Page 103 of All Your Hate

“Why are we in the bath?” My voice is hoarse from screaming.

“We were both filthy and you were freezing. I wanted to clean you up before bed.”

“I didn’t know you could be that nice,” I tease him.

“Careful with that attitude, little viper, just because you’re exhausted doesn’t mean I won’t fuck you again.”

His threat turns me on in the most depraved way. I’m tempted to see how far I can push him, but I don’t think my body would let me.

Relaxing back into the water, I lie against Bones’ chest.

There’s a sting on my right leg and I look down to see fresh cuts.

Blood reddens the water, obscuring it from view and I lift my hip so I can see properly. Tilting my head I try to read it. “Noah. Who the fuck is Noah?”

Turning away from him, I move to sit at the other end of the tub. He has a sheepish grin on his face.

“You’ve been having me call you Bones this entire time when you’ve had a real name all along?”

“I've been living two lives for so long. The life associated with Noah, I try to avoid and Bones is what the majority of people know me as nowadays.” He reaches out to me, but the tub is big enough for me to keep away from him until I get my answers.

“And you’re telling me your real name this way because?”

“Because you’re not the majority. If I want anyone knowing or speaking my name I want it to be you.”

I’m not sure how I feel about suddenly calling him a new name. I’d gotten used to Bones. It’s who he is. Or is it?

Maybe Noah is that vulnerable part of himself that told me about his family and let me buy an ungodly amount of sushi.

I like the sweet side that is Noah, but I also love the twisted mind that is Bones.

Love.

Did I really just think that?

“It’s up to you what you call me,” Bones’ voice distracts me from my thoughts.

I try each name on my tongue, but can’t decide which one sounds right.

Leaning back against him, I let myself rest. His hands wade through the water around us, constantly moving it and keeping me under its warmth. I take hold of them and place them on my stomach instead. “Stop fussing and relax.”

I don’t think he knows the meaning of the word. He’s always doing something or fiddling with the hair tie on his wrist. I run a finger along it and ask, “Why do you wear this?”

He pulls it and lets it snap back against his skin. “You have my cock to soothe you, I have this. Whenever I’m agitated or need to calm down I snap it.” He demonstrates again and this time I notice the raised white line underneath. Sitting up, I take hold of his hand and roll the tie lower.

“You…”

“Yeah, a long time ago now. My father had not long moved out and I made the dumb decision to go into my sister's room by myself. It was the first time I’d been in there since before she died. Everything was the same, except it wasn’t. I sat on her bed for hours, waiting for her to walk through the door. I was already taking a lot of random pills back then. That night I took a handful and ended up trying to kill myself. The housekeeper found me. After that, I fired all the staff.”

“But you stayed.” He knows I don’t just mean in the house.

Shifting my position to face him, I catch him swallowing, regaining his composure. “I went to Japan. My father said it might help me move on. In a way it did. I found some peace there, but I was still basically a kid.”

“I’m glad it helped.”

That little crease forms between his eyes like he’s questioning how I can possibly care about him so much. Weaving my fingers through his gives him the answer.

“Do you wear the tie to hide the scar?” I ask.

---