Chapter Text
“Hey, you never showed me your basement!”
You say and I freeze, staring at you and trying to find something to say, while regretting having told you about the bookshop’s basement as a body — Benji’s — is resting in its cage. Fuck, I’m fucked. Well, I am if I don't manage to turn things around.
“I haven’t? Well, it’s nothing impressive, really."
“You just said it held a great treasure, Joe. Rare books. I wanna see!” You chime as you smirk and I’m weak, I want to give in and I want to give you anything you want but I won’t, Beck, or else I don’t think you’ll react well. Hey, I got rid of Benji for you, for us to thrive, because you need someone like me but let’s be real, I don’t believe you’d like to see his rotten face lying on the basement’s floor.
I wince.
“Ah. It's just… I’m embarrassed. I mean, it’s a bit of a mess down there, how about you wait a little?” A teasing tone escaping my lips and I hope it will awaken your curiosity.
“I don’t mind the mess. Can’t be worse than my room…” You scratch the back of your neck, where golden hair meets rosy skin, where the sweetest smells come from, where I’d like to kiss and lick because why can your necklace be so close to that area while I cannot?
“I assure you, it is. Trust me.” And yes, perfect, you seem to believe my words — I mean I’m not lying, it is a mess down there — but fuck, you’re pouting. Wait, is that a smirk I detect as well?
“Joe… C’mon… Please?” You purr, getting closer to me and I’m pretty sure you’re flirting with me. I can’t, Beck, I really can’t, even if I wish you could see Benji and thank me for it because this definitely isn’t funny to deal with. Well, the lie-detector was, I’ll admit, but now it’s a real fucking stress and I’m getting rid of the body tonight.
I can’t do anything besides staring at you, you’re mesmerizing and what if there’s a chance that you react positively?
“...Fin—”
I start but it’s too late, something on that phone of yours distract you and all spark of playfulness and flirtiness fades away. Instead, you become anxious, concerned and I don’t even have to check on your phone nor to ask you because I instantly guess what, who it is about.
“Peach—” You say, murmur a sorry excuse, before rushing out of the shop.
Well, fuck.
I think the basement will have to be closed a little longer. Seems like I’ll soon have another body to deal with…