Page 57 of Seth
In an attempt to distract himself from the jaw-locking visuals of Seth doting on Ignaz, Gustavo rummaged through the piles of photocopied drawings.
Chaotic and rough, some pictures confused him to the point where he struggled to tell what they expressed. Most of them were made in simple pencil or ballpen as if Seth rushed to sketch things down before they slipped out of his mind. The others, drawn in charcoal, amazed with details and depth.
Gustavo sensed a story behind the Egyptian motifs. They reminded him of the tattoo on Seth’s back. The sketches of the Was-scepter and the ankh figured on dozens of photographs.
The pictures also seemed to have a chronology. In reverse order, they revealed the decaying process of the ancient Egyptian god Set. How, piece by piece, he tore his organs out of his flesh to give them to the mystical light.
The top pictures, Gustavo identified as the most recent ones, portrayed the god in a pitiful state where he had only one eye, a torn throat, wrecked chest, and festering skin. The last photograph showed a yellowish paper with frayed corners covered in finger smudges. On it, majestic and powerful, Set stood in his whole glory. His dark mane glossy under the sun, impeccable clothes stretched over his muscular body, and not a single blemish spoiled his obsidian skin.
Does he believe in Egyptian gods?Gustavo wondered, exploring the most recent drawing of the god holding a heart in his hand. Did I witnessa sacrificial offering? If so, why the fuck is the god missing his heart? Was it a replacement?
“Urgh!” Gustavo shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind.
A heavy wave of a headache brought him to the couch, photographs scattering around him on the floor and piling over his chest. The more he tried to understand Seth, the less sense everything made.
“How’s it going?” Diego’s voice, coming from above, startled as he hadn’t heard him entering. Gustavo groaned, dropped a photo to his chest, and glared at the glowing face of his friend hovering above the couch.
Their eyes met. Diego whistled. “What’s with your chin? Did you shave with a foot, or did Snow Queen finally become passionate?”
He reached to Gustavo’s face and plucked a piece of paper tissue stuck to his chin. Bringing it to his eyes, he gave it a suspicious look.
“Annoying,” Gustavo replied to both of his questions and slapped Diego’s hand away. He lifted from the leather couch, tossed the pile of photographs to the floor, and ran his hand over his chin to brush off the rest of the tissue stuck to the cuts. Sleep had eluded him recently, and his body became heavy and sluggish. Mundane, simple tasks like shaving, became challenging to complete. Right now, even he couldn’t deny that watching Seth had turned into an exhausting, unhealthy addiction.
During the last two days, Gustavo tried to keep up with Seth’s daily routine, but he quickly learned that Seth didn’t need much sleep, and he followed a schedule. Every time his watch vibrated, he fulfilled a task, be it taking a shower, working out, using a bathroom, drinking water, or consuming food. The only time he ignored his alarm was when the clock showed eleven p.m.
Losing interest in Gustavo’s chin, Diego approached the laptop, stirred the mouse. He watched the screen for a few minutes before asking, “Is it me, or Mayr looks at this boy how Gollum looked at The One Ring?”
Gustavo snorted and got up from the couch. He approached the bar and snatched a glass from the polished counter before filling it with ice and anise vodka. The crystal liquid clouded and gradually turned milky.
Seth’s image of a brutal murderer shattered to pieces as a new face added to the collection. Gustavo didn’t know which Seth was real anymore. An asocial, eccentric, and snobbish millionaire, the bloodiest murderer, a sadistic dom, or just a man in love who eagerly anticipated every little wish of his healing partner.
“What is it, are you disappointed? Did you expect him to cut the boy’s head off and make a wine goblet out of his skull? Honestly, me too… He looks too normal to be a psycho. Maybe he has a twin brother?”
“Disappointed?” Gustavo looked up as the words hit the mark, or very close to it. Indeed, he’d expected passion, love or hatred, but not this care, not this affection. At least not to this boy.
“Oh, so they finally got intimate. Mayr isn’t bad in bed, huh? I’d love to spend a night with him. Just look at his ass…”
“What did you say?” Gustavo’s hand twitched. Icy liquid spilled and soaked his fingers as he stomped through the room to glance at the screen. On it, Ignaz lounged on the wide windowsill while Seth enthusiastically sketched something behind his drafting board.
“My fucking god… You aren’t disappointed, you’re jealous.” Diego’s annoying voice scratched his ears.
Gustavo wanted to sink his fingers in Diego’s perfect hairstyle and bring his face down to the desk with all his might. Multiple times. Instead, he rolled his eyes and took a swallow. The cold, refreshing drink calmed his nerves. “Think before you speak; you sound ridiculous. Why would I be jealous?”
“Would you be jealous if they kissed?” Diego’s grin widened.
“Would you stop? What brought you here anyway?”
“Oh, right. Almost forgot.” Fishing the piece of red glass out of his pants pocket, Diego placed it on the desk. “This.”
“You can keep it. I have no intention of paying for it.”
Diego laughed, then nudged the piece toward Gustavo with a fingertip. “Look closer.”
With a sigh, Gustavo complied. Silverish flakes froze in their eternal dance, like snowflakes against the setting sun. They hindered light, making it hard to look through, but apart from them, the glass was perfect, bubbleless, transparent. “What am I looking at?”
“See the silver flakes?”
Gustavo’s attention spiked. “Yes?”
