. Before it was bad if somebody saw them together. Now if somebody saw him with this kid, he'd probably be seen as a traitor since everyone was so paranoid thanks to the heroin.

"I can't..." He brought his head down, and lightly leaned them against his hands. [********] What did he say? What did he do? Nobody gave him a ******** goddamn manual or directions as to what you did in a situation like this. "Stop pissing me off." He stated standing up from his couch. He moved into his bedroom which had clothes and blankets and necklaces and towels thrown all over the floor. There was a broken mirror hanging crooked on the wall now. He moved over straightening it out. He left the gun in Jason's room. He moved to the other bedroom taking the gun and slipping it in his pocket. "Lets go for a walk." Holden said as he moved back into the living room. On a walk nothing could happen. Holden wouldn't try beating or ******** the douche bag in public and Valentine wouldn't be allowed to act like a lunatic. Plus, walks were supposed to clear your head. Holden just wanted to clear his head and have somebody tell him what the ******** he was supposed to do. All he felt like he wanted to do was run. He wanted to pack up and move the ******** away from the bullshit. Maybe to the middle of the woods somewhere. You know, where there were no people. People were monsters.

[Cortisol]

V A L E N T I N E

They were just children in the sandbox.

Children couldn’t defend themselves. The only method that could ensure their survival was to run. Children didn’t understand how to control their emotions and therefore had low impulse control. Emotional violent selfish children. Valentine had gotten used to running away. Running away was easy. If Valentine ran away anymore he would run off into oblivion and he would never ever be able to return back to the concrete playground. “Don’t touch me.” Valentine slide off and sat beside Holden on the couch. Silent. His fingers grabbed his button-up shirt and he began to pull his arm through the sleeve and then the other arm. Began buttoning up his shirt slowly when Holden stormed off again.

Then Holden came back and said they should go for a walk. Valentine didn’t move. Just stared at Holden. Public? Outside? It was safe inside. It was safe inside Holden’s apartment. But, now Holden wanted to leave. “I told you…the weather is cold and it’s very windy.” Valentine said trying to lighten the topic. He still grabbed his coat and put it on while standing up. Valentine suddenly didn’t trust Holden. In that moment their neutrality had evaporated. Valentine smiled and stuffed his hands in his pocket. “Where are you taking me? Out on a date?” Valentine joked as he walked across the room and picked up the pocket knife. You didn’t bring a knife to a gun fight…but Valentine’s finger prints were all over Valentine’s gun which Andre confiscated after their last job. Evidence.

Fresh air really did sober people up. The fresh oxygen being pumped into the lungs and cleaning the blood from the toxins that Valentine consumed. “Let’s go this way. The view is prettier this way.” Valentine said as he turned to the right. It was dangerous to turn to the left. Valentine wanted to go where nobody recognized him or Holden. However, those areas were beginning to decline. The wind was harsh and blew with such rage and malicious. Hollered loudly. Valentine tried to act normally. Trying to forget the conversation that happened just moments ago didn’t happen. “I went back to that cafe…I was right they didn’t have the same cheesecake.” Valentine laughed as he bluntly lied. Valentine didn’t have time to go back to the stupid café and order the stupid cheesecake. All Valentine knew was that the cheesecake could have been the same ******** awesome taste.

It was easier to think about cheesecake than to think about Holden. To think of the red sauce than to think about the wetness in Holden’s eyes. To think about the cherries than to think about Holden’s lips. Valentine looked up. The sky was black black black. God had spilled black ink and refused to show Valentine the stars and the planets of the Milky Way, b*****d. Not even the moon could be seen. “I want out.” Valentine said finally his eyes still staring up at the sky. Then turned toward Holden and grabbed Holden’s arm, even though he wasn't supposed to touch him, “Let’s just run away…let’s go to the station and hop on the first train that will take us far away from this!” Valentine’s eyes were wild. Walking never helped Valentine. Only made his paranoid mind think of all the worse possible outcomes. Then Valentine laughed and released Holden. Valentine just jumped from one topic to the next.

“Are you…are you…going to kill me, Holden? I mean…are we still friends?”

[U n d r a w n]

H o l d e n




The moment Holden went outside he was right. Valentine threw on his shirt and coat running along after Holden talking about the weather. Silent. Joked about a date. Silent. Holden was still torn between beating the ******** out of Valentine and killing himself. He walked outside and once he looked around he saw it was dark. Of course it was stupid to go outside where everyone wanted to bone Valentine and Holden alive. Everyone wanted to kill everyone. Nothing mattered anymore. There were no teams or families or safe spots. Not after Jason sold him out. Who could he trust if he couldn’t even trust his own roommate? He lived with ******** Jason for two years now. They bled together. “Lets go this way.” He stupidly followed along and stared at the floor. Valentine had crammed his hands in his pocket and Holden was gripping hold of his gun in his pocket too.

He was talking about cheesecake now. ”I ******** hate cheesecake. Piece of s**t wanna-be-cake.” Holden barked. He stopped walking when Valentine said, “I want out.” He gripped Holden’s arm talking about running away. Running somewhere far away. Just like Holden was thinking. He released Holden’s arm asking if he was going to kill him. Kill him? He ripped out his gun and pointed it at Valentine’s face. ”I dunno! Will I?!” He shouted. He waved the gun in Valentine’s face a moment. ”You said you wanted out!” He screamed. Then he pulled the gun towards his own skull, shoving it against his temple. ”This is a way out!” He yelped hitting the gun against his head. He pointed it back at Valentine. He threw the gun against the brick wall just to the side of him. [********] He brought his hands to his hair and gripped tightly. ”YES.” He said as he bent over to glare at the side walk. ”OF COURSE WE’RE ******** FRIENDS.” He took a seat right on the sidewalk looking around. There was one woman staring at them from a good block and a half away. Holden made eye contact with her for half a second. She turned around and began walking right off. Running away sounded good. Yeah? He'd do that. They could run away. He heard police sirens from far away and Holden wasn't going to stay round long enough to know if it was for them. He grabbed the gun and shoved it in his pocket, then took hold of Valentine's arm and began to sprint down the street. He cut into an alley way and stumbled forward as he let go of Valentine's arm. He reached out and climbed up the fence jumping on the other side. "Hurry up!" He screamed.

He continued sprinting down the street and dove into a subway station, leaping down the steps once he was low enough to not break his legs off on the landing. He jumped over the bar where you were supposed to swipe your pass and looked over his shoulder to make sure Valentine was keeping up. Then, he ran to the subway number 4 that was right in front of them and jumped through the doors. He moved to the window and took a seat on the hard seat. He let out a sigh. Then started to breath heavily. [******** ******** ******** ******** ********] Were the only words he could get out of his mind.

Where were they?

Oh, right. Running away. Wait. They couldn't run away. With what money? Where would they go? Holden made his money from drug dealing and leaving meant that money was non existent. It was illogical. He didn't want to end up in some goddamn normal town outside of the city where the only way to survive was getting some minimum wage 9 to 5 job. ******** that. What other options were there? Who did Holden know? Caleb. They could try to hide with his brother. Mom. No. He wouldn't put his mom anywhere near danger. ******** that. Who else? Kyle? No. Caleb couldn't trust anyone involved with any sort of gang buisness. Not after Jason. Not Kyle, David, any of the guys. None of them. "What are we doing?" Holden asked. "What the ******** am I doing?" He looked out the subway windows to see the dark walls passing by quickly. The squealing of the wheels. He looked back at Valentine and stood up. "Lets get off here." He said stumbling towards the doors to the subway. He grabbed one of the metal polls and waited for the screeching stop. "Where are we going?" Holden said making a fist. "To ******** am I running away." He said as he stepped off the train and moved towards the steps leading back up to the city streets. "How does Roger know them? Make him give us the names and I'll ******** bang their brains out myself. Make him point us in the right direction. I'll end it myself and I'm so ******** sick of depending on everyone else." The fresh air hit his face again as they came up to the street again. "Lets go to a strip club."

[U n d r a w n]

A l l e n
















"Do not be useless, Robert. What have I told you about this?" Allen asked tilting his head to the side. "I'm sorry. Alright? I'm sorry, sir. I'll take care of it." He said shoving his hands in his pockets. Allen had just told Robert he needed to get his own little 'pet'. His own 'belonging'. After the idea of Caleb having some boy stay with him. Why couldn't Allen tell Robert to get and break his own person? Robert took some drunk girl from Allen's club. Robert worked there a lot, so getting a girl drunk and bringing her home would hardly be a challenge. Allen was giving him two months to break the girl in and then he'd see if she was worth keeping or not. "So... What about that Julian kid?" Robert asked squinting his eyes. "I have actually planned on meeting him tonight while Caleb is with Brain. I am quite interested in seeing the apartment Caleb picked out with my money as well." He explained. "Can I come? I wanna beat that kid's rich face in. ******** douche about it. I swear. That kid makes me wanna punch him." Allen looked over at Robert. "No. Go home to your own belonging. You have quite a lot of work to do if you want to keep her around much longer." Allen said as he moved to his room and changed his shirt. were am i supsed to meet him?? Allen looked at his cellphone a few moments, then looked at the white clock on the side of his wall. So Caleb was leaving now? He texted back: His house. Since that was very much where Brian had told Allen he wanted Caleb to meet him. He placed the shirt he was wearing neatly folded up into the hamper and then left his loft.

It didn't take him long until he was stepping out of a taxicab and looking up at the apartment complex Caleb had moved to. He walked into the lobby to see the blue carpet that lead to the elevator and stairs. It wasn't as horrible as Allen had expected it to be. He moved to the elevator going to up Caleb's floor, then he stopped in front of the apartment. So this was it. This was the place where the golden child was staying at. This was the place Allen would go to when Caleb was trying to hide from him.

Knock, knock, knock.

Three knocks. He took a step back waiting for the door to open up. Once it did he was looking right down at the red headed boy. He stepped inside, closing the door himself and walked right past the boy. He was not first on Allen's list. First he wanted to see the apartment for himself. He walked around. Looking at the living room, looking in Caleb's room, looking in Julian's room, the kitchen area. Once he looked around enough to satisfy himself he decided it was time to turn his attention to the boy. So, he crossed his arms as he approached him, his head held up high. "Well hello, Julian." Allen greeted him. He moved forward taking hold of Julian's wrist. He pulled the injured hand closer to himself, applying pressure to his broken fingers. It would be simple to re-break the boy's fragile fingers. He released the Julian's wrist and turned his back as he moved to the couch, lightly sitting on it. Allen shifted his position. "Come. Sit." He ordered, wanting the boy to sit on the chair opposite to him. He scanned over the young male's features again. This was Julian. Each mental picture of every moment. "I do not appreciate people interfering with my possessions." Allen started as he crossed one leg over the other. "Normally," He stood up and moved closer. How could he say such a thing without making contact with the boy? He walked over, then wrapped his hand around his jaw. He pointed the boy's face up at his own, forcing him to keep eye contact. "Normally, I would simply slit your throat in front of it, had you been anyone else." He explained. ”But you interest me.” He said as he let go of the boy’s jaw. That was the reason he would keep Julian alive, at least for now.

"Anyways," Allen said moving back and sitting back to the couch. "I want you to tell me what business you have with my Caleb." Allen told him. "I don't think it's very fair that it gives you shelter, food, entertainment, piece of mind, and anything else in return that you could possibly ask for. While in return you give it nothing. Does that sound fair to you, Julian?" Allen asked trying to make his point. His eyes dropped back towards Julian's broken fingers. "You can not even play your dear violin on the street as an attempt to make a little money for a simple present with those useless hands." Allen stated. "Not that you'd want to, drawing attention would mean risking going back home, wouldn't it?" Allen could offer Julian anything in the world. What is it Julian would want? Allen still wasn't sure what to do with the boy. He was starting to get in the way when it came to Caleb. Perhaps a simple threat and forcing Julian to go back home would be the answer. But that was not very entertaining was it? Caleb would be lonely and crawl right back to Allen, feeling like a failure. It was all too simple. He would not send Julian back home without emotionally scarring him first.

[Cortisol]

V A L E N T I N E

Valentine stared down the barrel of the gun.

Holden had entered a manic state of being. Waving the gun in Valentine’s face, and then slowly placed the barrel of the gun to his own temple. In the back of Valentine’s mind the gun went off just like at the apartment. Was Holden trying to kill himself? “Oh, yeah now you're just being cute.” Valentine spat as he looked away from Holden. Wanting to believe he had that childish belief of out of sight and out of mind. Holden screamed YES and Valentine stared at the gun Holden threw at him, or near him, and after turned back to Holden. He smiled. Valentine wanted to see the expression Holden had on his face. But he was already sitting on the sidewalk that they were in fact still friends. The police siren was heard in the distance. Coming closer and louder. Holden had leapt to his feet and grabbed Valentine’s arm and soon they were running for real.

Paranoia gripped Valentine as he ran but then Holden let go of him and he stumbled. HURRY UP. Valentine caught his footing and glared at him. Stupid Holden letting go of Valentine and then yelling at him. Holden was much faster than Valentine realized as he pushed himself to keep up with Holden. Into the subway station. Valentine breathing heavily as he slowed his movements while going down the stairs, but jumped over the gates, when he started hearing the beeping, the doors were closing, but before they closed Valentine jumped on the subway, and looked around. Holden was sitting on a seat. Panting and gripping his chest Valentine collapsed next to him. “[********, did you see that?” Valentine laughed. “I almost missed the train. Slow down next time.”

It didn’t take long for Valentine to realize that he wasn’t actually talking with Valentine but talking at Valentine. Valentine was a placeholder, and Holden was so manic, Valentine didn’t even think Holden knew Valentine was there. Holden’s reality was broken. He began asking Valentine where they were going. Silence. Valentine followed Holden off the subway, and up the stairs. They were on a journey that didn’t have a destination. “Holden…hey Holden calm down.” Valentine said as he stepped in front of Holden and began walking backwards. Holden’s eyes were wild like a beast, but they still didn't see Valentine. “Do you really want to go to a strip club? Why?” Valentine asked. Valentine had money in his pocket but he didn’t know how much. Valentine didn’t want to go to a strip club. Didn’t want to see Holden looking and touching and paying ugly whore ********.

Valentine found himself in a nameless strip club. Sitting beside Holden. Valentine didn’t want to be there, but he also didn’t want to leave Holden alone. Valentine ordered a water that he didn’t drink. Everything felt greasy and damp. Everywhere was black with colored lights slicing through the blackness “Let’s just get a hotel room for the night…we can think about a plan tomorrow morning.” Valentine began saying to Holden. Valentine had mentally blocked out where they were. Didn’t see the parade of naked girls thrusting on stage. His concern had been Holden, and trying to get him to come back to reality. “We’ll pay cash and use fake names. Like Sid and Nancy...you can be Nancy if you want. You don’t look good, Holden. What are you on?” Now it was Valentine blaming Holden. It wasn’t Valentine’s fault that he showed up to Holden’s door unannounced drunk and awkward. “Drink some water, stupid. Your face is pale.” Valentine said as he crashed the glass of water to Holden’s lips. Hoping it shattered Holden’s teeth.


Before grabbing Holden’s face and saying overly loud in his ear, “Let’s leave…we can get you to bed. You look tired. Let’s just stay in a hotel. Let’s leave now. Okay?”

[U n d r a w n]

H o l d e n




Holden... Hey Holden calm down... Almost missed the train... Slow down... Do you really want to?

Those were the words he absorbed before he found himself standing inside some building. Holden had forgotten those two pills he took back when he was at his apartment with nothing better to do. He didn't even look at what they were. All he remembered was they weren't those ******** capsule pills he hated. Holden never swallowed capsules. They sucked. He didn't care what they were. He was standing in the first strip club he could find. No money. Just a gun. He was staring at some girl who was gripping a pole. She was wearing red underwear and her top was on the ground. Some guy was placing money inside the underwear giving her dirty looks. She was obviously about to get paid a ridiculous amount for 3o minutes worth of work. "Let's just get a hotel room for the night." She began running her fingers through the guy's hair and whispering in his ear. "Huh?" The stripper and the guy began to mesh together. Her hair began bleeding into his skin. Fake names. Sid and Nancy. If you want. The girl looked like paper. You don't look good. He was right. They looked horrible. They were melting away and it didn't look healthy. "What are you on?" He put a hand out trying to wipe away the bleeding colors from their skin. The blotchy messes they were making in the air. "Huh?" He asked again.

He jolted his head backwards as the glass of water was bashed into his lip. "Huh?" There was a small amount of blood that began to bleed out onto his tongue. The taste of iron registered through his brain although he couldn't absorb where the taste was coming from. Valentine grabbed his face. "Lets leave... We can get you to bed. You look tired. Let's just stay in a hotel. Let's leave now. Okay?" Holden shrugged. "Yeah fine. You look like you've been up for a week straight anyways." Holden stated, commenting on how horrible he looked. That's what it must look like when somebody was running for their life. He moved out onto the street. The sky was still dark. The sky was bleeding into the buildings still. Everything was bleeding together. The colors were vibrant. It wasn't hard to find a place to stay. There were hotels and motels crawling all over the city. They ended up at one that was just a few blocks away from the grimy strip club. Holden stood behind Valentine staring at his clothed back, imagining the burning flesh just underneath his shirt. Did it still hurt? He let Valentine do all the talking for the room key. Holden didn't exactly have any money on him at the moment anyways. He could have robbed somebody. He should have done that. Holden was good at robbing people. Especially with a gun.

They both moved down the hallway and Holden waited for Valentine to unlock the door before he moved inside. He looked around not absorbing a sight in the room. His eyes landed straight on the bathroom and he moved inside then turned the sink on looking up at his face. Whoa. He was high. Took a while for the pills to kick in, or maybe it didn't. He had been screaming and doing things he'd regret tomorrow the second Valentine walked inside his apartment. He dipped his hands under the warm water and began throwing it against his face by the handful. Snap out of it. Snap out of it, what the ******** is wrong with you? He didn't like seeing himself as such a mess, even when he was high. He spat out in the sink to see small traces of blood in his mouth. Valentine must've cut his gum when he tried bashing his ******** face in at the strip club. He didn't look good. After drenching his face a few minutes he moved back into the room and stared at Valentine. He felt like he was swaying back and forth but there was no telling when you were high. He had no idea if his body truly was moving or not. He let out a large breath. Then, he decided something that he probably would've never decided had he been sober.

[******** it. Your my b***h until we're killed. The ******** am I dying alone. That's bullshit. I ain't dying alone."

He stated as he stumbled forward gripping onto Valentine's shoulders. He stumbled to the side but made sure to catch himself with the support from Valentine. Then he moved forward kissing him right on the half-lips, half-cheek. He missed, but, close enough. The point was there. "Seriously this ********'.... ********] He didn't know what he was trying to say. But he was trying to find something to b***h about. [******** politics." He decided to go with. Holden didn't follow politics in the slightest. He didn't even know who the hell was running for president in the next election. But he knew everyone bitched about it all the time.

[Cortisol]

V A L E N T I N E

Valentine remembered Holden telling him that he wanted a week of sobriety. The conversation flawed and morphed played in his mind. Memory was an unreliable b***h. Blood trickled out of Holden’s mouth, but he didn’t seem to notice, Valentine smiled, and began pushing him towards the exit. Back out into the fresh air. Valentine couldn’t remember sleeping, and if he did it wasn’t good sleep, and if he did he didn’t dream. “Where should we go…Oh where…oh where should we go?” Valentine sang happier that Holden was now complying. Valentine wasn’t picky. The first one he saw they walked too. Valentine talked with the old woman behind the desk who had a huge mole on her face. Seriously, Valentine was talking to the mole. Told the mole their names were Sid and Nancy. Made sure to highlight the point that Holden was Nancy. It was funny because Holden wouldn’t remember.

Then the exchange. The money for the room key. Stopped at a vending machine and bought two bottled waters. Found the room and shut and locked the door behind them. Valentine looked around. The room had a musty smell, but it appeared clean, and then when Holden went to the bathroom Valentine pointed out, “Hey there’s a mini fridge.” He walked over to the mini fridge and s**t. It was a one star hotel. The mini fridge was broken. Holden came out. His face wet with water Valentine held out a water bottle, “Here you need fluids…” but Holden came toward him saying. "[******** it. Your my b***h until we're killed. The ******** am I dying alone. That's bullshit. I ain't dying alone." Holden grabbed Valentine for support causing Valentine to drop the water bottles. “Oh how romantic Holden is this how you get girls?” Valentine said sarcastically as he turned his head. Just when Holden kissed him so sloppily.

Deja vu.

A rush of excitement. Being filled with lust. Valentine kissed back even though he shouldn’t have because once again Holden wouldn’t remember. Valentine could taste the blood on his tongue. Holden’s blood. Valentine’s fingers slid up Holden’s shirt feeling the warm flesh beneath the fabric. Holden’s whole body was burning up. Valentine’s went to Holden’s gun, grabbed it and dropped it to the floor. It was too dangerous for Holden to have it. What was he doing? Valentine froze up. His fingers grabbed hold of Holden’s shirt before pushing him back. It wasn’t hard to shove Holden back onto the bed. Gravity did most of the work. His heart pumping like an oil rig. Valentine walked hurriedly to the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth. Wet it with water and came back picking up the water bottle, “Drink this, and put this over your eyes. Relax.,” trusting both the water bottle and wash cloth in Holden’s hands.

“You just have to calm down…just sweat it out…” Valentine was saying. Ignoring the fact that they kissed again. Holden would forget anyways. Valentine wouldn’t forget. That’s why Holden was cruel. “Besides, we’re not dying, stupid. We won’t die. They won’t kill us. Stop being a scaredy-cat.” Valentine sat at the foot of the bed on the floor, back against the bed. Back turned to Holden. Couldn’t see Holden. There was only one bed. Valentine never specified a two bed bedroom…besides…two bed bedrooms cost more. Valentine didn’t have that much on him. Then Valentine laughed, “So much for your week of sobriety.” Valentine spoke still not looking at Holden. “Hurry up and become sober. It isn’t fun when only one of us is sober. It’s pretty selfish. You’re a selfish boy, Holden. Heartless too.”

[Cortisol]

J U L I A N



Be good. Was what Caleb told him and Julian became rigid. The door closed. Caleb was gone. Be good. The words just echoed in his head. Over and over. Be good, Julian. Julian was already good. Julian was good and polite and kind. He smiled and was obedient and respectful. Why did Caleb say that? Julian grabbed a fresh notebook and opened it to the first page. He wanted to write Caleb’s song but nothing came out. There was no inspiration. Not even one music note. Be good. Julian sat at the counter for a while. A long while, and when he stood up, because he wanted to crawl out on the fire escape and look at the city, somebody was knocking at the front door. Julian walked to the door, looked through the peaky-hole. He didn’t recognize the man standing there.

At first before Julian opened the door he thought it was Roger. Then when he opened the door his perspective changed. Once again Julian couldn’t actually see Allen. Everything on Allen’s face became morphed like a Picasso painting. For a while…for a while Julian was used to seeing Caleb’s face…but now he quickly realized the truth. This man knew who Julian was. Was it Roger? “It is a pleasure to meet you…Yes, I am Julian and you are…?” Julian asked, but then Allen grabbed his injured hand. Pressing his fingers. That wasn’t how you do a handshake. Small pain triggers went up his arm. The man never answered who he was. A proper introduction was necessary. Julian didn’t get one. Just released Julian’s hand and walked right into the apartment. Julian didn’t even seem bothered that the man walked around the apartment.

He closed the doors and walked a few feet. Stood with his hands behind his back, feet apart, upright, and balanced. Waiting. The man sat down. The man was beginning to morph into a wolf. Julian complied and sat down. Not slouching. Hands folded in his lap. Not speaking until spoken to. Then Allen began to speak. His words sounded foreign like he was speaking with an accent and it only took Julian a few moments before he grew accustomed to this man’s speech. Julian looked away for a moment, but then somebody was grabbing his jaw. Forcing Julian to lift his head up and stare into the eyes of the wolf. Julian was getting used to Allen’s accent. It…it…it belonged to Caleb. This man was calling Caleb an it? “By it…you’re referring to Caleb, correct, sir?” Julian asked for clarification. “You call your possessions…it? That’s fascinating.”

The man asked about fairness.

“Being fair is nothing more than perspective, sir…” but then when Julian paused Allen kept talking. Talking about Julian’s violin. Everything…everything didn’t add up. This man wasn’t Roger…it couldn’t be Roger. This man knew who Julian was. Roger only talked about Caleb. Julian’s deduction skills were still intact. It was borderline blackmail…right? Julian swallowed. “My violin is worth only worth fifty-thousand dollars…I offered to sell it…but Caleb told me not to sell it. I don’t want to go home…not yet…we made a deal…I would only stay here until my fingers heal.” This conversation seemed redundant. As if Julian had already had this conversation before. At another time. At another apartment.

Useless hands. Useless hands. “My hands aren’t useless, silly.” Julian said with a smile as if Allen was just joking. “These hands…these hands are worth millions…are your hands worth millions, sir? People love me…people like me. Have you ever stood in front of fifty thousand people when they clapped for you? I’m going to Julliard in the fall. I’ll write you a song…I’ll give you money…I’ll give you my violin. Anything. When I leave I won't ever see Caleb again. We come from different worlds. Just don’t make me go back…not yet, please.” Julian was at first pleasing, but then, then Julian became hypnotized. Staring at the face of the wolf often did that. Beady red eyes. Dripping fangs. Then Julian stood up and walked closer and closer towards the wolf.

"Or...or...you can slit my throat if you want, sir...Dying will be an awfully big adventure."

[U n d r a w n]

H o l d e n




"Oh how romantic Holden is this how you get girls?" Echoed through his head as he went in attempting a kiss. No. That was not how he got girls. Picking up chicks involved lots of booze and drugs first. Then they were too stupid to think straight. At least most of them. Holden only met a few girls at parties who weren't looking to get ******** up and become a slut. They were rare though. He felt Valentine's hand slip up his shirt and he ripped his sweat shirt off from his arms and threw it to the floor. He slowly felt himself falling backwards on the bed as Valentine sliced him down like a wood-cutter. Seriously. He could hear the timmbberrr as he plopped down on the bed. Valentine didn't fall down after him, though. Instead he turned and moved to the bathroom. [******** prude." He complained. Because, Valentine was like one of those sane girls at a party who didn't want to put out. He came back with a water bottle and a cloth telling him to put it over his eyes and relax. At first Holden thought he was about to get head, then Valentine began talking again about how Holden was just too sigh and he needed to 'sweat it out'.

Oh ******** you.

He brought the water to his face, dropping some in his mouth and some on his shirt. "I'll just act sober. Same s**t." He said scratching his face. "Then I'll be sober once I wake up for real." He put the cloth over his forehead. "No ******** that. I'm not sleeping. You'll ******** off again you b***h." Holden said quickly sitting up from the bed. He couldn't possibly let himself fall for the same trick twice. That was not okay. Now he'd play the waiting game with Valentine. Yup. He'd have to try and stay awake longer than Valentine. He couldn't forget about the whole scene that happened last time. Plus, this time Holden wouldn't have any pills to overdose on once he woke up again to find he was alone. In fact, he probably wouldn't even know where the ******** he was. He'd just wake up in some goddamn motel all alone with nothing to do but be all pissed off at Valentine for being a b***h. That wasn't what he wanted.

He stood up and went over to the foot to the bed where Valentine was sitting on the ground. He grabbed his arm and ripped him up pushing him towards the top of the bed. "You ******** sleep first." He demanded. He shoved a hand in his pocket as he stumbled forward picking up his sweatshirt with the other hand. He tossed it onto a chair and let out a sigh. "And I'm not... I'm not ******** scared." He said looking towards Valentine. "I ain't going down without a fight." He said sitting on the chair in the corner leaning his head against the wall a moment, before snapping it up sharply to look back at Valentine. "Just my options are either... ********'... I can stay with you and get gunned down since they're after you and that ******** lunchbox. Or, I can try and stay at the Safe House and fight off whoever the ******** wants to raid that ******** place. I can get gunned down there." Holden already knew it didn't matter. They wouldn't stop using the Safe House as the gang's home base no matter what. They had thousands and thousands of dollars worth of drugs in there and everyone saw Holden as a lunatic lately with his short temper. He gripped onto the armrest of the chair as he put his feet out kicking his shoes off. The two of them plopped to the floor.

"Or. Or. Or I can try and run from it all and be seen as a traitor and gunned down by my own ******** gang! ********. They'll all hate me." He put his gaze back on Valentine, and away from his shoes with two different shoe laces. "That's not ******** fear. I'm not afraid. I just know how to accept the ******** facts." He closed his eyes, his thought process going back to where it was ages ago. Going for help from the one person he hated more than anyone. Caleb. What would happen then? Caleb wasn't involved in the gang world. What would happen if he did that? "I always wanted to die with a bang." He said, trying to give himself a reason now to hunt the ******** down and ask for help. Anyone but Caleb. "Which would you rather die by?" He asked, knowing Valentine didn't exactly have a choice. Whoever he got the lunchbox from was already going to kill him before he had a chance to find another way to go. Unless he did suicide or something, but, that wasn't very manly. It was a pretty lame way to go, actually.

[Cortisol]

V A L E N T I N E

“Being sober and acting sober…isn’t the same…” Valentine said as an aside.

Holden spoke in profanity like it was an art and it only made Valentine smile internally. Internal smiles were probably the best smiles to have. Valentine would wait for Holden to fall asleep first and then Valentine would sleep he actually didn’t intend on leaving…not yet. Not this time. But, Holden thought Valentine was going to leave…again. Valentine could feel the bed move as Holden ripped himself up. Telling Valentine he wasn’t going to fall for that same s**t again. Fool me once shame on you…fool me twice and I’ll ******** kill you. Right? Holden grabbed his arm. It hurt as he dragged Valentine up and shoved him back on the bed. As if to say how the ******** do you like it? Point taken. How much did Holden remember that night anyways? Valentine was on the bed, and Holden was in the chair. “I’m not leaving, stupid. Not this time.” Valentine clarified as he began to kick his boots off, stripped from his coat and sitting crossed legged on the bed.

He turned his attention back to Holden, who was still sitting in the chair, in the corner. Holden wasn’t being suicidal he was back to fighting. Holden didn’t want to die without a fight. Good. Valentine never took his eyes off of Holden. “Options?” Valentine asked. Options were illusions of free will. Holden had options. All of his options ended in bloodshed. Holden could stay with him and be killed. Holden could stay in the safe house and be killed. Holden could run away and be killed. “Accepting the reality…I don't want to.” Valentine whispered. That no matter what they did…where they went…how much they ran…they would die regardless? Holden accepted that reality. He wasn’t afraid. Holden wasn’t afraid but Valentine didn’t want to accept it.

“I don’t like this question game…anymore.” Valentine continued as he plopped back on the bed. His head hitting the pillow. He stared up at the ceiling. The harder he stared the more abstract and colorful everything became. How would Valentine like to die? “I’d rather die with you probably. I don’t like anybody else. So, you can die with me too…it’s decided.” Let’s die together. It was just a hypothetical answer. Valentine wasn’t going to die…not yet…there had to be another road. The map was old and there had to be another road that wasn’t marked on the map. Valentine grabbed the other pillow and threw it at Holden’s face. Valentine then began to take off his pants. Tossed them to the floor and began unbuttoning his shirt. Kept the shirt on. Just unbuttoned. Then slid under the blankets. Everything was cold against his flesh. It felt good. Made him shiver. Cooled him down.

Somebody once told Valentine that everybody should be in love at least once before they die.

Laying on his side Valentine still looked at Holden. “Have you ever been in love with somebody, Holden? If we’re going to die…we have to make a new years resolution, obviously. We have to list all the things we want to do before we die. I’m running out of time…is it alright if I pretend to fall in love with you? It’s just platonic of course. It’s only natural to love your friends.” Valentine should have said it in a more clear way. Holden was the normalcy in Valentine’s life. A friend. Somebody who was once neutral. Somebody who helped him dispose of a body. Valentine would just pretend to fall in love. Pretending was easier. Make believe. Valentine thought of something funny and laughed. “Then again…I think I fell in love when I was five.” Back before things turned torturous inside the penthouse. “I held her hand under the monkey bars and kissed her on the lips. I had game at five.” Valentine rarely had any good memories. But they still existed. Somewhere in his ******** up mind.

Valentine had forgotten her name and couldn’t even remember her face. Just remembered the scene on the playground. Wearing school uniforms because both their parents paid too much for the school. “Your turn…you tell me a story, and what you want on our list.” Valentine wasn’t tired. He could talk until morning. If Holden wanted to play the game of who goes to sleep first than Valentine would play too.

[U n d r a w n]

A l l e n
















"My name is of no importance. You may call me 'Sir'." Allen explained when he was asked who he was. Julian was interested when Allen called Caleb an 'it'. He asked if it was Caleb, then if possessions were it. "Yes." Was the simple answer he had to the questions. Both of them. Julian began to speak. He spoke too much. He went on a rant much longer then he should have been about how he could sell his violin, and didn't want to go home yet. Allen already knew this. Robert had told him that was the deal, he was already clear of that. Repeating the story didn't make it any less fair or not.

Julian didn't want to believe his hands were useless. They were broken. They were defective. Of course they were useless. The mistake the child made was trying to tell Allen he was worth more than him. "Oh?" Allen stood up and wiped his shirt off lightly. "Or... Or... You can slit my throat if you want, sir... Dying will be an awfully big adventure." He reached in his pocket and pulled out a knife. "Slit your throat? Well what a masochistic little boy you are." He said as he ran his fingers along the blade. He moved forward and wrapped his hand around the red strands of hair and brought him towards the couch, dropping him down. Julian would love Allen. Allen could easily make this boy feel like he had a purpose. He could make this boy enjoy begging for his life and began rewarded by a simple pat on the head and being allowed to live another day. "I am not that kind." He said lightly brushing the blade against his neck. He took the boy's wrist and pulled his arm back in an uncomfortable position, twisting it awkwardly so if he tried to struggle he would do nothing but risk breaking his arm. He lightly rested the blade against his ring finger.

"Who would love you without your precious fingers?" He asked slowly digging the blade into the side of his finger. Julian's hands were worth nothing. People were fools. "What college will offer you scholarships? What parents will be proud? What crowds will pay to watch?" He asked, whispering the words into the boy's ear. "I would never allow you to die, and have such an easy way out. I would much rather force you to endure your hell on earth." He said lightly moving the blade. He could feel the boy's skin breaking lightly against the blade. He wasn't pressing hard or moving the blade fast enough to do any real damage, but now the boy would have a small cut on his finger. To remind him Allen could ruin him. He released his arm from the uncomfortable position, allowing Julian to keep his arm in tact. He didn't want to injure him or Caleb would quickly connect the dots. He did not want Caleb to know he was having contact with Julian yet. He wanted to save that and hold it over his head for blackmail later.

"Julian," Allen stated placing the blade back into his pocket. "You are worthless." He said leaning over the boy. "Nobody likes you. How can you say Caleb even enjoys your company? Do you honestly think it is allowing you to stay with it for nothing?" He carefully kept eye-contact looking at the boy's face. He pulled out the folded up newspaper article form his pocket. "This is written for you." It was another missing notice. His parents begging somebody to bring him home. To find their precious little gold mine. "How much money do you think they'd offer once they found out your fingers were gone?" He placed the article down on the couch as he sat on the opposite side from Julian. He figured he'd keep reminding Julian how the only reason anyone cared for him was because of his curse with music. His curse of being a fortune. "Caleb simply wants money." He explained. "Do you think it cares for you? Caleb cares for nobody but myself. He left his family willingly, he does not keep friends, you see... Caleb is a lunatic. I try to keep him in control." He said, a sympathetic tone stringing his words together. "He is going to keep you, and wait for the bounty to rise. The moment they name a price high enough it will hand you over and force you to go back home." Which really didn't sound all that horrible a thought. Allen could only take guesses on what Julian's parents were like. If there was one thing everybody knew rich parents tended to not be the most loving. Money put a gap between love.

"Going back home after being gone so long must mean they will want to tie you down to stop you from leaving again, isn't it?" His sympathetic tone came back, "Perhaps like a prison."

[Cortisol]

J U L I A N



“All the great artists…and musicians…committed suicide. Isn’t it romantic?” Julian said as his eyes glossed over. Julian had a romantic relationship with suicide. The blade came out and Julian stared at it. Excitation filled Julian as the hand grabbed his hair in the most unkindly of ways and then his arm was being twisted back. Would his arm become broken? Julian could still play with a broken arm…the importance were the fingers. Then the blade pressed against his ring finger. Julian didn’t move. Was he going to be ripped apart? Then the words came…I would never allow you to die…Julian smiled. Allen wasn’t the first one to say this to Julian. His mother told Julian this which was why Julian was never left alone. His mother loved Julian’s fingers. His fingers kept her lifestyle comfortable. His father loved Julian’s fingers. His fingers made connections for his father and improved his business. Where would they be without Julian?

Julian could feel the familiar feeling of the blade puncturing skin and blood trickling out. Endorphins being released filling Julian with a warmness of pleasure.

You are worthless. Came the whispering. Nobody likes you. Then the newspaper article came out as the man slipped it on the couch and in front of Julian. Julian’s eyes scanned over the print. Julian wanted to rip up the newspaper. But, he had to be good. Had to behave. His fingers brushed against the paper. Tracing his name in big bolded text. Julian Laurent was such a beautiful name. He belonged in headlines more often. Then the man began to talk about Caleb some more. “You’re lying. If you’re going to lie you then intend to have some benefits, what benefits are you attempting to gain from lying, sir?” Julian said finally as he turned his attention from the newspaper article to the wolf. Julian could become a monster if he wanted to. The wolf reminded Julian of his parents. Julian wanted to be good…but this man…this wolf…was backing him up into a corner.

“You see Caleb as your toy. Only you can play with your toy, break your toy, love your toy, and ******** your toy. You get jealous if your toy plays with somebody else’s toy, because then you’re losing control.” Julian continued in a voice that wasn’t his usual polite and eloquent nature. His voice was dark. Julian and Caleb were both broken toys that found each other in the playroom. Almost like somebody flipped a switch. His fingers began to crumple the newspaper slowly. But, Julian wasn’t done talking yet. “Let’s pretend that what you’re saying is true. I’ll humor you.” Julian please be good…don’t it’s dangerous. Behave. People won’t like you if you act like this. “The bounty raises and Caleb turns me in…it’s only obvious that my parent’s will press charges and arrest Caleb, and if that happens I will obviously have to lie. Benefits. Caleb will be thrown and jail…and where would that leave you? Your toy has been taking away. You would want to kill me.” Julian didn't want to say these things. He wanted Caleb home. He wanted to see Caleb smiling. Caleb would hate Julian...hate him for the things Julian is saying right now.

The newspaper had been crumpled but it still wasn’t enough. Julian began ripping it to shreds. A million little pieces if he so chooses. “I bet you already thought of that scenario and hundreds of others, right, sir? So…let’s just skip to the end…and you tell me what you want in return for not turning me in yourself? Otherwise things just get redundant.” Julian had to be a good boy...had to behave. Had to listen. Julian didn’t belong to Allen…Julian was already owned by somebody else. Julian could be defiant. Could even misbehave. Then Julian’s facial features softened and that smile came back on his lips.

“I am Julian Laurent, sir. What can you do to me? Do you want me to become one of your 'it's'? I already belong to somebody else."

[U n d r a w n]

H o l d e n




”Yeah well it’s the same concept.” Holden said with a shrug. Sober? High? Who gave a s**t? It didn’t really matter. He sighed. Valentine said he wasn’t leaving, and Holden wasn’t an idiot. It wasn’t like he trusted any ******** a*****e. Caleb used to say that, ‘I’m not leaving for a while. It’s okay. Don’t worry everything is fine.’ Then the next morning he’d be gone. Or, Holden would find him drooling on the bathroom floor having a drug induced seizure. Caleb was a ******** manipulative b*****d. It was his fault Holden didn’t trust anyone. He blamed all his problems on him. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t mention on how he thought Valentine was all bullshit.

”Well duh. Nobody wants to die alone.” Holden mentioned, as if that were an obvious fact. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He began asking about love. ”Me?” He asked. He’d never had anyone ask if they could pretend to fall in love with him. ”Pfft. Don’t get all ********... ********] Soft of him? He couldn’t even find the right word he could tell this soon-to-be-dead kid. ”Yeah.” Holden finally answered softly. He didn’t care if he pretended to be in love. He had already tried to ******** Valentine twice already. Why not? Holden raised an eyebrow as he told the story of some kindergarden love story Valetnine had. His first romance. ”Wow. What a player.” He said laughing. He didn’t know why he was laughing so hard. It wasn’t even that funny.

“Your turn... You tell me a story, and what you want on our list.”

He calmed himself down, after he was finished laughing he was just breathing heavily a moment trying to catch his breath. ”A story?” He asked. What story could Holden tell? ”Once in middle school. It was April Fools Day.” He said smiling at the thought. ”Me and my friend decided we’d prank our teacher by getting into a fight. We walked into the classroom and I bumped into him like we planned. Then, he fake-punched me. And I punched him back and I like hit him hard by accident. And it turned into a real fight. And he ended up grabbing one of the chairs smacking me over the head before it was finally broken up.” He said laughing. Holden used to get suspended from school a lot. A school councilor used to talk to him a lot trying to figure out why he was acting out. She came to the conclusion it was because his father was never around and he felt abandoned. He never told her it was because of Caleb. ”Half the class thought it was an April Fools joke and the other half was like freaking out. This one girl started crying.” He grabbed his shoes kicking them off to the side near the wall. Then he stood up and moved to the bed, falling backwards to lay down next to Valentine. ”You know it was tradition in my house to never make new year resolutions. My mom always said... My mom... s**t.” He leaned his head back against the bed blankets.

”I know most people hate their family and crap. But my ******** mom. I love that lady. I used to stop by each week and drop off money but I ******** forgot the past few weeks.” He said trying to pin point what point in time he stopped going. Visiting Caleb at the hospital. Once again he ripped the family apart. Holden hoped she could afford everything okay. ”But before I die... I always wanted to...” He tried to think of what he always wanted to do. ”I never went swimming before.” He stated. ”I used to play in fire hydrants and s**t but like I’ve never gone in water before for real. I wanna go swimming before I die. I feel like I'd be good at that and crap.” Everyone used to crack open fire hydrants for fun back in the day. That was the life back then. You needed nothing but a little ******** water to enjoy yourself. Grabbing water guns playing war with the kids on the block. Now when people played guns it was with bullets. Now Holden and Valentine were play cops and robbers with the heroin dealers. When they get caught it'll be a, BANG BANG. Then they'll fall to the ground and pretend to die before going to jail waiting to get tagged back into the game.

[U n d r a w n]

A l l e n
















Julian was already well trained. He was the perfect high-class prostitute and didn't even know it yet. Would Allen ever use him for some prostitution ring? No. He would never do that. Not with this boy. He was clearly worth more than a couple hundred dollars an hour. Allen was a business man. He understood who and what belonged where. Allen also got the feeling he would be horrible at ******** strangers. Anyone who spoke of suicide as romantic obviously did not belong at the base of some stranger's c**k. "You're lying." He went on asking what Allen wanted to gain out of beginning to attempt some manipulation over this boy's head. "You get jealous if your toy plays with somebody else's toy, because then you're losing control." Allen smiled and lightly plucked his cellphone from his pocket. His eyes averted to the phone and he typed out a text as he listened to the words the boy spoke. Caleb being sent to jail for returning a lost boy? "Do you honestly think your parents would punish the one to return their precious son?" He asked as he lightly placed the phone open on the coffee table. Just encase Julian wanted to read it. That was a stupid thing to think. Their parents would worship the ground Caleb walked upon. Julian already made it obvious he was a highly wanted individual. As long as he was given back without any harm, no trouble would come to the person handing him over.

To Caleb
Message: Come to my home after you're finished.

The text read. A simple subtitle threat to address the 'loss of control' statement. Allen had no loss of control. Caleb would go to his loft and return back late at night covered in bruises and whatever else Allen decided to do with him. If Julian kept running his mouth, Allen would send the message and have Caleb pay for the young boy's mistake. "What can you do to me? Do you want me to become one of your 'it's?" Allen took the blade out from his pocket again and placed it on the coffee table next to his phone. He waited three seconds before picking up the phone and shutting it, without sending the message. He slipped it into his pocket and then faced Julian once more. "Everything I want, is already mine." He explained. He could not simply tell Julian everything he was going to cause to happen in the near future, everything he wanted. That would ruin the entire point. He left the knife laying out on the coffee table for the boy to take. Perhaps it would come in handy next time he felt like cutting himself. The masochistic boy could use all the help he could get.

He moved towards the door and adjusted his hat. "Goodnight, Julian. It was a pleasure meeting you." That was all he needed to say. That was all he needed to do. He didn't want to over stay his welcome, of course. Now that would be rude. He wasn't Allen opened the door, lightly closing it behind himself as he walked down the hall. He moved down the stairs and opened up the front doors that lead out into the city streets. He called down a taxicab and got a ride back to his loft. Once inside he went up the stairs leading to his second level. He went into the bedroom and changed his clothes.