Page 16 of From Best To Bested

Roman wanted it to end, but he was too afraid to end it himself. Every time they tossed a mask over his head and dragged him to the arena, he prayed this would be the night he willed himself to move a little slower, make a sloppy mistake, barrel headlong into the sharp edge of some blade. But Roman continued fighting and wishing for death because he didn’t know how to surrender. Even having been defeated so much already, Roman couldn’t settle the fire that burned in his chest. He wanted to survive. He wanted to escape. He wanted a second chance, any chance to escape this hell.

Roman’s door opened, and he fully expected to be hauled out for his ten minutes of freedom to stretch and shower, hoping fora chatty guard on shift. Instead, he found himself looking up at the last person in the world he ever wanted to see again.

“Don’t you look like absolute shit?” Ezra knelt to meet Roman’s gaze, then scrunched his nose, obviously realizing Roman smelled about as good as he looked and felt.

“How are you down here?” Roman asked, his voice hoarse since most days he had to rely on his brief shower for a chance at real drinking water.

“My reign as champion has earned me more respect than it ever offered you.” Ezra nodded to the empty hallway, the lack of guards and the obvious control he’d gained over this prison.

Roman scoffed. He’d become a champion again. His own new type of champion, one without respect or reward, but a feral edge for violence that made the anger he held for Ezra all the more palpable.

“Geez, you really do look rough, man.” Ezra eyed Roman’s dirty clothes, then scratched at his own face stubble to indicate the unkempt beard Roman had.

Roman merely glowered, incapable of mustering much else.

“You’re not the only one who’s been struggling these past three months.” Ezra pulled out a Polaroid picture and tossed it onto the floor of the cell.

Three months. Christ, had it already been three months of solitary? Worse. Had it only been three months of solitary? Roman didn’t know which reality was worse. Time lost itself here, and he started to believe he’d never find it again. He looked at the photo, not sure what to expect, but had a sickly expression when he saw Levi alone in some candid cafeteria shot.

His expression had turned ghostly, his face filled with fear as his eyes seemed to look in every direction. Even with one single photo, Roman could see the fear etched in Levi’s expression, the paranoia, the exhaustion.

Roman was lost and alone in here, but his best friend was lost and alone out there. When he rejected the offer and refused the wager, he suspected Levi might end up as collateral damage, but he hoped… But hope was foolish, and Roman knew nothing ever came from it.

“Come to gloat?”

“Come to help,” Ezra replied. “I’d like to make you an offer one more time.”

“Make Levi the offer.” Roman tossed the picture at him. “He’s not a bottom, from what he claims, but you’ve got a better shot with him than me.”

Roman wanted to be strong, wanted to prove he’d made the right decision, but most of all, he hoped Ezra didn’t simply shrug and walk away. Roman wasn’t ready to close the door on this deal, even if he knew he should.

“Even if I wanted to be Levi’s friend, he still doesn’t wanna be mine.” Ezra picked up the picture and turned it to face Roman. “Some deluded loyalty to you. The guy’s survival instincts are seriously lacking. With your stubborn behavior, life has been hard on Levi. I imagine it could get a lot easier if the world knew he was in my good graces.”

“Tell him to let me go, to be your friend,” Roman said. “Hell, bring him here, and I’ll tell him.”

“Even if I could swing that, I don’t want his friendship.” Ezra stared Roman down, stared through him, stared deep inside his soul. “I want yours. I want you.”

Roman stayed quiet.

“Uphold our original deal, and I’ll do the same,” Ezra explained. “I’ll keep everyone off Levi. I’ll keep everyone off you.”

“Except for you,” Roman said with a bit more snark than he thought he had left in him. “You’d very much be on me, inside me, controlling me every which way, right?”

“That was the wager, wasn’t it?” Ezra asked, no mocking tone in his voice, but it still stung Roman’s ears. “This is the last time I will offer my friendship. My clout is powerful, and it affords me favors, but even I only have so much sway.”

“Just win a few more matches.” Roman sarcastically punched a fist in the air. “The bigger the champion, the more loyalty you earn. Trust me on that.”

Ezra gave Roman a dark look. “When this door closes, you’re on your own.”

“I’m used to it.”

“The next time they open your cell, it’ll either be to lead you to my cell or back to The Pit, where you’ll huff and puff and fight until you fall down. Forever.”

It was a definitive statement, not one of speculation. Ezra had the warden’s ear and favor, and he likely understood the old bastard had grown tired of Roman clawing at victories and fighting to live one more pathetic day.

Roman almost considered accepting that harsh fate. Dying didn’t seem like the absolute worst thing. He considered it a quiet ignoble death and far better than living longer only to suffer. He no longer had anyone in his corner, in his life…but then he considered the single friend he had. A true friend, not some façade of play pretend that Ezra painted.

“Levi would have a chance?” he asked more to himself than seeking further clarification from Ezra.

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