A/N: Hope you like it. The app, though, gives me quite a trouble whenever I want to update. If you see any paragraph being repeated, or a para missing, well, it's not my fault... Huh... this is my, I don't know which time ediitng this again. All the edits just keep getting deleted!
Thanks to the Guest for yet another review! I am so grateful! :)
Chapter 19
(Cold Blood)
Tala stood up abruptly from where he was sitting, his eyes watching the others expressions almost fearfully, the letter falling down from his hands.
Kai threw down his backpack and stepped towards him, his darkened eyes narrowed down, giving off a scary look.
He grabbed the redhead by the collar and brought him closer to himself, glaring right down into the cerulean eyes that now flickered with hesitance and fear.
"Kai, I didn't mea-"
A punch was thrown at his face with full force, making the lithe body stagger backward. He slowly brought a hand up to touch the cheekbone that now burned with pain.
"Get the fuck out of my sight," he snarled out, voice harsh and cold.
"Kai, lis-"
Another punch met his chest, making him fall down.
"Don't make me repeat myself," he said, towering over him. Tala flinched at the harsh, deadly look he was receiving.
He was grabbed by the collar again and hauled up, before being thrown down in the direction of the door.
He stumbled over the floor, his breathing now harsh, pain setting in his body from the blows, before collecting himself and reluctantly reaching the door, gazing back at Kai once again with guilty eyes, but the icy, glare hadn't lessened its intensity.
He slowly took himself out of the room, regretting his actions with a heavy heart, his body trembling from the shock.
After throwing the door close forcefully in his rage, the bluenette leaned back against it, his breathing getting erratic all of a sudden.
His hate filled eyes slowly transformed to panic as an overwhelming wave of fear and anxiety hit his mind.
He slid down against the door, replaying the scene repeatedly in front of his eyes, as if in an order to convince himself of something he couldn't yet believe.
How could- How could, Tala, out of anyone, do this?
Another wave of pain hit his chest, making him wince.
His dulled eyes fell on the letter still lying on the floor, a small gust of wind coming in and turning it around, before making it shift a little closer to him.
His almost trembling hand picked it up, not daring to read.
He scrunched it up and threw it in the far corner of the room, loathful eyes watching it fall near the open balcony doors.
His head leaned back against the wooden door, his mind in a deep turmoil.
How could he?
How could he break that privilege and stoop to levels he never even imagined he would?
He knew. It wasn't that he had accidently found them lying around. He had intentionally turned locks he wasn't supposed to look through. He wasn't supposed to look into things that were not for him.
What had he read? The letters were never too big, but that was the thing about them. A few lines must have contained a lot of information. Information that he wasn't supposed to receive. Things he wasn't supposed to know.
Then why?
He himself hadn't had one look at them, ever. He didn't trust himself with anything. He didn't know if he may be manipulated by whatever would be written inside and be lulled by Voltaire. He didn't want to lose control, but he knew the moment he would read anything Voltaire wanted to tell him, something would happen. Whether it would be caused by anger, hate, or by stupidity.
He wanted no contact with him. He was a little more relieved to give himself the false belief that he was dead.
He didn't know why, but unlike before, his hate for Voltaire had simmered to a disappointment, some longing, some foreign feeling he knew nothing about.
It was as if the Voltaire the world knew had completely vaporized, leaving behind it something that he was both scared and intimidated by.
He didn't want to ever see the man, but once in a while, a thought would strike in his head. He would calculate in his head how long it would take to go there, how he would look after being in prison for many months, what expression he would be wearing on seeing him. Would it be triumph as he had gotten him to obey him, or would it be hate for not helping out, or would it be guilt? What would he say to him?
The thoughts scared him, because he knew that chances were, one day he may go there, in order to get an answer to his long unanswered questions. And what he would do after knowing them, he didn't want to imagine.
It was his own fucking fault. Why hadn't he thrown them away already? What the fuck was he treasuring them for?
He ran a hand through his hair, gripping his head as it throbbed with pain.
He looked up at the still open wooden box, one he had never thought someone other than him would touch, the opened lid seemed now to yell at him, throwing the betrayal right into his face.
What else had he looked through? He looked over at the other things in his room. They didn't seem to be tampered with, but who knew? He couldn't trust him anymore.
The thought put him in melancholy. He could never have expected the redhead, out of all people, to search through his things behind his back.
If he had come just a little later, the redhead must have put the letters and the box back in their places, and continued acting like he knew nothing.
Then again, he thought to himself, it's not him, it's me, why would I ever trust someone that much? Why would I expect anyone not to break it afterwards?
But, a little voice whispered in his mind, Tala isn't just anyone. Which fact infuriated him even more.
Why did the redhead even come here? To snoop around? To go through his stuff just to test him?
He didn't trust him, none of them did. No wonder Bryan was always so pissed off at him all the time. None of them cared. They still thought of him as a traitor, a liar. What else would someone do in their place anyways?
It was his fault, all his fault.
He groaned loudly, pulling at his hair, blaming himself for everything, his mind getting exhausted from the overthinking.
To an outer person, it may not have looked like a big issue, just a slip up, why, the redhead must have gotten curious, besides, -he- wouldn't do anything to hurt him, no, he was just overthinking. His reaction was too dramatic. He was too paranoid.
But he himself was too far from acknowledging these facts.
For him, just one incident like this was able to make him recall every single thing that had happened to him, and where, in all of them, he was the only one to blame. How all of those things could have been avoided if, -he- hadn't been born.
Thoughts stacked up one over the other until he was physically incapable of creating one rational thought, converting a seemingly harmless matter into a very serious issue and terrifying him.
A loud knock at the door jerked him out of his reverie, which was followed by a faint voice, "Master, are you alright?"
His body went rigid, and he straightened himself up, shaking his head to bring himself into reality.
"Master?"
He cleared his throat, before croaking out, "I'm alright. Go away," his voice laced with hoarseness.
He heard fading footsteps on the other side of the door, indicating Vladimir's departure.
He sighed tiredly and stood himself up shakily, the action making him acknowledge the fatigue and restlessness settled in his body, along with the pounding headache.
As he stood up, his eyes went dizzy, head spinning a little, before he grabbed onto a wall to steady himself.
Reaching the desk, he glared hatefully at the box, before picking it up and emptying the contents on the floor in a pile.
He kicked the other scrunched up letter into it before pulling a lighter and bringing the flame closer to an edge of a letter, the fire catching on to it soon after.
His eyes narrowed as the letter started slowly turning black and cracking into ashes, before throwing the lighter down harshly, breaking it from the impact.
He pulled the door open and took himself out, slamming it roughly close, making it bang against the door frame and open once again.
A few seconds later, a strong wind started blowing, bringing with it a heavy pouring of rain almost instantly. Such another strong gust blew once again across the room, extinguishing the blooming fire in its way.
Three pairs of eyes stared worriedly at him through the screen, while he fumbled over his words, fidgeting with his hands.
"Goddamnit, Tala! Say something already!"
The redhead flinched and looked up at them, watching their expecting eyes fixed on him.
He was sitting down on the floor, in one of the rooms Vladimir had shown to him on the first day they had come here, but that he had used rarely.
Outside, the howling wind accompanied with the relentless rain was creating an almost scary scenery.
"He's going to kill me," he let out, almost too slowly for them to catch on.
"What did you do?" Ian piped up, the three faces now raising curious eyebrows.
"I-," he looked down again, "I did something really stupid."
A bang was heard from the other side, Bryan hitting the coffee table in frustration.
"Just spit it out already," he growled at him.
"Well,-" he started, just in time for a large bolt of thunder to roar in the sky.
He turned back to the screen , starting slowly, "The thing is, since imprisonment, Voltaire has been sending letters to Kai, but he said that he never read them. I didn't know that he kept them though."
Little gasps of surprise were heard, before the three fell quiet to let him continue.
"Today, Kai had gone to school, and I was getting bored. So I thought of finding something to read, and went to his desk. In one drawer, I found a box in which he kept those letters, locked. I read one, a bit. And he came back right at that moment," he stopped, biting his lip, his weak voice indicating the guilt and turmoil he was wrapped in.
He lifted his head up, almost shyly looking at them, who were yet to say anything.
A moment later, Bryan clapped sarcastically, "Way to go, Tala."
"Yeah, way to go," Ian repeated after him.
Spencer shook his head at them before looking at him in concern. The redhead did seem very down.
"Where is he now?"
"I have no idea. He threw me out of the room and since then I haven't seen him. I think he has gone out."
"Didn't you say it was raining there?"
"As if that would hold him back," Bryan rolled his eyes at Ian.
Spencer himself rolled his eyes at them before smacking them over their heads.
"Shut up you two!"
They quietened down and looked back at Tala who was staring off into space.
"Tal?"
"I made it worse for him," he whispered sadly, "He's never going to trust me."
"Why would you even do that, Tala? You know best how fucking sensitive he is," Bryan let out.
"I know. It's my fault…"
He sighed tiredly and ran a hand through his hair, "What should I do? Should I come back?" he asked in a desperate voice.
"That'd be stupid thing to do, Tal," the blonde replied, "You should stay and try to solve this."
"Yeah, what the fuck were you even thinking, Tal?"
"Stop it, Bryan," Spencer scolded him.
"Why should I stop? He always argues with us over him, and now he himself-
Spencer put a hand over Bryan's mouth, effectively shutting him up, and glaring warningly at him.
Bryan yanked his hand away and returned his glare, muttering under his breath.
Though the sentence had been cut off, Tala had heard the unsaid words in his own mind, and he knew that they were true.
He dropped his head down again, guilt rippling through his heart.
"Tal?"
He looked up again, his eyes full of pain, making them feel sympathetic for him.
They knew how important the bluenette was to him. And there was a big difference between a reckless fight and a serious argument, for which one even admitted to be guilty.
"Look Tala. You need to talk to him and apologize. But right now, I think you should just give him time," Spencer advised him.
Tala shook his head, his face twisting into a miserable expression, "I have a feeling, guys, I do. Something wrong is happening."
"What are you talking about?"
He shook his head again, hugging his knees, "I feel he's not alright. I hurt him."
They exchanged concerned looks, what way was there to console the redhead?
"You shouldn't overthink, Tal. Everything's going to be alright," the blonde said softly, to which Tala nodded slightly.
"Even if it doesn't, I know it's my fault."
Bryan huffed exasperatedly before giving him a pointed look, "Fucking stop that, Tala, it doesn't suit you."
Tala sighed and whispered, "Ok bye, I'll call later," before hanging up, his gaze falling on the window, which held back the billowing wind bringing with itself the tremendous rain.
His shoes hit the puddled pavement rhythmically, creating sloshing sounds with each step.
The road was empty, and the street lamps were not turned on, there was an unblemished darkness all around.
He was soaked to the core due to the heavy rain, making his body shiver once in a while when a gust of wind would pass by him, though, the rain had gone down somewhat, drizzling calmly now.
He didn't seem to realize, though, as he was lost in his own non ignorable thoughts.
It had been nearly an hour since he had been walking around aimlessly through random lanes, amidst the onslaught of rain.
His mind recalled the scene again and again, embedding it into his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to forget it, or something that was more probable, think it was all a dream.
Maybe it really had been a dream. He wasn't too well aware of things happening to him, let alone around him, these past few weeks.
Maybe it was. Yes, maybe.
The maybe ruined it, making him realize bitterly that it wasn't.
He couldn't yet believe that, Tala-
No way, it must surely have been a dream.
Only he realized that convincing himself like a kid was of no use. He knew it wasn't.
He just wanted the redhead as far away from him as possible. Why was he here anyway? It had been a week since he had been here, why the fuck didn't he leave him alone? Maybe, if he hadn't even come in the first place, his trust wouldn't have been broken so roughly.
The emotions swirling around in his mind were overwhelming him. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what he was feeling.
Was it anger? Definitely. He wanted to punch that fucking face again. Those eyes, so innocent, yet so-
Or, was it pain? One that he had felt piercing through his chest on locking upon the redhead reading the letters? Was it betrayal? Something he had never ever expected from the redhead?
What was it?!!
He kicked an empty can in his way, making it strike against the nearest wall and come right back from the impact. He growled and pressed his foot over it, flattening it out.
The rain was getting heavier once again, the ear-shattering thunder the only sound to be heard in the deserted dark streets.
Feet coming to a rest, he looked around to see where he had reached. Funny, he thought, it was the lane running along the back of the mansion. How did he reach here again? He didn't want to go inside.
He let out a dark scoff remembering the conversation he had with the redhead exactly a day ago.
'We're all here for you.'
Lies, all fucking lies.
His eyes hardened, making up a decision in his head, before looking up at the mansion, the crimson eyes narrowing in hate.
Come morning the redhead was awakened by an almost abrupt knocking on the door.
He rubbed his eyes and groaned as his neck made its aching known to him. He realized he had fallen asleep while sitting down.
He stood up and straightened his back, the action bringing his attention towards the aching muscles where he had been hit.
He winced a bit and went towards the door, opening it slightly so as not to show him his full face, the half side of which was surely messed up.
Vladimir had come to call him for breakfast. He nodded to him and went back inside.
He slowly made his way to the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror and looking into his own dull eyes.
His left cheek was burning painfully, the entire skin reddened and swollen.
The events of the previous day were slowly rewinding in his mind one after another, filling his heart with even more guilt.
He had hurt Kai…
The thought kept circling his mind over and over again, making him overwhelmed.
He was scared, downright terrified. Building bridges wasn't ever easy. Kai had made the first attempt, the hope of which recurring was almost impossible.
Was this going to be the end? Once again, was Kai going to become a stranger?
A sharp spark of raw pain flew through his head, making him wince harshly, before it faded away slowly. He groaned.
The hate-filled eyes…
He shook his head. He had to find Kai, apologize to him. Whether he would be forgiven or not, was a thought to dwell on later.
Although he did admit that the anticipation of what was awaiting him fretted him so much he was almost numb with it, the panic fully settled into each nerve of his body.
He took himself out of the room, heart full of fear, mentally preparing himself for the moment that came all too soon.
Stepping down the stairs, one hand clutching the now fully throbbing head, his eyes widened as they locked onto the bluenette who was making his way up, phone held to his ear, talking in a low rough voice.
The crimson eyes landed on him, narrowing into a glare. He ended the call and resumed his walking, brushing past him, but was stopped by a hand holding his arm, though almost too weakly.
"Kai, please!"
His glare intensified in its hate as he yanked the hand away, his face twisting into a disgusted frown.
"We're done, Ivanov. I don't want to ever see you again!!"
The bitter words pierced through the redhead's heart, a sharp twinge of pain making itself known in his chest.
He followed with his numb eyes the other's retreating back before a sharp slam was heard as Kai closed the door to his room none too gently.
Tala clutched his head as another painful twinge went through his head, the world spinning around him.
He looked down, his vision blurring, landing a foot on a step that he supposed was there, only to be met by empty air. The foot slipped and his body stumbled, and in his dizziness he didn't think of holding the railing, resulting in him tumbling down.
As his trembling body reached the hard marble floor, his head struck sharply against it, making him lose consciousness.
"What was that?" Vladimir asked the cook, just when a thump resounded nearby.
The cook shrugged, laying the knife down quickly and went hurriedly towards the stove to stir the soup. Meanwhile Vladimir walked out to see if his ears had fooled him.
As his eyes landed on the figure lying completely still at the foot of the stairs, he rushed over, panic filling his eyes as he locked onto the blood pooling around the crimson hair.
"My God…"