Kairos - Blood (MxM) | Book 2 | ✅

35.Playfield

Tell Jack. Get Henry into trouble. That bruise near Henry's mouth came to mind. And what would Jack do to him now if he finds out about my Crimson sort of threesome?

Don't tell Jack. Feel like scum. What a selfish thing to do anyway... Revealing you've been unfaithful does nothing for the one you've cheated on.

It could show trust. It could show regret.

It could also show you were a jerk who had thought he could get away with cheating on technicalities. Because technically I haven't done the sucking nor the fucking.

Tell. Don't tell. Be honest. Tell half-truths. White lie. Wreck the trust.

My thoughts dashed swiftly from argument to argument like balls smacking bumpers and kickers inside a pinball machine.

And as I entered the hotel lobby it became more and more difficult to keep the balls inside the playfield.

Golden and green glittered from moldings and subtle decorations across tall arching walls. The floor was a marble mirror reflecting the world back at me and every person inside that place came in twos. Except for Henry who stood by the elevator on a square honey carpet.

Without a word, he took my gray coat and white scarf.

I fiddled with a button cuff from under my suit jacket sleeve. Was my tie crooked? I glanced at my reflection in the metallic elevator.

Ding! Once the doors opened, in we went.

"He might kill me," Henry pondered out loud as if discussing the weather.

"He won't." I shuddered unable to actually consider the possibility.

Before I knew it, we were standing in front of a black door.

"I might not tell him anything."

"I know, sir." Henry walked past me and joined the other guard at the window where a few armchairs surrounded a small cherry table.

Knock. Knock.

"He said you should come in anytime you arrive," the other bodyguard spoke up.

I looked sideways and met Henry's eyes. A smile crossed my face — a failed attempt at reassuring my soldier.

Still a pinball playfield, my mind had yet to settle when I stepped into the room.

Empty.

Gently, I shut the door behind me.

Shades of brown, yellow and green swallowed me whole. Rustic, yet in sharp modern angles and uneven lines, the furniture varied from what you'd expect in a bedroom, to what a living area might hold.

A quick investigation brought me closer to the only other door in sight - the bathroom door. The shower was running and, at intervals, some faint humming echoed inside.

My suit jacket landed on the backrest of a nearby chair. My tie draped over a drawer. My shoes huddled under an end table.

I debated entering the bathroom, maybe joining Jack in the shower, or waiting for him in bed. Both felt wrong and cheap in ways I couldn't quite describe.

So I settled on sitting on the floor with my back against the bathroom door, keeping a patient ear glued to the sounds he made.

Occasionally, Jack sang old tunes under the cover of falling water. I had heard him a few times before.

But not this time. There were only those odd hums.

The shower stopped running.

Those hums became clearer, deeper, stranger.