AN:

o(^ O ^ ) o Thanks for reading this far! o ( ^ O ^)o

NaNoWriMo is almost finished, so I'll be updating much quicker once November is over!

Hell Produces Thy Fury

Robert waited on a phone call, a text message, some form of communication from another person. Edging towards sending a reminder text and whether doing such a thing would only read as desperate, froze any assertive action. Then he remembered he had nothing like that for Bryan. Oh. Well this would be rectified soon. The clock represented half nine, and Robert should have left his condo by now. Another dozen or so messages sent to others to keep his mind occupied. By ten o'clock, Robert assumed public transport wasn't fairing too well, so he reasoned another half-hour wouldn't cut too much into his night. Then he realised he was just stalling and Bryan merely a petty excuse.

Away to the club then. Parking too near any establishment that served any quantity of alcohol put the valuable vehicle in harm's way. Best leave it a short walk away just in case, Robert had no intention on being stranded anywhere in the middle of the night. The drive was quick, with no chatter on the radio or much noise from the convertible itself. Robert sighed as he stepped out, looking at the stainless steel sign which was probably just as cold as the nipping air tonight. A glance to the bouncer allowed him to skip the grumbling and chilled queue. A smile allowed him inside the club without need to pay or to have the rubber marking stamped onto his hand.

Robert found the main area gimmicky with neon and glow-in-the-dark booths and the occasional circular light on the floor to help with being able to see in the dark atmosphere. Overhead, the empty space - also known as the dance floor, - laser lights and numerous speakers kept the part-goers entertained. Robert admitted he'd probably be able to find other 'mood enhancers' here. Disturbing how easy it would be, if Robert was so inclined. Robert wasn't too keen on the electronicore beats of the current music fad and headed towards the lounge which gave more privacy and had a chance in hearing the words spoken from another person. The VIP section was up a small flight of stairs, yet another bouncer stood by this door. Robert was sick of this place already.

He shouldn't have bothered, in all honesty. A more private bar with glass walls looking down to the seas of people moving with numerous booths. Robert tried to force a smile onto his face when he met a previous fling, one which refused to accept Robert's current lack of commitment. The young man in question was easy to read, with an expressive face and dark complexion. Robert felt the hand on his arm before the breath against his cheek.

"You didn't call me," he said as he leaned close. The pout was fake, Robert was sure of it. Drystan had at one point checked off everything that Robert looked for. The predictive manners and behaviours, the ability to keep the man happy was in correlation with how much fun he was having. Nothing straining, nothing serious, nothing that couldn't be fixed with lavishing him with money and expensive outings or gifts.

"I didn't." Robert smiled and glanced over to the bar, hoping to see the regulars who would at least provide some conversation. Some new people were spread around, keeping to themselves. He wasn't sure on a few of them - one of them had the same hair as Bryan. Oh. Wait. Back to Drystan, who at one point in time had Robert demanding his attention. It had been the eyes to begin with. Robert didn't want to sound - no, wait - Drystan was a one-trick pony. Not much fun after a few goes.

"You're a dick." Drystan pushed him a little, and Robert was certain this was all - like every other scenario in his life - a play. Acting, lying it didn't make much of a difference. Drystan was pretending to be put out, upset. Robert wondered if the guy even remembered his name. A bitter thought slithered into his head: Drystan might just remember his money. Did it matter? No.

"Is this where I'm suppose to apologise?" Robert grinned at the expression and pecked at the side of his mouth. For a second, Robert had the urge to push away and leave. He could do this another time. Another day. The pout disappeared.

"Hmm." Not genuine, Robert calculated that even the smile now on his face was false. Best not think of those things. If Drystan was using him then Robert should be able to use him. Robert didn't bother to reject any advances, only when Robert grew bored of having to converse or found Drystan's scratchy hands, did he spare another few looks around the room. The silver hair caught his attention again. Robert ignored it quite pleased to stop thinking for a few minutes as Drystan kept him otherwise engaged.

"What? What is it?" Drystan's hands were still on him, grip possessive. Then Robert's attention was back for a minute or so - a blur of kisses and quiet, casual, conversation. The silver haired guy turned to snarl at someone who clearly wasn't making his intention subtle. Robert wasn't aware he was staring until Drystan hissed back, "Who is it?" Drystan gave him a pointed look, Robert ignored the bundle of nerves that twitched with guilt. That . . . wasn't fake. Drystan tasted like one of those fruity, too-sweet for Robert's liking, drinks. Another glance over. The silver haired guy, his leg was tapping, as if nervous, or on a nerve.

"One moment," Robert gave a kiss to the top of the other's head. He was sure, that was Bryan. The scolded blond left with a sour look on his face and slid away. Bryan wasn't going home with him. Good. Last Robert had heard, he had an STD. Robert wouldn't let anyone go home with him. Robert didn't sit down just yet just hung around the edge of the bar and smiled when he realised that yes, it was. It was Bryan.

He looked lethargic but content as he nursed what seemed like the first drink of the night. Bryan's eyes were still sharp, alert. The clothes weren't really the highest quality - Robert considered they were from a thrift shop. Nothing hideous but certainly not high end retail. It showed, but regardless, Bryan was here. What a pleasant surprise. Odd but Robert grinned, a real one this time, and spoke.

"I didn't think you'd accept my invitation." He wanted Bryan to be elated, shocked, embarrassed. Something to let Robert know if Bryan had accepted the invitation willingly or if this was just a fluke. But what Robert was expecting was the opposite of what he wanted. Bryan wasn't going to flail around like some star-struck teenager. He was going to look blank. He always did.

"I didn't." Bryan replied and sipped at what could be vodka on the rocks - the ice however was almost completely melted. How long had he been here for? Did he come with someone? Robert wasn't sure he could handle that silly deadpan face for much longer; never mind that, Robert wanted Bryan to look in his general direction. Was that too much to ask? Another trait added: rude.

"Out of all the clubs, pubs and bars you could pick? That's some coincidence, don't you agree? " Just admit it. Robert didn't believe this could be anything other than Bryan accepting his night out. Admit it, Bryan.

"More like, bad luck."

"Ouch." If Bryan had said the words with any indication of annoyance, Robert was sure he would have left him. He wasn't obsessed and he certainly refused to think he came across as creepily persistent. The smirk told him it was okay to sit down for a chat. Just for a few minutes of course. Robert had reporters to rile and a father to embarrass. "I'll buy you a drink."

A glance his way. "No."

"You really do keep the score on everything, don't you?" Robert was piecing together the ideology of Bryan's. Did a drink and loaning a car really count the same in Bryan's world? If it did, then the rejection wasn't nearly as revolutionary as Robert hoped. Did the blond offer a drink too? Wait - was the blond only rejected on that precedence? He didn't like this thought at all.

"You really do ask too many questions." Another sip, but no eye contact. Bryan kept glancing to his left, looking down to the other people dancing. Was he waiting for someone?

"I just can't win with you can I? What if you buy me a drink, are we even then?" If Bryan was even, the perhaps Robert could befriend him. Father didn't like him at all; all the more reason.

"Once we're even; I'm gone."

"Oh, well, please refrain from buying me anything." Robert held back a laugh when finally Bryan frowned at him with a tilted head. Acting as if Robert was the strange one wasn't expected. For the most part Bryan sipped his drink and ignored even the bartender's words. Robert admitted it. He felt superior since he'd now lasted much longer than the previous. Competition was always fun, regardless of setting. "You targeted Edwin, didn't you? No one else had anything stolen. Then all of a sudden he's nearing financial ruin."

Bryan rubbed the bridge of his nose with a frown in place, oh, seemed to have poked a sore spot. "What do you want to shut up about that?"

"Just the slightest bit of your attention. Your phone number for instance," Then Bryan might be convinced to come back over, to the castle, the condo. Anywhere, so long as he could say it to his father. Best friends with a pickpocket! Oh, yes, do agree Bryan. Robert wasn't even sure he had ever wanted a phone number so much before. "It's my prerogative to keep asking, you can simply sidestep whichever question you want. You do it rather brilliantly anyway."

"So, we're even." Bryan's earlier words made Robert rethink on whether this was a good idea or not. "But I'm deleting you once you piss me off." Bryan handed over his - goodness, how old was this - phone and Robert typed them into his own. The model must be very old, lacking in colours: old phone that simply took a text message and a phone call. Robert forgot they even existed. They couldn't possibly still be manufacturing those, surely not.

"How compassionate of you," Robert smiled to himself, the competition won. He wanted to find that diseased blond and show him how it's done. Robert could even get Bryan's number. Ha.

"I can crash at your place, right?" Oh. Robert nodded, though now the idea of Bryan handing over his contact details did seem strange. Never before had he even indicated he was interested in anything other than a car or shutting Robert up. Hmm. It was entirely possible, Bryan was the one who'd caught him.

"Of course," Robert smiled as he handed back the ancient technology and pocketed his own.

But now, Bryan's attention was gone, given to someone below - in that mass of people - Robert wanted to force Bryan to look at him. He never liked being ignored. "I'll be back later, text me if you're thinkin' of leaving." His eyes were on someone, narrowed and enraged. Robert decided not to ask anything.

"Here, I suggest you don't drink anymore tonight." Robert gave away the possession of his yet again. Maybe he'd steal it this time? Bryan disappeared after that, leaving the VIP area altogether. Maybe an ex? Maybe he'd noticed a boyfriend cheating? Maybe he had falling out? Robert sighed to himself as Bryan mingled into the crowd and left Robert's view. "Another time, Bryan." Robert sighed. Well, that wasn't as smooth or as charming as he thought he could be.

"Are you done?" Drystan had his arms crossed, voice louder than the music.

"You have no need to be jealous,"

"No need? No need? You were fucking preening," Drystan took a step back, hurt evident on his face.

"Jealousy isn't attractive," Robert snapped, ashamed.

"You... You're such a..." Drystan's face crumbled and Robert sighed and cursed himself as Drystan left - the possibility of him crying was high. Higher than Robert thought at first. He wasn't supposed to do this to hurt other people. Better bounce back, reporters would be sniffing around.

Robert felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and so his attention turned to the terrifying name written across the screen. Johnny. Robert took a deep breath, wishing he could just block the numbers entirely. But what was the point? Johhny, Enrique and Oliver would just get new numbers and call again. "What are you doing calling me?" Robert tried to feel more at ease, sitting back in his seat and hoping his voice came across as arrogant and disdainful.

"You were in the paper again," Robert made no attempt to further the conversation. Johnny didn't give up though, stubborn as always. "Why are you - what's up with you?"

"Nothing, I told you. All of you." Naturally, Robert was quite a good liar in most regards. Lying to the team was impossible though and so he'd left them all with a text message regarding them redundant. Oliver was the first to question the timing of this and Johnny didn't need much convincing either. Enrique was the only one to stop calling after several rebuttals. He never took rejection well.

"Acting like a fucking shithead might scare Oliver away and make Enrique stop asking but-" Robert closed his eyes. The plan was simple, drag Father down to the lowest point until he apologised until he returned what was taken. His friends did not need to be guilty by association nor made to apologise on his behalf. Robert could embarrass himself, Robert would tarnish his pride for his goal but it was unthinkable and completely out of the question to have the team dragged into this. It would be inexcusable, it wouldn't be honourable. No, it just couldn't happen.

"We can't be friends, Jonathan." Robert would like to think his words were strong and chastising, but inside Robert wanted to say he was sorry, to beg and tell them all what was going on. But that wasn't going to happen either. The plan didn't need to have them involved. He'd do this himself.

"Why are you doing this?" Jonathan's familiar anger flared through his words. Oh, Robert could even picture the gritting teeth and clenched fists.

"Doing what?"

"Everything! The stunts with those papers, quitting beyblading, the crazy shit your father says about you,"

"What has he been saying?"

"That you're just rebelling because you're under 'great pressure' and can't handle being told you'll be the head of the family."

"You know me, I never did like people telling me what to do." Unable to take it anymore, Robert ended the call and with Johnny in his head, he called out for another drink. "Bartender!" This night might be the night he'd do something reckless and unforgivable and maybe, maybe Father would return with a bowed head.

One stiff drink to still the nerves and Bryan left the club from one of the service doors in the back. Robert better not follow; looking back Bryan spied him with yet more company. He had a bit of a name here, apparently. Snorting into the chilling air, Bryan was glad the coincidence benefited him so much. The invitation Robert had given him hadn't been completely useless. Any power Robert held was gone now his 'interest' was on the table. Going to Robert's place however, only to go to the club was too much, too risky for Bryan. This was the only gay club Bryan knew that had an exclusive VIP lounge, but Bryan's ties to it made things a little difficult. For now, in Bryan's world, he could stretch the fragment of hope he had left to call this place a safe haven. Away from The Apartment. From The Team. From The Mistake. A place to rest. Bryan almost smiled until he heard a faint cough from down an alleyway. That'll be him.

Bryan spotted him leaning against a wall with a cigarette which mimicked the end of an exhaust pipe. Out of all the places Bryan thought he'd see the guy again it had to be here. The one place he thought he could deceive himself for just a few hours. Whatever. Business was business and Bryan flicked the debit card out of his back pocket. The old fart's name was printed in black raised letters. He couldn't wait to go through an entire week without hearing it, or seeing it or thinking about the crappy old man. Bryan had been surprised at the fact it didn't seem blocked, or that Sir Edwin had completely forgotten his face. Well, maybe, maybe not too surprised at the latter.

A wryly smile greeted him along with bleached teeth, "Yah finally remember me?" A few dark purple strands fell in front of his blue eyes, "Yah should thank me, for not calling nobody!" The guy, who Bryan only knew as 'Vin', took another drag of his cigarette. Bryan turned his nose up, more cautious of the man's words than his habit. What if he had told someone? What if the police were here, listening in? Bryan threw the plastic card to the ground. If Vin wanted his payment he would get his hands dirty, no matter what.

"Take the card and don't think about mentioning or acknowledging - any of us." Bryan took in his surroundings now, not enjoying the criss-cross of alleyways and overflowing skips that could easily shield and hide other people behind it. Deciding to leave, Bryan turned to go. He tried not to seem too agitated when Vin continued to speak.

"Yah keep talkin' to me like I'mma fool. I ain't. I want something else from yah." Bryan froze.

"What's that?" asked Bryan, turning back, not truly believing someone was about to sign their own death sentence. If Tala, Spencer or even Ian found out this moron was trying to do they wouldn't hesitate to break him to keep him silent. Now with so much riding on this, on all this secrecy, it was more of a law than a mere fleeting truth. An inch started inside him, uncomfortable, fermenting the effect of Vin's threats. Bryan added a strike against Vin's name in his head. Bryan needed to then, no - he would, he would make sure this idiot wouldn't say a word. No one was going to stop them. No one was going to interfere with them. No one. Ever. Not again.

"The redhead for yah to make sure I don't say nothing." Vin was clearly not aware Tala had no inclination towards that of other men. Well, actually Bryan wasn't entirely certain it had never came up as a conversational topic. They didn't talk much anymore; none of them did. Still even if Bryan knew for certain that Tala wouldn't mind the deal, principles refused to acknowledge it. Tala wasn't going to know about this. Tala wasn't going to know his name came up. Vin was going to be quiet, Bryan could handle this. The itch lessened. No more mistakes would happen.

"You'll take that and you will shut up, Vin."

"I ain't scared of yah. I know people too. I can go hide if I need to," Vin crushed the cigarette under a heel of his shoe. Bryan finally cracked the bones in his hand as Vin bent down to pick up the shiny card. Whatever emotion Bryan had felt tonight drained out of him like a dying battery. Cold and empty, the itch vanished. This Vin wasn't going to say a word, and it was Bryan's job to make sure of that. No mistakes. No matter what, The Team couldn't be put in danger. "I ain't scared of yah. I'll call right now, so yah better-"

Bryan booted Vin in the face and as Vin recoiled and yelled out in surprise and pain, Bryan knew The Apartment was the only place to return tonight. Vin scrambled backwards and Bryan circled around, eerily calm, watching the furious display of emotions on Vin's face as he tried to analyse the situation. Bryan snorted again, smiling. It was in his gut though, the way it tightened. The way his legs suddenly felt too damn still. Disgust and excitement. Power and complete helplessness against the conjured thoughts of what he could do - get away with.

"I'll tell! Yah'll all be locked up!" Vin stood on shaky legs, the card in his trembling hands.

As if the words were a starting siren, Bryan hit him with every piece of fury, every inch of betrayal the man stood for. Every moment Bryan had suffered, every second Bryan had endured, he returned it to the now faceless, nameless body that stood in front of him. Well, he wasn't standing now. What was that noise? Oh, he was whimpering. Ha! Was he shitting him? Ha! Ha! Ha! What a baby! Bryan stamped on a leg, very clear was sound of bone meeting cement. Vin was definitely crying now. This was fucking- The repulsive itch returned ripping the haze from his eyes.

Wait. Vin's face was contorted, in a manner Bryan could recount so easily from so many others. Out of habit he closed his eyes, thoughts jumbled with adrenaline. What the fuck was he doing? Vin had curled into himself, into a tight a ball as he could with that injured leg. Fuck. The constant stream of those howling cries made Bryan take a step back. He was meant to be here - to forget about shit like this. Not, not, not fucking find it. Shit. Shit! With an animalistic snarl Bryan punched the nearest wall, the pain immediate. Keeping his eyes closed, he took a deep breath and spoke as steadily as he could.

"You'll take the card and we won't speak again." Vin made no remarks, no sarcastic comments or any of his threats. That was good enough for Bryan. No slip ups, no, no more mistakes. The itch was tormenting him now. Leaving the alleyway, Bryan turned around again, taking one last look at the damage he'd caused. Suffocating. He yelled out one last thing. "I'll... I'll call 112." So walked away as he dialled and informed them of an injured man. He didn't bother to leave his own details, he simply went back to Robert's car knowing to wait.

Nothing good would come out of this. With the slam of the door Bryan closed his eyes, and leaned back, the pain now prevalent in his hand as shock waves pulsed through his fingers and up his arm. Had he broken it? Either way, Bryan's forfeit of control required correction. He twitched and constantly moved his fingers, the shots at his nerves making his grit his teeth. With the unharmed hand Bryan grabbed at his hair, pulling and hissing to himself at the error - the miscalculation on Vin's personality. What would Bryan do if Vin did say anything?

When a text message bleeped on his phone, he was surprised - to be relieved. Robert had wondered where he was and so eloquently stated: 'Do get to the car & drive me home!' Bryan sighed again. Tonight should have been a night away. From everything. Bryan replied back with one word. 'Done.' The Apartment, The Team, The Mistake, nothing was meant to blend into the real world, the outside world where people he didn't know were watching. Bryan always assumed this rage was contained. It was only because of The Team he did these things. No, no. He, he couldn't do this. No. He couldn't have.

But it was fun. Exhilarating. The constant cycle of guilt and remorse hunted down and pinned the ideal of absolute power and infliction of pain upon another. It was only after a few more minutes of waiting, going by the time on Bryan's phone, that Robert appeared. It felt longer. Chirpier than Bryan remembered him, Robert hopped inside.

"Bryan!" Hearing his name said with such enthusiasm made Bryan almost flinch, "You should have stayed - such a spectacle! The bouncers were involved. It - it was most entertaining. There was a chant and everything." It was official. Bryan could hear the booze. "Oh, yes actually, here you are." Bryan hoped his hand wasn't going to be spotted. But Robert wasn't stupid, one short glance and the spoiled guy would question him. Always with the questions.

"What's that?" This time, Bryan grimaced at his own words as Robert pulled out what seemed to be a number written on a napkin. Or paper towels, it didn't matter.

"Someone wanted me to pass-"

"Not interested." Robert grinned at his response, why, Bryan wasn't sure it was even in the realms of logic. Bryan opened the window and promptly dropped the scrawled number.

"How cold." Bryan started the car without any prompt, ignored the fake grouch that sat next to him. It was only when Bryan stopped at the traffic lights did the chirpy persona of Robert dissipate into more annoying questions. For a few minutes, Robert seemed sober - too quick to remember and ask such things.

"What happened? Is it your night for a hospital visit?" Bryan sent a glare, but refused to answer. Refuse to acknowledge the pain. Refused to acknowledge what he did. Hide it away. Forget about it. Like the Ian thing. Or the Tala thing. Or Spencer thing. Or the Mistake. Fuck, he wish he could forget The Mistake. Bryan glanced up. Back to the road, just listen to the engine, just feel the steering wheel and leather seats and the way the car slowed at every touch of the break. Forget it. Hush. Forget, forget, forget. Bryan blinked hard uncomfortable with the knowledge he had a passenger staring at him.

"You really aren't my type, do you wish to know why?"

"I... don't care." Bryan shrugged, not bothering to see yet another pained expression tonight. But from the lurch forward, the jump into animation, Robert was far from put out at the response.

"That's exactly it! You are - you are just-" Bryan saw a frown on Robert's face deepen, "I'm actually forgetting the word I want to use... I-" and deeper it became and Bryan admitted, it was amusing enough whilst waiting for lights to change, "-obscure. Yes, obscure."

"I'm obscure?"

"Not even in the mysterious 'I must unravel this mystery' kind, but 'this is infuriatingly odd'. Do you even know what you're doing?" Bryan wanted to laugh at the question. No. No, he didn't fucking know. Was it obvious? "Why did you bring the c- no, no, the phone number. Suddenly I'm okay to speak with. You've been edgy at every moment. Like I'm going to murder you." The frown started again,"I'm not, you do know that's such a silly thing to think, don't you? What are you even thinking? I always know what people are thinking."

Bryan's eyebrows raised at the ramblings, well someone was truly fucked. He'd feel that tomorrow. How much had Robert even had? "You have a problem with me acceptin' your number?" Bryan hoped not, Robert's place was pre-planned now to be his destination whenever possible. So long as Robert wasn't annoyed with too many visits, still, Bryan could always bleed out a few droplets of information: make Robert want him around to ask more of his irritating questions.

"Yes. No." Robert waved his hand in the air, then rubbed his forehead and was quiet for another set of lights. "Keep it, but still, explain why the sudden agreeableness."

Bryan had to admit when he'd heard drunks speak they didn't go for words like 'agreeableness'. Robert was different. Then again, Bryan thought about the last guy he'd seen off his tits on alcohol. Shouting about how massive a hedge was and how he'd fuck his ex-boss 'cause her ass was amazing, not necessary connected, but still, Robert probably wasn't going to spout anything that damn hilarious. Fuck, imagine it. Bryan laughed.

"I'm using you for a place to stay." He chided Robert, hoping to see his reaction and with it, he could alter how to handle the sober Robert. If Robert was offended then Bryan wouldn't say anything along the same lines again even in jest. Best not burn every bridge; Bryan was running out of matches.

"Oh. Well, my place is no doubt a thousand times more comfortable than wherever you happen to be, peasant." Bryan wasn't expecting an insult back. This bridge was looking to made from sand.

"Fuck you."

"I wish you would, especially if my father'll find out via some twisted form of media. That would be such a golden opportunity." Robert laughed loudly, and leaned back on his chair, head fully back.

Did Bryan just hear - what? What the fucking fuck was that? What? Wait. "That's fucked up." Bryan grimaced. This was going into the territory Bryan always felt uncomfortable with, the actual information about people. To Hell with favourite colours and meals. If Bryan were to list features about Tala it'd be he panicked over bruises more so than blood, that he couldn't stand the thought of hitting a woman because of his old man, that he would rather die than to speak about his father. Issues. Insecurities. The actual stuff that mattered. Bryan couldn't do that sort of thing anymore.

"No, no, I know it annoys him and I hate - what he did - he - he shouldn't have - but it's... He should suffer." Robert lulled himself into silence, voice somewhat croaking and whilst Bryan could make out the words, he felt the inclusion of them. Robert wasn't happy with what was going on. Bryan wasn't happy. Robert was trying to fight against whatever the fuck was wrong. Bryan... Bryan pulled into the private car park behind the condo and made his escape. He needed to breathe.

Robert encouraged him with loud remarks to follow him back upstairs - to the amazing couch. Bryan thought about it. He could stay over. He could, he would believe the damn sofa was more comforting than his own mattress. No contest. A giddy Robert wasn't so easy to guide up stairs. Once the door opened, Bryan abandoned Robert at his front door and headed straight for the only comfort Bryan knew was even in reach. A minute or so later and Bryan heard a slam, and thud of a thrown jacket.

"I think I've had a little too much," Robert murmured and latched his arms around Bryan's neck, cheek resting on Bryan's shoulder. Bryan ignored the smell of alcohol and the breath that accompanied it. Thoughts turned bitter when he remembered he was suppose to be leaving now. He couldn't stay here. In surprise, Bryan jumped when he felt Robert's hand on his face. Instinct took over and Bryan stayed still, but kept an unwavering gaze on Robert's darker eyes. What was he doing? At first it was a prod, just above his eyebrow, then the thumb and finger which skimmed the hairline at his forehead.

"You must frown a great deal." Bryan squinted his eyes at Robert, what was this guy even saying? Another fleeting touch over his cheekbone, which if Robert had done two weeks ago, Bryan would have been in a great deal of pain. Once again, Bryan realised how Robert's hands were unblemished, smooth from his privilege life. Bryan almost closed his eyes but an antagonising thought crawled into his head. He really did wish that he could - no. Wrong. Thoughts like this never helped. Bryan ripped his gaze away from the ever watchful Robert and glared at the opposing sofa.

"You're really-"

The noise that sounded from the back of Robert's throat made Bryan try and, push Robert, dodge out of the way. But too late. "Fucking gross," Bryan closed his eyes and tried not to breath through his nose, though it did nothing for the sensation of a soaked shirt and trousers of alcohol vomit. Robert was gone, stumbling and by the sound of it, throwing up the remains of his stomach in the kitchen sink. Bryan swore, he'd kill the bastard if it wasn't so disgusting a feeling to move.

AN: There's some fatal flaws. Robert you twisted people-user (who is turning out to be somewhat paranoid) and Bryan for shame people-beater-upper. Anger issues abound. Tut. Tut. I'm not fond of you Bryan, not now, no, you have quite a damn personal journey to go on. It's not going to be pretty. =|

Oh and for non-Europeans or, just anyone who doesn't know, you can call 112 anywhere in Europe and you'll get the emergency services. Each country has their own 'national' number, I think. Britain you could call 999 or 112. Very helpful if you're a tourist and need some help.

Thank you for reading!

ヾ(＾∇＾)

Guest/Anon replies now:

ZhangZhangXD: Oh god no, no rape in this. One thing I wouldn't bring myself to write. Promise no rape at all, no attempts, not even implied! Okay, yes, Sir Edwin is "majorly" involved. I will say nothing more than that. Cheers for the constant reviews, greatly motivational. Hope you weren't flailing for too long. ^-^;;