Pt. 2: The Night's Not Over Yet
Summary: Steffan returns home to find that the night is still young and got more, if unpleasant, surprises in store for him
Implied slash
Disclaimer: You know it, I know it… Masque of the Red Death and any character from that piece of art do not belong to me
He'd taken a shower, trying really hard to wash it all off - the whole evening, but when he got out of the shower and he'd got dressed again, he still felt filthy. He couldn't get it off.
Drying his long hair, Steffan stared at his reflection in the mirror, at a face that seemed more like the one of a stranger than his own. The usually so bright and lively eyes was now red rimmed from tears that had been shed and full of hurt, his lips were bruised from the man's not so gentle kisses and slightly quivering. His face was pale and gloomy.
He left the small quarters and, hands in the pocket of his coat and downcast eyes, he began the slow walk home. At the same time as his mind was completely blank, there was endless questions running through his mind, the foremost being the one of 'Why did mother do this to me?'.
He'd always thought of her as a, if sometime's absent, loving person, but now his whole perception on her had changed. Now she was a stranger to him and he wondered if this was how she'd always been. An opportunist that was willing to do just about anything to achieve her goals.
Even using her son as a mean to an end.
Arriving at the door of the apartment where he lived with his mother, he stood staring at the door undecided. If he went inside he would have to face her, sooner or later, and he wasn't sure that he could do that. Not after what he'd been put through. But he had nowhere else to go, so what choice did he have?
He stepped inside. It was quiet and he let out his breath. His mother wasn't there, she'd probably gone to bed already.
Steffan made for his bedroom when a sound had him halting. Voices, two of them, a male and a female. The female's voice he knew as his mother's, but he didn't recognize the male. May be because of the recent experience, but he didn't feel good about this.
His mother came into the room and smiled at the sight of her son.
"Steffan!" she exclaimed happily. "You're home. That's so good." The tone of her voice only made him feel more uneasy. "There's someone I want you to meet."
His eyes were drawn to the man that had followed his mother from the adjoining room, and he felt his entire body tensing.
"No," he said. He turned and continued walking toward his bedroom.
"Not so fast," the male said. He'd crossed the room and grabbed the younger man by the wrist turning him forcefully around. "I will get what I paid for," he said his face next to Steffan's.
"Out of business," Steffan said, yanking his arm away from the man. "Go somewhere else."
The man was evidently not happy with that response and hit Steffan hard over the face sending him off balance and onto the floor. Leaning on his elbow Steffan pushed away a few strands of the hair from his face and he looked toward his mother. She had been standing watching it all, not moving a finger to do something, anything, when the male had struck her son. Now she was watching him, meeting his gaze, with a disapproving look on her face. She clearly thought that he was misbehaving.
The man grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to his feet, and while he was being dragged to the bedroom by this stranger Steffan looked at his mother giving her an accusing look that was completely lost on her.