Demons, Witches, and Toads (BoyxBoy)

Feelings and Questions

Author's Note: Thank you guys so much for 100k reads on this story! It means so much!!!

Wheeler made his way back into his room, stifling a yawn as he entered.

"You're back unusually late," Priscilla observed as he stepped inside, her head popping up from behind a copy of A Dangerous Thirst.

"Lilith and I were decorating a birdhouse for Mister Pumpernickel," Wheeler said with a grin. "I think he's going to really like it!"

"You and Lilith?" Priscilla repeated, arching a brow. "Together? All night?"

Wheeler blinked. "Yeah?" Priscilla was giving him a strange look. "Is there... something wrong with that?"

"No, not really, I suppose. I'm just uh... kinda surprised." Priscilla slowly lowered her book. "How was it?"

"Fun," Wheeler answered cheerfully. "She's really nice."

"And you treated her well, right?" Priscilla asked, crossing her arms. "To be a proper lover you have to make sure your lady is satisfied too. That's super important."

Wheeler's entire face went red. "Wait...lover?!"

"Yeah," Priscilla said. "Didn't you sleep together?"

"NO!" Wheeler screeched.

"Wait... so you really spent all night building a house for a toad?" Priscilla laughed. "Pfft, oh my God, you really are a dweeb."

Wheeler buried his face in his hands. "I can't believe you'd think I'd... I'd do something like that."

"What? Sex?"

"Yes," Wheeler squeaked, still blushing profusely.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Priscilla said with a shrug. "It's not like we're kids anymore."

Wheeler sunk onto the bed beside her. "I know that," he mumbled. "It's just that... I feel so dirty and gross for even thinking about those kinds of things."

Priscilla let out a knowing sigh. "Is it the thoughts themselves or the person they're directed towards?"

A heavy silence hung in the air.

They both already knew the answer.

"I know it's wrong," Wheeler said softly. "He's my close friend and for me to... to think of him in that way is super horrible and messsed up."

His mind returned to those men at the Oculus, recalling how they'd looked at Mulock so hungrily, how desperately they'd wanted him. Wheeler flinched at the thought that he could desire someone he held so dear the same way as those monsters.

"When I turned fifteen," Wheeler said slowly, "there was a girl I met at a village fair." His gaze flickered to his feet. "We went off together and we kissed and uh... did a little bit more, but the entire time I didn't feel anything." He swallowed hard. "But then I met Mully and it's like... just the way he looks at me makes me feel all these things I've never felt before and it scares me."

"Yeah," Priscilla said with a sigh. "Hormones are a bitch."

He didn't want to keep falling, but with every look or touch or smile Mulock gave him, Wheeler still found himself giving more and more of his heart. And Mulock would shatter it, he knew he would. But if someone as incredible as Mulock was the one to break him, Wheeler supposed maybe he could live with that.

And that's when a realization hit him.

"Wait," Wheeler said slowly. "Where is Mully?"

"Don't know," Priscilla replied with a shrug. "I've been here all night but he hasn't come back to the room once."

"He didn't come back?" Despite himself, a small wave of panic was beginning to build in Wheeler's chest.

"Nope. Which... now that I think about it, is kinda weird. It's pretty unlike him to be out so late."

"He told me a few hours ago he was coming back here," Wheeler stammered, his voice tight. "I just figured he'd left again."

"Shit," Priscilla breathed, her face going ashen. "You don't think something happened, do you?"

The words made Wheeler's stomach turn to knots. He shot to his feet. "I'm going to go look for him."

"Me too," Priscilla said, slipping off the bed as well. "With how creepy this awful house, is we can't take any chances."

***

Priscilla and Wheeler split up, Priscilla taking the lower floors and Wheeler searching the upper ones. The more Wheeler seemed to look, the more frantic he became.

He carried a candelabra in one hand, the dim light causing shadows to flicker across the hall, making the castle feel all the more frightening.

Wheeler continued to tear through the estate, his panic growing with every empty room he entered. The anxiety soon grew so horrible that he felt like he couldn't breathe, the sting of tears threatening to spill from his eyes. Overwhelmed, Wheeler almost didn't hear the sound of voices as he passed by the Count's chambers.

The moment he picked up on them, he quickly rushed to the door, pressing an ear to it.

The voices were faint, but as he listened he could tell without a doubt there were two people in there. Was Mulock one of them? His stomach turned to ice water at the thought.

Despite his better judgement, Wheeler began to pound desperately at the door. "Mully," he frantically called. "Mully, are you in there?" There was no answer and Wheeler continued to bang against it until the door abruptly opened a crack.

A single, pale grey eye peered through at him. Wheeler shivered at the sight—the wild look within it was not one of a sane man.

The eye glared at him, its gaze seething. Wheeler's hand flew to his wand, preparing himself in case he needed to force his way through.

Then suddenly, to his surprise, Mulock's voice came from within the room. "Let him in. He's a friend."

"But... my lord..." a raspy voice murmured in protest.

"I said, let him in."

Slowly the door creaked open, at last revealing the inside of count Vivok's chambers.

Wheeler's mouth dropped open, his eyes growing so wide in shock that it felt like they might burst from his head.

The count's room was practically a shrine, paintings, tapestries, and scrolls covering every inch of wall. Depicted in them were images of a young, white-haired man standing on a pile of corpses. Behind him a fire roared, all while he smiled triumphantly, his arms held up in victory.

Wheeler's head was spinning, frantically attempting to process what he was seeing before him.

Why the hell was the count's room covered in pictures of Mulock?