Chapter 2

Pete leaned up against the wall, allowing himself fall onto it, and finally letting out the sigh that had built up in his throat. The bedroom door was closed behind him, leaving the hallway in darkness. His body continued to crumple, until his forehand hit the wall, harder than he had meant it to, or not quite hard enough.

He could still feel fingers digging into his wrists, he hadn’t checked but was sure there would be deepening red marks. A gentle pulse from blood returning to the skin was a booming reminder, growing louder and louder, tracing every move and every touch across each vein.

He closed his eyes, pushing his head further into the wall. The images in his mind swirled around in bright, red light, casting shadows that distorted the face he could see moving down towards him. He could see Vegas’s sideways smile, twisting across his face, at first so handsome, but then leering down at Pete.

He shook his head. It wasn’t true, that image. He knew Vegas, his Vegas, he held onto a vision in his mind of the man he loved, and aimed his thought to the memories of months ago, rather than his fears of what had just happened.

He thought of Vegas reaching out to him, a sweet, slight smile controlling his lips, a gentle stroke across Pete’s arm. Pete would turn to him, immediately and without thought, as always, lost to Vegas. In these moments where Vegas was kind, sending shocks through Pete with his slow moving fingertips, a soft kiss lingering on Pete’s lips, it would make him forget everything. For a while.

But then, the knowledge scars across his chest and stomach, and the absent way he spent each day, lost from where he’d felt was home, would never stay away for long.

Today had been difficult. Pete had wandered around the large, echoing house, searching through rooms he’d stood in so many times. He’d leafed through books and flicked through channels, and returned to each room again, as always hoping to find something that would give him meaning. But following him around these days were the obstinate words that pounded into him in time with his footsteps.

Why are you still here?

Of course, Pete knew the answer as soon as Vegas returned for the day. Never telling him where he’d been or what he’d done, simply smiling and presenting a bag of food or snacks, sometimes a present he knew Pete would love. Pete forgot it all, in those moments. 

Sometimes Pete would say ‘let me come with you tomorrow, I can help you,’ but Vegas would shake his head and reach out for Pete’s neck, pulling him close, not giving him a choice, and kissing him, leaving Pete wondering if he even wanted that choice.

Today, Vegas had brought nothing, he was agitated, pacing the bedroom floor and circling closer and closer to Pete, who perched on the edge of their bed.

Pete tensed as Vegas came closer, he felt himself shrinking, and Vegas towering, even though they were the same height. Pete asked what was wrong, but he knew it was useless. He told himself that it would be alright, it was always alright after, that these moments were becoming fewer and shorter, that he could take it.

But Vegas just kept circling, as if baiting Pete into making a move first. Did he want Pete to leave him? Was Vegas finally pushing him away?

So, this day, Pete decided to move first. He stood and walked slowly towards Vegas, approaching a wounded, terrifying animal. He told himself that this was his love, the man he had left everything for, and convinced himself enough to manage a smile, full and filled with sunshine only he could manifest. Pete had always been so full of joy and willing to be in the moment, the first to find a joke or a positive take. He was loosing it here, that childlike joyous self, but he couldn’t admit to that now.

He stood in front of Vegas and reached out, cradling Vegas’s neck and moving towards him to kiss first his cheek, then down his jaw, and to his mouth. He could feel Vegas’s rage, his body shaking under Pete’s grip, but for a moment Vegas’s lips parted, and Pete slid his tongue into Vegas, gently caressing him. Vegas took the kiss, melting, so slightly, into Pete. For a moment, the joy of Pete’s old self returned, he felt his true smile laced through the kiss, his heartbeat racing, and himself becoming hard as he pressed up against Vegas’s body.

Then he was flying.

Across the room and onto the bed.

He clung to the hope that it was fun, and Vegas would leap on him, laughing, and hold him. They would be like they had been when they first left the hospital. Pete let his mind drift back those first weeks. Walking into this house, cold and musty even under the hot sun. Vegas took his hand and said they’d open all the windows, and the warm air would shake every bad memory out of every corner. He’d smiled at Pete, his beautiful, open smile that made Pete stop them both in their tracks, and sink down to the hallway floor.

Pete thought of that moment, Vegas letting him lead, giving Pete what he wanted, their arms wrapped around each other, laughing and crying out together. The memory weakened though, as Vegas’s fist rammed into Pete’s stomach.

Now, in the hallway outside the bedroom, Pete wished himself to meld with the wall, to become a part of this house’s bricks, to seep into the foundations, travel cross the gardens and go out into the lake that ran outside. He’d been taken here twice now, at first by force, and this time by his pure love for Vegas. The same place where his scars had bitten into him and clung on, the same house he had thought he would die in, as it sat serenely by the lake.

He heard Vegas behind him, but didn’t turn. He felt Vegas lace his arms around his stomach, and Pete winced as the still forming bruises there tried to cower away.

Vegas’s breath was warm and comforting on Pete’s neck. His voice was low and soft. No apology, there never was. Just a simple question; ‘have you eaten?’ 

Pete couldn’t answer.

’I can get you something, I’ll cook that dish you liked last week.’ His voice was honey, his touch soft and warm.

Pete felt his head move backwards, leaning now against Vegas, instead of the wall. His eyes remained closed, but he let himself melt into the man he still loved. Pete fought against every thought, good and bad, to just let himself be held, and loved back.

But the one thought that permeated Vegas’s skin, now surrounding Pete, was one that had stood next to Pete since he’d come back to this house. No; since he’d first ran from this house, bloody and weak.

Was it the pain that made Pete cum, or the expectation of the sweetness that Vegas would always bring after Pete took it, again and again?