Nissim

Locklann had no perception of time. They could’ve been standing there mere seconds–opposite each other, Locklann waiting for Nissim to inflict whatever he would–or it could have been hours that they stood there. Locklann’s thoughts had become a chaos and in no way could he find a chronology in them anymore. And so time had become something vague, something for the people that lived in it, but not for those half on the outside, where day no longer meant awake and night no longer sleep, where weekdays no longer meant school, and Sundays not rest. Sometime, over the years of his life, it had all stopped making sense. Perhaps that’s what happened when you’d fallen through it a few times.

He blinked when he realised his eyes were hurting, but he never looked away. He was breathing, almost calmly, but there was enough elevation in his breathing to give away his fear. Nissim would notice. Nissim always noticed. There was a secret in the back of Locklann’s mind and he was trying to spin around it so Nissim wouldn’t read it in his eyes, while all too aware Nissim would find a way through every barrier Locklann would put up. And he was happy for it, because ultimately he wanted Nissim to find it and discipline him. Whatever it meant. However much it would hurt. Regardless of how unfair it would feel.

His hands had began to tremble, but he kept his arms outstretched as he waited. There was no hint of hesitation in his posture, even though he was fighting the instinct to run. He continued to look at Nissim, regardless of the pain and fear. And the weakness in his knees.

As Nissim closed in on him Locklann nearly flinched, but much of his motion was controlled by his determination. He’d just spent two weeks missing him. There was no way he’d run away.

His head moved back at feeling Nissim’s hand close around his throat. He sucked in a breath of air, wondering whether he was going to be allowed a second one, and a third. The grip wasn’t too tight yet, but that said very little of Nissim’s intentions. In fact, it foretold little good of what he might do next. Nissim was just waiting for it… waiting to detonate.

He was forced onto his toes, which tested his conscious further. He was already seeing stars, he was already weak, but that had never deterred Nissim. He’d do what he had to do, regardless of what marks it’d leave, or how far it’d push Locklann past his limits.

Locklann’s teeth gritted and for the first time his eyes quickly darted away, trying to find safety from the gaze Nissim held at him. Two brief seconds it took him to regain the courage to look back again, Nissim’s question unanswered with anything more. What had he done…? He could taste it, still, on his lips. He knew that was impossible, but apparently the water of the lake hadn’t been enough to eliminate the memory. Nor had the smoke of the cigarette worked any better.

Getting here, to this point, had been a long process. Nissim didn’t exactly remember what or when the first time had been, but he did remember how painfully long it had taken him. Not that he had never seen fear in Locklann’s eyes before that point, because he certainly had, but it just hadn’t looked like this. It hadn’t looked like terror, which--to Nissim--just meant that he wasn’t taking Nissim as seriously as he ought to. And Nissim had needed him to, because he wanted Locklann to know him better than anyone else had ever had. He needed to feel the terror of constantly being watched by Nissim, because Nissim knew it was necessary. If--when--Locklann’s last day on earth would finally come, Nissim needed him to be aware of it. He needed him to know he was going to die. No doubts. And Nissim needed him to accept it until he no longer could, until he would beg to be allowed to live just a little bit longer. Until the terror would become explosive and more beautiful than Nissim ever would have seen. Until the look in Locklann’s eyes--the one Nissim was seeing now--would simply disappear forever. 

But--no matter how painfully tight his grip had suddenly become--that day would certainly not be today. Or anytime soon, for that matter, because Nissim would not kill anyone that wasn’t perfect and Locklann was currently very, very far from perfect. 

It no longer baffled Locklann like it used to do. The fact that he needed this had become a normality. He was no longer scared of it. He’d accepted it as an undeniable part of who he was; who he had become. Perhaps a few years ago he would have been terrified at the realisation that the danger made him feel alive, but now he liked it. He liked how he ran for it, not from it. It’s how he’d found himself. How he’d found Nissim. And if it’d all end terribly, bloodily, painfully… then at least it would have been worth every second of life he’d had to endure.

The kiss wasn’t a kiss. That’s how he’d ended up with his thoughts in a mess again. Danger danger danger. Nissim was testing him. Nissim was reading his every move and trying to get into his mind–deeper into his mind–and Locklann so definitely had something to hide.

But that wasn’t all that Locklann was focusing on, because that would be impossible. Warmth was surging through his body, screwing everything up. His stomach was so full of nerves that it was painful, and his chest was so tense he could no longer expand his lungs, leaving his breaths to be fast and shallow.

His eyes had slipped shut and he moved forward once Nissim had dragged him up, so Locklann was straddling his lap. Perhaps it was greed, perhaps necessity, but he couldn’t help move his hips forward, trying to get closer to that one thing he’d thought about every single hour of the night. It wasn’t even sex. It was never just sex, or else Locklann wouldn’t need it the way he did. It wouldn’t have turned him into an addict, because there was only really one thing that made Locklann’s heart beat… Murder.

Nissim might have figured him out, or perhaps he had set his mind on something; what to do next, but Locklann could feel the shift in the atmosphere around them and a moment later the world turned hard again. From having been nearly sucked into the warmth of Nissim’s kiss, he was suddenly breaking against hard concrete, his hand having moved up just fast enough to protect his face, but certainly not effectively enough to prevent his knuckles from scraping open.

He gasped when it felt he might be able to fill his lungs again. His eyes were hide as he tried to roll onto his front and push himself up, but the pain lasted. It thumbed through his system, in sync with his pulse, and it wasn’t going anywhere. Fear shot through his body, causing the hairs in the back of his neck stand upright. His senses were sharp and Locklann knew it was just going to make everything so much worse, because he would really feel it now his body had become attuned to every light graze. That’s what happened when instincts kicked in. No matter how often he’d been in this position before, Locklann still hadn’t found a way to stop his body from responding and–even if Locklann knew it wasn’t so–his body would always be convinced that if he’d just pay close attention and feel every nerve in his body he would be able to move and escape.

But, of course, he would never escape.

He pushed himself up, his body trembling badly enough to lose his strength twice before he was able to move his leg and sit up. He moved his arms out in both directions in an attempt to find balance, while he pushed up from the ground. How else was he supposed to do it now the world had began to spin around him.

It was dark and quiet. Some of the buildings were adorned by bright neon signs, but the light didn’t quite reach them. If anything, it made their immediate surroundings all the harder to observe and Locklann found himself staring at a monster in the shadows.

He kept his hands out, but then slowly lifted them higher, spreading them out while he stood before Nissim. Target. He was the target.

All Locklann had ever done was fight.

Perhaps that wasn’t what it had been like in the very beginning, when everything about his life had still been innocent and wondrous, but the very second the reality of that wonder had began to settle in, he had began fighting. And from then on, it had been a fight against that wonder and a fight against his desire to feel it. Because someone like him had never been supposed to see the world as this amazing place in which anything could happen, because the reality was that it couldn’t. Nothing could happen. Because life was just an eternal trial for what would happen after it. He only had one chance to get it right and deep down he--along with everyone else--knew that he never would. Because he never could. It was the one thing he would always fail to do. The one thing even Locklann couldn’t successfully completely. Life.

But ever since Nissim, and all the other ones before him, that fight had stopped. Suddenly it no longer mattered where he would end up after he died, because maybe there was no way that anything--even after death--would be more painful than life itself already was. Suddenly the fight to stay alive at all had overtaken the fear to end up in hell, because what could it possibly matter where he’d end up when all he had ever known was suffering? How could he wish for something he had never even known existed? 

Nissim had never seen it in anyone else. He had known people who longed for pain and he had known people who even seemed to need it, but never before had he seen anyone whose life was completely dependent on the existence of it. Never before had he seen someone who had so fully accepted that pain would always be an essential part of his life and never before had he seen anyone who, if you looked at it superficially, so desperately longed for his life to never get any better. Not running from abuse, but running straight to it instead. Welcoming it with both arms outstretched, no matter how badly he dreaded it at at the same time and no matter how the trauma from the past covered every single inch of his entire body. 

Yet all he wanted on top of that was to love and be loved, which would under every other circumstance be the biggest contradiction there had ever been. The two didn’t go together. Abuse didn’t come with love. Abuse came with fear and hatred. Abuse could be disguised love, but it would always be conditional. It would always come from wanting things--whether it would be a situation or someone else’s entire being--to be different. And that wasn’t love. No matter how people would like to convince themselves that it was, that they were only doing it out of love, it would never be love. 

Nissim loved him, but even his abuse didn’t happen out of love. Nissim didn’t love him unconditionally either; that was the whole point of why they were here. He loved him for who he was, mesmerised by his beauty and amazed--every single time--by just how much he could handle that he really wasn’t supposed to be able to handle, but he still wanted him to be better. He was still striving for the perfection he would permanently destroy the very second he had reached it. Nissim didn’t hate him for who he was, but he didn’t let him off the hook either. He didn’t let him have a second of rest, because Locklann no longer existed for himself. Locklann only existed because Nissim wanted him to exist, and that was all the love that made sense for him to feel and all the love that made sense for Nissim to give. Nissim was his God. He made all the decisions for him. Nissim could let him go forever or he could decide to kill him, but he would be dead either way. Without Nissim there was no life, because Locklann was already dead. With Nissim’s pain as his heaven and Nissim’s neglect resulting in a never ending hell. His suicide eternal. The pain would never end and always be too hollow. 

Locklann knew it was never going to be simple. Of course not. Being with Nissim wasn’t simple. Or easy. But it was the only thing that had ever made any sense. It made so much more sense than the last two weeks of his life had done. The sudden ‘freedom’ had been nothing but a prison, because without Nissim, he would never escape the darkness in his own mind to find something else outside of it, even if it was more darkness.

Perhaps that’s why it had all gone wrong… He’d forgotten there’d been anything else at all. He’d been locked up with the demons that lived inside his own head, and they’d been telling lies. So many of them. He hadn’t stood a chance against them, because he hadn’t had a reason to. Without Nissim, what did he have to fight for? Nissim was his reason to go to war every morning. And–more importantly–Nissim was the bloodiest war Locklann had ever fought, making all other battles seem insignificant. Easy. Nissim made him strong.

Locklann’s head was hurting. He couldn’t make much sense of his thoughts. They didn’t make much sense. Perhaps it was impossible to ever understand what had just happened. But he would try. He just had to find the words. Or… or the colours.

He was barely still holding it together. His hands were clenched so tightly around the material of Nissim’s shirt that his fingers were going numb, but he wouldn’t let go. Not until he was made to. And then he would kick and scream.

This was going to be hard. Locklann was under no illusion that it wouldn’t be. There were countless of questions he had no way of answering; like what would happen now he’d been dragged away from whatever little life he’d had left. But his mind couldn’t even begin to fathom the importance of such questions, when it was too busy figuring out whether being beneath Nissim tonight was living or dying. They could feel so similar, so hard to tell apart.

Nissim’s lips came quite out of nowhere. One moment Locklann had been wondering what Nissim was going to do, and the next he was pressed even firmer into the car seat, his lips suddenly tingling as Nissim’s moved against them. It was gentle, but there was absolutely no mistaking the control behind it. Locklann did nothing–didn’t respond–just to feel it; the way Nissim took whatever he wanted. He’d needed this for days now. He’d needed someone–no, not just someone–to take all of it away. To take every last bit of control, every last inch of his body, every thought on his mind.

He’d made mistakes. Perhaps Nissim would taste them on his lips.

Locklann’s eyes were suddenly open and his body went rigid with stress. His tongue moved up to press against Nissim’s, but his mind was suddenly dizzy with fear. Surely he wouldn’t… Surely he couldn’t…

Locklann wasn’t done. He wanted more. He wanted to hold on a little longer, just a little longer still, until he’d stop feeling his hands entirely, as they clutched hold of Nissim. He tried to hook his leg around Nissim too, willing to keep him close. It was the opposite of the escape he’d been planning before.

He just needed more. His body was already giving in. He was going weak beneath Nissim. He was letting out whimpers and then moans, as Nissim’s tongue moved against his, so demandingly, so forcefully. Nissim would just keep taking, until Locklann would have nothing left to give. Even then, he’d push him further, always expecting more, expecting better, and Locklann would perform for him, exert himself. He’d be what Nissim thought he’d never find in this world, because that was the only way Locklann could repay him.

He was waiting for something to happen as he knew it inevitably would. Locklann could never remain completely still as Nissim did this to him. There would always be something going on inside of him, no matter how empty and dull everything else around and within him would be. Nissim’s lips would do the trick, they would show him a glimpse of something different, something that was going to set him free. At least for the night. 

Therefore Nissim hardly ever closed his eyes when he kissed him, not wanting to miss a single look in Locklann’s eyes. He would always be digging for that very first hint of emotion--whatever that emotion may be--so that he knew what to do afterwards. Sometimes it’d give him the tools to do what Locklann needed him to do, and sometimes it’d give him the tools to do the exact opposite of what Locklann needed him to do. Whatever Nissim deemed appropriate, he’d find in these very first few seconds of emotion. 

So he saw him melt into it at first, his body suddenly relaxing against the gentle touches. He saw the life return to him, though only slightly, because no matter how Locklann might have needed these tender touches, it wasn’t enough. But then he saw Locklann’s eyes open, pupils dilated with shock. No, not shock. Fear. Panic. Nissim could feel a slight hint of it against his lips, Locklann’s breath hitching against his own as his heart rate sped up against Nissim’s chest. 

What was he so afraid of that he didn’t want Nissim to notice? What had he done? And what did Nissim need to do to get it out? 

But it only took a few seconds for that fear to fade and make place for something else. As if the fear had made him suddenly realise that this--whatever Nissim was doing to him right now--couldn’t end. And so Locklann began responding to the touches, suddenly spurring into action to make himself forget about the thing he’d been so afraid of a mere few seconds before. But Nissim wasn’t forgetting about it, not yet, because in his mind he was already thinking about what to do next. He had to know. He’d break him out of the prison of his mind, but he had to know. 

All Locklann’s thoughts were his. He would never allow any fucking secrets to stand in his way. 

Suddenly he moved up. His one arm was around Locklann’s starving frame in order to pull him with him, while the other remained in his hair. Their lips stayed connected, the desperate moans and whimpers vibrating against Nissim’s lips. He’d missed this. He’d missed seeing the effects he had on Locklann, no matter what state he might be in. Nissim’s methods never failed. Never would. 

He moved back into his car seat, Locklann now straddled on top of him. He continued to kiss him like he’d done before, his tongue exploring his mouth while feeling the desperation of Locklann’s against his own. Locklann wasn’t just letting it happen: he needed this to happen. He’d needed it ever since they’d last seen each other, but probably he’d needed it even more the past week. The need had undoubtedly been agonising and now Nissim was allowing him to forget that Locklann had been lacking it at all. For just a few seconds. 

He took a firmer hold of his hair, momentarily keeping him exactly how he wanted him. The grip was so tight that it’d undoubtedly be pulling at his scalp, but Nissim didn’t care. Nissim needed Locklann’s pain and Locklann needed Nissim to give it to him like only Nissim could. 

His right hand reached for the door handle, swiftly opening up the car entirely. He noticed a subtly change in Locklann’s posture, but he didn’t give the boy enough time to let the surprise--or shock--of it settle in. He yanked Locklann’s head back again, his right hand disappearing in his hair now as well. He needed all the strength he had, even though moving Locklann’s body had never taken him much effort at all. 

Quickly, he yanked Locklann in the direction of the opened door. Slowly at first, but then with a strong, quick yank to make him lose his balance entirely. He pushed him out the car with so much force that he clattered against the rough asphalt, and for a moment Nissim couldn’t help but imagine how Locklann’s bones would shatter with the impact of his fall. 

“Get up, Locklann,” Nissim demanded. His voice was rough. Dangerous.  Nissim was ready to get out as well, his foot nudging into Locklann’s chest. “Get the fuck up, Locklann.”

At some point Locklann had thought that he’d felt it all. Every kind of sadness, every pain. He’d thought that there was nothing new he could still experience, because he’d done it all. He’d believed there was nothing that could still shock him.

But this did.

His fingers tensed around the material of Nissim’s shirt, desperately holding on to him for fear of sinking straight back down into that dark water if he didn’t cling on for dear life. It didn’t matter that Nissim held him pressed down into the uncomfortable seat of the car, because Locklann could feel the void right beneath him, waiting for him to fall. Always waiting for him to fall. So he tightened his grip and held on.

Just a few hours ago he’d been between those trees, by the picnic bench, drinking. He’d thought he’d found something he could use, just to get through another few hours of a life that should’ve ended two weeks ago. He’d kept doing it; finding things to hold on to, to use, to get through another night… but they’d not worked. None of it had felt like this.

The side of his face was burning from the force Nissim had used to smack him. His body felt crushed beneath Nissim’s, in far too uncomfortable a position. Nissim’s words were still cutting him half open–coward, coward, coward–and his heart had no idea whether to beat faster than ever or stop.

It was terrible. It was bliss.

His life made no sense. It had never made any sense. Of course it wouldn’t begin to make sense now. No, it was only ever going to get stranger, more inexplicable, crazier…

His eyes opened to look at where Nissim was going once he moved back, while Nissim’s words echoed clearly through his mind. It was a threat; a warning not to play with what belonged to Nissim. But more than a threat, it was a comfort. Because Locklann was tired and if he was left to his own devices he’d get rid of this entire thing he called a life. But if Nissim wanted it… He could have it. He could take all of it. He could do whatever he wanted. And once Locklann had found back any longing to be alive, then Nissim could take it all away and watch him suffer. Then Nissim could tell him that he’d never get what he wanted, because he’d live when he wanted to die and he’d die when he wanted to live.

Locklann tried to blink the tears from his eyes, but more kept coming so he stood little chance of clearing his vision. His breathing was too fast, a rush of pain and excitement. It made very little sense, but Locklann had long since stopped trying to make sense of his emotions. Relying on them had rarely had any good consequences.

His instinct was to flee. His instinct was to yank his head away and shut his eyes forever, so he’d never have to face the question Nissim had just imposed on him. But Nissim’s hand prevented him from moving at all; it was tight in his hair, keeping his head in place, waiting for eye contact. Locklann blinked again, then looked up. Through the blur he could see enough. Nissim was the only danger that still mattered. It was the only danger that Locklann had ever meant to run straight into. The one he’d been destined to ultimately fall to.

“I do…” Locklann said. His words were broken, but that didn’t mean he meant them any less. “I understand. I do.” He sucked in some air, though it didn’t help clear up the haze in his mind, and it didn’t stop the pain in his chest. “Please… make it stop.” Locklann’s hands clenched all the tighter, his muscles tensing as he lay beneath Nissim, the sensations far too overwhelming to still take in silence. “Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop…” But, even if Nissim could, why would he? Wasn’t it beautiful like this?

There had been an apology on his mind last night. He hadn’t planned on letting it out in so many words, because that was not what Nissim did and it wasn’t what Locklann wanted him to do either, but there had been one there, pushing itself to the front of his mind. After all, he’d lost the control while he had promised--silently--that he wouldn’t ever do that again. That same loss of control was the whole reason he’d been sitting in that childhood bedroom at all, looking ahead of him as he wondered how Locklann was doing. Whether he was still alive at all. He’d felt sorry then, or at least that had been the only explanation he’d found for that nagging, dreadful feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he had come up with countless ways to make it clear. Not that he ever would. Of course he wouldn’t. It’d only confirm that he had made a mistake and Nissim didn’t make mistakes. Not even when everything was making it look like he had. 

But it hadn’t really been a mistake at all, had it? The apology had vanished and so had the feeling that had accompanied it. He couldn’t even remember what it had felt like then, or what he had felt like at Locklann’s house when he had felt that it might all be too late. He just knew that he had felt it, he realised. That guilt. Then too, as he sat across Locklann’s mother, observing the look in her eyes that explained she was inches removed from her breaking point. He’d felt it nagging at him, he knew, punching him in the stomach and making it hurt.

He’d thought he wouldn’t be able to cope with it then. Losing Locklann was something that he had always been planning on doing, but Nissim hadn’t been done with him yet. There was so much more to discover and so much more to do. There were so many more pieces to pick apart and so many more secrets to unravel. And this wasn’t the way it was meant to happen. It hadn’t been perfect and--worse--Nissim wouldn’t have been there to see it happen. After all he had done, everything would just be gone. Just like that. After a thoughtless decision and having miscalculated every one of Locklann’s inner battles. That’s where the guilt had come from. He’d done himself wrong. He’d almost thrown all his work away. Just like-fucking-that. The guilt had been inevitable. 

But he’d made it up to himself now and he had been forgiven, because Locklann was here with him, more beautiful than ever. He’d almost killed him, crushed underneath his car, but now he was here, breaking apart. The apology vanished and he was no longer sorry. Because what had once looked like a mistake was nothing but perfection now. Nissim had done it again. Like always. 

And Locklann understood it. He understood that Nissim was here to take the control back from him once back and that he wasn’t allowed to keep any of it for himself. He understood that he was safe here too, and that Nissim would protect him like no one else would be able to do. He’d always be here to break him free and to feed his addiction just to keep him alive when he didn’t want to, though always only holding on by a thread. Because Locklann wasn’t meant to get better and he wasn’t meant to recover. Not only because Nissim didn’t want him to get better--like his mother had rightfully pointed out--but also because true happiness for Locklann would never be happiness at all. The addiction to his own misery was too deeply rooted. That, to the both of them, would be true happiness. The only thing that would ever work and keep them alive on a level that nobody else would ever understand. Not like this.  Mesmerised with his own creation, he stared down as Locklann continued with his desperate pleas. He didn’t do anything for a few seconds, but then the grip in his hair tightened again. Maybe he’d grant him this one wish, at least to the extent that he could grant it, but there was something else he wanted first. 

He closed the distance between them, his lips firmly pressing against Locklann’s. They brushed over him, gently and lovingly. He repeated it a couple of times, while not even taking the time to notice whether Locklann was responding to this touch at all. It didn’t matter. Nissim would take the control. Nissim would guide him back to the surface for now so he could decide when he would drop him and make him drown once more. 

With his tongue, he forced his lips apart and explored the inside of his mouth. Perhaps he’d be able to taste the dirty water that had nearly drowned him and perhaps he’d taste the remnants of all else that he’d inflicted upon himself the past week. He wanted to. He wanted to reclaim him entirely, because all of this was his and he wanted to know everything that had happened so that he could use it later on. He wanted to use it later on, because Nissim had already decided he’d do it. He’d make it stop. Somehow. He’d replace the feelings momentarily, filling his system with utter terror to replace whatever it was that he was feeling now. And then he’d repeat all of it again. Trauma after trauma. Until he was perfect. 

He’d never stood a chance against Nissim, so it was ridiculous of him to assume he might now. His struggling was all in vain, but he couldn’t stop and fall still. Nissim had no trouble pushing him down and keeping him down, but it didn’t matter. Locklann could’ve been twice as strong as he was and still would have lost to him, but that didn’t matter either. What mattered was the fact that he was about to explode and he had to do something before it would be too late. He had no idea what might happen, but he was on the brink of something. He was standing at the very edge of all he’d ever known and he was staring ahead into the darkness that lay there. He might as well have found the edge of the universe. His hands touching that thin veil between what he had known and what he had never seen before. And Nissim was right behind him, pushing him…

Too much was happening. Locklann couldn’t even properly keep track of everything Nissim was saying, as it was seriously overwhelming him to the point where all Nissim’s words mingled together to form all kinds of devastating sentences that Locklann didn’t ever want to hear. Coward coward coward…

Nissim was in control, like he was supposed to be, but Locklann couldn’t find comfort in it like he usually would, because what Nissim was asking him to do… It wasn’t something he’d ever done before.

You weren’t going to be able to be perfect for me…

The lack of oxygen barely mattered. If anything, it came as a relief, as he couldn’t imagine the pain of breathing when he was so desperate to die. Perhaps that was the true tragedy of having to be alive.

He only noticed the smack to his face after it had already happened and Nissim was already raising his hand to do it again, unsatisfied with hitting him just once. No, he needed more. He did. He needed so much more.

It was only after his head was pounding with the sheer force Nissim had used to smack him that Locklann gasped for breath, even though Nissim had released his throat already.

He was on that rock again, getting dragged away from the last pages of his book, never to find out what the last paragraph might have said.

Locklann’s body arched when Nissim pressed down on top of him, pushing him into the uncomfortable seat. He could feel the buckle of the belt press into his lower back, right against his bones, probably leaving more marks on his already overly bruised body. Didn’t matter… Didn’t matter… Nissim–

I DECIDE WHEN YOU DIE, YOU FUCKING COWARD!

His head flinched to the side, but there was no escape. Nissim’s voice could break through anything, and it didn’t matter what useless walls Locklann had tried to put up, they all came crashing down, as Nissim’s voice shot through his head like a bullet.

He was screaming again, but his screams soon turned to cries, and his cries turned to sobs–choking, desperate sobs–while his hands tried to reach up for something to grab hold of, like he had been doing beneath the water of that terrifying lake. Except, this time, they found Nissim’s waist and they clutched hold of it, squeezing hard around the material of his clothes, probably hurting the skin beneath it.

Safe.

I decide when you die.

Safe. Safe. Safe.

You fucking coward.

His hands clutched more tightly. His eyes opened to look up at the roof of the car. So be it. Then. So be it.

Nissim always thought he had become good at it. No, he had always thought he had been good at it. From the very moment he’d seen it, and then again when he had learnt what the damage had been, and then again when he had seen what that damage could drive Locklann to, and then again when he broke him down. Time after fucking time. He’d always thought he’d been good at predicting the responses, calculating what might happen next, just like he had been with everyone else. 

But he wasn’t. Not with Locklann. Not really. He’d always thought he had been, but then something would happen that Nissim hadn’t been able to foresee. And then he would wait, learn, test and experiment, until he had convinced himself he had it now. But he didn’t. Never had. He’d just learnt what to do in certain circumstances, and that would often be enough, until these circumstances would change again and Locklann--again--was different. A different kind of crazy. A different kind of unpredictable. A different kind of panicked. Depressed. Fucking insane. 

He had seen this coming. He had known that Locklann would try this, no longer being able to handle being alive if Nissim was no longer going to be with him, but it had come much too late. He hadn’t realised it at first. For the first week and a half, or even longer, until everything clicked again. Locklann wasn’t normal. Locklann was fucking stupid, thinking Nissim would ever let him go. He’d forget all about it in a matter of days, and then it’d just be Locklann and the voices--Nissim’s, probably--to remind him of everything that was gone. Again. Just like everything else had gone. Locklann was goddamn crazy.

Yet it had never hindered him. No, the fact that Nissim knew he would never fully be able to predict his insanity was the whole fucking point of why he was here in the first place. It was the reason that this broken mess still interested him. It was the reason that he continued to try, over and over again, to take it even further, experiment with something else only to break him again. And again. And again. Whether that was consciously or, as he was coming to realise now, sub-consciously. Nissim hadn’t figured it out too late. No, he’d been right on time. Right on time to see this, for the relief to settle in just at the right time. Only to see the new extent of insanity, the one thing--on top of every-fucking-thing else--that made him so goddamn beautiful. 

And now he was there to see him fight him, go against Nissim’s every move while knowing he would never be able to get away. Now he was there to see how the relief of seeing Nissim hadn’t mattered enough to get him through the thought he should have been dead by now. How could it? How could anything be enough to forget about the burning need to just fucking die? How could the sight of something that might as well not be real at all be enough to pull him back out of that desperate craze to be somewhere else? Anything but here? To be fucking dead. Just like he’d been meant to. 

But Nissim wasn’t just a sight. He hadn’t just come here to sit next to him and drive him to another obligation to exist. No, he was the entire reason any of this had even happened. He was the reason he’d almost been dead and he was the reason he was alive now, fighting, screaming, responding violently to Nissim’s words as they undoubtedly echoed through his mind and made him explode in an entirely new way. Nissim was his obligation to exist, because there was nothing Locklann would be able to do without him. Without him, he couldn’t live and without him, he could’t fucking die. 

He’d continued to smack him, a storm raging inside of him enabling him to go far beyond the limits of his body. Suddenly he was no longer tired. Suddenly he was just smacking, experimenting, until...

Locklann broke down, the first few sobs coming from his throat like a gasp for breath. His body was collapsing, going limp and then tensing again as he was reaching out for the only proof that life was worth anything at all. His arms enclosed around him, desperation giving him just enough strength to hold on for dear life this time around and then... Then he sobbed, hysterically, screaming into Nissim’s chest as Nissim moved down closer again, his weight hovering right above him as their bodies touched. It was happening. The fight for life was only happening now, with the promise that Nissim would be here, on top of him, until it’d truly be time for him to die. By Nissim’s hands. Just like he’d promised he would. This was it. This was their reunion. Their life just starting now. 

“I’ll make the fucking decisions, Locklann. I’ll decide what fucking happens to you,” he whispered, his face right next to his hear. Despite the clear threat in these words, he wasn’t making it sound like one. This was a promise. Comfort. “You’re mine to dispose of. Mine to kill. Mine, mine, mine.”

The scream had come out of necessity. There had been nothing else Locklann could have done in that moment. Staying silent meant having let those words sink into his mind all the deeper, rooting themselves firmly between all of Locklann’s thoughts. It was firm enough as it was, even with him screaming to get away.

But things between them were never quite that simple. Perhaps anyone else might’ve taken Locklann’s scream to mean they’d had him cornered, but Nissim would know better. Nissim would see that–although not as obvious as straight out opposing the statement Nissim had just made–it wasn’t acceptable either. And it, by no means, was a defeat, although it was much closer to one than it should have been.

And Nissim wasn’t done yet. He wasn’t done crawling into Locklann’s mind and whispering the most painful words he could possibly have said in that moment, just to watch it all take effect, and destroy him. Because, this time, it was going to happen, wasn’t it?

But at least he was there again, Locklann thought, while his head seemed to be splitting in half with the pain of Nissim’s shouts. At least he was right there again.

Locklann’s hands were clenched to fists. He was running out of breath, but he wasn’t done, causing his scream to turn into a choked cry. Even then, he couldn’t breathe in. He kept tensing his entire body, his mouth still open in the scream that had now fallen silent. Coward. Coward. Coward.

It was almost a relief when Nissim yanked his head back, causing enough pain to momentarily blind him, and put a pause to his thoughts. Not that they weren’t quick to catch up and continue their tantalising chanting. He did. He did want to die.

Locklann barely responded to being pushed back. It was only when Nissim was climbing on top of him that he really began to struggle. Suddenly he was beginning to understand his predicament. Those thoughts were never going to stop. With Nissim on top of him they were just going to get louder and louder until he’d explode and there’d be nothing left. He didn’t want to know what that’d look like. He didn’t want to know what that’d feel like. If it was any worse than he’d felt before the lake, then he never wanted to find out.

Coward.

“G-GE–” Not that he could really speak. Not that he could find the breath to do it. “OFF ME!”

He tried to get his leg between them, wanting to shove it against whatever part of Nissim he could reach in an attempt to force him back. He had to get away. He had to get away. This was going to hurt too much. Way too much.

Any other reunion, of any kind, between any other two people, would have looked nothing like this. Had Nissim been anyone else, he would not have climbed on top of Locklann like his was now, his hands firmly around his throat as he was glaring down into his eyes with an anger inside of him that he had forced himself to feel once more. Not that that anger was actually there, because things between them were never quite that simple. Nissim didn’t just get angry--not usually, at least--and Locklann needed to see that he wasn’t now. Not really. 

What Locklann needed to see, if he could see anything at all, was that Nissim was in complete control this time around. Not like when he had punched that man in the face, his nose undoubtedly broken and his balls likely still not fully recovered. Not like he had been in the car, nearly hitting Locklann straight to his death. Not like he had been when he had ended things between the two of them, out of a panic, with no other intention than to figure out what the fuck had been going on between them for the past months. 

No, Nissim was back now and he knew what he was doing. Locklann needed to know that, no matter how fucking long it would take for him to finally see it again. He was in control now and he would never let go of it again. Not now he had this. Forever. He’d fucking fix it, meddle with it, until Locklann was completely perfect for him again. He needed his mind off this again, fixated on nothing but just Nissim. Just like it was supposed to be.

Without much effort at all, he pushed Locklann’s legs apart and got right in between them, stopping the kicks before they had even done any damage at all. He squeezed his throat again, putting much more weight on it like he had done before, shutting the shouts out before they could deafen him any more. 

Then he raised his arm, gaining enough momentum and colliding his hand with Locklann’s cheek in a stinging smack. He had to snap him out. Had to get him calm. But not before he’d made it worse. Not before he’d pulled him back out, reduced to nothing but a--Nissim’s--fucking mess. Only then could they start again. No sooner. 

“You think I’d  let you fucking go now, Locklann? You think it’s going to be that fucking easy. Hm?!” Again, he pressed his weight down onto Locklann’s throat, squeezing the air out of him. “You think you get to fuck with your life like that just because you can no longer handle me?! Just because you finally realised you weren’t going to be able to be perfect for me anymore?! Hm?! You think you’re just going to be able to get away with that, you fucking coward?! You think you can get away from me now?!”

Even if Locklann had been paying attention to their surroundings, there wouldn’t have been a way for him to know where Nissim was going. Unless he would’ve kept an eye out for street signs, he wouldn’t have had a clue. He would’ve guessed they were closing in on a city, but he wouldn’t have known which one, or what that meant. He hadn’t thought of Nissim’s promise of taking him ‘home’. It hadn’t raised any expectations or questions. It had gone straight by him, as something irrelevant, because it had no bearings on what was going on right then. Locklann had no room to spare a thought for the future, and so he hadn’t been concerned with their destination. He had forgotten there would be one at all.

The car suddenly drawing to a halt came as a complete surprise. It wasn’t enough to rouse Locklann from his position in his seat. Outwardly nothing changed, but inwardly a slight flutter in his stomach overthrew some of his thoughts. Was it fear?

He couldn’t think of anything that could still frighten him. Nothing except everything, of course. But what could still be done that hadn’t been done before? What could feel worse than what he was already feeling? What he was feeling on that rock after the calm had passed and the struggle had started? He should never have doubted it in the first place. He should have just jumped. He might’ve loved it more to sink, if he’d just jumped when everything had still looked beautiful, with the stars sparkling wildly in the surface of that inviting water. He would never forget what it felt like. Next time he wouldn’t wait for the bliss to fade. Next time he’d run and fall, immediately, without sparing it another thought…

He’d felt it now. He’d felt the answer. The lake had been it. Next time it might be something else, but he’d know to take it.

Perhaps that’s why he didn’t respond to Nissim’s words immediately, like he would have done two weeks ago. He would’ve pushed himself up, looked Nissim straight in the eyes, and given his answer. But tonight he didn’t. He simply listened, as Nissim continued to speak. It was dark between them.

Nissim reached out and a moment later Locklann’s skin was tingling where Nissim’s hand had briefly been wrapped around his neck, before moving up to his hair. It didn’t cause his heart to jolt like it used to, but he could feel that slight wave of nausea that followed a shot of adrenaline he hadn’t noticed had hit his system just then.

Suddenly he was being yanked forward, his body forced into a position so uncomfortable that he gasped. But even so, it was certainly less a response anyone else would’ve had in his position. It was less than he might’ve responded two weeks ago.

Nissim smelled the way he was supposed to. That was the first thought that went through Locklann’s mind, and for a moment he thought he might just slip asleep if he could stay here for a moment–regardless of the position his spine was currently forced into–and if Nissim would just hold him. But then all the darkness, all the confusion, all the mess in his mind twisted a hundred and eighty degrees. The entire world spun. Locklann couldn’t remember what he’d been doing one second ago. He couldn’t remember what he’d been thinking. He forgot to finish his breath.

Finally a fucking coward?

His hand shot up. He thought he might grab for Nissim’s hand in his hair, and attempt to pull it free, but instead it shot to the side of his head, pressing flat over his ear, like he could still block the sound of what had already been said. Then his fingers moved up between the strands of his hair, so he could yank on it, because he had to get rid of the thoughts somehow. But that didn’t work. Didn’t work at all. So instead his hand moved forward and he slammed his fist down against Nissim’s chest, while trying to pull back. Not because he wanted to get away–he had no idea what he wanted anymore–but because his entire body had been prepared to do just one thing; scream.

This was what Nissim had always done. He’d leave a mark, one of any kind. He’d push too far and too hard, sometimes planting a seed in Locklann’s brain that would only begin to grow more and more over time, just so that he could see him begin to fall apart as the time passed. He’d inflict trauma upon him, put him through more stress than any person would ever be able to handle. He’d destroy him physically, whipping him, biting him, smacking him down until there was nothing left but a bleeding little mess. He’d fuck him up with words, like a stab through his fresh wounds. He’d rape him, continuously. Until there was nothing left of him. 

And then he’d pick up the pieces. Then he’d pull him in, safely in his arms while giving him no fucking space to move and no space to breathe. He’d see him begin to fall apart in his grip, struggling and fighting against him and Nissim would begin to love him more. He’d fix him, no matter what it took and no matter that there would always be a part of him that’d be lost for good. Always. No questions asked. 

Locklann needed him then, the words coming like a dagger to his skull. He was desperate to unhear them, while fighting against them with all his might. A smack followed, leaving Nissim’s chest with a somewhat painful sting, then a deafening scream. Nissim only held onto him more tightly, determined to keep him there. 

Nissim loved him so fucking much. 

“Tell me!” Nissim shouted, making sure to be audible over the scream. His face was so close to him, and so he was shouting the words straight into his head. “Would you rather have been fucking dead? Do you hate that you were stopped? Is it still all you fucking want, Locklann? Hm?! Is that fucking easier for you, you pathetic little cunt? Fucking coward. Hm?!”

He gave Locklann’s hair another yank, ripping him away from his chest with an agonising pull. He let go of him altogether then, but then his hands found him again, barely a second after. He took a hold of his throat and started to push against him once more, positioning him on his back so he could get on top of him, no matter how uncomfortable it would be. It fucking had to be done. 

His breathing was coming unevenly. Locklann’s body had been worn out, but he was here again, demanding more. His feelings were wrecking havoc once more, burning him up to his very limits, and there was nothing Locklann could do about it. He couldn’t take a breath, sit back and wait. When had he ever been able to do that?

Instead he was glaring at Nissim, asking for something he knew he wouldn’t get. Nissim didn’t answer his questions. Nissim never gave him what he asked for. It had been like that from the start, and he was naive for hoping a night like tonight would change anything at all. If anything, tonight was exactly when Nissim ignored him, ignored his needs–no, no, never his needs–his wants, and blatantly forced him into that dark corner of his mind, where there was nothing but guilt and confusion.

He didn’t want to go.

Another stab of anger shot through his stomach, but then he lost contact. The pain disconnected from his mind and his eyes lost their focus. Instead of exclaiming whatever thoughts might have made it into his mind next, they never arrived. He was left to sit there and deal with the nauseating ache in his heart, with no idea what to do about it.

He shook his head, like it would somehow put the pieces back into place and remind him what he’d just been about to do. It’d been something. It’d been something important.

This time he slumped. He finally fell back into his seat for the first time since they’d started driving. His muscles were no longer tense and trembling. He let go of the air he’d been holding. His eyes resumed their staring, at the dashboard this time, and he felt more gone than he’d been ever since he’d been pulled from the lake.

The lake… What had he done?

There had been plenty of reasons. He’d gone through all of them. He’d weighed them in his mind. Even if, in that last moment, he’d lost track of all of it, his decision had still been a decision. It hadn’t just happened. He’d made it happen. He remembered the relief he’d felt when he’d finally forced his weight forward and felt how he’d began to topple towards the water. That sort of relief didn’t follow the shock of a mistake. That was the sort of relief that followed a long and desperate wait.

“It was easy…”

It could have gone either way. Locklann either would have exploded, shouting at Nissim until he would have no choice but to pull over. He could have lost control, insanity taking over and turning it into an aggression that wouldn’t stop until Nissim would interfere. Truly interfere. Not with words, but with all of him, pushing him down and hurting him until that part of his mind was beaten down enough to remember his place. The place he had wanted to be from day one. 

It was either that, or he’d fall down again, his mind drawing a blank. The explosion that had been hiding just beneath the surface would never come out, the current taking him deeper down and locking him back up in the darkness he had been so desperate to escape just hours ago. He’d live in it again, living while knowing this could have been the end. Should have been the end. 

He continued to drive the familiar route, knowing the way to the airport by heart after nearly two years of continuously doing this. However, he made a turn where he shouldn’t have now, driving straight into an industrial area that was filled with factories and office buildings that were completely deserted at this time of night. He had no idea what time it even was and he didn’t have the energy to care to find out. As if he only just remembered just how fucking tired he was. 

He parked the car in one of the many empty spaces, having ignored the statement Locklann had made for the past few minutes. Had he been anyone else, it’d probably have stabbed him right through the heart, but it hadn’t. Instead, it made him decide against his initial plan. He couldn’t show up there, while Locklann barely had the energy to stand on his own two feet. Something had to be done. Right now. 

He stopped the engine, the small lights coming from the dashboard fading and leaving the two of them to darkness. 

He looked at him then, as Locklann barely even seemed to register that anything had happened at all. Perhaps he had never wondered where they would go. Perhaps he had never even properly realised what home had even meant when Nissim had mentioned it, no matter how much of a promise it had sounded like to him. 

“Did I finally go too fucking far for you then?” Nissim asked. He turned in his seat, his eyes on Locklann. The look on them didn’t change. It was just as harsh and stoic as it had been before. No anger in there. No concern either. “Far enough to make you wish you were actually fucking dead this time around? Still, even now? Did I finally fucking find something that even you can’t fucking handle? Not even for me?”

His arm reached out towards him. First to Locklann’s neck, giving it a gentle squeeze, but then back into his damp, greasy fucking hair where it had been before. He squeezed the strands tightly, then giving it a merciless yank to lift him up from his seat and pulling him over towards himself. No matter how uncomfortable it’d be with the space in between the two chairs, Nissim had to get him closer. On himself, where he could help him. Would help him. 

He could have been dead. He kept thinking that, on repeat. He could have been dead. He could have been dead. He could have been dead. And he had no idea what to think of it. Did he feel relieved not to be? Did he feel ecstatic at having tricked death once more when he really shouldn’t have this time? Or…

His shoulders tensed and his teeth gritted, a quiet growl escaping between them. His head fell forward, his eyes pressing shut. Anger. There was definitely anger. But it wasn’t finding a direction to take.

In the back of his mind he was going through the steps, just like always. The police would have arrived, and there’d be a report. His name would be mentioned, he might get in trouble. His parents would get called. Cillian would be asking too many questions and Neil would answer half of them in amusement and leave the other half up in the air. And Uilliam… Locklann had no idea.

It wasn’t like any of those thoughts really made it through to his conscious. He’d not really thought of his parents and what would happen once they heard the news. He’d not thought about school, or the consequences this might have. At this point it was all up in the air.

Locklann wasn’t thinking about it. He hadn’t even realised what any of this truly meant, because he hadn’t even fathomed it had happened at all. He was just staring, trying to figure out why it felt like he was still drowning when his clothes were slowly drying up.

He listened to Nissim’s every word, because it was what he’d been taught to do. He clung onto them, ready to respond to the first sign of danger, or to ignore it while fully aware of the potential consequences. Depending on his mood. Whether he was feeling brave. Or whether he was feeling beaten, or crazy, or on the verge of collapse.

But what was he feeling?

Apart from the stabbing in his chest that he couldn’t figure out what to do with. Something… There was definitely something.

It wasn’t like the moment wasn’t right. Because it was right. It wasn’t like Locklann wanted things to be different, because he had no room for such opinions at all. The moment was exactly as it ought to be–he could feel that–but that didn’t make it okay.

Nissim was telling him off, like he always did, like he was supposed to do. Locklann could feel himself nodding in response to every word, sitting passively in the passenger’s seat. He let it all happen, let Nissim say whatever he wanted and he didn’t try to deny Nissim the privilege of stabbing him with every word. He could’ve shut himself off to it, but he didn’t want to. Not to Nissim. Not when he’d had to miss him for so long that he couldn’t even remember anymore what things used to be like, when he’d felt unconcerned to be in Nissim’s presence, when he’d taken it for granted. But that didn’t mean it didn’t mess him up. Mess him up more.

It was easy to conjure a list of endless mistakes. He’d misbehaved. He’d gotten himself in trouble for the sake of it. He’d ignored that voice in his head, telling him what to do. He’d wanted to die. He’d let other people touch him. He’d let other people touch him.

But that wasn’t why he was tensing in his seat, his blood far too hot in his veins. Locklann found himself snapping.

“What did I do…?” Locklann asked. The question was asked so quietly that Nissim might not have caught even a murmur. Locklann sat suddenly upright, his hands clenching more tightly, and his head snapping to the side to glare at Nissim. “WHAT DID I DO?!”

It wasn’t surprising, all these voiceless responses coming from Locklann. He was nodding quietly in his seat, staring ahead of him as Nissim’s words made it through to him. He was hearing them, listening to them, but his mind was too far behind to be able to come up with any of the suitable responses he’d normally have given him. He wasn’t speaking, despite the very clear demand in Nissim’s sentence. He didn’t respond to nods. Not normally at least, but now it’d have to do. He’d let it slide. Even Nissim had enough mind to force that kind of empathy right now. 

Just for as long as they would be in the car, at least.  

It was almost a shame that he had to stay focused on the road, because something was happening right next to him that he would have loved to devote all of his attention to. Locklann was battling, once again, the thoughts reaching him, controlling him, blowing it all up into the unfathomable mess that it really was this time around. He was summoning the images, most likely, thinking about what could have been or even worse--or better--what should have been. It’d all be coming back now, making his body respond violently. Nissim could see it all happening. Not properly, but good enough to make it fuel him. Good enough to love it.

The outburst took him by surprise. He hadn’t seen it coming. Not yet. He’d expected Locklann to sit it out until their environment would change again, truly leaving all remnants of what had happened in the car behind. Nissim had perhaps hoped it would make him wonder whether any of this had truly happened at all, so that Nissim could plant the memories into his mind, mentioning them over and over again until he had him begging for it to stop. Perhaps Nissim would stop then, but only if he thought it’d have been enough. 

His head snapped over towards Locklann, catching the glare he was threw right at him. Nissim didn’t glare back. Instead, his expression changed back to its natural stoic, stern expression he hadn’t been able to keep on his face for the rest of their journey. But now it was there, and he was using it to stare Locklann down, while remaining calm himself. He didn’t often respond to Locklann’s anger with more anger and he wouldn’t do that now either. Especially when Nissim was in no position to use his anger to his advantage at the moment. 

Nissim’s eyes shot back to the road ahead, the city coming closer and closer. “You tried to take yourself away from me,” Nissim stated, no strain in his voice as he let the words right out of his mouth. “You tried to take what is mine, after fucking misinterpreting what I said two weeks ago. Did you really think I was just going to let you fucking slip through my fingers, Locklann? How the fuck could you have thought I was never going to fucking come back again? Where did you find the fucking nerve to try and take what is mine?! Hm?!”

Locklann hadn’t even sat back yet. He hadn’t relaxed his muscles to slump against the backrest. Instead he was still frozen in that moment right after he’d been told the climb over to the passenger’s seat fast and he’d realised he’d made it. He was sitting upright, his hands clutching hold of the seat, and his eyes staring ahead at the road, though not really aware of the world ahead. He hadn’t even reached for his belt. He hadn’t even thought of it, which was a first. First in five years, anyway.

He’d left it all behind. He’d left it behind when he’d pushed himself off against that rock and fallen to the water. Ever since that moment things had stopped making sense. They’d just started happening, like an elaborate game of dominoes.

This had been going on far longer than just the past two weeks. In reality this had been going on for months. Somewhere around Christmas it had started. In January things had gotten worse. He wasn’t even going to think of February. In March they’d forgotten. But only for the few hours Locklann had been on his knees. It had been enough to instil a false sense of hope, which had shattered soon after, when things had gotten worse than they’d ever been before. But even then, Locklann hadn’t seen it coming…

I think we should break up.

Locklann’s hands clenched around the seat of the chair, his knuckles turning white. Nissim was laughing again.

Locklann recognised the sensation in the pit of his stomach–it was shock–but that didn’t mean he knew what to do about it. Nissim hadn’t looked at him once. He hadn’t said a word. Locklann might as well not have been there at all. No, that wasn’t true. Nissim wouldn’t have been laughing if he’d not retrieved him. A dead body then. He might as well have been a dead body.

But instead he had the privilege of being ignored unfairly.

Locklann couldn’t deal. He couldn’t deal with the turmoil in his own head and the multitude of sickening emotions that were causing his chest to hurt and his stomach to twist. But rather than acknowledge Locklann had feelings at all, Nissim simply ignored he was there at all.

Locklann’s hands clenched even tighter, while he was fully aware of the little prison built around him. The one that kept him methodically locked up with his demons. Nissim could relieve him–just touching his hand to Locklann’s knee to remind him where he truly was and snap him out of his thoughts would do it–but he didn’t. Nissim left him there, while he continued to get lost in his own amusement at the situation that had nearly killed his boyfriend.

Locklann blinked.

Nissim’s voice suddenly broke through the space between them and for a brief moment Locklann’s thoughts were diverted. But he needed more. Nissim knew that. It just didn’t matter right then.

Tired? He was far beyond tired. He was worn out. Not that it was the question Nissim really cared about. That’d be the second one, which had a dagger suddenly pierce his stomach. Nerves.

He sucked in some air. His eyes finally lowered and he looked down at his lap instead. His clothes were still drenched, sticking to his skin, dirty from the mud and the grass. There was just one right answer, but it would be a lie. After a brief moment of hesitation, he shook his head.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t imagine it. Locklann was sitting right next to him in a moving car, carrying the remnants of what had almost happened, but hadn’t. Just in time, because someone had seen Nissim’s presence on Locklann’s being. He had carried it around with him all week, letting it wrap a weight around his feet that had made it consistently harder to move. In the end, it had been enough to pull him under entirely. Like a pocket full of rocks and weights as he had jumped down into the water, never to come back up again. 

But he had. He was sitting right here. After having done every single thing Nissim had asked of him thus far, no matter how he might not have been physically able to do it. 

So of course Nissim knew exactly what was going on. He had known long before he had arrived at the camp, long before he’d seen him sink down through his knees. He’d known it that morning, when he’d been busy rushing over towards that house to retrieve him. Even when thinking he’d be there, in that miserable little room of his, wishing for the days to disappear, that the second he would see Nisism appear in front of him, things would be different. He would stop seeing things the way they were. He would not believe that Nissim had really come to get him. Because Nissim didn’t return. Never had. So why would he have now? 

Perhaps that had been part of why he had shut his mouth for so long, not yet willing to acknowledge the terror this would have left on him. Not yet willing to give into the idea that Locklann would not be feeling any of the happiness he was experiencing himself. In fact, Nissim wouldn’t even be surprised if the relief in seeing Nissim next to him had already worn off, having been sucked out by the same empty hole hat had held him captive for the past two weeks. 

He had almost killed himself. Successfully. Almost. Had he been alone, he would have managed. 

The threat hadn’t awakened him, hadn’t done enough to make him struggle to find his voice back. Hadn’t moved him to speak. Wouldn’t just yet. Nonetheless, Nissim’s eyebrows raised and he threw him a telling look, but it wasn’t the threat he had initially started out with. There was more he needed to do. There was more fear he needed to inflict, more regret he would have to awaken. More to pull him out of that dark limbo between life and death. He’d do it. 

It was hard to believe when the door finally slammed shut, locking the two of them within the safe confines of the car, while all the kids he’d shared the past week of his life with were standing around, watching with wide eyes, as the scene continued to play out before them, untouchable. Locklann might have wondered what they were thinking, if he wasn’t drawing a blank.

He was staring ahead, shivering in his seat, though not quite aware of the cause of it. He was trying to fathom that any of this had happened at all, when a moment ago he’d been so certain it’d end with a loud crack and sudden darkness. It had felt like the only possible ending to all that had happened. After the stolen alcohol, the conversations with his parents, the razor, the fights, the lake… How had it not ended with him beneath that car, ripped to shreds?

Nissim was calm. Perhaps that was most odd. He simply stirred the car into action and drove back around, like nothing had happened at all. There was no panic, or anger, or relief. There was just his stoic expression–like Locklann knew him best–and his complete control, which stretched much further than simply the wheel of the car.

The headlights were barely enough to see by, but Locklann had spent the last week of his life on these camp grounds, and so he had no difficultly puzzling together their exact location and any obstacles that might be in their way. Not that he could share any of it with Nissim, who possibly could have made use of that information. Locklann couldn’t say a thing, and Nissim didn’t seem to have much trouble finding his way back to the road anyway. He even had enough mind to reach out to the dashboard and turn the heating on.

Locklann’s eyes quickly darted to his right and he glanced at Nissim. He figured he’d been searching for a moment’s eye contact, even though he knew he would never have been able to handle it. Not that Nissim was looking his way at all. Not even once. For a long moment they sat in silence, until Nissim broke it, once again proving utterly unpredictable. Instead of saying something, or letting out a sigh of relief, or even a huff or a groan, he laughed.

Locklann’s eyes remained on the road ahead–what he could see of it anyway–and he sat there, listening to Nissim breaking down into hysterical laughter. It should have disturbed him–perhaps it did a little–but Locklann knew too well what was going on. Nissim might not be predictable, but Locklann had known him for almost two years now. He knew.

Locklann barely moved in his seat at all, while he continued to stare straight ahead, listening to Nissim’s insane laughter.

He loved him. He loved him so much.

Nissim couldn't stop laughing for a good few miles. On and off. In between he would stop, catching his breath and focusing on the road ahead, but then he would burst out once more. It'd become quieter, more controlled, but there was a grin on his face that he couldn't wipe off no matter how hard he had tried. Sometimes it would turn into a smirk, as he realised he hadn't even done as much as look into Locklann's direction just yet, but then he'd burst out again. Quietly, but hysterical nonetheless.

He'd never felt like this before. He'd never had such a hard time controlling himself, despite the desire he had to do just that. He wanted to stare ahead, but he couldn't. Not even Nissim could hide this unfathomable happiness right now, as--once again--he was ecstatic. He was so happy. Happier than he had possibly ever been. Happier than when he'd seen Locklann for the first time, after months and months of that dull nothingness. It had felt good, but compared to this it was nothing. Compared to this, everything would be nothing.

It wasn't that he didn't know what to say, because he knew. There were plenty of things roaming around in his mind. Various threats that he wanted to see the effect of, various questions he knew Locklann wouldn't have an answer to, and therefore many ways in which he could get rid of this uncontrollable happiness and replace it for cold, stern expressions and anger. Maybe even rage. Maybe enough to pull over, pull Locklann out of the car, and wreck him right then and there. While he was cold and broken, wet and dirty, skin and bones.

But he didn't say anything. Didn't want to. He wanted to savour this for as long as he could. He wanted to live in this unfathomable craze without even having to acknowledge that Locklann was there with him at all. It was too hard to believe, even if it was the only thing that made any sense. Too much had happened, too many different things having gone through his mind. From panic to ecstacy, to rage and now to... Goddamn insanity.

He didn't know how long he had been driving for. At first he had had no fucking clue what direction he was even going in, but as soon as he saw the Dublin signs appear on the highway, he realised it was the only thing that made any sense. He had to return the car, he remembered, even if that only caused for another series of laughter to erupt from his throat. It was almost insane to think that any of these practicalities still mattered, but they did. He had to return the car, just like always, no matter the state it was currently in and no matter how fucking inexplicably drenched the boy right next to him was.

"Are you tired?" It was the first thing he asked, over an hour into their journey. There was no laughter in his voice right then, no matter how insane the question was. It wasn't even really that he needed to know. He didn't. It didn't fucking matter whether Locklann was tired or not. Nothing did. Except, maybe... "Hungry?" The first theat on his mind. The very first question with only one acceptable answer.

Locklann wished he could watch, but Nissim had told him to stay down. He wished he could look straight into the headlights of the car and watch it close in on him. He wished he could hold his breath, brace for impact and wait to see whether it’d crush him. But instead he was forced to wait in the dark, listening to the deafening roar of the engine, which he couldn’t quite determine the location of. It was too close, he knew that, but it didn’t say all too much.

Nissim was coming to get him. After two weeks of waiting–believing he’d never see him again–Nissim had finally come. It only made sense he’d come charging with blinding headlines and screaming tires. There was no chance Nissim would’ve returned quietly and taken him carefully back with him. No chance in hell.

Locklann held his breath, the sound becoming so loud it swallowed the air around him. He knew impact was imminent. He could feel it in the ground. So close now… until the breaks suddenly shrieked and the car began to skid, rather than drive, and then it was over. Locklann could smell the heat in the air. He could feel the blow of wind that would’ve been the predecessor of getting scraped open against the underside of the car. Or whatever would have happened if Nissim had driven straight over him. He supposed he might’ve come out worse than–

No matter.

He was suddenly being dragged up onto his feet. His arm was protesting, but he barely noted the pain. He was alive. Nissim had him. He wasn’t stuck beneath the unforgiving metal of the car, potentially scraped open and bleeding out. He wasn’t knocked out, or wishing he was knocked out. He was alive. And Nissim had him.

Under normal circumstances he might’ve buckled over and vomited, if he hadn’t fainted, but these weren’t normal circumstances and his heart continued to race with every instruction Nissim gave him–silent or otherwise. He moved, pushed his body far beyond the limits of what he should be able to handle, and struggled to the passenger’s seat.

The police was coming. The world was working its best to try and stop them. It wasn’t going to happen. Not this time. Not ever again.

Nissim had him. Nissim had him.

The second the door fell shut, Nissim’s body relaxed. His breathing went back to normal and his heartbeat instantly stabilised. He was no longer shaking behind the wheel, continuously calculating just how longer he could keep driving for. No, he was just sitting there, his foot finding the right pedal without even having to think about it and bringing the car back into action. He was turning now, in a big circle around the open field, at a normal speed. As if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t nearly just killed Locklann and the woman on top of him. As if his his body hadn’t already accepted that it might just have happened. As if everything had all gone back to normal. 

For a moment, Nissim didn’t say anything. Instead, he did his best to calmly maneuver the both of them back over towards the parking as fast as he possibly could. He wasn’t speeding like he had before, but there was an urgency. They were almost there, almost back on the road. Just a few more meters and they’d be there. 

Nissim hadn’t thought about what to do next or where to go, but he’d figure it out. In fact, he hadn’t even really thought he’d be sitting here with Locklann at all. He’d been so certain he might be too late, so fucking afraid of what he’d find there, but now there was nothing left of it. Now he could go back to being calm and controlled, his anger slowly fading and making place for something else. Something relief wouldn’t even fucking begin to cover. 

They’d made it. They were driving, the headlights illuminating the road in front of them as there was no other light around them to help them do it. They were sitting there together, making their way out of town before the police would have had a chance to get to them. They’d been too late. Nissim hadn’t. No. He’d been right in time. Just like he’d been supposed to. 

His finger reached out towards the heater, pressing the button to calmly summon some warmth. It was too casual. As if he’d planned to come here and find Locklann’s body frozen. As if they’d just gone for a walk, Nissim having pushed him in the water. Just for a laugh. Just to see him struggle as he wouldn’t be able to make it up on his own. Just to see him almost fucking die. Because he wanted to. In that moment, the past two weeks hadn’t really happened at all. 

Suddenly, he could feel his lips curl upwards and a moment later, he lost control over his body once more. He started to laugh. Softly at first, but then hysterically, snorting as he tried to stay focused on the road ahead of him. How had any of this happened? How had any of this been fucking possible? How had he arrived at this camp, thinking Locklann might already have been dead, only to find him there, broken down completely, just for Nissim? How had he nearly killed him just then, just to get him back to safety and how had it worked? How was he sitting here, driving in an unknown direction with both his wallet and his passport still in his pocket? How had he made so many sacrifices, without ever sacrificing anything at all? 

He could not stop laughing, despite how he hadn’t yet said anything to Locklann at all. In fact, he hadn’t even looked at him yet. He just sat there, driving, laughing hysterically as he didn’t have a fucking clue where he was going at all. 

They were here. Together. Finally. 

From the first nights they’d spent together, Locklann had learned that he’d never fully be able to predict Nissim. His motives were often cryptic, and his actions puzzling. For that reason alone, he didn’t expect to know what Nissim was planning, not even now it seemed incredibly important to know why he’d just been staring into the headlights of a fast approaching car. It didn’t matter. Locklann would find out when he found out. And if he didn’t… All he really hoped for was that Nissim had thought about this and had weighed the consequences, but Locklann would accept them whatever they may be. Like he always had done.

Rosheen had stopped rambling on about how he should learn to behave and how he was already in enough trouble as it was and how he was just making matters worse and worse for himself. She had stopped all of that. In fact, when Locklann paid enough attention to the grip she still held on his arm–which was hard, considering he barely still felt it–he noticed how she was trembling.

Surely… she was thinking what Locklann was thinking; that Nissim was about to come straight for them, no trepidation about how hard he should push the pedal down, because there was no such thing as too hard. But in contrary to Locklann, who was pressing himself down into the grass as much as he possibly could, waiting for the inevitable to play out, she had options.

“ARE YOU CRAZY?!” Her voice sounded half broken as she screamed the words, but then she was moving. Her hand let go of Locklann’s arm and she was up on her feet within seconds, racing to get out of the way of those damning headlights. Locklann briefly noted that she was leaving him here to die.

Now all he had left to do was wait for Nissim to hit the breaks. Hopefully in time.

It was hard to know exactly when the woman would move out of the way. It was inevitable that she would, as no one--no one sane, at least--would stay long enough to find out whether Nissim was actually serious or not. The woman wouldn’t have any reason to assume that he wasn’t, especially with the speed he was using to approach them. 

She didn’t know him and it was good that she didn’t, otherwise she might have hesitated. People--especially those who knew him--had absolutely no idea what Nissim was capable of doing. Surely not even Nissim would go that far, would he? Surely he would know when to stop. Surely he would hit the breaks way before he’d even be close to seeing Locklann disappear underneath car--either as a whole, or as a fucked up, lifeless little body. 

The truth was that he didn’t stop. Not even when the woman had jumped away from Locklann entirely, just a few seconds removed from being hit. No. He had to get closer. He had to win time. He had to get there before anyone else would get the chance to. And he’d only seriously be able to achieve that if he waited for just the right moment--

He slammed his leg down in an instant, barely two meters removed from Locklann’s body. He felt the car slip forward--just like he had expected it would--and it caused for his heart to start pounding in his throat. This was it. Just a second and he would know. Just one second and he’d know how he was going to spend the rest of his life. 

He practically jumped out of the car when it finally stopped entirely and he quickly mad his way over towards the front. He saw Locklann there, his head down into the grass, barely a few inches from the vehicle. It was over. 

Finally. Fucking over. 

He knelt down and grabbed a hold of his body without even thinking about the relief he felt coursing through him then. He’d made it. Now he had to act before it’d be taken away from him again. 

As soon as he had him back on his feet, he started dragging him over towards the opened door of the driver’s side and pushed him inside. “Scoot. Get.. Fucking get to the other side now!” He hissed, his breath stuck somewhere in the back of his throat. 

Locklann continued to struggle, no matter how futile his efforts felt. He’d fought himself out of tougher situations. Over the years Locklann had learned what his strongest weapon was, even when he least expected it; the fact that he didn’t stop. He never stopped, even when they were on top of him, holding him in a death grip. Whether his struggle was physical or not didn’t matter. In the end, they’d fail to understand it, and that’s when Locklann would win. Their confusion would topple the fight in Locklann’s favour, and his sheer determination would win out. That’s why he didn’t lie still now, despite the strain she was putting on his muscles and the warnings she kept giving him. The pain should have been enough to surrender to, but Locklann barely still felt the pain at all. Or perhaps he did feel it, but it just didn’t scare him.

Where was Nissim? That was the only question he kept wondering about. He wished he could lift his head far enough to catch a glimpse of what was going on around him, but Rosheen made sure he couldn’t. Had Sean been stronger than Locklann had given him credit for? No… There was no way he’d prove a struggle for Nissim. No one ever did. So, where was he?

“Looks like your friend is making a run for it,” Rosheen said. “Now, you should think very carefully about what you’re going to do next, Locklann.”

Locklann suddenly ceased his struggling. His eyes were wide as her words registered and his mind was working fast to spot a lie. Nissim… running away? He wished he could say it had never happened. Until recently he had believed it would never happen. Not to him. Nissim may have ran away from all the others, leaving them behind when it convenienced him, but he wouldn’t do that to Locklann. Except… he had.

Suddenly Locklann tugged on his arm twice as hard as he had done before, and then he was letting out a scream. First he thought it was fear, or sadness, but then he realised it wasn’t. It was anger.

“Didn’t you see him?!” Locklann hissed. It wouldn’t surprise him if she wouldn’t have understood a word he’d just spoken, considering he was pushed down so hard his chest couldn’t expand enough for air. And there was grass in his mouth.

Nissim had promised. Maybe not with so many words. But he had promised. When he’d stood up before Locklann and had outstretched his arms. That’s when he’d promised.

Locklann tried to use his free hand to push himself up. Or in any direction, for that matter. Rosheen shoved him straight back down, causing an ache to shoot up his shoulder, followed by agonising cramp. It wouldn’t stop him. He’d just… force himself onto his side with enough momentum… and then she’d have the choice to let go or–

What was that? He breathed in sharply, but as he glanced in the direction the noise was coming from–the noise of a roaring engine and skidding wheels, that was–all he could see was blinding lights. He probably should have squeezed his eyes shut and tried to turn away in fright, but he didn’t. Instead he continued to stare straight at them as they closed in on him, his heart beating a little faster with every second.

“See? Of course he didn’t run.”

It was only when the car suddenly stopped and Nissim’s shout filled the air that he moved again. He ducked his head down, suddenly squeezing his eyes shut as firmly as he could, and waited for Nissim to gamble with his life, if he so wished.

Nissim knew that this could go wrong if he wouldn’t be careful. He also knew that the agonising rage inside of him that had led him to do this in the first place had made it impossible for him to be careful. He could easily crush Locklann’s body underneath the wheels of the car, killing him instantly, but not even that could stop him. If this would be it, then this would be it. He just wasn’t stopping now, now that his mind had been made up. The only thing still in his way was the woman on top of Locklann, who Nissim wouldn’t care to hit if she wouldn’t jump away. He’d deal with the consequences. Somehow. He’d make it work like he always did. Like Nissim did best. 

His whole body was shaking, but soon enough he pushed his foot back down on the pedal once more. This was now or never. Whatever would happen, Nissim would deal with. 

The car was in the perfect position, right in front of Locklann and the woman. He could make it if it stayed exactly like this. If Locklann stayed exactly like this. 

Locklann couldn’t quite focus on the world ahead. With every step he took it seemed to tilt a little, either one way or another. Maybe five years ago that would’ve been enough to topple him over, make him lose balance. He might have fallen straight down, defeated before he’d even stood a chance, but five years had taught him a lot. One of those things was how to be fast. And another was how to keep going when it felt like he couldn’t anymore. No matter how his muscles ached and his knees felt too weak to carry him another step further, he kept going. Why? Because Nissim had told him to.

There was something ahead of him, even if he couldn’t see it. There was something in the distance, right behind the horizon, and it was going to blind him.

He was going to be warm again.

He had every reason in the world to keep going. Perhaps now, more than ever before. Which was why the entire world was naive for thinking they could get in his way. No matter how fast Sean had been to react, no matter how quickly he was closing the distance between them, he was forgetting that Nissim wasn’t the only invincible one. Locklann’s heart was beating.

Sean’s hand closed in on him, giving shape to the blur in the corner of Locklann’s eyes. Not that he could spare a moment to look Sean over. He tried to pull to the right, before Sean could reach, but it was hard to manoeuvre through the dizzying haze in his mind.

It was never going to be easy. It wouldn’t have been the same if it’d been easy. Locklann felt himself get yanked back, forced to a staggering halt as he tried not to lose his footing. It was hard to run when his socks were wet. Painful too, but he didn’t care much about that.

“Locklann!” It wasn’t Sean who called out his name. It wasn’t Rosheen either, despite how she was quickly moving in on them. Locklann had the capacity to turn his head and look. Cillian was looking straight back at him. He was frozen in place, his expression one of shock. More than shock. Cillian’s gaze shot away, almost like he suddenly realised they had made eye contact, and instead he was looking at Sean. It took two seconds for his shock to turn around. “How many more times do I need to tell you not to mess with him?!”

Locklann had fought far stronger men, but that didn’t mean he stood a chance against Sean’s tight grip around his arm. “Stop this!” Sean demanded, but his order disappeared into the wind. Locklann didn’t even respond to the aggression in his voice, nor did he cease his struggling for even a second. He just had to… He just… He needed help.

He was being dragged to the floor. Rosheen had taken hold of his other arm and had twisted it behind his back with such skill that Locklann supposed she’d been trained to know what she was doing. It shouldn’t have come like much of a surprise, considering the sort of camps she ran. “Go get him!” Rosheen called out, and Locklann didn’t need to ask who she meant, but it was absolutely laughable that she thought Sean stood a chance.

It was highly uncomfortable to get pressed down into the grass with wet clothes and wet skin. She wasn’t reluctant to push his face down either, probably well aware that giving Locklann even an inch of an escape would be enough to have him make it away. He would definitely have fought for it. Even now he was still struggling, despite recognising the strain on his arm as something he wouldn’t escape from.

How long until the police would show up? How long until he’d hear the sirens in the distance and the world would start to flash in front of his eyes? There was no time. Locklann gritted his teeth and yanked at his arm, despite how he was well aware his arm might break if it was pushed up any further. Most people would’ve realised their defeat and given in. But he wasn’t most people. If breaking his arm was what it took to get her to let go, then he was going to make her do it.

No matter the strength Locklann was using to keep running forward, his body had been pushed through too much exhaustion to be able to do it properly. Nissim could see it all happening, the chase coming to an halt when the man’s hand closed around Locklann’s arm and started pulling him back, filling Nissim’s body with a new wave of impenetrable rage that set is whole goddamn mind on fire once more. He had hoped this would have worked, but it hadn’t and now he had to think quickly before it’d be too late. If the police was truly coming--which Nissim had no doubt they would--then he had to be faster than this. He’d have to do something radical. Something nobody else would even think of doing. 

There was no fucking time for another fight. It wasn’t that not every single part of his body was desperate to get op top of that man and punch him into the ground until he’d see starts, but there was no fucking time. And so he didn’t run straight to Locklann, whose body was now slammed into the ground by the woman, but he began to ran faster, straight for the car he had left behind in the parking lot. He’d have to do something nobody else would do. 

He had already seen that the man had decided on coming for him next, but at this point that was nothing but a small nuisance. There was no question whether or not Nissim was going to make it, because he would. There was nothing this man could do that could do except for slowing him down for a couple of seconds and Nissim knew that. No matter what kind of fucking training he would have went through, it would not have been enough to deal with Nissim. No one could. 

He was running fast, despite how his body had little left to go on at this point. He was gaining speed with every second, determined to make it before the man would be in time to stop him. He’d gained a headstart--thanks to Locklann’s failed attempt at escaping--and now Nissim was making a leap for the car that he could see getting closer and closer. He was almost there. He would be in time. He would. 

The shouting from behind him got louder and louder, causing for Nissim’s heart to start beating faster and faster with that overwhelming anger he could still feel coursing through him. The man was getting closer, making it apparent that his determination certainly wasn’t lacking and therefore Nissim knew that he had to do something now that he was still ahead. He had to make sure that he wouldn’t fucking get in his way, because once he’d be in the car, putting up a fight was going to be a whole lot harder. 

Therefore he turned around, his heartbeat speeding up and letting the fire inside of him fuel him to a point where the man would not have a fucking clue what to do about it. He made a run for him, grunting as his hand reached out to grab a hold of the hair on the man’s head. He pulled him down then, with a merciless force he knew nobody else would have had the guts to use, even in a situation like this one. Then, when he heard a pained groan coming from the man, he pulled his foot back, gaining momentum and letting it crash right into the man’s crotch to shut him the fuck up again. The pain would be too much. No one would be able to move through that. No one except Locklann, perhaps. 

He didn’t waste a second longer. He didn’t look back to see how the man was gasping for air and practically crying in agony, because there was no time. There was not a fucking second to waste. No matter how he would have liked to see it under any other fucking circumstance.

He got inside the car, fiddled with the keys with a shaking hand and started the engine. He took off instantly, straight for the field he had just come from. This would do it. This would fucking do it. Had to. 

He was driving too fast, the car slightly protesting as the wheels slid over the moist grass. He could feel the difficulty, but it did not matter. The only thing that mattered was getting back to that field and getting Locklann in this car. As soon as that would happen, they’d be safe. They’d have made it. 

As soon as he saw Locklann lying there, the woman still on top of him, he started gaining speed. This would do it. This would fucking do it. 

He opened the window, slammed his hand down on the horn once more and took a deep breath that nearly took him all his strength. 

Neil had been there. Of course he had been. He’d seen the whole thing coming from the very first five minutes the two of them had spent together, in that cramped room in the cabin they’d been assigned to. Room 3C. It had started there and it had never once stopped. Through everything, Neil had been playing. He’d been watching, calculating, making sure to get himself the best seat in the house. He’d done it, too. He’d seen things he’d never seen before. He’d confirmed his deepest wishes. He’d changed. And it wasn’t over yet.

He’d gained attention once more, despite how he had told himself to remain in the shadows this time. Interference could be so disruptive when not applied properly, and this had been an impulse–his excitement had gotten the better of him–but it had turned out alright. As Nissim’s head snapped to look at him, Neil changed again. He had the both of them now, rooted forever in his memory.

Neil didn’t tear his eyes away from Nissim’s. It was impossible to. He realised most people would have scuttled away from the fire in Nissim’s eyes–he could kill–but that was exactly why Neil couldn’t have looked away if he’d tried. It was… beautiful. He felt himself beginning to smirk, regardless of how he’d tried not to show his emotions this time. It would’ve been better if he’d stayed out of it, stayed back a little, but no… no way. He was ecstatic.

“He was talking to you when he suddenly jumped,” Neil said, not looking away from Nissim even then. It didn’t matter that he’d been told to tell Rosheen and Sean. He didn’t care for their response half as much as he cared for Nissim’s. “He came up a few times, but he was too busy screaming whenever he did… He was terrified.” Neil shook his head, letting out a chuckle he’d not meant to feel. “There was water everywhere. He let his breath go, just like that… And he wasn’t really trying to get back up. You know how he gets. He wasn’t struggling to make it–I could see that–he was struggling to just fucking die… Until the last moment, of course, when he panicked. But it was too late then… At some point I barely stopped being able to see him beneath the surface. He just… sank. It started going silent then. He didn’t come back up… couldn’t reach… A minute more. Maybe two if he would’ve calmed down down there. But no more.” Ever so slowly Neil’s eyes looked away from Nissim’s, to look at Rosheen instead. “It was awful, miss. I was so scared.”

Locklann was trembling worse now and his eyes were wide, but unseeing. It didn’t matter that Neil had just recounted the whole thing. He couldn’t really remember it in any details, even now. He just remembered what it had felt like, at the end…

He let out a soft cry at suddenly being pulled up. Nissim wasn’t being uncareful, but Locklann had no strength to keep himself up, and so the grip pulled on his body in a way he couldn’t really take. But that didn’t really matter when he found himself in Nissim’s arms a moment later, pushing back against him in an attempt to get away from the rest of the world. Nissim would do that for him, right? Nissim would lock him away so he’d never have to go outside again. Right?!

“Locklann, is this true?” Rosheen asked. He looked up at her, although his eyes didn’t focus enough to get her face to sharpen. She was a blur in his vision. “Did you really…?” Was she concerned? Disgusted? Telling him off?

His hand moved back and he clutched hold of Nissim’s leg, as it was the only thing he could reach. He had no words left to give her, when he’d given his last to Nissim. He might never speak again.

He managed to take another breath at feeling Nissim press his face into Locklann’s hair gently. He was really there. He was really back. Locklann was really in his arms, hanging in his grip, remembering just how easy it had always been for Nissim to throw him around. He was weightless in Nissim’s arms. He was beginning to remember what it had felt like to fly…

Run.

Locklann blinked. The blurs of people in front of his eyes suddenly sharpened, but he didn’t look at any of them. Instead he was looking at the spaces between them. There should be enough if he was fast. Not that he could run. He couldn’t even keep his own weight up, as he stood there. He hadn’t caught his breath all week. His lungs were still half drowned and his throat burned up. There was no way he could run. He moved his hand up a little, taking hold of Nissim’s hip, so he could hold himself up as he shifted. He moved his weight forward, his eyes remaining on that space between Rosheen and Sean. His fingers unclenched as he let go, but not without pushing himself off against Nissim in the hope he would gain enough momentum to keep going.

It was a miracle his knees didn’t give in. It was a miracle the sparks in his vision didn’t immediately close in on him and stole his frail consciousness. It was a miracle that it took Rosheen and Sean three seconds too long to realise what was going on, so that Locklann actually stood a chance, even though they were sprinting forward, their hands reaching out to grab him. He had to… had to make it…

This was a story told for Nissim alone, in a way Locklann never would have been able to retell it. No matter how many times Nissim would ask him and no matter how badly he would hurt him just to get the truth out, it would never have been this. It would never have been told in a way where Nissim could see it all happening in front of him. It would always remain this vague blur of thoughts that never would have made sense to Nissim, no matter how badly he would need it to. But this was different, this was the truth. This was exactly what it had been, with exactly the details that Nissim needed to see it all happening right in front of him. 

Locklann was just standing there, his eyes looking out over the water. He would look upwards, screaming out to him while every part of him was slowly dying. He wouldn’t have begged for Nissim to come save him, because at that point that hope would already have been lost. He would have given up on it, the past week--with all the damage he had done to himself--proving that Nissim would never be coming back to him, no matter how hard he’d try to make it happen. 

He’d be asking for permission, like he always did, but now even that permission would no longer come to him. All was lost. He had no one to talk to. No one one to confide in, because even those he could--perhaps even the boy telling him this story--would never be able to give him what Nissim had given him from day one. No one would be able to give him that. No one. No matter how they might have understood the mess that went on in Locklann’s head. It took a power that even all of the ones before him hadn’t possessed, but one that Nissim naturally had. 

Nissim would have done the same thing the boy had done. He would have orchestrated the whole thing sooner or later, had it not come naturally, and he would have followed Locklann everywhere he went. He would have stayed out of sight, always in the shadows, but always watching. He would watch him fall apart, after days and days of continuous torture and he wouldn’t decide it’d been enough until the very, very end. Perhaps he would have waited even longer, for Locklann to have lost consciousness all together, before Nissim would bring him back to life by violently punching the water out of his lungs. Just in time. Just how he liked it. The only way it’d be worth it. 

His eyes remained on the boy, even after he’d torn his own away from Nissim’s. Something had been happening to him too the past week, and Nissim could see that very clearly as the excitement he was telling this story with was fresh. It’d never been there before, not like this, and Nissim didn’t need much longer to realise that the reason for it was--well--Nissim. Nissim and the beautiful mess he had created. 

As it became apparent that Locklann was preparing himself to do the impossible, Nissim’s grip loosened. His eyes found the two people in front of him to provide enough distraction for Locklann to stand a fair chance at getting away and then--when Locklann struggled against his grip with the first actual strength Nissim had felt from him that evening--he let go of him all together, watching him make these first steps towards their life together as it should be. His heart was beating rapidly, watching a chase come to life just a little bit too late. Locklann was running for his life again, his body fighting harder than it possibly ever had before. 

For barely a second, Nissim’s eyes shot back over towards the boy. He hadn’t said anything, but by now Nissim very well knew that he would have seen what all this information had done to Nisism. He didn’t look to say thank you, because Nissim understood that it wasn’t he who had a reason to be grateful. Nissim had everything he had worked for now, but somehow he had given a part of it away. For free. To the stranger who had been there to see it with his own eyes, confirming what the boy had likely always wanted to be reality. 

You’re welcome. 

He took off then, chasing after Locklann and the two people right behind him. He’d be there if he’d fall. He’d do whatever the fuck was necessary to get him to that fucking car and take him away from here for good. 

Locklann couldn’t get up. He barely had enough strength to lift his head and follow Nissim with his gaze, but it was so important that he did. He had to know everything–every minute detail of Nissim’s actions–so Locklann could explain the world around him and know what it was that he ought to do, if it was anything at all. He had to follow Nissim, because he was tied to him, and Nissim’s words would work like strings attached to Locklann’s body and mind. He’d move in whatever direction Nissim would tell him to. That was the promise he had made him from the start, but he hadn’t endorsed that promise until right then, when he’d given Nissim… everything.

The one thing he’d never do… He’d done it.

Locklann felt his breath caught in the back of his throat again, though this time for completely different reasons to the ones he’d become so used to these past few days. It wasn’t pain this time. It wasn’t the smoke of a cigarette that had shut his airways as he’d tried to get it down. It wasn’t crying. Or anger. Or a mad craze that was consuming him whole. It was just… utter shock, at the way Nissim was standing before him, his arms outstretched, creating a wall between Locklann and the rest of the universe. Utterly impenetrable. Ready to fight, to stand, to fall down for Locklann if he was made to.

The one thing he’d never do.

Locklann’s clothes were clinging to his skin. His hair was dirty and sticking to his face. There was mud and grass all over him. He was half starved. Half dead. And there should be no reason for someone like Nissim to see anything but a broken mess as he looked at him, but–in that moment, undeniably–Locklann knew Nissim saw so much more. There was no other explanation for the way he stood there, for the venom in his speech, for the silent promise he’d just made Locklann in return. He didn’t have to. Locklann would have been his regardless. He would’ve let Nissim have him for free, as a prize for having achieved the impossible. But…

Stand the fuck back and you get fucking away from him!

Locklann was covering his mouth again, his eyes wide, his vision blurring with renewed tears, while he tried to grasp that any of this was happening at all. It never had. Never had before.

The problem was, of course, that Rosheen and Sean and every leader of this torturous place had signed a contract to look after the children that had been put in their care. And so there was no way they could just step back and let one of them be taken away by a strange man. Even if the police had been called, they’d have to make an attempt to stop the inevitable. Even if they looked absolutely ludicrous standing up to the invincible. Locklann couldn’t say he’d never done the same. He’d just never looked so undetermined while doing it.

“What are you talking about?” Rosheen asked. Was she tripping over her words? That’d have been a first. “And watch your mouth! Locklann, you’re going to be in so much trouble if you don’t listen. Your parents–”

“Hey now…” a sudden voice spoke up. It was low, far too calm for the tension in the air. “Keep it interesting. Locklann’s not listening. He is.”

“Stay out of it, Hogan.”

“Trying, miss. I’m trying.”

There had been strain on his voice when spoke. It had exhausted him even further, as his heart was beating rapidly, dangerously, and his whole body had been put into straining position that he couldn’t--wouldn’t--get out of. He would remain as he was, his arms outstretched in front of Locklann so that with every step these two people would take towards him, Nissim would be instantly ready to attack. And he would. Oh God, he would. It didn’t matter what he had to do. He would do it. There was not a doubt in his mind. 

It was hard to believe that he had just been pulled out of the greatest moment of his life, because right now he wasn’t even living in the aftermath of these emotions anymore. He was feeling none of it, as his mind and body had caught fire with something that went far, far beyond rage. This wasn’t something he had ever felt before, but he was feeling it now. Actually feeling it. It was awake and roaring inside of him and he knew that it would come out against his own control if the two people in front of him wouldn’t do exactly as he was telling them to now. He would destroy them without caring. He would do it against every single person who would dare to come in between him and Locklann in this moment. There was not a fucking inch of him that would allow for that to happen. 

“I’m not fucking letting you near him,” Nissim spat again, the swear word coming effortlessly out of his mouth once more. What the fuck did any of it matter? Why the fuck was that the thing they cared about right now? They’d done something. They’d allowed something to happen to his Locklann, no matter how Nissim was well aware there wouldn’t have been a way for them to stop it. Locklann always found ways to escape. No one but Nissim--from now on--could stop him from doing the things he was so, so desperate to. No one could tell him what to do, no matter what it was. No one but Nissim. “He could have died. He could have... And what the fuck were you doing?! Where the actual FUCK were you?! Aren’t you people at least meant to take care of him? What the FUCK would have happened if--” His head snapped to the side and his eyes locked with those of another kid, standing on the field with the rest of them, with a look in his eyes that barely took Nissim half a second to understand. There was a tone in his voice, one that--by the looks of it--wouldn’t have been able to come from any of the other kids standing around them. Nissim hadn’t seen it yet, but it wasn’t surprising to note that the majority of them were silenced with shock, whereas the others were downright scared of what might happen now. The boy wasn’t showing any of these emotions, nor was he hiding them. No, he wasn’t feeling them. In fact, he might not even have been feeling anything at all. 

Perhaps he was just experiencing. 

Nissim’s eyes roamed over him for a moment, puzzling the pieces together. He didn’t have the time to appreciate it now, but he needed something. And the boy’s words--even aside from their meaning--had come as an offer. Whatever that offer might have been. 

“You were there. You... Fucking tell them what happened so they might fucking believe--” He turned around in an instant, kneeling down once more to grab a firm hold of Locklann’s wet and frozen body and pulled him upright with all the strength he had in his body. He held him tightly in his own arms, but held him out towards the two fucking adults as if he was putting him on display right then and there. “--What they fucking refuse to see for themselves!”

He closed his eyes for a small second, his nose touching the top of Locklann’s damp head. He breathed in, waited for a moment and--then--planted the very first impossible command like a kiss into his hair.