Page 40 of Seth
Looking at his lover’s name, he smirked then started the car. “Let’s go home. Hans is waiting.”
* * *
His footfalls echoedthrough the hospital’s corridor, disturbing the hush. Rage bubbled in Seth’s throat, making it hard to breathe or swallow as his fingers clutched around the box. Rose thorns stabbed his finger pads through the paper, but Seth refused to ease his grip.
He passed the reception and aimed for the door when sharp hairs raced up his neck in alarm. He spun on his heel, glare clashing with the haunting, blue eyes of Ignaz.
Seth’s anger redirected. He remembered the stripping, inquisitive attention that had crawled under his skin during the scene, the intrusive curiosity that didn’t seem to respect privacy.
The boy sat on the bench hunched forward with his arms wound around his middle. Dried blood crusted over his lips, he sported a black eye, and he constantly sniveled with his bleeding nose. Under his scrutiny, the boy averted his face.
Usually, Seth would ignore this simple gesture of avoidance, but after the boy rubbernecked the other day, this evasion felt disrespectful. His rage sharpened. The wish to corner the boy and force him to acknowledge him sparked in his core, but the arm in his hands demanded attention.
Glowering for a heartbeat longer, he walked out into the night.
The wind thrashed his shirt as he walked out of the gates and turned toward the city center. Streetlights, symmetrically placed at either side of the boulevard, cast bright rings over the white paving stone beneath them and washed the lower branches of thuja trees in yellow. Under the gusts, their crowns bowed toward the ground, greeting him.
His vision sharpened as the surreal feel enchanted the night. He could see every separate particle of dust, every tiny leaf as clearly as the whole cityscape as if he and his surroundings were one. The euphoric sense of omnipotence syringed into his veins and gave birth to weird illusions of power where he could bend and twist reality to his will, just like he always controlled the desert in his dreams.
He frowned, disliking the idea of the borders of his sanity fading. Lately it had been happening way too often. He was about to reach up and touch his face to confirm his reality when his phone rang. Relieved, he pulled the device out of his pocket.
“Seth?” The stern voice coming from speakers stopped him in his tracks. His fingers clutched around the dead arm, crumpling the paper. “Why aren’t you in your room? I can’t find your clothes either.” When Seth didn’t reply, the doctor continued. “I see… Well, I strongly advise you to turn back. In your condition you—”
Seth chuckled. In the night, despite the wind, his voice sounded surprisingly strong. “Ah, doctor, there’s no need. We both know it’s useless. Why don’t you save your time for someone who needs it more? We both know people like me don’t live long anyway.”
“That isn’t true.” David’s bass dropped to the lower octave and now resembled an animal growl. “I’ve told you many times; your lifespan depends entirely on how you treat your body. You need this check-up. Please, return to the hospital.”
“The internet must have made lying to patients harder,” Seth wondered.
The soft chuckle, coming from the speakers, mixed with a howl of the wind. “Yes, it has. Telling the truth too as now everyone is their own doctor. Despite what you read, you can have a normal, long life if you stick with your routine. You need check-ups, ration corrections, and exercises, and you need physiotherapy.”
Seth shook his head as he remembered his dreams and the bones visible through the festering skin on the body of the dying god.No, doctor, it’s too late for exercises.
Even if he wanted to believe David and stay, the arm in his hands couldn’t wait. Soon enough, it would start stinking, attracting the noses of experienced medical workers. He smiled with his lips only, cocked his head, then said, “You know, doctor, I don’t think I have time for it now. Maybe next month.”
Without waiting for a reply, he hung up.
* * *
His mansion greetedGustavo with a strained atmosphere and uncomfortable silence. The butler, the old man with silver hair that thinned out at the top of his head, lifted his hands and violently shook them, fingers spread. His eyes bulged as he nodded toward the office.
Without a word, Gustavo bustled through the door and growled as soon as he saw Hans standing against the window. “Didn’t I tell you not to enter the office? What are you doing here?”
Anger twisted Hans’ beautiful face in an ugly grimace. Instead of answering, he picked a pile of pictures from Gustavo’s desk and threw them forward. With a rustle, the papers whirled in the air and scattered on the floor. “What the hell is this?”
“Your behavior is pissing me off! Stop, now.” Gustavo raised his voice in annoyance but stopped short as his gaze landed on the images of Hans’ naked body hanging in the ropes and covered in tomato sauce.
Diego whistled and turned his back on the room, intending to flee, when Gustavo said in a low voice, “Don’t you dare leave me alone.”
“I’ll ask again, what kind of sick shit is this?” Hans’ upper lip thinned out and jerked up.
“Photoshop.” Diego deadpanned. “Gustavo is scared to confess to you that he developed a new kink. He thought you wouldn’t understand, but well, you know his perverted mind. He needed visual stimulus to...” Diego mimed jerking-off.
Gustavo glared. Diego shrugged and dropped his hand.
“Do you take me for an idiot?” Hans’ face flushed. He grabbed another picture and thrust it forward, showing Seth’s handwritten note. “What’s this?”
Gustavo sighed, slapped Diego’s shoulder, then approached Hans. His aggression evaporated. When he spoke again, his voice came out calm, tranquil. “I have to tell you something, and you won’t like it. Sit.”
