your soul ripped from your stomach

doesn't mean charles isn't suspicious of someone showing up on his doorstep with a weapon and a warning.

he casts a suspicious glance past siggy, scanning of the glint of any other vehicles that might be hiding a little further down the sun - bathed driveway, listening for the rumble of any extra engines amongst the birdsong. satisfied, he drops his mismatched stare back to the other for another slow ponder, and then steps back, opening the doorway to them.

" seems like you have a lot you wanna talk about. didn't know jameson had friends in low places. come in, " he says, dropping none of the gruff exterior that had once animated his day - to - day interactions. so that's what this is about. after all, jameson aside, it's been a hot minute since charles had laid someone out, let alone without hurting them. there's only one possible option here. so what if he knows he'd been right ---- if he'd paid back equally and fairly the suffering luke had conveyed, in not - so - clear terms, to charles when jameson had come up : charles can't guarantee that jameson had confessed to his associate here that his own wrongdoing had inspired the beat - down. frankly, jameson hadn't seemed to be the honest type, remorseful or not.

he hopes siggy isn't here to shoot him over it. he hopes if they are, then they'll have the decency to do it where luke won't find the body. too much blood has stained luke's life already.

They stroll after Charles into the living room, which smells of hardwood-polish. In the corner of their eye, they see the outline of a mound of bubbles sitting in the kitchen sink. They move past Charles as if entering their own house and sit politely, rigid-spined on the edge of the faded striped recliner. They wave a hand as a gesture of ‘no thank you’ then fold their fingers politely over their lap.

“Full story? What, you mean to tell me there is context missing from Jameson’s whining?” He laughs good-naturedly. Charles is not afraid but wary, and potentially under the impression he is to sway a judgement already near-decided. Best to throw him a bone.

“I’d prefer to cut to the chase. Let me be clear, however, that I am here to listen and ask questions, nothing more. Again, you’ve already shown my associate more patience than I would have if our positions were reversed– I don’t know what he did, but when I take the time to send a message it requires more than a pack of ice and a few days of rest to mend. So,” 

He tilts his head, demeanor shifting away from amicability into a clinical tone.

( and it had been correct, even if charles obfuscates when luke asks where these fresh bruises on his knuckles came from, these tiny cuts that always come when flesh meets flesh. he remembers how easy it was ---- how jameson had crumpled into acceptance almost immediately as soon as charles had muttered this is for luke between one or another solid punch to jameson's narrow jaw. he'd not bothered to put up much of a fight. whether it was because he'd recognized the righteousness of charles' anger, or figured that charles would go easier if he didn't resist, and charles had, in fact, done just that, had been unclear. didn't matter. it was done and once the bruises were gone, charles didn't plan on ever thinking about how that smug, cruel confidence had melted into resignation on the other man's face again. )

but that little outburst of very unnecessary, and yet entirely deserved, violence is far from his mind today. the kitchen needs to be cleaned between loads of laundry, and he's got a bunch of american folk revival cds from the library that he's mumbling along to as he leaves no surface untouched. in his comfortable jeans and a worn - down, thrifted nirvana t - shirt, he's not expecting anyone until luke comes home.

so naturally, a knock on the door, though faint beneath the music, sets his alarm bells ringing.

luke has friends, and non - friends who he believes to be friends, of course. but luke isn't here, and it's not an easy task for the average asshole, finding this place without an address and a map. could be somone seeking charles out. someone determined. someone who has a bone to pick. certainly no one's coming up by accident. turning off the stereo and placing his cleaning cloth and brush in the bucket of warm water, charles stands, rolls his shoulders, wipes his hands on his shirt. he can't see the driveway from the kitchen window. maybe someone just got turned around on these country roads and turned up their driveway for directions? but no amount of peace and coaxing so far has eased the suspicion charles carries, and he's certainly not planning the shed it now.

as he approached the front door, he can passingly glance out the window beside the door, and through the curtains, sees the outline of a dark car. okay. normal vehicle. nice, newer. probably not someone from his past, at least. it's almost a relief when he opens the door to this short person in a coat that looks like it costs more than a mortgage payment whom he does not recognize at all.

they start talking, and charles' errand into the city a few days ago is not what springs to mind. this must be something luke related. but it doesn't make sense, the more charles takes in details : this person is probably packing heat. something about how they stand, how they carry themself. a smile that doesn't seem very sincere. eyes that must see charles studying them, and that are studying him right back. they use his name ---- how do they know his name? who like this could luke know?

“No, thank you, I’m actually here to speak to you privately. I’m hoping you can clear up some confusion for me about someone other than Luke who apparently is a mutual friend of ours.” They flick a finger between themselves and Charles, an emphasis that he means the present parties not Andersen. “You and I seem to have a bizarre amount of social network crossover.” The words are without any intonation, and they allow it to either be a good-natured observation or a point of suspicion. Siggy moves on briskly. 

“An associate of mine was assaulted– that was your doing. But you didn’t hurt him, not really. It was a slap on the wrist– you wanted to send a message. I can appreciate that.” 

Truthfully, Siggy misrepresents himself. They would not be having this conversation had Siggy not realized Charles is living with Luke. The address gave Siggy serious pause to re-evaluate their plan to eviscerate the perpetrator. After all, no one is allowed to touch Jameson, and anyone who does has earned the full extent of Siggy’s wrath given the importance of discouraging repeat offenses, but these are… particular circumstances. 

“So I decided to figure out what you wanted to say. And, interestingly, the house you’re living in belongs to another associate of mine.” 

No use wasting energy guessing, but there is no universe in which it is a complete coincidence Luke’s partner or roommate or whatever is targeting his Jameson, taking no money or possessions from his person, and leaving him without a single broken bone. 

Siggy gestures past Charles to the room beyond. 

but siggy surprises him. cuts the thought as though it is thin as a single thread. siggy, who offered him a gift once and was reviled at the body rhae offered in return, who does not want him, surprises him. siggy doesn't seem to care. doesn't seem to even mind. he doesn't care.

rhae blinks. he hadn't had time to start crying, and so great is his shock, he doesn't know that he can. ( enough tears shed tonight : before the work was done, he was dry of tears. he should know better than to save them for himself. ) he shakes his head, retreating a step into the darkness. but the screen, the soft colors, the little lamb, what's her name? he never pays attention when he watches the play - thrus, doesn't listen to the words, just enjoys the garbled voices and round animations.

" no, i'm . . . i was just ---- " he gestures with the slice of bread in his hand towards the stairs. he should go back to the guest bedroom. siggy doesn't want him here. siggy doesn't want him. he can go be a ghost again, he can force himself to sleep. but . . .

he can’t help reflexively shooting rhae a blank look before he can stop himself, attempting to get a read on if the kid is serious. is he just trying to be polite? no. no, he’s too smart to think being polite is worth spending more time with someone as dangerous as siggy than is strictly necessary. is he attempting to get in siggy’s good graces? an impossible battle if he is, and siggy would give rhae whatever he asked for regardless if he liked him.  

he is looking too long.

“ of course. ”

he wishes he had a blanket within his reach to cover himself with. the robe he wears reveals nothing, but nor is it modest. he tucks his legs together and smooths out the silk skirt over his thighs.

“ um… have you played? or did you mean you’ve seen it in passing? ”

Beneath his tongue are material remedies. he can purchase the ghost a console and any game his sad heart desires if it would give him a distraction. If it would make him feel comfortable. but rhae only asked to watch.

once he'd dried himself in a towel and slipped back into his room, he'd stared at the bed and smoked, the window cracked to the night. the distant city noise, a balm to his racing mind. he doesn't like the silence. he doesn't want to be alone with his thoughts.

at four, rhae wonders if he should go to sleep. try to rest, so that when he awakens tomorrow, his face won't be raw with his exhaustion. he should try and sleep the entire night, and if he has nightmares, try to go right back to sleep, and let his body have the rest it is desperately, desperately craving. his new boss ( siggy's boss too, a shared thread, two chained necks ) has already texted him tomorrow's gig. another hotel. another rich old man in law enforcement. another favor. they'll pay him less than the bribe would've cost.

but the idea of getting in bed ---- lying there and existing with himself ---- makes him sick. he puts out his cigarette. need something. doesn't matter what.

his footsteps are silent as he climb down the stairs, and he is disguised in the darkness of his oversized hoody and pajama pants. he carries not light, because it would be abrasive against his face. his mind is on one track. the kitchen. a glass of water, a piece of white bread. he'd only shuffling back when it dawns on him that siggy is there, and siggy is playing a video game. and siggy is looking at him.

" i didn't mean . . . " rhae begins, but his eyes are drawn to the pastel screen, the farm, the decorations, the little animals. animal farm. he knows this game. focus. you've interrupted your host, you stupid kid. " i didn't know you were down here. i'm sorry. "

he remembers pushing the faucet hotter.  he had closed his eyes, sunk his teeth into his cheek and turned it up more. he scalded himself and held his body beneath the scorching heat until he could not stand it, and then he jerked it ice cold.

now, siggy shivers beneath a silk robe tied tight ‘round his waist, and stares at the soft glow of the television. His back rests against the foot of the couch with a velvet throw pillow tucked behind him. his lips are parted slightly in concentration, tension beneath the corners of his eyes as he navigates a conversation muffy, a lamb cloaked in darkness and gloom, then proceeds to jump out of his skin the moment he becomes aware of a second presence in the room with him.

“ fuck! ” he yelps, voice an octave higher than it ever, ever should be. wide-eyes meet their mirror, both of them too surprised to transition away with any elegance. Siggy bristles as he watches rhae’s gaze comb over the television. This was a private affair his guest was not supposed to be privy to. he dislikes the presumption immediately and hits the pause button.