Page 48 of Doubts of the Egoist
“Well, it must be you, because… it’s Kuon?” Greg shrugged.
“You know what? Enjoy your stay. I’ll bring you some pismaniye[3].” A low growl settled in the back of Yugo’s throat.
“No, Boss…” Greg winced. “Let me come?”
Yugo grinned wickedly.
“Have fun! Let him play cop all he wants. Just make sure he eats and takes his meds. And knock before you enter so you don’t get shot. When he wants to leave, drive him.”
A scorching wind blew into his face, trying to sneak inside the mansion. Yugo released the door, cutting off Greg’s grumbling. “But I don’t even like sweets…”
Kuon didn’t knowhow long he had been standing by the rack, with the gun heavy in his hand as the sounds of his past echoedthrough the electrically charged air. Yugo’s words, glances, and touches had messed with his mind, making him feel guilty and at fault. He wanted to stop Yugo from leaving, drop the gun, and accept his terms. Instead, he stood still, biting his lips bloody.
With his mind stuck in the past, he saw no point in stopping Yugo.
When the pain from the shelf bruising his back became unbearable, he reassembled the chair and rolled it to the desk. Just as he was about to sit, a slim black box on the floor caught his eye. He crouched down beside it, and his throat tightened again as he unwrapped a new smartphone. The screen unlocked without a PIN, revealing a close-up of Yugo’s dick, held high and proud by his beautiful, long fingers.
“What the hell…” Kuon snorted and opened the contacts but found only one name—“Sweetheart.”
“Seriously…” he whispered, covering his throbbing head with his hands. “Why do I feel like an asshole?”
Sensing movement behindhis back, Kuon minimized all windows on the monitors. Still, the sounds of sex and combat continued to emanate from the speakers, igniting his face with embarrassment. It was pointless to search for the volume menu, especially since his eyes were too tired to distinguish details. So, he sat there, staring at his clasped hands. The breath-cutting scent of menthol aftershave made the chilly air in the room feel frosty, informing him of the identity of his visitor. Kuon sneered. His present was beginning to resemble the past too much. “What did you do to get demoted to be my jailer again?”
A low huff made Kuon imagine a ghost of a smile on abrutish face. “Not a jailer, more like a babysitter.”
Kuon’s head whipped toward the man. Yugo sending his right-hand man clearly meant Kuon’s position in this house had changed. So why was Greg messing with him? He cut to the chase, “Am I a prisoner now?”
“Do you want to be?” Greg leaned against the door frame, his head and shoulder resting casually against the jamb as the black, tranquil eyes watched Kuon intently. Though his muscular arms were crossed over his chest, he looked overconfident rather than defensive.
“Why would I want that?” Kuon’s brow furrowed in confusion, for there was no hint of emotion in Greg’s voice.
“Boss said you don’t know what you want. I’m just checking.” A twinkle appeared in Greg’s eyes, followed by a nonchalant shrug. The tiny movement broke the tension in the room.
Kuon scoffed, but his shoulders relaxed. “I know what I want.”
“Good to know. I hope it’s food, because I’m starving.”
Kuon wasn’t hungry and didn’t want to leave this room in case he wouldn’t be allowed to return, but fighting Greg would be stupid. The man was broader, stronger, and more skilled as a fighter. He glanced at the rack where he’d left the pistol, then back at his guard.
His thoughts must have been written across his face because Greg sighed. “Lad, I don’t have to use force to smoke you out of here. I can turn off the power. Whatever you’re doing in here can wait until morning.” When Kuon narrowed his eyes, Greg added, “Come on, keep me company, or the food will getcold. By the way, you look like shit. I’ll lose my head if you lose your sight.”
A faint smile tugged at Kuon’s lips. Just like that, with a few words, Greg loosened the knot of anxiety around his heart. “Why do you work for Yugo? With your manipulation skills, you could surely find yourself a better job.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, a kindergarten teacher?” Kuon shrugged, mimicking Greg’s deadpan expression.
“Yugo pays better, and I still get to deal with toddlers.” Greg’s bushy brows wiggled. It was such an odd expression, one that didn’t tally with the man, that Kuon’s jaw dropped. They stared at each other for a second, and then laughter broke out. When the laughter died, Greg beckoned him out. “Come on, I’m starving.”
Not wanting to argue, Kuon got up.
For the nextfew days, artificial tears and headaches became Kuon’s constant companions. He ate without tasting a thing, took his meds, and even made a few attempts to sleep. Without Yugo by his side, nightmares plagued his nights. He tossed and turned, unable to sleep, but in those rare moments when sticky dreams swallowed him, he saw blood, pain, and death. Still, he forced himself to crawl into bed every few hours, hoping his eyes would get enough rest even if he didn’t follow the doctor’s orders to the letter.
The more he watched his past through Yugo’s eyes, the darker his mood became. Every scene sharpened the contrast between the man who embraced Lena Vogel and the one whospread his legs for the Black Duke. It wasn’t the bruises and scars on Kuon’s body, nor the blankness in his eyes, that shattered the last shreds of his naivety, but the desperate way his former self clung to the man who had abused him, as if he were the only thing left to hold onto in this world.
Kuon’s anger gradually morphed into a dull, colorless melancholy because, even though his body responded as if made to enjoy male company, all evidence screamed that his attraction to Yugo couldn’t be real.
For something false, the thought hurt too damn much.
