Takes place in-between the planning and murder, but at no particular time. Rating for sexually implied scenes and strong language.
Sitting by the fireplace, the heat from the burning fire almost hurting his back, Justin stared straight ahead.
Off to the left, Richard lay casually sprawled out on the bed, fast asleep under the thin blankets.
Justin ignored the heat angrily caressing his bare back and his eyes filled with tears, ashamed of what he had just done.
It won't hurt... How do you know?... Trust me.
Trust him? Richard? Richard Heywood? Sure. Might as well cover yourself in honey and dance around an anthill, expecting to not get bitten.
Tears welled up in the boy's eyes, began to fall down his face, but he didn't move to brush them away. He deserved to cry, after what he'd done with Richard. It served him right.
The sleeping boy stirred on the bed, rolling over, dangerously close to falling off the bed and onto the hard wooden floor.
Justin dared to look over at him; the dead moon's light helping to give him an appealing look, his naked body covered only by the thin sheet draped over his lower half.
I gave in to that? I can see why, but-
Fresh tears formed and he pulled his eyes away, staring instead out a broken window, watching the star-kissed ocean gently thrash in the midnight winds.
A few minutes passed and Justin's tears dried on his sad face. He tried to convince himself he had done no wrong, but he couldn't shake the guilt and fear - and hate - out of the pit of his stomach.
He stood, pulling the sheet that had fallen to his waist back up around him, then took a tentative step towards the bed, but then changed his mind, heading for the couch.
As he sat down, it squeaked, startling the sleeping boy.
Richard jolted, half-awake, and promptly fell off the bed, letting out a small cry.
Justin was somewhat furious and quite upset, and let out a harsh, cruel laugh, letting his emotions show.
"What the fu-"
"What's the matter, Richard? Something in your perfect life go wrong?" Justin snapped, not realizing it at first.
"What?" Richard pulled himself up on the bed, the blanket still hanging around his lean legs. He rubbed his head gently, looking around, remembering. He turned his attention to Justin. "What'd you say?"
"Nothing," he whispered, eyes falling, his courage gone. Turning his head from the other boy, he pulled the blanket tight to himself, closing his eyes against tears that he knew were inevitable.
A sigh from Richard. "What's the matter?" He asked as if he didn't really care. Justin knew Richard had rolled his eyes.
Justin hugged the blanket to his half-naked body. Let him see me cry. I don't care. Let him see what he's reduced me to. Let the all-powerful Richard see what he's made me do. Screw him. I don't need him.
Waiting for a response, Richard grabbed his jeans off the floor and struggled into them, dropping the blanket on the bed. Walking over to Justin, he put and a hand under his chin and forced him to look at him. "Something wrong?" he asked with a half-smile on his face.
"Screw you," Justin spat out, pulling his face away.
Richard grabbed him again, harder this time, pressing their faces together, forcing Justin into a painful kiss. Grinning as he pulled away, Richard asked, "Didn't we already do that?"
Justin knocked Richard's hand away, standing and shoving him back against a wall between the bed and fireplace."Fuck you! I don't need you!" he screamed, kicking the fallen blanket aside. "Can't you see what you're doing to me?"
Richard stepped towards Justin, expecting his influence to help him gain control of the boy."There's nothing wrong with you. Just a little post-sex thinking, that's all. You're very emotional right now. It happens to everyone." A cocky grin, then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Lighting up, he tossed the pack on the table and inhaled, casually blowing the smoke out the side of his mouth. "Don't be such a pussy."
Justin couldn't help it anymore. Nothing wrong with him? Post-sex worries? Who the fuck did Richard think he was? He sure wasn't a god, that was for damn sure. Because if you hit a god, something would happen to you.
And nothing happened to Justin when he lunged forward, his fist making heavy contact with Richard's jaw, knocking the cigarette to the floor, certainly the least of Richard's worries.
"What the fuck did you do that for?" he screamed, dropping to his knees and clutching his face with his hands, blood carelessly dripping out of his mouth, his beautiful lip split. "What is wrong with you?"
"What is wrong with me?" Justin was stunned. Not only had he just hit who was probably the best friend he'd ever had, but he was also being asked what was wrong with him. "What's wrong with you?"
"What the fuck do you mean? You're the one that hit me! Son of a bitch," Richard muttered, climbing to his feet, gingerly touching his split flesh.
"You're the one who-" Justin stopped himself. What was he saying? And what exactly was his plan of attack here? He had nothing on Richard. Or did he? "You fucking fag."
"Me? I'm a fag?" If Richard was surprised by this outburst, he didn't show it. "I wouldn't talk. You are very easily seduced, you know. I'd love to get you drunk one night."
Justin watched Richard rub his jaw, wiping the blood off on the discarded blanket.
"I'm not gay..." Justin replied quietly, lowering himself back into the chair, that feeling of guilt filling him up again.
"Me neither. I just like a good fuck now and then."
Justin rested an arm on the table, flexing and unflexing his fingers, the ones that had cruelly injured Richard. "I'm sorry..."
"Damn well should be. I think my tooth is loose," Richard mumbled, caring only about himself.
Justin tried to hide the tears as they threatened to slide down his face again.
"But don't worry about it! I'll be fine, you'll be fine, we'll both be fine. Right?" Richard flashed a toothy grin, then went and stood beside his friend - if he had the right to call him that. "You'll be okay. Just stop worrying."
Justin knew he was right. Richard was always right. Right? Of course... He was Richard - rich boy, smart-ass, total fucker, and one-night stand extraordinaire.
But there was this nagging doubt somewhere in Justin that he kept trying to if Richard was wrong? What if he shouldn't have done that?Battling hot tears, he slumped over on the table.
"Justin, Justin..." Richard's voice came softly into his ear and a hand touched his exposed neck. "You know you'll be fine. For me. You know you have to. Because I have what you want." At this point, his words sounded more like rambling, almost like someone who was drunk. "I have what you want, and I'll give it to you - if you cooperate."
Justin buried his face in his hands and began to cry.