Page 80 of Doubts of the Egoist
Kuon limped forward. His arm wrapped around Yugo’s throat as he yanked him back and away, taking his place. His palm slammed into Rick’s heated chest, forcing more distance between him and Yugo.
“Enough, Rick,” he growled, but Rick’s eyes were insane as he charged at Yugo. His shoulder slammed into Kuon’s as he rammed through, sending Kuon’s feet sliding across the floor, unable to find a foothold. “I said, stop!”
A cold hand from behind landed on his forehead and jerked him backward, forcing a painful arch in his spine. Yugo’s ankle tripped him, restoring the original arrangement where he was face to face with Rick, and Kuon landed back on the floor. At the last moment, the former cop twisted in the air, using his palms to cushion his landing instead of hitting the ground with his shoulder blades. The toe of Yugo’s shoe stabbed painfully under his ribs, rolling him out of the way.
“Stay down,” Yugo growled through controlled pants, but Kuon was already scrambling to his feet.
He reached for Rick’s hand at the same moment the blade tore the fine fabric of Yugo’s jacket.
“You want to go to jail? Get back!” Kuon yelled, intercepting Rick’s armed hand and slamming it against his ownknee. At the same time, he blocked Yugo’s fist that flew at his head, where Rick’s throat had been a moment ago. The knife fell to the floor. Kuon kicked it away, hissing as the blade grazed his injured big toe. Pain shot up his leg, making it buckle. The room swirled as someone shoved him in the shoulder. A stray fist landed on his ribs and an elbow slammed into his ear. He lost all sense of up and down as he tumbled onto his ass but surged back up the next instant.
Yugo wrapped his forearm around Rick’s neck and locked him in a chokehold.
“I said, enough!” Kuon tore the sheet off the bed and threw it over Yugo’s head. He yanked back with all his might, trying to break the fight.
“Stay down,” the Black Duke growled. The sheet slipped off his head as he ducked toward Kuon, throwing Rick to the ground as he did.
A headbutt to the solar plexus knocked the air out of Kuon’s lungs. Surprise and disappointment flashed through his mind as his foot got caught in the fabric and his balance shifted. The room swirled. The last thing he saw was Rick’s face being slammed into the floor, before something sharp shattered his skull into a million pieces, stealing the light.
Lilac dawn smearedtransparent clouds across the narrow band of sky above the black forest. Tall, pointy pines plucked the last blinking stars from the vault, while the waning moon still struggled to hold sway over the brightening sky.
Yugo’s gaze roamed over the landscape, but he saw none of it. He hardly noticed anything but the bitter taste of cigarettesand the alcohol burning in his throat.
His hands itched to grab a gun, put a bullet in Kuon’s stomach, then sit by his side, watching him die in agony. Only, he already knew he wouldn’t be able to do it. Kuon’s loss of consciousness after hitting his head paralyzed him with dread. Without checking whether Rick was still breathing, he frantically grabbed Kuon’s limp body, dragged him out of the apartment, and ordered Greg to drive to the hospital.
Even after Kuon regained consciousness, Yugo found no peace. He paced up and down the corridor, waiting for Kuon to be examined. The doctor’s report confirmed Kuon hadn’t suffered any serious injuries other than a mild concussion, exhaustion, dehydration, and tissue inflammation on the soles of his feet that caused a slight fever. Still, Yugo couldn’t relax.
Kuon’s reactions had been slow, and he was unsteady on his feet, as if drunk. He held his hand over his injured temple and looked at Yugo as if he didn’t recognize him. He observed his surroundings with the same lack of recognition. What disturbed Yugo the most was the absence of fight or curiosity about his friend’s fate, and Kuon’s inability to keep his eyes open.
In that blue corridor stenching of alcohol rub and disinfectant, Yugo realized how much power over himself he had surrendered to Kuon. The thought plagued him.
To calm his nerves, he fished a new cigarette out of his chest pocket and lit it, giving himself time to filter through his tangled emotions.
Despite his determination not to look at the cause of his madness, he couldn’t help but glance in the rearview mirror. The motionless, naked body lay on the seats, the constellations of hickeys glowing on pale skin.
I can’t fucking believe it…An ironic snort broke through Yugo’s clenched teeth. The banality of the situation was almost funny because he’d never imagined that something like this could happen to him, the Black Duke—one of the most fearsome men in Vienna, if not in all of Europe.Have I been so lenient to you that you have forgotten how to fear me? If so, I will remind you. A dogthat bites the hand that feeds it usually licks the boot that kicks it.
The ache at the back of his head worsened. He forced a cloud of bittersweet smoke into his lungs, unable to stop staring at the parted thighs.
Kuon slept, unaware of how close he’d come to dying today. The carmine marks glowed on his skin, sparking a desire to cut out every hickey and sew up the wounds. Or maybe it would be easier to flay Kuon alive? That would certainly rid his body of all signs of another man’s presence. The realization washed Yugo in sweat. His fingers twizzled the cigarette in anticipation. Gray wisps of smoke curled around his hand, slipped out of his mouth in a thin arrow.
His hands thirsted for Kuon’s blood; his soul yearned for his pain and remorse, as fire and cold clashed in a deadly battle within his heart.
Amid the screams of pure agony, he would have drawn a map of bruises, wounds, and scars across Kuon’s body so he’d never stray from the path paved with loyalty, obedience, and submission. He would have destroyed him… burned all thoughts of escape from his mind… bathed him in blood and pain… made him suffer until all fight drained from Kuon and he couldn’t go on without him.
Yugo had been with many men. He liked them, too, and sometimes felt something like jealousy, or so he thought. Nowhe knew for sure—the possessiveness of his things had nothing to do with the excruciating mental decomposition he was now experiencing. He loathed the wanton display of Kuon on someone else’s bed and would have preferred the coup de grâce of a real headshot to the suffocating impotence it caused him.
Yugo smoked, hoping the cigarette fumes would dull his senses and keep his mind cool. But the chain of puffs failed to dispel the feeling of irreversibility. Instead, it filled his mouth with the sickening taste of ash and blood. The taste of betrayal.
Just like a broken mirror, their relationship could not be seamlessly repaired. The ugly cracks and missing fragments would forever remind him of what it once looked like. It was impossible to look into such a mirror and ignore the harsh lines that mutilated the reflection and pretend that nothing had happened to it.
Red-hot rage won the battle in his chest. Creeping upward, it scorched his throat but had not yet reached his head. Still, Yugo was sure if he had a gun, Kuon would be dead. Rick too.
No one had ever been allowed to see his things in such a state without his permission or touch them without his consent. No one had ever disgraced him like this.
Murderous fever rekindled and flared again.
A puff, then a loud exhalation. Gray smoke briefly smoothed the outlines of the sleeping forest.
