Playing The Victims [BL]

Chapter Eighty-Five | Third World

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His dream was constrictive. He felt like he was being suffocated— by what? He wasn't sure. He was tirelessly running further and further, with no goal in mind other than to get away from whatever it was that was chasing him. His chest felt like it had a clamp around it as his limbs ached from how tense his body was.

Whatever was behind him was gaining. That thought screamed into focus. The open stretch he was running through suddenly became boggy. His feet sank into the restrictive embrace of nature. Yanking his foot away he tried to free himself but lost a boot instead. But he wasn't free for long, the bog rapidly turned into a substance like quick-sand. Dragging him downwards.

Gulping the air that suddenly felt limited, Niklas looked to the sky as it stated raining. It grew heavier in seconds; pelting down on him as he remained stuck where he was. He couldn't shield himself from the barrage of water and soon started gasping. Panic riddled his body as he began to drown.

He clawed at the ground, frantically trying to pull himself out of the pit.

"Baby, why are you panicking?" A honeyed voice seemed to cut through the treacherous conditions and whisper into his ear. The familiarity caused Niklas to go immediately still. He turned his head and saw the figure that still haunted his dreams.

The first thing he saw as his lashes captured thick droplets of water, was the young man's soft smile. His pinkish lips stretched into an enchanting curve and quite like the rest of his body, went untouched by their surroundings. He was soft featured; a complete enigma in a world ensnared with brutality. Just the sight of him pained the man who stood in a vulnerable state. Like always, whenever the other man appeared in his dreams he was rendered stricken.

No, stricken wasn't right. More like smitten.

The figure was still smiling, seemingly completely unaware of Niklas' struggles. He crouched down so he stood at eye-level and ran a dainty hand through the soldier's damp hair. The touch felt so real— just as he remembered it. And it ripped him up inside. The fact that the young man was a hairs-breadth away from him and yet he was unable to reach him was torture. But it was a fine line between wanting to kiss him or strangle him if he did get free.

Small brown curls fell over one of the man's baby blue eyes. "I'm so proud of you, my sweet. Look how strong you've become." He whispered and gestured around them to the falling rain. His praise rattled Niklas, shredding the haze of attraction that blocked his emotions.

"You—! I was nothing but an experiment to you." Niklas spat while straining to speak. What felt like a hand tightly grasping his throat, prevented him from screaming at the man who stood so close. But his harsh words did nothing to deter the calm smile on Josef's face.

"It's because I loved you so much that I thought you would be the perfect person."

"No one," Niklas rasped as his eyes began to feel heavy, "would do what you did to someone they loved."

Josef sighed, looking saddened. "I thought you would have forgiven me after what I gave up for you."

Niklas shook his head profusely, "You gave nothing up that wasn't already planned by your boss."

The attractive young scientist blinked his eyes and with each time they became wetter. Gradually, tears began to fall. Merging with the barrage of water around them. "I never planned for you to kill me, Niklas." There was a quiver in his voice and it struck the soldier hard.

His acting was superb, just as it always had been. He appeared just as innocent as Niklas remembered; the same features that immediately drew him in. The tenderness that ensnared his heart. And the black soul that sacrificed him to experimentation.