Author's note:
This is an idea that I couldn't get out of my head anymore. Have fun reading and please tell me what you think.
Bodyguard
The high ping tells me the elevator arrived. I wait for the doors to open with a humming sound and just like trained my eyes scan the empty hallway. There's no place to hide. The green plants are barely big enough to hide a rabbit. This is a place I haven't been to before but he picked it carefully as always.
Burying my hands into the pockets of my jacket I walk past many doors, decorated only with the number that serves as the name of the room behind them.
It's the last door I'm aiming for. There's no mistake. His message was very clear.
My bullets.
Your bullets.
The day we part.
The door with the number 5110 is not locked as expected and I step inside with a last glance behind me. There's still no one there in the empty hallway, but you can never be sure enough.
The revolver is greeting me. Polished and glistening in the dim lamplight. I wonder what he's doing with it to make it shine like that. The barrel follows me as I unbutton my jacket and throw it over a nearby chair. It follows me while I stretch, making my Glock dangle in its leather holster.
It's our little game. We play it every time.
"You're late."
His voice is quiet and lazy. A glance at him and how he sits in his chair - sloppy, legs crossed, without jacket, blinding white shirt open - tells me he already had a drink or two or many. He looks relaxed and still the revolver follows me as I step up to him, crossing my arms, towering over him.
"Unlike other people I have to work sometimes."
I smirk and so does he. With a dull little thud the revolver is put on the table at his side.
"If you'd work for me, we both would never be late."
It's an offer he makes every time but all I do is rolling my eyes annoyed. He knows I'll never agree. I know he'll never stop trying.
"I'm my brother's bodyguard and I will be until one of us dies."
"Hm" is all the responds, letting his hands wander over my trouser legs and hips.
It's a ritual.
Both. The rejection and him searching for hidden weapons. As close as I am to him it would be easy to shoot a bullet through his thick skull. Maybe I'll have to do it one day, but today is not the day.
My fingers run through his silky locks, searching for the little scar I gave him so many years ago. When we've still been stupid kids, fighting each other half out of fun, half out of unknown feelings, not knowing which families we belonged to.
Now we know where we belong.
His hands pull me closer and the last time was too long ago to struggle. No teasing today. Not much at least.
Warm breath is seeping through my shirt. It gives me goosebumps and I pull his head to my chest. I can't wait to feel his lips on my skin. I never say it loud, but he knows me, just like I know him.
His big hands pull my shirt from my trousers. It would be easier without the holster around my shoulders. He doesn't seem to mind. It's a challenge for him and I just shake my head.
What a big child.
A sigh leaves my lips once he finally touches my bare skin. As always his fingers are cool. I don't know why but I like it. I allow him to warm his skin on mine.
It doesn't take long until he has enough. With his teeth he opens the buttons of my shirt and I curse him in silence for ruining my work clothes. If I wouldn't know it is worth some ripped buttons, I'd pull him back on his soft hair. But every moment of this is worth a stupid button and still I yank on his locks a little.
He growls. His eyes like clear amethysts glare at me with fire and I glare back, a broad grin on my face. It's not a second later that our mouths collide with force. It almost hurts but damn it feels good.
His tongue tries to invade me, but I don't let it. Instead I pull him back and conquer him instead. His mouth is hot. He tastes sweet and the alcohol burns just a little. It's something you can get addicted to.
I know I am.
We kiss for a while. Just kiss but with passion. It's been too long since we've been together. It feels as if we need to be reminded of how the other works. Why we're here once again. Why in secret.
If his family knew about us…
If my brother knew about us…
We'd both be lost.
He, the gangster with the ice cold eyes.
I, the only protector my brother has left.
No one would follow him anymore.
No one would trust me anymore.
It's a big risk. And still we're here once again, leaving marks on pale skin, satisfying the hunger for each other's lips until there other needs rise. I can feel the bulge pressing against my leg already.
Intoxicated by his breath I let him rip the fabric from me until there's nothing left. In return my fingertips slip down to his neck, untangling the bandages he never takes off.
I unwrap them. I am the only one allowed.
The scars underneath are sensitive. Leaning down I run my tongue over them, receiving a shaky moan in return. It never fails to make him surrender and give me a moment to win back some control.
With a last kiss I pull him from his chair. The bedroom isn't far. It doesn't matter that the bed is too small, the mattress too soft, the springs digging into our skin.
It doesn't matter and we don't care.
All that matters are his hands roaming over my body, his lips demanding attention, his nails leaving marks on me. I give him everything back he gives me. We don't fight against each other. We fight together, moan together. Again and again. Until every ghost in this room knows our names by heart.
In the end my voice is hoarse and so is his.
My body feels numb, covered in countless love bites. I give up counting mine and count his instead, resting in his arms, sweaty but satisfied.
"You've two more. I've won this time."
"Hm… fine." A tired smirk crosses his lips. Even if he would want to, he can't go on. He surrenders and I give him kisses as reward.
It's the only time – afterwards, exhausted, stripped down to nothing but our deepest core – that I feel a real peace of mind. Like this I'm able to forget for a while that we aren't allowed to be together, that we are enemies.
The business is hard. He has to lead his family as oldest son of the oldest son. An honor I gave up in favor of my little brother. Unlike him and my brother I wasn't made to lead for long.
Damn white skin.
Damn red eyes.
The slow death that comes with both showed its face not long ago, eating on my skin.
It's a curse.
And a blessing.
Like this I can be with the man in my arms. Like this I can spend the few years I have left with him.
If we stood against each other, leading and protecting our families, it wouldn't be possible.
So I am thankful, protecting my brother from his killers and him from ours.
He doesn't know about it and it is good like that.
He doesn't need to know I took the promise from my brother to be the only one allowed to kill him.
One day I will have to do it, but today is not the day.
"I have to go."
It's like a slap in the face. We've always spend the night together. Afterwards. We've always made sure there is time.
"Why?"
I lift my head to look at him but his eyes are closed.
"There are things to do."
We never talk about business but this makes me angry. I sit up and hiss. My ass hurts. It's his fault and now he wants to leave. I'm disappointed.
His big hand around my wrist is warm. It is my warmth that still lingers in his skin. But not for long if he leaves.
"I'm sorry."
There is regret in his voice. It's real regret and I sigh.
"I couldn't wait any longer to see you..."
I turn back to meet his amethyst eyes, looking up to me with that expression.
I know what that glance means. He knows that I do. We never say it loud.
"Next time you'll take the night off."
He promises it with a kiss and the magic is gone.
Our clothes are messed up. I miss some buttons. He picks them up to give them into my hand, a sheepish smile on his lips. I should scold him, but I don't feel like it.
I feel like asking him to stay, but I know I can't do that. He'd never agree. I never asked before.
He buttons his shirt and picks his revolver from the table. A quick glance inside the bullet chambers and a smile when he sees that one chamber is empty. It's always empty.
I mentioned it once. He said it's like reversed Russian roulette. One guy he'll shoot will be lucky. He's weird sometimes.
His revolver goes into the holster, the jacket follows, the shoes, the scarf. From one moment to the other he's a professional again. A criminal. A gangster. With ice cold eyes. No one will guess what he did just minutes ago.
What we did.
Once we step out of this room we're enemies again.
My arms wrap around his stomach and I press my body against his back. It's not like me to be sentimental, but I need him just a moment longer. He allows my embrace. His heartbeat calms under my ear. With it I calm as well and I forgive him for leaving.
"Don't let me wait this long again."
I'm not sure if he understands me, buried in his broad back. But he takes my hand and he kisses my knuckles. I assume it's his answer.
Then we kiss again. A last time. He's careful and tender and so am I.
My lips are still warm, taste like him, as I walk down the stairs. I feel like moving, not waiting for the elevator. I'm hyper. I know I should be exhausted or at least a little tired, but my blood is full of adrenalin. It hasn't accepted yet that the evening is over before it really started. It expected so much more.
I hoped for more.
Out of the door my fingers fish for the cheap cigarettes in my jacket, almost on their own. I've been told not to smoke but I don't care. It doesn't matter anyway. One thing will kill me in the end for sure – a bullet, the tar or the cancer.
Through the flame of my lighter and the smoke rising up I see a girl smile at me. Her hair is black and straight and shines in the cheap neon light of the streetlamp. She passes me before I can look up, but I notice her too short skirt and her too long stockings, vanishing in the building behind me. Someone probably called for the special massage. For a long moment I think about following her and beating the shit out of the guy who ordered a child. Just to let off steam, to do something righteous. But all I do is walking around a corner, smoking my cigarette.
That's not my business. It's hers and her money.
Leaning against the cold wall I hide myself in the shadows. I want to see him once more. Just watch him the moment he leaves. It will be the last opportunity for a long time and I miss him already.
But he doesn't come.
A second cigarette finds the way to my lips the same moment two men walk by on the street. Their coats are expensive and they bulge at just the wrong places. Guns. That thought runs through my head like hot iron but it's not until I hear them say '6-1-1-0' that my heart skips a beat.
My bullets.
Your bullets.
The day we part.
They made a mistake. He has only five bullets in his revolver.
The men take the elevator. I take the stairs. My view is so blurred I can barely see the screen of my phone. I have to warn him, but I don't know how. I don't dare to call. Any move could be wrong. Any noise could give him away.
My lungs and legs burn. It's not far anymore. I already see the door when a shot explodes behind it. And another. For a moment I stand still.
"No… no no no no!"
My steps echo from the naked walls. I don't care for the noise anymore. All I can think of is him and I rip the door open, staring into a gun's barrel.
There's a click and then there is nothing.
No pain. No shot. No bullet.
Just he, staring at me terrified, like I probably stare at him.
"Gilbert."
I see the girl lying in the hallway behind him. Her hair is black and straight and shines with blood. Her hand still holds the small gun and for an insane moment I wonder where she hid it before.
Her hand is delicate, but his is big. He grabs mine without another word and we fly down the stairs together. More than once I almost lose my balance. More than once he almost slips. We could break our necks and it would be over, but we make it somehow. Hand in hand.
A quick glance in the hallway. We both know the drill and it's a matter of minutes and seconds to get out alive.
"Two, sixth floor."
He just nods understanding, rushing to the elevator to cover my back. I trust him to make sure no one's coming down one way or another. Not until we left at least.
It's always a big risk to stick your head out into a possible line of shooting, but I have no choice. We're trapped between the killers upstairs and whoever may wait outside. The night is dark and the neon light tricky. It makes things cast long shadows. Perfect to hide in. But I can spot no one.
There had been three killers already; the girl is dead and the others very likely alarmed by the noise. I have to decide before they come down to poison us with iron. It's a risky move, but I whistle short and sharp. It's hopefully too quick to be noticed outside.
He looks up and spins around. I take the lead out of the door and into the night.
Shadows everywhere. Almost no cover.
I feel my heart racing, pumping blood into my head. It hurts so much my vision blurs, but it doesn't stop me. I secure the spot behind the little concrete wall. It barely hides me. Damn. It won't hide him. There's barely any space left and he's half a head taller than me.
A noise behind me makes me turn.
All I see is him. Open coat flying behind him like wings as he tackles me and throws me to the ground.
There is a second that feels like eternity. The world around us stops and his face is so close to mine.
His lips are curled to a little smile, but his eyes glisten with something I can't sort. I'm not sure I ever saw this expression before. It gives me a sting deep down.
But then the world turns again and we hit the ground together. He's heavy, pressing the air out of my lungs. Something hits the back of my head. Something digs into my back. There's no time to feel the pain.
Cursing I push him off me, getting up on my knees again to look for the killers. A shadow moves close by. I can only see it at the edge of my face, but without a second thought I shoot. The guy cries out and falls back. His rifle rattles on the pavement.
I made the right decision. Now we just have to leave. My muscles tense up, ready to press me forward. It's the moment I notice I'm the only one standing.
My heart stops beating.
"Ivan!"
I'm at his side, pulling him up and into my arms. It makes him groan and the red stain glisten, swelling with blood. It's everywhere. Everything is red.
My head is spinning. My mind works at full speed. I know he hadn't bled the moment he pushed me down. It can only mean one thing.
"You asshole!"
There's no time for accusations. They could come for us any second.
"You damn asshole!"
But I know he can't get up and I can't carry him.
"Why did you do that?! You are the boss! I am the damn bodyguard!"
Blood sips through my fingers. I try to stop the bleeding, press my hand on the hole in his chest but all I feel is the life flowing out of him. He coughs. He laughs, hoarse and rough. I want to slap him so bad.
"You should have taken my offer…"
His smile looks painful. I want to shake him to make it stop.
"… then I would have let you… guard me."
"Asshole! You goddamned idiot asshole!"
I don't feel the tears coming; don't hear the sirens in the distance. I just feel him tremble in my embrace; hear him breathe so heavily.
"Stay with me!"
I've never asked this of him in the past. I knew he'd never agree.
"I love you, Ivan!"
I never said those three words before. Now they come endlessly.
"Don't you dare to leave me!"
I fear I'll never be able to say them again.
"I love you!"
And I can't stop anymore, while all he does is smile and breathe and cling to life for me.
"Gil… I love you too…"