A bright pretty face, startlingly blue eyes and a slender petite body, dressed with subtle effeminate confidence. He met Rep's eyes and smiled, seeming to wish to share his good day with all the world.
"The ******** you looking at you ******** f*****t?"
Fear intruding on that bright smile, he stopped, gathering his hands to his chest, startled. A slight pulse visible on a slender attractive neck. He could practically smell the fear.
"N..nothing.. I'm just.. I'm just going home."
The voices of his friends, laughing, goading. Go get him Rep, go ******** him up. He'd never noticed their mocking tones at the time. He leaned in close to him. Warm. Near. Intimate. Threatening. The guy was wearing cologne, it smelled wonderful.
"Ye are still ******** looking at me."
"S..sorry."
He knew he looked intimidating, it was what he thrived on, an image of masculinity. He watched the other man back away. He moved forward into the space left behind, hand reaching for his pocket, the knife waiting there. He could still hear his friends.
He wondered what it would be like to kiss that throat.
It was the guy's fault, he told himself, for being the way he was, for confusing him.
"Too ******** late. You won't do it again."
A splash of crimson red as he drove the knife in, ruining that form hugging shirt. For a moment a closeness, a parody of intimacy as he retrieved it. The stunned silence of his friends.
"The ******** you waiting for? RUN. Before we get ******** caught!"
He tried to sit up with a start as he woke. Agony, like he'd been stabbed. Had it been him who'd been stabbed?
No. No. He was.. He was Rep. He was alive. The injury in his side had almost killed him. Too close, much too close. He opened his eyes, looking around. Thank ******** god it was quiet. He didn't even know why he'd been crying in his sleep, and as he tried to bring an arm up to wipe away the shameful tears, another stab of agony. His shoulder.
He looked over with slow dread. Oh god his tatts. They'd never be the same.
The dream wouldn't leave him, it lingered. He tried to forget those days, the more he tried to forget, the more it pursued him. He'd have preferred to dream about the theme park.
He should never have gone on a mission as tired as he was. They should have run. They should have done so many things. But what was it he'd said to Reine? Don't dwell on the should haves? It wasn't so easy to do.
He looked around the room he was in, trying to think about anything other than the lingering thoughts, the intensity of the dream, the unnerving sensation that he'd been both of the people in it. He wished there was someone here, anyone here. He hated this place, alone and sterile. He could still feel the icy claws in his scalp, sinking deeper and deeper.
His hand shook as he wiped his eyes. He needed to get it together. Strength, it was all about strength, the strong survived. He had survived, he had to keep going.
The faint sleeping presence of Tracey could be felt in his mind. For a change he didn't wake him. The angel had saved his life, if anyone deserved rest, it was him.
He needed to think about something else.
Reaching for his phone he wrote out two texts. It helped to pretend he was fine.
Jordan
Lol. Was in mission gone wrong. In life labs. Do you have any books. Bored.
He wanted almost to ask for a colouring book but he somehow doubted Jordan would have anything of the sort. He seemed better at books. A teacher he thought he'd heard Candace say. He could believe it. He'd certainly taught him more than he thought he could learn.
Harrison
Got owned in mission. Stuck in life labs. Blame you for not coming along. biggrin
Marcus had done his best in the situation, Rep didn't blame him, he had tried to save Sasha. It was just..easier to joke this way. They had survived, that was all that mattered.
Rin
Beaten up again. In life labs. Clean my room.
He smiled faintly as he sent them. He wasn't sure why it made him feel better, at least for the time being.
He was glad he got to speak to them again. Unlikely friends in an unlikely place. But there was guilt there, deep seated guilt like a sleeping dragon he didn't dare wake. So many times in the past he'd blamed people for getting him started, for winding him up. The doubt was there and present that it was his fault. There was something wrong with him. There was something in his head that he'd blamed on other people. If it had been back home, would he be friends with who he was, or would he have done something terrible out of fear, out of that deep terror at what he felt when he was around them?
What did he really want? What did he even feel? He didn't know any more and it was making it harder to fight, harder to focus. He should have been thinking about the battles to come but he was thinking about this. Fractured, muddled.
But it was hard to even think properly. He tired so ******** quickly, the cold sense of the fear claws intensifying as it became harder to stay concious, the pain drugs easing the way as he closed his eyes for what began as just a moment's rest and was followed by him letting his phone drop onto the bed as he slipped back into fitful sleep once more.
