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“You know I hate it when you smoke.”
There was no ill intent behind my words, yet he turned to me and fixed his stare on me as if I had just screamed at his face - those red eyes that usually transmitted rage and even pain could only distil love to me, even if he didn’t intend so. It was almost beautiful and I almost said it, but I kept my thoughts to myself as I watched him take another puff off the cigarette.
Poetic, I thought once more as ideas of me cuddling up to him afterwards attacked my imagination, but I pushed them away as fast as they came. He wouldn’t like that at all.
He seemed to glisten in the dark as he turned around to let the smoke out of his system, his profile sharp and his skin flawed; I thanked my luck that he at least understood what I said and turned off the little devil on the ashtray he kept on his bedside table. I felt cold, but I didn’t express it out loud and I didn’t know if it was out of fear or something else. “You know I don’t care what you hate.”
“You cared enough to put it out,” I spat, and something told me I shouldn’t have said that – the repercussions in the next few missions will be great. “Do you think we’ll suffer another attack soon?” I tried to divert the subject of the conversation, but he didn’t seem to be paying any attention, instead choosing to sit on the edge of the bed, already fishing for his scattered clothes and… hands. His back faced me and I saw the traces of our earlier game, how I damaged the already scarred skin a bit more and I recalled his short-lived heat above me, his grunts in my ear.
He cleared his throat before he spoke, yet it sounded more like a hiss than anything else. “If the big boss doesn’t get involved, we should be safe for another while. Now go, I have important business to attend to.” He could be spitting fire at me and I would still think he was the most beautifully broken person on this planet, and I was not sure if that was a good thing. “I’m sure I’ve left your clothes near the door, so you can just go grab them.”
I looked around and the place never seemed bigger; the empty walls, the general messiness, the moonlight entering through the small window and reflecting the little stains on the glass. Leaning on my side, I placed a hand on the part of the bed he had occupied earlier only to find his warmth had already vanished. The smell of ashes remained on the air. “You know… I was actually wondering if I…”
“You cannot stay,” he cut me off quickly, and I came to the realization that it would all be for naught – he wasn’t going to change suddenly, and I didn’t really expect that to happen. For once, I felt exposed in front of him. I didn’t speak as he finished changing, instead following his every move with a small smile. If someone saw me they’d think I was crushing on my leader, but they would be seriously wrong – I was in love. “The others might’ve heard enough of your whining tonight already. Get dressed and get going; I don’t need you here anymore.”
Times like that one came every time he failed on a mission and it was always the same process: go out, lose, get back to the hideout and get pulled into his room, no changes. At some points it made me feel like his toy, like someone he’d only ever use, but I couldn’t say I wasn’t happy with at least getting to feel him closer to me. Weird looks were given to me whenever I walked out, sometimes stumbling, but I had grown used to them and the other members had grown used to the situation as well.
Feelings towards him were useless and a waste of time, and I didn’t hesitate as I got out of bed and walked towards my crumpled shirt in front of the door like he had said, finding my pants next to the bed along with my underwear – it was always a mystery how he didn’t accidentally disintegrate my clothes, but I had no time for boring questions. “Well, it was a pleasure like always, leader,” I say, and he gives me a deadly look from behind Father.
“Go,” and this time it’s an order I don’t dare to disobey.
I walked out, and only when I was far enough from him did I let out a long sigh, my heartbeat quickening and tears forming in my eyes as I leaned against a wall. “If fate is cruel enough to give me this,” I whispered to myself, “why isn’t it cruel enough to make you realize you feel the same?”
Because I didn’t know it, yet I could feel it when he chose me and every time he held me close with the exact same care he used with his most prized possessions – and it felt real, and it was enough for me.
Poetic, I thought, but also deadly.