Page 120 of The Butterfly Killer

“Hey,” he said with a croak. He cleared his throat as he awkwardly placed his hands into his pockets.

Patrice smiled widely as if nothing had changed, as if nothing betweenthemhad changed. Marcus wanted to believe in this normality, but his mind knew the truth. He’d become distant, even more so than when they were close friends before his loyalty lied with someone Patrice would no doubt despise.

“I brought you something. To celebrate your new office!” He held up a brown bag with cursive on it.Della’s Delights, a new bakery that had opened down the street.

Marcus genuinely smiled even if it didn’t reach his eyes. But had he ever been that happy?

Patrice welcomed himself in. He sat the bag on Marcus’s newly polished desk and started laying out the feast of sugar they were about to dine on. The assortment was bright colors mixed with delicious looking chocolatey browns only distracted Marcus for a moment.

“Patrice.”

The medical examiner picked at a muffin as he looked up. “Hm?”

“Thank you.”

Patrice stilled. His soft gaze was too hard to meet.

Patrice placed his arm around Marcus’s shoulder and pulled him close. “There’s nothing to thank me for.”

Marcus nodded.

“But…promise me you’re done.”

It wasn’t a question or really a request. The firmness in Patrice’s voice wasn’t subtle.

Marcus looked Patrice in the eyes.

“I promise.”

It was the easiest lie he’d ever told in his life.

Home had become the dilapidated apartment downtown that was a bitch to get to and from. The building it resided in was on the verge of collapsing, didn’t have a functioning or reliable elevator, and some of the floors were condemned while the rest of the building had been deemed “livable”.

Marcus’s treatment of the apartment or the furnishings inside probably didn’t make it any better. With the help of Patrice, they’d been able to clean up most of the molded trash, thrown out any dry-rotted heaps of clothing, and had dealt with the bug infested refrigerator that had decided to give out while he was gone.

The place definitely smelled better, even before things started to rot, but habits were hard to quit and Marcus wasn’t quick to say he’d fallen into depression however he’d certainly fallen into some kind of slump.

He didn’t bother turning on the lights when he came in. Shoulders slumped, he threw his keys onto the coffee table and kicked the door shut with his heel. As he stumbled toward his bed that was inside his kitchen, dining room, and living room, he loosened his tie.

He didn’t make more than three steps in before a large body pressed against his back and a hand wrapped around his throat.

The panic hit him. Adrenaline rushed through his veins. He reacted before a thought even crossed his mind. He threw his elbow back, hitting the man in the gut. The man grunted, but his hand on Marcus’s throat only tightened.

A dark chuckle tickled Marcus’s ear. “I guess I do deserve that.”

Marcus sputtered. “Roman?!”

He turned around, the hand on his throat loosening so he could. It was pitch dark in the apartment, but Marcus didn’t need to see to confirm it was indeed Roman. His hands went to Roman’s face. His face was shaven and his hair felt a little shorter, but Marcus could just feel the sharp jawline, the downturned lips that were now raised in a lop-side smirk, and the hooded eyes that had pierced straight through Marcus’s soul.

“It’s you. Holy shit, it’s really you.” Marcus couldn’t breathe, but he still pulled Roman in for a kiss. It was hard and rushed, a bruising kiss that would leave Marcus’s mouth sore.

It wasn’t enough. It never would be. These months, these long aching days that had passed between them had ripped Marcus’s soul into pieces. Seeing Roman now would slowly patch it back together, but it was as if he needed to make up for this time apart.

Roman kissed him back with just as much fervor. Their teeth clashed. It jolted both of them enough that they laughed, but it quickly died as Roman pushed Marcus backward toward the bed.

Marcus grabbed at Roman’s shirt. He had to hold himself back from clawing it or just ripping it right off his torso. Roman wasn’t patient. He yanked Marcus’s jacket it like it personally offended him. It landed somewhere on the floor. Next was Marcus’s dress shirt which didn’t survive the onslaught. Roman tore through the button-up, the plastic buttons landing all around them, some of them ending up in the bed. Neither cared.

Marcus shuddered as Roman broke away from their passionate kiss to run his mouth down Marcus’s neck.

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