61. "You're my best friend's boyfriend/girlfriend-I can't do this to him/her."
You had said no.
That doesn't matter, it happened.
Eduard won't blame you.
Eduard has every right to do so anyways.
Toris was sitting on the bathroom floor, draped over the toilet. Whatever had been in his body was gone, expelled along with every emotion other than regret. Toris couldn't recall a time he had ever felt so miserable, so disgusting.
"Toris, are you like, done in there?" Came Felik's voice. Toris closed his eyes and willed the Pole away. He wanted him out of his life, out of his mind. He longed to be in his own bed, wearing clothes, rather than sitting naked on a cold ground.
"Quit being such a cry baby." Feliks said outside of the door, as if he had some sort of regard for privacy. What a joke, Toris thought. From the moment he had met the blond privacy could only be acquired when Eduard fought for it, and even though, Felik almost always always found a way to get what he wanted.
"You fucking came Toris, don't pretend like you didn't like it." Feliks hissed through the door, and it was true. God, he couldn't believe how his body had betrayed him. He could say it was all in an effort to try and make it bearable, since Feliks did nothing to make sure Toris enjoyed himself, but in the end, that didn't matter to the Lithuanian. What mattered was it had happened, and he felt utterly dirty.
"Take me home, Feliks." Toris begged. He just wanted to go home. He wanted his Eduard, he wanted him to wrap his arms around him and tell him that he was okay, that it had been along day, and to come to bed. He wanted out of this house, away from the man who was supposed to be his friend.
"I guess it would be too much to ask you to do your damn job and clean up after this, huh?" Feliks muttered as Toris finally pulled himself off the floor. His legs shook out of fear and pain, he couldn't believe how much it had hurt. It had never hurt with Eduard. He was gentle and careful. Feliks was neither of those things.
He had no clothes in the bathroom. He had ran in the room immediately after the other had finally pulled out of him. He couldn't remember how he had had enough control over his body to get in the bathroom, but not enough to try and get himself out. He felt pathetic.
When he stumbled out of the room, his clothes were tossed into his arms. Feliks had dressed himself, casually. He was unapologetic for what he had just done. He didn't even seem to think he had done anything wrong, the only hint of remorse being that he was willing to take Toris back to his house.
"You look awful, don't like, be so upset about it." Feliks said, trying to shrug it off as nothing. Toris stared at him with blank eyes. How was he not supposed to be upset?
"Don't be upset? You r-"
"Don't you dare use that word." Feliks yelled, swiftly having moved to hit Toris, but stopped when the brunette had caught himself in time. Toris's green eyes were aflame.
"I didn't rape you, you liked it. Don't try and tell me or anyone that you didn't I watched you." Feliks' voice was low and deadly, a threat that Toris would not soon forget. Toris knew better than to tell anyone the things that happened behind walls that weren't his own. His disgust had to end here. If he carried it with him, someone would find out, and surely Toris would pay.
Feliks let go of Toris lightly, before trying to apologize for being rough. He was more apologetic about almost having hit him than having actually raped him. It was amazing, how inconsistent the man could be.
"Put your clothes on, and like, comb your hair." He said, gently rubbing Toris's shoulder. The touch was unwelcomed, the Polish man's hand felt like sandpaper, like his words, like his actions. Everything Feliks did ended up grinding Toris more, and soon there would be nothing left but a polished, obedient doll. Toris would be nothing more than everyone's plaything.
Toris pulled on his pants. He looked at the bed, that was still covered in his own betrayal. Semen and sweat and tears smelled like deceit, he decided.
The shirt came on and hid away bite and claw marks, stains on his skin that had made him cry at each forced mark. He ran a hand through his hair. It felt greasy. He longed for a shower, to get rid of these nasty feelings. As soon as he got home he could get one. He was so close to home. He was so close to forgetting about it all.
"Are you like, ready yet?" Feliks asked. His shoes, where were they?
"Shoes…" Toris said, looking around for them on the ground.
"You left them by the door, you actually did come over, you know." Feliks responded, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. Right, he had came over. He had came to see his only friend, or who he had thought was his only friend. He couldn't remember how it had ended up this way though.
"Okay…" Toris said, and walked out of the bedroom. The movement reminded his stomach how vile he felt, and he could feel himself begin to gag at the sight of sunlight and the smell of coffee. He had been there all night. Eduard must be worried sick.
"Do you want coffee?" Feliks offered. Things felt all too normal. It was almost comforting. He didn't want to see himself taking a ride from the monster that broke him, but rather, a friend. Feliks was his friend.
"No." Toris responded, pulling his shoes on. His lower back ached when he bent over, and he had to hold back the groan that almost fell from his lips. Feliks shrugged, before walking towards the door, opening it. The world wasn't falling apart. That was strange.
"If you're like, worried about Eduard finding out, you don't need to. Told him you got drunk and crashed." Feliks explained.
"How thoughtful." Toris had wanted to sound sarcastic, but it ended up coming out as nothing, a simple statement. As if he truly meant it. Even now, his words were betraying him. How marvelous.
"It helps that you look miserable." Feliks mumbled under his breath, but Toris heard it. He wondered if he looked drunk, or hungover. He had never been that bad before with alcohol, but after tonight, maybe he could start.
The ride home was silent. An uncomfortable silence that Feliks thankfully broke by turning on the radio. The song played a tune that Toris didn't understand, didn't want to understand. Polish sounded like a clashing orchestra, whether it's reporting the news, singing a song, or attempting to whisper how bady you wanted it.
Toris wished he had never learned Polish.
When they pulled into his driveway, his front door was open, as if awaiting his return. He could imagine the front porch light having been on all night. Eduard, he could be such a worrier, waiting up in his navy robe, listening carefully for the sound of an engine or footsteps walking up the stairs. His poor Eduard, now thinking all that worry had been for nothing.
Feliks wouldn't go in, Toris knew that. Feliks probably felt a bit guilty, but not enough to ever come clean. He had only did what he wanted, that wasn't a crime, in his Polish eyes anyways.
"I'll never forgive myself." Toris said, staring at the open door that welcomed him home. Feliks opened his mouth to speak, as if he could offer some sort of advice, but eventually signed and just said what he needed to say.
"Don't tell Eduard what happened." He said, before unlocking his doors.
"Your hands aren't clean of this, Toris. You liked it, you wanted it." Feliks repeated. And God forbid Toris think otherwise. It was a good thing he was so easily pushed around, so easily threatened.
Toris got out of the car without responding, before stumbling towards his home.
How can you live with yourself?
Toris had no idea.