Elevator Love_Closure part 3b
By Tralla
There was no fabric ripping, but I was well taken care of. He continues to surprise me...to the degree that it took effort to pull on clothing and, right now, it's a struggle to leave the bedroom and head outside. He's in the shower and I'm on the verge of a hobble. Before he headed to the bathroom, he'd mentioned that he'd forgotten to grab the mail. He'd wiled me with carnal delights and now I'm servile.
I open the front door and head out. Before I can initiate a trek to my destination, I see movement. There's someone on the path, in my way of the mailbox. It's someone who'd stepped out as soon as I'd partly closed the door behind me. With the aid of the lampposts, I have more than enough illumination to identify the surprise visitor.
Jiro never left town. I pull the door shut. I walk forward. I want him away from the house, away from the blonde's potential sight. Despite my objective, I'm moving slowly, stepping forward with apprehension. He's watching me.
I stop several feet in front of him as I say, "You've already spoken with him. There's no reason for you to be here."
"There are details he's unaware of. I left them out, purposely."
The way we're both standing, with our hands poised over our hips, it's as though we're on the verge of a shootout. The tension is enough to affect my tone. I have a Western drawl. "What details?"
"Mr. Winner wants Raberba gone. As it stands now, he doesn't know what I am. Quatre's return--"
I get where he's going with this. "This has nothing to do with me."
"The message would be less distressing coming from you."
He doesn't want to get his hands dirty.
When I say nothing he continues, "While his father's wishes are not unreasonable, I'm not ending up in a scrap heap. He has to go back."
He's frowning and managing an expression of irritability, but I have a good guess at what's going on behind the scenes. Probably, for the first time, he has a good sense of what fear is.
I understand it. I'd had it during the hurricane. It was unsettling and unwanted. I'd pity him if I weren't stubborn.
"I'm not responsible for you."
"I don't know the circumstances, but I wouldn't have been built without you."
He's walking towards me. By the time I realize his intentions, his hands are already around my neck. He's squeezing it and frowning. I'm pushing at him, but he's barely budging. Between the two of us, he can rally more force and knows it.
It's in his voice as he says, "If you disappeared, there would be no cause for concern. There would be only one person with your features and life. But even the desire to make things easier doesn't give anyone the right to simply snuff out a problem, even an animatronic one. Like you, I won't have my existence stolen."
His hands relax. I can push him off now, and I do. His expression has changed. It's blank, intentionally vacant. He's shown me enough. I back away. I give him a look that tells him to keep his distance. Not that it can do much. I use a verbal deterrent as backup. "I get it." It isn't a lie. It's clear. We're both troublesome, but neither of us deserves to get bumped off.
He's staring. "Advise him to go back."
"It's his decision."
"You can influence him."
"I'm not interested."
He looks ready to strangle me again. Finally he says, "I've brought something unnecessary. Agree to give it to him. It's something he left behind."
He handed me a tie and now I'm a delivery boy.
I'm in the bedroom and the blonde is out of the shower and sitting on the bed. He's looking at his alarm clock. I'm in front of him. I pass the tie to him. He gives me a questioning look as I say, "You forgot that."
His brow wrinkles. "It's mine?"
"It's not mine," I respond.
"So…it must be mine." He still looks doubtful.
I walk away. I'll hit the shower.
When I return to the bedroom, some fifteen minutes later, the tie is under rigorous scrutiny. I'm pulled into the observation. My gaze is fixed on it. It could be the color that's causing a problem on his end. I shouldn't care; it has to be boredom, but I can't name the color. It looks like a burnt red with a bluish tint.
My attention goes back to the blonde. He's holding the tie as though he's found a dead snake and is trying to identify what species it is. He's frowning as he says, "It feels like my head is splitting."
Before heading to bed, I'd gone around to switch off all the lights. I'd stopped by the front door. I'd lingered there before giving into instinct. I'd brought my face towards the keyhole and peered outside. That bastard droid was still out there standing. He wasn't staring at the house. But he was there, watching the road and not crossing. It'd been a half an hour since I'd left him.
He might still be there in the morning. I'll get up early to deal with him. Those were my thoughts when I'd first joined the blonde in bed. Those thoughts, teamed up with another one, gave me more than enough reason to be vigilant.
It's night and the blonde took the painkillers but not the sleeping aid, a change in habit.
It's the middle of the night and, just a minute ago, he'd left the bed quietly, without knowing that I'd never fallen asleep. He'd closed the door softly behind him. He wouldn't have done that if he were simply going to the bathroom or grabbing a glass of water. He'd closed the door.
I'm out of the bed.
I left the house through the back door and circled around to the side. Once again, the lamp posts give me enough illumination to see more than I'd like.
The blonde and Jiro are together, standing, facing each other. It occurs to me that, somehow, the blonde knew that he'd be out here, waiting. I can't be surprised. He has the uncanny ability to know things he shouldn't.
But there are also things that he should know but doesn't. I've made a half-assed attempt at hiding myself. I don't lurk in the shrubbery. I want to be seen. But I'm wasting my time. Once again, he's oblivious to me. It was like this on the morning of the hurricane. I was feet away yet undiscovered, unnoticed, unconsciously ignored.
The blonde is stepping closer to Jiro. It's at that moment that I realize he has a tie in his hands. It could be the one I'd handed to him earlier. "I remembered this," he says to Jiro. He places the tie around his neck. "On you, of course."
Jiro reaches out and touches him on the cheek. The motion is brief…but tender. It's as though he's verifying what the blonde has already shown him: they're back where they left off 5 months prior. The motion is replayed in my head. The blonde accepted his touch without a flinch, as though it was something he wanted or saw coming.
"I owe you an apology, Jiro. No…more than that. Make any request."
"Prevent your projects from being destroyed."
Projects…he's trying to mask his unease.
"You came…to seek protection," responds the blonde as he pulls the tie away. It's dangling between them as he says, "I'll go back…without any complaints."
"And him?" Jiro looks in my direction.
Without turning my way, the blonde replies, "He can do as he wishes."