CHAPTER XIII
How long had they been driving for, an hour? Time was neither slow nor fast for Matthew as he sat in the backseat with Toris. At one point, Ismael had pulled out a cigar, and the secondhand smoke burned his throat just from breathing the air. Whether it was the air conditioning or Ivan's presence, the temperature was cold, and they shivered, huddling close to each other.
Matthew gazed out the window and realized they were in New York City, with all of its flashing lights and attractions. To him, it only meant he was closer to walking the streets again, and it was a thought he had to shun from his mind. It would take awhile to get his apathetic exterior up and running again after being in disrepair for a month and a half.
As they drew closer to their destination, the Canadian recognized more and more establishments, and his heart seared. Back to the days of use and-
…And they just sped right past the hotel.
"Ismael, what's going on?" Matt asked, puzzled.
"What do you mean?"
"Why didn't you stop? The hotel's back there."
"That's not where we're going," Ismael answered nonchalantly.
His confusion grew until he felt Toris's hand in his, shaking rather violently. When he looked to the Lithuanian, he gasped loudly as he saw Toris was convulsing, his eyes wide open and focused on the floor of the van. "Toris, what's wrong?"
"W-W-W-" he stuttered, his lips too unfeeling to form sounds, "W-We're g-going there…"
"'There'?"
"I-I-Ivan's h-house…"
Matthew froze, an intense fear taking over. He knew the meaning of that: they were going to be brutally punished. Not that he shouldn't have expected such a penalty, as they had run away from the ring, but the mere thought of what awaited them…the scars on Toris's back…he'd be lying if he said he wasn't terrified.
With minor traffic problems, Ismael pulled into a secluded Queens neighborhood within twenty minutes. Matthew let his eyes wander along the streets, and he noticed how sparsely spread apart the houses were. Some of them even appeared to be uninhabitable. When the van began to slow, Matthew looked out the window and saw the dwelling located on the corner of the block.
It was a colonial-style house, with layers of white overlapping each other on the outer walls. The gray-shingled roof was split, with part of it slanted over of the second level, the other section flat atop the first. Shaded by a small overhang to guard if from whatever sunlight it would receive, the front door looked anything but welcoming. A lonely steel fence surrounded the house, entangled with dead sunflowers drooping dreadfully over the railings and onto the sidewalk.
"Welcome home," Ivan stated as the Cuban turned off the ignition.
. . .
Alfred and Elizaveta got off the bus at their stop, along with several other students. The vehicle pulled away and the two friends walked in the direction of his house, the rest going the other way. Once they were around the corner, Eliz smiled and pulled her video camera out of her bag.
"Eliz, are you serious?" Al groused, knowing she was going to badger him about the previous weekend. "Don't you need to hang out with Gil or Rod or someone?"
"Gil's in detention and Rod's taking a make-up test. I want to know what happened on Saturday."
"I already told you: nothing happened."
"Please, I know you left out the good stuff. Everyone else is out of earshot, so this is the perfect opportunity." Focusing the lens on him, she continued, "So tell me, how did things really go when you were alone with Matt?"
"We just sat around and talked; nothing special."
"Really? About what?"
"I told you: Matt said that Toris was staying with Feliks, and that he wanted to stay at my house, so I said yes."
"Well, didn't you need your dad's permission? After all, he's the one that owns the house."
"Yeah, I know."
"Well, wasn't he coming home late? When did he actually get home?"
"I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know?" Elizaveta inquired, enjoying cornering her friend like this. She had him on the ropes; all he needed was a little pushing.
"I came downstairs in the morning, and Matt and my dad were already in the kitchen, sorting everything out. I don't know the exact time he got home."
"All right, well, the point is you knew you had time because he wouldn't be home until very late."
"Eliz, would you just come out and say it?"
"Fine," she conceded, putting on her most complacent smile. "I wanna know who topped."
Blushing furiously, Alfred sputtered, "N-Nobody! I told you-"
"Al, give it up," she interrupted, zooming in on his flustered face. "I can see right through you, so don't even think of giving me more of this 'nothing happened' crap. Again, I'm asking you: who topped?"
Alfred sighed exasperatedly, stopping in his tracks. Knowing he was going to regret this, he asked, "…Define 'topped'."
"Y-You don't know what it means?" Eliz snickered.
"No, it's just…there's a situation where someone could be thought of being…on top, but he's the one, um, being…done."
When her mouth dropped open, the American groaned in frustration and continued walking. "So that's how you guys did it?" Elizaveta asked as she followed him, the excitement prevalent in her voice.
"I never said that!"
"Oh, I see why you're denying everything. You don't want to admit that you bottomed."
"I did not bottom!"
"You admit it!" Eliz shrieked, shooting her arm into the air in victory. "I knew it! I knew you had sex, and I knew you topped!"
"Augh, please don't shout things like that for everyone to hear. And if you knew that, why the hell did you ask me?"
"Hello, my documentary? It's better if it comes out of your mouth; not mine."
After giving his friend an irritated look, Alfred climbed the porch stairs. "Yeah, well now I have to explain to Matt why I let that get on tape and…" his voice trailed off as he glanced to his feet, one of them stepping on something. Curious, he moved his sneaker and his sky blue eyes widened. "…What's Matt's key ring doing here?"
"Huh?" Elizaveta asked, still filming as the boy looked confusedly at the metal hoop. "Hey, the key's missing."
Worry arising in the back of his mind, the American tried to open the front door, but it wouldn't budge. "It's still locked." He pulled out his own key ring and undid the lock, pushing the door open. Before Alfred could step inside, his eyes caught the sheet of paper abandoned on the floor.
"What's that?" Eliz inquired, looking over his shoulder at the typed note with a signature at the end.
"Alfred, I am sorry for causing you so much trouble. Toris and I have decided to leave together. I only hope that you can go back to your normal life. Love, Matthew."
"…Wh-What?" she uttered, her attention then stolen by the trembling fingers clenching the paper. "Al?"
He stormed inside, screaming, "Matthew? Matthew!"
"Al!" Elizaveta called after him, quickly shutting off her camera and closing the door behind her. She watched him run through the rooms shouting for his lover. At first, she thought he was enraged, but soon she caught a glimpse of his face.
How many words could she use to describe that look? Concern, devastation, on the verge of a mental breakdown…all of these perfectly delineated what she saw in his pained expression.
Finally, the Hungarian caught up to him, grabbing his arm in an attempt to stop him from darting all over the house. "Al!" she yelled at him, forcing his focus onto her. "Al, you have to calm down."
"…Wh-Why did he leave?" Alfred asked her, his voice quiet and wavering, like a child on the brink of tears. Elizaveta looked to him compassionately, guiding him to the sofa so he could sit down. Letting him cry on her shoulder, she rubbed his back soothingly, understanding how distraught the boy was.
"Shhh," she whispered, sympathetic with the hitched breath accommodating his sobs.
"I-I don't- I don't underst-stand…H-He said he'd stay…He- He said he- he loved me, Eliz. Wh-Why? Why w-would he just u-u-up and g-go?"
The more she thought about it as she comforted Alfred, the less it made sense. It was completely unlike Matthew to do something like this, and the note…there was something so amiss about that letter.
Elizaveta gave him time to cry it out, and once he'd been reduced to sniffling, she took out her phone. "…Should we check in on Feliks? I wonder if he knows yet."
"W-We probably should," Alfred agreed, nodding his head as he wiped away his tears.
Hesitantly, she went through her contacts and called the Pole's home phone, making sure it was on speaker. The call went through after a few rings, with Feliks answering, "…H-Hello?"
"Feliks? This is Elizaveta. Remember Saturday?"
"L-Like, yeah," he replied, and she could tell from the occasional sniffles that he had to know.
"…I guess you got a note from Toris."
"H-How-?"
"We got one from Matthew," Eliz explained. "We just got home and that's when we found it."
"I, like, came b-back from sh-shopping, and he was…was g-gone. I'm t-totally confused, like seriously. R-Right before I l-left, we were all, 'See you soon', you know?"
"I-I know what you- you mean," Al empathized.
"…That's what makes this so strange," Eliz thought aloud. "And…just think about the notes."
"Wh-What about them?" the American asked.
"Besides the signature, the rest is typed. Don't you find that weird? Don't you think he'd just write the whole thing out with pen? Why bother going to the computer?"
"That's, like, t-totally weird," Feliks stated, looking at the letter left behind at his apartment. "Toris's n-note is, like, also typed, except where he wr-wrote his name."
"Are you serious?"
"S-Serious to the max. But, what's r-really weird is that…I can't believe I, like, just noticed this, but I don't have a computer. I totally can't afford one, even with what I get paid."
"So, what, they both came over here to print out these letters together?" Alfred tried to piece together. "That's so unnecessary."
"…Feliks, what does it say?" Elizaveta asked him.
"It says, 'Feliks, I am sorry for causing you so much trouble. Matthew and I have decided to leave together. I only hope that you can go back to your normal life. Love, Toris."
"…That's exactly what this note says," Alfred informed them, baffled. "You just have to exchange the names."
"This doesn't make any sense at all," Eliz declared. "They go through all this effort of typing up the same note and printing it, only to sign their names at the end. Not only that, but don't you think they'd personalize their own notes? These notes are so…generic. Why is that?"
Alfred's eyes dilated, the blue irises instilled with fear as his friend realized he was quivering again. "Al, what's wrong?"
"…They're generic because they were written by the same person, and it's not either of them."
"Al?"
"The ring must have found them," he concluded, glancing to her with even more anguish than before.
"Al, you can't just jump to reckless assumptions like that-"
"It's not reckless!" he argued. "Wh-Whoever controls them must have written these to throw us off- God, this is just like those crime shows!"
"That's, like, totally worse…" Feliks construed, gripping his blonde locks.
"Alfred, I understand what you're saying, and your scenario makes a lot more sense than what we've been thinking..."
"Eliz, that's exactly my point. I don't think Matt and Toris would've done this in their free will. …It's gotta be the ring…oh God…"
"…All right, let's assume that for now. So, what are we supposed to do?"
"What if we took this to the police?" Alfred suggested.
"I don't know if that's going to work-"
"Of course, it totally won't work," the Polish boy retorted. "They're the fucking police, for God's sake. They, like, don't give a damn what happens to us whores."
"Feliks, what are we supposed to do?" Alfred fought. "We don't have the authority to search the streets for them! We don't have weapons, we don't have bullet-proof vests; we're completely useless right now! Whoever's in control of them has to be dangerous and manipulative, and even if we knew where they are, we'd have no idea how to handle the situation!"
"The police, like, don't know where they are either."
"But they have experience in crime, and we don't! …Feliks, I understand why you hate the police, and I know that not all of them are good, but we don't have any other choice at this point. We have to trust them."
"We need another perspective on this before we go to the police," Elizaveta contended. "Someone with a better understanding of how things work in law enforcement than we do."
"…Wait, doesn't Gil's brother work with the police?"
She sat there, staring at him for a few seconds. "…Oh my God, I can't believe I'm saying this, but we need Gil. The only problem is he's still in detention, and he won't get out until 4:00."
"God," Alfred complained, "why didn't he just blow it off?"
"…I wouldn't put it past him. Feliks, I'm gonna try to reach Gilbert. Why don't you come on over?"
"It'll, like, take me awhile to get there. I'll have to walk."
"All right, I'll try to make him pick you up. I'll call you back to confirm. Bye."
"Like, bye."
Ending the call, Elizaveta immediately dialed in the albino's number to save time. "Come on, Gil…" she pleaded, "pick up…pick up…"
"Hey, babe. Why you calling?"
"Gilbert, thank God!" she cried out, for once grateful that he was breaking the rules. "Look, we need your help. Get over here."
"Where?"
"Alfred's house, you dumbass! Oh, and you have to pick up Feliks."
"What? I don't know where that hooker lives!"
"He lives in that apartment complex next to the lot where the farmer's market is. I'll make sure he's waiting outside."
"But-"
"No buts, unless you want me to stick a frying pan up yours. Look, I'll explain when you get here, and you are coming here and you will pick up Feliks because this is an emergency. Do you understand me?"
"All right, all right. No need to get violent. I'll be there and I'll go get him, okay?"
"Thank you, Gil. …You're awesome."
Surprised by her flattery, Gilbert chuckled and replied, "…You're welcome, babe."
"Don't push it."
. . .
The sound of two people squabbling caught Elizaveta's attention, and she opened the front door to see what the commotion was about. Gilbert and Feliks were yelling about something, and she just rolled her eyes and commanded them inside. "Gil, what the hell did you do?" she accused as they walked through the door.
"Hey, he started it," Gilbert defended himself. "I was just trying to make small talk, and he went all PMS over me."
"I'm totally a guy, you dick! I don't, like, get PMS! And, like, last time I checked, asking how much I get paid on the streets is totally rude."
"Well, you didn't need to 'totally' flip out on me! God, why're you so fucking emotional?"
The moment Gil finished speaking, it was apparent that tears were welling in the Pole's eyes. Elizaveta slapped Gil across the face, shouting, "He has a right to be emotional! We all do! For once, could you read the damn atmosphere?"
Rubbing at the mark forming on his cheek, the albino looked over to Alfred on the sofa, who appeared to be a nervous wreck. "…All right, what am I missing here?"
Elizaveta sighed, taking the near identical notes from Al and Feliks and handing them off to Gilbert. After scanning over the papers, he gazed at her with a mix of shock and confusion, asking, "…They left?"
"…We think that the human trafficking ring they escaped from might have taken them back and left these here to mislead us."
"Well, that's definitely more likely," Gilbert reasoned. "These notes are so formal: there are no contractions. Not to mention the fact that they're practically the same."
"S-So," Alfred began, "since your brother's in law enforcement, we were wondering if you could tell us if the police could do anything."
Gilbert sighed, and the American's heart sank immediately. "…I'm sorry, but it's not enough."
"What?" Al roared, jumping up from the couch. He grasped the albino's shirt and yanked him down to his height. "Why fucking not?"
"Alfred, you've got-"
"My Matthew, my pure Matthew is out there somewhere-"
"Alfred-"
"-And I don't know if he's already getting raped by some filthy bastard-"
"Al-"
"-Whose filthy hands could be all over his-"
"Alfred, listen to me!" Gilbert shouted, getting the boy to shut up. "…Al, I know you're upset, and I'm sorry, but you have to think realistically. If you went to the police right now with these papers, and while I'm sure they'd find them suspicious, they're going to pass it off as an elopement or something. The police don't know them like we do, you don't know where they are, and you don't have any other evidence to support foul play. Also, you don't know when they left, so searching for them is pretty much impractical. If they left right after we went to school, who knows where they could be by now?"
"No, they, like, couldn't have left then," Feliks argued. "I last saw Toris at eleven in the morning. Then I went shopping for, like, three hours, and when I returned at two, he wasn't there anymore."
"Still, unless you get some other evidence, these notes and that timeline aren't really going to help. The ringleader's smart; it's like he knew that and made these just to rub it in our faces. …I'm sorry, guys."
Slowly, Alfred lowered his head and let go of Gilbert's shirt. He walked away from them into Matthew's room and shut the door. Feeling empty and useless, he flopped down onto the bed, the bed that carried Matthew's beautiful scent. There was a slight discomfort in laying his head on the pillow, but he couldn't care less. That one sliver of hope had disappeared, replaced with only despair.
He wondered if this was what Matthew had felt like for those three tainted years of his life.
