The daylight had slowly drooped across the city of Austin, spreading lazy streaks of light across the ground, basking the city in a calming orange. Michael Jones was in an overall adequate mood, strolling casually down the pavement on his way home from the office. He mannerly planned out the rest of the day, considering meeting up with Lindsay, (after all, it was his finance) when he took note of his phone's vibration, and contently answered. It didn't take long to learn that the call was from Gavin.
"Ey, Gav, what's bitchin'?" Michael asked nonchalantly. The other man had not shown up at work that day, and Michael was curious as of why.
Gavin was wandering his somewhat new house, of which he bought for himself a mere few months ago. He smirked to himself as his boy's voice made way through the phone.
"Miiicoooooo, do you wanna hang ooout at my place?" spoke Gavin playfully in a sing-song voice, sliding lazily onto the couch. Both sides of conversation we're grinning widely now. Michael forgot about hanging out with Lindsay at this point. In reality, he deeply cared more about the brit than Lindsay, but he wasn't one to be willing to mention this. Without hesitation, he agreed, and jogged home for preparation. Gavin put the phone down, and smiled brightly. He as well ran off to prepare.
Michael's car pulled up smoothly to the brit's home. Gav peeked through the window and was elated to see his guest. He swung the door wide, which startled Michael, but the Jersey boy was anything but reluctant to enter and be in the man's company. He had been to Gav's house many times over the past few months, and enjoyed the place each visit. Michael felt that it was a little odd that the thrilled taller man had offered him some tea, (well, more commanded than offered) as tea wasn't exactly his preferable beverage, and Gavin knew it. The guest knew his boy loved tea, and didn't want to reject his offer, so politely drank it.
"Fuck, man, that tea wasn't that bad." mumbled Michael, quite amused at how the drink had tasted. Gavin smirked at the amused man.
"Well, that's top! I'm glad. It's a shame you won't get to drink any more." chuckled that british began to feel a little unsteady. The room blurred twistedly like a fresh painting dripping paint everywhere.
"Wha..why? are you out of that...kind of tea now...?" Michael struggled in vain to keep a grip on the world, restraining himself from falling over in a fruitless effort.
"Nighty night, my boy" whispered Gavin.
Michael blacked out.
Michael woke up suddenly, barely alert and feeling light-headed. He found it difficult to focus on what had happened beforehand. He tried to rub his eyes to see clearly through the groggy haze, but to his astonishment his arms were confined to the bleak wall. He struggled uselessly against the bindings, and cursed sharply upon failure. Seeking the only other option, he flicked his eyes up to glance about the room.
It was chilly and silent, drenched in darkness, save for a feeble light bulb, casting a tiny puddle of light in the room's center. the lit-up section was desolate of any sort of clue to what was going on. the floor was solid, cold and plain, reasonably a basement floor. A wooden, worn table sat sturdily in the light, bearing a slouching satchel and what appeared to be a narrow tray, lined with tools too distant to recognize (But still worried Michael) The back of the room was clouded with shadow, but a faint sound of movement could be heard.
Michael swore loudly, brawling the binds once more ineffectively. The sound in the back of the room ceased, as if the being had become alert to his consciousness. Footsteps were audible, as Michael braced to see the culprit. He was terror-stricken, but remained strong as the figure stepped into the light. Michael's built-up courage withered away in seconds and his eyes widened.
Gavin stood in the clearing, and offered a lopsided grin.
"Michoo! You're awake! Top! Now we can begin." Gav squealed in delight. The man spun around and pranced to the table, jolly and giddy as a ten year old on Christmas. Usually hearing the brit's voice brought Michael comfort and happiness, but the sinister feel brimmed him with pure fear. He poorly attempted to relax himself and looked up to meet the gaze of Gavin, who joyfully dug through the satchel which keeping an eye on the restrained man.
"Gavvy...what the fuck is this...what are you doing?! Get me out of this thing!" he yelled, on the edge of panic already.
Gavin took no interest in the question, entertained by the bag's contents. Michael tried to ignore his fellow achievement hunter, and plotted an opportunity to escape. Despite his efforts, none came to mind. The stupid prick had thought of everything.
Michael sighed, unsatisfied with his defeat. To his surprise, upon looking up on what the taller man was doing, Michael found him barely a foot away from his face, and drew back in shock. Gavin chuckled at this. While Michael dropped his gaze to Gavin's hand.
Michael's breathing grew faster and more uneven.
Gavin had a knife.
"Are you excited for this, my little Mikkey? I know I am!" Cheered the way-too-happy co-worker. Giving no empathy to the situation, Gavin swung the blade without care. The gash was spread across the jersey boy's chest, and it stung. Michael instinctively clenched his teeth, endeavoring to remain composed against the roaring surge of pain that rippled across his torso. Gavin watched, bewildered at how fast the boy's shirt had stained with crimson. Astounded by the scene, he threw the blade across his friend's frame once again, causing Michael to wince in utter distress again, unleashing a scream of desperation from his mouth. Gavin took a step back, and stared as if unamused.
"C'mon. Mikkey Wikkey, stop being a coward, we've just started! I didn't know Mogar was such a disappointment." mocked Gavino flatly, adding a yawn to exaggerate on how bored he was.
"F-fuck you, you little p-prick." snorted Michael, preserving his aggressive nature. "Now shut the hell up and TELL ME WHY THE FUCK YOU ARE DOING THIS, OR I WILL BASH YOUR FUCKING SKULL OPEN, YOU PIECE OF SHIT."
Evidently Gavin was unwavered by the empty threat; it was clear who was in control here. Gav giggled at the ignorance of the other hunter.
"Well. what do you think, you mong!" The taller man no longer seemed upbeat and cheerful. He threw the scarlet-edged knife at the table, lodging it in the structure, leaving it stuck and quivering. Michael returned to fear mode, as the pain ripping at his chest was still there, but was numbing out.
Gavin turned away from the still-bleeding man and sighed sharply. He planted both hands on the table, and fished through the sack for a scalpel.
"Michael..." Michael shuddered when Gavin had just spoke his name, especially when he didn't say it like he usually did.
"...A while ago, I realized that I was in love with you. I was too afraid to admit it to you. I was hoping you'd just feel the same way." Gavin whispered almost silently, but Michael could pick up each and every word. The confined man nodded slowly through this. He had felt feelings for Gavin too, but, unlike the brit, couldn't even admit it to himself. Preoccupied in his own emotions, Michael didn't notice Gavin's tightening grip on the scalpel.
Gavin whirled around. "Buuut Michoo! Guess what happened?" The british man looked slowly towards Michael's hand. The victim followed his gaze and noticed nothing, but the single, golden ring-
"BUT THEN, YOU GOT ENGAGED, MY BOY!" Gavin's yell broke Michael's attention to the ring, catching him off guard and making him jump a little.
"I admit I was heartbroken. I definitely couldn't confess my feelings then! You'd think someone would just move on, wouldn't you? But I couldn't! Because of Lindsay, I won't ever..." He trailed off, turning away, leaving Michael unaware of the tears streaming from his eyes.
"Gavin..." Gavin turned his head slightly, in response to the word.
"Gavino, you'll always be my boy. The...the truth is, I've always wanted to be with you instead. I love you too, buddy." Michael confessed, seemingly pained more by speaking the words than the slashes across his torso.
"No..." muttered Gavin in a low voice. " You don't. If that was the case, WHY WOULD YOU MARRY LINDSAY?!" Gavin whirled in an instant, hurling the scalpel at Michael. The blade flew briskly and lodged in Michael's shoulder. more ruby liquid sprayed from the joint, while Michael tensed from the abrupt, unanticipated agony, and cried out once more. The excruciating torment already proved too much to bear. Michael scowled at the wound, contemplating how a seemingly small injury could be so overwhelming. His breath was rapid and hurried; he had to calm himself, but that wasn't a simple ambition when your shoulder is screaming and scalding with pain.
Michael clenched his fists and brawled the wash of torturous pain. Mogar didn't give up a fight that easily. Not yet.
Gavin didn't waste a second. With haste, he brandished another blade, and moved swiftly to the uninjured shoulder, keeping the blade steadily on target.
"Tell me why, you minge." murmured the voice next to Michael, almost snarling.
Michael was quaking now. The sight of a silver blade embedded in his shoulder coated with a pool of blood that seemed to flow unceasingly horrified him. He was hesitant, but didn't wish the same fate upon his other shoulder.
"I...I couldn't...I didn't believe that I felt that way...Lind...Lindsay...I forced myself to believe I loved her more...but...I...I knew all this time I was...wrong..." Michael stuttered through the hurtful pangs. Gavin's eyes narrowed. The bright, joyful look was gone.
"What a load of BULLOCKS, Micoo." Gavin emotionlessly drove the knife's tip against the intact shoulder. Michael cringed; the feel of the blade wasn't even comparable to the crushing damage the other shoulder.
Michael tensed and prepared for the impact of the blade, now knowing of the searing hurt the injury brought forth. However, it didn't come, and Michael turned his head to the man at the other end of the blade, and for once noticed how tightly close the brit was standing to him. Gavin stared into Michael's eyes as if in strict observance.
"Gav...come on. this isn't fuckin' funny. It...really hurts...please, you can do it. You can let me go, and...and I'll stay with you, buddy. I...love you." Michael muttered, absolutely defeated.
"Too. Bloody. Late. You had months, even years, to say that!" Gavin nearly roared, driving the dagger into the flesh of the fellow hunter's forearm. Michael's entire body shook from the blow, then drooped, fully conquered, the horrendous pain tore across his senses, torturing the victim. Barely able to lift an eye open, the bloodied man watched helplessly as his would-be lover held the almost-dismembered arm. Hot blood poured across both achievement hunters. The rapid loss of the fluid rendered Michael light-headed and pale.
"So I thought it would be top...", The british man ranted on, "If you and I spent your last moments, together, right here!" he giggled, taking full notice of Michael's mercy-pleading expression.
"Gavin...how do you plan to get away with this...? Do you really think...Ray and Geoff and the others...won't notice...that I'm gone? What about the Rage Quit fans? What about Lindsay?" Gavin seemed to cringe at the sound of the name.
"Oh, don't worry, you donut. I texted Lindsay off your phone..." spoke the brit, mockingly deriding the woman's name, waving Michael's phone, "that you just went to the store to buy some gubbins. I have contact to some guys that'll make it look like they roughed you up a bit too much, and I'll be fine!" cheered Gavin.
"How'd you get...my phone password...?" Michael questioned, in spite of the pain.
"IHateGavin. Nice password, you nob." Spoke Gavin flatly. The other man shrugged. It WAS something he'd remember.
"Why would...why would you do something like this...though...?"
"It's mental what love'll do to someone." Gavin grimaced, and jerked instantly without warning at the limb, tearing it off completely. Blood flooded across the cement floor, while the overload of incomprehensible anguish took over the victimized man. Adrenaline pumped through his body in a hopeless final attempt to survive. Michael shrieked at the new abundant source of pain. Gav surveyed the surge of crimson, amazed at how much there was. His attention was short lived; Michael's consciousness was clearly diminishing.
"Oh bollocks. Don't go yet, my boy." Gavin scrambled to the table, where he tentatively placed the severed limb on the table, then rushed through the tray and searched through the tools.
"Don't fucking call me that...you aren't my boy...not anymore." Gavin perked up to these words, and it stung him hard. Clenching the needle in his hand, Gavin stumbled to his dying crush, still torn by the words.
"No..."
"NO."
Gavin refused to accept that Michael had abandoned his love. He thrust the needle into Michael's (relatively) intact shoulder, and the mortally wounded hunter spurred back to life. Gavin raised a cleaver obtained from the tray, and lifted it triumphantly, enjoying Michael's desperate whimper.
The young brit seemed to seethe with nothing but anger at this point, and was anything but merciful. Michael's own blood was splattered across Gavin's face. His stupid grin that Michael had always loved was contorted and twisted.
"You'll always be mine, whether you like it..." Gavin announced loudly, bringing the cleaver down on Michael's chest, unleashing another huge splash of scarlet in spite of the numb, dying friend already brutally stormed with fatal pain.
"...or not." the sharpened cleaver broke way through Michael's ribs, terminating any hope of recovery, if there was any. Time slowed and slurred, while the red-haired man watched despairingly at the wave of red released around the cleaver. The darkness was back, and no amount of adrenaline needles could stop it now.
"I...I..lo...oo...g...ga...v..." stuttered what was left of Michael, choking on the blood that intruded his mouth.
Gavin leaned towards his lover. He ripped the cleaver that delivered the final lethal blow out of Michael's flesh, then stretched his arms around his neck. Gavin and Michael slowly met lips, and Gavin took in the entire moment that he found magical, despite the savage, non-survivable state the other individual was in. Michael Jones of Team Nice Dynamite faded away.
"I love you too, Micoo. I love you too."