I was sitting nervously on the couch, glancing at my phone to look at the time and slowly count down the minutes. My life was supposed to be boring and empty, not full of dangerous emotions filled by the anticipation of the unknown.
Was today the day? If it was, then why was I marching to my own death?
The plan was to be late. Arrive late to work, be sloppy and careless, but not too much. I wanted to avoid attracting suspicion, but do enough that I'd be deemed useless and be thrown out like trash.
Somehow, even with the universe screaming at me, I trusted Elijah. I wasn't following my heart or my brain, because the two were a working pair at the moment, fighting me. I knew better than to walk back to that place. I knew that I'd be risking more than just embarrassment and a job. I saw a man get murdered. This was bigger than me. So against the wishes of the universe, my heart and my brain, I was going to follow my instincts, march my ass back to that godforsaken place and get fired.
I trusted Elijah would do it.
I was already half an hour late. I decided to ride the bus to make it even longer and at the same time, keep my bestfriend away from this mess. The less he was involved in, the better. He had his questions about my recent behavior, and my excuses ranged from the job being weirdly demanding to California, just California. Anything I managed to make up, he swallowed willingly and without further questions.
I chewed my thumb to the point that the skin began to break. I knew that if I didn't stop, it would swell and hurt like a bitch tomorrow. But if my life wasn't a good enough reason not to go back to that place, a sore thumb was the least of my problems.
An old lady sitting across from me on the bus kept staring at me. It was making me uncomfortable. I tried to ignore her for as long as I could, but those big eyes were glued to my face like a magnet. I looked away and focused on the back of the bus, since I was sitting close to the front. There was a group of goths occupying the long row of seats in the very back. They were all wearing big headphones, lost in their dark little world. I honestly thought they were extinct.
Right in front of them, completely minding their own business, was a group of teenage boys playing with a football. A few seconds after I started watching them, two girls with long braids climbed aboard and joined them, smiling happily as they received friendly kisses on the cheek from each one of the jocks.
I thought back to my awkward moment with Elijah on the back of the bus. I still remember the feeling of his hand squeezing. I jerked off to the memory, immersed myself in the fantasy like it had all been a dream. But it was real and I still couldn't believe it.
The moment was forever engraved into my brain. Was it shameful to say that it was one of the most exciting things that had ever happened to me? Sounded like something a virgin would say. Except I wasn't. Granted, the only experience I had was with Chance, and there was nothing to brag there. I guess that in a way, I was like a virgin—utterly inexperienced and sensitive to the simplest things.
But Elijah made me feel something new. Maybe that was the reason why I kept going back. It was clear that he was into me. If not for the fact that he touched me inappropriately in a bus, then the continuous questions about my relationship status that I left unanswered. He liked me. And maybe I liked him, but I knew nothing about the guy except that he killed someone, and somehow that wasn't enough to permanently scare me away.
When the bus dropped me off at my stop, I walked hesitantly up the narrow road, passing through the gates guarded by two hulk-sized muscle gods. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but due to the sudden dryness, my tongue felt like it was going to shrivel up. The guards were new, as they had never been there before. They paid me no mind when I went around them like a scared little kid. But I really wondered what their purpose was all of the sudden. It couldn't be me. I was insanely insignificant. Just a stupid boy with no life and no meaning.
There was no sign of Elijah when I made my way to the office, but I did catch a glimpse of the boss through his glass window. His face went blank when he noticed I was clocking in. I was a little more late than I intended to be, but he made no effort to get up and stop eating his ice cream cone to yell at me.
To make it even worse for me, I wore no vest. I left the office once my card was stamped and worked around the front so that I could see who came in and out.
A hellish hour passed and then my heart began to beat like crazy.
Elijah walked in and removed his sunglasses. Our eyes connected for a fast second. He was either pretending I wasn't there and his acting was precise, or I just fucked up.
A woman walked up to him and showed him a clipboard. It was kinda weird seeing him acting normal. That wasn't an insult, the guy talked to himself, and sometimes shouted at nobody.
Elijah dismissed her with his hand and took the clipboard with him to the office.
Why couldn't I breathe all of the sudden? Oh, right. I could be murdered any second. Would they do it right here in front of everyone? I mean . . . was everyone in on it? This . . . this dark secret. Did they all know?
The same woman that had spoken with Elijah showed up and told me my presence was requested at the main office.
The moment was here. I was going to be fired or be fired at. It was up to Elijah now.
I was a bit puzzled when I walked into the waiting room and saw no boss sitting on the slightly broken office chair. The desk was empty, except Elijah was leaning against it with his arms folded over his chest, waiting for me to walk in.
There was no use taking a moment to breathe to not look so stupidly nervous; he was watching me through the clear wall. I opened the door and walked in, closing it behind me.
"Hey," I said first.
"Hey."
Why did this feel so awkward? And not even because Elijah had my life in his hands, but because his hand was all over my junk yesterday. Yeah, who cares about being shot down like a dog. His HAND was on my dick.
"I-I was called?" My voice couldn't stay normal for even a sentence.
"It turns out your boss is a bitch," he stated, smiling at me with a glimmer of hope. "He left so that I could fire you. He was too scared to do it so he asked me."
"Oh."
"Disappointed?" He tilted his head. "I thought you wanted it."
"No, I do!" I said quickly. "I'm grateful. I'm just in a very uncomfortable position right now and I don't know what to say."
"There's nothing to say." Elijah stood up and walked around the desk, hunching over the computer. "I'll wipe out anything to do with you from our system. It's like you were never even here."
"Really? That's it?"
"That's it."
"Thanks, Elijah. Really."
"I'll send your last cheque and throw in a little bonus for all the stress I put you through."
I didn't want to say goodbye, but the faster I was out of here, the better.
"Will I see you again?" I asked.
"You will," he said confidently.
"How?"
"Don't worry about it."
He was being a creep again, wasn't he? Was he going to send me a letter? Was this bonus a sheet of paper with his email? His number?
"Okay, thanks again. See you around."
People were watching me from the corner of their eyes. Elijah left the office room and went into the clock in station and removed my card. He really was going to delete everything that had to do with me. A wave of relief washed over me and calmed all of my worries. For once I was happy.
I gave him one last look and he saluted back. I could feel my face starting to heat up, so I turned away to avoid being caught blushing. I dashed through the exit door and accidentally bumped into someone, almost knocking them back. I apologized and kept moving, not wanting to stay another second.
When those gates were far behind me, I almost screamed with joy. It felt so good not having to worry about dying. I was too happy that I ended up replying to Chance's stupid message revealing his undying love for me. I'd probably fuck him if he was here. That was the extent of my good mood.
Unfortunately it wasn't good enough for me to get back with him. That would take a few million years to happen.
I was sitting on the bus bench when I heard the sound of boots crunching over pebbles.
"Hey, I know you."
At first I couldn't recognize the voice, but then I turned around and everything came back to me.
"Cedric?"
He was standing a few feet away from me, coming directly from the warehouse. He was the one I had bumped into, I realized. He was wearing black coveralls and a hat.
"You remember my name?" He took another step forward, but acted tense.
"I do. I remember you."
He dropped his gaze. "I never got your name. I think your friend shouted it, but that was over a month ago."
"It's okay." I smiled at him to let him know it wasn't a big deal. "It's Lucian."
"Can I?" He pointed at the big empty space next to me on the bench.
"Sure."
"Thanks." He sat next to me and let out a deep breath. He then chuckled.
"Are you wondering about the chances of us actually meeting again?" I said and grinned when he nodded.
"It's even weirder when you think of where we are."
Did he mean the slaughter house or just the middle of nowhere? And why was he even here? Judging by the outfit, he was here to repair something. But why here? If I remembered correctly, he lived far.
"What brings you out here?" I asked.
"Business."
"Business," I repeated.
"Sorry, I can't really talk about it."
"It's okay."
He took one look at my face and sighed. "Do you remember what happened at the bar?"
"The shooting?"
"Yeah, the shooting. We've been keeping an eye on those people. We had reports of suspicious activities around this area and I was assigned to go check it out."
I eyed his clothes. "So you're pretending to be a repairman?"
He scoffed. "No, I was just going to go in and ask for a job application. It would be less suspicious."
"But . . . the clothes."
He blinked at me. "I wear this regularly." My jaw dropped as I tried to figure out what to say that wasn't offensive. He started laughing at my reaction. "I'm fucking with you. I wore it to look like I belonged for the job. Just blending in."
"Jesus Christ," I sighed.
"More importantly, why are you here?"
"I just got fired."
"You worked here?"
"I did. Past tense. I am now a free man."
"I mean . . . do you mind if I ask you some questions?"
Fuck. I just got out of a mess. Did I want to jump back into the shark-infested waters and become a snitch?
"I don't feel comfortable, if I'm being honest with you," I said.
"Just one question then, I just need to know—"
"You're in the right place," I answered. "That's all I'll tell you."
He nodded. "Thanks."
"Thank you for protecting me. From the bullets."
"Don't thank me. I didn't get hurt."
"I know, but you tried to protect me, even if you got hurt. I could never forget someone who would do that for me."
He rubbed the back of his head. "Aah. Fuck. No problem."
I quickly checked the bus times on my phone. "The bus will be here in a minute. I'm going home and far away from this place."
He stood up. "Yeah, I need to get back to investigating."
"Good luck out there, cowboy."
He squinted his eyes at me. "What the fuck did you just call me?"
"Please ignore I said that."
"I'm going to."
"Good luck, Cedric. Hope you find what you're looking for."
With a nod, he turned his back to me and started walking towards the warehouse. He managed to take three and a half steps before he stopped and turned back around.
"Do you want my number?" He offered. "Just in case you're in trouble."
"Yeah, sure. That would be cool."
He came back and pulled out his phone from his front pocket. We exchanged numbers quickly as the bus appeared in the distance.
"We could uh—hang out too, if you're ever bored." He was having a really hard time talking to me all of the sudden. I still remembered the energy he gave off the first time we met and it was still there, but I noticed how fast it shifted when I mentioned the gay thing. It was happening again, but without me mentioning anything. "Not like . . . in a weird way. Just two dudes, chilling. I could even help you find a new job. I have good connections."
I tried not to laugh and make him feel bad. "Yeah, sure."
As the bus stopped in front of me, Cedric saluted and I had to look around to make sure I wasn't being pranked. What the fuck? Did everyone salute in California or something?
I left the warehouse for the last time. I didn't even care that the same old lady was still on the bus and she was one seat closer to me now. Everything was falling back to place and that was all that mattered now.
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[Author's Message]: I am SORRY for taking so long to update. I went through a lot the past month and just couldn't write, but I used that time to plan SO many chapters. It should help me down the road, but when writer's block is pushing you down, there's nothing you can really do. I hope you guys still read and comment, because it would mean the world to me if you guys continue reading. I hope I didn't discourage anyone from reading this story. I'm not going to abandon it. Hopefully now I can write more, since my block is semi gone. Let me know your thoughts on this chapter <3 And don't forget to follow my twitter for updates!