When first Peter and Thomas met, it was at a get-together between all of Mary’s closest friends. Of those people Peter had been Mary’s friend the longest; all through elementary, middle, and the first two years of high school. After sophomore year she moved to attend Villeford Academy for the Gifted in Michigan then a yet-to-be-mentioned college. This get together was the first time Peter had seen her in over 5 years, and she still maintained the position as the love of his life. Although, along with childhood friends like Peter , Mary also invited some from Villeford and her oh-so-illusive college. With that crowd came Thomas, a lithe well-toned, 22 year old man with tattoo sleeves and piercings on both his left brow and lower lip. Though shaved bald, Thomas had platinum blond lashes and vicious blue eyes. This man, introduced as “Tommy” Mary’s Ex from college, apparently was “sweet once you get to know him” and had a smile that could “light the whole city”, or something along those lines. All Peter knew was that he looked like a psycho, and he hated that guy.
“I hate that guy” Peter informed Mary on their walk, strategically far enough so Thomas wouldn’t hear him. She threw him a look, the kind that was both disappointed and judgmental. He hardly knew the guy, Peter was aware, but Mary still felt the need to tell him aloud. He wanted so badly to say he knows, and that she was right, but something about that guy wouldn’t sit well with him. There was something so carnal about the way he looked at people, and looked at Peter in particular. It was as if ending Peter’s life wouldn’t make it the list of important things he’d do in a day. It made Peter shudder, even hours later when he was alone with the girl of his dreams, and Thomas’ cold eyes were nowhere in sight.
“I think you’re just intimidated. My roommate was, too when he met him” She added. Male roommate? Great, another thing for Peter to panic over. “And Matthew is taller than him”
Taller than 6’3, Peter thought, who was this guy? Mary continued her story unaware, waving her hands from side to side as she set the scene of the two men meeting. Her right hand waved cowardly seeming to avoid her left. Peter’s eyes narrowed at the left hand, imagining how she would have displayed him and Thomas meeting. Mary’s eyes traced his.
“What, it’s not like he was cheating on his boyfriend! He’s just cute.” She quipped. So Thomas was gay? Then that look was-Was he checking him out? He was sure he wasn’t Thomas’ type. Then again Thomas didn’t look like he had a type.
“He’s gay?” he asked before his mind could keep up. No wonder she was defensive about him, calling him Tommy and what-not. She must be used to people being weird about-
“Yeah you think I’d room with a straight guy? As if!” she chuckled.
Peter was confused again. So, she was rooming with Thomas. His eyes shifted to the right hand. But then her roommate met Thomas…? He looked to the left hand again. Thomas met himself? This was all getting far too philosophical for Peter’s taste. Who was Matthew again? Then a voice in the back of his mind rolled its eyes at him. ‘Her roommate is gay, not Thomas’ it said. Oh. It was the only way everything she said would make sense, but for some reason that made Peter feel stranger than before. Probably because that meant that 1) Thomas was still a predatory creep, 2) he use to actually date Mary and 3) He’s a straight predatory creep that use to date Mary. Suddenly the world was flat again, and Peter couldn’t make sense of anything.
“So, no need to be jealous.” She winked. Usually Mary’s false flirting made Peter happy. Knowing that her 6’4 and above roommate was into other men really should have evened him out too. But instead it rolled right off. Its place taken by the looming fear of something that had long passed.
“Oh…right.” he shook himself to his senses. There’s nothing to worry about anymore, right? He smiled down at her warmly as they continued their conversation. This was the first occasion when Peter realized he would rather be hit by a car than have to deal with Thomas ever again. The second, was a half hour later when Thomas decided to bite Peter on the ear and try to stab his hand with a Meat skewer. That all was handled well on Thomas’ part, Peter thought, considering all he did was ask him for the garlic dip.
If he was lucky, he’d never cross paths with him again.
Then one month later, Thomas showed up at Peter’s work, dislocated his shoulder, and slapped an address to the back of his neck.
When he got there he was confused, really confused. The address didn’t have any names it was just numbers and a zip code. He had tried to put the whole thing into a GPS and all it did was guide him to the middle of nowhere. His finger dug at his scalp, stinging more and more. He probably picked a scab by mistake. This all was a huge mistake. ” Florida Man Takes Directions of Psycho into the middle of God knows where and Expects not to get Axe Murdered”, what a fucking joke. He crumpled the receipt in his fist, still shaking. Peter really wanted to blame his rattling on the cold weather, but he know full well what caused it, who caused it. He knew why he was here too, in the middle of nowhere after sun set. Thomas’ display at Malboroux made Peter very aware of how little Thomas worried about an audience. He wouldn’t lead Peter away just to kill him, he’d do that just fine in a crowded market. Which is what Peter feared would happen if he ignored Thomas’ request.
Heart be still, he pleaded, but the pulsing thrashed harder against his neck, ears, and hands. He felt like he was swallowing his own stomach every time he took a breath. Jumping at the cracking of a pen under his own feet, Peter paused. He could rationalize it all he’d like, but he was still very much afraid. Deciding to hold his breath, he stepped cautiously down the long abandoned road. All the old buildings to his sides were boarded up and closed. Did places like this really exist? An old missing child flyer rolled against the ground. The blood in Peter’s veins ran cold. It was a boy by the name of Thomas with platinum blond hair and ice Blue eyes.
“Threw that in because I figured it’d screw with you.” A bitter voice spoke from behind him. Peter hated the way Thomas’ voice made him feel like nails raked the inside of his lungs. This all was an intimidation tactic? Peter’s eyes flitted around the area. It all seems real enough.
“Where’d you find this place?”
“I live here.” The answer was immediate but his voice sounded different, even a little surprised. Peter turned to face him, burying his nails into his palms. He looked different too, like he wouldn’t punch him in the face just for breathing. Oh, his mouth was open. Most times Peter was too fixed on Thomas’ eyes when he spoke. Now they were … Normal, an aqua blue color. Slowly it all shifted back, Thomas’ mouth closed and his eyes shot back up in intensity, Ice blue again. “What?”
Peter was staring wasn’t he? He wanted to slap himself in the face. He already felt the pricks along his eyes, like he wanted to cry. No, he was going to demand to know why he was brought here. He had to act tough. It was the only thing stopping him form breaking. Damn, the intimidation tactic worked way too well. He gathered his sarcasm from his ankles and hiked them back in place. Change the topic back to why he was here…right?
“So, you went through all that effort for-” his body swayed against the bitter temperature outside,” Little old me?” He hoped meekly that the sarcasm would excuse his need to look away. Thomas smiled again, a bright dazzling grin. His eyes made their way back to the soft aqua, dilated, and open.
“Oh, you noticed?” His voice was smiling. Peter’s eyes flicked up cautiously. What. He was going along with it all? Peter’s eyes tracked down to his shirt. Lack of a shirt. Dude seriously, he wanted to say.
“This” Thomas swiped the flyer off the ground” Was fake. This” His hands waved lazily at the barren surroundings “This has been like that since I moved here.” He flung the paper at Peter’s direction.
Once the false flyer was wrangled from Peter’s face, he opted to look in Thomas’s general direction. However, by then he was already gone, the shape of his back retreating into some odd direction down the road. Peter whipped silent by the crisp of the wind, tuck-tailed and followed Thomas’s figure. There stood a law firm building made to look like the white house, pillars and everything, only smaller. The foreclosed sign had long peeled off and was now tucked somewhere behind the gap of the parking lot concrete and the median grass. Peter paused at the door frame, chipped and peeled along the sides, curling the paint chips beneath his fingernails. The atmosphere of his visit had changed so drastically and he really needed a breath. What did he do? What had he done right? Passed the door threshold the lights were a warm yellow and reds radiated off of couches onto the walls. They were all arranged to face a certain direction to a corner. It had a white shadow outline like something was resting against it and had more recently been moved. To the right, there was the open door with Thomas standing, holding the thing open for him.
Peter stepped in quickly. Just as Thomas’ back was turned to lock and chain the door, Peter swallowed as much of his scenery as possible, as quickly as possible. Where Thomas was standing before, led to a corridor with multiple parallel rooms. He assumed they must have been offices originally. To the left there was another one exactly matching in everything other that the restroom signs and the water fountain. Ahead was what Peter guessed must have been the lobby. The blank space between all the couches would’ve been the area for the coffee table.
“So you’re probably wondering why I gathered you all here.” Thomas said into Peter’s ear, hands firm on his shoulders. Peter in response shivered and shrieked, pulling away to face him.
‘You all’ he recalled. Frantically he spun around searching the corners of the room for something or someone he had missed. Thomas’ amused cackling rang against all the hollow walls and cornered Peter’s head. All he could think about were those recently escaped prisoners he heard about on the radio while driving there.
“Who else is-“Peter stopped. Asshole, he thought.
“I’m sorry” Thomas breathed clutching his stomach and knees interchangeably. “ Oh man…No I’m really not” He huffed a laugh hoping he could stop himself. He couldn’t. He barked out another louder and harder than the last one. “What…dude are you afraid of just people? Regular old Joe’s crossing the street. Ahh No!” managed through the pants and hoots. “ I haven’t even said anything yet”
“You didn’t tell me anyone else was coming.” He combatted.
“I didn’t know you had a trigger warning against PEOPLE!” Thomas was laughing so hard now. Not even cynically, but genuinely. His eyes shone like the surface of Caribbean beaches, vivid beautiful Blues.
“I don’t.” Peter smiled himself at the sight. Thomas had a great smile and a rich laugh. It was this moment, though crude, that he was glad he came even if only for a joke.
Yeahs, Rights, and misconceptions were exchanged. Thomas held his smile to the end of their conversation. One that mentioned that the ‘you all’ was just a reference to a movie he had watched earlier, and no one else was there. One that somehow lasted a half hour before actually moving on to why Peter was there in the first place. One that made Peter understand why Mary described him the way she did. Then Thomas lost his face. His eyes were lidded, and his smile gone. The weather outside finally seemed to hit within the walls. It was freezing. Despite the couch’s warm fabric.
“Mary” Thomas stated as though it clarified everything.
“What? What about-“
Thomas was less than a breath away in an instant. The look in his eyes were vicious and unrelenting, his pupils pin holes. From ice to Fire, Peter felt he was suffocating in Thomas’ presence. The couch yielded to the pressure of Tom’s fist beside Peter’s head.
“I know how you feel about her,” he looked down the length of Peter’s face, “How she feels about you”
Peter’s heart thudded in his chest, loud and pounding heavy at its cage. The sweat dried against his skin and he felt if asked to do anything, he would concede, Just for the answer. The question barely left his lips as Thomas said what he knew to be true.
“You aren’t her type.”
Outside the window, in the desolate strip before this white House shaped office Space, Papers wisped and fluttered onto the ground. The pages, torn and folded. The buildings quiet yet swelling. The sun had long since set, letting the swift and heartless cold winds dance and carry on. It beat at windows and slammed against doors when rowdy enough a crowd. They were starting their festivities before Peter even came in, yet as Thomas mouthed the words of rejection, they paused to watch the spectacle. Poor boy, he could almost hear them say.
When Thomas’ fingers slid down the side of his face, Peter’s thoughts stuttered. They paused at his jaw, thumbing the shaved hair bristles. They were warm, his fingers. They were both rough and smooth, harsh and calm. They hushed him into silence, then forced themselves, biting into his skin. No blood came.
“She asked me to apologize to you for being so forceful. Do you believe that? Apologize to you for what?” He eyed Peter’s lips again. He saw the teeth piercing them. “Because you’re weak and desperate or someone who doesn’t want you? No. I refuse.”
“Then what is all of this?” he asked mindful of the small specs of blood coming off his teeth, but nothing else. Thomas shifted from leaning down next to him, to kneeling into his thighs on top of him. His hands crushing Peter’s jaw.
“I’m going to help you. Honestly, I hate the way she dangles you around because he doesn’t have the heart to break you down. If you do me a favor” It was said against his ear. “I’ll try to fix it.”
Then he dug his teeth into Peter’s shoulder.
Thomas was an artist. He painted people places and things with part of the items that made them. He wanted to portray a weak and pitiful man, cowering from life in his comfort. For that he’d need Peter, the coward.
Believe me I suck 