Aureate Fates

36

    OLD GHOSTS MOVE THE SAME

                                     —DREW—

He could smell the foulness of Fenton's scent. Sour, and artificial. He taunted him with scent alone, yet Drew couldn't physically see Fenton.

Drew knew he was here in the palace. He knew he would come for him.

Drew couldn't move from his spot in the corner of his work room. He hadn't been able to for the last few hours, when he had first inhaled the scent that haunted his nights.

His bruises were only beginning to vanish, his pale skin replacing green and purple. He remembered every detail about how his lesions were brought about. He thought that at least in Verskyia, he could find peace.

And rest, and love.

But Fenton was back. And Drew had abandoned all the independence he seemed to gain here, in this grand palace.

He could not move.

Drew watched the door, awaiting Fenton's arrival, which he knew was coming. He felt it. But a noise within the room caught his attention.

From underneath his worktable, a shadow moved. Slowly, a rocking motion. Then it stopped. Drew gripped the counter behind him, gulping.

In one terrifying move, Fenton revealed himself from underneath the table, eyes too bright. At first, he only stood there.

"I like watching you, my dear boy," Fenton's mouth moved, but his voice was void of any emotion.

Drew's heart fell as he realized Fenton had been watching him for hours. Hours, and hours, and hours.

Drew screamed, something panicked and foreign erupted from him. He wanted to close his eyes, and let sleep claim him. But this was not one of his nightmares, it was something much worse.

Fenton closed the distance between them and clamped a hand over Drew's mouth. "Don't be frightened of me," he whispered.

Drew only stared, keeping still. When Fenton lowered his hand, Drew didn't let the slightest sound escape him, even as he took in the hollow pools of black that became Fenton's eyes.

He trailed his hands down Drew's arms, squeezing them tight. Drew refused to make a sound, because it would only give Fenton an ill satisfaction.

"I'm sick," Fenton muttered. "Sick." He placed both his hands on Drew's hips, looking down. "So fucking sick."

There was something demented about Fenton, now. Evil.

Drew didn't trust his voice. Fenton tilted his head, jaw sharp. "Let me hear your voice."

Drew shook his head, feeling revolted at his clammy touch.

"Open your mouth and speak!" Fenton bellowed in his face.

A fear unlike anything he'd ever experienced before gripped him. Choked him. He didn't even have the capacity to weep.

"Why did you come?" Drew's words were barely above a whisper.

Fenton trailed his fingers down Drew's stomach. "I love you. All I ever wanted to do was show my love."

Drew was silent as he held his breath, not liking the feel of where Fenton's hands were drifting to.

"I don't want you to touch me," he found his voice, which was shaky and flooded with fright.

Fenton stiffened. "Do you love me?"

Drew's throat was tight with a sob. "I'm afraid of you."

Fenton only laughed. It sounded like that of a small boy. "Kneel."