22 -A Deal Made

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22 - A Deal Made

Aristotle’s heart stopped. Gear and Darla stood up, about to go search the house.

NO!” he exclaimed, jumping to his feet and waving his hands in the air. The jig was up, and he knew it. “Fine. I’ll go get her.” Moran nodded triumphantly. He had won. Aristotle trudged into the bedroom, his feet feeling like lead. He didn’t want them to take you away.

He knocked gently on the door of the closet, whispering your name softly. You pushed the door open with an empty plate in your hands. A smidge of hot pocket insides was on your lip. You began getting worried at the sight of Aristotle. Tears were forming in the corners of his eyes.

“Ari? What’s wrong?” you asked. He let out a sob and you dropped your plate to hug him close. “Ari? What happened?”

“They’re here for you,” he muttered, holding your hand in his. He kissed the back of your hand gently and lovingly. “They’re gonna take you away, YN…” Your heart stopped. You stood up, holding Aristotle’s hand tightly. He hung his head in shame. You were found.

He lead you out to the living room, where three people stood waiting for you. Your eyes landed on the one person you knew in the room.

“Moran?” you asked. He gasped in relief.

“YN!” he pulled you into a hug, making you let go of Aristotle’s hand. Aristotle winced at the feeling of your warmth gone, his hand still stretched out where you had let go. “I’ve been so worried! He didn’t hurt you did he? Are you okay? I swear, sweetheart, he’s going to pay for what he’s done, okay? I-”

“Wait,” you said, brushing his hand away. “Moran, what do you think Aristotle did?” Moran’s smile dropped.

“YN… are you on first name basis with this monster?” he asked. His tone had turned dark, as did his eyes.

“He’s not a monster, Moran. He’s been taking care of me. He hasn’t hurt me, okay? Ari hasn’t-”

“Ari? You call him… Ari?” His hand stretched out and rested on your cheek. Aristotle glared at the physical contact you shared with the teacher. Moran lightly brushed the bit of food off of your lip. “Honey, I’m here to take you home, okay? We’ll be fine. Everything is going to be okay.”

“Moran, everything is okay. Alright? I’m okay here. Really.” He kneeled down in front of you, his eyes pleading.

“YN, he’s a killer. Okay? He’s not a good guy!”

“He is, Moran! Aristotle is a good guy! He’s really sweet, okay? And I l-” You stopped speaking. You couldn’t say you were in love with him. Moran would kill him, and you didn’t know what these ginger strangers would do.

“Do you… do you want to stay here with… with him?” You looked back at Aristotle, who was looking at you with pleading eyes. He reminded you of a puppy dog.

“Yeah,” you muttered, looking back at Moran. “Yeah, I do.” Moran’s face changed as he stood up. He was mad. Genuinely, completely, terrifyingly pissed off.

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY YN!?” Moran shrieked, lunging for Aristotle. He knocked the younger man to the floor as you screamed in fear. His hands wrapped around Aristotle’s throat, choking him. Aristotle couldn’t breathe and was clawing at the teacher’s tightening grip.

MORAN! LET HIM GO!” Gear, Darla, and you worked together to pull Moran off of Aristotle, who was left gasping for air. You rushed to his side, kneeling on the floor as he gasped for air.

LISTEN HERE, YOU BASTARD,” he shrieked, pushing Darla and Gear off of him. “We’ll be back tonight for YN, understood? And by then, if she’s not willing to come with us, we’re calling the police on you, monster.” He stormed out the door, Darla and Dear chasing after him. Within the minute, you heard their car leave the gravel driveway.

“Aristotle, are you okay?” you asked worriedly. He nodded, rubbing a red part of his neck. Tears were streaming down your cheeks. You were scared. “Please, Ari… don’t let them take me…” He sat up and pulled you into a hug. With your head resting in the crook of his neck, your tears running down his chest and his back.

“I won’t, darling. They won’t get you. I’m not going anywhere.” He kissed your neck and you wrapped your legs around his torso, just wanting to be closer to him. “I love you, YN.”

“I love you, too, Aristotle.” He looked at your (e/c) eyes, then at your (s/c) lips. Without warning, he kissed you again. This time he didn’t taste like vodka. He tasted like… well, pizza. And a hint of mint.

“YN,” he said. “I have an idea. I don’t know if you’ll like it, though.”

“Will it keep us together?” He nodded. “Then I’ll do anything.” He smiled and kissed you again.

“Pack a bag. I’ll be back soon, my love.” He stood up, leaving you on the floor. He grabbed a bag and a hat and left the apartment with his truck keys. You rushed to pack a bag with enough clothes for a week. You glanced at the pile of wilting roses still on the dining room table.

God, you were in love with Aristotle. And he was in love with you. He’d do anything for you…

*****
And so it goes....

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