CHAPTER 43: JUST A DARE

The bathroom was dim, with rain splattering against the window hard. Steam curled to the air till the bathroom was foggy, and Zeke stood with his bare shoulders by the mirror, staring at his foggy reflection.

He reached in and wiped the fog off, now staring at his clear reflection. Droplets of water slid down his wet hair to his face, tracing the sharp edges of his face.

He had gripped the edges of the sink, his knuckles whitening but the expression on his face remained null and unbothered.

Or at least, that was what he wanted to see, what he wanted others to see.

He’s just splashed his face after bathing for the fourth time, as if the cold water could erase the memories of tonight.

Zeke’s jaw twitched subtly.

It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter.

He told himself that again and again, the way he always did.

He reached for the towel hanging on the rack and wiped his face, letting out a sharp exhale. He’d spent years building walls thicker than steel - and he was quite sure he had succeeded.

But now, it was being chipped down.

He dropped the towel and leaned closer to the mirror. Water still clung to his lashes, and although his expression was null again, his pulse betrayed him.

He could almost feel it again - that look, that touch of skin to skin, fingers intertwined in his hair, and hands trembling as they felt his body, and the smell of whiskey mixed with pine.

And that look - those eyes - when he had tilted his head and was just a breath away from...

Zeke was very good at that. Not giving anything away when he didn’t want to.

Or staring at the bonfire as another man had danced with him.

Zeke scoffed, dragging his fingers through his hair, trying to erase the feeling of those fingers kneading his hair. Some strands fell forward again stubbornly.

"Pathetic," He murmured angrily, "It was just a fuckin dare,"

He reached for a cigarette case on the counter, took one out and slipped it between his lips. The lighter flared, catching a muscle twitching by his temple.

Smoke curled around the bathroom, following every puff.

Then, he leaned closer to the mirror again, whispering this time like a confession, "You need to learn how to breathe every time he’s around, every time you sleep together!"

And then, he turned away and left the bathroom, the door banging behind him.

As he put on his pants, he glanced at his roommate’s empty bed. It was already past curfew, and the infuriating thing wasn’t back yet.

Zeke walked up to Theo’s side of the room and looked around. Everything was well put in place and sparkling clean, compared to his side of the room. Even the bed was well tucked and made.

Guys have at least a million cells for disorganisation, but this one has at most, one.

Then, Zeke walked up to the door and opened it.

Silent. Empty.

Where the hell was his roommate? If he doesn’t return from wherever the hell he went, he would have to force himself not to go to sleep.

Just then, Zeke remembered that she had downed the Silverbloom drink and left almost immediately.

"He must be drunk," Zeke mumbled to himself, stepping out of the room completely, "Could he be stranded somewhere? Wandering about school alone? Probably caught by the authorities by now,"

Thunder struck in the clouds, loud enough to make the walls tremble.

"Or maybe not,"

Zeke pulled the knob behind him, about to close the door and go to the task of finding his sleeping partner when he stopped halfway.

Why did he care so much? He shouldn’t.

Sacrificing a night of sleep doesn’t sound so bad. Moreover, he’s been drowning in his nightmares before he met Hellcat.

Another night won’t kill me.

Or maybe he was just too strong-headed to admit that it might.

He went back to the room and lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

The room was cold...and dead.

Hellcat’s Presence often made the room feel alive, and he had gotten used to that feeling, but now it was dead and cold again.

It reminded him a bit of the cold darkness he used to be confined in. That room that he was often strapped down to, where he would be forced to lose his senses, spiral down a path of darkness, before returning again.

He recalled waking up often, strangling and fighting against the iron holds gripping him down. He would feel like he was melting from the inside, and sweat would roll down his body like he had just been hauled a bucket of water.

He would look at everything and everyone around him, and the only thing holding him back from ripping their insides out was his confines. The man with the bald head and white coat would smile maniacally, scribbling something into a paper while the tall figure standing next to him would stare down at him... like he was staring at the face of a disappointment.

Every day and night. Nothing changed.

Ten years. Ten unfortunate years of being stuck in that hideous lab, his whole body a sacred specimen secretly being worked on, being tweaked under the devil’s command.

And when the devil hadn’t seen any promise in him, he had sent him off to Gravemont so he wouldn’t have to see his face again for a long time.

And Zeke was sure that the devil would be searching for his next victim - that is, if he hadn’t found the person by now.

Someone who matched his needs, and he felt genuine pity for whoever that may be.

Because Zeke knew, that once the devil had you under his hold, there would be no escape for you. He had experienced that, firsthand, after all.

There was only one of his subjects who had ever escaped.

The first feeling of slumber grazed his eyes, and Zeke instantly sat up.

He couldn’t afford to fall asleep and go back to that place.

But did he have another choice without Hellcat being here? After all, he was told he had to fall asleep to lessen the effects of everything. To slow down the rot.

Option number two was to find his mate who wore a black and gold pendant, and mate with them.

A female.

Not a male. Not Thaddeus Douglas.

"It makes no sense," Zeke murmured to himself, as more sleep clouded his eyes, "Hellcat can’t be my mate, but why do I keep feeling like...,"