Fixing Nico [boyxboy / yaoi]

Ch 12 - It's too Easy to Kill A Person

Yup, they definitely need to be medicated, I decided as Christian's lips crashed against mine - I gasped slightly as Christian gently licked my bottom lip, spreading my own lips as the kiss became deeper, our tongues tangling inside my mouth as I was vaguely sure I was having an out-of-body experience…

Christian carried me through the threshold, placing me down gently as the bed sagged slightly under me to encompass my weigh, my blankets sticking up around me so, at this angle, they resembled the walls that surrounded the Kingdom in the Little Mermaid II, when Ariel is grown up and has a daughter…

How did I not I realise I was gay earlier? I wondered with a wiry grin. 

'What's so funny?' Christian asked as he crawled besides me into my bed, smoothing down my sheets and making my mini walls disappear as he pulled our bodies together. Our breaths mingled in the small spaces between our faces, tickling my lips slightly.

'Life,' I replied truthfully.

'That's a bit vague.'

'Sorry,' I mumbled, unable to banish the smile that had formed across my lips.

'Does you stomach still hurt?' Christian asked anxiously.

'A bit,' I murmured. But you make me forget about all the pain, I added in my head.

'I'll get you some Panadol,' said Christian, sighing as he pulled himself up off the bed and disappeared down the dim hallways, his footsteps fading from earshot, the soft thumps padding away… away from me…

I didn't realise I was falling asleep, even as my eyelids began to grow heavy, my vision blurring as they drooped. Not even as everything around me went black, and the sound of approaching footsteps refused to register in my mind - a mind that was slowly and surely shutting down.

I didn't realise until it was too late.

He reeked of cologne, cigarettes and stale shirts tinged with day-old sweat. His murky, brown eyes were like two stains on the bloodshot globes of his eyeballs, I noticed, as he leered at me from behind his desk. He must've been in his early forties, because his hair was still dark, untouched by streaks of grey, but his face was leathery, slightly winked, like the face of a mummified body I'd seen somewhere. He was leaning and swinging back and forth on his ripped office chair, his black, scuffed shoes propped up carelessly on top of the papers strewn across his marked wooden desk.

I stood before him, shivering under my three-sizes-too-big, blue K-mart uniform, my knees knocking under the baggy black pants. I felt… exposed. 

'Nico,' he growled, a leering smile crossing his lips. 

'I - I -'

'Do you know why you're here?' he pressed, raising one bushy, black eyebrow. 

'Yes… I - I guess so…'

'Hold out your wrists,' he commanded. His ugly grin didn't leave his thin mouth. His tongue flickered across his lips like a snake's, only to disappear in the blink of an eye as if my mind was playing tricks on me. I vaguely wondered if he had a forked tongue to match.

Silent tears welled in my eyes, I begged through a thick, sore throat: 'No… Please…'

'Hold out your wrists,' he repeated, more forcefully this time. 'I'm your Boss, right? This is a demand. Hold - out - your - wrists.'

Almost against my will, my two arms rose, trembling… My right wrist was clear, perfectly untouched, white skin, veins lacing under the translucent veil, graceful, small, perfect…