ReignOverMe Page 2

  He sees himself, pinned against the wall of Dmitri’s kitchen, wrists bracketed between one of Antony’s hands while the taller male’s other hand is working its way up his shirt. His back is arched into the blond male’s body as they kiss with a sense of almost desperation. Spence’s mind is slowly crashing to a halt and his heart almost stutters in his chest when Dmitri’s voice breaks through his thoughts again.

  “I never listened to any of them when we got older and they all told me that you’d only be a whore, that you’d go after whoever you thought made the better target. I never believed them, not once, not until now, not until these showed up at my front door.” Dmitri’s tone is still cold but these words are lower, softer, and Spence can hear the pain and betrayal buried beneath them.

  His brain suddenly kicks into drive again and begins to work overtime as he places together the pieces that have been laid out before him. He looks at the photo again and this time he remembers the situation clearly and he can see the photo for what it really is. He’d been at Dmitri’s party and they’d been separated. Nervous and uncomfortable, he’d gone looking for his friend when Antony had come up to him out of nowhere.

  Antony had slammed him up against the wall and held him there with one hand, taunting Spence with his well-fed, well maintained strength. He’d struggled but the blond had only laughed at him and trailed his other hand up beneath his shirt. Spence had begun to struggle harder, had been trying to buck the older male off when he’d leaned down and kissed him. It hadn’t lasted long before Spence had taken his first opportunity to bite down on the son of a bitch’s lip, but it had apparently lasted long enough.

  Feeling sick he twists around and his eyes lock with Antony’s before he turns and does the same with Blake’s. He knows without a shadow of a doubt that they took the pictures and gave them to Dmitri. Their answering smirks are all the confirmation he needs.

  He isn’t about to let them win so easily so he narrows his eyes at them for a moment before swinging back around to face Dmitri. The hard look in the eyes that meet his stops him cold for a moment but he forces himself to unfreeze and plow on.

  “Dmitri, it’s not what it looks like! I swear it isn’t.”

  “Not what it looks like? It looks like his tongue is in your mouth and his hand is up your fucking shirt! Don’t tell me that it isn’t what it looks like!”

  Dmitri’s never really raised his voice at Spence before, not with such rage snapping out at him from every word, and the younger boy has to tamp down the urge to cry that suddenly rails through him.

  He’s so damn vulnerable when it comes to Dmitri and sometimes he hates it.

  “Listen to me please! You’ve known me for years now, so does this seem like the kind of thing I would willingly do? Especially with Antony, of all people?”

  Spence is on his feet now, standing in front of Dmitri’s chair, pleading written in every line of his body and anger beginning to creep in around the edges. Dmitri’s up in the next second, backing Spence down and forcing him to move across the living room to put some space between them.

  “Do I really know you Spence? Do I really? I thought I did. I thought that you weren’t the kind of person who would fuck anything for money, that you wouldn’t betray me like this. He told me about it, about how he was drunk and you threw yourself at him. He told me everything.” Dmitri rakes large, faintly shaking hands through his hair. “Christ, I should’ve listened to my mother about you.”

  “Your mother is a drunken bitch who’s always hated me.” The words rip themselves out of Spence and the hand that he clamps across his mouth does nothing to take them back.

  “Get out.”

  Spence lurches back at the words but he regains his footing quickly and launches himself forward into Dmitri’s space.

  “Don’t do this. Don’t send me away, not like this, not because of them.”

  He reaches out a hand towards Dmitri, wanting to touch the larger male, to reassure himself that he cannot possibly want to be rid of him. His hand is harshly slapped away as Dmitri turns and walks down the hallway to his front door and jerks it open. Spence trails after him helplessly wringing his hands in agitation. He’s tired and sore from work and hunger and he hates that he’s weak with Dmitri and his mind is moving at a million miles an hour to figure everything out but it isn’t fast enough. Dmitri wants him gone and he doesn’t know what to do to make him change his mind.

  “Get out now.”

  The door is open and Dmitri is a stone sentinel just waiting for him to leave.

  In that instance Spence finally breaks. He throws himself onto his knees beside Dmitri’s leg and wraps his arms tightly around the older male’s thigh.

  “Please don’t send me away! You’re all I have, Dmitri, don’t do this to me, to us. I’ve never lied to you, so don’t believe them over me. I’ve never tried to hurt you and I wouldn’t start like this, not in this way. You told me once that you’d keep me for always, that you’d never give me to anyone else. Don’t let them take me away from you!”

  Spence is crying, eyes overflowing with tears, and his thinly muscled frame is shaking with grief and fear as he buries his face in the soft fabric of Dmitri’s slacks.

  A harsh hand clamps down on his collar bone and squeezes until Spence cannot stop the yelp of pain that escapes him as Dmitri pries him off and pulls him to his feet. Another large, hot palm clamps heavily around his opposite shoulder and he finds himself being shaken hard once before he’s pushed roughly through the open door. He barely manages to catch himself against the hallway wall before he’s looking back over his shoulder at Dmitri who stands silhouetted in the doorway.

  “I don’t want you any more, Spencer. You turned out to not be worth it after all.”

  The slamming of the door and the click of the lock ends the conversation with a sort of devastating finality that forces Spence—no, Spencer—to sob aloud.

  He slides down the wall until he’s sitting shivering in Dmitri’s hallway, listening to the sounds of the television through the door of the apartment for what seems like forever. He waits for Dmitri to change his mind, to come barreling out of the apartment to follow him and apologize.

  It never happens.

  Eventually Spencer starts to cry again, great heaving sobs that make him feel breathless and ashamed but he can’t help himself. No matter their problems, Dmitri has always been the best thing about his life and he’s devastated and pissed that he’s let those two assholes come between them. Spencer curls in on himself on the hallway floor, shoulders aching with the promise of fresh bruises and feet cold thanks to his now missing shoes.

  Hours pass and still there’s no movement by the door, no sign that Dmitri has even bothered to check and see if he’s still there. Eventually Spencer claws his way to his feet and staggers out of the building and down the street in the direction of home.

  The walk is long and the pavement is hard and cold beneath his sock covered feet but he barely notices it.

  He’s too numb to really notice anything at that moment.

  Chapter Three

  Spencer gets home to his raggedy apartment on the other side of town hours later. His feet are bloody and sore but he welcomes the pain as a distraction and collapses face first onto his less than pristine bed.

  He wakes up a handful of hours later to his legs aching so badly he can barely move. So he curls himself back into a ball and cries himself back to sleep. When he finally opens his eyes the sun is streaming through the raggedy curtain and directly across his tear streaked face. He stays like that for the rest of the day, not eating, barely moving, simply existing in an almost suspended state of agony.

  He’s weak from hunger and relentless crying by the time he pulls himself out of bed for his early morning shift at the store. He props himself against the shower wall on unsteady legs as he shivers in the cold spray of his never heating water, hands trembling as he struggles to wash away his sorrow.

  It doesn’t work but he never r
eally expected it to in the first place.

  He’s late by the time he drags himself into work but he must look as miserable as he feels because after a quick glance at his face Mrs. Choie snaps her mouth shut and hands him the broom. She hovers around him for a while, hands fluttering in mute concern, before she finally resorts to keeping a hawkish eye on him from behind the counter.

  His body operates on auto pilot the rest of the day and he’s outside Dmitri’s apartment, hand raised to knock before he realizes that he’s left the store. He hesitates for a split second but he manages to gather his resolve and lets his hand fall against the solid wood of the front door in a firm loud knock.

  He waits for a minute, and then two, and then five, and before he knows it he’s knocked four more times and a half hour has passed him by. He stands there for a moment, dumbfounded at the fact that Dmitri hadn’t opened the door for him before he snaps himself out of his daze and tells himself that the older male simply isn’t home.

  He’ll just have to try again later.

  He goes back every day for days on end, goes at different times and stays for longer and longer each visit, simply curled up in the hallway ignoring the looks he gets. He calls Dmitri every day as well. He calls him in the morning when he wakes up and at night before he goes to sleep. At first the phone rings and rings before going to voicemail before finally it doesn’t ring at all but Spencer still leaves pleading messages after the tone. The sound of Dmitri’s voice telling him to state his business is a small balm for the loneliness that is threatening to drown him.

  Finally after almost two weeks Spencer is waking up from another restless night when he feels the cracked base of his spirit splinter just a bit more. He’s gripping his phone hard enough to hear the casing give a distressed whine as an automated tone drones in his ear in response to his morning call.

  “The number you have called has been disconnected. Please hang up and review the number that you are attempting to call…”

  He’s out of his bed in a flash, barely stopping to get dressed and grab his wallet or to lock his door on his mad dash out of his building. He considers running but knows that it will take too long. Instead he hails a cab and sits in the back fidgeting with poorly concealed agitation the entire ride.

  He pays the driver, unable to stop himself from wincing at the chunk it takes out of his funds, resigning himself to another week or so of further reduced meals. He shrugs it off quickly, though, and skirts his way around a rather imposing black car parked at the curb and runs into the building. He forgoes the elevator and instead dashes up the stairs. He doesn’t break his pace until he’s panting outside Dmitri’s door his hand raised to knock once again. Before his knuckles make contact he notices that the door is slightly ajar, and with trembling hands he pushes it all the way open and walks inside.

  He trails his way slowly down the hallway and into the living room and the sight that meets his eyes wrenches an almost inhuman sound of pain from his throat. He staggers into and out of the kitchen and the bedroom and the bath with denial in his mind but it doesn’t change what he’s seeing. Finally he makes his way back to the living room and stares around dazedly before his eyes make their way to the floor and focus there.

  The apartment is empty, all traces of Dmitri gone, erased as if they’d never existed. The only thing left is his pillow, the purple fabric is usually so familiar and comforting and yet it’s mocking him now with its symbolism.

  Dmitri has left without a word and the only thing that he hasn’t taken with him is Spencer’s pillow and by extension, Spencer himself.

  It really is over.

  Spencer picks the pillow up and hugs it tightly to his chest as he makes his way out of the apartment and down to the ground floor. He wants to cry again, wants to scream and howl but he can’t do it, he can’t find the tears or the energy to do so. He leans against the outer wall of the building and takes a deep breath. He feels shattered now, as if the fine spider cracks that have been spreading throughout the base of his spirit have finally widened and splintered him into a billion pieces.

  “Son, are you alright?” The voice is deep and gravely with the slightest hint of an accent and the unexpectedness of it forces Spencer’s head to jerk upwards in fright.

  The man standing before him is older, his hair is grey with a few lingering traces of black and swept back away from his face with elegance and style. His suit is a crisp black and cut with such exquisite style that Spencer knows even with his limited knowledge of fashion that it is custom and expensive.

  He meets the man’s gaze and almost has to suck in a breath at the sight of deep blue eyes as his gut clenches in pain. The shade is wrong but blue has always reminded him of Dmitri and that fact is not likely to change any time soon.

  “I-I’m fine, thank you.”

  “I mean no disrespect, young one, but fine seems to be a word that I would not readily ascribe to you at the moment.”

  There is a gentle hand on his shoulder and Spencer doesn’t even have to fight the urge to flinch like he normally would. He just doesn’t have it in him.

  “Now would you be so kind as to tell me your name?”

  “Spencer, my name is Spencer.”

  “My name is Marko and I assure you that I have no ill intentions towards you at all. Now would you please tell me what it is that’s troubling you?”

  Marko sounds so genuine, so caring, and it’s been so long since Spencer has had anyone to talk to who isn’t Dmitri. It’s so rare for him to find someone, anyone willing to listen to his side of the story that he can’t help himself. It all comes spilling out in a tidal wave, how he’d met Dmitri, growing up with him, how the older boy ruled him, owned him really. How Spencer had been happy with that, had been happy being Spence even if no one else approved, and then how it had all come crashing down. He clutches tightly at his pillow as his voice finally trickles to a stop and he stares up at Marko in almost shame.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone on and on like that. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize—after all I asked you to tell me what was wrong. Besides, I found your story to be rather enlightening, and I would like to offer you a rather unique opportunity.”

  Spencer backs away from Marko at those words, his natural sense of self-preservation kicking in with a jolt. He has nothing he is willing to give to this man, nothing of value to exchange with him and he will die before he sells himself to some sick bastard with too much money and not enough morals. His thoughts must show on his face because in the next second Marko is laughing delightedly at him.

  “You do have some backbone after all! Although I suppose you would have to, after the life you’ve had so far. Now then, let’s get on to business. I am correct in my assumption that you have recently completed your schooling? You seem to be about the right age to be done with all of that.”

  “Yes. I graduated a semester ahead of schedule. Why?”

  “That makes things much easier then. I will give you two choices, young Spencer. The first is that if you so desire it I will pay for your cab back to your apartment right here right now and you will never see me again. Or you can come with me and I will provide for you the opportunities that you need in order to have the life that you deserve.”

  Marko falls silent and simply extends one hand out towards Spencer as he waits calmly for his answer.

  Spencer stares at Marko aghast, his mind struggling to catch up with the conversation and the thought of what this man is offering to him. The nonchalant manner in which he offers it in the first place seems rather sudden and suspicious.

  “Why? Why would you offer something like that to me? Why offer this to me of all people, someone who can’t even keep his only friend from walking away from him? What’s in it for you? There has to be something in it for you.”

  His voice is hoarse and raspy from long bouts of tears and his extended speech from earlier but he forces the words past his teeth and into the air between them.

&n
bsp; “I never had any children. I suspect that I would have been a horrible father in my youth and I am afraid that I am too old to take part in that particular adventure now that I have the patience. In this short amount of time that we have known each other I’ve found myself convinced that you possess qualities that I would have been proud to find in a son. That is why I am offering this to you. I cannot simply step aside and allow those qualities, your potential, to be swallowed up by this cruel and ugly world. As for what’s in it for me, I simply desire the pleasure of your company and the illusion of having a son to comfort an old man in his twilight years. I have no other motivations, Spencer—I promise you that once again. Your decision child, I would have it now.”

  Spence hesitates for only a moment more, looking back over his shoulder at the empty and dark window that had once been Dmitri’s home. There is nothing left for him here, nothing left for him in the entire city, really. Dmitri has left, his mother is long gone and there has never been anyone else in his life, not truly.

  Clutching his pillow with one arm Spencer reaches out with his other hand and grasps Marko’s firmly. He forces himself to ignore the well-recognized flash of triumph in those painfully blue eyes as he is led gently to the back of that imposing black car he’d seen before and ushered inside. There is nothing left for him here so he might as well try and find something else to hang onto.

  He really has nothing left to lose if it all goes pear shaped anyway.

  Chapter Four

  Nine Years Later

  Spencer is numb. He’s numb in a way that he hasn’t been in nine, almost ten years now. Not since Dmitri, not since the day Marko stepped into his life and took it over. He’s staring down at Marko’s casket as it’s lowered slowly into the ground, the reality of the situation still not having fully settled upon him.