To Hide and To Seek [Book 4, BoyxBoy]

Chapter 1

FINALLY HAD SOME IDEAS ABOUT WHERE THIS IS GOING, SO HERE'S THE FIRST CHAPTER! Hope you enjoy c: 

Izazya's POV

1700hrs

I glanced at my wrist watch; 17:03. I sighed, taking a sip from my drink and placing it back down, wrinkling my nose in disgust. The drinks were definitely not on the list of things this bar had going for it. The walls were tabacco-stained, crumbling and just plain dirty; the floor was plain wood, with flecks of concrete and dry dirt covered pretty much every inch of it. The smell of cigarette smoke and bodily odour filled the air. Yeah, it didn't have much going for it at all. But, it was somewhere warm; somewhere we could keep our heads down and watch from a distance. There was a clear exit diagonal from us in case of a clusterfuck. God damn, I'm glad I'd learnt to stay near the exit since last time - it's not easy to find your way out of a dark place when you're stunned and wounded.

The memory of war made me absent mindedly touch the wound on my chest; right above my heart - a constant reminder of how close death was. Just one step behind, and should you stumble and fall flat on your face; buddy, you're fucking screwed. I laughed quietly to myself; how ever I'd managed to survive this long was beyond me.

And then I remembered. Joseph Greenwood was my reason to surive. Without him, I'd of been shot a billion times by now and dragged into the bottomless, fiery pits of hell. Whilst I was out here, fighting for my life and billions of other lives, he was at home. I wondered what he was doing; maybe curled up in front of the fire, sketching or writing...

And then I remembered.

Joseph Greenwood wasn't at home anymore.

Joseph Greenwood was out in the darkness, maybe fighting for his life. Maybe he was in a dark room, maybe he was hurt.

"What'cha thinking about Izzy?" I heard Nixon ask over the screetch of Jessie J on the TV in the corner of the room. I could barely hear him - we couldn't let anyone know we were speaking English. I looked at him and sighed.

"Joe," I admitted. Nixon rolled his eyes and gave me a look of disgust.

"We're defending our country and you're worrying about him?" he asked harshly. I could only nod. "You're pathetic. I thought better of you, Izazya."

"Shut up," I replied, my voice sharper than I had meant it to be. That's when Nixon got to his feet, leaning over the table and staring me straight in the face.

"Tell me to shut up again and I'll have your boyfriend killed." Nixon almost growled. I didn't ever take well to threats, and I certainly didn't approve of this one. I stood up slowly and turned to face him fully. I reached out suddenly, grabbing a handful of his hair and slamming it onto the solid oak table. With that, he fell to the floor - completely unconscious. I didn't know what even made me think I should do that, and I don't know what possessed me to carry that out. But I felt no guilt; I felt absolutely nothing.

When I looked up, the entire bar was silent. Every living thing in there was looking at me; burning holes into me with their accusatory glares. I glanced around, taking in every face; every feature of the room surrounding them. They'd all be dead soon, and I'd be the one killing them.

I reached into my jacket; my finger sliding easily onto the trigger of the Glock 18 in my inside pocket, the rest of my fingers wrapping securely around the hilt.

"What are you staring at?" I asked, my voice raising to a yell by the word at. "What are you staring at?!"

I heard the door open, and footsteps. I turned, pulling the Glock from my pocket and aiming instantly. My finger somehow slipper from the trigger, and I stared at the person who had just walked into the bar.