Trigger warnings: violence & sexual assault/rape. Please read at your own discretion. Shit's getting real again, you guys. I felt guilty writing this part but this is honestly how I felt things would play out...Craig's just going to get worse, I'm afraid. Poor Kyle. :( I'm so mean to him, but I have a feeling he'll be okay in the end; he's just experiencing a period of struggle. Anyway, ENJOY! 3
PS: Just don't give up on me, you guys. Kyle will be ok eventually, of that I am sure. ;)
Find me, in another place and time
If only, if only you were mine
But I'm already someone else's baby
Guess I had my last chance
And now this is our last dance
You fell through the cracks in my hands
Hard to say it's over
But I'm already someone else's...baby.
- Baby, Clean Bandit
Time seemed to stop dead in its tracks as soon as Kyle read Craig's email, and for a moment he wondered how the world could possibly keep turning now that his husband was waiting outside. How could the TV continue to play mindless infomercials in the background, how could the air conditioning continue to run, how could Kenny keep sleeping so peacefully, none the wiser? Kyle felt like his world was falling apart and it staggered him because just five minutes before everything had seemed so perfect, so calm and content. How could this have happened? How had Craig managed to find him?
He almost screamed when the phone chirped again, still clutched in his hand. Staring down at it with new horror, Kyle slowly read the email Craig had sent, mere seconds after the last one:
Don't make me wait, Kyle. Oh, and you'd better bring the diary with you. I know you have it. Delete these messages and log out of your email before coming outside.
Taking a deep breath, Kyle had to hold back his tears as he did exactly what Craig told him to do, shifting into autopilot obedience so easily it was truly frightening. First he deleted the emails Craig just sent, even going so far as to delete them from his trash folder, and then he logged out of his email, setting the phone aside. Glancing around, he pulled on his jeans and socks, not bothering to change out of the t-shirt he wore to bed. Glancing at Kenny, he choked down a sob as he lifted Rose from the bed and prepared to take her as well, remembering Kenny's letter to him at the last minute. Feeling awful, he tore the page out of Rose along with his latest entry, knowing Craig would be absolutely incensed if he knew Kyle had let Kenny read it; the latest passage revealing far more than he felt comfortable with. Laying the pages aside, his eyes fell on his keys sitting on the dresser; impetuously, he decided to leave them behind.
During all of this, Kenny continued to sleep soundly, his soft breaths stealing through the room and breaking Kyle's heart. He didn't want to think about Kenny waking up and him not being there, and for a moment he had the crazy impulse to just wake him up and beg for deliverance, but he didn't dare. Kyle had no idea what Craig would do to Kenny and his family if he disobeyed, and he had no interest in finding out; especially with innocent children involved. Instead, he covered his mouth with his hand as he slowly began to open the door, the tears finally falling because he just didn't have the strength to hold them back anymore. Hungrily, he tried to burn every detail of Kenny's face into his memory so he could have something to hold onto when he left, his eyes momentarily straying to the lighthouse as well, not wanting to forget a single part of it, but after just a few seconds he turned away, passing through the door and closing it quietly behind him.
The trip to the front door was both the longest and shortest trek of Kyle's life, and he took a few extra seconds slipping on his sneakers before finally, he opened the front door and slipped out into the night, leaning against the door for just a moment after shutting it; not wanting to turn around but knowing he had no choice. A sob tore from his throat when he finally did, because there was Craig, leaning against his black Jag as it idled in front of Karen's home; terribly out of place and positively horrifying. Craig was dressed in dark slacks and his black fitted jacket, his hand in his pocket as he smoked a cigarette, his cool eyes trained on Kyle as he slowly approached him, his feet dragging.
"Good boy," he smiled, going to the passenger side and smoothly opening the door. "It took you less than three minutes to come outside, Kyle. I'm impressed. Get in."
Gritting his teeth, Kyle obeyed without protest, climbing into the car and wincing when Craig shut the door. Mechanically, he put his seat belt on and waited, huddling against the door and trying to put as much space between him and his husband as possible when he climbed behind the wheel. Immediately, Craig locked all the doors and pulled away from the house, circling back and heading back toward the main road, cracking the window a titch so he could blow his smoke out into the night air.
"I thought you quit," Kyle said, softly.
Craig took a long drag and glanced at Kyle, frowning as the smoke drifted out of his mouth.
"I've recently found myself in a very stressful situation, Kyle. I smoke when I'm stressed out. Is that a problem?"
Quickly, Kyle shook his head and looked away, his eyes studying the stars as they flew by, aching at how close they seemed and remembering how they trembled as he stood on the Grand Mesa with Kenny, mere hours before.
"I trust you didn't have an error in judgement and leave a note or something for Kenny," Craig said, turning up the radio slightly; a frenzied nocturne filling up the car and making Kyle slightly nauseous. "And don't lie to me, Kyle. I'll know if you're lying."
"No, I didn't leave him a note. He doesn't know anything, Craig; he's asleep," Kyle murmured, clutching Rose in his lap.
"Give me that." Swiftly, Craig reached out and snatched up the diary, tucking it into one of his jacket pockets. "I still need to finish this."
"I thought you wanted to burn it," Kyle muttered, staring at the bulge the diary made in Craig's pocket. It almost felt like he'd tucked his still beating heart inside of his jacket like it was nothing; like it didn't even matter.
"Oh, I will, but I want to finish reading it, first. I mean, your interpretation of events is really very amusing; it'd be a shame not to read Rose in her entirety."
Kyle cringed to hear Rose's name leave Craig's lips, the word almost sounding like a curse when his husband spoke it aloud.
"Besides, it's not like you're going to tell me what you're really thinking on your own. If anything, your behavior is forcing me to read the damn thing, Kyle. You have to realize that."
"There's nothing wrong with writing down my private thoughts just for myself," Kyle whispered, beginning to shake now. He knew he was being petulant and forward, but he didn't care. Craig had already won, hadn't he? What did it even matter anymore; escape was just a fucking pipe dream anyway.
"Right, just for yourself," Craig said, taking one last drag on the cigarette and stubbing it out; he flipped the butt out the window and rolled it up. "You let Kenny read it, didn't you?"
"Why would I -"
"Of course you did, why am I even asking? And I'm sure he offered you a million and one apologies on my behalf, right? God, this shit is like blood in the water for predators like that asshole," he seethed. "It just gives him an opportunity to be a hero, but little does he realize you're just a liar, Kyle; an attention seeker and a liar."
"That isn't true!" Kyle sobbed, turning to him in utter disbelief. "You know it isn't true! Everything I wrote in the diary happened, you just don't want to accept it!"
"No, I just can't accept that you're making up this fucking nonsense and feeding it to trash like Kenny McCormick. He's fucking scum, Kyle, he's absolutely worthless."
"Stop talking about him like that! You don't even fucking know him! Kenny's a good person, Craig, he's -"
Before Kyle could finish what he was saying Craig slapped him hard across the face, brutally silencing him save for his sobs as they tore from his lips; his mouth bleeding.
"Don't fucking try to sell Kenny to me, Kyle, because I'm not buying, got it?" Deftly, Craig pulled another cigarette out and lit it, opening the window again. "Jesus, this is totally fucking up my New Year's resolution. I'm up to a fucking pack a day, can you believe that?"
Kyle didn't answer, opting instead to clutch at his mouth as he leaned his head against the window, not even wanting to look at Craig let alone talk to him. He continued to cry, his whole body shaking as he tried to stifle the sounds behind his hand. He nearly screamed from surprise when he felt a hand on his thigh, squeezing softly.
"Let's not fight, okay? I'm just happy that I have you back, and I'm pretty sure you can understand why I don't want to hear about how great Kenny is. Right?"
Wanting to avoid another blow, Kyle nodded slowly, his mouth still bleeding profusely.
"Here, wipe your mouth," Craig said softly, reaching into his breast pocket and pulling out a handkerchief; he offered it to Kyle who slowly took it, holding it to his lips. Soon it was saturated with red, and he breathed deeply of its scent; Craig's expensive cologne. "Why don't we stop somewhere so we can talk and have something to drink. Wouldn't that be nice?"
"Yes, Craig," Kyle said, his voice coming across as dead but undeniably compliant. "I'd like that."
"Not that there's anything worth talking about in this town," Craig scoffed, scanning the businesses lining the streets as he rolled into Grand Junction proper, a sneer on his face. "This place is just as backward and forgotten as South Park, Kyle. Can't you feel it dying all around you? That's why I can't wait for us to go out east, at least there's some life out there."
Kyle's heart began to pound at the mention of relocating, but he didn't dare say a word against it; not with Craig already being in a savage mood. He lapsed into his last defense: silence. Rather than reply, he watched the town flow by as Craig looked for a restaurant that was open at such a late hour, finally deciding on a Village Inn and pulling into the lot.
"Well, it's open 24 hours, at least," Craig muttered, putting the car in park and shutting it off. He glanced at Kyle, studying him. "Kyle, you're a sight, baby. What the hell has happened to you since you've been away?"
Kyle looked down at himself, puzzled.
"I mean, my lip has almost stopped bleeding, so -"
"No, I mean your clothes, your shoes. What are you wearing?" Reaching out, Craig pulled on a Kyle's t-shirt, an expression of disgust on his face. "I'm glad that you're wearing green, of course, but these clothes are so cheap. You'd think Kenny would at least spring for something decent." He smirked. "What, can't he afford anything better?"
Kyle's heart hurt on Kenny's behalf at Craig's callous words, and he clutched at the shirt, loving it all the more for its simplicity. Kenny had offered to buy him nicer things but he'd refused. He'd never really cared about his clothes, Craig did, so he'd just worn whatever he was told to wear. If he'd had his choice, he would've worn simple jeans and t-shirts for the rest of his life, saving his nice things for work or social occasions.
"Kenny didn't have to buy anything for me, Craig," Kyle finally said, brushing some stray tears from his cheeks. "He was just being -"
"Kind, right. Kind, thoughtful, helpful Kenny; what a fucking saint," Craig interrupted, wiping a smear of blood from Kyle's chin. "Your face is healing well, at least. The bruises are fading. Even so, wear these." Reaching into the center console he pulled out a pair of Armani sunglasses, Kyle slipped them on without protest; Craig grinned, seemingly satisfied.
"You'll do. Let's go."
"You aren't eating."
Craig studied Kyle's plate, his eyebrow raised as he languidly sipped a cup of coffee, his fingers tapping incessantly on the table. Kyle had looked down at the table in silence as Craig had ordered a slice of apple pie a la mode for him, along with a tall glass of milk. Now he was picking at his food while trying to fight back his growing tremors, the nausea from before still alive and well in his stomach.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, taking a small bite. Chewing, he swallowed the slice of apple and tried not to gag, quickly taking a small sip of milk. "I don't feel very well."
"You look gaunt," Craig said, appraising him with narrowed eyes. "Have you been eating at all since you've been away from home?"
"I've been trying." Reluctantly, he took another bite of pie, having no appetite for sweets but not wanting to make Craig any angrier. It also disturbed him that Craig had ordered such a childish spread for him, pie and milk, like he was a little kid receiving a reward; Craig looking on with almost fatherly indulgence. Under the table, he clutched at the hem of his shirt, crushing it with his hand from anxiety.
"Well, you look awful," Craig said, polishing off the coffee in his cup and setting it down with a clatter. Almost immediately, the waitress appeared, offering him a refill. He smiled and nodded his head, turning on the charm with almost effortless ease. "Thank you so much, Andrea," he said, giving her a warm look. Kyle almost gagged, just looking at it.
"Did you need anything else, honey?" Andrea turned to Kyle and smiled at him kindly, almost regarding him with what had to be pity. Kyle could hardly blame her, he must appear absolutely pitiful and lost to her; wearing sunglasses into a restaurant in the middle of the night and eating pie that he didn't even get to order for himself. Flushing, he glanced down at his plate quickly.
"He's just fine," Craig said smoothly, picking up a spoon and reaching over to scoop up a bite of pie, popping it into his mouth; he smiled with pleasure. "This is fabulous, by the way. I can see why you guys are known for your pies."
Andrea flushed with pleasure, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked at Craig with open adoration, clearly taken in by his superficial warmth.
"We're famous for 'em," she smiled, looking down at the floor bashfully. After a moment, she reluctantly turned away. "Well, just let me know if I can get you anything else," she added, glancing at Kyle again. "Enjoy, okay?"
Kyle nodded, spooning a bit of ice cream into his mouth and immediately wanting to spit it out. She walked away, prompting Craig to roll his eyes.
"I never could've imagined I'd find myself in a dump like this, out in the middle of nowhere." He sighed, sipping more of his coffee. "Oh, the things we do for love, huh?"
"Hmm," Kyle replied, drinking some milk. He sat back, setting his glass down and clinking his spoon against a dish, wanting to fade away into his thoughts; maybe Craig couldn't follow him there, though he doubted it.
"What, cat got your tongue, Kyle?"
"No, I just don't know what to say that won't make you mad," Kyle said honestly, setting his spoon down. He pressed a hand against his aching mouth, tasting faint swirls of blood mixing with the flavors of ice cream on his tongue.
"You can't seriously be surprised that I'm angry," Craig sighed, setting his cup down. Reaching over, he slid Kyle's bowl closer to himself and picked up the spoon, taking a bite. "You ran off and to Kenny of all people, how am I supposed to feel?"
"You were trying to make me go in the basement again," Kyle replied, softly, clasping his hands together in his lap so he could stop them from shaking. "I was scared." He paused, throwing caution to the wind. "I still am."
"Nonsense, you have nothing to be afraid of, I already told you that. Open," Craig instructed, holding up a spoonful of pie and ice cream. Without thinking, Kyle obediently opened his mouth and accepted the confections, chewing and swallowing quickly. "You never made such a huge fuss about the basement in the past, Kyle. What changed?"
"Nothing," Kyle replied, opening again when Craig instructed him to, taking another mouthful of food. He swallowed while Craig watched him closely. "I just can't live with the pain anymore, Craig. It hurts so much, what you do to me down there."
"It's necessary, though. It keeps everything balanced, don't you think? You disobey, things fall out of line, and then we put them, you, back in place. It all makes so much sense when you really think about it."
"But if you love me you shouldn't want to hurt me like that. Right?" Kyle dared to ask, his voice coming across as childish and brittle.
"There's no question that I love you, Kyle. I don't understand how the two even correlate. We run our household in a way that works for us, and I'm not taking you into the basement to hurt you necessarily. It's just a reminder that you could be behaving better, and when you behave, things run smoothly. When things run smoothly, life is easier for everyone, do you follow me?"
"But I always behave, Craig. I do everything you tell me to," Kyle protested, feeling like he was drowning in the face of Craig's strange logic. He made such awful things almost make sense, always finding a way to make it seem like he was right and Kyle was always wrong.
"No, you don't," Craig replied, simply. "If you did, we wouldn't be where we are right now. If you behaved the way I wanted you to, I wouldn't have found that diary loaded with secrets and lies, and I wouldn't need to worry about you cheating on me with Kenny. Open."
Wordlessly, Kyle opened his mouth but this time he couldn't stop himself from gagging when Craig spooned the pie onto his tongue, quickly slapping a hand over his lips and looking at his husband with wide, pleading eyes. Swallowing, he dabbed at his mouth with a napkin.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that."
Craig sighed, setting the spoon down with a clatter.
"It's almost like you want to waste away," he commented, picking up his coffee and drinking deeply. "I like you thin, Kyle, but you're pushing the envelope here, just like always."
"I didn't do anything with Kenny," Kyle said, clenching his hands on his knees. "Nothing happened between us. Why won't you believe me?"
"I just know how fuckers like Kenny operate, Kyle. He preys on the easily led, the weak. I know he talked you into doing something, and I won't stop until I know what it is. I'm going to put everything to rights, I promise." He smiled and suddenly reached out, stroking a hand over Kyle's cheek tenderly. "It's only because I love you. You belong to me, baby; I don't want anyone else touching you. It'd be like fucking with our bond, you know? That's sacred to me."
He glanced over his shoulder, signaling to Andrea that he was ready for the check. He looked back at Kyle, crossing his arms.
"It's sacred to you too, right? What we have together?" He cocked an eyebrow, waiting for Kyle to respond.
Hurriedly, Kyle nodded his head as Andrea dropped off the check, lingering for a moment as Craig pulled out his credit card, a platinum American Express.
"Thank you," he smiled, watching as she bustled off. He flicked his eyes back to Kyle, studying him.
"I'm too tired to drive home tonight, Kyle, and you look exhausted. Let's get a hotel room, shall we? It'll be like a little impromptu holiday. What do you think?"
I'm pretty sure I don't have a choice either way.
"That sounds wonderful, Craig," Kyle said, allowing Craig to take his hand and squeeze it softly, the flavors of blood and sweet apple-tinged sugar coating his tongue.
"I suppose this will have to do," Craig commented, glancing around the modest hotel room. Setting his bag aside, he turned to Kyle, silently appraising him as he waited, exhaustion and a multitude of emotions dragging him down; fear becoming predominant. "You'll need a bath before bed, of course."
"Okay," Kyle replied, just wanting the night to end with as little discord as possible. He began to undress as Craig started to put his things in order, a sharp intake of breath occurring when he saw his husband casually remove a gun from his jacket pocket; he set it on the nightstand.
"Surprised?" He smirked, glancing at Kyle whose eyes were trained on the gun like his very life depended on it. "I knew getting my permit would come in handy someday, Kyle. And you said it wasn't necessary, remember?"
"W-were you going to..." Kyle trailed off as he swallowed, his throat uncomfortably dry. "You weren't going to shoot Kenny and -"
"Of course not, Kyle, don't be ridiculous," Craig laughed, pulling out his lighter and pack of cigarettes now, setting them next to the gun. "Jesus, what do you take me for, a cartoon villain or something? I wasn't going to do anything to them, love; I just needed to use a little persuasion to get you to come outside; that's all."
"Then why did you even bring it?" Kyle whispered, too afraid to continue undressing. He hated guns and Craig knew it, knew it all too well. He considered them cruel and cowardly, always seeming to fall into the wrong people's hands, and he regarded them the way he would a cobra; tensed and unpredictable.
"A man needs to be able to protect himself," Craig shrugged, pulling off his jacket and laying it over the back of a chair. Underneath he was wearing a white dress shirt, appearing like he was getting ready to go to a business meeting instead of picking up his wayward husband in the middle of the night. He began to unbutton it but he stopped, raising an eyebrow in Kyle's direction.
"Finish getting undressed, Kyle. What are you doing?"
"I just don't like having that thing in the room," Kyle whispered, unbuttoning his jeans and sliding them down; he slipped them off. He glanced at the cigarettes, too; hating them as well. "Why did you bring those? You can't smoke in hotel rooms anymore."
"So many questions," Craig sighed, pulling his shirt off, revealing a white undershirt. "You know I don't like a lot of questions, Kyle; you're just going to have to trust me."
"Trust you," Kyle repeated, faintly. "Sure, of course."
"I can already tell we're going to have to break some bad habits you picked up while you were with that lowlife," Craig said, untucking his shirt and undoing his belt, the soft leather hissing through the loops of his slacks as he pulled it off. He threw it on the bed and Kyle stared at it with simmering fear. Quickly, Craig pulled off his slacks so he was left standing in his shirt and boxer briefs, watching Kyle expectantly.
"Do I need to come over and undress you myself, Kyle? Because you're taking forever."
"No, no. I'm fine, I've got it," Kyle replied, hurriedly yanking off his shirt and shivering a little in the chill of the room. He went to remove his boxer briefs but he stopped, somehow unable to continue. He looked at Craig with pleading eyes, surprised when his husband smiled at him indulgently.
"Here, I was saving this for later but why don't we try it now?" Craig asked, opening the bag and pulling out a leather traveling case, Kyle's bath products, and finally a bottle of champagne. He picked it up, grinning boyishly. "I thought it would be fun to have a drink to celebrate our reunion." Looking around, he found a couple plastic cups sitting next to an empty ice bucket and plucked them up. He popped the cork off the bottle easily, holding it away from himself when the liquid bubbled up before pouring it smoothly into the waiting cups.
"To us," he said, handing a cup to Kyle who took it with a trembling hand. "Cheers." Craig tapped his cup against Kyle's, the action producing a muted sound in the room, a plastic tunk; he drank deeply, Kyle reluctantly following suit. "It would've been better chilled, but whatever, let's live dangerously for awhile, huh?" He winked at Kyle.
Kyle had taken a few sips of the champagne before Craig was pulling out some prescription bottles from the traveling case. Opening them, he slipped a few into his palm and handed them to Kyle.
"Take them, they'll help with your anxiety."
Kyle stared at the pills cradled in his palm and frowned.
"I don't recognize some of these, Craig. What are they?"
"Don't worry about it, Kyle. Take them. Now."
"But -"
"Now," Craig said, giving him a look and silencing him completely, grey eyes taking on a remote, cold quality. "I'll go run your bath once you're done."
Gulping, Kyle took the pills and washed them down with the remainder of his champagne, alternating between wanting to protest and needing to get along in order to retain some sort of self preservation. Once done, Craig kissed his cheek and rubbed a hand through his curls softly.
"That's better," he murmured, running a finger down Kyle's cheek. "I'll get everything set up, you finish getting undressed."
"Right," Kyle said, watching Craig's retreating back. Walking to the bathroom, he snapped on the light and stepped inside, after a moment Kyle heard the water starting up. Swiftly, he looked around the room, his eyes falling on the gun, the cigarettes, the belt, and finally they came to rest on Craig's keys waiting on a table next to the door, and a faint spike of courage ignited in his mind. Before he could stop himself, he was walking toward them.
"What are you doing?" Craig's voice called to him, making him stop dead in his tracks. Kyle glanced over his shoulder to see his husband watching him from the bathroom doorway, his arms crossed; faint amusement quirked his lips.
"I, uh, nothing. Nothing," Kyle said, turning away and slowly sliding his boxer briefs down and off, closing his eyes and biting his lips as he stood up; naked and vulnerable in front of his husband.
"Shy little bird," Craig commented, tenderness warming his tone. "Come here, baby. Let's get you washed up."
Fighting back tears, Kyle endured a steaming hot bath, the bathroom filled with vapor and the scent of fresh cut apples, Craig having brought the products he wanted Kyle to use. It had taken some coaxing to get Kyle to climb into the water after he'd tested it with his hand, cringing at how scalding hot it was, but Craig hadn't given him much of a choice.
"We need to do this, Kyle. Kenny's touched you, I know he has, so we need to wash away his influence."
Biting his lips until they felt raw, Kyle tried to go to the garden in his mind as Craig thoroughly washed him, scrubbing his skin until it was bright red and screaming, whispering to him all the while that what he was doing was necessary, that it would all be over soon so long as Kyle cooperated. Leaning over, he smelled Kyle's hair before washing it himself, smiling softly.
"I can tell you used your normal shampoo while you were away. That's good, that's very good, but I can still smell Kenny on you. Jesus Christ, he's fucking everywhere. It's disgusting."
"We didn't do anything," Kyle finally sobbed, his tears falling into the bathwater and disappearing. "I told you. Nothing happened!"
"We both know better than that," Craig murmured, kissing his shoulder. "But the truth will come to light soon enough, won't it?"
"H-how did you find us?" Kyle gasped when Craig instructed him to stand, washing his legs and private areas; rough hands exploring everywhere.
"You know I'm good at figuring things out, Kyle," Craig muttered, scrubbing the backs of his thighs and up to Kyle's backside, making him cringe away. He caught Kyle and kept him still, his fingers digging into his skin. "Besides, it was just a matter of thinking like Kenny. He's simple, and he's also a McCormick; McCormicks are trash and they naturally stick together. It wasn't hard to figure out his next move and my sister's friends with Karen. I just asked her where she lived nowadays; it couldn't have been more simple."
"But, you could've been wrong, and then what?" Crying out, Kyle began to tremble when Craig started focusing in on his most vulnerable parts. "You're hurting me, Craig!"
"Hush, I'm barely touching you," Craig scoffed, continuing to clean him with clinical, cold efficiency. "That's true, I could've been wrong, Kyle, but I wasn't, was I? If I had been I would've just checked elsewhere. It's amazing the information doctors have access to, and Carol McCormick is a patient in my practice; I can access her file whenever I want. That includes her emergency contacts."
"I just assumed you were going to ask Clyde for help," Kyle admitted, sagging with relief when Craig finally seemed satisfied that he was sufficiently clean. Now he was rinsing him off, the water having cooled down until it was tolerable.
"Only if push came to shove, honestly," Craig replied dismissively, stroking a hand up Kyle's back and over his scars, lingering for a moment. "I wouldn't want to put him in that position and besides, it would just make me look suspicious." He snorted, rolling his eyes. "What a crock of shit, having to worry about looking suspicious when all I want to do is find my own goddamn husband. God, what a fucking world we live in, huh?"
"Why couldn't you let me have some time? Just a little time to think?" Kyle whispered, shakily stepping from the bath with Craig's help; his husband wrapping a fluffy white towel around him.
"You didn't need time." Sitting on the toilet, Craig began to gently dry Kyle off, no longer being quite as harsh; suddenly touching him like he was so breakable. "Why would you need time? Our lives are together, aren't they? We shouldn't be apart, it just complicates matters."
"But I don't want to move, I don't want to live like this anymore, Craig," Kyle moaned, beginning to feel woozy from what he'd endured, the heat in the bathroom, and something else; his mind becoming sluggish and slow. "I-I don't feel good," he added, pressing a hand to his forehead. "What did you give me?"
"Moving is the best thing for us, Kyle. We both need a change of pace and scenery, and what do you mean you don't want to live like this anymore? Live like what? Loved and cherished by your husband? God, what a fucking trial." Craig laughed, standing and steering Kyle from the bathroom. "I already told you, I gave you something to help with your anxiety. It's working, I can tell."
"I can't think straight," Kyle slurred, stumbling a little as Craig led him to the bed, removing the towel and throwing it aside.
"Oh, I think you'll be thinking straight soon enough, love," Craig said, cheerfully. "Lay down on your front."
"W-why? Craig, please, I -"
"Do it, and don't argue, Kyle; for the love of God. Just fucking do what I say the first time I ask." Clearly exasperated, Craig watched as Kyle obeyed, lying down on the bed on his stomach, his head turned on the pillow and his eyes focused on his husband. "There, see? No big deal." Craig removed his t-shirt and threw it on top of his jacket, revealing his lean torso, a number of bandages wrapped around his rib cage.
"Your ribs," Kyle whispered. "Are they going to be okay?"
"Yeah, as long as I don't aggravate them too much," Craig replied, lifting up the pack of cigarettes and shaking one into his palm. "I'm sore but that's to be expected. Oh, before I forget."
Going to his bag he pulled something out, Kyle's terror kicking into overdrive when he saw what it was: a pair of shining, silver handcuffs.
"No," he gasped, attempting to move but feeling like he was wading through water, his mind swimming. "No, not the handcuffs! No!"
"Shh, it's going to be okay, Kyle. Just relax," Craig soothed him, easily holding Kyle down in his compromised state. Smoothly, he slipped the cuffs around one wrist, looped the chain behind the headboard and then fastened the other cuff on Kyle's opposite arm. Now he was immobilized on the bed, face down. "There, that's perfect."
Kyle strained against the cuffs even though it wouldn't make any difference, tears falling down his face and hating that he'd found himself in this position yet again, subject to Craig's whims and furies. In his mind he desperately called for Kenny but then his eyes drifted to the gun on the bedside table again, a sob breaking from his lips at the prospect of his husband using it to get rid of his old friend forever. Crying, he pulled until he was exhausted, the chemicals and alcohol in his blood furthering his vulnerability. Finally, he settled, staring at Craig with wide eyes as he panted, his head resting on the pillow. Craig just watched with amusement, sitting on the opposite bed and smoking a cigarette, clearly not moved at all by Kyle's desperation.
"Now that you've gotten all of that out of your system," he said, taking a drag and blowing smoke out of the corner of his mouth; tapping the cigarette against the rim of an unused plastic cup, "I have a couple of questions for you, Kyle, and I want answers; truthful answers. How do you feel about that?"
"I've already told you everything," Kyle said, his voice hitching as he stared at the cigarette in Craig's hand.
"No, you haven't, but now you will. So, let's get started, shall we?"
Kyle just nodded, his eyes never leaving the cigarette.
"We'll start out slow, from the beginning." Standing, Craig came over and sat next to Kyle, stroking a hand down his back until it came to rest on Kyle's backside; he squeezed it softly, making him cringe away. "Do you remember a little while back when your battery died at work and you tried to walk home?"
"Y-yes, I do," Kyle replied, uncertainly. God, how he loathed the games his husband liked to play; cat and mouse tête-à-têtes that always left him the loser.
"Now, as I recall it, you told me a nice older woman dropped you off," Craig continued, taking another puff on his cigarette. "A nice older woman who drove a blue truck. Do you remember that as well?"
Kyle nodded, hating the direction this was taking more and more.
"That was a lie, wasn't it?" Craig asked, softly. "Keep in mind I've read a great deal of Rose, Kyle."
Taking a deep, shuddering breath Kyle bit the bullet and answered truthfully, tears coursing down his face.
"Yes, it was. I lied about that."
"Good boy. See? This isn't so bad, is it?" Craig smiled, leaning down and kissing his shoulder blade. He paused, tracing a finger over the side that had the bruise from when he'd tried to punch Kenny and Kyle jumped in the way. "Poor baby, that must hurt."
Kyle just shrugged, not sure what to say.
"Okay, now we're getting to the really interesting stuff," Craig continued abruptly. "So, we've ascertained that you lied to me, and so well, too; I never would've guessed on my own. I'm actually pretty angry with myself over that." Reaching over, he knocked some ash off of the cigarette. "Who gave you a ride that day, Kyle?"
Kyle was trembling openly now, wishing himself far, far away but knowing that wasn't even a remote possibility.
"I-if you already read the diary, why are you asking me this, Craig? You already know the answer."
He squeaked when he felt his curls being yanked on, his husband forcing him to look him in the eyes.
"Because I want to hear the truth from your own lips, Kyle. Now answer me." He shook him a little.
"Fine, Kenny drove me home that day! It was Kenny!" Kyle breathed, his head throbbing from where Craig had pulled on his hair. "He was driving by and he saw me and he offered to drive me home! I didn't plan it or anything!"
"Right, you didn't plan it," Craig scoffed, letting him go. "Kenny just happened to be driving by at that exact time and he decided to stop out of the goodness of his heart, to save poor, downtrodden Kyle. Is that what you're telling me?"
"Y-yes, it's the truth," Kyle cried, pulling against the handcuffs again. "He wanted to help."
"He always fucking wants to help, doesn't he?" Craig seethed, lapsing into silence. It stretched on until Kyle could hardly stand it, the tension building in the room until you could practically sink your teeth into it. "Fine," he finally said, almost making Kyle sigh with relief. "I believe you. I don't know why I should, but I do. Did he try anything with you that day?"
Kyle frantically shook his head.
"No, nothing. I swear."
"Then something must have happened the next time you snuck off to see him."
Kyle froze, his tired mind working overtime trying to figure out what Craig was talking about; where his implications were coming from.
"I don't know what you mean, Craig. I'm sorry."
Standing, Craig stood and went around the bed to pick up his jacket. He slipped the diary out of the pocket and came back, sitting once more; he flipped it open and began to read:
I wanted to tell you that I fell asleep in the sunshine after Kenny left, just laid down in the grass and closed my eyes (only for a moment!) and before too long Craig was waking me up and bringing me into the house, the smell of the grass in my clothes and hair covering up Kenny's cologne...at least I hope it did. He was none the wiser about my outing today (thank God) but it left me breathless, Rose. For a moment I felt so happy (and so afraid) that I couldn't wait to tell you.
His voice was laced with controlled fury when he spoke next.
"You were right, Kyle, I was none the wiser about your outing that day, nor did I smell Kenny's cologne on you. So," he shut the diary with a snap, making Kyle jump, "enlighten me, please. Where exactly did you two go that day, and I swear to God if you let that filth in our house, I'll -"
"No, he never came inside the house! Not once!" Kyle pleaded. "We just went to get lunch, that's all!"
"Did you plan it?"
"N-no, I was outside and Kenny stopped by because I wasn't at work -"
"Why the fuck was he checking up on you at work, Kyle? What the fuck has been going on behind my back all this time?!" Craig yelled, making Kyle begin to sob uncontrollably. "Tell me, now!"
"We were just reconnecting because we hadn't seen each other in so long, Craig. We weren't doing anything else! We had lunch a couple of times, and then -"
"And you didn't think to ask me if I was okay with any of this? Huh? That never once crossed your mind?!"
Kyle lapsed into terrified silence, his tears still coming hot and fast as he tried to think of something, anything, to say that would save him from Craig's wrath.
"I didn't want to make you mad," he finally said, his voice becoming small and frail. "I know you don't like Kenny, and I know you worry -"
"I don't just dislike Kenny, Kyle; I fucking hate him. I hate him so much I wish I could fucking gut him like a fish. He knows what he's doing, sniffing around and trying to lure you away, well it isn't going to fucking happen. You hear me?!" Craig shouted.
Kyle didn't answer, just staring at Craig with teary eyes and shock. Craig reached out and took a hold of his hair again, pulling it viciously; he yelped in pain.
"Fucking answer me, Kyle! That wasn't a goddamn rhetorical question!"
"I'm not going anywhere, I promise!" Kyle screamed as Craig shook him, his head beginning to ache terribly. "Please, just stop!"
Craig did, his fingers releasing Kyle's hair as ragged breaths streamed from his mouth. Quickly, he took a drag on the cigarette. Flipping the diary open, he smirked suddenly.
"I see there's some pages ripped out of here, Kyle," he murmured, holding Rose up so he could see. "Care to tell me what was written on them? And on that token, you can tell me everything you've done with McCormick over the last couple of days."
"We didn't do anything, I keep telling you that, and there wasn't anything important written on those pages, just scribbles, and -"
"You're lying," Craig said, simply, almost regretfully. After a moment, Kyle felt a small movement and then he was arching upward in agony, bright pain lancing through his back before the smell of singed flesh reached his nostrils. The pain seemed to last forever before Craig pulled away, leaving him gasping and writhing against the scratchy hotel bedspread.
"Care to try again?" Craig asked, holding up the cherry-tipped cigarette and shaking it a little.
Kyle could only mouth wordlessly against the pain, the agony so excruciating that he hadn't even been able to scream; nausea climbing in droves up his throat. He stared at Craig with new terror; it'd been so long since he'd burned him with cigarettes like this.
"Well?" Craig asked, sucking on the cigarette until only the filter was left. He tossed it in the cup and pulled out another, lighting it.
"I-I don't know what you want to hear," Kyle finally choked out, sagging against the pillow as stray tears fell from his eyes; drool coursing from the corner of his mouth. "I mean, yes, Kenny might have kissed me on the forehead, but that was -"
"Kissed you on the forehead? Just kissed you on the forehead? Do you really expect me to believe that? Where did you two sleep, huh?"
"Well, Karen's house is kind of small, so -"
"Get to the fucking point, Kyle," Craig seethed, swiftly bringing the cigarette down on his back again; this time he did scream, his shriek lancing through the night. Craig slapped a hand over his mouth, stifling him though he didn't remove the cigarette.
"We slept in the same bed but nothing happened! I swear!" Kyle gasped out when Craig finally removed his hand and the cigarette. "I told him I couldn't do anything with him because I didn't want to hurt you!"
"So, he did try something," Craig said, softly, nodding his head. He stuck the cigarette in his mouth and stared down at Kyle's body, sudden desire flooding his eyes and making Kyle feel even more nauseated. Reaching out, he gripped Kyle's backside before languidly spreading him, his finger dipping inside and making him moan; straining against the cuffs as his back continued to burn.
"He didn't try to touch you here, huh?" Craig purred, sliding a finger in deeper, slowly.
Kyle shook his head, shutting his eyes as Craig continued to penetrate him. His heartbeat was nearly out of control now, his entire body awash in agony and fatigue. He wasn't sure how much longer he could last.
"Well, what exactly did he do then?" Slowly, another finger slipped inside of Kyle, stretching him further. "Tell me, Kyle. Tell daddy everything that happened, unless you'd like the cigarette again."
Groaning, Kyle felt himself unraveling as Craig continued to prepare him, his mind falling into a warm, complacent state; his need for survival already carrying him to his garden where he could be free. He turned his head on the pillow, eyes opening slowly but barely seeing anything.
"He told me he loves me," he whispered, beginning to drift now. "That he wanted to show me the world."
"How trite," Craig said, taking a deep drag on the cigarette and finally setting it aside, his fingers still slipping in and out of Kyle's stilled form. "Like he even understands anything about love. He can never love you like I can." He paused and slowly pulled out his fingers. Standing, he went to the traveling case and pulled something out, a small bottle. Opening it, he poured some into his hand, kneeling beside Kyle.
"You didn't tell him you loved him too, did you?" He asked almost casually as he slipped his fingers back into Kyle, slick and becoming more aggressive.
Kyle just shook his head, not wanting to disclose more; he'd already had his heart practically torn open. Gritting his teeth, he arched up again when he felt Craig press a finger against one of his cigarette burns. He sobbed, any fight he might've had swiftly draining from him.
"No, I didn't," he said, almost sighing and thanking Craig when he took his finger away from the burn. It slipped back inside of him, a second and third finger following quickly after. "I told him I could see myself maybe loving him someday...someday..."
"That day's never going to come, Kyle, I can assure you of that," Craig murmured, removing his hand and settling himself between Kyle's splayed legs. Leaning down, he gently kissed Kyle's aching back, making him shiver. "Only daddy knows how to take care of you, right? Say it."
"O-only daddy," Kyle managed to eke out, feeling a multitude of shame and bitterness and utter despair; hating himself for feeling minute amounts of pleasure. Maybe he really was a pain slut, just like Craig had always told him.
Lifting his hips, Craig began to slide his cock along Kyle's entrance, teasing him.
"Beg me to fuck you and I will, baby," Craig said, slapping his ass lightly. "Tell daddy to fuck you good and hard. Now."
"Please don't make me," Kyle sobbed, hiding his face in the pillow. "Don't make me say such filthy things!"
"But you love them," Craig laughed, reaching around and slowly pumping Kyle's cock, which was swiftly becoming erect in his hand. "See?"
"Please, I'm begging you, don't make me."
"Do it," Craig said, his voice becoming harsh. After a moment, he bit down on Kyle's backside, making him scream again.
"P-please fuck me, daddy! Fuck me!" He yelled, quickly meeting his limit and exceeding it, only wanting to be free of the pain and terror for awhile.
"You only had to ask," Craig chuckled, pushing into him now but not going slowly like he normally would; no, he thrust into Kyle completely, making him strain against the handcuffs. "God, you feel so fucking perfect. It's been a nightmare not being able to fuck you like this the last couple of days."
Kyle didn't respond, retreating to his garden where he could see the roses shining in the sun and the ocean lapping at the shore; quickly becoming lost. All at once, Craig pulled out of him before thrusting into him roughly, beginning a savage, rapid pace that pushed Kyle closer and closer to the headboard.
"My little slut," Craig breathed, truly in his element; his glory. "Daddy's little pain slut. I love you so much...so much..."
Sobbing softly, Kyle surrendered his body to Craig's designs even as his mind drifted away, hoping desperately that he would see Kenny waiting for him in his garden, arms open wide and ready to receive him; finally carrying him away.
He came to later, though he couldn't say how much time had passed, only aware that his body seemed to be nothing but pain and his hands were free from the handcuffs, curled next to his face as he lay on his side. Opening his eyes slowly, Kyle could see Craig lying next to him, face turned away on the pillow as he slept on his front, hands clenched around the pillow. They were on top of the covers, though Craig's bottom half was covered with a sheet, his back rising and falling as each deep breath poured from him; his ribs still wrapped with the bandages. Through a part in the curtains he could see that dawn had arrived, soft sunlight breaking through the blue of night; making it appear velvety and fragile.
Groggily, Kyle carefully sat up, feeling disoriented but responding to a deep instinctual need to flee, wincing when he looked down at his legs, seeing streaks of red falling down his thighs. Craig must've fucked him harder than usual; it was very rare that he actually made him bleed like that.
I have to get out of here, back to Kenny, he thought, gingerly beginning to move toward the edge of the bed. His mind was sluggish and heavy but he still needed to move, realizing too late that it had been a terrible mistake succumbing to Craig's threats of violence and retribution; knowing now that he couldn't go on like this, not when his husband couldn't control his dark preoccupations. At the very least, he needed to be away for awhile so they could attempt to mend things, but he knew that couldn't happen so long as Craig was allowed to manipulate the situation in any way he saw fit.
It's terrifying how easily he can make me fold, with just a word, a look, he thought as he carefully sat up, his back screaming at him; his backside throbbing with a deep, shameful ache. And he knows it. He has me trained like a dog.
Kyle had to fight his mind every step of the way as he clumsily pulled on a shirt and his boxer briefs, nearly falling over when he put on his jeans; his body just not behaving the way it should. He knew it had to do with whatever Craig had slipped him, but still he continued on. Craig's lessons were deeply embedded in his brain, too, screeching at him to stop acting like a damn fool and get back into bed, but he couldn't, he just couldn't. He'd tasted what freedom could be like and he wanted more, he wanted a chance to actually know love that didn't verge on destroying him.
Feeling like his window of opportunity was shrinking every moment, Kyle frantically looked around for his shoes but couldn't find them anywhere, nor could he find Craig's keys. Nearly crying now, he glanced at Craig who continued to sleep deeply, not having stirred at all while Kyle moved around the room. Clearly he'd thought of everything, just like always.
Fine, fuck it, he decided, resolutely. I'll fucking walk back to Kenny's house.
All of his nerves were on edge when he quietly opened the door and slipped outside, glancing back at Craig one last time before shutting the door. At first he tried to run but he quickly realized that his body just wasn't capable of doing that yet, so he staggered down the hallway, his hand resting against the wall the whole time to keep him upright and steady. Finally he came to the stairs and he looked at them with frustration and hatred, knowing they were going to be yet another trial but determined to conquer them. Pushing off from the wall he clutched at the railing as he shakily began his descent, praying the whole way for strength.
It almost looked like he was going to succeed when he caught his foot on something and he fell, toppling down the last few stairs and yelping with pain when he felt his ankle twist, coming to a stop at the foot of the stairs where he bumped his head hard against the concrete; making him see stars for a few seconds. For a moment he just sat, staring at the ground and trying to make sense of what was happening, wincing when he reached back and rubbed his ankle; knowing something was off, wrong. He'd almost decided to throw in the towel when he tried dragging himself, his jeans rasping against the concrete as he attempted to get to his knees so he could crawl.
"Oh, my gosh! Are you okay? Do you need help?" A maid suddenly appeared, dressed in a brown skirted uniform with a white apron over top of it. She stared down at Kyle with brown eyes filled with concern, and for a fraction of a second he wanted to unload all of his problems on her, but he didn't dare; his tongue suddenly feeling heavy as lead.
"I-I fell," he finally said, looking down at his hands and feeling horribly ashamed, though he couldn't say why. "I think I sprained my ankle."
"You poor thing. Here, do you think you could walk if I helped you?" She leaned down, placing her hands on his arm. Kyle had to will himself not to recoil, to shy away.
"I don't know," Kyle admitted, bending his leg and pushing upward, standing shakily until he put weight on his other ankle. Swiftly, he folded, falling to the ground again. "I-I'm sorry," he murmured, fighting back tears.
"Honey, don't apologize," she said, kindly, still holding onto him. Looking away, her eyes lit up. "Carl! Carl, over here!"
Glancing over, raw terror washed through Kyle when he saw who she was talking to, a sheriff walking over quickly; his face stern.
"I'm so glad you're still here," she said, gesturing to Kyle. "He hurt himself. Can you help me get him on his feet?" She looked down at Kyle. "Where's your room? We'll take you there."
"Well, it's, uh," Kyle sputtered, not even sure what to say. On an intellectual level he knew this was the perfect opportunity to speak up and save himself, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it; feeling equal parts shame, terror, and utter confusion. It didn't help that his mind was still so murky from being drugged, and his thoughts kept straying back to the gun Craig had in the room. What if he became desperate and used it?
"Son, are you okay?" The sheriff asked, taking his other arm, one eyebrow raised as he studied Kyle's face. "Can you tell us where your room is?"
"Y-yes, it's up there," Kyle replied, shakily lifting a hand and pointing to the second floor. "I fell down the stairs, sir. I was just coming down to get something from the car and I...I tripped," he finished, lamely.
The sheriff nodded, his sharp eyes still looking at Kyle's face; he could feel himself flushing.
"Have you been in a fight, son? What's your name?"
"K-Kyle, and no, no I haven't been in a fight."
"I'm just asking because your face looks pretty banged up. Do you need me to call an ambulance? Are you here alone?"
"No, he's not," Craig spoke up behind them, making the trio turn, Kyle gaping at him with wide eyes. "He's here with me, and I was worried sick. Kyle, baby, what were you thinking? If you needed something, I would've gotten it for you." He sighed, looking at the sheriff with a little shake of the head. "He's always like this first thing in the morning because of his sleep medication."
"And you are?" The sheriff asked.
"Oh, forgive me, I'm Dr. Tucker, Kyle's husband," Craig smiled, reaching out a hand. The sheriff took it and they shook, and Kyle could see the change in the man's eyes at the word "doctor." It always happened that way, as soon as a new person heard that Craig was a doctor, they immediately changed the way they treated him, almost slipping into an odd state of reverence. He'd started noticing this attitude more and more, not just toward his husband but toward doctors in general; society almost seemed to regard them in the same vein as gods, practically infallible and beyond reproach.
"It seems he fell down the stairs," the sheriff said, gesturing to Kyle while continuing to hold him up. "We were just trying to help him to his room when I noticed the bruises on his face."
Craig sighed, looking at Kyle with open compassion and regret, brushing a hand over his mouth.
"I'm afraid my husband isn't what you could consider coordinated," he sighed. "Every time I turn around he's tripped over something or fallen somehow. He's just lucky he's married to a doctor," he added, chuckling.
The sheriff grinned, his stern visage finally softening somewhat. He glanced at the maid.
"I think we'll be okay here, Maria. I'm sure Dr. Tucker and I can manage to get this young man back to his room."
"If you say so," the maid replied, glancing at Craig with narrowed eyes before looking back at Kyle. "Are you sure you'll be okay, hon?"
Quickly, Kyle's eyes flitted to Craig before he answered, and he could see the ice collecting in them, promising swift retribution if he made a misstep. Before he could open his mouth and bring about his own destruction, Kyle nodded.
"I'll be okay now that my husband is here," he said, softly. "Thank you, though."
"Okay, then," she said, somewhat reluctantly. She stepped aside and allowed Craig to take her place.
"Is there any reason you aren't wearing shoes, love?" Craig asked, pointing to his feet and smirking.
"I didn't think they'd be necessary," Kyle muttered, allowing the sheriff and Craig to help him slowly up the stairs, his ankle throbbing terribly. "After all, I was just getting something from the car."
"Well, I'll check out that ankle once you're safely back in the room. What do you think?"
Kyle gritted his teeth, once again hating himself for being so weak and whipped, his brain screaming at him to fight and to capitulate all at the same time. It was times like this that he was sure he was simply insane, because any other explanation just didn't make sense.
"That'd be great," he replied, leaning against the sheriff as Craig fished out the key card and slid it in the slot, opening the door wide. He beckoned them in with a smile on his face, flipping on the lamp and illuminating the room. Kyle's eyes darted around searching everywhere, the gun, cigarettes, and Rose nowhere to be seen. The sheriff settled him on the bed and then stepped back, studying the room as well.
"Sir, have you been smoking in here?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow at Craig.
"Okay, guilty as charged," Craig smiled, holding his hands up. "I'll let management know and offer to have the room deep cleaned."
"See that you do," the sheriff said, seemingly satisfied with this answer; Kyle could barely believe it. It was almost like Craig flew above the normal constraints of society, and people just let him, much like himself. He bit his lip and stared down at his hands, hating himself all the more for his weakness.
"You gonna be okay, son?" The sheriff asked, breaking him from his thoughts.
Once again, Kyle glanced at Craig quickly before nodding his head, even managing to crack a timid, small smile.
"I'll see to that ankle right away," Craig assured the sheriff, leaning down and kissing the top of Kyle's head. "Thank you so much for helping him, and for your service."
"No thanks needed," the sheriff replied, heading toward the door and touching the brim of his hat. "You folks have a nice day, hear?"
"We will, once Kyle's all fixed up," Craig replied, shutting the door softly behind him and looking out the peephole for a moment, finally turning back to Kyle; eyebrows raised. "Okay, just what were you trying to pull?"
Kyle shrugged helplessly, his eyes on the floor. All at once, he noticed his shoes and socks sitting in front of the dresser; they hadn't been there before. Sighing, he waited for Craig to punish him further. Instead, Craig knelt before him and rolled his pant leg up, his skilled fingers gently feeling his injured ankle.
"How does that feel?"
Kyle winced, his hands clutching at the blankets when Craig gripped his foot and tried to rotate his ankle, making him jump.
"It hurts, please don't move it," he said.
"Well, you definitely sprained it. Just great," Craig sighed, rising and going to his bag. He pulled out compression wrap and brought it back over, kneeling before Kyle again. "You're lucky I have this stuff on hand because of my ribs." Wordlessly, he began wrapping Kyle's ankle, the pressure helping to relieve some of the ache. "About you pushing me down the stairs," he added suddenly, making Kyle's heart start thudding faster in his chest, "just what the hell were you thinking, huh? You could've killed me."
"That wasn't my intention," Kyle replied, honestly. "I just..." he shrugged helplessly. "I just couldn't face the basement again, Craig."
"God, you're so melodramatic." Craig gave Kyle's ankle a little pat when he finished wrapping it, rolling his jeans back down. He studied him for a moment. "Have I mentioned how much I hate those clothes? We're throwing them out as soon as we get home, I can guarantee that."
"Craig, I really don't think it's a good idea if we go home together," Kyle said, holding onto his shirt when he tried to move away. "We're just going to keep being at odds and nothing's going to be resolved. We need space from each other, so we can both think clearly, and -"
"No," Craig interrupted, opening his bag and beginning to pack up his things. "You're so fucking transparent, Kyle. You're just trying to rationalize running back to Kenny and sinking into his white trash paradise. God, why do you want to slum it with him so badly?"
"I don't! This isn't even about Kenny! I just think we need time to reevaluate our marriage, our relationship!"
"I don't need to reevaluate anything, Kyle. I'm quite content, and you should be too. If anything, you just need to get away from people like Kenny and places like South Park. Those are the things that are fucking with your perception. What we have is perfect."
"Maybe to you, but I -"
"Kyle, I've just about reached the end of my patience with you, with this conversation," Craig cut him off, his voice low and nearly shaking with growing anger. "On top of all the shit you've pulled lately I still have to get the house ready to be sold, and now I have to find a new home even quicker than I thought. I can't deal with your childish antics along with everything else, and now you're basically an invalid, so thanks for that."
"What do you mean, find a new home quicker than you thought?" Kyle asked, his voice beginning to tremble.
"Your conduct over the last couple of days, no, the last few weeks has proven that South Park is destroying you, Kyle," Craig explained as he started to pack up all their stuff. "We need to get the fuck out of there before there's nothing left to salvage, so I'm planning on moving as early as next month."
"You can't be serious," Kyle whispered, shifting on the bed and watching with disbelieving eyes as Craig pulled the covers on the bed back, revealing the gun and cigarettes and Rose. "But I told you I don't want to go."
"Like that matters. You'll go where I tell you to, won't you? Sometimes you take the long way but you always obey in the end. Isn't that right?" Craig picked up the gun and smiled a little, putting ice in Kyle's blood. "I'd also recommend keeping Kenny out of all of this, Kyle; I'm not afraid to use this thing to make a point."
"Have you completely lost your mind?" Kyle asked. "Are you even listening to what you're saying?"
"Lost my mind? Hardly. If anything, I'm clearer than ever," Craig replied, pulling on his jacket. "You're the one that walks around acting like they don't have any sense. What were you thinking trying to run off without even having shoes on your feet?"
"I would've worn shoes if you hadn't fucking hidden them," Kyle snapped.
Swiftly, Craig slapped him across the face, his expression never even changing.
"Knock off the fucking backtalk, Kyle. I'm sick of it. And I didn't hide your shoes, you just did a piss poor job of trying to find them."
Silently, Kyle started to cry but now they weren't just tears of pain and sadness, no they were tears of rage, too.
"I'm not going with you!" He shouted. "Not back home and definitely not to Baltimore!"
"Come off it," Craig said, slipping his cigarettes and Rose into his pockets. "If you really wanted to leave you would've opened up your pretty little mouth and told that bumbling sheriff to help you, but you didn't, did you? Makes me wonder why."
"That makes it sound like you know what you're doing is wrong," Kyle hissed, crossing his arms. "You know the way you're treating me is a fucking crime, don't you?"
"Here we go with the melodrama again." Coming closer, Craig had one hand behind his back, immediately putting Kyle on edge. Getting right in Kyle's face, he held the back of his head as he kissed him deeply, not letting him move away. He pulled away, smirking. "You love it, don't you? All of it. It makes you feel wanted, needed. You love taking care of me, and you love the way I take care of you."
"You're sick," Kyle stammered, wanting to move away but knowing he couldn't; not with his fucked up ankle. "How can you even think that?"
"I read enough of Rose to glean the hidden meaning, Kyle. You've always loved playing the victim, and now you can devote your life to it, can't you? At least in your mind, of course. I know better, I always have." Suddenly, he reached down and grabbed Kyle's arm.
"W-what are you doing?" Kyle cried, trying to yank himself away but not being able to stand up to Craig's determined strength.
"I'm in the mood for a nice quiet ride home," Craig said, bringing his other arm from behind his back and revealing what he had: a loaded syringe. "This will just help that happen."
"No! Stop!" Kyle yelled, pulling away like a flailing rat caught in a trap, his entire body waking up with terror. "You can't do this!"
"Shh, it'll all be okay in just a moment," Craig said, holding him fast and quickly sticking the needle in, pushing the plunger with mesmerizing swiftness. "Just relax, Kyle."
"H-how could you...?" Kyle asked, his words already beginning to slur as Craig sat beside him, cradling him in his arms and kissing his temple softly.
"It's for your own good, Kyle," Craig said, softly, continuing to gently kiss him. "Like I said before, you're just lucky you married a doctor."