#coratcoretgaris

There lived two persons, with one quieter than the other. Their names were to be forgotten, and only by these similar names were they called. Signor and Senor. Senor, the younger male, was the one who first suggested them to have some shots at home. That evening, after a light walk he came back with a crate full of wines. Then another of beers.

"I got," he said short. The crate made a clanking and heavy noise when he put it down near the door.

"You got them. Where?" The elder, Signor, completed his sentence.

Senor shrugged. It was of course impossible to think that he didn't know, when he was the one carrying it all the way from who-knows-where to the safe house. Most likely he was either too lazy or simply not interested to explain.)

Dragging his feet while he made the short trip from where he put the crates full of wine and beer, to the cheap, narrow dining table, Senor put some bottles of wine in his arms, and four cans of beer in his two hands. Common people would see it amazing that he could bring as much without fail. Signor, on the other hand, was purely amused by the gesture Senor made. For someone as young as him, Senor with those bottles and cans sure looked as though he was a boy getting his drunkard parents' errands. If it wasn't for the eye bags he kept, Senor would've looked like a normal, quiet teenager.

While the younger male arranged the bottles and cans, putting a lot of thoughts while doing so, Signor shifted to get their glass. He also looked into the freezer and checked between several amputated limbs kept there in plastic bags, if there were any clean ice cubes to use. Apparently there were. He put half of the amount he could find into a basin and was about to stuff some bottles in, too, when Senor hissed.

"Not yet," he said. Signor waited till Senor finished his arrangements. If it was something he would like to do, then the other would let him and wait.

Thankfully they didn't have to wait for long until Senor was done. He slumped down on the chair and folded his arms, now waiting while Signor prepared the rest. His eyes followed the older's movements. Then quietly he knocked the table with his finger twice, and said, "The usual one for me."

Signor chuckled, and slid the glass to Senor smoothly, playing the role as the bartender. Except that, of course, he was only pouring the plain, canned beer into a glass with ice cubes. There was not much to offer.

"No eating ice cubes, as we agreed," Signor reminded. There was a disapproved look from Senor for a second. "Fork okay," he asked without any question mark. Signor tilted his head a bit, pouring himself red wine of a familiar colour. "You're asking me if it's okay to use fork, yes, but you may only hold it," he replied.

But there were too many bottles and cans of cheap and common brands to accompany them in the said safe house, and they wouldn't be there for any longer than two days onwards. Signor mused silently of getting rid of them early in the morning, when the younger would not realise.

--

Kill Me

They were to escape through the unused drainage in the east of the building. Located deep inside, it was hidden behind boxes of goods and the darkness would be good to envelope their run. After all, the building had lots of ways for them to escape or hide temporarily. But the opposing armed men would beat them in number, so he would stay behind, and cover them for as far as he could.

But the plan was not to be, and they both ended up using more time on the way than they have predicted. Both Lino and Giovanni were now beside the fire extinguisher box, catching their breath. As for Lino, he was grasping for life.

Call it an act of inexperienced boy, or a simple misfortune, that one of the federal armed men was not as dead as Lino wanted him to be. That when the younger shot the stranger on his vital parts, he returned him countless of bullets all across his torso. And no, none of them two wore their vest. It was supposed to be a peaceful week. What a thing to laugh at, Giovanni thought.

But dragging the younger's body away from sight was more serious than he had ever imagined. Lino was gulping, drowning in his own blood. From the holes hopped in and out tiny fountains of red acid as he choked. The sight was funny even to Lino that he slipped a couple of laughters in the midst of his gulping.

"What to do, Senor? Do I go with you?" Giovanni asked, cupping the younger male's face in two hands so to see his tired eyes better. The other didn't respond.

He took out his trusted gun, and put it on Lino's side of head. And, his own, on the other side. From the distance, it might do good in gaping their heads open. They only needed one pull, then everything would of ended. Giovanni liked to think he was doing Lino a favour, so he wouldn't have to deal with the pain for too long (he needed three-four minutes to pass). Yet in the other hand, he knew he was doing it for his sake, too. That afternoons and time basically without Lino would be unthinkable. He filled the gap of what used to be his wife and daughter's, and rooted himself deep within the older male. And he spread, and outgrown Giovanni's vessel. To lose him, would be as far as losing his very self.

But that was not their way.

So sitting up straight, Giovanni fixed Lino's messy jacket and shirt, and kissed his forehead a "Good night," as he said so. Like ten years ago, when he first found him. He unsheathed his gun, and took out a knife. Then he cut a certain artery on Lino's neck, and let blood bursted out, draining him. Making him sleepy.

Soon there were not much left, and for once, Lino finally got the good rest he so long yearned.

------xx