~Monday 25th February 2013~
"Hey, Edee, it's Malcolm. I really want to talk, I'm sorry about what you saw and I know how cliche it sounds but it's honestly not what it looked like. Just... please, bunny, please call me," Malcolm sighed heavily as he pressed the end call button, leaving his seventh message to Eden that day. He had finally come to the conclusion that he couldn't hide from it anymore, he had to tell him what happened because he couldn't risk losing him.
The guilt of what he did with Shai, the sickening memories that clung to the forefront of his mind, they would just have to be outed by word of mouth. Eden would hate him for what he did, he would think Malcolm was some perverse sex addict with obsessive tendencies but at least, in the far far future, there would be a chance of the boy forgiving him. He hoped.
He couldn't cope anymore. It had been almost two weeks since he had last had a genuine conversation with Eden, he couldn't stand the silence anymore. He thought giving him some time and space would help, hell he even thought that it might give him a spontaneous excuse that he could use instead of confessing his dirty little secret. Yet it didn't, all it did was darken his mood and make him barely capable of doing his job anymore.
"Pining over him will do nothing, take action, Malcolm. He can dodge a phone call easily, it's more difficult to avoid you in person," Malcolm sighed, his eyes meeting with that near-identical copy, staring into the empty blankness.
"What would you do? If you had control, full control, what would you do?" a smirk crossed the fake's lips, Malcolm knew it liked to be asked its own take on the situation. Malcolm was sure it just liked to scare him, it was probably more than amusing.
"Well, first, I wouldn't have left it so long. I wouldn't have let Shai walk out of here, not on his own anyway. I would have crippled the boy, maybe snapped a femur or two to keep him in here whilst I collected Eden. I would have explained to Eden what we did with Shai, every last sickening detail, simply because I know he would get off on it. He's kinkier than you give him credit for, y'know.
"I'd kill Shai in front of him, something clean since it would be the first kill he witnessed, well, almost..." Malcolm didn't like the way the fake sneered, "then I'd bend him over the desk and fuck him. Hard. He'd consent, because who the fuck wouldn't? He'd love every minute of it. I'd make stupid promises to him. Vows to protect him, vows to keep him happy, anything that came to mind probably, just something to..." the fake paused for a moment, his sneer fading away to nothing, "just anything to make him smile," Malcolm couldn't help being a tad shocked, having never heard anything close to empathetic come from the fake's mouth. The fake was the beast Malcolm kept locked away, clad in chains and strapped down to a chair in a tiny box in the corner of his mind. It was the worst aspects of the man all rolled into one cruel, sadistic form. It didn't have emotions, it was as apathetic as they come, and the jagged black hole in its chest certainly didn't have room for any size of a heart.
"He's changing us," the fake muttered absently, staring down at its own hands in its lap, "how is that possible? How can he be changing us?"
"I don't know," Malcolm was honest with that answer, the most honest he had ever been. He had no idea what the fake was talking about, had no idea how Eden had managed to have that effect on it. It may only have been small but it emoted. It shouldn't be able to emote. It was programmed to be an ass, to be callous and chilling, not to care. Malcolm was held the aspect that cared, gave that full control, he wasn't sure what would happen to his personality if there was no darkness in his soul at all. Malcolm was about to speak again when there was a soft knock on his office door.
"Leave me, let me give my opinion," the fake said before Malcolm could end the ritual. Malcolm hesitated for a moment, narrowing his eyes a little, then flicked his wrist, shifting the fake to stand at the wall to his left.
"Behave," he murmured almost inaudibly, only receiving a low chuckle as response, "come in," Malcolm called out in a louder voice, resting the white marble bowl behind his desk, next to his foot, carefully. Corinne Moir entered the room, clutching a well-used brown leather purse in her trembling hands. She didn't look healthy, with dark bags under her bloodshot eyes contrasting against her ghostly pale skin. Malcolm hadn't been expecting her, he had a sneaking suspicion that Eden would dodge their meeting but he had no idea that Corinne would take his place.
"Good afternoon, Corinne," Malcolm rose from his seat, extending his hand so Corinne could shake it before the two sat back down, "how are you?" stupid question really, either Corinne would lie and they would brush over her dishevelled appearance, or she would tell the truth and the meeting would likely take a different route.
"Fine," she mumbled through chattering teeth.
"She's sober, at least there's that," the fake commented, observing Corinne with a scrutinizing glare, "I want to hurt her, Malcolm, for what she did to Eden, I want to make her bleed. I don't like this concern I'm displaying," Malcolm had learnt a long time ago how to ignore the fake when it spoke, listening to it but not looking or responding. He didn't want to look like a lunatic.
"You don't look fine, Corinne, if you don't mind me saying. Did something happen? With Eden maybe?" at the mention of her son, Corinne dissolved into tears, accepting the tissue Malcolm offered her.
"Her tears are worthless, she made him cry more. She doesn't deserve our pity, Malcolm."
"What happened, Corinne?" Malcolm urged, trying to remain sympathetic despite wanting to side with the fake. After hitting Eden, Malcolm no longer empathised for Corinne, he merely tolerated her for the time being.
"Eden moved out," Corinne sobbed through heavy, broken breaths, "Audrey did too."
"Good. We should have forced him too earlier. If you let me take control some-" Malcolm cleared his throat, silencing the fake mid-sentence, needing a clear head to ask the right questions.
"Why did he do that?"
"We had a fight," Corinne quavered, dabbing at her eyes, "I said some things that I shouldn't have and he just left."
"I need a little more detail, Corinne, I might be able to help," Corinne looked hopefully, whereas the fake looked horrified. It was like having the devil and angel on your shoulders at full volume.
"Don't you dare, Malcolm," the fake snarled viciously, physically straining at his invisible restraints, "don't you dare give him back to her. We can protect him, we can keep him safe, keep him happy. You want it as much as I do, Malcolm, send her away and we can go talk to him. We can make him forgive us, he has to forgive us," Malcolm clenched his teeth, trying his best to ignore the tempting offers of the beast tied to the wall.
"We were at the diner and he wanted to leave early, he said he wasn't feeling well. I-I didn't believe him, I don't know why, I just didn't. I told him that he hadn't been pulling his weight, that it would be irresponsible of him to leave. The next thing I know, I'm yelling that Archie's death was his fault," Malcolm's frown darkened, the situation was worse than he had anticipated, and Corinne seemed to be spiralling, "I didn't mean it, I swear, Malcolm, I didn't," Corinne's sobs were beginning to grow erratic again, Malcolm couldn't let her break down entirely, he had to savour some coherence to continue her questioning.
"I believe you, Corinne," the fake scoffed, rolling its eyes at Malcolm's response, "I believe you," at least Malcolm was a good liar, although it was a given if you were a lawyer.
"Thank you," Corinne repeated those few words over and over whilst she calmed down, giving the fake an opportunity to input it's opinion, having calmed physically at least.
"You can't lie to yourself, Malcolm, you like this situation. It's good for us. You can swoop in and act like some shitty comic book superhero and we both get our fix. Eden won't be able to refuse our offers, he's happy around us, he would love to stay with us. Finish your stupid little meeting and let's go find him. We can finally make him ours. We won't need a fake anymore, we can have him," although tempting, awfully tempting, Malcolm ignored the fake once again, having a few more questions to ask Corinne before he ushered her out.
"Is Audrey staying with Leon permanently? Eden will have sorted all that out, wouldn't he?" Corinne nodded silently at the two questions, "and where is Eden staying? With a friend?"
"His boyfriend," Malcolm nearly flinched at the sudden growl from the fake, ignoring the slur of curse words and general phrases pertaining to 'he is ours, no one else's'. Malcolm hadn't realised how possessive he could be.
"And who would that be?" Malcolm kept calm, letting the fake absorb all his emotions so he could keep that clear head that he needed.
"That Lex boy. Eden doesn't call him his boyfriend but I'm not stupid. I've seen them together," Malcolm only had one final question, he didn't need to know anything else other than that answer, it was imperative.
"Where does Lex live, Corinne?"
Malcolm took a deep breath, staring up at the apartment complex, able to see the window of apartment 407A from his position on the street. Now or never, he thought to himself. His legs carried him inside, past the teenage girl at the front desk who didn't speak to him, merely stared. He was lucky actually, he didn't have any reason to be in the building, and Eden wasn't expecting him. If the girl had alerted Eden to his presence, the boy would likely tell her to have him leave.
Malcolm used to suffer from quite a serious degree of OCD when he was much younger, over two millennia ago, it affected him with numbers mostly. It used to drive Arian insane when they were kids, Malcolm would count everything. Every step he took, every paving stone on the street, every piece of food on his plate. He got therapy, centuries of therapy, from various SNs, mostly witches and crones.
One night, a ritual worked. Malcolm stopped being plagued by the constant need to count everything, it was the biggest relief he had ever received. And yet, there, in that moment as he walked up the stairs to apartment 407A, he felt that familiar itch at the back of his mind. He stopped for a moment midstep, taking a few laboured breaths, clenching and unclenching his fists, dispelling all numbers from his mind, focusing on the colours of the walls instead.
When he had calmed down enough to return to his coherent state, Malcolm realised he was trembling. He was scared. He was actually afraid, fearful of Eden's rejection of him. He'd fucked up. Big time. And made it a thousand times worse by leaving it so long to actually talk to Eden about it. Eden wasn't going to forgive him, how could he? What Malcolm had done was too far, it was too much, but he couldn't just ignore it anymore.
Standing outside apartment 407A, Malcolm bit his bottom lip, wringing his hands in front of him, trying to focus on his trembling fingers rather than the ever-increasing number in his head counting his breaths. He knocked three times, hard enough for it to echo down the hallway but hopefully not enough to put Eden on edge. He didn't want to make the situation any worse.
Malcolm began counting the seconds without even realising, his apprehension worsening when the number crossed over the two hundred mark. He raised his hand to knock again when the door swung open and that pair of smooth hazel eyes immediately put him at ease. Not enough to stop the itch in his mind but enough to dull it for the time being.
Malcolm swallowed hard as his eyes drifted over Eden's body, his mouth going dry the longer he stared at the near-naked boy. His tanned skin glistened with water droplets that cascaded over his petite form, accentuating his curves and dimples. Malcolm's forced himself to lift his gaze when it got dangerously close to the towel wrapped loosely around Eden's waist.
"Hi," was all Malcolm managed to choke out, a feeble smile gracing his lips, although it probably looked more pained that pleasant. Eden continued to scowl, pushing back his dark dripping curls out of his face and stepping to the side, inviting Malcolm inside the apartment with a brief sigh.
"Thank you," Malcolm added in an equally soft voice, standing awkwardly by the couch, no longer able to think of anything to say. He didn't know where to begin. Didn't know whether to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness or try to talk everything through like an adult, if that was even possible with his near non-existent voice.
"You have impeccable timing," Eden muttered, dropping the towel in the laundry basket as he passed Malcolm, continuing on into the bedroom completely nude, worsening the heat Malcolm could feel building around his collar, someone was trying a revenge angle, "should I even bother asking how you got Lex's address or should I just assume you've got people watching me? Those wolves that won't leave me alone maybe?" Eden didn't sound particularly annoyed, more exasperated than anything. Malcolm remained silent for a moment, opening his mouth every so often to say something but silenced by a glimpse of Eden's naked body as he passed by the open bedroom doorway.
"I can ask Georgina and Ullr to take a step back if you would like," Malcolm suggested, shoving his hands into his coat pocket and staring down at his shoes, "I'd prefer not to though, they're keeping you safe and that puts me- um, that should put you at ease," Malcolm didn't want to provoke any sort of volatile reaction, didn't want to piss him off by unwittingly making the situation about himself. He thought it best to leave out his feelings until the two had talked more.
"They're breathing down the back of my neck, best interest or not, it's driving me insane," Malcolm tried not to stare as Eden walked past him in only a pair of tight-fitting black boxers that hugged the boy's curves like the man so desperately wanted to.
"I'll have Slate revise the terms of their contracts so that they better suit your liking," Malcolm felt heat flush his cheeks when Eden caught his gaze glued to the boy's ass, a tiny iota of hope spiking within him when he just about caught a miniscule giggle, "are you going out somewhere?"
"No," Eden tugged on an oversized faded red t-shirt, presumably not his own, "why?"
"I just thought since you were showering you might have been getting ready to go out," Eden brushed past Slate, reaching over the couch onto the radiator to collect some black sweatpants that looked more his size.
"No, I'm home alone tonight. Lex is out on a date with some guy he met online, which means I'm probably on the couch," Eden strolled into the kitchen area, "I'm just hoping they're not too loud," he added under his breath. Malcolm concluded that, like he had thought, Corinne had gotten Lex and Eden's relationship all wrong. Maybe they had been together briefly, but they just seemed like good friends in the present, which cured the bolt of jealous that throbbed through the man's chest.
"Do you want something to drink? We've probably got some whiskey somewhere but it'll be pretty cheap stuff," Malcolm wore a fond smile, watching Eden search through the cupboards, imagining the boy doing so in his house.
Somehow the thought of simply domestic actions taken care of by Eden set a warm feeling in Malcolm's chest. He could see the boy dancing to decade-old songs in his underwear whilst vacuuming, or the two of them stripping the bedsheets after a particularly eventful night, or just standing together in silence washing the dishes, occasionally making brief comments about nothing important.
"No, thank you, I'm driving," Eden nodded, collecting a glass from one of the higher cupboards, having to stand on his tiptoes and strain to reach it. Malcolm's smile broadened ever so slightly when he caught the blush staining Eden's cheeks as the boy filled the glass with some fruit juice from the fridge. Eden walked over and sat down on the couch, motioning for Malcolm to join him, sipping at his drink.
"So..." Eden began, staring down at his hands, "did you just come here in the hopes you'd catch me getting out of the shower or did you really want something?" Malcolm couldn't help but allow the ghost of a smile flitter over his lips, he'd missed the boy's humour.
"I wanted to invite you to dinner at my house," Eden may have thought that his expression was hidden by the positioning of his head but Malcolm could still see the beginnings of a nervous frown, "so we could talk about everything," he added swiftly after so Eden was aware of his entire intentions.
"And why can't we talk here?" Eden didn't sound sceptical or nervous, simply bemused.
"I would feel more comfortable discussing this at my house, and I want to make you dinner," Malcolm would also prefer to have Eden picked up from his house when he inevitably hated the revelation the man would make rather than being thrown out of Lex's apartment himself.
"So it's easier to dispose of my body when you poison me?" even when the two weren't on the best terms, Eden could still tap into that humour, Malcolm adored that.
"No," Malcolm actually managed a chuckle, the light at the end of the tunnel brightening ever so slightly at the formings of a subdued smile on Eden's lips, "I wouldn't poison you in my own home if I was going to murder you, I'm not that foolish. I just think it would be better for us to talk at my house so we're not interrupted and maybe you could stay the night too," Eden's gaze flicked up suddenly, a degree of panic in his eyes.
"Mal, I don't-" Eden began, knocking the confidence that Malcolm had managed to build, leading the man to immediately shift his gaze down to his lap.
"I-I didn't mean it like that," Malcolm interjected quickly, his nerves consuming him once again, "I just meant so you didn't have to sleep on the couch, I have guest rooms you could stay in," Malcolm didn't look up again until Eden's hand rested over his gently, meeting the boy's eye tentatively.
"Alright, let me just get changed," Eden rose to his feet, walking back over to the bedroom, stopping to glance over his shoulder with a gentle smile, "oh, and Mal? Stop counting."