White Outside, Red Underneath [Vegaspete]

Chapter 14: Close

 Pete hadn't seen Vegas for two days. Since he left him alone, confused and frustrated in the basement gym. First, he thought he did it on purpose. To make Pete look like this unviable, lost fool. But after he went upstairs to get some real food into his system, he realized how quiet the house was. It wasn't that calm, liberating silence he heard last night, no. It was rather the lull before the storm.

 The kind of tranquility that kills eventually. It doesn't bring danger, but it is its hall.

 It persisted for two days.

 On the first day - the day of the fight in the gym - Pete was bored. So the only thing he could think of besides eating was... work. He needed to get back in the saddle after all. With the sudden power change in his business, he could not afford to remain idle. The facility can stand on its own for a few days, but it's risky. He needed to be present if he wanted people to respect him.

 So on the first day, a plan was formulated for him.

 By the second day, he heard the silence but found it unbearable. No one talked to him for hours and he hated to admit it but he would even be satisfied with having a conversation with Vegas. He had to get out of this freaking house before he would go insane.

 Wanting to talk to Vegas was already absurd, leading him to believe he might have missed the opportunity to stay rational. So, instead of lying in bed for another twenty-four hours, he decided to take action.

 It didn't mean he would go and beg for company, no. Not to his husband, and not directly. But he could do something that would earn him human interaction.

 So he got ready and left the room.

 Again, the silence was freezing. Anxiety trumped Pete's veins as he walked down the corridor. He chose a dark outfit, a black hoodie paired with black pants. It was the ideal attire, as he had no desire for attention.

 Stepping out of the house, he noticed a few men standing guard by the gate. It was usual, so he didn't give it much thought. With no intention to hide the fact that he was going out, he approached the exit.

 While the purpose was not to seem like a runaway, his habits won. He walked with his head low and hands in the hoodie's pocket. He felt that one of the guards would block his path before he actually saw it. The front of a black pair of shoes made him raise his eyes.

 "You can't leave the compound, boy," a previously unknown man said. He was older - much older than Pete himself. His forehead was only slightly wrinkled, but his hair contained a lot more than just a few strands of gray hair.

 He also clearly didn't know who Pete was - which made the both of them smile. The only difference was the intention behind it. The man's smile reflected a repellent motive, and it was proved right with the next sentence that left his mouth. "Of course, I can make an exception for such a pretty boy."

 That was the moment Pete decided he would kill the old fool.

 "Oh, yeah? What would I need to do?" Pete clicked his tongue to his upper lip, playing along.

 "I'll show you, don't stress yourself. I'm sure you'll be great at it," the man's smile deepened, showing the way with his hands. Pete went ahead, already thinking about the other's painful death. What's it to Vegas if he kills someone who'd already lived enough? It was even surprising he wasn't murdered before, given that he was a disgusting-

 A firm squeeze on his butt disturbed him in his thoughts. He was too shocked to react immediately, but after it clicked, he acted almost impulsively.

 He twisted the old man's arms to the side, catching him off guard. The latter's body turned around on its own, Pete didn't even have to strive.

 Pete's face turned into a fiery shade of red, his lungs were boiling with anger. He could not imagine how hard he was holding the man's wrist, but it must have been tight because the man cried painfully. Pathetic.