Breakdown - 12. 11 Spiral

Cam's first round of exams was done. He had officially passed the grade 10 level of high school. While his marks weren't straight A's, he was a pretty good student. Cam had never felt the same degree of pride in something as the day he got back his exam marks. It was like, 'hey, I really can do this!

Jared had invited him over for some celebratory festivities. It was nice to see some of his old co-workers again, but Cam felt a stabbing pain when they asked him how he managed to afford school. The jealousy was obvious. Most of the evening, Cam spent his time dodging around questions that were related to his new job.

”So what do you do now?” Gem asked, holding a drink in his narrow fingers and leaning against Jared’s kitchen counter.

Cam looked down at the shorter boy. “Er, I do some private work for this business man.”

“He must have some pretty heavy fetishes if he has to train you,” Gem said, taking a drink. He brushed his reddish-brown hair out of his eyes with the backs of two fingers.

Cam blinked at him. “What?”

“Well, I’ve heard that if a business-type comes down and officially purchases a whore, they have something really sick they want to do,” Gem said. “It’s always a mixed blessing, you know? You get the security of only dealing with one person, so the threat of STDs isn’t as bad, but you usually get more than you can handle.”

“Ah,” Cam said, flicking his green eyes away from the skinny prostitute.

“So what’s his fetish?” Gem pressed.

“I’d really rather not talk about it,” Cam said. “He doesn’t want anyone knowing anything.”

Gem’s eyes glittered. “Oh, it must be really good if he doesn’t want anyone to know about it. You should set up cameras or something and blackmail the shit out of him.”

Cam thought about all the ways that could backfire with someone like Aziel. The man was a cold, calculating machine. His cold blue eyes would find any camera, or even any hint of nervousness in Cam. It was like he didn’t just look at you with those icy eyes, he dissected you. Laid you bare, inspected your parts, and then threw you back into the formaldehyde.

When Gem saw that Cam wasn’t going to answer that, he pouted. “You’re not any fun, anymore, Cam…” He took his drink and walked off into the small gathering of people. Cam rubbed a hand over his face and looked down at his drink. Vodka coke. He chugged it and bit back the sting of a ‘Jared’ strength drink.

Everyone started heading out around 2AM. It was still early by most standards, but a few of them wanted to see if they could turn a few bucks before the night was over. Cam was left sitting on the low couch with Jared, his fifth of sixth drink in his hand. His head felt full of cotton, and all his limbs felt like lead. He licked his lips, marveling at how they felt so numb.

“It was nice of them to come,” Cam said at length, “Considering most of them can barely stand the sight of me now.”

Jared patted his shoulder. “They’re just jealous. You have a pretty good opportunity at your fingertips, Cam.” He paused. “It just really scares me; I don’t know what you’re paying in return to this guy.”

Cam looked over at Jared. “It’s really not as bad as everyone thinks. He doesn’t make me fuck a dog or anything.”

“That’s disgusting,” Jared said, wrinkling his face. “Like, who the hell comes up with that shit?”

Cam hummed a little in his throat and then took another drink. “I had a guy try to get me to do it once,” he said. “I told him there wasn’t enough money in the world. He got kinda mad and tried to hit me, but he was a small guy…” Cam forced himself to stop talking.

“That’s sick, I couldn’t do what you do,” Jared said. He looked at the bottom of his glass, pensive.

“You’d be surprised what you can get used to,” came the rejoinder.

“He’s not hurting you, is he?” Jared asked, his face calm and serious. It was so calm and serious, in fact, that Cam felt laughter bubble up from his lungs. He put a hand over his mouth and chuckled, turning away from Jared’s intent expression.

“I don’t have any bruises,” Cam managed between his laughter. He stopped laughing after a moment. “It’s just sex. Hard sex.” The image of the needle flashed into Cam’s mind, but he pushed it down. That had been months ago, and Aziel hadn’t done that since.

Jared’s expression didn’t change, but he turned away from Cam. He looked at the bottom of his glass again, as if he expected the answer of the universe to appear there. Oh, look, he thought, there it is. 42.

“What are you going to do if you want to get out?” Jared asked. “He’s got you pretty deep. I mean, he’s supplying your bank account, you said, and he gave you a car?”

Cam’s shoulders twitched in a shrug. “Yeah, a nice one too.”

“Do you drive it?”

“Sometimes.”

“Is it fun?”

“It’s a fucking ball,” Cam replied, grinning.

“So you think it’s all worth it? Whatever this guy does to you?” Jared reiterated.

Cam was quiet a moment. He took another drink before he answered that question, swallowing away the needle and the gun that flared up in his mind whenever someone asked him that question. Honestly, he was more afraid of the needle…

“Yeah, I do,” he said. He looked back at Jared, his expression just as serious as Jared’s had been. There was a slow nod.

“Are you spending the night here?” Jared asked.

“Nah,” Cam said. “I’m going to go home. I have to get up tomorrow and do some shit around the apartment. I’ll just call a cab.” He flicked out his phone and dialed the only cab company he knew of.

Jared let his head flop back against the couch. He listened while Cam gave them directions. “Thanks,” Cam said, and closed the phone. “They said like five minutes or so, they’ll call when they get to the bottom.”

Jared smiled at him a little, almost painfully. “It’s kinda sad, Cam,” he said.

“What is?”

“I would have totally dated you if you weren’t involved with this other guy,” he said.

Cam smiled a little. “You waited too long I guess,” he teased.

Jared laughed. “You little prick…”

Aziel was reading a book on the couch in his living room. He didn’t usually find the time to read, but today was an exception. He’d turned down a few job offers so that he could spend some time at home, and with Mark. As it was, Mark couldn’t get every day that Aziel was home off, so Aziel found himself alone in the penthouse.

He turned another page, his blue eyes flicking from one sentence to another. He was wearing low-riding jeans and a light blue sweater. As casual as he ever got. His bare feet were pulled up under him, his toes sticking over the edge of the couch. He was playing with one of his earrings while he read, his expression one of drawn concentration.

Because the sight was entirely out of character, Mark laughed upon seeing it. Aziel’s toes curled against the couch when he heard Mark’s laughter, but otherwise he didn’t react. Still chuckling, Mark dropped his bag at the door and came over to the couch. Standing behind him, he slid his hands down Aziel’s chest and rested his chin on the top of his head. Aziel smelled like soap and his floating, expensive cologne.

“What are you reading?” Mark asked.

“A Danielle Steele novel,” he replied.

Mark stopped dead. He tried to peak at the cover. “You’re joking,” he said, leaning over Aziel’s head.

“Yes, I am.” He looked up at Mark, drawing the book away from his prying fingers. There was a hint of a smile on his features.

“Jerk,” Mark pouted. He reached for the book again, but Aziel drew it farther out of reach. With one arm, he reached back and grasped Mark’s waist.

“What difference would it make if I were reading a Danielle Steele novel?” he asked.

“The difference between me laughing my ass off at you, or just nodding and walking away,” Mark said with a laugh. He felt Aziel’s fingers tighten against his ribs. Spastically, he jerked back from him, now fighting. “Stop! Aziel! That tickles!”

Aziel discarded his book under the coffee table and turned his attention solely to Mark. He turned and gripped the boy around the waist, hauling him over the back of the couch and onto his lap. Mark gasped, gripping Aziel’s arms. It always amazed him how strong Aziel was.

Now straddling Aziel’s waist, Mark looked down at the incubus that he had fallen in love with. Aziel was the powerful lawyer with cold eyes and straight dark hair that only every showed affection to Mark. Mark reached out and touched the fragments of hair that were resting against Aziel’s cheek. Aziel’s smile was soft and contained.

“So really,” Mark said softly. “What were you reading?”

“Some Stephen King novel,” he said.

“Really? I’m still going to laugh at you for that one,” Mark said.

“Laugh all you want, I got it from your bookshelf,” Aziel replied.

“Aziel?” Mark asked, drawing his hands down to touch Aziel’s chest. The sweater material was soft under his fingers. Aziel looked good in blue; it made his eyes seem even more intense. Mark had told him as much many times.

“Yes, Mark?”

“Why do you keep me around?” Mark asked.

Aziel’s expression softened. “Because you’re the one person in all the world, Mark,” he said, “That could make me love them.” He reached up and ran his index finger down Mark’s nose. Mark smiled a little. “The one person whose presence brightens my day. Lifts burdens. Casts away shadows. Whatever cliché you would use.”

“You really are reading Danielle Steele aren’t you?” Mark teased, his cheeks flushed. He could never believe that those words were for him.

Aziel smiled a little, his other hand running up to press against Mark’s hip. He looked up into the soft brown eyes under the mop of messy dark hair. For not the first time, Aziel wondered what it was about this boy that made him want to keep him.

He remembered a day, about a year and some ago, when he had decided that Mark was getting to close and things were getting too complicated. He remembered sitting in a cramped room, the heavy weight of his rifle comfortable in his palm. He remembered watching the street outside the restaurant where Mark worked. Aziel had waited there for hours.

Mark came out and walked across the street to the bus stop.

Aziel had trained the sight of his rifle on him. He watched Mark’s dark hair ruffle in the wind, the expression of discomfort on his face in the cold. He held himself, his uniform for work doing little to break the chill of the night. He looked forlorn, waiting for the bus. It wasn’t a moment of pity, for Aziel would have recognized that for what it was. It was a moment of clarity, as if he had opened his eyes for the first time and witnessed the beauty of colour.

There had been two minutes of unknown outcomes. Fragile pressure beat against Aziel’s chest. For the first time in his entire life, he was unable to pull the trigger. His finger wavered there, unable to finish the clean stroke needed to make the deadly animal in his fingertips bounce and kill. Mark’s face in the cross hairs of his scope froze him.

That moment, unknown to Mark, changed Aziel’s life.