Page 87 of Seth
Seth kept silent, watching Ignaz marvel at the figurine. When Ignaz spoke again, his voice rang with awe. “Can I keep it?”
Can I keep you?Seth thought, sharing the craving. “Sure. Whatever you want.”
Ignaz turned in his hands, leaving an empty spot on his chest. His gaze washed over Seth, and his expression darkened. “Seth…”
“Um?”
More than anything, Seth wanted to lean closer and kiss Ignaz. Plump and pink, his lips looked soft. The tip of Ignaz’s tongue escaped his mouth and outlined the rim, leaving a glistening trail behind. Seth’s chest constricted with need, and holding back became impossible. He inched forward a fraction when a low whisper thrust him back into cruel reality.
“Don’t look at me like this.”
Seth swallowed his thickening saliva and smirked, hiding in the darkness of his lowered lashes. When he opened his eyes again, he managed a fake smile. “Are you hungry? Let’s go upstairs. The glass needs to cool down anyway.”
He turned the furnace off, put the bird in the kiln, and strolled toward the stairs.
* * *
Since the day they parted,Gustavo watched Seth’s life without enthusiasm and with declining interest. He saw how Seth burned his clothes without giving a second look to the business card he’d given him, and this simple observation made him realize how little space he occupied in Seth’s mind. His pride ached. The voice of reason kept telling him that it didn’t matter because Seth would never enter his life and bedroom in any sense, but his possessive instinct didn’t want to let go of the idea of adding Seth to his collection.
The longer he watched Seth sink into his relationship with Ignaz, the more lacking his own love life looked. A couple of weeks of muddled acquaintance he’d observed on the screen made more sense to him than the year he’d spent with Hans. The feelings Seth displayed seemed genuine, and Gustavo already noticed the first sparks of returned affection lighting up Ignaz’s face when he watched Seth from afar.
To spare himself from the anguish of jealousy, Gustavo fast-forwarded most of the footage, but on the third day, when Seth drove the boy to work, his interest recurred. With his breath held back, he watched Seth return home, descend into the basement, and unlock the hidden door. Gustavo had already seen him entering the chamber, but the camera’s range was too short and didn’t cover even a sliver of space inside. Not giving it much thought, he’d labeled the room a storage closet, but now he wasn’t sure.
The low clanging of metal drifted from the speakers. When Seth left the room, ultraviolet light leaked out from the door. He re-entered the room forty-five minutes later, carrying a small oven. The light died, and the metal clanged again.
Seth spent all that day in the basement. He lowered the elevator platform and quickly assembled a massive metal frame, supported by a few flat weights. Four fist-thick chains were secured with massive carabiners to the top and side bars. At first, Gustavo didn’t understand what purpose they served, but then the magic began.
Seth didn’t use any references as he fused glass together with a hand torch and more molten chunks. Deformed pieces that had no particular form joined together seamlessly, gaining shape and dimension. The colors deepened, textures bled out, forming a sinuous knot of muscles that resembled a heart.
When the sickle moon clawed up into the sky and anchored its flank behind the lifted garage door, right above the opening in the ceiling, Seth glanced at his watch. He turned the furnace off, showered, changed into jeans and a shirt, and drove to fetch Ignaz from work.
Even after Seth left, Gustavo sat in the dark, watching the glass heart glint in the night. Pieces of transparent barbed wire lay around, and a hole gaped in the middle of the sculpture, but Gustavo already knew what this heart was supposed to contain.
The door creaked open, a click sounded, and light blazed through the darkness, blinding him for a second. Gustavo blinked the burn off before meeting squished together brows. Arms folded over his chest; Hans rested his back against the wall. He didn’t say a word, but his expression spoke volumes. Today, he wore a plain black shirt and tight-fitting pants that nearly ripped over his hips. He didn’t flirt, smile, or attempt to talk; he just looked at Gustavo with eyes full of reproach.
Gustavo got up. “You could have picked up at least once.”
“If you wanted to see me, you could have come to the Uni. It’s not as if I melted into thin air.”
“I figured you needed space.” Slowly, like a snake cornering its prey, Gustavo slunk toward the door. “You look good.”
Finger reaching up, Gustavo tried to catch a stray curl of straw hair, but Hans slapped his hand away. “No thanks to you.”
Gustavo’s blood warmed like it always did when Hans resisted him. He leaned closer, framing the blond head with his forearms. “Is that so?”
Hans’ hand darted forward and pushed his chest. “I didn’t come for this.”
“Then why did you come?” When the boy didn’t answer, Gustavo pinned him to the wall. His hips rocked, brushing his full-blooded erection against Hans’ hip.
“I got a job in Milan.”
“Modeling?”
“Yes.”
“Haven’t I told you to leave this idea?”
“I don’t care what you said.”
