Arcade- Duncan Laurence ft FLETCHER
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Paris Holmes was not the same as he was at the beginning of his Senior year and he still wasn't sure if it was a good thing or bad one. Once upon a time, his only problem had been self absorbed, completely empty brained people and a man that towered over him, reminding Paris that he belonged to him and there was nothing he could do about it.
But now, his problems had changed drastically, one of them being more adamant than the others and this came as a person with the name of Alexander Parker.
Paris had found out within a short period that Alexander had not even been in his real name, just the English version of it and all of his men and women referred to him as Alessandro Casio, the Don of the Italian Mafia and Carnefecina.
It would have been hard for him to believe how dangerous the male could be if he hadn't experienced his cruelty himself. Alexander gave off the aura of a weakling, a coward most of the time which made it very easy for people to underestimate him, and most of the time, relax and divulge their secrets around him.
Which was usually their downfall.
Paris had heard when Alexander had been crowned the new Don of the Italian Mafia, they had been certain people during his coronation that voiced their complaints. They had no idea where he came from, what he could do, if he was suitable enough, and said he looked too weak to be a Don.
It took him only five seconds to put a bullet through the middle of their heads.
And they had been fifteen people.
Still, they had been right. Alexander Steinfeld didn't look the part. With his pretty face, grace and poise, he could be mistaken for the face of a vogue magazine, but as all stories of pretty faces go, they always had a screw lose.
And Alexander had lost thousands of it.
In his first year as a Don, he had managed to sign a treaty with every drug lord in Italy which had been easy as they all thought he was stupid, ready to take his Mafia from him and then all of a sudden, they began to lose most of their stocks to situations that could scarcely make any sense.
Of course, no one suspected Xander and he had been all too ready to help, asking for 70% of their shares, just to be with till they could stand on their feet again which they had reluctantly agreed to, even swearing a blood oath, that was usually unbreakable, to do so.
This continued until he had all of them under their grasps, and then one day, for no reason, bombed every single drug warehouse, leaving nothing but ashes and smoke behind
It had been utter chaos, most of his men wondering what in the Underworld's name was wrong with their boss, and some had been upset that he had broken a blood oath, as those were sacred to the Carnefecina.
Alexander's response to them had been in Italian, with a smirk on his face "I hadn't broken any oath. I said I'd return it to them. I would have if they existed, but they don't anymore, do they?"
And his reason for doing so?
He wanted to be known.
People had died, thousands of them, but Alexander had bathed in their blood. Happy. Excited even. Alessandro Casio had made his name in the Mafia world as Il Pazzo, meaning The Mad One.
The only thing being able to keep him sane had been Hezekiah Parker, his bodyguard and lover.
Their relationship had been surprising as they were polar opposites. Alexander very unstable and Hezekiah, quiet and aloof. People still said that the reason why the world hadn't erupted into flames was because of him, and Paris believed it.
He had watched Alexander gut someone with an ecstatic look on his face making sure they didn't pass out all through it but nothing could compare to the version he was when he had Hezekiah by his side.
He still wasn't a fan of... Them, but it was hard not to see that they loved each other. Hezekiah was the honest, brooding type. Smart. Strategic, but uptight, and the only times he ever seemed to be having any fun were with Alexander and the twins while for the blue eyed male, he stopped looking like a bloodlust demon with them.
It was like whatever darkness that was eating up Xander vanished when he came home, though lately, things had began to change between them, tension keeping them apart.
After Paris had agreed to be under Alexander's Family, mostly to protect his Mother from Sebastian though the male wasn't acting like he cared about their disappearance, he had made Paris go through series of training that the raven haired male had survived by pure luck.
Sending half of his assassins after Paris in a forest, and the first one able to bring him back unconscious would get ten million dollars while Paris got a bullet shot into a part of his body for his failure then had to sit beside the Don till the male felt ready to let the bullet be taken out.
His body bore scars of knives and arrow shots from the men that he always tried escaping from but he had learnt speed, precision, an ability to dodge easily and pain tolerance.
Paris knew that his absence would be a problem eventually but Marcos, as always, lied his way out for him. He said that Paris had a new job he was doing, an internship, and though it had made his Mother and Maria happy, it killed him that he couldn't say a word about it to the male.
It hadn't been that Alexander forbade him from doing so, the man said that their family would be safe as long as Paris kept himself as one of them so secrets weren't necessary but he wasn't sure how he could explain to Marcos that he was putting himself in near death situations and that the possibility he could die one day kept increasing the longer he left.
That Marcos could lose someone else he cared for?
Yes, he seemed better this days. Happier. But there were times when it looked like he just wanted to move into his little space and just stop being so strong all the time.
And Paris? Paris fed himself on the peace Marcos gave him. The male was the only stable thing in his life. The light. He would never have done anything to put his hermonita.
At least, that was until he became Alex's new guard.
Alexander had not even mentioned it to him until they were on the way to his house, saying in the most serious voice Paris had ever heard him use, "You are just a guard to her, nothing more. Do not speak unless you're spoken to. Do not act like you live on the same level with her. Do not even act human. And never ever mention the fact that something had existed between you two or you would never see her again, and I'm talking about the fact your eyes would join my collection."
The threat hadn't fazed Paris, but he could tell Xander had been serious. He knew the male must have had a plan for bringing him there though he wouldn't talk about it and he had been ready to do as he asked.
It was simple, wasn't it? This was Alex. She could not remember him. It didn't matter. She would probably avoid him as she never liked him in the beginning, and he would avoid her. Simple.
Except it wasn't.
Alexandra had taken an interest in him the first day he came, asking him questions, trying to get him talking. Wanting to know his thoughts and reasons for doing certain things.
If she had done this before, he would have found it... Sweet, but he didn't now.
Because that Alex... Wasn't his Alex.
She was more of a shadow than the real thing. The smiles she gave to her siblings were fake. The way she ate like there was no life left in her.
Like the Alex he knew died in that bloody house of her and whatever was walking around was a cold, cheap, robotic copy of her.
She was always trying to please him, get to pay attention to her. It sickened him half the time, and yet, he craved how badly she seemed to want it. It reminded him of how he had been, how he had wanted her.
And Paris was fully aware that he hadn't loved her then. It had been a game, and the fact she was repeating it killed him more than he should.
A part of him had hoped when he told Marcos about it, he would throw a fit and give Paris a good reason to stay away from her, but the male hadn't. Instead, he seemed okay with it. He thought that Paris was strong, but he wasn't.
There were times he wanted to tell her that she was being irritating. That she was never like that. That Alexandra was better than this. Stronger. That every single thing she did held life, but he knew if he made one wrong move, Alexander would attack faster than the speed of light and now that he was in her orbit, he wanted to stay. Even though his feelings all felt negative, he was finally feeling something.
Yet, he had not expected her to find Marcos and take him away.
Paris knew that Alexandra wasn't herself but the other male didn't, and the fear that Marcos would be hurt, or that she would hurt him nearly drove Paris mad, but when the male had returned, he seemed okay.
Down, but okay. "What did she say to you? What happened? Did she hurt—?"
"No," Had been his answer, though Paris could smell a lie better than he could before. He literally worked with for a demon now.
Paris waited for more explanations. Questions. Why was Alex acting like that? Why did you never tell me? Is there something going on that you don't want to say? But Marcos had walked into the shower quietly, and he had said when the male walked out, "Tell me what happened. In details,"
And Marcos did.
Paris' eyes had widened when the male was done, fear climbing through him. "Marcos, I didn't—"
"I know, you didn't plan that," The light skinned male looked tired wearing a white shirt and shorts as he sat on his bed, hugging the new stuffy he had brought in to his chest as he said, "You wouldn't want keep something like that from me. She just— Wanted to see why you spent so much time with me, I guess. She didn't by the way, see any reason. She said... She said that she could never be with someone like me."
Paris heard himself quickly add, "She's not the same as you remember her."
"Really?" A soft smile came on Marcos' face. "I guess it seems that way at the surface, but if you look really deep, A is still there." Then he laid on his bed, staying on his side to look at Paris. "Besides, I'm not the same Marcos she knew and you have changed as well. That's life, Paris, people change. They evolve. It could be a little scary at first, but everything would be alright."
Leave it to the male with the face of a god to calm him down.
Still, even now, as he stared at her, he tried to see this as good. That the fact she wasn't the same and didn't even find Marcos attractive anymore only equaled to her never truly wanting them, because that was what it meant right?
That one slight change could disrupt a whole order.
He watched as Alexandra played the violin resting on her shoulder, her movements soft, teary even with a stoic look on her face. The song could have moved anyone to tears, if she had put more emotion into it, and as she stopped, waiting for an answer from him, he told her the same thing.
"Hmm," Had been her reply as she returned the violin back into it's case, standing to stretch her body before Paris heard himself ask, "What did you really want from Marcos?"
Alex paused, her eyes staring up at him. Empty. Soulless. "Did he not tell you?"
It had been the first time he had spoken to her without being told to, but he didn't care. He needed to know what exactly her plans were. "I'm supposed to believe what you told him?"
She stared at him. Even now, wearing a tank top and sweatpants, it was clear that she had honed her body into perfection. She was healthier than she had ever been. Beautiful. "Do you know those are the longest sentences you've ever said to me? I should take Marcos out on more dates."
"Alexandra," He strained. "Why did you meet him?"
"I didn't lie, I like you and I wanted to know why he was so important to you," She answered. Like it was common knowledge. Like it made so much sense. "I still don't, but even now, I can tell this is you just protecting him and I'm not sure if I'm jealous or not."
"You shouldn't be jealous,"
"You should be protecting me, not him."
Paris said nothing to those words, choosing silence. He heard her sigh at the action, walking towards him then stopping when she was some mere inches away from his face, her dark eyes staring at him like she wished she could read his thoughts as she said under her breath, "Yet, I like the way you act towards him. You, are just like me. The world bores you, nothing is of any interest to you."
Her hand began to trail itself on his face. Something that had his eyes closing, "We are better. Smarter. And they are just... Useless."
He held her hand, his eyes blazing. "I am nothing like you," Even if I was once. "And you have no right to call a person useless. The least you could do is acknowledge the people around you. You're not better than anyone. Different, yes, but not better."
"They lie. They pretend," She continued. "We don't. We are just who we are without any mask. That makes us better."
"No," Paris once hid behind a mask and she had been the one to show what being honest to yourself really felt like, and now, seeing how happy Marcos was, it made him feel... Good. "it only makes us free, and if you really want to be better, than you help others feel free too without demeaning them."
Alex stared at him again, her eyes softening as her lips suddenly brushed his, the electrifying feeling frying his senses for a second. "See? You're the only one I can speak like this to. If I try it with someone else, I'm a horrible person."
"You are horrible," But those words held no bite to it. She was close, so close. "You're only amused by the fact that I am the blur in your perfect world. That I don't fit into what you expect. That I refuse to give in. The moment I do, I would be nothing to you."
And it fucking hurts.
Alex's body pressed on his now and Paris could swear he could hear her heart beating. It was fast. Racing. Matching to the tempo of his. "Does that make me a bad person?"
His answer came out in a breath, "No."
Her lips jammed on his this time, like she couldn't wait any second more and he was glad that she didn't. Hands rushed to feel every part that it could, tongues battling and craving for more, body burning every moment that it wasn't skin to skin.
Paris wasn't sure how they had reached her bed, her on top of him shirtless with only a bra on and him shirtless, his lips red and swollen. "I can't do this."
An amused look crossed her face because it was obvious he would do it but she decided to play along. "Why not? Is it Father? They travelled away together with the twins. We're alone."
"Marcos."
The name came out like a prayer, his head spinning. He couldn't do this to him. It felt like he was... Cheating. It didn't feel right. "Do you not feel the same attraction to Marcos? Just like you do for me?"
The amused look went away. "I have a feeling you want me to say yes. Is this a kink of yours?" She bent her face to his body, grinding on his semi boner, causing him to bite on his lips as she whispered into his ears. "Do you want him to watch?"
You can't have me alone. It has be the two of us.
But the words never left his lips.
In a flash, she was pinned down to the bed, her hands above her head while he kissed her. The hunger he had craved for so long pushing him more and more to the brink of insanity, and the moment he had been inside her, a memory flashed through his head.
"Would I get to fuck you?"
"I doubt you'd be good enough to be rewarded with more than your head in between my thighs,"
"Paris?"
He could feel her hands on his cheeks, making him look at her. Her face for the first time since they had met, held a genuine expression. Worry. "Why are you crying?"
Because I have wanted to do this for so long, and now that I am, it feels like I'm saying goodbye.
He kissed her as a reply, his hips moving as he thrusted harder into her, each moan and grunt that left their lips reminding him of every single second they had spent together.
Every kiss he gave her, every stroke, his mind screamed the words he wanted to say.
I love you.
Stay.
Stay.
Stay.
After, they had slept together and the second he woke up, he realized that she was gone and found her seated on the alcove area around her window. She sat hunched, staring outside with a comforter her body, and the moment he sat up, she turned to him, her voice small, "You're awake."
"Why are you there and not here?"
Her response had been without any emotion. "I find it hard to sleep."
Something in him told him to ask, but he didn't. Instead, he joined her, sitting in the opposite direction and looked outside the window as well. It was raining heavily, lightning and thunder all over the place.
He didn't like it.
"I would be leaving soon."
His heart reacted first before his mouth did, a loud thud echoing through his body as he asked, "When?"
"Tomorrow."
The thud sound had grown into an incessant thumping tone. Paris could hear a voice in his head scream that he should ask where, but he didn't. Instead, he kept quiet.
I love you. Stay. Stay. Stay.
"Hezekiah would never let me be free in Wystwood because he fears my memory would return, Alexander wants me free," She said, "After I made this decision, it was the first time I actually saw them look so relaxed."
I have been good. You told me to wait. I did all you ask. Why are you leaving us?
"Is that why you had sex with me?" His tone was sharp. Ready to shred her into pieces because he wanted feeling the same way he was. "As a last card to get my attention before you leave so I can beg you not to?"
"I don't want to leave, but I don't want to stay either," Her voice stayed small. Confused. "Nothing makes sense. Everything's just so... Numb to me that I hoped—"
"Even if I asked you to, you wouldn't." Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. "If you wanted to talk, you wouldn't have kissed me. You wouldn't have let what happened go on. You just wanted to fucking hurt me."
"I told you I was attracted to you—"
"You just don't do whatever the fuck your hormones tell you!" Paris heard himself snap. "You're eighteen, not fucking sixteen. You don't— Take someone on a date just because you can. You can't have sex with someone and tell them you're leaving just because you can, Alexandra."
She said nothing.
And her silence blew the flames in him more. "This was what Alexander wanted. Fuck, how didn't I see this? He knew I'd fall and if I did, it would probably make you want to leave."
I love you.
A tired sigh left her lips this time. "We both thought if I had sex with you, I would remember something. Anything," She looked at him now. "Ever since I met you, I wanted to remember. You make me want things. But you refused to give me your attention—"
"So is that what this is?" He asked. His voice had dropped, a coldness creeping into it. "You want to remember. Just use the people from your past that you have forgotten since the ones you remember can't do shit."
Stay.
"Paris, that's not what I'm saying—"
"You took Marcos out on a date. You gave him what he had always wanted from you. And you, you had sex with me. You gave us hope. But it wasn't exactly because you gave a shit about us but because you wanted some sort of memory flashbacks." He heard himself chuckle. "Fuck. That is worse than what I did"
Stay.
"Paris—"
He turned to her, his eyes burning as he snarled, "Don't fucking touch me." His eyes contracted as he snapped, "This was good anyway. I've been putting my head into the clouds for too long that I have forgotten people aren't shit. They lie and they fucking pretend. All I need is just myself."
Fucking stay.
An image of Marcos flashed through his head, the action causing a tightness in his chest as he stood, "Stay away from us. Do you understand? Because if you don't, nothing would stop me from killing you."
And Xander wouldn't say shit because he was the one who told me to get rid of the things that I cannot live without.
Paris walked back to the bed, putting on his clothes as he felt her eyes follow every move he made, his mind screaming again.
She's confused! She doesn't even know who she is! You do! Stay by her side!
Make her stay! Tell her you love her! Tell her what she wants to hear!
How do you want to go back and face Marcos after you fucked her and still didn't bring her back?!
He felt the sting in his eyes as they began to water though he ignored it and the moment he was at the door, about to leave, he heard her say, "I did enjoy every second I spent with you both, and whatever reasons that I had, I don't regret it."
And he walked out, slamming the door.
~
This chapter literally wrote itself. Like, this wasn't me. It was the book.