When Lust & Envy Meet

14. MATRIMONY

     Disgusting, he thought, but he needed to go anyways. He'll make it quick.

     "Hey you!" shouted a man, the source of the odor as Isaac learned, hidden in the unlit corner of the room. "I know you."

     "Pardon?"

     He wore a suit, proving he was indeed a guest of the event, but there were patches of dried vomit as if he'd just been drinking in the bathroom the entirety of the party. "I said I know you! You're that disgusting fffaggot from t-the dance fffloor." He was blatantly drunk, slurring his words and staggering his steps. "You were touching...filthy people like you-"

     Isaac didn't want to hear anymore. Were two guys not even allowed to dance together? The dance was playful and fun for God's sake. He turned immediately, but before he could get out, the old man grabbed his wrist, grip so hard it'd leave bruises.

     "Let go of me!" he cried.

      "Not before you get what you deserve!" The man had an empty glass bottle in his hand, clearly ready to use it. Isaac yanked his hand back as hard as he could and narrowly avoided the swinging bottle. It shattered into hundreds of small pieces when it hit the tile floor. Isaac didn't say anything else. He just ran out the door, leaving the drunk with his broken glass.

   

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✦ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

    

     "That was quite a dance out there!" gushed Dahlia. "I've known you your whole life and I've never seen you show so much emotion!"

     "Could say the same for you," Josiah chortled in return.

     "I'm serious. I felt like I watched all of your cares sail into the horizon and disappear. I saw each and every one of your miseries carried far, far away by the breeze."

    He snorted, "Didn't know you could see emotions."

     "They're the lighthouse," she said.

     He stared, confused by her flowery prose.

     "They're a source of light," she explained, "And in this dark, empty, and endless ocean, I can see them from wonders away."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✦ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

     "You said he was in the bathroom?" asked Josiah.

     "Yes, and I haven't seen him around," said Isaac, pale and tired when he returned, "he's probably still there. I don't even think he really recognized me. He's just so drunk I think he'll hurt anyone."

     "I'll inform security."

     Isaac just nodded in silence. He was shaking.

     Josiah got up from his seat and started heading towards the entrance where they were located. People can't even be civil for one night, he thought.

     Just before he arrived at the door, he was interrupted by coarse voice.

      "Josiah Beckett, is it?" The voice belonged to one of his father's most influential business partners—a man named George Henry for that matter. His mood shifted from pleasant to loathing.

     "Indeed, sir" he said, plastering on a grin and shaking his cold, dry hand, "glad you remember."

     Josiah felt the man caress the back of his hand with his thumb. "I never forget a beautiful young face."

     "I'm flattered."

     "...enjoying the wedding?"

     "Yes, although I don't know the bride nor groom very well."

     "I don't either" He took a long sip from his beer. "For a moment I honestly thought this was a waste of my night." The older man stepped closer, "...but now that I ran into you...I think you can change that."

     Josiah just continued smiling, though it became rather tight lipped when he heard the tone of his voice. "...why is that sir?"

     "I'm sure you've heard about you father's recent investments..." his voice lowered and he scrunched his face, "...they haven't made me too happy."

    "...what would then?" Josiah shut his eyes and took a deep breath. "Make you...happy."

     "You know very well what would, boy," he said, smug grin suddenly revealing itself.

     Josiah intended to brush off the comment with naïveté and stray from the subject when he saw Isaac in the corner of his eye, remembering the security guard and the drunk man. It was then something inside him snapped. It was the same something he felt when things weren't going as he'd wanted—whenever he felt like he wasn't in control.

People—they're all the same.

He scoffed, narrowed his eyes, and met the man's provocative gaze directly.

     "...Does your wife still refuse to blow you?"

     The man recoiled as if he were an innocent man being accused of crime. "No need for such vulgar language kid. It's an exchange of favors—you have your father to blame for his lousy mistakes."

"What happens if I refuse?"

He smirked. "You're a smart kid. I believe you'll make the right decision."

     "I am." Josiah merely cocked his head. "And I will." He brought himself to the old man's ear and made his voice velvet.

"Meet me in the men's bathroom."

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