Chapter 8
The cold metal stung into his skin, disabling his left hand from moving. He frowned as he thought of his hometown, the place where he would give anything just to go back and forget this all had ever happened. Sitting in the corner of a coffee shop and chugging down coffee cup after coffee cup sounded like a far better idea than gambling on a squeaky couch with his hand cuffed to it. This was so ridiculous! The blond had to do nothing but pull the goddamn trigger and Matt would have been long gone and the mafia boss not so bitchy. Then again, maybe it had been the guy's nature to keep this arrogant, almost stupid attitude. No, stupid couldn't be the right word, because the man was temperamental, yet still an undeniably smart person. By avoiding the death of Matt, he was keeping him on the edge. He knew it would become a greater torture for the redhead if he violated him, but keeping him alive all the while. Mr. None-of-your-business was a sneaky bastard.

While the sofa had the optional setting to be a bed, it wasn't so much a bed but a thick piece of wood Matt lay on. The sharp edges dug themselves into Matt's delicate pale skin on his left forearm and he hissed as it began to be painful. He cursed the blond under his breath, knowing that if he moved a finger, it could scratch up his arm. "Where did you get this scar from, Mail?" – "Oh my god, what happened to you, Matt!" – "Heh, I told you all he was emo! Depressed little cocksucker!" Better not risk it.

Matt hated sleeping on couches since he was a young boy, when his aunts Mary and Sue let him sleep on said couch but never watched over him. In his slumber, Matt fell from the soft cushions only to meet the hard parquet floor. The redhead moved his sleep quite often, but his aunts were too busy fondeling themselves to even notice a crying four year old on the ground. The bulge on his head lasted for several days. Matt would not sleep on couches again after this. But this was an exception. This whole mess was merely an exception. The more he repeated it in his mind, the less he believed it. His thoughts trailed off and before he knew it, exhaustion hit him with an uncomfortable dose of sleep.

He awoke to the sound of muffled sobs. Closing his eyes, the redhead tried to listen carefully. The mafia boss was crying? Yes, it couldn't be anyone else. The walls seemed thin, therefore he could hear all the whimpers and the small snivels and sobs coming from what the blond had referred to as the Forbidden Room. His heart was slowly filled with cement, hardening and falling to his feet at the sound. A blond, young man with tears streaking down his cheeks and his hands clinging onto the closest pillow in sorrow was not the happiest picture his mind could form. He really must be crazy, but in the second he heard the mafia boss cry, he wanted nothing more but to hold him in his arms and assure him that there was nothing harmful in this world.

In a moment of unawareness he shifted on the couch and instantly bit down on his bottom lip to keep himself from screaming. The sharp metal cut open his forearm barely enough to make the red liquid trickle down from the metal onto the ground. With his free arm, he slipped out of the right side of his shirt and pulled it off his head to the left side of his body. Matt pressed the shirt onto his wound as best as he could, trying to stop the bleeding. In the background, the blond still cried to himself. The moonlight shining into the room exposed a ricocheting object stuck to the couch. Matt left the shirt to soak in all of the blood, and reached out for the object. This single motion caused the old furniture to squeak again and all of a sudden silence filled the room. Matt hadn't dared to breath, afraid that the blond would come out and find him awake. Just for a second he was glad to hear the blond's cries again, and withdrew the object from the couch.

A hair pin? Fair enough, he thought and started to use said hair pin to unscrew the cuffs from his left wrist. After minutes of struggle, he succeeded with a clicking sound to free him. Now he could escape. He could climb out this window and run away. But that took too much effort. He'd rather just walk around in the room without cuffs so that Mr. None-of-your-business could shoot him in an instant. With his left arm moveable, he took the shirt off completely to make a knot with it around the wound. After all, he couldn't afford getting an infection. What a disgraceful way to leave this world.

Matt had no doubt that by now, the mafia boss was calm again and simply tried to collect himself. He could picture it so well. A person with this much emotion must be hurting constantly. It wasn't even worth it. In this world, those who hurt are only celebrated when discovered. But the leather clad man gave off the dangerous and fearless vibe. No one would ever guess that this man, who killed hundreds of people by now, cries when he wakes up. Maybe he didn't even sleep at all. Maybe the mafia boss cried although the night because of hurtful memories or it was just a nightmare too real to distinguish from reality. Sad, wasn't it? People who want to live, suffer. People who want to suffer, live.

Dawn had arrived and Matt thought that maybe he could at least get Mr. Emotional on his good side for one day. He slowly began to show interest in this contradicting character of the miserable young man. This was the only reason Matt tried to keep himself from getting killed right now. Tip-toeing over to the kitchen part of the living room area, the redhead began to search through several cupboards to find something edible. Unfortunately, all he found was a bag of instant coffee. This had to be good enough for now, he thought, and took two mugs from the shelf and added five spoonfuls of coffee to each. After this terrible night, the blond could use a strong one, right?

While he waited for the water to boil, he looked into the fridge, only to find it almost empty. There was a box of noodles and some water bottles in the back of it. He sighed and now poured the hot water into the mugs and proceeded to stir it. "Mhh..." he smiled as he inhaled the coffee smell. With a jolt, Matt almost dropped the coffee mug onto the ground. Cold metal touched the back of his neck. The click of a gun. Shit.

"Why the fuck are you not cuffed to the couch?" The mafia boss sounded venomous. For a second Matt truly believed he will kill him now, but when the dumb-struck redhead refused to answer, the gun was lowered.

Seconds passed before Matt gathered the courage to turn around and face the furious man. "I made coffee," he stated in an attempt to calm him down. "I thought you would like that. It sounded like you had a rough night." He kept his voice low. Green eyes met blue ones, which were red and puffy from the previous sobbing fit. Matt also noticed that the blond stood before him in nothing but black boxers. Wordlessly, the mafia boss shoved his gun at the side of his boxers before he took hold of the mug in Matt's hands. The redhead let a small smile come onto his features. They both began to sip on their coffees.

Both of them stayed silent for a long time, but then curiosity got the better of Matt and he asked in a whisper, "Did you have a nightmare?"