Whiskey Soured

 The man at the other end of the bar was named Koios. The more Blaise thought about it, the more he realized nobody in their right mind would name a child Koios. He tried his best to stare without staring, cycling through a thousand reasons why anyone would go by such a stupid name. The man called Koios had blonde hair, braided and tossed over his shoulder, stopping right above his belt. His pants and shoes were black, his white button-down hidden by a maroon suit vest. He had slender fingers, well manicured nails painted black, silver rings catching red and gold under the lights. He traced the rim of an empty wine glass, as if the whole world bored him. He was gorgeous. Blaise was blatantly staring now, but couldn’t find it in himself to care.

The man called Koios glanced in his direction. Blaise turned his head down on instinct, grabbing his empty whiskey glass and swirling the ice around to make himself look busy.

“Hey, you. Don’t sleep on my bar.”

It took Blaise a second to realize the bartender was talking to him.

“Listen,” she continued. “Koios wants to buy you a drink. Between you and me, don’t let him. He’ll ruin your liver and tip me pennies.”

He’d already choked down two whiskey sours in the half-hour since he’d sat down at the bar. A reasonable man would’ve gone home, taken a nap, woken up with a working memory and no hangover. Blaise, as reasonable as they come, was already sliding his empty glass to her.

“Your funeral,” she said before turning, shouting down the bar, “Boss! He’s all yours!”

Koios was graceful, standing and walking over and sliding into the seat next to Blaise as if it was all a single motion. Then he spoke, his voice practiced and polished into a gentle tenor. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

Blaise sighed, almost a laugh, mostly to himself. He’d been walking around aimlessly, blowing off steam after work, and he ended up in this bar– The Forge– after getting tired of freezing in the late December air.

Koios barrelled forward, saying, “You seem too young for whiskey.”

He shook his head, biting back You look too young for wine. “I’m twenty-two.”

Koios leaned in, his gray eyes sweeping over Blaise’s face. Then he smiled, and pulled away. “Twenty-four. Someone introduced me, I’m sure.”

Blaise nodded. He started to say his own name, but Koios spoke over him. “Have you had Buffalo Trace? I’m not much for whiskey, but my coworkers tell me it’s to die for.”

That got a real chuckle out of him. “My dad loves the stuff. It was my first drink.”

“And your verdict?”

“Hated it. Decided I’d only ever drink Jack.”

Koios turned his head, his lips forming a silent Oh. The bartender slid fresh drinks to the two of them, and Blaise barely thought about it as he took his and downed it like water. He swore he saw Koios’ eyes widen for a millisecond, but the look was gone before Blaise could process it. He went back in for more, rapid fire conversation on the weather– cold– and Awards Show season– never cared– and favorite book, which Koios cut in to name American Psycho.

To favorite candy, he answered Altoids Sours. Koios frowned. “I could’ve sworn those were discontinued.”

“I’ve been mourning ‘em for five years,” Blaise said. “Eventually I settled for SweeTarts. Go-to movie?”

“Checkmate. It must be a decade old by now. Starring James Amaretto and…?”

“Belladonna Lucibello,” Blaise cut in, almost automatically.

“You know of it?”

He stammered, then grimaced, staring down at his glass. “Saw it once when it came out.”

They went back and forth for a while, and the drinks just kept coming. His fourth tasted different, the whiskey sitting on his tongue as oak and nonpareils. He figured it was because he started ordering them neat.

“How do you afford all this when someone isn’t paying for you?” Koios teased.

“I work A/V for Good Morning Troy– y’know, on the corner of 12th and Titan?”

“You’d come out seven blocks for whiskey?”

“The price I pay for not wanting to run into my coworkers. Especially not–” The name caught on Blaise’s tongue, but Koios waved his hand and it all started tumbling out. “Who cares, you don’t know him. Zac Harley– Blowhard, ladykiller, total prick, whatever. He’s decent behind a camera, but keeps begging to try out for anchor. As if the boss would ever replace Katie West.”

Koios hummed. His brow had creased into something that looked like concern.

Blaise just kept talking, too deep in the rant to stop. “I’m just sick and tired of being in the middle of everything! Zac has the whole building calling me some stupid nickname, I’m running coffee for the boss nonstop, none of the tech cooperates with me anymore–”

“Anymore?”

He chuckled dryly. “I’ve got this thing. Curse, maybe. I’m near perfect the first time, but it’s all downhill from there. Maybe one day I’ll drink myself back to normal.”

“Beginner’s luck.”

“God, do you make everything sound so good?”

Koios let out a tiny laugh, an almost-smile. Blaise thought his heart was going to explode.

“What’s stopping you from taking control?” Koios probed. Blaise just repeated the phrase, and he continued. “From standing up for yourself. You must be stronger than you think.”

“I’m…” He fumbled for the words. “not that kinda guy, I guess.”

“You could always learn.” A pause. “How long were you planning to stay here?”

“‘Til they kick me out. Tomorrow’s my day off.” Blaise started to raise his hand.

Koios caught his wrist. “Let me take you home.”

Blaise floundered, feeling heat crawl up his cheeks. “Oh, but my place is a total wreck–”

“Excuse me! Let me pay for your cab…” Then Koios floundered for a moment, looking for a word on the tip of his tongue. Blaise didn’t offer anything, but agreed to the free ride. He was able to get another round in before the cab arrived. Koios walked him out. Blaise tried and failed to shy away from his touch.

As he was shutting the car door, Blaise blurted out, “I’ll come back.”

Koios gave him a strange, coy smile. “What a terrible idea. Goodnight, now.”

The sun was too bright. His head was pounding. The alarm on the other end of his living room had been ringing for thirty seconds already. By the time he was halfway up, the minute had passed and the clock was silent again. He flopped back against the couch cushions with a groan of defeat, dull aches rolling across his body. He reeked of whiskey. A reasonable person would have just gone back to bed. Blaise didn’t feel like spending his day off in such a state. He forced himself up for the second time, stripping off his clothes as he stumbled to the bathroom.

Everything was a guessing game with Blaise’s shower. Assuming the temperature decided to stay in one general area, it was a toss-up of boiling hot or freezing cold. The pressure would fluctuate just as wildly between light rain and the wrath of Poseidon himself, which was a reference he was dying to make, but could never find the place for. Even in a city like Troy, nobody cared for those old, dead stories. But maybe at the right time, he’d get a smile from Koi– Blaise cranked the knob for the hot water and was immediately winded by the raw force of it. Damn. He was hoping today would be the day where something went right.

He did his best to power through the heat, which meant thinking– sometimes hissing– a very long string of curses, all of which were relatively unhelpful to his situation. He vaguely remembered how nice the first shower he ever took in his apartment was.

He tried to adjust to the sting.

The rest of his apartment was in the same state, not counting his own mess. It was the smell he hated the most– something between rust and rot. He could ignore it when the TV was on 24/7, but he’d broken that a month ago, when he was getting slammed against any available surface during a whiskey-drunk hookup. His landlord was useless, and Blaise had wasted his so-called beginner’s luck on fixing up the microwave when he first moved in.

He tilted his head and sighed as the water cascaded down his shoulders and chest.

If only he had the cash for a better apartment. Something closer to the center of the city, a riverside view or something high up to watch the sunset. A decent shower and a bed he could actually sleep on. That’s all he wanted.

He’d never get it on nine bucks an hour. Nobody else was going to hire him. It was a miracle he landed the A/V job in the first place, considering his only experience came from being a bored kid trying to entertain himself on a movie set. The last guy just up and quit one day, and the station was scrambling to replace him. And the moment someone better came along, Blaise would be gone.

Maybe it was worth it to go back to Long Island. A couple minutes of goveling and a well-timed I missed you, and his dad would definitely– Blaise cut off the thought before he had more time with it. No amount of desperation was worth seeing that man’s face again.

He turned off the water, immediately sighing at the residual sting and heat left on his usually cold skin. For a second he appreciated the feeling, but then came the stinging pain. Just walking would hurt for the next few minutes, he was sure of that. He hung his head, watching as water dripped down strands of black hair.

He was still hooking the towel around his waist when he walked out of the bathroom. His phone was on the couch, buzzing out his ringtone. Blaise scrambled to grab it, flipping it open to answer, “Shoot for Blaise.”

“Jesus– Luci, this is Zac Harley,” came the voice on the other line. “Listen, for the fifth time, gimme a call back when–”

“It’s Lucibello.”

“Huh?”

The words had fallen out before he even realized. Blaise choked out a half-apology.

Zac cleared his throat. “Hey, how soon can you be down here? Stavros got sick and we need an A/V guy. Floristan would’ve called, but he’s getting chewed out by one of the higher-ups. They’ve been shouting up a storm for half an hour.”

He groaned. At least it’d make up for last night’s drinks. “Be there in ten.”

“Oh my God, Luci, you are a lifesaver, I could kiss you on the mouth.”

“That’s not my–”

He was gone as soon as he called. Blaise stared at the screen– four missed calls from Zac and one from Dad. For a second, he considered checking what excuse Dad had for him today. He knew it wouldn’t be anything different from all the other times he’d called, begging for Blaise to come home.

He sighed, snapped his phone shut, and grabbed his white button-down from the floor.

His feet took him back to the Forge, still in his work clothes and exhausted from his shift. It was a room of chaos. There was a man in a suit leaning over the bar, shouting I should strangle you! in the bartender’s face. The voice was familiar– and so was his face. But did that even matter? Koios had turned as soon as Blaise walked in, and caught his gaze. Blaise watched his expression flip from curiosity to horror. He shot up to grab the man by the shoulders. And suddenly, that man was storming off into a back room, leaving Koios shaking his head. He sat down as Blaise slid into the seat next to him.

“Who was that?” Blaise asked.

“My employer. Whiskey?”

“I’ve got the morning shift tomorrow, I’ll pa–” He stammered as Koios flagged the bartender and ordered over him. “…only have a few.”

Today Koios had on a long-sleeved white blouse, with a V-cut deep enough to show off the shape of his pecs– God, it was practically cleavage. Blaise knew he was staring, but he told himself he was looking at Koios’ necklace– a thin golden chain with a ruby teardrop pendant.

“I’m up here,” Koios said, and Blaise felt himself flush. “How was your day off?”

“Got called in anyway. God, you wouldn’t believe what happened.”

He launched into his story as the first round of drinks were set in front of them. Four hours of overtime was nothing to scoff at, but Zac Harley slacked off and tried to catch him in arguments the whole time he was working. Floristan was stuck talking to one of the guys from corporate, and the screaming match was loud enough to pick up on the mics in the studio. It was like the whole building’s energy had gone sour, and Blaise was exhausted.

“And– cherry on top– the corporate guy caught me on his way out.” Blaise paused to drink– his third of the night. “He just had to ask if I was in a movie he’d seen a decade ago.”

“Were you?”

He froze up for a second, then shook his head like an afterthought. “What did you say you did for work?”

“Oh, how I hate that question!” Koios chuckled, glancing at an ashtray at the end of the bar. Almost absently, he grabbed one of the matchbooks resting near it, flicking it open as he spoke. “I suppose it’s easiest to call me a contractor– nothing more than a corporate janitor, really. It’s my employer that finds the mess.”

“Your employer being…?”

“None of your business.”

Fire sparked between his fingers, only to go out a second later. Blaise just stared. Koios made it look like the easiest thing in the world.

Blaise tried to look anywhere but Koios’ hands. “So why hang around here?”

“My father owns this dump. When I have free time, I get to remind everyone who pays their rent.”

Oh. Koios pressed the match– still in its book– to the striker with his middle finger, and flicked. It sparked to life, and he let it burn for a second before blowing it out. Again, Blaise asked. He didn’t mention the way he was enamoured with Koios’ slender fingers, or how his nail polish and silver rings caught against the light of the match. He burned the entire matchbook, Blaise demanding again, again, again.

After he’d fed Blaise a few more drinks, Koios plucked a second matchbook from near the ashtray and pressed it into his palm. “Your turn.”

“What? No way.”

“What about that beginner’s luck of yours?”

Blaise scoffed. “You’re kidding. I’d just burn the place down.”

“We have sprinklers for a reason…” He waved his hand, almost looking for something.

Blaise pretended not to see, staring down at the matchbook. Then he was flipping it open, bending a match, setting it against the striker. He rested his thumb on the tip of the match, then lifted to reposition himself. He hesitated two more times before finally pressing and flicking.

The match sparked to life. The heat was gentle at first, and Blaise marveled at his accomplishment. Then it caught up to him, a little stronger than he could handle, and he shook the matchbook until the flame extinguished itself.

“Good,” Koios said, a hint of a smile on his face. “That wasn’t so hard, was it…?”

Then his eyes locked on Blaise’s, gray on blue, like a storm trying to swallow up the sky.

“Zero,” he finished, like he’d solved some great mystery.

The confusion must’ve been written on Blaise’s face. Koios chuckled, leaned in close. “I was considering Phoenix, but I haven’t killed you yet, have I?”

Blaise stammered. “I could’ve just told you my name–”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Koios said. “The zero is the latecomer. The enigma. Undefined and infinite. More important than anyone realized when they found it. Do you know how many systems and plans would crumble without zero?”

“I’m nobody. What plan could I possibly be a part of?”

“Must I spell it out for you? I like you, Zero. My God, you could be my Galatea.”

“What–?” Blaise struggled for a question on the tip of his tongue. “Who are you?”

“Someone much too dangerous for a pretty thing like you.”

Blaise could’ve said a million things in that millisecond. He was sure the blush creeping up his face said it all better than he could.

“Or maybe I’m lying,” Koios chuckled. “We’re both drunk, aren’t we?”

Of course. He thought he had more to say, but Koios had already changed the subject.

Two rounds later, Koios had taken his hand and led Blaise to his car, pushed him down into the back seat and climbed on top of him, slender fingers teasing the buttons of his shirt and the buckle of his belt. Koios had him undressed in the blink of an eye, replaced any shame with praise. His lips were on his neck and chest– never his mouth, despite Blaise’s pleading. But he fit so well in the palm of Koios’ hand, and nothing else mattered. His whole body was on fire, repainted crimson and gold. Koios called him darling and sweetheart and Zero– That stupid nickname– but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. As long as Koios kept talking, he’d be just fine. He just started to think he could get used to this when Koios let out a whine of his own.

Blaise short-circuited. It didn’t take long until he was moaning Koios, Koios, Koi, Koi, Koi– like a prayer as he came undone.

“Holy Hell, Luci!” Zac Harley said as he walked into the break room.

“It’s Lucibello,” Blaise said automatically.

Zac froze for a moment, then swooped in, clapping him on the shoulder, prodding at the reddish-black marks all over his neck. “Who’d you end up with last night, huh?”

He stammered, his mind flooding with hazy images of– Blaise shook his head. “None of your business.”

“You’re the one showin’ it off,” Zac chuckled. “Must’ve been one crazy-ass lady.”

He didn’t respond. Zac pulled off and sat down in the closest available chair. Blaise bit back a sigh of his own– He was trying to sneak in a nap on his break, get rid of the hangover headache taking over his life, but Zac was clearly here to stay. The silence was cut by a ticking clock, and Blaise put his head down on the table, closing his eyes against fluorescent lights.

“Hey, listen, I’m not tryin’ to be that guy…” Zac started, then paused. “But… Have you heard the rumors flyin’ around? Some outside hire comin’ in to shut people up?”

“Don’t care.”

“I’ve heard that’s who was in Floristan’s office yesterday. Seriously, pay attention! This is your livelihood we’re talking about!”

Blaise opened his eyes just to be polite. “Yeah, right. I’ve got an empty Twitter profile and haven’t touched Facebook in years.”

Zac stood up, beginning to pace the length of the break room. “Well, it’s my livelihood! Have you seen my Twitter, Luci?”

“Lucibello.”

“Two-hundred followers. I’m always on there. I’ve got dirt on the higher-ups. Literal life-ruiners. Really, man, it’s bad. I can feel the laser on my forehead already.”

“You’re Tweeting it? And announcing that to me?”

“Who else am I supposed to tell? Actually, I got this text last night from a local number–”

“Oh, no, how scary.”

“Listen, man! It said if I didn’t delete my accounts, they’d send somebody to kill me!”

“Uh-huh. Go to the cops.”

“I can’t! They said they’d hunt me down!”

“Right, yeah, of course. Makes perfect sense.” Blaise sighed, sitting up to watch him pace the room. “Delete the accounts if it’s that big a deal.”

“Jesus, Luci–”

“It’s Lucibello.”

Zac threw his hands up. “You can’t listen to me for two seconds? Have a heart!”

“You’re being an idiot.”

“I swear, you are the worst, Luci–”

“It’s Lucibello!”

Blaise was on his feet, shouting before he could think. His chair fell with a plastic clatter, and the silence was deafening. His outburst shut Zac up, but he was barrelling forward anyway. “I don’t care if you use my last name, but dammit, get it right! How hard is one extra syllable!?”

Zac just stared at him for a second, working his jaw up and down like a dumbfounded goldfish. Then his face curled into something like anger. “Yeah, right, because you care so much about your washed-up nepo family.”

Blaise paled. “How did you–”

“Don’t pretend you’re surprised. Your folks were household names a decade ago,” he scoffed. “How’s your daddy? Still wiping his ass with hundreds on Long Island?”

He felt his throat tighten, the knot in his gut twisting violently. “What’s it to you?”

“Actually, how’s your momma? And that director she was sucking off for years? Heard they got married.”

“Why do you even care?”

“Did your old man know? Was he in on it? Into it?”

“God, fine, you made your point, shut up–”

“I can’t believe they didn’t make headlines. Who’d she pay off, huh?”

“Zac, seriously–”

“Maybe she was just spreading her legs again! Seems like the only thing she’s good at–”

Blaise moved without thinking. In a blink, Zac was a heap in the corner, coughing and clutching at his stomach.

“What the Hell, man?!”

Blaise turned and stormed out of the break room.

Koios had caught him outside of the Forge that evening, taken his hand and pulled him through an alleyway to the back of the bar, pushed him through an open door to a furnished back room. The bass beat of music hit against the concrete, but the two of them were alone. Koios coaxed him into a game of pool, even though Blaise had never played. They traded turns in comfortable silence. Then Blaise called his shot, not nearly as graceful as he imagined Koios would have, and sank the 8-ball. He turned to Koios, marveling at the way his face shifted from surprise to understanding to something almost like glee. Blaise was congratulated on his first-ever pool victory with a kiss on the cheek.

“Something’s been on your mind,” Koios said, turning the 8-ball in his hand.

A beat of silence.

“I punched a guy today,” Blaise admitted.

“Did he deserve it?”

“Absolutely.”

“Tell me everything.”

Blaise froze up for a moment. “Well, my mother’s kind of a bigshot…”

As he worked his way through the story, only sparing the details about his family, he could feel the tension starting to come back. It was stronger, somehow. Harsher. It was as if he’d swallowed a gallon of nails, willed them to sit gently in his stomach, and now they were tearing him apart from the inside. For a second, it was almost familiar. He tried to place it, but only ended up tripping over his words. 

Then the rest of his body came into focus, and he realized he was pacing, almost shouting– “What sort of vendetta could Zac possibly have against me?! What have I ever done to him? I’m a glorified temp worker! I just want a moment of peace! How hard is it to leave one guy alone?”

He swiveled, and Koios was inches away from him. Every emotion churning in his gut came to a screeching halt. He took Blaise’s face in his hands, and cut off his rambling with a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“You’re so loud today, darling,” Koios chided.

Then he stepped back with a frown, crossing his arms. At Blaise’s look of concern, he said, “Today has been awful. My employer is demanding results, and fast. I don’t know when he got it into his head that he could threaten those dear to me…”

Then Koios reached behind his back, and produced a gun. He set it down gently on the pool table.

Blaise stammered, eyes flicking between him and the weapon. “What–?”

“Have you never seen a gun before?”

“Is that real?”

“Don’t be silly,” he said. “Take it. You might need it.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“I’m dangerous. There are people that will want you disposed of because we’ve met–”

“We’ve met? That’s what you’re calling it?”

Koios froze, then sighed out a laugh. “You know that isn’t what I meant, Zero.”

“Yeah, alright, Koi. I get it. We’re friends! Just two good buddies, right?”

“This isn’t the hill you want to die on.”

He didn’t need Koios to tell him what he already knew. It was stupid from the moment he got caught on the phrasing, and he couldn’t seem to care. “We’ve met! Do you say that to all the guys you flirt with for three nights? Or am I the first you’ve had?”

“How could that possibly matter?”

“You fed me drinks for three nights straight! You got me off in your backseat! You took me home last night! I thought we had something!” Blaise caught his breath, but his lungs were still burning. “Are you kidding me? I’m just someone you’ve met? Am I just an experiment to you? Just someone for you to try out?”

“You’re a lot of things to me–”

“And you think that means I’d jump off a bridge for you? I’m supposed to take a gun just because you say so? When I don’t mean anything to you!? Where the Hell do you get off–!?”

“This is for your sake! Everything I’ve done the last three days has been in your name!”

“You don’t even know it!”

The room went silent, and it nearly shattered him.

Koios shook his head. “I am trying to protect you. If you can’t get that through your thick skull, so be it. Don’t come crawling back to me when it all goes wrong.”

“Go to Hell, Koi.”

Blaise pushed past him and stormed out the back door.

It took him a minute of pacing in the alleyway to realize there was a gun in his hand, and another beat to realize he’d taken the gun. He scoffed, then sighed, and shoved it into his leather jacket. He’d toss it out later.

But the Forge was still in sight when he heard from behind him, “Luci? Is that you?”

Blaise darted into the nearest alleyway, trying to avoid any confrontation from someone he knew, but that someone had already caught up to him and clapped him on the shoulder, and Zac Harley was saying, “Thank God! This guy’s been following me for, like, five minutes–”

Oh, not now. Out of everything, not him, not now.

Blaise glanced over his shoulder, then shook his head, peeling the other man off of him and walking away. “You’re a man. Figure it out yourself.”

“Don’t give me that high-and-mighty bullshit right now, Luci!”

“It’s Lucibello–”

“Oh, get over yourself! What the Hell’s gotten into you?”

“I am not in the mood for this, Harley–”

Zac grabbed at his wrist, and Blaise spun on his heel to face him. There was a glint in his eye, some kind of fervor Blaise couldn’t place. He shook off Zac’s grip again.

“What’s your game, huh?” Zac said. “Are you in on this or something? Who’s that guy?”

“What–? Why are you here? What are you talking about?”

“Christ, how the Hell have you kept your job so long? I almost wanna call it dumb luck!”

He chuckled dryly, taking a step towards Blaise. He took a step back in turn, realizing a little later than he wanted to that Zac was getting him up against the wall.

Blaise shook his head, putting his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“Didn’t mean to punch me? Get real! Gimme one reason I shouldn’t kick your ass, man!”

There was a stumble in Zac’s step, an uncanny kind of confidence. Blaise felt his back hit the wall. “Whoa, whoa, just calm down–”

“Know what? Floristan found me after you lost your marbles. Chewed me out.”

“So what?”

“When he was done with me,” Zac said, his voice lowering. “he said he’d go talk to you. What’d he say, huh? How come you’re still on the payroll?”

“Nothing. I don’t know. I didn’t see him.”

“Uh-huh? You sure you weren’t under his desk?”

Blaise felt his breath catch in his throat. “You can not be serious right now–”

“You know what I think, Luci?” Zac hissed, and Blaise couldn’t find the energy to correct him. “I think you’re the worst thing that’s happened to GMT. Fantastic for a week, and then what? Everything starts failing. I swear to God, you’ve got some death touch–”

Beginner’s luck caught on his tongue. He just shook his head.

“–but hey, Floristan loves your ass. I thought he was just chasin’ the high of that first week.” Zac scoffed. “Can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. You’re his bitch.”

Heat boiled in his stomach, something Blaise couldn’t place. “Don’t–”

“What is it? A family business?”

The heat twisted, and his hand was in his pocket. “Shut up–”

“Maybe your mama really did teach you her secrets.”

His fingers brushed against cool plastic. “Seriously, shut the Hell up–”

“Get in bed with the boss and you won’t need to worry about a thing ever again, right?”

“You win, okay? Is that what you want? Just leave me alone!”

“My God, you even look like her–”

Blaise was sure he said something else, but it was lost in the noise.

He never should’ve taken that stupid gun. He pulled it out and pointed before he could even think. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears. Blood trickled down a shocked face, right between the eyes. He’d made a perfect shot.

Zac keeled forward and collapsed.

Blaise just stared down the sight of the gun, eyes shot wide and body frozen in place. It took all he had just to focus on his breathing, to try and shove down all the things bubbling up in his chest. He tried to stay calm. He had to stay calm.

“Wait– Wait, hey, no, I didn’t– You’re kidding, right?”

But the gun was slipping out of his hand. Before he could process anything, it had already clattered to the ground. Blaise became acutely aware of the fact that his body ached. He’d tripped…? No, he’d gone down too. He was on his knees, staring into Zac’s empty eyes– staring at the hole carved out by the bullet. Blood had soaked the concrete already, taking to crawling up Blaise’s jeans instead. His breath hitched in his throat.

“Oh. Oh, you’re– You’re actually dead,” he said quietly. “I didn’t– No. I’m so sorry. I didn’t– It was beginner’s luck. I– I didn’t mean to.”

A wheeze caught in his chest, pounding against his ribcage. He reached out to press his hand to Zac’s forehead. The blood was red-hot against his palm. He pushed down. He just wanted the bleeding to stop. It was stupid. He didn’t care. He choked on his thoughts, words starting to blend together in his head. “Don’t be mad at me. Please, please don’t be mad at me.”

There was a second voice now, almost him but it couldn’t be. “He really did it. I know I told you he would, but I can’t believe it happened so quickly.”

His body lurched forward involuntarily. “Oh, oh my God, I killed you. I’m so sorry. I killed you. Holy shit.”

“My new personal best…? Pay me with a bottle of Echezeaux and we’ll call it even.”

Blaise felt hot tears welling in the corners of his eyes, rolling down his cheeks, mixing with the blood staining his skin.

“…My, what a sorry state he’s in. I’ll have to escort him home.”

He was going to be sick. He was going to vomit. He was going to scream, cry, pass out. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be right. His vision blurred. His head was pounding. “I’m sorry– I can’t– I’m sorry– Don’t be mad, I can fix it, I–”

And the other voice chuckled, and it had to be Koios, and he was saying, “Oh, he’s mine. You can’t expect me to return such a darling plaything so easily.”

“Just don’t be mad, oh my God, please don’t get mad at me–”

“Oh yes, you sicken me too, father. Goodnight, now.”

A phone snapped shut. Footsteps. Two heartbeats.

“I can make it better, I’ll fix it, I swear I’ll–” Blaise pulled his hand back. He was laughing too. “Fuck, how do I–?”

He moved to cover his mouth. A hand caught his wrist.

Please, not now. Not like this. He shouldn’t see this. Anything but this. Anyone but him.

“Oh, Blaise, darling. You’ll get blood on your pretty face.”

Koios pulled his hand forward, pressing his lips to Blaise’s bloodstained palm.