sakurada yana

[TIER 2] MWR: A Repeat Performance

When you want to do it again but your partner have other ideas XD All tops have their down time lmao XD especially after 5 rounds and no sleep XD

[PREVIEW] MWR canon smut up!

When you forgot to upload the preview teaser XD

[MOBILE WALLPAPER] [TIER 20] Plushies Stickers

This month stickers will be plushies themed to welcome Nerd's plushies launching on the 30th June!! Heheheh look forward to it! I hope we will make the goal this time around as well! At least then we'll have a set at home UWU!! Thank you so much for your continuous support! <3

[TIER 10] IATL: Chapter 18

Warning for offscreen sexual assault.

Rereading those two simple words, Lucas crunches up the paper in his hands and throws it across the room. Walker knew he was coming. He had set up the video and left his message as a taunt. To mock him. To dare him to come and get him. It's a direct challenge. How did he know Lucas was coming? How did he even know about Lucas in the first place? Someone must have warned him.

Fucking Ramsay. The Brit is getting to be a real pain in the ass.

The sound of the men jeering and whooping blast from the tv. Lucas whips around and rips the thumb drive out from the side of the tv screen. The room falls into silence as the video cuts off. Turning around, Lucas surveys the room. He takes in the messy bed, the wet rag and the puddle of sick. He knew Ramsay sent someone else in Hellhound's place, and it seems like it hadn't gone well. Crouching down, he picks up the cut open tie-rips on the floor. Whoever it was, he or she was bound.

He stands up when he hears muffled footsteps behind him. Michael is walking towards him, holding a fluffy white towel. "It's still wet. And it's still moist in the bathroom. We just missed him." He drops the towel on the bed and scans the room. "We should check the security cameras, see if any of them catches Walker leaving." He pauses, looking at Lucas. "Do you think he's alone? According to Gabriel, he had four men with him."

Lucas shakes his head. "I don't know. This is a single room but his men might be spread out throughout the motel." Showing Michael the tie-rip in his hand, he adds. "Whoever Ramsay sent, Walker has them." They both share a meaningful look. Michael's eyes flick towards the tv, expression dreaded and pensive, and Lucas doesn't need to be a mind reader to tell what's going on in his head. Whoever that person is, he or she has no idea what they have gotten themselves into.

Voice low and serious, Lucas voices out the elephant in the room. "He knew we were coming. He knew about me, Michael. He knows my name." He gestures towards the tv. "Walker is taunting me. He wants me to come after him. You know the type. Narcissistic. Borderline personality disorder. Add drugs to the mix and we've got a full-blown psychopath on our hands. He's already got something planned next. And we have no idea what." The situation has turned a complete 180°. "I have a bad feeling about this, Michael. I don't like it one bit."

Michael nods, his face grave. "First thing first, you can't go back to the home." Lucas opens his mouth to argue, but Michael cuts him short. "Walker knows who you are. He knows where you live. No, it's safer to stay away first. For you and the kids. Our saving grace is that he doesn't know about me. Yet." Michael takes out his mobile phone. "We need to stick together from now on. And we need a new place to stay. Gordon may have a plan, but we need to keep ourselves unpredictable."

Lucas nods, watching as Michael lifts the mobile to his ear. "Who are you calling?"

"A friend of mine who owes me a favor. I'm going to get a place to stay."

"Alright. I'll go and check the security tapes in the meantime. Meet me back at the car in 15 minutes?" he suggests. Michael nods.

Lucas gives the room one last perusal. He still has the thumb drive in his hands, gripped tight between his fingers. They will need this to help identify the other men. A dreaded feeling settles in his guts. His episode shocked him. It's been awhile since he last had them. The video had caught him by surprise and maybe that's why it had triggered him. Nonetheless, the prospect of watching it again is daunting. He slips the thumb drive into his jacket pocket and exits the room.

On the way down to the reception, Lucas remains cautious. Just because Walker isn't in his room anymore, doesn't mean he's not in the building. Still hyper aware of his surroundings, he approaches Alfie. The boy seems surprised to see him again. "Is the heater not working again, sir?"

Lucas just passes over the mobile phone in his hand. He had called Zael on his way down the elevator, explaining the situation and what he needed. Zael was more than willing to help out, sharing the same sentiment as Lucas about Walker. Also, he doesn't want Walker to attract more attention than he could handle. The last thing he needs is for the Feds to be involved. He's trying to keep this as low key as possible and is in accordance with Lucas's plan to silence him. Out of the public eye, silent and unobtrusive.

Alfie stares at the phone in confusion. At Lucas's nod, he takes it, careful not to accidentally swipe or touch the screen that is currently opened on Facetime. Zael's ugly mug is staring out of it. Alfie's eyes widen in surprise as he recognizes the man on the screen which is not all that surprising considering the number of times Zael had appeared on the local news and papers. He is somewhat of a local celebrity.

"Sir?" he asks.

"Who am I speaking with?" Zael asks.

"The name is Alfie Young, sir," Alfie answers respectfully.

"Good. Alfie, I need you to listen very carefully. I'm going to need you to show the man-" Here, Alfie glances up at Lucas, who gives him smiles and a small wave of his hand. "-all the security footage you have and to give your full cooperation as if the man himself is an officer of the law. Can you do that, Alfie?"

Alfie nods then shakes his head. "Umm, sir. I would love to give the police my full cooperation but-" Alfie looks uncomfortable, pulling at the collar of his shirt. "Uhh... the cameras around the building don't work. They're fake. It's more towards prevention, you know. It gives the false impression of security. You see my dad; he's the motel owner. With business the way it is, we can't afford it. The only one that is working is the one here." Alfie directs the phone at the camera in the corner right above him. Looking back at the phone, he adds, "I can show the footage for this camera."

"Do that. And do whatever the man says." Alfie nods furiously. "Thank you, Alfie. We appreciate your help. The city thanks you." Alfie smiles widely, his small chest puffing out just the little bit at that. A moment later, Zael ends the call.

Alfie hands the phone back to Lucas. "So, what you said earlier, about the hot water. That's a lie, wasn't it?" Lucas smirks. Alfie's blue eyes dawn with comprehension and his mouth forms a small 'O' before he reverts to his professional demeanor again. Clearing his throat, he nods towards the door behind him that says 'Employees Only.' "We'll need to go to my dad's office," he says, holding a hand out to lead the way. "If you don't mind my asking, did something happen? Maybe I saw or heard something," he says as they enter the hallway.

Thinking there's no harm in asking Lucas questions. "Do you remember renting a room to a big black man? It should have been sometime yesterday evening."

"A big black man..." Alfie scrunches up his face, thinking hard. "Oh, you mean, Gordon Walker? He's a guest here. He checked in last night around eleven." He stops in front of a door, turning to look at Lucas. "Why? Did he do something? I wouldn't be surprised if he did. That man has a nasty temper. He stayed here before." He shudders. "I'll never forget that night."

"Why? What happened?"

"The last time he was here, he checked in with a prostitute. Well at least that's what I think she was, you know mini skirt, fishnet, low top and too much eyeliner. Late that night, I received at least five calls complaining about the screams. I mean, I know what this is," he says motioning at their surroundings. "There's no point in sugarcoating it or trying to market it differently. 90% of our clients come here to have sex. The walls are pretty thin, but people don't often call to complain. But not that night."

"So I went up to see what the deal was. When I reached his floor, I almost had a heart attack. The girl was screaming like a banshee. The hair on my hands literally stood up," Alfie emphasizes, bringing up his arms and gesturing to the fine hairs there. "My hands were shaking so bad it took me three tries before I unlocked the door." He shivers, turning back to the door and fishing out a set of keys from his pants pocket. As he unlocks it and pushes it open, he adds. "What I saw inside... It still gives me nightmares."

Alfie enters the room and flips on the light. "What did you see?" Lucas asks, curious. He wants to know what kind of monster he's dealing with. This isn't just about Gabriel anymore. The man is a threat to him now too. And of course, there's Michael. He's hunting Walker and whatever they can glean from the man would only help. Alfie didn't answer him, walking towards the desk and leaning down in front of the computer. He types something in and stands back, finally meeting Lucas's eye. His boyish face is grim and sad.

"The girl was tied to the bed, spread eagle. Mr. Walker wasn't there anymore, and so were his things. The poor girl's wrist and ankles were scraped raw. Her face was bruised beyond recognition; she can't even open her eyes. She lost three of her teeth," Alfie shudders, rubbing his arms as he continues. "She's naked, and there were all kinds of... 'things' on her. She's bleeding, and she peed herself. The bed was drenched with it. It was horrible."

"There's a wad of $50 bills poking out from her vagina. And-" Alfie has turned a pasty white, and he looks nauseated as he says, voice just above a whisper. "Mr. Walker stuffed a bottle of whiskey; the one we provide in the mini fridge, in her ass. And not the part where you drink from either." He swallows. "She was all torn up and crying; I don't even know where to touch her where she wouldn't hurt. I ended up calling 911."

"Why hadn't the police heard of this?" By 'police' he means Zael. It surprises him that violence of this level escaped his attention.

Alfie shrugs. "Maybe Mr. Walker threatened her? I don't know, but she ended up not pressing charges. Said it was all consensual between two consenting adults and that she didn't know her limits. I think she just doesn't want to get into trouble with the police. Plus, that looked like a lot of money in her. Who knows? That was a few months ago, though. Three months maybe? Haven't seen him since. Not until yesterday. I should have expected this. Did someone get hurt?" Alfie asks. He looks guilty.

"We don't know yet. But we think he got someone with him. That's why we need to watch the footage." Lucas walks overs to the computer, feeling disturbed. Walker is obviously deranged. The amount of violence he's capable of and the fact that he does it for the hell of it. Without any reasoning, rationale or objective behind it. He takes pleasure from the tortures he inflicts. It leaves him cold.

In his line of business, Lucas had faced a variety of personalities. From the sadist to the power crazy. He had experienced first hand what it was like to be at the mercy of such people. The things Andreas did to him, it's a miracle he isn't more broken. But even people like Andreas couldn't hold a candle to Walker. Andreas acted out of vengeance. There was a purpose behind this form of torture. But Walker, it's a whole different ball game.

Alfie motions towards the computer screen in front of him. "Here is today's footage." Lucas pulls out a chair and sits, pushing himself closer to the table and grabs hold of the mouse. "You said Walker checked in around 11 pm. Was he alone or did he have company?"

Alfie is quiet for a moment while Lucas scrolls through the videos. It seems like the motel keeps a week worth of footage before throwing them out. When Alfie speaks, his voice is nearer, almost in his right ear. Lucas startles, flicking his eyes to Alfie's face that's peeking over his shoulder. "No, sir. He wasn't alone. He came in with a group of about 4-5 men. Here, I can show you." He taps Lucas's hand, and when Lucas lets go of the mouse, Alfie takes control of it and clicks on one of the videos on the screen.

The video pops up and Alfie fast forwards it until the timestamp in the corner says 10:45 pm. Then he steps back. Lucas watches the screen. The footage covers the back of the counter where he sees Alfie sitting and a faraway shot of the entrance. The reception area is empty at the moment but about 5 minutes later, a group enters. He recognizes Walker immediately, walking towards the counter. They all seem heavy footed like they've been out drinking and partying.

He plucks the thumb drive from his pocket and sticks it in the USB port. There's no sound coming from the computer. He turns up the volume on the video but still nothing. "Why is there no sound?" he asks. The men are talking. He wants to hear what's being said.

"Oh, um. The sounds system doesn't work anymore on this computer. Sorry about that," Alfie explains sounding sheepish.

Okay, not ideal but no matter. Lucas minimizes the video and drags the file into the thumb drive's folder. They can watch it on Michael's laptop later. When the group of men exits the screen, all with keys to their own room, he looks up from the screen and says, "I will need to see all their rooms as well." Alfie nods. "I'll give you the keys to them." Satisfied, Lucas returns his attention to the computer.

He clicks open the footage for today. If he's right about the exchange happening during his visit to the school, then his timeline of interest should be around 10:45 am to- He glances at his watch. 12:03 pm. He fast forward the video and slows it down when the time stamp reads 10:40. Keeping his eyes trained on the entrance, he waits. The person who Ramsay sent to Walker should be coming in through the door anytime soon. He assumes the person would be a teenager.

The quality of the video is poor and pixelated, but he's still able to make out the person who enters the building. At approximately 10:53 am, a boy around 6ft and blonde hair walks in. His whole body language screams of unease and agitation. He looks around the area nervously before he goes in the direction of the elevator. The boy has a briefcase with him. And Lucas knows who he is. That's Chase Reed. Ramsay sent Chase to Walker, the motherfucker.

Lucas hits the fast forward button again and waits for them to come down. There's no sign of life in the area for the next 50 minutes except for Alfie until he sees Michael and himself entering the building. He freezes. But he hadn't seen Walker exiting the motel. How is that possible? There's only one elevator so they couldn't have left without them seeing. The hair on his arms stands. They couldn't still be in the building, could they? An icy dread pierces deep into his bones. Of course, they could! They have plenty of rooms to go to! They'd only checked Walker's room. How fucking stupid can they be? Fuck.

Michael!

He's about to leap out of the chair but just manages to calm himself down enough to ask. "Is there another way someone could leave the motel without going through the entrance?"

"Actually, yes. There's the backdoor that comes out into the back alley behind the building. Sometimes, our customers would use it when they don't want to be seen," Alfie supplies. Before Lucas even asks, he adds. "We don't have a camera there, I'm sorry," he grimaces.

Lucas pulls the thumb drive out and stuffs it in his pocket, standing up. "Alright, now get me the keys to the other room," he demands, pulling out his mobile phone and dialing Michael's number as they go. He hopes Walker is really gone and not hiding in one of his men's rooms. He had left Michael alone. What if- He doesn't want to think about it. His heart beats at a rapid pace, worried and tense. A cold sweat starts to break out on his back and forehead. Cmon, answer the goddamn phone!

The calling tone goes on and on until- click. It connects.

---

Gabriel blinks awake, feeling a little groggy. He had fallen asleep after Lucas left. Talking about what happened drained him. He was a raw shivering mess by the time he was done. Throughout it all, Lucas had been kind and understanding, soothing him, his eyes concerned and furious at the same time. Furious, not at him, Gabriel can tell but at the men who did this to him. He was grateful for it but at that moment, he ached for Chase and his warmth.

A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. He can't believe Chase had sneaked into the hospital last night to see him. He even made up this whole elaborate ruse too. Gabriel huffs a laugh, feeling his heart warms at the thought. No one had ever gone so far out of their way for him before. And waking up to Chase, that's something he could get used to. Waking up to bright green eyes, freckled face and full soft lip. That he could kiss whenever he wants to. Because they're a couple now.

The smile grows, and he has to curb his excitement. This would be his first real relationship. Gabriel has an actual boyfriend now. With someone as kind and good as Chase Reed, who had cared enough to shed tears for him, felt for him enough to feel his pain and make it his own. That is something Gabriel is not used to having. All his life, he had only known loneliness and solitary. And in recent times, violence.

At school, he's known as the weird, awkward kid that no one pays attention to. That changed drastically however when he’d been outed. The person he had a crush on tricked him. And he ended up as the school’s laughing stock for months.

Someone penciled his name in the boy’s toilet door. For free BJs contact Gabriel Ward. There’s a crude drawing accompanying the message. Once the news got out, it spread like wildfire. He had been the school's punching bag ever since.

His home life wasn't much different minus the hostility. Mostly, it was just him and his books. Reading had always been his out. At least, when he reads, he wouldn't be too aware of the silence surrounding him. The lack of attention, love, and affection. Sometimes, it feels like he's living in an empty house.

So he read and fantasized. Maybe it's not a very boyish thing to do, but he dreamt of one day having someone by his side when he reads. Someone who would touch his hands or play with his hair unconsciously. They don't have to talk, but their presence speaks a thousand words.

He was so deprived of human touch; one that doesn't threaten bodily harm on him that when he met Lucas, Gabriel had thought he was the answer to everything. But it turns out, Lucas is just another form of hell. A more painful one. Because Gabriel had loved him. And he honestly believed Lucas felt the same. Even when he sold him out, he convinced himself it's just a different form of love. And he craved it. Whatever little affection Lucas decided to throw his way, Gabriel gobbled it up, starved.

He had always lived a lonely life. Never known or experienced any differently. To be honest, he's terrified. Part of him is scared that what he feels for Chase or what they have aren't real. That it's another illusion, another trick. He doesn't trust himself to see things for what they are anymore. What if he's lying to himself again? What if he's so broken from what happened yesterday that he clings to the next thing he sees? What if he's some kind of parasite that needs to latch onto something to live because he can't do it by himself? No matter how toxic the relationship is, he'll endure because that's what he is?

He shakes his head, ridding himself of these depressing thoughts. He can't think like this. If he goes down this path, he thinks he might kill himself. And he doesn't want to. He wants to live. He wants to find love and grow old together. He wants a big family, to have children and grandchildren. He wants to go to his grave smiling because he had lived a long full life with no regrets. He wants all those things, and he won't get them if he continues in this line of thinking. So he shakes them off and closes his eyes.

Chase is different. He's a good man. He's not using Gabriel. Chase's not gaining anything by being his boyfriend except his love and affections. He had not made any demands or requests of him apart from his steadfast belief that Gabriel's good. He wanted Gabriel to see himself the way Chase does, to not be afraid to stand up for himself. Gabriel is still having a hard time digesting that but the funny thing is, Chase believes in him. Even when he is such a mess, Chase trusts him. And he loves him. And that in itself is a miracle. He should hold on to that.

Gabriel opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling, feeling lighter. He doesn't know what he did to deserve Chase, but he's glad for his presence in his life. There's a dopey smile on his face when someone knocks on the door. He glances towards it, hopeful. Chase did say he's going to visit him today. But it isn't Chase at the entrance.

Instead, it's Anna. She's standing by the open door, a nervous smile on her face. "May I come in?" she asks. The room Gabriel is occupying is empty except for him; his roommate having left the hospital early this morning. He nods and tries to sit up, wincing as the small movement causes his ribs to scream in protest. Anna is by his side in an instant, her hands on his arms as she helps him adjust to the new position. Once settled, he smiles up at Anna.

"Thank you, Anna," he says, grateful for her company albeit a little surprise. "How did you know I'm here?"

"Lucas. But he didn't tell me what happened." Anna's eyes roam over him, widening in horror as she takes in the ugly bruises covering his body. They have turned a dark blue color, almost purplish. In a softer voice, she asks, "How are you feeling?" She takes a seat in the chair by his bed.

"Better," he answers. It's the truth. He does feel better. He is still in pain but he's healing. He's alive with no permanent damage and for that he's grateful. When Anna doesn't look convinced, he adds, "It looks worse than it actually is." Then, to lighten the mood up, he changes track. "How did you get here?"

"By bus. Lucas gave me money for groceries. There were some left, and I was worried. I have to come and see you. You know, just to be sure you didn't die on us or anything. Plus, I thought you might appreciate the company," Anna says with a broad smile. "Also, someone needs to bring you your homework. You don't get to slack off just because you're in the hospital. So, are you up for it?" Anna asks, cocking one eyebrow up.

Gabriel appreciates Anna's attempt at making this seem casual. But he knows. He knows what a big gesture this is but he plays along because if he doesn't, he thinks he might cry. So he laughs. "And here I was expecting flowers or maybe a fruit basket but no, you brought me homework," he jokes back, giving Anna a warm smile. Then, more sincerely he says, "Thank you, Anna.

Anna just waves him off and bends down to fumble in her bag, pulling out a notebook. Gabriel wriggles up the bed, sitting straighter.

"Don't mention it," Anna smiles back, bright and sweet as she hands over her notebook. "These are my notes from today's lesson and the homework we're supposed to do. If you need help understanding my notes, I don't mind staying. We could do our homework together. I only need to be back in like an hour. I wouldn't mind accompanying you until then. If you like, I could drop by every day until you're discharged." As she talks, Anna pulls out more books and spreads them open around Gabriel's bed, careful to avoid his injuries. Gabriel huffs as he watches Anna, amused.

"I would love to, but unfortunately, my books aren't here."

Anna looks up at him, a cunning expression on her face. "What? Did you think I came all the way here to geek out with you without actually bringing you your things?" She smirks, holding up a bag. Gabriel blinks.

"Wow, Anna! I don't know what to say but thank you!" As he makes a grab for his bag, he pulls a sore muscle causing him to hiss in pain. Anna holds up a hand to stop him. "Alright, Romeo. You take it slow. Let me do all the work, okay? Now, lie back," she shushes Gabriel, ignoring his protests before proceeding to pull books out of his bag. Instead of passing them to him though, she grabs a pillow from the other bed, lays it on his lap and props his hardcover notebook on top of it.

Gabriel looks up at Anna, feeling touched; an overwhelming rush of gratitude threatens to drown him. He can't help it. Averting his gaze, he looks down at the book in his lap, eyes stinging with tears. Anna's thoughtfulness surprises him, her actions careful and deliberate so as to not cause him more pain. Like his well being is at the forefront of her mind. After months of being treated like an object, the feeling is so alien, Gabriel feels slightly off kilter, unsure of what to do with this sudden consideration. He's conflicted.

His first instinct is to feel unworthy. He knows Anna is being kind but the concept of that attentiveness being directed at him makes him feel uneasy. It feels odd to have someone be nice to him, and he wrings his hands in agitation, feeling his restlessness mounts. Anna rambles on about something or other their English teacher did that day as she continues to pile books on his bed, oblivious to his inner turmoil. He needs to do something. A favor maybe? Something to repay Anna for her kindness. Yes, that's it, he thinks as he finds himself blurting, "Hey, Anna?"

"Hm?" Anna stops mid-sentence and looks up.

Gabriel swallows the lump in his throat and plows on, speaking fast. "When I get better, I promise I will try to take on as many clients as I can. If there's anything I can do for you at all, just let me know. I'll take the bench again if I have to. I know clients are still coming in and with me stuck in the hospital, they're all going to you and the others-" he breaks off, shocked. "They're all going to you and the others," he repeats as if realizing it for the first time.

"Because of me. Because I was stupid enough to get assaulted. I'm so sorry, Anna. And Tess. Chase. You all don't deserve this and I-" he babbles, tearing freely now, guilt consuming him as the reality of the situation sinks in. He doesn't deserve Anna's kindness at all. Why is Anna even here? She should be hating him right now.

Anna waves her hands in front of his face, demanding his attention. When he finally looks up, he's taken aback by Anna's anger; her face pale and angry, eyes blazing. "Gabriel, if you're not already so banged up, I'll shake your stupid self-sacrificing body so hard you see stars," she hisses.

"What the fuck? You think that's what I care about? Gabriel, I'm offended. I came here because I wanted to see you!" Gabriel opens his mouth to argue, but Anna doesn't let him. "Just because my opinion of you changed after you took my place on the bench doesn't mean that I expect that of you again, Gabriel. What you did for me, it shows the kind of person you are, and that is a person I would like to be friends with. I'm treating you like I would treat any friend of mine because I thought we were friends. You're not buying my friendship with sexual favors. I'm insulted if you think that," Anna finishes sadly.

Gabriel thinks he's going to burst into tears, his face feels hot and red. He's fucking this up, isn't he? He finally got himself a friend, and he had to go and fucked it all up because he had been insecure, unwilling to accept the possibility that Anna wanted to be his friend because of him, nothing else. But who can blame him for thinking otherwise when everyone he came into contact with all wanted something from him?

His father wanted his obedience to be the perfect son. Who would only take time from work to talk to him when he got As for his subjects. Or at a parent-teacher meeting when his teacher would praise him, and his father would beam at him, proud. And Lucas, who wanted his submission, to be his bargaining chip. Who would only touch him when he's fucking him and only seemed happy when Gabriel does what he's told. So who could blame him for thinking Anna would be the same? Except she's not. And he screwed up.

Tears streamed down his face. He knows he must be a pathetic sight, eyes puffy and swollen from crying. His nose and cheeks are flushed red. He has to look away, can't watch the quiet disappointment coloring Anna's features. "I'm sorry," he whispers. Soft fingers tilt his chin up, forcing him to face its owner. Anna is watching him with wide, sad eyes. "We're friend, right?" she asks, voice soft.

Gabriel's heart clenches painfully as more tears spill out. He nods, unable to make his voice work. Anna smiles then, "Then stop crying, you baby." She fumbles in her bag again, bringing out a packet of tissue. Anna pulls one out and hands it to Gabriel who takes it, staring at her, unable to believe his good fortune. He croaks out a laugh. He must look ridiculous, half-laughing, half-crying, but that's exactly how he feels.

"Oh gawd," he says as he wipes the tears away. "I muz look disgusting rite now. I'm zorry." He blows his nose. Anna laughs, settling back into her chair; book propped up on her thighs. Gabriel blows his nose a few more times and throws all the snot-filled tissues into the trash can beside his bed, grimacing. Then, feeling sheepish but much better, he meets Anna's eye. "Would you be so kind as to update me on our lessons today?" he asks. Anna beams, her beautiful face lights up.

"Of course," she says, all formal and prima as she scoots her chair closer to his bed. He opens the front cover of his notebook and turns the pages until he reaches a blank one. Anna starts to explain what was being covered today and Gabriel listens, a smile on his face as he watches the avid expression on his friend's face. He has never been more glad that this fiery hair girl had fumbled and stumbled her way into his life. This girl who appears fragile but is strong despite everything, with an aged look in her eyes that says she'd seen too much but in that moment, she's flawless.

As they browse through Anna's note together, working on their homework, he feels less alone in the world. Like maybe he finally found a place he belongs. In a group home which is not a group home at all, with a friend who is not your typical high schooler and a boyfriend who wants him to believe in himself. It's not perfect. It's weird, but it's okay. Because no matter how low he'd sunk, he had people around him who cared. People like Chase and Sam. Anna. His new family. It's small, but Gabriel couldn't be happier.

---

"Chase! Chase!"

Someone is calling his name, and as much as he wants to answer he couldn't lift his head. His body feels weak, his brain foggy, his mouth dry. He coughs; a throaty sound. His throat feels raw, dry and parched. Chase tries to swallow what little saliva he can gather. Not enough. He winces as the barely-there moisture dries halfway down his inflamed windpipe, scraping the inside raw.

It's painful, and he stops immediately. His head feels heavy, and the person is still screaming his name. He tries moving his fingers. They feel numb so are his toes. He keeps breathing, preparing himself. Then he opens his eyes. It's difficult. His eyelids feel heavy, and he may or may not be sweating. He could feel beads of sweat trickling down his face, clinging to his eyelashes.

"Chase! Please wake up. Chase!"

His eyes snapped open. He recognizes that voice. His vision is blurry, and he's looking down at his jeans-clad thighs. His t-shirt is clinging to his back; sweat soaked. He blinks and his vision clears. Mostly. He tries to move but finds that he couldn't. His brain is working too slow for him to grasp why. He groans; a small pathetic sound that echoes through the room. Huh.

He flicks his eyes to the side, taking in the black surroundings. It would seem like he's sitting under a spotlight of some sort because two meters away from him on all sides, it's dark. Just pitch black lasting forever. It could be the reason he's sweating so much. Now that he's aware of it, he can feel the scorching beam of the light on his neck. He keeps his breathing steady and flicks his eyes up.

There's a pair of shoes in front of him. Huh, small feet. A child's feet. He frowns when he notices that said feet are tied to the front two legs of a chair. Why would anyone tie a child up? An itch tickles his throat, and he starts coughing, a harsh continuous stream. It feels like he's trying to hack up a lung. Jesus. He's wheezing by the end of it. He really needs to drink; he's so thirsty. Licking his chapped lips, he tastes blood where it had split.

He feels terrible. His head is spinning, the lights hurt. His insides feel like they're burning. He gasps, breathes shallow and whistling. Desperation clings to him and he really doesn't want to be alive right now. He can't take this. His body starts to shake, despair settling in. Please... He needs. Someone. Something. Anything. Panting like a crazed man, he forcibly lifts his head enough to stare at the person sitting opposite him. His world stops. Chase must be hallucinating because this can't be. He blinks, trying to get rid of the sweat clinging to his lashes and stares. He's still there. No, please.

"Sammie?" His voice comes out a broken whisper.

"Chase!" Sam cries. He's sitting in the chair opposite him, arms tied behind his back. His face is red and tear-stained. Sam had been crying. The sight spurs him into action. Chase jerks in his chair, pulling at the tie-rips binding him. His first instinct is to get to Sam. It doesn't matter that he's dehydrated, that his body feels like it's on fire. He struggles, grunting and puffing as the chair jerks in its place. Blood starts to seep down his wrists where the tie-rips cut into them.

"Chase, stop! You're hurting yourself." But Chase doesn't care, he keeps trashing. "Chase, please. You're bleeding... I'm scared," Sam says in a small voice, sobbing, breaking his sentences. It's only then that Chase stops. He stares up helplessly at his little brother, who's crying again. Dammit, Chase. "I'm scared..." Sam sobs.

"Hey, hey!" Chase tries, catching Sam's eyes. "Hey buddy, it's going to be alright, okay? I'm here. I'm not going to let anything happen to you." Sam keeps crying. "Do you trust me, Sammie?" he asks. With tears streaking down Sam's puffy cheeks, he nods, drawing his bottom lip in and gnaws. "Then trust me when I say we're going to be fine. I'll get us out of here, okay buddy?"

He waits for Sam to nod again before he turns his head to look around, taking in his surroundings. If he's not mistaken, they are sitting in a large empty room if the echos are anything to go by. Chase can't see further than where the spotlight is shining, which is right at them. He looks to the ground. It's cement.

Breathing hard, he asks, "Sammie, how did you get here?"

"We finished school. I- I was walking to the school bus with Amelia. Then, a man came up to us. Asked Amelia if she had seen his dog. He had pictures and everything. Amelia loves dogs, and she was sad that he's missing so she helped him search. I told her not to follow strangers, but she's afraid for the dog. What if he gets run over by a car? So she went with him. I stayed, Chase. Like you told me too. But- but..." Sam's lip trembles even as he tries hard not to cry.

"Hey, hey. It's okay, buddy. You did good. You listened. Whatever happens, just tell me okay?" He uses his soothing voice, although it lacks the effect he wanted because of how croaky it is, cracking in places. It seems to work though because Sam swallows and puts on his big boy face.

"Someone grabs me from behind. I screamed and kicked at him, but he was so big! He carried me to his van. The windows were so black you can't even see inside. He threw me in and locked the door. There was another man inside. He- he tied me up. It hurts..." Sam closes in on himself, his eyes darting down before they meet Chase's again. "They drove for a while and then the man carried me out to this huge building and then I saw you, Chase! You're already here; all tied up and you're not answering! I thought-" Shakily, he says, "I thought you left me like Mom did."

Chase's heart breaks. "Sammie, I promised I'll never leave you, remember? And do you know me to break my promises?" he asks. Sam shakes his head. "Okay, good. Remember that." He pauses, looking around some more but seeing nothing, he asks, "Can you describe the men for me?"

Sam's eyes widened. "I'll try. The one who grabbed me was a blonde. He has like brownish eyes. And the other one, inside the car, he's black. And he has these scary eyes. They are both huge, Chase. Like really big. The man in the car told me things. But I don't understand. He just kept mentioning your name. And Gabe's too!" Sam's eyes widen in terror. "Did he get Gabe too?!"

Chase's heart hammers at the mention of Gabriel. There's no way Gordon could have gotten his hands on him. He's at the hospital where it's safe. "Gabe's fine, Sammy. He is with people who will protect him. He's safe." But then again, he had thought Sam was safe and looked at what happened. Maybe Gordon did got his hands on Gabriel and is now-

He doesn't want to think about it. It's the panic talking, Chase. Just stay calm and keep your head. What did Dad always teach him? Stay sharp and alert. If you see an opportunity, escape. And do not, for whatever reason, do what the kidnapper says. They'll just kill you after. He glances at Sam. They will realize soon enough that Sam's missing. He just needs to stall until help arrives. Okay, he can do this and they'll be o- His heart stops as the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoes in the distance.

"Chase, do you hear that?" Sam whispers, scared.

"Shhhh," he hushes. He pricks his ear, trying to determine where the footsteps are coming from when a bright light streams into the room, blinding him for a second. Someone is standing at the door. The daylight throws his outline in sharp contrast, casting his face in shadows. Whoever it is closes the door and the light vanishes even as the footsteps draw louder, gloomy and foreboding. Chase squints into the darkness and before long, he could see the shadow of a body walking towards them. Gordon steps into the light, smiling.

"Chase! You're up! And I see you've met my present for you," he smiles wider, white teeth shining.

"What do you want?" Chase yells desperately even though it's more of a rasp than an actual shout.

"I need you to do something for me," Gordon says, shrugging.

"Fuck you," Chase spits.

Gordon laughs. A loud, cold sound. "If you don't do this, Chase. I think it's fuck Sammie here." Chase's blood runs cold. He glares at Gordon then glances at Sam, who's shaking in his chair but still has his tough face on. He's trying so hard to be brave for Chase. To face down the bad guys with his big brother. Them against the world. Always. Chase feels his resolve breaks. He can't let anything happen to Sam. He's too young. Something like that could leave a permanent scar, and it would be his fault. I'm sorry, Dad.

Clenching his jaw, he glares up at Gordon. Gordon cocks an eyebrow. "Well?" he asks.

Unwilling to give up without a fight, he asks, "How the hell did you know about Sam? Who told you?" If he survives this, the bastard is going to pay. He suspects Ramsay. He's the only one who knew and the last time he heard the man, he'd been talking to Gordon. But Chase needs to be sure.

"I don't think you're in any position to make any demands, Chase. But I'm feeling charitable today. So I will tell you. His name is Hellhound."

"What the hell kind of name is that? And don't lie to me, Gordon. You can just tell me it's Ramsay. That son of a bitch doesn't care about loyalty."

"If it's Ramsay I would say it's Ramsay. But it's not. I have no incentive to lie to you," Gordon lifts his shoulders up. Chase glares at him, mind whirring. Who the hell is Hellhound? And how does he know about Sam? Or Chase for that matter? Who else knows about them? What the hell is going on? "If it helps, I'm quite sure Hellhound isn't his real name. But that's what he goes by in the business. It's not my fault that you don't know him," he adds. "Now, back to business. Are you in or are you out, Chase? And believe me, there's a right answer." Chase stubbornly remains silent, but he averts his eyes.

"I thought so," Gordon sneers, triumphantly.

[PERSONAL] Back from vacation!

Phew a vacation with a lil kid is more like work lmao but we managed to enjoy alot of family time together and build up our relationships again ^^ too bad I can't upload videos here cause I made more of that than pictures XD and you can lil guy being super proud of himself lmao

I'll start working again on Monday or maybe tomorrow night! Gotta catch my breath again after the holiday lmao 😅😅😅

[ANNOUNCEMENT] Family Vacay!

Shinji is nearly two and this will be our first family trip ever! XD The first days feels like work lol so much to pack and unpack and prepare when you're going with a kid XD Fingers cross we will be able to relax and chill 🥰🥰🥰 which means there won't be anynupdate this week I think but don't worry, I'll make up for it next week when I'm back!! 😘😘😘

[TIER 15] [TIER 20] May post incoming!

Sending April and May stuff in one go! So those who havent got April stuff yet, they will be in this batch!

[TIER 10] MWR: Beast Mode Punk

When we are all used to the sweet and or comedic love making from Punk X Nerd and now it finally happened. Punk's switch flipped XD and Nerd is having a blast lmao XD Some more kinkier sex from these two sweetie >:D

[MERCH] Guess who's here? XD

Just in time for PRIDE MONTH! Nerd's sample just came in! And he's so cute lmao! He looks so right beside Punk tho Punk is like HUG ME with his arms out and Nerd is like so nerdy XD XD XD Hope you like how he turned out! We had to make a lot of Nerd samples because his hair is hard to capture! This is the end results! So save those $$$ cause he'll be available soon! In PRIDE MONTH! <3

[PREVIEW] MWR up!

Happy Pride Month! <3 Nothing says more pride than two people in love just enjoying their relationship with one another <3

[TIER 2] MWR: All The Gay Things

When people make gay sounds like a bad word, you go home and make it sounds like the best thing ever XD Happy Pride Month!!!

[TIER 10] IATL: Chapter 17

Warning for drugs, violence and rape. 

---

"Ramsay."

"Lucas."

Lucas is sitting across from the pompous man, and they have been staring at each other for awhile now, both silently accessing. Ramsay smiles and leans forwards, elbows on the table. "So what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"How did your associates enjoy the party Saturday night? I assume my boys are accommodating?"

"Ah, yes," Ramsay nods, looking pleased. "They are very fine indeed. Especially Chase. He still has some fight in him, but that's what I like. To see the fire in his eyes but knows there's nothing he can do about it. I dare say Chase is my favorite. Alastair sure knows how to pick them." Ramsay leans back into his armchair. "But I'm assuming this is not just a social call? What can I do for you?"

"Always the businessman, I see. Good, straight to the point. I like it." Lucas pauses, pursing his lips. He has to choose his words carefully. The situation is delicate. Ramsay is his business partner and associate and like Zael, he doesn't want to piss the man off. But then again, he needs the info. He has to approach the matter with caution. "I need to find someone called Gordon Walker. And I've been told you might know where to find him."

At Walker's name, Ramsay's features stiffens, and his body language becomes frigid. But he composes himself fairly quickly and adjusts his position in his seat. "And what purpose do you have with this man?" At that, Lucas breathes a sigh of relief. At least, Ramsay isn't denying knowing the man. Lucas might still be able to pry Walker's location from him.

"He attacked Gabriel. He and his men gang raped him," he explains, making sure to emphasize on the severity of the situation, his tone grave and somber. Ramsay appears surprised by the news, shock coloring his face.

"What? When did this happen?"

"Last night."

Ramsay seems to process the information, brows furrowing. Then, he stares up at Lucas, expression serious. "How do you know it's him?" Lucas takes out his mobile phone from the inside of his jacket's pocket and unlocks the screen. Then, he looks up the picture of Walker Zael had sent over last night and hands the mobile to Ramsay.

"Bollocks!"

Ramsay curses when he sees the picture. He shoves the mobile angrily back at Lucas, face twisted in frustration and displeasure. "That man can't keep it in his pants for one goddamn second!" he rants. Swirling towards Lucas, he asks. "Is the police already involved with this?" Lucas nods and Ramsay lets out a string of expletives. He reaches out for his phone and pauses, glancing up at Lucas. "There's something I need to take care of. We'll talk later."

"If you could just tell me where Walker is currently at, I'll be out of hair."

"That won't be possible," Ramsay says, slow and deliberate, his eyes serious.

Lucas narrows his eyes. "He hurt Gabriel. He has to pay," he says in a quiet voice. They stare into each other's eyes, both determined to have their way. The air grows thick around them, the tension in the room increases tenfold. Ramsay's mouth thins and he sours. "You'll have the information. Just not now."

And understanding dawns on Lucas. They're doing the exchange right now. That's why Ramsay is so stressed. His heartbeat quickens. Should he wait and trust Ramsay to hand Walker to him later? Or should he try and pry the information right now? "I don't want him to get away, Ramsay. That's not how I work. You hurt my men; you pay the price. Tell me where he is."

Ramsay's nostril flares. "How dare you come into my office and demand things of me," he barks. "Do you know who I am?" he bellows. "I can crush you."

The sudden outburst from the man surprises him but does not scare him. Keeping his face calm and collected, he leans forward and says softly, almost a whisper yet commands the attention of the room, "So can I."

Ramsay looks outraged. "Is that a threat? Are you threatening me?" He points a finger towards the door. "Get out! Get out of my office!" he shouts.

Sighing, Lucas stands. He screwed up. The man is on the defense now, and there goes any hope of acquiring any information out of him. He hopes he hadn't just ruined their partnership. Giving Ramsay a slight nod of the head, he takes a step back. "Of course," he says demurely, hoping to appease the man. Lucas isn't afraid of him. Like he said, he can crush him like a bug if he wants to, but unfortunately, he needs Ramsay. He'll just have to suck up and play politics.

Ramsay gives him a harumph and indicates the door, showing his dismissal. But he does seem less furious and indignant. Lucas takes it as a good sign and leaves the office.

What a waste of time. And nothing to show for it. Michael is going to be so annoying, he laments. They have decided to split. Lucas on Ramsay and Michael on Hellhound. Part of him hopes Michael fails too, just so that he doesn't have to deal with his smugness; Michael is not going to let him live this down. Not for a while at least. But then he remembered. Michael won't even be around to rub his face in, long gone once the case is done. The prospect leaves a bitter taste in his mouth and a hole in his chest.

So deep in thought, Lucas didn't catch the swirl of red hair and walked straight right into another body. There's a gasp of surprise as they both get their breath knocked out of them. At least, they're still on their feet. The redhead brings her face up and shining green eyes widens as she recognizes him.

"Anna," he acknowledges, adjusting his leather jacket.

"Lucas." Anna casts her eyes downwards, long red curls cascading down over her face. Anna is pretty, almost ethereal like an angel. She's a favorite among the clients. Slowly, Anna raises her head once more, big eyes curious. "What are you doing here?" She claps a hand over her mouth, her expression stricken. Then, she ducks her head, trying to make herself seem smaller. Alastair trained her well. It pains him to acknowledge that.

"Something happened last night. Gabriel was hurt. He's at the hospital now so he won't be cooking tonight." Remembering that fact, he reaches into his jacket and pulls out his wallet. "There's no more leftovers from Saturday. Could you prepare dinner for tonight? I might not be back until tomorrow," he says, handing her two twenty notes.

The group home works on a rooster. The children are responsible for household chores like laundry, cooking, cleaning and gardening. It gives them a sense of responsibility. Gabriel likes to cook, and he does a good job of it, so it's usually him preparing their meals. The rest rotates around chores. They're free to switch as long as the chores get done.

And ever since he started his side business, he had only trusted Gabriel with the money. Since the home houses a number of people, the amount of cash needed for groceries is substantial. Enough for someone to buy a bus ticket and skip town. But considering the current circumstances, he thinks he could trust Anna. She always had a soft spot for the little ones at the house. Especially little Amelia. He doesn't think she would leave her.

Anna's eyes widen, reflecting the fluorescent lights above them. "What happened? Is he okay?" she asks, concerned.

"He will be fine," he assures her, adding "I need you to do something else for me. There's a calendar book on my desk. There's a list of clients that will be coming in tonight. Make sure they're entertained. Beside their names are initials. A.M. stands for you, C.R. stands for Chase and so on. So you know who gets who. Can you do that for me?"

He knows it's sadistic of him to ask Anna to pimp herself, but the business needs to go on. He can't afford to throw everything to the wind, not when Michael will leave after. And he still needs the money. No, nothing has changed.

Anna is looking at him with fires in her eyes. Huh, she reminds Lucas of Chase. Guess Alastair never really broke them after all. That's a comforting thought. Nevertheless, "Make sure the clients are happy and satisfied. If I hear otherwise, I don't need to remind you what's going to happen." The fire dims and Anna nods, averting her gaze. "Good." He shoulders past Anna and continues down the hallway towards the exit.

Lucas doesn't like doing this. It makes him feel like a bad person. He knows he is a bad man, and has done enough bad things to warrant himself a place in hell. But still, he hates doing this. To children no less. But he can't be soft. Once the ball starts rolling, there's nothing he can do to stop it. Ramsay wants the children on the streets, wants them for himself. He can't deny the man. He can't afford to show vulnerability. No, this is the way it has to be. It's not like he hadn't had enough practice numbing himself.

Stepping out into the sun, Lucas slips on his sunglasses. He walks towards the back of the building where they parked the car. Michael is already there, leaning against a plain black Toyota Corolla. It's the rental car Michael had used while tracking Gordon from Sioux Falls. As he strides towards Michael, he finds himself absorbing the view in front of him. Knowing the sunglasses hide his eyes, Lucas lets himself stare.

The man before him is the epitome of casual and relaxed as he leans on the side of the car, long legs crossed in front of him and hands in the pocket of his jeans. Michael has his face tilted up towards the sun, eyes closed unaware of his approach. Lucas is determined to keep it that way, slowing down. There's a light scruff, just enough to give him a touch of shadow on his jaws. His black hair gleams in the sunlight, curling around his forehead, softening his features.

Michael had taken off his leather jacket and is now clad only in a plain black t-shirt. It doesn't hang off his body nor does it clings too tight. Fit just enough to hint at the muscles underneath; the broad shoulder and flat stomach. Lucas lets his gaze wander to his sturdy arms, admiring the strength in them. They've sparred before, and he knows how it feels like to be wrapped in those arms. In contrast with his dark hair, Michael has pale skin. A mixture of peaches and cream.

Michael sucks in a deep breath and Lucas stutters in his movements. The dip in his collarbones hollows and Lucas wonders what it feels like to press the flat of his tongue there. To lick a wet stripe up Michael's neck and lap at the salty skin. To be able to taste his heady musk instead of just smelling it. Imagine what it's like to kiss up that long thick neck. Marvel at the bizarre feeling of someone else's scruff rubbing against his own. Then, he would dip down and take those soft pink lips into his mouth-

Lucas blinks, stopping in his tracks, his heart thudding heavily in his chest. There's a tightness in his pants, and his breaths are shallow and haggard. He feels hot and he thinks he can feel his cheeks burning. Did he just sexually fantasized about Michael? Was that a twitch he felt in his pants? He shifts, trying to adjust himself. But as his half hard erection presses against the zipper, he can't help but shudders, the friction doing nothing to curb the sudden stirring in his guts. For the love of all God, control yourself!

He prays Michael is still oblivious to what's going on in his pants. Closing his eyes and biting down on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, he takes in a deep breath and exhales. He thinks of dead bodies and mutilated remains of tortured victims. The pressure against his zipper subsides immediately. Opening his eyes, he can feel his mortification mellow out and the heat on his cheeks subside. Feeling much steadier, he approaches Michael, who's blissfully unaware of the earth-shattering moment he went through.

Michael chooses the moment to look down, probably sensing Lucas's distress by proximity. Lucas schools his expression to one of appropriate frustration, not that it's hard to do considering. "I've got nothing. Ramsay refused to budge," he sulks. "The only thing I managed to glean off from him is that the exchange is taking place now."

"I know," Michael says simply. He's radiating smugness and Lucas's eyes narrow, giving him an unimpressed look. "I talked to Hellhound. He mentioned that, and he also said he's willing to tell us the location." Feeling relieved, Lucas asks. "So where is it?" Michael nods at something behind him. Turning around, he sees a figure approaching them. It's a boy. Dark brown skin. Perfectly styled spiky hair.

Michael straightens up. "Hellhound," he greets. "You said you have something for me."

The boy nods, his eyes darting around the place. "It wasn't safe to talk inside."

"I understand. But nothing is stopping you out here. So, where's the exchange?" Michael asks. Lucas stands back and stays silent. This is Michael's show now.

The boy reaches into his jacket. Lucas tenses, hand automatically flexing to reach for the gun he keeps holstered at the bottom of his right leg. The boy notices the twitch and smirks, brown eyes cocky. "Tell your buddy to relax." He pulls out a folded piece of paper. "Here," he says, handing it to Michael.

"Why are you helping us all a sudden?" Lucas asks, can't help but be suspicious of the kid's motive. The smile on the kid's face is villainous. "No one replaces me." He flicks his eyes back to Michael. "Just promise me you screw up the exchange. Screw it up big time, I don't care how you do it," His expression is angry and bitter. "Just that you do."

Michael nods. Hellhound gives them a mock salute, turns and walks away without another word. Once he's out of earshot, Michael turns around and shrugs, "I guess once Ramsay knew he was compromised, he sent someone else." He starts to unfold the paper. "See? It's not all a loss," he says, frowning down at the maplike printout. It's a set of directions printed from Google Map. Lucas moves closer.

"You've got to be kidding me," he mutters. He can't believe this.

There, on the destination box, it reads: Lullaby Blues Motel.

---

Voices filter through his consciousness. Just noises, harsh and loud and angry. Chase can't make out what is being said. They sound distant, far away. Like how the radio in the car sometimes gets when his dad drives down a long stretch of highway in the middle of nowhere. Static filtering in at odd places. Music distorted, sounding eerier than they have any right to be.

He tries to focus, to listen, but his head hurts like a stampede had come and went leaving a steady pounding that echoes on and on. In fact, it does feel like he'd been run over by a herd of buffaloes; his body heavy and limp. Chase groans and tries to open his eyes. What happened? He moves to rub his eyes but realizes he can't. Something is holding him back. His eyes snap open, panicked as he automatically starts to struggle.

He trashes when he realizes that he's tied to a chair. Dread fills him slowly as he takes in the unforgiving tie-rip around his wrists and ankles. Chase snaps his head up, his eyes darting around the room, landing on the black man by the foot of the bed. His back is facing Chase. There's an open duffel bag on the bed beside him, stuffed full with clothes, cash and what appears to be packets of white powder. Drugs.

The man shifts then, and Chase's eyes widen at the sight of a gun in his hands. He doesn't seem too bothered by Chase's struggles nor even hint at noticing him. There's a click as the man reloads the gun. Alarm bells ring in his head, adding to the cacophony already there. Chase is starting to panic. Is the man going to shoot him? Oh god, is it going to hurt? It's going to hurt like a son of a bitch, isn't it? He tenses when the man turns around and only relaxes when he just tosses the gun into the duffel bag.

The voice that woke him up continues to drone on even though the man doesn't seem to be speaking. For a while there, Chase thinks he's hallucinating. He must have hit his head harder than he thought. But then he notices the lighted mobile phone lying on the bed and realizes that the voice he's hearing comes from the speaker. And that voice has a British accent.

Ramsay!

Chase tries to yell for help, but what comes out is a muted cry. Screaming in frustration only to be muffled by the gag in his mouth, Chase sags. Breathing hard, he tries again, getting frustrated when nothing happens. He starts crying, twisting and struggling against the tie-rips. It's getting harder to breathe. His nose is clogged with snot, and he can't breathe through his mouth. The cloth is sucking all the moisture there and he feels dry and parched. At the same time, he can't stop drooling; saliva steadily leaks down his chin.

"What's that sound? Is that Chase? Bloody hell, what did you do to him?" Ramsay's voice sounds tiny coming from the small device. A small spark of hope soars through Chase and he clings to it. Ramsay knows where he is. He's not going to die. The man wouldn't dare kill him. Not when there's a witness. Right? He's not going to be leaving Sam. And Gabriel. Ohgod, Gabriel!

The video. His stomach roils as he remembers, gurgling dangerously. He's going to be sick. Panicking but unable to stop the lurch in his stomach nor the bile that rises up his throat, Chase pukes. I'm going to suffocate, he thinks once he realizes there's no place for the vomit to go. He makes a gagging sound, choking around the cloth in his mouth, dribble of puke seeping out at the corner. He coughs and splutters violently, unable to stop the seizure as his stomach continues to heave.

"Oh mother fuck, hang on." The cloth in his mouth is yanked out and Chase spews bile all over the floor as he gasps, trying to suck in as much air as possible while still coughing and floundering. Tears roll down his face as snot, saliva and puke cover the front of his shirt. There's a puddle of sick on the carpet between his legs. His whole body is trembling as small hiccups bubble out of him. Despite that, Chase manages to choke out. "Help..." His voice is raspy, more like a croak.

The man turns away in disgust, striding back towards the duffel, picking up his pace now. Zipping up the bag, he picks up the two briefcases from the floor and tosses it onto the bed.

"Gordon, what in the bloody hell is happening over there? Answer me!"

"Your boy just decided to puke all over himself. Where's Hellhound? I missed the guy." The man- Gordon sounds flippant, amused even like he's not in the least bothered by everything that's going on in the room. He flashes Chase a smile, a grin from ear to ear that not so much as even touches his eyes. Chase's blood chills. This man is a fucking psycho! "The bitch you sent me got balls. I'll give him that. He kicked me in the nuts!" he laughs. The hair on the back of Chase's neck stands.

"I'm doing business with morons," Ramsay mutters. "Alright, listen. There are some pretty awful people coming after you. And I don't want to get stuck in the middle as you can see how that would be bad for business. So here's the deal," he pauses for effect before letting out an impressive shout, "Give Chase my coke and get the hell out of dodge!"

"Chase? You're Chase?" Gordon cocks an eyebrow at him. "Not as fierce as Hellhound, but okay, Chase is cool." He smiles that crazy smile again. The light catches in his eyes. Both pupils are dilated. Shit, the man's high as fuck. Gordon turns his attention back to his mobile. "Who's coming after me?" he asks, voice serious, his gait alert. Chase blinks at the sudden change in demeanor.

"Lucas. Apparently you attacked one of his whores yesterday. Blue eyes? The face of an angel?"

"Ah, yes I remembered. Sweet boy. A friend of yours, right?" Gordon nods at him, smirking before moving towards the bathroom. Chase frowns after him pumped full with nervous energy. He tries to keep Gordon in sight, but the man disappears behind the door. What is he doing in there?

Chase tries to calm himself down, ignoring the foul stench surrounding him. Ramsay mentioned Lucas. So Lucas knows too. And he's coming for Gordon. Does that mean he knows where they are? Is he coming? Does he know Chase is here?

"Lucas is determined to hunt your ass. And I daresay he will most likely succeed. Normally, I wouldn't give a rat's ass but I do consider you to be a good ally and I don't want to lose my supply. So, why don't you just do what we agreed upon, hand over the goods to Chase and we can forget this ever happened and meet again next month. Preferably in better circumstances. I don't think I'm asking too much. So why are we still talking?" Ramsay seems to be at his wits end if his shouts are any indication.

Gordon walks back out the bathroom, a bottle in one hand and a cloth in the other. His face is dark, displeased. "Lucas," he scoffs. "Never heard of the guy. I'm not afraid of him. He wants to come, let him come. I would love to pick his bones," he says, pouring the content of the bottle onto the cloth.

"Morons," Ramsay mutters again.

"Tell Hellhound to come to the Denny's around the corner. Wait out back. Be there in-" He looks at his watch. "10 minutes. You'll have your goods then."

"And Chase?"

Gordon smiles. "Chase is staying." The dam that has been holding back his panic and fear, the one that is still harboring hope breaks, flooding him with icy cold terror. "If Lucas is so riled up when I hurt one of his little whores. What happens when I hurt two?" Gordon grins as he approaches him, his movement predator-like. He pours more of the content in the bottle onto the cloth, soaking it.

Staring at the cloth, he finally gets it. Gordon is going to knock him out. And there's no way Chase can stop him. He's dead. Chase's done for. With that final thought, he finally breaks. It's all or nothing. Chase doesn't give a fuck anymore. He laughs, a booming sound, shoulders shaking. It doesn't matter that he's sitting in his own sick and covered in puke, he laughs, boisterous and loud.

"Lucas is going to rip you to pieces, you son of a bitch. You're so dead, and you don't even know it," he spits out, sobering. He scoffs, shaking his head in pity. "It's so sad, it's funny." Chase can't believe he's placing his chips on Lucas, the man that started his nightmare in the first place, but he does. Right now, Lucas is like a lifeline and he's holding on tight, desperate to see a way out of this impossible predicament.

Gordon comes to a stop in front of him and leans down, putting his face incredibly close, their nose almost touching. "We'll see about that," he sneers.

Chase has been expecting it but it still shocks him when Gordon covers his mouth and nose with the cloth. The strong smell of ether and chloroform hit him hard. Determined not to struggle, knowing there's no point for it, he holds Gordon's gaze. Chase holds his breath for as long as he can and tries not to inhale the chemical. But it's fruitless. Soon, he can feel the chemical fumes burn up his nostrils and down his throat. Even as he stares into the blackness of Gordon's eyes, he feels himself losing consciousness for the second time today. The darkness calls to him. Chase closes his eyes.

---

"The whole time, Walker is right under our noses. Do you mind explaining how this managed to escape your notice?" Lucas knows his tone is accusing but it is not like Michael at all to be so careless that he failed to detect that the target is staying in the same motel as he is. He never makes such mistakes. Michael is too thorough.

Blue eyes widens, and Michael opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He looks like a lost puppy. Lucas doesn't have the heart to rub it in even if he's angry. Which he isn't. Instead, he feels a stab of concern. "Michael, this is so unlike you." He stares at the man in front of him, bewildered. "Is everything alright?"

Michael blinks up at him, devastated and Lucas almost, almost reaches out and pulls him into a hug. But he didn't. And then, Michael schools his expression, snapping his mouth shut, lips set in a thin line, eyes hard. He can physically see Michael closing in on himself; the change is that obvious. Blue eyes turn cold, face impassive. It's like watching a warrior putting on his steel plates of armor. The helm sliding into place.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I don't know what got into me. How I got to be so distracted that I-" Michael shakes himself. "Walker had been coming to this town for three months but each time he stayed in a different motel. Lullaby Blues is one of them. I assume he would continue in this pattern. That's my fault. I should have been more aware." He looks Lucas right in the eyes, face stoic. "I apologized. That will never happen again. I swear." The look on his face, the seriousness in his eyes, the adamant clench of the muscles around his mouth. It seems more like he's making a promise to himself than to Lucas.

Without another word, Michael gets into the driver seat and starts the car. The sound of the engine roaring to life spurs Lucas into action. Sliding into the passenger seat, he buckles himself in. Michael pulls out from the lot. The car ride is silent, tense. Lucas chances a glance at the man beside him. Michael's eyes are sharp and alert, his movement sure and deliberate and Lucas knows, knows that he had lost him. Job modus Michael is different from the Michael who complains about cold feet in the winter. He doesn't know why he's whining. Maybe it's because he misses the easy camaraderie between them.

Although they're on a time crunch, Michael drives at the speed limit. He flicks on the signals when he has to make a turn, making sure to stop at red lights and slows down for road bumps. Basically, he's obeying all the traffic rules to a fault. It's standard procedure. Michael doesn't want to give the police any reason to stop him.

It's a pretty short drive, plus minus 10 minutes. When they reach the motel, Michael puts the car in park, and they step out into the afternoon sun. The motel seems more intimidating than it was when he's here this morning. Even with the prospect of facing Michael. Crouching down on one knee, he pushes up the hem of his jeans and unholsters his gun. It's a Glock 19, his preferred weapon of choice. Standing up, he tucks it into the waistband of his jeans at the small of his back, taking comfort in its reassuring weight. He's ready as ever. Glancing over at Michael, who nods in affirmation, they proceed to the motel side by side.

The cool air of the motel prickles at the sweat clinging to their skin. They glance around surreptitiously, on the lookout in case Walker is in the area. "We still need his room number," he reminds Michael. They both turn to look at the receptionist. "Okay, you'll distract him, and I'll get onto the computer," Michael informs him.

"Why do I have to distract him?"

"Because you're the more charismatic of the two of us. Now go." Michael nudges him forward with his shoulder. Then, he moves towards the edge of the room, pretending to be busy with his mobile phone. Flustered, Lucas arranges his jacket and walks towards the counter. The boy behind it immediately stands up when he senses his approach. He has ginger red hair, a fair complexion, and bright blue eyes. He looks eager to please. This should be easy.

"How can I help you, sir?" the boy asks, all polite manners. Lucas glances at the name tag on his white button down, with red collars and button. Alfie it reads.

"Alfie, is it?" At the boy's nod, he continues. "Well, my partner is in room 4d, and there seems to be a problem with the water. It's not heating up. And he really needs a shower if you get what I mean. We're all," Lucas lifts his hands and rubs his fingers together. "Sticky."

Alfie blushes, splotchy red coloring his cheeks. "Oh! Yes, um. Here, let me check them for you." Alfie picks up a toolbox from under the counter and gestures towards the elevator. "Come on then. You can show us where the problem is," he says smiling.

Lucas smiles. "Thank you, Alfie." He follows the boy, the corner of his eyes catches Michael darting behind the counter. He makes sure to stand between Alfie and his view of the computer. Not that it's necessary because the boy's gaze is fixed ahead of him. His mobile beeps. Taking it out, he says, "Oh, it seems like my partner got it fixed. I'm sorry to trouble you and waste your time."

"No worries, sir. I'm glad it's solved." Alfie smiles at him and nods. "Have a good day, sir." He walks back towards the counter and after a moment, Michael appears beside him. "Room 5c," he mutters. "And what did you say to the boy? I can see him blushing from here. You didn't flirt with him, did you?" Lucas had already pressed the up button and they're currently waiting for the elevator to arrive.

"I just mentioned that we had sex and needed a shower, but there was no warm water." He doesn't know why he said that but once it's out, he can't help but glance over at Michael to see his reaction. Michael has a stunned look on his face, then a slight blush creeps up his face. The man narrows his eyes at him, annoyed. "You didn't." The blush looks adorable on him, and Lucas finds himself egging him more.

"I did. And you're the bottom." The blush darkens, and Michael scowls at him. Lucas winks just as the elevator dings. The both of them automatically step to the side as the elevator doors open. Lucas has a hand inconspicuously on the butt of his gun, ready. When the doors slide open all the way, revealing it to be empty inside, he relaxes. They get into the elevator, and Michael presses the button for the fifth floor.

"I can't believe you told him that," Michael grumbles as he looks up at the blinking light.

"Why not?"

Michael shrugs. "Because he'll think we're gay."

"Does that bother you?" Even if he's not gay, his heart throbs as he waits for Michael's reply. What if Michael is homophobic? And from how uncomfortable he looks right now, he guesses that Michael is straight. He had always wondered about the man. The two years they had spent together, he had never seen the man get laid. Granted, they're not allowed to bring their hookup back to the house but he had always wondered. That knowledge doesn't do anything to lighten his mood. Instead, it deflates it.

Michael shrugs again. He can tell that this bugs Michael, but he's pretending to be casual about it. His curiosity peaks. "No. But some people believed it to be a sin." Lucas frowns. "Do you believe that?" he asks. Before Michael could answer, the elevator dings again. The two of them move to the side in sync like they're doing an old dance routine. Seeing the empty hallway, they step out together. The tension is piling up, and Lucas can feel the familiar adrenaline rush coursing through his veins.

As they approached the door with number 5c hanging from it, they could hear soft cries coming from the room. They look at each other, both drawing their guns. Then, Michael steps in front of the door and with one swift kick, with the heel of his foot landing beside the knob, the door crashes open. Already familiar with the layout of the room, Michael moves inside, swift and graceful, his arms out in front of him. He first secures the small hallway and then the bathroom. Lucas follows close behind, walking past Michael to secure the main room.

The room is empty. Walker had already left. Lucas lowers his hands as he glances around the room. It smells like vomit in here, and it's immediately confirmed when he sees the puddle of sick drying on the carpet floor. He puts a hand over his nose and tries to breathe in through his mouth. The stench is sour and nauseating. It doesn't take him long to identify the source of the cries. It comes from a movie playing on the wall tv. Moving so that he's standing in front of it, he watches the scene unfold.

Red hot rage seeps into his every pore. His heartbeat races, pumping blood through his veins. His breaths quickens, chest heaving. His throat feels clogged, eyes watering from how intense his gaze is trained on the screen. His jaw hurts from how hard he's grinding down, his teeth gnashing together. The veins on the side of his head throb. The cries die down only to be replaced by a deep buzzing, steadily getting louder and louder in his ears until it threatens to deafen him.

He can't move. His body feels stiff, his back tensed, his spine feels like lead. But his hands, they tremble at his side, shaking so hard his grip on his gun loosens. There's a loud panting noise accompanying the buzz, someone wheezing and gasping. With a jolt, he realizes it was him. It's getting harder and harder to breathe, the air in the room so thick, it feels like he's underwater.

Gabriel is naked and bloody on the restroom floor surrounded by men. The blood stains on the floor and those smearing the wall stand out at him like a flashing neon light. The blood. So much blood. The scene before him blurs, replaced by a familiar setting. Four walls. No windows. A metal door. The smell of human excrement, urine and feces assault his nostrils. His throat bobs, bile threatening to rise up. He knows he's imagining the smell, knows he's in a motel room and not in some 4 by 4 cell lying in his own mess. Consciously, he knows that but he can't stop himself from shaking and the tears from spilling out.

A warm hand on his shoulder draws his attention away from the screen. Michael is standing in front of him, face concerned, blue eyes worried. He's talking, his mouth opening and closing, but Lucas couldn't hear a single thing, the roar in his ear is too loud and all he can do is stare. And stares as tears fall freely down his face. Both of Michael's hands are on his shoulders now, and he's leaning close, keeping eye contact.

Before he knows it, Lucas is being pulled into a hug. Michael wraps his arms around him and grip him tight. Lucas's stunned, momentarily breaking out of the nightmare he's stuck in. His muscles unclench, and suddenly he can't hold himself up any longer. Like a marionette with its strings cut, he collapses. Michael supports most of his weight as he leans heavily into the man. Michael's arms are solid around him, his strength real. With trembling hands, he wraps his own arms around Michael's body, hugging him back with what remaining strength he has.

He shoves his face into the space between Michael's shoulder and neck and closes his eyes. He lets Michael's warmth, so real and so there soothes him. He's afraid, he realizes. He's so afraid. His grip tightens, and Michael hugs him tighter, pulling him in closer. He doesn't know how long they both stand there like that. But it must have been awhile because when he resurfaces, his legs feel wobbly, and his whole body aches like he had been running a marathon.

Throughout his episode, Lucas had remained silent, not letting a single noise out. But as he leans away from Michael, standing on his own two feet, he whispers a hoarse, "Thank you." Michael is still looking at him, concerned, one hand still holding onto Lucas's shoulder. He doesn't say anything, just gives him a small smile and stands back. And for that, Lucas is grateful.

They never talked about what happened to Lucas during his captivity. They both acknowledge that it happened, that it is Lucas's past, his history, but they never talked about it. Michael never asks and Lucas never tells. Michael lingers for a moment, eyes on Lucas like he's worried he might collapse again. He recognizes Lucas's episodes for what it is. A PTSD episode. It happened frequently during the first few months he stayed with Michael.

Still with a wary eye on him, Michael turns around and walks towards the desk. There's an envelope lying on top of it. He picks it up, lifting it up for Lucas to see. On the front of the envelope, in capital letters, is Lucas's name. Shakily, he stumbles towards the desk. They both share a look. Then, reaching for the envelope, grateful that his hands are no longer trembling, he rips it open and takes out the piece of paper inside.

On it are two hand written words. 'Game on.'

[TIER 10] IATL: Chapter 16

Warnings for rape and physical violence.

The words 'Lullaby Blues Motel, Room 5c' is scribbled in cursive on the piece of paper. Figures Ramsay would be the kind of pretentious douchebag with curly calligraphy-like handwriting. Chase feels a little out of sorts as he makes his way to the motel. It hadn't taken him long to google the place and print out the directions at the library. Now holding it in his hands, he can feel the snakes that had been slowly uncoiling in his stomach since he was called to Ramsay's office starts to spit and hiss.

The briefcase feels heavy in his hand, and Chase has half a mind to stuff it in his backpack. Except, it's too huge. He feels guilty just for holding it. Like at any moment now, the cops are going to tackle him. It's not like he hadn't had a run-in with a cop before but that was something different. This feels loaded, much worse. Cold sweat films his forehead and back. He tries not to look too guilty as he walks down the busy streets, keeping his head down. He looks conspicuous enough as it is, a teenager out and about during school hours.

The motel isn't far off from the school grounds. It took Chase around twenty minutes to arrive, power-walking his way through. By the time he steps into the air-conditioned reception area, he's breathing hard. A shiver runs up his spine as the cool air brushes his damp skin. Why the hell would they turn on the air-conditioner this early in spring? It's not even that warm outside. He pulls his leather jacket tighter around himself, shrugging his shoulders.

The place looks as welcoming as a funeral home. Instead of the somber black, Chase's eyes are ambushed by ugly mud brown color tones. The room also lacks a certain decor. No paintings on the wall, the chairs in the 'lobby' are wooden and look uncomfortable. No couches. There is not a plant in sight. Everything seems pretty sterile. He doesn't know what he was expecting, but it's not this. Maybe something more cheesy. Like lewd pictures of naked women and porn magazines scattered around. Maybe even a little porno-ish music in the background.

Ignoring the ginger kid behind the reception desk, Chase heads towards the elevator. He taps a beat with his fingers on his thigh, humming ACDC under his breath. Chase's nervous. He doesn't know who's waiting for him up there. His stomach makes a swan-dive. Is there a code or an etiquette for this? What does he even say? Does he even need to say anything? Or just silently exchange briefcases? God, he's so in over his head. The elevator dings. Chase swallows the lump in his throat and steps inside.

During the short ride up to the fifth floor, he has managed to calm down somewhat. As he exits the elevator and walks towards the daunting door with the 5c on it, he feels a bit steadier. Just rip it off like a band-aid. He takes a deep breath and rings the buzzer. No answer. He leans closer to the door, ear flat against the thin wood. He thought he heard the shower running. Great, whoever it is is taking a fucking shower. It's not like they're about to make a transaction here or whatever. Jesus.

Chase is debating what to do when a voice from inside yells, "Who's there?"

"Um..." Does he say his name? Better not. "Ramsay sent me. I got a briefcase for you?" he explains, rolling his eyes when it comes out sounding like a question. Way to go on making yourself sound like a fucking amateur, Chase. Bravo. Jesus, why can't the man just come to the door? "You're supposed to give me one in return?" Again with the question. Why can't he just state it? Like yes, I am here to deliver this briefcase. And yes, I am here to take a briefcase from you.

There's a pause before the man is yelling again. "The door's unlocked. Make yourself comfortable. I'll be out in a bit." Chase continues to stare at the door, hesitating with an alarmed look on his face. He doesn't want to go in. He just wants to get this done and over with. Sighing dejectedly, he turns the doorknob and pokes his head in. There's a door on his right that is ajar, tendrils of steam swirling out from it. Stepping inside, he closes the door and moves further into the room.

The room itself is quite small. A single bed in the middle, a tv screen hanging from the wall and a small table and chair in a corner. There's a window too, but the curtains are drawn, casting the room in darkness. The only illumination comes from the two small bedside lamps. Chase feels awkward standing in the middle of the room, suddenly unsure of what to do with his hands or as a matter of fact his whole body. Glancing back at the bathroom, the showers still running, he decides that it's going to take awhile.

Blowing the air from his cheeks, he hesitates only briefly before taking a seat on the cushioned chair, placing the briefcase on his lap. On the table is a laptop. The whirring indicates that it's on even though the screen is black. Staring around the room, he fidgets, tapping his feet on the carpet floor, hollowing his cheeks and pursing his lips. He digs out the paper Ramsay had given him and crumbles it into a ball, playing a game of toss and catch with himself. He performs a few complicated tricks. Balancing the paper ball on one foot, he kicks it up into the air. The ball of paper makes a wide curve in the air. Chase tries to keep it in the air with his head, but the paper ball just bobs off his hair and falls with a soft rustle onto the touchpad. The black screen dissolves and the image there captures his attention.

At first Chase isn't sure what he's looking at. The angle is all wrong. He tilts his head a little before the full knowledge of what he's seeing slams into him. A boy is bent almost in half in the middle of a tangle of limbs; Chase is having a hard time distinguishing who is who. His legs are spread obscenely wide, held apart by two bulky arms. He's naked, oh he's so naked. Chase wants to look away, but he can't. He's stuck, unable to move, horrified.

There's another man in between the boy's thighs with his cock balls-deep in him. And what he sees makes him want to puke. There is blood staining the pale skin around the anus and coating the man's engorged penis. That looks like it hurts and it looks a hell of a lot nonconsensual. Without realizing it, his fingers are on the touchpad and with a tap, the image starts to move.

Chase freezes as cries filter out from the laptop, the sound painful and guttural. The boy is crying, sobbing and begging. But the men surrounding him paid him no attention, and continued to jeer as they jerked him around. He can tell how much pain the boy must be in, by the way his limbs are trembling, spasming. His stomach lurches at a particularly nasty thrusts. The boy's cries are muffled even as the violence escalates.

Frozen in his chair, his eyes widen as the camera angle shifts and is directed at the boy's face on the floor. Unseeing blue eyes filled with tears stare back at him. Chase almost falls out of his chair when he recognizes the face. There's no mistaking those baby blues and disheveled hair. That's Gabriel. Jesus mother of all God fuck, that is Gabriel lying there!

Before he knows it, Chase's on his feet, the briefcase falling with a thud to the carpet floor. His mind is screaming at him to look away, to run, but he's physically not able to. A blood-curdling scream tears out the laptop's tiny speaker, chilling him to the bones. He forces himself to look away when the men step on Gabriel, wiping the sole of their dirty shoes onto his skin, his face. Gabriel wouldn't want him to see this. His heart aches with an unspeakable sorrow, and he finally turns himself around. Bending forward, hands on his knees, Chase dry heaves.

The sound of the running shower stops. Chase squints at the door with watery eyes. Then it hits him. He's in the room with Gabriel's rapist! Panic, terror and anger tears at him, blinding him. His eyes dart around desperately, seeking out something, anything that he might be able to defend himself with. The door opens, and he turns around, grabbing the chair and brandishes it above his head, ready to swing.

A man wearing nothing but a towel stands by the opened bathroom door. He has this bemused expression on his face. Chase recognizes him immediately. It's the guy from the truck stop; the one with the crazy eyes. Gabriel chokes and sputters behind him; the sounds sit heavy in his stomach. And for a moment there, Chase sees red. Anger overpowered any other feelings he might have, pumping him full with adrenaline. He charges the man in front of him, slamming the chair down onto his body.

The man's reflexes are fast. He raises his arms to block the strike, but Chase does manage to land in a good shot. The chair crashes into flesh and bones and the man's arm weakens. But before Chase can lift the chair again, the man is on him, his good hand grabbing him by his neck, choking him. He can't breathe, the chair clatters to the floor as he reaches up, fingers clawing at the man's death grip.

With the chokehold, the man advances on him, trying to push him to the ground. The edge of his vision blurs but Chase still has the presence of a mind to swing his leg up, kicking the man in the balls. Howling, the man's grip loosen, and Chase takes the opportunity to shove him away. Gasping for breath, face red and knees weak, Chase stumbles forward. He grabs the man's head and lifts his knees. But before he makes contact, the man lunges at him, the force of it sending Chase sprawling back.

His head hits something hard and a jolt of pain momentarily blinds him. When he can see again, his world is tilting and he can feel bile at the back of his throat. The man is sitting on top of him, straddling his chest. He is panting, grabbing Chase by his hair and yanking it. Chase grunts in pain as his eyes focus.

"I see you found my porn collection," the man says, voice calm but breathless. He is still breathing hard.

Chase glares up at him and spits out. "That's no porn."

"Oh? Is that so? And how would you know that?" he challenges, grinning, showing off his white teeth. His eyes are wild. Just like when Chase saw him at the truck stop.

"Because that's my friend you motherfucking rapist!" Chase yells. He can't help himself; he's so angry. He doesn't care that he's overpowered. His head feels like it's splitting open and it's getting steadily harder to breathe with the weight of the man on his chest. He's fucking pissed. He wants to claw the man's eyes out if his arms aren't pinned to the side of his body by the man's calves. Struggling, unable to do much more, Chase spits in his face.

The man backhands him, causing his head to snap to the side. He tastes blood, knowing that he had bit himself. "Bitch! Do you think you can spit at me and get away with it?!" He bellows, voice loud in his ears. Chase flinches, his heart thumping so loud and fast he's afraid he's going to pass out. "You're going to get it now!"

Strong fingers grab his chin, forcing him to face forward. Chase's preparing to spit again when the man slaps his fat sweaty palm over his mouth and nose and presses down. His airways are immediately cut off. Chase struggles defenseless, unable to use his hands as the man keeps pressing down hard, using both hands now, his fingers digging into his cheeks. He can't breathe. He kicks out, and thrusts his hips, trying to buck the man off him, but he's too heavy and Chase is suffocating. His eyes start to water and his vision darkens. Fuck. This can't be it. This can't be how it ends. It's not fair. His body jerks. Gabe. Sammie.

No...

Everything goes black.

---

The sun is shining as they walk out of the hospital. The air is a little humid for spring, especially since it's only mid morning. Lucas thought about taking off his jacket, but he only had on a pair of threadbare t-shirt underneath. Having almost no sleep the night before, he doesn't want to deal with uncomfortable, stiff clothing. The soft cotton, so well worn, is smooth against his skin. It reminds him of being warm and fuzzy in bed seconds before waking up. It relaxes him. Putting on his sunglasses, he turns around, frowning when he finds Michael with a discernable expression on his face.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Michael's head jerks up. He stares at Lucas for a bit before shrugging. "I'm hungry. Want to grab a bite?"

He raises his eyebrows in surprise. He had assumed that they're going right to Ramsay. Knowing Michael, that'd be the first thing on his mind. The job always comes first. "Don't you want to go to Ramsay? The exchange could be happening any time now that Walker's in town."

"I'm hungry." Michael's reply is short and curt like a petulant child. Furrowing his brows, Lucas stares at the man. "What's going on, Michael?"

"Nothing!" That's certainly not nothing. He has never seen Michael looking as uncomfortable as he is right now. Lucas narrows his eyes and waits. Michael is looking anywhere but at him and he knows he's going to win this chicken contest. And he did a moment later. "I didn't have breakfast, okay?" Michael snaps. "Now, do you want to eat or not?"

Lucas is taken aback by how defensive Michael is responding. His shoulders are tensed around his neck, back stiff. His hands stuffed into the pocket of his leather jacket, jaw set and mouth tight. Lucas tries to read into his expression, but there seems to be a shadow of a mask blanketing his face. It's not exactly blank, but it's an expression he has yet to see. It's baffling. It's going to be a long day.

Deciding to keep the peace, he says. "No need to get snappy. If you want to get a bite first, I won't be the one to say no."

"Okay. Let's go then." Michael's tone is still a little too sharp and as he turns to leave, then hesitates. Lucas smirks. "Do you know a place?" Michael asks, not turning around.

Lucas would laugh if he thinks he could get away with it, but he doesn't want to risk enraging Michael more. Trying to curb the smile from spreading wider, he shakes his head. In a manner much too fond for his liking and says, "Follow me."

Without thinking, he wraps an arm around Michael's shoulder, steering the guy. Immediately he can feel Michael tenses up. When he realizes what he has done, he freezes up too. Old habits die hard. This was how it used to be with them. Easy and comfortable despite their constant bickering. For him at least. For Michael, it's more like quiet acceptance. He wasn't the type to initiate contact.

But that was then. This is now. They're not whatever they were anymore. They can't go back in time. They can't undo the choices Michael made. Michael chose this. And he has to live with it. Debating how best to lift his arms without it being too obvious, he stills when he feels Michael relaxing into his side, the tension rolling out in waves. He glances to his side, heart almost stopping when he spots the smile on Michael's lips. An unidentifiable emotion rushes through him.

Suddenly, it's too much. Everything is too close. There's not enough space. He feels claustrophobic. He needs air. Slipping his arms from around Michael's shoulder, he brushes past him, walking ahead. Already he's mourning the loss of Michael's solid weight pressing against him and gets mad at himself for it. What's happening to him?

"Luke?" The voice stops him in his tracks. Michael sounds small, unsure, hesitant and it's pulling at his heartstrings and he doesn't know anymore. His heart aches. "Don't call me that..." he whispers, voice hoarse. This is so unfair of Michael. He has no right barging into his life again, acting like nothing happened and expects everything to go back to the way it was. It doesn't work that way.

When the silence drags on, Lucas risks a glance back. Michael is standing there, eyes on the ground. He looks dejected. And no matter how much Lucas wants to hate the man, he can't stand to see him sad. Michael was always so proud, unruffled and to see him like this doesn't feel right. Running a hand through his hair, Lucas sighs. "I hope you still like pancakes because that's where we're heading."

Michael looks up at that, and his intense blue gaze is on him, searching and gauging. Then, he gives him a small smile and nods, falling into step with Lucas again. They walk the rest of the way to the diner in silence. It's not exactly uncomfortable, but more like they had reached a common ground. An understanding. Which is stupid because Lucas is still confused as fuck.

But he's tired, though and he doesn't want to think anymore. They need to focus right now. Walker is a dangerous man, and they need to be at their best; 100%. Gabriel is counting on him.

Lucas finds his thoughts drifting to the boy. He still doesn't know what he feels towards him. The sudden attraction, the need coursing through him; not just sexual but the need to be close. Gabriel fills this gaping hole inside him, he realizes. But why? And how? And why does it feel like the answer is staring him right in the face, but he's too blinded to see it? Fuck. He closes his eyes and pushes these confusing thoughts to the back of his mind.

By the time they reach the diner, Lucas is more than ready to quit thinking. And eat. As the smell of sizzling bacon reaches him, his stomach growls loudly. Maybe Michael is right. Who knows when they'll be able to eat next? It's not like they work regular hours.

The bell jingles as they walk into the diner. Lucas heads to the corner booth, where it seems somewhat peaceful and quiet. The majority of the patrons favor the service counter. They both slip into the both sitting at opposite sides of one another. Lucas grabs the menu, dying for some kind of distraction from those intense blue eyes staring a hole into him. If things keep going the way it is, he can already feel the beginning of a migraine forming.

A voluptuous waitress with big boobs, small waist, and bubble butt stops by their table. She looks too cheery for the mood Lucas is in, shooting them both a flashy smile. Notepad and pen in hand, she asks, "What can I get you, gentlemen?" Her eyes land on both of them before straying to Michael, and the watt of her smile increases. Her body language shifts. It's subtle, but it's there. The slight jut of her hips. The straightening of her back. The flirtatious look in her eyes that say they mean business. It grates on Lucas's nerves.

"I'll take a coffee. Black. And some waffles, please," he states, returning the menu to its place. Rubbing his temples, he closes his eyes and waits for the waitress to address Michael. White spots start to appear behind his eyelids, and there is a tension running down the back of his head to his shoulder blades. He hates migraines, especially those that mess with his neck. They're the worst.

It takes him a while to notice the silence. He didn't think he had heard Michael ordered. Blinking his eyes open, he looks across the table at the man who is frowning down at his menu like it's an especially complicated piece of puzzle. "Oh for the love of god..." He turns towards the waitress; voice clipped. "He'll have a black coffee and an apple pancake with lots of maple syrup." The waitress jots that down, tells them it'll be ready in a few minutes, winks and sashays back towards the kitchen.

When he turns back to Michael, he finds the man frowning at him. "If you don't like it, you'll just have to suck it up," he snaps, irritated. Michael just continues to stare at him, and he's getting more self-conscious and annoyed by the minute. He doesn't know why he's in such a foul mood, but Michael always seems to bring out the worst in him. He's about to make a rude comment when Michael breaks the silence.

"So, what do you do now?"

"Oh, are we making small talk now? What's next? Talk about the fucking weather?"

Michael doesn't seem impressed, his mouth thinning. "From what I can gather, you're not exactly on the straight and narrow here. Let me guess. You're a bonafide pimp."

"Fuck you."

"You know, I have to say I've never pictured you as a pimp. Where are your blings?" Michael asks, a teasing smirk flirting at the corner of his lips.

"Seriously, fuck you."

"Nah, you're fucking Gabriel already. He might get jealous."

That came out of fucking nowhere, catching him like a slap to the face. It takes him a while to process it and when he does, he freezes, staring wide-eyed at Michael. The man seems relaxed, at ease. His first instinct is to deny. Abort. He feels exposed all a sudden like Michael knowing this somehow bares him open. He feels vulnerable like his innermost deepest darkest secrets have been revealed. Secrets he hides even from himself. He realizes that he'd hesitated too long when Michael adds, "Do you fucked them all? Or is it just Gabriel?"

Desperately trying to collect himself, he puts on his best calm and indifferent face. "Who says I fuck them at all?" he replies coolly. He ignores his remark about Gabriel. Michael is just making a wild guess, trying to pry information out of him. He's not going to be stupid enough to hand it to him on a silver platter.

"I don't know about the others, but Gabriel? You fucked him," he says it so matter of factly like one plus one equals two. Tilting his head, he continues, "I didn't know you were into men."

Whatever remaining cool he has vanishes. His defense falls apart leaving him open and unguarded. It's a question he's been asking himself many times. He doesn't think he's gay. He even went to a gay bar to test the theory and he was definitely not interested in men. Only Gabriel. Considering his previous relationships were with females, he never questioned his sexuality, naturally assuming he's heterosexual. But now that he thinks about it, he had never felt any sexual attraction to the ladies as well. Not until months into knowing them. It was never the physicality of it that drew him in, he realizes. Doesn't matter their gender, it's who they are or what they meant to him that eventually attracts him. The sudden epiphany stuns him. He feels the sudden itch to Google.

"One black coffee and waffles for you," The waitress is back, setting the coffee and plate of waffles down in front of Lucas. "And one black coffee and pancake for Blue-Eyes." She winks at Michael, smiling seductively. Lucas seethes.

"Thank you," Michael says, polite as always. The waitress smiles wide and saunters back to the kitchen, glancing back at Michael as she goes. Lucas grabs his fork and stabs the waffles, bringing his knife up to cut viciously into it. "Are you ok?" Lucas looks up, coming face to face with Michael's concerned gaze. "If this is about my previous comment, I'm sorry. It's personal, and it's up to you whether you want to tell me or not. It's wrong of me just to assume."

"I'm not gay," he says, shaking his head. "I'm-" he sighs. "I don't know what I am. But I do know that gender doesn't play a determining factor in my having a relationship." He stares down at his plate and pretends to be focused on cutting his waffles. It's not something to be ashamed of but for some reason, he doesn't think he could look Michael in the eyes. It feels too much like baring his soul. That nagging feeling at the back of his mind prickles at his peripherals again, demanding his attention. He ignores it. "Why do you care so much if I fuck Gabriel or not?" he asks instead, turning the tables around.

"Did you?" Lucas stares at Michael and they are silent for a few moments, eyes locked. Neither one is confirming nor denying the statement. Then, Michael shrugs. "I can't help but notice that Gabriel looks..." Michael seems to search around for the right word, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally settles on, "Familiar."

Lucas frowns, his heart thumping wildly against his chest. That thing he's been ignoring scratches the surface, extending its claws. He knows that once he opens that floodgate, there's no turning back. It's so close now. And so dangerous. "What are you getting at?" he snaps, tone harsh. Why is he being so defensive? You know why. No, he doesn't.

"Nothing," Michael replies, too fast not to be suspicious. But Lucas lets it go. Dragging it all out in the open would not bode well for him. He just knows it. Keep it buried. Stay on neutral ground. "Let's finish this and go and meet Ramsay," Michael sighs.

Lucas doesn't know if his mind is playing tricks on him or what, but Michael looks resigned as he cuts into his pancake, his eyes downcast. Digging into his waffles, he thinks. Yeah, it's better to keep things as they are. They have better things to worry about like Walker. At least with him, Lucas is clear on what he needs to do. Everything else can go and fuck themselves. They eat the rest of their meal in silence.

[PREVIEW] MWR backstory up!

With Ash's backstory, we also cover his earlier life in uni with Punk and the gang! So be ready for some familiar scene but from Ash's POV!

[TIER 5] MWR: Unrequited Love

With Ash, his backstory will also go a little into his college life at the start of the comic! Hehe so you'll see familiar scene but on Ash's POV! ^^

[TIER 10] MWR: Conservative

When college students are more mature than grown ass adults. Just goes to show how important education is >.<

[TIER 10] IATL: Chapter 15

Holy shit, he's tired. Chase rubs his eyes trying to get them to focus on the words in front of him. They blur for a while before coming into focus. He squints and tries to stifle a yawn. Ms. Gagner, his English teacher, has them all reading this super boring book about a who-the-fuck-care Dystopian world. The voice of the girl reading the paragraphs drones on like Sandman himself is whispering in his ears. At that moment, he really hates Lois Lowry and his inaptly named book called "The Giver."

Chase's on the verge of nodding off when someone knocks at the door, jerking him awake. The speaker halts midway through her sentences. He looks up in time to see another student he had seen around school pokes his head in. Disinterested, he's halfway back to Wonderland again when Ms. Gagner's shrill voice rings out in the classroom.

"Chase Reed?" Ms. Gagner calls. Wide awake now, an icy dread creeping into his skin, he answers. "Yeah?"

"The principal wants to see you," she says, nodding towards the boy. Stomach sinking, Chase pushes his chair back and stands on unstable feet. He doesn't want to go. What the hell does Ramsay want? It's the middle of school. Okay, fine he's the principal, but still. Feeling like metal bars had been attached to his ankles, he drags his feet to the front of the classroom.

"Please gather your things with you, Chase. I'm told it would take the rest of the period." Jaw clenched, he turns back and grabs his books and stuffs them into his bag. Well, that just seals it, doesn't it? He's going to have to put out. At a fucking school. Isn't anything sacred anymore? This is where he's supposed to be educated goddammit!

Shouldering his bag, he can feel the curious stare from his classmates. From the corner of his eyes, he catches sight of Anna. Her huge green eyes feel like spotlights beaming in on him. She knows. Their eyes connect for a moment before she shifts it, staring down at the book on her desk, biting her lips. Chase wonders how many times she'd been summoned to the principal office.

With that somber thought, he follows the boy out the classroom and down the hallways. Chase's been here for almost three months, but he still has yet to familiarize himself with the school. Or made any friends for that matter. His current situation notwithstanding, he thinks it's out of habit. With his dad always on the move, he'd been to more schools than he can count on one hand. He was always the new kid. And when he finally gets settled, they're off again. In the end, why bother?

"Chase, huh?" the boy comments. He has a loud booming voice, almost like a bark that contrasts with his person. For a voice like that, he's expecting someone with more build and muscles but the boy beside him is long and lanky. He has dark brown skin with perfectly styled spiky hair. His eyes are brown, friendly and yet not. Chase doesn't know how to describe it, just that this dude makes him wary.

"Yeah. And you?"

"Russell. Like the dog you know?"

Chase frowns. He could just have made a Russell Crowe reference. Seems more fitting than a dog. Weird, but okay. "Do you know what this is about?" he asks, making a vague gesture with his hand.

"Oh yeah," Russell says, a curl twitching at the corner of his lips. When he didn't continue, Chase cocks an eyebrow and prods. "Care to elaborate?"

"Not really, no. I'm disapproving of it but what can I say? He wants Chase." The way he says Chase's name makes it sounds like it's an offensive slur. Sensing some form of hostility, Chase frowns harder, his body tensing. "What's your problem?"

"You're my problem," he says, stopping and turns around to face Chase.

"I don't even know you," Chase snaps, stopping as well. He's confused, and a bit pissed off at the moment, fists clenching ready for a fight.

"Seems like you made a fucking impression on Ramsay," he sneers. "Guess you're damn good on your hands and knees, whore."

The air seems to rush out of him all at once. He freezes. This kid knows. How does he know? Before he knows it, he shoves at the boy's chest, slamming him into the lockers. He grabs the front of his t-shirt and hisses in his face. "The fuck are you talking about?"

The boy had the audacity to sneer. "You think you’re so tough, huh? You're nothing but a whore, Chase. And Ramsay will see that sooner or later. Then, he'll dump you like the sack of shit you are," he spits. The way the boy is speaking, it's like Chase stole his boyfriend or girlfriend or some shit. Possessive, jealous talk. Ah, crap.

"Now, now, now. You see, now I'm thinking you're fucking the man. Is that what this is about? You're jealous?" Chase taunts. Like he wanted Ramsay's filthy hands on him in the first place. But because this boy is such a pain in the ass, he can't help but jerk him a little.

The boy's eyes widened. "What the fuck are you talking about? That's disgusting. I'm not a whore, bitch!" he spits out, struggling now against Chase's grip. Russell got his hands underneath Chase's and shoves at his shoulder. Chase would have held on, but he doesn't want to cause a scene, so he steps back, glaring. "I fucked up, and now he wants you. Well, you're going to fuck this up too. Then, it's bye-bye Chase." He gives him a little wave, the kind with only the top of his fingers moving. Chase wants to break them.

Completely confused now and getting angrier by the minute, he exclaims. "Fuck what up? What the hell are you talking about?"

The boy just brushes off the front of his shirt and smirks. "You'll see." Then he turns and strides away, smug and sure. Chase narrows his eyes at his retreating back and begrudgingly follows. What else can he do?

Once they arrive at the principal's office, the boy knocks once and enters. "Sir, Chase's here." He has to do a double take because now the boy is polite as fuck. His eyes widen as he notices that Russell even had his head bowed a little. What the actual fuck?

"Good boy," Ramsay praises and waves his hand in a sign of dismissal. Russell bows again and closes the door after him. Now that he's alone with Ramsay, Chase kind of hopes that the boy is here with them, pain in the ass or not. There's a clearing of the throat and Chase slowly turns to face the stocky man sitting behind his pompous desk.

"Chase," Ramsay greets "How wonderful of you to stop by."

"Like I got a choice," he mutters.

"What did you say, Chase? It's rude to mumble."

"Cut the crap, Ramsay. What do you want?"

"Tsk tsk tsk, so rude. Didn't your mother teach you better than that?" Ramsay says, frowning in displeasure. Then he brightens up, "Maybe your principle could teach you a thing or two about manners."

"Just tell me what you want and we can get this over with. No need to play games, Ramsay." At Ramsay's thinned lips, he feels a cold sweat coming. But he stands his ground, jutting his chin out. He's not afraid.

"So impolite," Ramsay snarls. "I thought Alastair taught you well. I must be mistaken. Maybe you need a trip down back to the basement to jock some senses back into that PIGHEAD OF YOURS," Ramsay yells the last words out, startling Chase and making his heart jump. He swallows, the scars littering his back tickles with phantom pain. He stays quiet, looking at the ground. "That's better," Ramsay says, voice calm like he hadn't just screamed.

"Now, Chase. I've a job for you." At this, he snaps his head up. A job? Is Ramsay going to whore him out? He thought only Lucas gets to do that. Still, he remains silent. Ramsay slides a piece of paper across the table. "Be there on time. And take this with you." He indicates the briefcase sitting on the table next to the piece of paper. "Do not in any case open the briefcase. Is that clear?"

Chase squints. "Why? What's in it?"

"That is the point, Chase." Ramsay rolls his eyes like it's obvious. "Now, when you're there, you're going to receive a briefcase in return. Do not open that either. Return that briefcase to me. I'll pay you for your efforts. How does a thousand sound?" he asks nonchalantly like he hadn't just offered Chase $1000.

Eyes bulging, he eyes the briefcase. This has got to be some kind of trap. But $1000. That's a lot of money. He might be able to leave this place. Either way, it will be an option. Just in case things get bad enough at the house. "I'm not doing anything illegal," he ends up saying.

"I don't recall giving you a choice, Chase."

Chase stares at the briefcase and the paper. This is all kind of fucked up. First, they got him to whore himself. And now, they want him to bring who knows what to who knows who and return with a more than dubious briefcase. It doesn't sound good. He feels like a mule. Maybe he is a mule. "Is this drugs?" he asks, his voice raising an octave higher.

Ramsay sighs like he is disappointed. "Let me make this simple for you. You do this; little Sammie stays safe. You don't do this, we will hurt Sam." His tone bears no doubt, his eyes lasered in on him.

"Are you threatening my brother?" he asks in a low growl. Ramsay gives him a winning smile. "Bingo!"

Chase glares at Ramsay. He knows he's screwed. There's nothing he wouldn't do to protect Sam and Ramsay knows it. He also knows that if he agrees to this, the next time they need him to do something, they would use Sam to force his hands again. But even then, he couldn't not do this. He owes Sam too much. Knowing when he's defeated, Chase closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "I'll do it. But if something were to happen to Sam, if he's missing one hair from his head, Lucas is going to hear about this. And you know you don't want to mess with Lucas," he tries.

"I'm not afraid of Lucas. But then again I don't want to get on his wrong side either. There's no fun in that. Besides, I always meet my end of the deal. So, Chase. Do we have a deal or not?" Ramsay leans back into his armchair staring up at Chase with a smug look on his face. Glaring at Ramsay, Chase snatches up the piece of paper, stuffs it in his back pocket and grabs the briefcase. Ramsay smiles a villainous smile. "Be a dear and don't be late."

Chase wants to punch that fucking accent right out of him.

---

The hospital was bustling with activity when they got there. It seems to be one of those places that never sleep. Perhaps there's something to be said about that, but right now, Lucas is too conscious of the body next to him. They're here to meet Zael, whom they were informed was here to take an official statement from Gabriel. As far as Lucas knows, the only person who has intimate knowledge of the gangs in Lawrence like the back of his hand is Zael, and who better to ask than him.

Michael wanted to tag along stating that it was his case after all. Lucas had disagreed. It'll be more efficient if they were to split up. One of them should try to sniff out Hellhound while the other digs up info on the Crossroad Demons. But Michael had been adamant, and Lucas had given in. It's no use fighting with Michael. He can be extremely stubborn when he wants to.

Right now, said man is brushed up tight against his side. The elevator feels small and suffocating. It's not like there's many people inside. Besides them, there are only two other nurses- who are standing in front of them, might he add. So it really doesn't justify the amount of touching currently happening at the back. Not that he's paying attention to it. But he is. Very much so. It seems like his entire being is on high alert on what Michael is doing. Whether he is to breathe or move or even shift, Lucas notices it. The rustle of his clothes sounds loud in his ears. The warmth of his arm where they're touching. His smell. God, this is getting out of control.

The elevator dings and Lucas is quick to maneuver his way outside. He lets out the breath he'd been holding, and closes his eyes. Focus. The door slides close with another ding and then it's just the two of them. Ignoring Michael, he strides down the hallway towards Gabriel's room. He can hear the man's footsteps quicken behind him and seconds later, Michael is falling into step beside him.

They walk in painful silence. Then, "Gabriel. That's a biblical name," Michael comments out of the blue.

"So?"

"Nothing." The tone of Michael's voice is suspicious and Lucas glances over, only to be ambushed by smug blue eyes. "It just seems like you like surrounding yourself with angels." There's a twitch at the corner of Michael's mouth. Lucas stares at him, unamused. "Cmon, that was good," Michael protests. Exasperated, Lucas rolls his eyes but is unable to stop the small upward tilt of his mouth. Michael's eyes brighten at the sight of it while Lucas tries hard not to read too much into it.

Gabriel looks up when they enter the room. He seems somewhat calmer than he was last night, blue eyes clear although it's quite obvious he is still in pain. Bruises littered his face and arms where they were exposed. He's sitting up in bed, the sheet covering up to his waist. Zael is already there, standing at the foot of the bed with a notepad in his hands. They nod at each other in acknowledgment as Lucas resumes his seat from the previous night. He notices Zael eying Michael, who's oddly enough standing back this time, his blue eyes observant and alert.

"How are you feeling, Gabriel?" Lucas asks, voice soft. Gabriel's eyes have never left him since he entered and are now staring at him, unblinking. At his question, his gaze wavers and he drops his eyes to his lap.

"Better," he mumbles.

"Good." Lucas wants to hold Gabriel's hand but he is also very aware of Michael's presence in the room; can feel his heavy gaze on the boy in front of him. He doesn't know why, but he withholds any physical display of affection. Fixing a pointed look at Zael, he asks. "Are you done?"

"No. We're just about to get started." Directing his gaze at Michael, he asks. "And you are?" Lucas notices Gabriel's eyes dart up and settle on Michael. He feels uncomfortable at the amount of intensity in Gabriel's eye as he stares. And stares.

"Michael Angelo," Michael answers, holding out his hand for Zael to shake. "And yes, I realized I have the same name as one of the Ninja Turtles. It appears my parents have a sense of humor," he jokes. Giving Zael a firm handshake, he then directs his attention to Gabriel. "And you must be Gabriel. It's nice to meet you." He holds out his hand but Gabriel just stares at them like they're poisonous snakes ready to strike.

"Doctors said he might be suffering from PTSD," Zael explains.

Michael withdraws his hand, asking, "What happened?"

"That's what we're looking to find out." Turning his attention back to Gabriel, Zael asks. "Can you tell me what happened yesterday? If you can, please give as many details as possible. It will help us find the person who did this to you."

Gabriel's eyes start to water as he swallows compulsively, avoiding all eye contacts. He looks so scared and frightened. Lucas has to keep breathing to control the anger he feels coursing through his veins. They all wait in silence until finally, Gabriel starts talking.

He was shaking as he recalled the assault. His voice failed him when he recounted the rape, the beatings, the humiliation he suffered at the hands of those men. Tears started pouring down his face halfway through the story, but he kept plowing on, unable to stop now that he had started talking. Gabriel described each man as best as he could, but he was half out of his mind with pain, the faces blurred together. And most of the time, he was on his stomach.

"And then they left..." Gabriel finishes, his voice barely audible, a whisper.

"We suspect they're not from around here. Did they mention anything? Like what they're doing here or where they're heading?" Zael asks. Gabriel shakes his head. "Okay, what about accents? Did any of them have a particular accent, slang or term they used?" Another shake of the head. "Apart from Gordon, there were four other men. Did you manage to hear their names?" Gabriel was silent for a while, brows furrowed into a frown. Then, he shakes his head again.

"No, I'm sorry..." Gabriel looks up with tearful eyes. "It's all starting to blur together." He shakes his head. "I can't be sure. I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Gabriel. We have more than enough. You did well," Lucas says encouragingly and watches as Gabriel relaxes into his pillow. He looks pretty shaken up. "Zael, can I have a moment with you? Outside?" Lucas nods towards the door and stands, almost bumping into Michael. He's standing so close. Again. Right as he's about to snap at him, he notices the intensity of Michael's gaze, sharp and accessing. They aren't directed at him, but behind him. Gabriel. That uncomfortable feeling is back again. He can almost hear Michael's brain whirring. Ignoring it, Lucas sidesteps him and moves to the door.

Once in the hallway, he turns around and both Zael and Michael are standing there, looking expectant so he begins. "We've figured out who the black man is. His name is Gordon Walker. He came from Sioux Falls, South Dakota. He's the second in command of a drug dealing gang called Bleeding Vamps. They might be manufacturing too, but we aren't sure of that. All we know is that Walker is here on business with a gang called Crossroad Demons. Know anything about them?"

Frowning, Zael glances over at Michael before speaking. "And you know all this, how?" Zael asks, narrowing his eyes.

"Michael is my informant," he lies.

"I didn't know you have informants, Lucas."

"There's a lot about me that you don't know, Zael," he counters, but his tone is light. "Now, what do you know about Crossroad Demons?"

Zael sucks at the inside of his cheeks, making his face look more sunken than they already are. "They're one of the gangs here. If you want to buy drugs; meth, cocaine, ecstasy, GHB, heroin, speed, ketamine, whatever. You go to them. They don't manufacture these stuff themselves. They're more like dealers," Zael explains. Lucas nods, waiting for him to continue. When he doesn't, he prods, "Who's the leader?"

Zael looks uncomfortable. "I'm not at liberty to tell. It's a matter of trust."

"A matter of trust? We're on the same side here. And someone attacked one of our people. We can't just let this go. What would people think then? That we're all bark and no bite. Words of that get down the streets, that we can't protect our own people- Poof! Whatever respect and credibility we've gained over the past months. Gone. Is that what you want?"

He knows he's gotten through to Zael when the muscles in his jaw twitches. For a control freak, that's his worst nightmare. Lucas waits him out while he stews in his thoughts. Then, "Fine," Zael bites out. "But you deal with him. I want nothing to do with this. I'll help you with Walker. But I'm not getting involved with Ramsay."

"Ramsay?"

Zael sneers. "Yes, Ramsay. He's the man behind Crossroad Demons. The perfect position too. All that access to these young, impressionable minds. Do you know how often I've come across dealers who are still underage? It's the perfect setup. These kids, if they're arrested, they'll only served time in juvie. A few months, and they're out with 'street cred' to boast about. Ramsay has got his claws in them deep. Make them believe in all sort of things. Control them with the promises of money, power, and sex. About 90% of Crossroad Demons are made up of teenagers."

"Ah, I see. The rowdy teenagers from Saturday night? That was his 'gang'?"

Zael nods. "He told them it was a welcoming party. A hint at what they'll get if they follow him."

"Using my people? Without telling me?"

"Like I said, you deal with him yourself." Zael turns his head back in the direction of Gabriel's room. "I want Walker's head on a platter too. But I'm not going to mess with Ramsay's business."

"Not a problem. I understand your situation. Thank you for the info. We'll take it up from here."

"I'll keep you updated on the progress at our end. Our tech had cleared the scene sometime this morning and are running the evidence as we speak. When we identify the rest of the men, you'll know."

Lucas holds out his hand. "We'll speak later." Zael nods and gives him a firm shake before striding down the hallway to the elevator. When he's gone, Lucas turns to face Michael. He had been exceptionally quiet during the whole exchange.

"What's our next move?" Lucas asks, knowing the answer.

"Ramsay. Guess we're going to Lawrence High after all."

[PREVIEW] MWR nsfw illustration up!

This time we feature Bane and Ash getting kinky in the office XD

[TIER 7] MWR: Office NSFW

When Ash comes and visit Bane at the office XD

[TIER 2] MWR: Walk the Beat

Life as a beat cop O///O also, new side character! Hope you'll like Shane! ^^ he won't be like part of the main cast though >.<

[TIER 10] IATL: Chapter 14

Chase wakes up to a gentle shake on his shoulder. He blinks. It's still dark, the only thing lighting up the room is the soft glow from the beeping machine. He groans, back stiff from the awkward position he fell asleep in. Straightening up from the chair, he rubs his eyes, dimly aware of his hand still clasped in Gabriel's relaxed fist. The guy is still fast asleep and Chase smiles as he watches him drool onto his pillow. Looking around, he wonders what had woken him up when his eyes fell upon two slender arms crossed at the chest. Chase trails his eyes upwards and is met by a disapproving look directed his way. Lisa.

"Were you here all night, Chase?" she hisses, moving her hands to her hips now. Chase gulps, suddenly feeling very small. Like a child who's been caught stealing candy. He hangs his head, ashamed. "God, Chase. I shouldn't have told you where Gabriel is in the first place," Lisa berates herself.

Chase looks up guiltily. He doesn't want Lisa to blame herself. He was the one who had conned and sneaked his way to Gabriel. Lisa's eyes flick over to their clasped hands and lingers there for a minute. Her eyes soften with a knowing look, and she flicks her doe-eyed gaze back at Chase. "He's more than just a friend, isn't he?"

Feeling like a deer caught in the headlights, he averts his eyes, landing on Gabriel. He takes in his bruised but relaxed face halfway burrowed in the pillow, his messy hair sticking up everywhere on his head. The little snores that whistles out his bandaged nose, the half open mouth. And he doesn't have it in him to feel apologetic or embarrassed about their relationship. He smiles at how dorky Gabriel looks while he sleeps, thumb rubbing circles onto his skin.

"Yeah. He is." It sounds like a confession, a secret as the words escape his lips. A whisper. A wisp. But a promise nonetheless. When he turns back to Lisa, there's a look of understanding on her features. She lost some of the tension in her shoulders and then she laughed, a soft sound, shaking her head. Without saying a word, she picks up the clipboard hanging at the foot of Gabriel's bed and flips through it. Chase watches as she unhooks the IV drip, replacing it with a new bag.

Lisa leans over the side of the bed and gently nudges Gabriel awake. It's like watching a cat stretch. Unhurried and deliberate. First, Gabriel snuffles a little, nose twitching. Then he digs his head further into the pillow, letting out a soft sigh, a small smile on his lips. When Lisa continues to nudge him, his face scrunches up and he groans grumpily, his arms and legs shifting and moving underneath the cover. It's a slow process, but one that Chase doesn't mind watching every morning with a smirk on his face and mirth in his eyes.

Gabriel's sleepy eyes land on Chase first. He blinks, his face brightening as he registers Chase's presence and smiles, his grip tightening on Chase's hand. As much as he wants to kiss Gabriel right now, there's someone else in the room with them. Someone who's currently narrowing her eyes, arms crossed. Chase tries to subtly signal Lisa's presence with his eyes, but it's a lost cause. Gabriel's brow furrows and he tilts his head, reminding Chase of a bird.

"How are you feeling, Gabriel?" Lisa asks startling Gabriel who snaps his head to the other side in a motion that looks like it hurts. It does if Gabriel's grimace is anything to go by. He closes his eyes and after a moment, clears his throat before speaking. "I feel drowsy." His voice still sounds like he swallowed gravel for breakfast, coarse and rough.

Lisa nods. "Any pain?"

Gabriel seems to consider this then shakes his head. Lisa puts the back of her hand on his forehead, feeling his temperature. She hums. "We gave you some pain meds yesterday so that's no surprise, but it's going to wear off soon. You might feel a bit sore. But don't worry, it's normal. If it gets too bad, press this buzzer and a nurse will stop by." She shows Gabriel a tiny button beside his bed before continuing, her voice taking on a stern tone. "Chase is not allowed to be in here." She glares at him. "I have to insist that he go back to his own bed."

"But-" Gabriel protests.

"Erm-" Chase starts. They both look at each other for a moment before Chase plows on. "I have a confession to make." Two pairs of eyes lock onto him and he feels the tips of his ears burning. "I'm not a patient here," he mumbles to the ground, shuffling his feet.

"I'm sorry, what?" Lisa's voice has taken on a higher note.

"I'm not a patient here," he repeats, louder. "I'm sorry." He chances a look up. When he sees the confusion on Lisa's face, he hurries to explain. "I needed to know if Gabe is alright, okay? No one is telling me anything and I was worried. I didn't know if he's alive or dead! So I sneaked in," he blurts, speaking a mile a minute. "You didn't see how he was when he was brought in. He was barely breathing and I was scared. And Lucas, he-" Gabriel gives his hand a reassuring squeeze. Chase chokes back the words, only then realizing that he had been shaking.

"Whoa, Chase." Lisa raises her hands as if trying to ward off Chase's verbal vomit. "Are you telling me you sneaked into the hospital, stole some sick person's hospital gown and pretended to be a patient so that you can find Gabriel?" Lisa says slowly, brows furrowing.

Chase can't look Lisa in the eyes as he admits, "I stole it from the supply closet." There is a muffled sound from the bed and Chase's eyes snap towards it. Gabriel's mouth is twisting and turning like he's trying to hold in his laughter, his eyes carefully avoiding Chase's. "It's not funny!" He nudges at Gabriel when he begins to shake, his shoulder trembling with the effort to stop the guffaws from spilling out. "You jerk!"

Gabriel breaks and he fucking giggle. Giggle! Like a child. With his eyes all crinkly, lips spread so wide it covers half his face and he's wiping his eyes like there are tears streaming down his face. That bastard! For some reason, Chase ends up grinning too, a soft snort of laughter bubbling out from him. At least he was until he looked up and spotted Lisa.

Lisa has both eyebrows raised and her mouth half open, dumbfounded. Then, she huffs out a laugh. "I don't know if that's the most stupid or the most romantic thing I've seen someone done," she mutters, shaking her head. Their quiet laughter dies down and there's a moment of silence before she adds, "Do you need a ride home?" Chase gapes up at her in surprise. "My shift ends at five, which is in about..." She glances at her watch. "Ten minutes. I would hurry if I were you."

Chase closes his mouth abruptly and turns to look at Gabriel. Bright blue eyes stare back at him. "Chase can come and visit during visiting hours. Like a normal person," Lisa says, rolling her eyes. Gabriel squeezes his hand, smiling a little as he says, "Thank you for the thieving and the ninjaing, Chase." There's glee dancing behind those innocent blue eyes, but Chase can see the gratitude and sincerity there too.

"Anytime, Gabe," he replies, heart warmed. He sneaks a glance at Lisa who is quick to avert her gaze, picking up the clipboard and half-heartedly flipping through it. Leaning over the bed, he presses a quick chaste kiss on Gabriel's lip and mutters, "I'll see you soon." When he straightens up, Lisa is trying hard to hide the big smile encroaching her face. Gabriel, on the other hand, has no qualms whatsoever and is grinning wide, gums and all.

"Goodbye, Chase," he says as Lisa leads him out. Chase gives Gabriel a small wave before he is hidden from view by the curtain Lisa is pulling back into place. There's an awkward silence, Chase is unsure on what to do next. Lisa places a hand at the small of his back and nudges him out the door, following soon after him.

'I'm guessing you didn't come here buck naked. So go put your clothes back on and I'll see you at the entrance in 5 minutes. Is that okay? I want to be home before Ben wakes up."

Chase nods. "Yeah, sure." He turns to go in the direction of the elevator and stops. Looking over his shoulder, he says, "Thank you, Lisa. For everything." She gives him a sweet smile and makes a shooing motion.

Chase grins as he enters the elevator, heart feeling much lighter than it had been in a while. Gabriel is recovering fine and they're- What are they? Are they boyfriends now? The term sounds so weird in his head. Boyfriends. He smiles. He thinks he can get used to that. His heart flutters as he thinks back to their kiss. The way Gabriel's lips fit against his like they belong there. It feels like coming home.

And then there's Lisa. Her simple kindness is like a beacon in the constant darkness that shrouds his life. Too many had taken advantage and too little had cared. Instead of being mad at him, Lisa had handled his dishonesty with an understanding and compassion that leaves him speechless. Her easy going attitude makes it all the easier to accept her generosity. Things aren't rainbow and sunshine, but he's feeling hopeful. For the first time in a long while.

The drive back passes in a blur of jokes and pleasantries. Lisa is a happy-go-lucky kind of woman even if life hasn't been easy for her. He learned that Lisa was knocked up in her early twenties and Ben's father is no longer in the picture. She had to quit medical school to take care of Ben. But far from giving up, she took her GED and became a nurse. It's tough sometimes as a working single mom, but she had no regrets. Ben's the best thing that had ever happened to her. Chase can relate.

"I have that with my little brother, Sam. I uh-" He rubs the back of his neck, feeling self-conscious. "I kind of raised him. We lost our mom when Sam was six months old." The old guilt threatens to overwhelm him again, but he pushes it to the back of his mind. "Our dad, he uh- He never quite recovered."

Lisa takes her hand off the wheels and pats his thigh. She doesn't say anything and he appreciates it. He's tired of hearing people say they're sorry. It's no one's fault but his. "She died in a car crash," he blurts. "We think that she might have been on her way to see me. I was having a sleepover at a friend's. We never did figure out why. Why she get out of bed and drive to see me three blocks down the road at 3 at night." He stares right ahead, chewing the inside of his cheek.

"She left Sam alone at home." After all this time, he still couldn't make sense of that. "It's not like her. At all. It's like she dropped everything and rushed out the house. She was still in her sleeping robe." Lisa gives him a small squeeze, her eyes on the road. "She crashed into a lamppost just outside my friend's house. The crash woke me up. I didn't even realize what happened and who it was until Dad came and picked me up. The look on his face..." He swallows.

"Her brakes weren't working. It was declared an accident. But Dad he- He was convinced it was a homicide. Maybe it's because he's a cop himself. People said he was seeing things he wanted to see. Seeing ghosts where there isn't one. He spent all his waking moment going over mom's case, he was obsessed. After a while, he was forced to retire. Sam, he never got to have a normal childhood. We moved a lot. Dad goes wherever he thinks the leads take him and sometimes he disappears weeks at a time. And every time before he left, he would tell me, 'Take care of Sam, Chase.' Taking care of Sam, that's my job."

He smiles then. "I love my brother. And I know he loves me too. Did you know what his first word was?" Grinning wide, he says, "Chase." His chest feels like it's about to explode with pride. "He said Chase."

Lisa nods, smiling as she recalls her own memories. "Ah yeah. The first word. I remembered what it was like. When Ben first called me Mom... It kind of makes everything worth it, right?" She flashes him a warm smile before returning her eyes on the road. He nods, can't help but agree. "Yeah."

They're silent for a while, each deep in their own thoughts. Then, feeling silly, he lets out an enormous exhale. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm telling you all this. I'm not normally this chatty, I swear. You must have Jedi-mind tricked me somehow."

Lisa laughs, a lovely sound. "It's called reciprocation, Chase. I shared something about myself, you shared something in return." She winks at him. "No Jedi-ing involved. And talking about tricks, I can't believe you tricked me into revealing Gabriel's info! Stealing a hospital gown? That's like, the most unbadassed subterfuge ever."

"Hey! It was awesome and you know it. I was like- Batman," he proclaims, dipping his voice low into a growl-like quality. When Lisa turns a skeptical face towards him, he gives her his best imitation of blue steel. Eyes narrowing, cheeks hallowed and lips pursed into a pout. Lisa snorts and he grins, laughing along as he sighs back into his seat. It's been awhile since he felt this free and had so much fun.

When Lisa stops outside the home, she tells him to wait as she fumbles around the glove compartment. She pulls out a card, scrambles for a pen and writes something on the back of it. Then, she hands it to Chase. Confused, he takes it. It's a name card with Lisa's office number and at the back her home address and her personal number. He cocks an eyebrow in a silent question.

"In case you need anything, feel free to call. And the address is for Ben's birthday party. He's turning six this Saturday. And I'm inviting you. You could bring Sam along as well. And Gabriel. There's enough food to go around, I promise. I did my homework." Her eyes widen conspiratorially as she continues. "Kids and their appetites."

Chase is momentarily stunned silent. He looks at the card then backs up at Lisa again. Her face falls as she shifts in her seat. "If you want to. I didn't mean to sound presumptuous. I mean, I would love it if you could come by. But of course, it's up to-"

"I'll come," he blurts. He clears his throat and repeats, in a more polite manner. "Yes, of course. We'll come. Definitely. Thank you for inviting us." Lisa beams, her kind eyes twinkling. "Sam is six too, so..." he trails off.

"Perfect!" Lisa says, beaming wider. Chase returns her smiles, slips the card into his jeans pocket and opens the passenger door. Before he steps out though he gives Lisa one quick hug, grateful to have known her company.

The rain had stopped sometime during the night. The air is crisp and a little chilly but smells fresh and clean. Chase closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, loving the smell of dew and leaves. He waves Lisa goodbye as she drives off, watching her tail lights round the corner and out of sight.

Chase is feeling a little out of sorts as he lets himself into the house, tiptoeing to his room so he wouldn't wake the others up. It's been a long day and he'd experienced a 360 degrees turn of emotions. He's exhausted. Slipping into his room and seeing Sam all curled up in his bed, cover tangled around his tiny legs, he smiles. He places Lisa's card on the bedside table and undresses. Stepping into a clean pair of boxers, he then slips into bed with Sam, ignoring his own filth for the moment. Right now, he is content to just let himself fall asleep with his little brother safely tucked in his arms. Before he knows it, he falls into a deep sleep, loose-limbed with a hint of a smile on his face.

---

The sound of the coffee machine whirring soothes his jangled nerves. Lucas hadn't slept at all last night, tossing and turning in his bed. He finally gave up after hours with no success and decided to take a cold shower, hoping that it would help clear the cobwebs in his head. But damn, was he wrong about that.

Standing under the spray of icy cold water, all that came back to him was the memory of drowning. Death's icy grip pulling him down and under, into the depth of darkness. His lungs screamed in agony as they fought for air but instead filled with salty cold water. The pain in his chest dulled as hundred of thousand needles pricked into every fiber of his being. The pain was excruciating, his muscles cramping in protest. It was a miracle he hadn't died.

And the reason for it all was Michael. So why in God's name did he feel a tinge of happiness at seeing the man again? He should hate him. Kicked him out of the house on sight. Not agreeing to work together again. Not when just seeing the man is setting him on edge like this. Feeling like his skin is too tight around his body, pulling taut and uncomfortable. He doesn't even feel like himself anymore.

Sighing, he sips his coffee. He hums contently at the bitter taste of roasted black coffee. Nothing like some caffeine to start the day. Staring at his half full cup, his mind wanders. It's weird how it seems like just yesterday that he was bickering with Michael over coffee mugs. He was in the middle of their kitchen, searching for his mug only to turn around and see them in Michael's hand. Of course then they had descended into a heated argument on whose mug it was, both of them getting hot headed. Sassy remarks and disguised insults flying across the room.

Come to think of it, they had never got along well. They argued at the smallest thing, butting heads more often than not. It's a wonder why he kept staying with Michael or why Michael let him. They stepped on each other's toes all the time. Perhaps it's because of the close quarters, being constantly in each other's space that caused them to be so hostile. Human beings are not meant to coexist for a long period of time within a certain amount of radius. The fact that he never encountered this problem when he shared a barrack with more than ten men taunts him. He ignores it.

Maybe it's a sign. They're just not meant to be. Like oil on water. They should never have partnered up in the first place. He should have heed the warnings. Stepped away while he still can. Then, maybe he wouldn't have ended up in this mess. A bullet wound in his chest and this ache inside him that has no purpose being there.

He glances at the clock hanging above the kitchen counter. 7 am. Two hours before he has to meet Michael. His gut clenches at the thought. Fuck. Why had he agreed to do this? It's too late to back out now. It's like a game of chicken. First one out is the loser. And Lucas is not a coward. Why should he be the one who's nervous anyway? Michael shot him! If there's anyone who should be feeling like he's about to puke his guts out, it should be Michael. Nonetheless, he still feels green around the edges.

Lucas downs his coffee, stands and stretches. The children will be up soon. It's time to retreat if he wants to avoid the stampede and chaos in the kitchen. He makes some toasts and hurries back to his office. He needs to do some research anyway. Settling behind his desk, he starts up his computer.

Michael had left with the file but he had glimpsed enough to do a bit of digging himself. He spent the next hours reading up on Bleeding Vamps and their activities. It's a relatively new gang, news about it only started a year back. Most of which are about drug trafficking and on one account, a meth lab explosion. Kubrick and Walker's name pop up time and again in related news articles but nothing concrete. He wonders why someone would pay to kill Walker. If it's a territorial war, why not Kubrick? Unless, it's personal. Or perhaps it's an internal thing.

Who hired the kill doesn't matter, though. What matters is that Walker ends up dead. And Lucas doesn't intend for it to be quick and painless. In order to do that, he needs Michael. Hardening his resolve, he pushes his chair back and stands. He's supposed to meet Michael at the motel he's staying at. Some places called Lullaby Blues.

At first Michael had just wanted to stay at the home. Lucas had objected to the idea. Thinking it had something to do with the availability of beds, Michael proposed to take the couch, like he did a hundred times before. The easy familiarity of everything was what sent Lucas over the edge. It's not one of his finest moments. He had flipped and basically chased Michael out the front door, hissing something or other about betrayal and space.

It took him a while before he realized they hadn't agreed on a place to meet when a piece of paper was shoved under the door. For some reason, that made him angrier and he snatched it up, read it and crushed it in his fist, storming back to his room. It might have seemed childish and petty, but it made him feel better so everyone can go and screw themselves.

Everything sucks and he is still in a foul mood when he steps into the motel's reception area. It's a rent-by-the-hour type of motel which is not unusual during a job. On the piece of paper, in Michael's neat handwriting was the name of the motel and the room number. Perhaps because of that, he can't help but feels like a prostitute as he takes the elevator up to Michael's room.

Staring at the number 4D hanging lopsidedly on the door, he raises his hand to knock. Before he's able to, the door opens and Michael is standing there, looking tired and bedraggled like he hadn't had a wink of sleep either. He is still in yesterday's clothing, minus the jacket. He hopes Michael wasn't standing behind the door peering out the peephole waiting for him, though the thought itself is just absurd. Lucas was on time, right at the dot. That's probably why Michael was already at the door. Either that or he heard Lucas approaching.

"You're here," Michael says like he's shocked that Lucas actually came. Well, no one is more surprised than he is.

"Of course. I'm not one to back out of an agreement."

Michael steps aside to let Lucas in. The hallway is narrow and his arm brushes over Michael's chest as he does and a warm tingle blossoms from the point of contact. Suddenly, he's very conscious of their closeness and he quickens his steps inside, wanting to put as much distance between them as possible.

Michael closes the door behind him and follows. He stands a foot or two away, feet apart and waits, piercing blue eyes intent on his face. Feeling uncomfortable, Lucas diverts his attention to the room. It's small, with a single bed, a mini fridge and a desk by the window, which is the only thing that looks used. A laptop and an opened file lies on top of the desk, notes scattered about. It figures that Michael would be up all night working on the case.

"Did you even sleep?" Lucas asks, glancing over at the untouched bed.

Michael shrugs. "What about you? Did you sleep well? You look horrible."

Bristling at the comment, Lucas snaps. "I could say the same about you." Not one minute in and they're on the verge of another catfight. Closing his eyes and taking a deep calming breath, Lucas exhales slowly. Then, ignoring Michael, he turns towards the desk, scooping up the pile of papers there and flips through it. In a number of the pages, the word 'Crossroad Demons' is circled in red. The name rings a bell. He thinks he's heard it before.

Tapping at the red circle, he glances over his shoulder and asks. "Crossroad Demons? Is that another gang?"

Michael nods, walking over. He stops just inches behind Lucas, head craning as he peers at the papers in his hands. The tip of his black hair almost tickled Lucas's nose, he was that close. Tensing, he waits, unwilling to budge but feels the need to. This close, he's able to get a whiff of motor oil and stale sweat; the smell of their car when they do a stake out. It's not pleasant and brings back more unwanted memories of their bickering during those long hours.

Despite that, Lucas takes a deep breath knowing what he'll find underneath that stench. The faint smell of spices and pine, unique to Michael. The woodsy cologne he always wears. Not too much, not too little, but there. A scent that's so familiar he feels an ache. Lucas swallows the lump in his throat.

"The reason Walker is in town?" Michael taps at the red circle. "He's on a drug run for Kubrick. And it's not the first time he's here either. For the past three months, he'd been here three times. Once each month. He'll meet up with someone called 'Hellhound'. I got my hands on him two days ago. Told me he worked for Crossroad Demons and no, he doesn't know who the leader is. Said he'd never seen him. Only that, on the day of the exchange, he'll get an email stating the time, date and location. That's all he knew."

"And you trusted him?"

"No."

Lucas considers him for a moment. "You let him go," he says. It's not a question. It's a statement.

Michael stays silent, intense blue eyes staring right back at him as if challenging him. Then, he sighs, the tension draining from his shoulder. "He's just a teenager, Luke. Besides, I thought I could trail him. He's bound to meet up with Walker soon. And when he does," Michael makes a 'there-you-go' gesture with his hands. "It's a win-win."

Annoyed by the nickname but decides to let it slip, Lucas hums. "So where is he now?"

Michael averts his gaze at that, looking uncomfortable. "At home?"

Lucas widens his eyes in surprise. "You don't have eyes on him?"

Annoyed, Michael bites out. "I have one set of eyes. And they're right here. So yeah, I don't have eyes on him."

"You couldn't have hired someone to tail him?" Lucas exclaims.

"I'm sorry, I thought this was my case. I didn't realize I have to report every little thing that I do." Lucas stares at him, steaming. "He went home and slept. I thought it would be a good time to check out the incident with the truck stop. And I was right, wasn't I? It was Walker! The only thing that I hadn't expected to encounter was you! Sorry if I was a bit distracted by your sudden rise from the dead, okay?"

Lucas bites the inside of his cheek to stop the barrage of words from spilling and making the situation worse than it is. "So what? Hellhound is still at home?"

Michael flushes. "No. When I went back last night, he wasn't home anymore. I don't know where he went."

"He probably knew you were following him and waited until you're gone to make a run for it."

"Tell me something I don't already know," Michael deadpans.

"I can't believe you lost him. Turns out perfect Michael isn't all that flawless after all," Lucas concludes, smug. Michael gives him a sarcastic smile before saying, "He goes to Lawrence High. And if I'm not mistaken, school starts today. So if he goes in, we can pick up his trail there."

"What makes you think he hadn't already blabbed to whoever's in charge? You said so yourself. You lost him. For all we know, they're making preparations and might have already switched Walker's contact person. Then we'll have nothing."

Michael's eyes blaze. "What do you have me do then? Kill him? Then, we'll have nothing either. And I'm not going to torture him so don't even bring that up," he snaps. Lucas stares at him for a moment, taking in his flushed cheeks and fiery eyes. Sighing, he says. "You know, Michael. For a hired killer, you sure are determined not to get your hands dirty."

Michael huffs, the fury in his eyes dim. "I don't kill teenagers. And I don't torture people. There are better ways to get intel." Lucas had always known this about Michael, but still, he couldn't help feeling a grudging respect for the man in front of him. In this industry, going without torturing is like resisting food when you're starving. It's a necessity. Trying to curb the warm feeling from spreading further, Lucas turns back to the page and frowns. "I've heard of this gang before. I just can't place where I did."

"Well, it had to be local," Michael supplies.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," he sasses. Then, "Huh."

"What?" Michael asks, furrowing his brows at him, intense blue eyes right in his face. Narrowly avoiding stepping back, he glares at Michael, narrowing his eyes. "Do you have to be so close? I can hear you breathing down my face from here." Michael flushes again and steps back. One step. And that's it. Rolling his eyes in frustration, Lucas says. "I know just the person to ask."

[PREVIEW] MWR canon smut up!

Featuring the morning after of Punk x Ash!

[TIER 10] MWR: Bitter Sweet

The morning after... >.<

That's why Punk always left with the feeling that he took advantage of Ash and vice versa >.<

[TIER 10] IATL: Chapter 13

Warning for death, bodily torture and rape (object penetration)

---

"Michael."

The blue-eyed man smirks. "You look good for a dead man." Michael's eyes are intent on Lucas's face, his hands steady as they rest on top of the table. The muzzle of the Colt trained at his chest. He looks relaxed, laid back in Lucas's chair.

Lucas narrows his eyes at Michael, his heart resumes a steady rhythm. Oddly enough, seeing Michael again, in his office of all places, does not jarred him as much as he thought. He was surprised, yes. Shocked, not so much. Lucas looks him over, being obvious about it. He lets his eyes trail down Michael's perfect face with his strong dark brows to his broad chest, and takes in the fitting black t-shirt he had on underneath a dark brown leather jacket. Typical Michael dress code. Simple, subtle, not attention grabbing. He's here on a job.

Lucas curls the corner of his lips. A cold smile complementing the gleam Lucas knows is in his eyes like he's amused. He tilts his head, watching as Michael's cocky expression shifts a little. A flash of something behind his steel blue eyes. With a nonchalance he doesn't have to fake, he saunters towards the desk, one sure step after the other. Their eyes locked on each other, intense and cautious. An impromptu standoff.

Apart from the slight narrowing of his eyes, Michael remains motionless as Lucas settles into the chair opposite him. The whole time, his finger rests on the trigger. Leaning back in the seat, he puts his elbows on the armrest and crosses his fingers in front of him. Then, he hooks his chin above his thumbs. "How did you find me?" he asks, curious.

Something like amusement and familiar exasperation dance in Michaels' eyes as he huffs. The look sends his stomach into chaos. Like a thousand butterflies had decided to take off at once. …Butterflies? "Cocky as always. I see you haven't changed one bit since the last time I saw you."

"You mean the time where you tried to kill me?" Lucas snaps. He meant to sound aloof, detached but instead it came off biting, hurt. He tries to calm himself down, smoothen out his face. If he doesn't get a grip on his emotions, he might as well show his hands. Which will not do. Lucas doesn't want Michael to see how much he affects him.

Something in his expression must be off, though because Michael flinches. The action is not pronounced. More a flicker than anything. If Lucas hadn't been watching him as intently as he did, he would have missed it. Before he could read too much into it, Michael smirks, a small twist at the corner of his lips, leaving Lucas to wonder if he had seen the flinch at all.

"You're still pissed about that?" Michael has the audacity to roll his eyes.

A muscle at the side of his face twitches as he tries to stop the retort he can feel waiting to lash out. A slow dread fills him. Michael is acting like this isn't a big deal. Like this was just one of their petty fights. Like maybe he'd drank from his coffee cup instead of putting a bullet in his chest.

"It was a hit. I'm just doing my job. You know how it is." Michael waves his free hand in a vague gesture.

Oh, he knows how it is alright. They were partners. Hitmen. Assassins. Gun for hire. Or whatever you want to call someone who kills people for a living. It's what they do. It's their job. They get a file containing the target's information and a set of instructions and they follow it to the T. From day one, he knew what Michael was. But he never thought he'd be standing at the end of the barrel of his gun one day.

Unlike Michael, he hadn't started out as a killer. When he turned eighteen, he left the halfway house to join the army. He was a natural. Survival is second nature for him. He didn't survive the system by being soft. He did it by being the alpha. Before long he was promoted to special forces where he served for two years. It was then that the lines started to blur. There's no white or black anymore. Just gray.

And the things he had done in the name of his beloved country. The one he swore to protect and serve. He didn't know how torture and extortion contributed to any of that. He didn't know when his life became a string of lies, manipulation and violence. Every day that passed left him a little colder, less caring. Emotionless. Numb. He had to be in order to cope. He had to be an unfeeling foot soldier, ready to act at every bark of an order. Soon, it became routine.

It wasn't until his last assignment that he came to question everything. Question his actions, doubts niggling at the edge of his mind. His mission was pretty cut and dry. Seduce, infiltrate and report back. A recon. His target was Duarte Saverin, a wealthy businessman from Lisbon, Portugal. According to his superior, he was part of an intricate, almost impenetrable syndicate worldwide. A string of webs and connections that layered into every level of financial and political hierarchy. Because of its sensitive subjects, the organization as a whole is still shrouded in darkness, sub to core members unknown. Lucas was tasked to uncover it. Their only lead was Duarte.

Going by the cover, Noah Palicki, his orders were clear. Duarte had a daughter, Isabel Saverin. Based on the intel they had, she was not involved with her father's activity and was oblivious to his involvement with the syndicate. Lucas was to approach her, seduce her and get her father's trust. It seemed easy enough. It wasn't his first rodeo. The fact that he rarely felt any romantic inclination worked in his favor.

What he hadn't expected was that Isabel turned out to be a strong independent woman with a heart of gold. He was enamored by her kindness, her love for life in everything she did. She volunteered at the grief recovery support group twice a week. It was decided that he is to make first contact there, under the guise of losing his wife and child to a drunk driver. Their relationship progressed steadily just as planned, but his feelings for her developed throughout the months as well. Until one day, he realized that he'd fallen for her.

On the work front, he was well on his way to acquiring Duarte's confidence. And when wedding plans were made a year later, he was finally taken into the fold. Duarte had told him he wanted someone he can trust, someone who could take over the business. And not just the one for the public. He'd told Lucas about the syndicate then, keeping it vague, gauging him, testing him. He wanted to see if his future son-in-law had what it takes for the task at hand.

Months into the wedding, he was systematically introduced into the ranks. It was slow work, but he had been gaining intel, observing and reporting back. The syndicate had been bigger than they thought, their network reaching worldwide level. So deep in his cover, it was terrifying and stressful. And his relationship with Isabel blossomed more than ever, her support and love was what kept him going. Even though he knew one day, the truth will surface.

The day came sooner than he'd thought. Someone from his own side betrayed him. A mole. And his cover was blown. He was ambushed, confronted in a room with Duarte and his brother, Andreas who had been against him from the very start. Untrusting and jealous. Jealous that Duarte favored him. The situation was dire; he knew there were men stationed outside the door and as soon as he opened fire, they would rush in. But he was trained for this type of situation. Lucas drew out his gun and shot, hitting Duarte in the chest. He went down but not before both brothers managed to squeeze out shots of their own. He was hit. But it wasn't fatal.

Men rushed in and it was chaos. Bullets flew, brain matter splattered on the walls, men toppling over to their death. In the midst of all that violence, Isabel ran in. And it was reflex, well worn into him, that had him raise his gun and shoot at the newcomer. The stunned look on her face as she stood, still for a moment before she toppled backward still haunts him. The dribble of blood trickling from the wound in her head down her straight nose. He froze. Unable to react, unable to think. All his training hadn't prepared him for this. Hadn't prepared him for the murder of someone he loved. He was overpowered within minutes.

The next time he woke up, he was in captivity. The one person he saw was Andreas. And occasionally his men. The months he spent in Andreas's hand was hell, his day passed in a haze of pain and humiliation. Every single day, Andreas would come up with a new form of torture to torment him. He had been drowned and revived. Bludgeoned with blunt objects. Had his bones broken and healed and broken again. His nails tore from their place on his fingers and toes.

After several months of that, Andreas had decided to get more creative. He started abusing him sexually, forcing object after object into his anus. He was torn open with the blunt head of a baseball bat. The handle of a sniper. Cracked beer bottles. And one time, for the thrill of it, Andreas shoved a colt inside him and played Russian Roulette with the one bullet he left inside. It had escalated to the point where he couldn't remember what it was like to not feel the wetness between his asscheeks. He had bled into his dirty stained boxers for the rest of his captivity.

There was nothing but time and pain in that cell; to reflect, to think. Someone had betrayed him, and his people had left him here to rot in his own blood and feces. After all that he had done, after all that he had sacrificed. He can't see the point anymore. The first few months, he had burned with a deep hatred, had vowed revenge but as the days wore on, the anger dulled into resentment. And in time, defeat. He had no energy left to harbor such strong feelings. He was going to die alone and broken in this cell anyway.

Or so he thought, until one day, the door opened and it wasn't Andreas at the entrance but Michael. The man had looked at him with steely blue eyes, mouth in a firm line, head tilted. Thinking that he was another one of Andreas's men, came to torture him some more, Lucas stared up at him, unflinching from the corner of the room. The floor is dirty with bodily fluids, piss and excrement but he doesn't care. His dignity is long gone. He wasn't afraid of Andreas anymore, by then he just wanted to die. So he kept staring.

Michael had saved him from that hell hole. He had taken Lucas back to his home, tended his wounds and took care of him until he was able to stand on his own two feet. Until broken bones healed and bruises faded. It took him three weeks for his anus to stop bleeding. He felt humiliated every time he sat down and blood seeped into his underwear. Michael never said a word when he noticed the stains and for that, he was grateful.

Two months passed, and he was starting to look like himself again. He was glad Andreas's preferred method of torture did not include the knife. There's not a scar on his body to remind him of his time in hell. But put him behind an x-ray and it will tell a whole different story.

Michael hadn't said it, but during the months when he was healing, he had left a few times. Staying away for a few days at a time. And each time, he would pack a bag. Lucas had packed enough provisions in his time to know what that bag meant. He didn't comment on it, until one day, Michael approached him with a set of photographs. They were the men who had tortured him. He hadn't said anything, just laid them down on the table and fixed him with those damn blue eyes. Asking but not asking.

He knew then that Michael was on the job the day he met him. Knew that Andreas is dead. He felt a pang of regret that he wasn't able to kill the bastard himself. But he went after all the men that had taken part in his torture and dehuminazation with a fervor. A single-minded focus, sparing no thoughts or sympathy as he shot them down dead, one by one. Ever since then, he was Michael's unofficial partner.

Their working relationship slowly developed into a sort of kinship. Not exactly a friendship. But you don't go into the battlefield without some kind of bond and trust with the person having your back. Living in the same house, sharing the same space, traveling together, they were inseparable. They have learned each other's habits and quirks, falling into step with one another.

While Lucas's methods are more instinct-based, Michael is the complete opposite. He is clinical and meticulous with laser sharp precision, calculating his every move. He treats each assignment with the same level of commitment, his eyes on the prize. He went through kills like drill. Lucas knew this, and he admired Michael's professionalism and conviction.

So yes, if Lucas was the intended target, Michael wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet through his head. Funny how he'd known that but it still hurts anyway. The betrayal sings in his blood. Staring at the man in front of him, he sighs. "What do you want, Michael?"

Michael continues to stare at him. Then very deliberately, he lifts his finger from the trigger, flips the safety on and places the colt on the table; muzzle faced away from the both of them. Lucas glances down at the colt then back up at Michael, frowning. "You're not going to shoot me?" he asks tonelessly, ignoring the stirring in his guts at the gesture.

"Why would I? You were presumed dead. My work is done," Michael shrugs.

Lucas narrows his eyes at Michael's words. He knows that is not quite the truth. To end every assignment, they need proof of death. Usually a picture or a death certificate. And he had none. Michael seems to be hiding something behind those words and if given the time, Lucas would analyze it further, but there are more pressing matters at the moment like- "You haven't answered my question. How did you find me?"

"I didn't find you," he says, enunciating the word 'find.' "I thought you were dead." His words are soft but stoic. Michael's gaze wavers for a brief second before they harden into an icy pool of water again. He slides a file across the table. Lucas stares at it, frowning when he realizes that it's not one of his.

"Go ahead. Read it."

He hesitates, staring at Michael, trying to figure out what he's playing at. When he sees nothing outwardly, he reaches for the file. Opening it, he recognizes it immediately for what it is. This is a target. His eyes widen as he sees the photograph. That's the man that assaulted Gabriel.

Lucas scans through the information in the files, eyes flitting through the page. Gordon Walker. Age 39, Black, 6ft tall. Right-hand man for Madden Kubrick of Bleeding Vamps, a gang in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Arrested for possession of drug with intent to sell, aggravated sexual assault and suspicion for first-degree murder. He was not charged on any of those arrests on reasons that they were dropped or thrown from court because of a technicality. The more he reads about this man, the angrier he becomes. He closes the file calmly and leans back in his seat.

"I want in."

Michael considers him for a moment, his blue eyes prodding. "I've been tracking Walker's movement for a while now. I knew he would be in town. So I've been lying in wait. Three days and nothing. But then, I heard about the attack at the truck stop." His eyes are shining bluer than ever now, piercing. "Imagine my surprise when I saw you at the hospital. You were so furious; you didn't even realize I was there."

His heart skips a beat. Was Michael at the hospital? His blood runs cold at the thought. The fact that he was so close to Michael and not knowing. The hair at the back of his neck stands. They stare at one another across the table, trying to see who can outlast the other. The silence in the room is near suffocating. Then-

"Gabriel Ward."

"What about him?"

"What is he to you?"

Lucas sneers. "I don't see how that's any of your business."

"You think I wouldn't find out?" Michael challenges.

Lucas shrugs. "I've long since cared what you do or don't do, Michael."

Michael blinks, his cocky expression falters. If Lucas doesn't know better, he'll say that he looked stung. Then, his face turns stony. "Fine," he bites out, reaching out for the colt. Just as his hand clasps over the piece, Lucas whips his hand out and closes it on top of Michael's, holding them down. Michael snaps his eyes up, blue eyes blazing.

"I want in," he repeats.

"Why?" Michael spits out. He looks angry, spiteful. His beautiful face twisted in fury. …Beautiful?

"He hurt someone I cared about. I want to hurt him back. That's what you call having a person's back. A notion I doubt you understand." Seems like Michael isn't the only one feeling spiteful tonight. Add petty into the mix as well.

Michael looks like he's about to snap back at him, the way his eyes glare dagger into him. So he's surprised when Michael smiles, albeit a mirthless one, cold and hard. "Fine," he says in a fake light tone. "If you want to be partners again, Luke. All you have to do is say so," he shrugs and before Lucas could come back with a retort for that, Michael snatches his hand back from under him, the colt firmly in his grip. He pockets it, giving him a small smirk.

"I never said I wanted to be partners again. And don't call me that." Anger unfurls in his chest, spreading its flame through his body, lighting him up.

"What? Luke?" Lucas narrows his eyes at the nickname. "Oh come on." Michael rolls his eyes.

"You lost the right the minute you decided to kill me."

"You're not dead, are you? Stop being such a drama queen. You've suffered worse. What's a little bullet wound?"

"You're right. I did suffer worse. I just didn't expect the same treatment from someone I considered a friend-" he stops then, abrupt. Lucas hadn't meant for that to come out. It's too late now. Gritting his teeth, he glares at Michael.

He doesn't look too cocky anymore. In fact, he looks devastated, eyes pained. He opens his mouth as if to say something but closes them again, mouth in a thin line, a defeated slump to the set of his shoulders. He takes a moment to compose himself, his face reverting to its neutral calm even as his eyes retain that haunted look. The sight fills him with a petty satisfaction. But then Michael had to ruin it all by saying, "You're right. I'm sorry."

Lucas blinks. Did Michael say he was sorry? Michael? The 'I am always right' Mr. Know-It-All saying he's sorry? That comes as a surprise. He never expects Michael to apologize for what he did. And to hear it, it startles him. But then again, he wasn't apologizing for the shot. He's apologizing for making light of it. There's a difference. Trying to hold onto the anger that's slowly slipping away, Lucas announces. "It's late. And I'm tired. Let's talk about this tomorrow. How does nine in the morning work for you?" He knows Michael is an early riser but him, not so much.

"Nine is fine," Michael agrees, standing up. Then, he holds out his hand. Lucas stares at it, deliberating. Then, he stands too and takes Michael's hand, giving it a firm shake. He can't help but feel like this is a huge mistake.

Michael's presence is giving him a lot of mixed feelings, and he isn't sure if he likes it. He ought to hate the man. But he doesn't. Instead, he's feeling butterflies. Seeing Michael again stirs something inside him that had laid dormant for the past six months. Something he kept hidden. Buried. Emotions that never see the light of day. Feelings that he doesn't care to explore. Conflicted sentiments and warring intuitions. He needs to stay the fuck away.

So no one is more surprised than he is when he hears himself saying, "One job. And then we're done, Michael." He tells himself that this is for Gabriel. That he wants to exact revenge on the person that had hurt him. Nothing else.

That haunted look is still lingering around Michael's eyes, casting them in shadows. A ghost of the brilliant blue they can be. The simmers of the sea. The promise of a clear blue sky. Lucas must be more tired than he thought if he's waxing poetry about Michael's eyes. Michael gives him a small but genuine smile.

"Deal." He gives Lucas another firm shake of the hand. And if there's a tingle racing up his arms from where his hand is closed around Michael's, then it is no one's business but his own.

[TIER 15] Incoming post!

Sending out April's postcard now! Wait for that postman! XD

[TIER 10] IATL: Chapter 12

Gabriel stares up into familiar green eyes that seem to dance and shimmer in the dim light. They're rimmed red and puffy like Chase had been crying. His eyes wander to the dried tear tracks on his cheeks. Chase was crying, he realized, shocked. Why? A singsong taunt starts up in his head. Pop goes the weasel! Gabriel lowers his eyes, burning with shame.

His lips start to tremble, and he can't hold Chase's gaze any longer. He feels vulnerable, exposed. He doesn't want Chase to see him like this. Stripped bare and tore open. The evidence of abuse is clear as day on his skin. Beaten, used and left for dead. Nothing but trash. And now Chase knows. Knows just how disposable he is. Tears prickles at his eyes and he's about to duck his head when he notices Chase's clothes.

Or lack of one. He's wearing a hospital gown, very much like the one he had on. Concern and worry trump over any doubts and insecurities he may be feeling. He pushes himself up but stumbles when a sharp pain shoots up his spine and his world spins. Overwhelmed with a sudden crippling dizziness, he collapses back onto the bed, gasping. His vision blurs. He squeezes his eyes shut.

There are hands on him and he hears words, but they sound far away, underwater, distorted. The firm grip on his shoulders is a reassuring weight, grounding him. Once the wooziness in his head clears, he opens his eyes. Chase is leaning over him, face so close he can feel his breath puffing on his face.

"Chase..." he whispers.

"Gabe," Chase whispers back, a sense of urgency in his voice. "You scared the crap out of me." Chase tries to go for stern, but Gabriel can hear the crack in his voice. He squints up at Chase, disoriented before remembering. "Chase, are you hurt? Did something happen to you?" he asks, his voice a deep gravel, hoarse. He tries clearing his throat, swallowing around saliva that are barely there.

Chase notices, and he takes the glass of water by his bed and positions the straw in his mouth. Grateful, he sucks and relishes at the feel of cool water saturating his mouth and down his throat. He drinks, eyes closed, letting out a small sigh as he releases the straw with a soft pop. A trickle of water drips down the corner of his mouth, rolling down the side of his throat. Chase stares at it, transfixed before lifting his eyes to settle on his lips. When a second too long goes by, Chase startles and flushes, averting his eyes guiltily as he places the glass back on the bedside table.

"Thank you, Chase," he says, feeling much better but still worried, his eyebrows furrowed. "Chase," he hesitates, then "Please tell me you're alright."

Chase's eyes widen and then he huffs, his face just a little broken. "Fuck, Gabe..." He shakes his head, still close enough that Gabriel could see the smattering of freckles on his face. He looks pale, exhausted. "Only you," he says. "Only you can be worried about someone else when you're the one lying in a hospital bed after almost-" His voice cracks. "You almost died, Gabe," Chase chokes out, staring at him with desperate eyes.

He stares back at Chase, eyes wide and frightened. He remembered wishing he was dead. He remembered begging for them to kill him. He had wanted to die. He thought he did.

"Gabe..." Chase lifts up a hand and places it gently against his cheek, stroking a thumb against the scruff there. "Don't you ever do that again. I can't-" He breaks off again, clears his throat and tries once more. "I can't lose you. Please don't make me lose you too." Tears well up in those forest green eyes and Gabriel feels his own tears coming.

"I'm sorry," he croaks out.

"Gabe..." Chase groans frustrated, squeezing his eyes shut. "Why are you apologizing?"

"I don't know," he answers truthfully. Then, he hazard a guess. "Because I made you cry?"

Chase snorts. "Do you even know why I'm crying?"

Gabriel stares at Chase's open face, so earnest, so sincere it hurts. Because what he's implying, it cannot be true. He doesn't dare to hope, but he does anyway. His heart thuds a heavy beat. Mouth tight, he shakes his head.

"I'm the one who found you, you know," Chase says, his voice soft in the small room. Intimate.

Gabriel's eyes widened. He's so confused. Thinking back, he doesn't remember how he came to be at the hospital. He had thought Lucas was the one who had found him. That he came searching for him when he missed Chastity's appointment. But here is Chase, telling him otherwise. "But- how?" Maybe Lucas sent Chase instead, not bothering at all. The thought saddens him.

"You never gave me a chance to explain myself." At Chase's answer, he's feeling more confused than ever. Tilting his head, he waits for Chase to continue. "What you said this afternoon. It's not true. You're not to blame for what happened, Gabe and I need you to know that."

His heart constricts painfully. He shakes his head, looking away. "Chase..."

"No, Gabe, I searched the whole house for you! And when Lucas told me where you were-" He sighs. "Why?" he asks. When Gabriel doesn't answer, he continues. "Why do you have such a low opinion on yourself? Why do you think you deserve to be alone and friendless? You walked away before I can tell you. I still want to be your friend, Gabe." Gabriel looks up at that, eyes wide in shock.

A nervous, unsure expression flits through Chase's face. Almost like he's insecure. But then, they harden, determined, and he plows on. "Gabe, when I entered the restroom, and found you..." Chase rubs a hand over his mouth, "Lying in a pool of your blood, unresponsive. It scared the shit out of me." His voice is tremulous, shaky. "I thought you were dead. And at that moment, I knew." He trails off.

"Knew what?" His own voice is barely above a whisper. It feels like he's standing at the edge of something huge, something big. And it's either going to save him or crush him.

"That, what I felt for you had changed."

The words hit him hard. After all that Chase had said, about how his perception of Gabriel hadn't changed, how he still wants to be his friend, it's all for naught because of what happened to him. And he did this to himself. If he hadn't gone to the truck stop in the first place... Gabriel closes his eyes and almost laughs. Almost.

So this is how it feels like to fall. Gabriel feels like he's falling into a bottomless pit, the certainty of death that never comes. The bereft feeling is never ending. It was stupid of him to hope. He doesn't know why his heart never got the memo. There's a brush of fingers underneath his chin, tilting his head up.

"It became something more. Something so much more." Chase's eyes are shining, intense and serious. Gabriel opens his mouth; he wants to say something, but nothing comes out, heart stuck in his throat. Then, Chase pulls away and stands.

Panicked, Gabriel's throat unstuck, and he blurts out, "Where are you going?"

Chase gives him a small smile and walks toward the other side of his bed, pushing the curtain surrounding one side of his bed aside. A flash of lightning lights up the room, followed by the distant rumble a moment later. His eyes glue to the spectacle outside. At the rain lashing at the window, droplets accumulate on the glass, each one reflecting the soft light in the room. Another lightning flashes, illuminating the night sky. This high up, with no buildings or trees blocking the view, Gabriel could see the form of the lightning, spreading out like tree roots in the sky. He feels the corner of his lips curl up, lost in the display.

The bed dips on one side. Chase is sitting on the bed near his stomach, staring out the window with a small smile. Instead of freckles, his face is now littered with little round circles, shadows of the droplet littering the glass window. It's scattered everywhere, from his face down his neck to the plain hospital gown. He looks so serene and peaceful like this.

Chase turns his face towards him and smirks. "I promised you the next time it rains; we're going on a date. Well, since you clearly aren't going anywhere, I thought I would bring the date to you. It's pretty last minute, and I didn't have time to plan it. There's no blanket fort or hot chocolates," he trails off looking sheepish. "I hope you don't mind that it's just little old me. And the storm of course."

Again, Gabriel is stunned speechless. Is Chase proposing what Gabriel thinks he is proposing? Is this Chase asking him out on a date? Are they on a date? His head is spinning so fast, his heart thumping so loud he's sure Chase could hear them. His foolish heart is inching towards hope again. Breathless, he stammers out. "Chase, I- I don't understand."

Tilting his head up towards the ceiling, Chase expels an explosive sigh. "God, you're going to make me spell this out for you word for word, aren't you?"

"If you don't mind," he says, unable to tame the flames of something inside him. Licking and taunting him. Chase inhales deeply before dropping his head down to look at him. His gaze is sharp, searching. Gabriel doesn't know what he's looking for, so he stares back, head tilted and brow furrowed, and waits. After what seems like forever, Chase's eyes steeled with resolve. Turning his body to face Gabriel, Chase takes his hands into his.

"Gabe, I like you. In fact, if I'm going to go all teenage girl here on you, I'll even say I like like you." Gabriel's heart stutters. "A lot. And before you tell me it's impossible, we only knew each other a few weeks, barely even talking then- Well, shut up and hear me out. I've been crushing on you for a while now. From the moment, I laid eyes on you. Almost two months ago." Gabriel's eyes widened. "I'm not stupid. I know what a crush is, and I admit I was first drawn by your blue eyes, your smile, your bedhead. Point is, I was attracted, but I didn't know you. Not then."

Chase looks hurt as he continues. "I would see bruises on you and I don't know where they're from. I thought they were from bullies and I ended up following you around. You were so oblivious, you didn't even realize. Then, one morning, I saw you with Lucas. I thought he was just an abusive boyfriend, but a few weeks later, I came to the home and what I saw was worse than I thought- I got to see a part of you that I've never seen before. Or anticipated."

"I didn't understand," Chase says, shaking his head. "Why would you just take it? I thought you were just too broken. But the last two days show me something different. That night at the club, after we- You protected me. You took the brunt of the night. You did all that without asking anything in return. You're not broken. You're too good. And this morning, being in your company, seeing the world the way you do, talking to you- I did get to know you. The real you. Not some imaginary version of you I concocted in my head. And the person I saw- is someone strong. Brave. Capable of so much love and forgiveness, it's beautiful," he whispers as Gabriel clings desperately to Chase's every word.

"After you left today, I beat myself up for not stopping you. I couldn't get you out of my head. I kept replaying what you said, replaying what we did, what we shared. And I know I can't let you go another second feeling guilty for crap that isn't your fault to begin with. I know I'm acting like a lovesick teenage girl but crap, I like it. I like how thinking about you can make me smile. How every look you throw my way can make me blush like a virgin. How hearing you laugh makes my heart sing. And how much I want to be the one to put that smile on your face and laughter in your eyes. And how much it pains me to see you hurt," Chase's voice cracks.

"And you were hurt. And I wasn't there. I wasn't there to stop it. I failed you, Gabe and all I can do is pray, beg to be given a second chance. A chance to tell you how I feel. A chance for us." Chase is looking at him with such raw longing in his eyes. The meaning of what he said finally dawns on him. He squeezes Chase's hand, feels the solidness of it, feels the warmth and assures himself that this is real. Chase is here. And he is telling him all this.

Slowly, Chase leans in close until their foreheads are touching and closes his eyes. "I love you, Gabe," he whispers like a confession. "And you don't have to do anything with that. I just needed you to know." A teardrop falls from Chase's closed lashes onto Gabriel's cheek. Letting go of Chase's hand, he brings both hands up to hold Chase's face, coaxing him to open his eyes. When he did, it's like staring into the sun. As he gazes into the fiery green depth, he knows that every word rings true.

For the first time that night, Gabriel breaks into a smile. Then, he lets out a choked-off laugh, smiling so wide his lips split open again, a bubble of blood blossoming. But he doesn't care. Chase said he loves him. This sweet kind loving man loves him. Gabriel. He thinks he can fly.

"Chase..." The name sounds so right in his mouth, the way it rolls off his tongue, an exhale that is familiar. "I don't know what to say. But I'm really happy," he expresses, his voice shaky with emotion. Still clutching Chase's face, their nose almost touching, he clears his throat. "And I think- I'm falling for you too, Chase. Hard and fast. And it's not stopping."

Chase pulls back, not far, just so he could stare down at Gabriel, his face disbelieving. "You do?" he chokes out, surprised. "What about Lucas? I thought-" At the mention of Lucas, his smile falters. Chase stops, lets his sentence hang, expression unsure.

"I loved Lucas. I did," he stresses, needing Chase to understand. "But is it love when it's only one-sided? Is it love when he used what we had against me?" He lets go of Chase's face and retreats in on himself, turning his face away to look out the window. "I've been so blind. I couldn't see or maybe I didn't want to see."

"Chase, you're right the first time around. I'm a mess. I'm broken. I'm not who I used to be. The Gabriel before this was shy. Introvert. Reserved. But he always had this optimism. This light in him. I'm not him anymore. I don't know if I can ever feel that way again. What Lucas did, it broke something in me. I'm not like you, Chase. I'm not a fighter. He took and he took and now there's barely anything left. You deserve someone better than the shell of the person I used to be."

The rain continues to pour, filling the room with their patters. He hugs himself, tears welling in his eyes. "When they-'' His voice cracks. "When they did things to me, they were telling me all these things. Things about me. Horrible things. And they weren't wrong." He laughs a bitter sound. "How can you rape a whore?" The tears spill over, and he wipes them away with the back of his hands. Staring up at Chase, he voices out the brutal truth. "How can you love someone who doesn't love himself?"

"Gabe, hey. Don't think like that. I'm a whore too. Does that mean I can't be raped?"

Horrified, he answers without hesitation. "Of course not."

Chase's face softened. "Then why is it not the same for you?"

Frustrated, he grips the sheets. "Because I didn't fight it, Chase! I let it happen."

Chase grabs his wrist and holds it up, motioning to the number of cuts and bruises on them. "What is this then? I know defensive wounds when I see them, Gabe. You fought."

Snatching his wrist back, he glares at them. "Doesn't matter." Feeling spiteful, he looks Chase straight in the eyes and with a bitter smile on his face, he adds. "They all had a turn anyway. Even came back for more." When Chase's face falls, he wants to retract those words right away but he doesn't. Too stubborn. He does avert his gaze though. "That's not what I was referring to, and you know it."

"Lucas manipulated you! He used your feelings for him and twisted it into something... Wrong. You said so yourself!" When he still refuses to look at Chase, he leans down until they're eye-level and catches his eyes. Their eyes locked. "You and I, we're not so different. I might have fought initially, but I gave up. Do you know why?" Brows furrowing, he shakes his head. "Because of Sam."

"See, you didn't fight because you loved Lucas. And I stopped fighting because I love Sam. Our reasons are one and the same. So if you don't blame me, you shouldn't blame yourself either."

Gabriel has been feeling nauseated ever since this conversation started, his gut churning, twisting into a tight ball like a cloth being wrung of its water, leaving him feeling dry but not empty. No, he's filled to the brim with darkness. Sadness, regret, pain and worst of all- guilt. An overwhelming sense of guilt that threatens to drown him. But now, he can feel something else trickling in. Something like hope. And something else. A note of forgiveness. For himself. A possibility for redemption. A way out of this vicious circle he had put himself in. And Chase was the one to give it to him.

"Chase..." There are not enough words in the English language to express the enormity of his gratitude. It feels like he can breathe again. The weight he's been carrying around with him these past months finally lifted. He feels like he's able to move forward, dare to see better things for himself. Dare to believe that maybe, he too deserves to be loved and can be loved. So instead, he stares up at Chase and utters the two words he knows would have to do. "Thank you."

"Don't sweat it, Gabe," he smiles, eyes soft and tender, brimming with affection. A look that no one had thrown his way before and Gabriel finds himself overwhelmed. The good sort. Before he can think too much about it, he finds himself blurting. "Can we kiss?"

"Do you need to ask?"

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"Well, in that case. Yes," Chase whispers, smirking as he leans down and presses his soft lips against his chapped ones. Gabriel closes his eyes. It's a light kiss. Chaste. And the brush of contact sends him into a tingly mess. From the tip of his ears all the way down to toes. They both let out a small exhale, lips still touching.

Grinning, he opens his eyes and is met with Chase's happy ones. "That was nice. Can we do that again?" Chase asks, his lips brushing against his as he whispers. Eyes crinkling with how hard he's smiling, Gabriel nods. He can feel Chase's lips curl up into a smile as he deepens the kiss, Gabriel letting out an undignified moan into it.

After a while, Chase pulls back. "As much as I want to kiss that lips of yours swollen, you need to rest." He jumps off the bed, ignoring Gabriel's whine of protest. Then, he turns around and fusses over him, tucking the covers around him nice and warm. Once he is satisfied with his handiwork, he mumbles. "Go to sleep, Gabe. I'll be right here with you." He settles back into the chair and props his legs up on Gabriel's bed, his hands crossed over his chest. Smiling at Gabriel, he coos. "Sleep tight. Don't let the bedbugs bite."

Laughing, he settles into the bed comfortably. "I'm not a six years old child, Chase."

"Could have fooled me. You look all small and angelic tucked into bed like that," he teases. Gabriel rolls his eyes, shaking his head fondly. Then, he sneaks his hand out from under the covers and lays them with his palm facing upwards. Without skipping a beat, Chase slides his hands into his, giving him a little squeeze. They stare at each other until one by one, their eyes slide shut, and their soft snores add to the ambiance of the room.

[PREVIEW] MWR up!

Who likes it when they flirt? XD

[TIER 2] MWR: The Little Things

When you take little pleasure to make it through the day in one piece XD What are your little things that you can share? ^^

[PREVIEW] Happy Mother's Day!

Featuring daddy Drew XD don't forget to tell your mom that you love them lmao it's not easy being a mom >.<lll

[TIER 3] MWR: Happy Mother's Day!

When all you want for Mother's Day is to NOT be a mom for the day and go and spoil yourself XD XD XD Daddy Drew to the rescue! XD