15. GRIP

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Amalfi Coast of Italy

     Isaac couldn't forget, no matter the strength of his efforts. He couldn't forget the man from the bathroom. His course voice, the smell of cigarette smoke on his skin mixed with the odor of vomit. His slimy grip. Even when Josiah went to tell security he remained overwhelmed. In order to calm his nerves, he thought it best to drink a nice, expensive glass of matrimonial champagne. That one glass quickly turned into a second. Then a third.

     Before he could say ciao bello! Isaac found himself with a hazy mind and whispering sweet nothings into the ear of an attractive brunette on the dance floor, her smaller hips moving to the beat against his. Those 'nothings' consisted of "I can't wait any longer" and "let's get out of here", to which she nodded eagerly. Just as he took her hand to lead her off the floor and out, he was stopped by a certain prefect.

"Where the hell are you going?"

"I don't know? Maybe to fuck," he sneered. He felt warmth from the blushing girl on his arm.

Josiah nodded towards the girl, shooing her away silently and effortlessly. "Just how much did you drink?"

"Hey! You can't do that."

"How much?"

"Only one glass," he pouted, "...times five."

"I think we should get you home," the prefect muttered, "before you do something crazy like seduce the bride as well." There was a slight edge to his voice, almost a hint of something bitter. It was faint. "Or groom for that matter."

Held by the wrist once again, Isaac said his farewell and goodnight to Dahlia before was dragged against his will to their car. It was the same wrist the drunk man held, but Isaac couldn't help noticing how Josiah's grip felt so different. Rather than feeling trapped, he felt oddly at ease in the firm hold. Like it was reassurance someone was with him in the dark of night, guiding him ever so carefully. He wondered if Josiah could feel his pulse.

"Why so soon, kid?" their chauffeur asked when they entered the lush car. "It's not even midnight."

"This boy is an absolute mess," said Josiah.

"No I'm not! At least, not yet," Isaac giggled, lips grazing the other boy's ear. "But I lost the girl so I guess now it's your job."

"My job is to make sure you get home and go to bed," he said sternly.

"Then do it. Fuck me so hard I pass out." Isaac placed hands on Josiah's body. One went on his chest and the other between his legs. "I want you inside me."

Josiah shut his eyes, struggling to let out a whisper of a "stop". His voice was uneven, like he was barely holding back.

The villa wasn't far from the wedding so the ride wasn't long—something they could all be grateful for, especially their poor driver. Entering the living room, Isaac continued to persist against Josiah's rejections.

"Why not?"

"Maybe because you can't even walk straight? Because you're so drunk out of your fucking mind that you don't even realize what you're doing!" Josiah turned mid-walk, motioning to the paneled wall Isaac used to keep his balance. Out of the car, he was free to raise his voice in accordance with his emotions, though there was hurt concealed by his mask of wrath. "Speaking of which, care to explain?"

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