Page 43 of His Favorite Color is Blood
Grim scratched his head and passed Misha a pack of matches. “It’ll be cozy here. And I always visit these ruins when I’m around.”
Misha got to his knees and crawled toward the tidy stack of dry wood that Grim had prepared. He shook his head and smiled, enjoying the freedom of the new, lighter haircut. “Did anyone actually die in the fire?” he asked and lit a match. When he threw it into the campfire, the wood went up in flames immediately, so Grim must have poured something flammable over it.
Grim hummed behind him, and Misha heard the sound of a can opening. Grim had a beer in his hand, and he leaned back against the wall, far away from the flames reflected in his eyes. The glass pendant with the tiny skull glistened in the light, as it lay flat on his chest. “One person.”
Misha returned to the blanket and cuddled up in Grim’s big hoodie that he was still wearing despite having two of his own. It smelled of Grim’s skin and the spicy cologne he favored, and so Misha put it on to feel Grim’s presence even when he wasn’t around. “Who?”
Grim exhaled and put an arm around Misha as he sipped his beer, watching the fire for a moment. “The disabled kid I told you about. He lived here.”
Misha’s eyes grew wider, and he looked up at Grim. “Oh.” He went silent for a moment, his mind going white and empty. He should have made the connection earlier. “So is this how your interest developed? Watching the neighbor?”
Grim shrugged, and a strange smile passed through his lips without reaching his eyes. “Who knows. He died in that fire when I was still very young.”
Misha threw the ponytail into the fire, and it went up in flames like an offering to the old gods. “That’s horrible.”
Grim gulped down what seemed like half the can of beer, curling his legs farther away from the bursting fire. “He was really close with Logan, his younger cousin. They had a ... thing going on.”
“What? You perved on them?” He slapped Grim’s arm.
Grim smirked. “I saw them from my window once. They were not acting like cousins, but they were always together. I suppose, with his cousin confined to the house, Logan was always by his side to help out. The guy had terrible pain in his stumps, so Logan would comfort him. Maybe that’s how they stopped acting like cousins. That it wasn’t planned and just happened.”
Misha cuddled up to Grim, and his face was getting warm from the fire that danced far from them. “I had really bad aches as well after my legs got patchedup. But it’s much better now. I just get … cold sometimes. It’s this phantom pain that goes down all the way to my toes, and I feel like my legs are freezing. It’s the worst at night, when I lay in bed, and I have this cold sensation. I sometimes look under the blanket to check if they’re not there. They’re not, yet it feels as if I’m in bed with my severed, dead legs …” he finished quietly, uncomfortable with the thought.
Grim exhaled and held Misha closer. “But it doesn’t hurt at least?”
“Very rarely.” Misha cleared his throat, not willing to go on with the morbid topic. “You said the house caught fire during a party. Was Logan a junkie as well?”
Grim brushed his forehead, staring at the flames. “No. He was fourteen the last time I saw him and never wanted to touch the stuff. He was out in the woods that night and only ran back when he saw the glow of the fire from afar. The house was burning, and everyone was out, staring as the fire licked its way out the windows. The one person missing was Coy,” said Grim and slowly looked at Misha. “He wanted to run in, but they held him. And he looked on at the house while Coy was burning to death inside.” Grim cleared his throat. “I could even hear him screaming from my own house.”
Misha inhaled the air that still smelled of char. “That’s horrific …” He put his cheek against Grim’s chest, listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat.
“He had this pet bird, and it flew out of the house. Coy must have let it out of the cage. Logan couldn’t help him anymore. The selfish prick left him alone in that dump of a house. If he were there, Coy would still be alive,” he hissed through his teeth.
“Is that why you’re so sensitive to people … like him?” Misha hugged Grim’s chest, watching the tension dance in his jaw muscles.
Grim wouldn’t look back at him as he spoke. “He was one of the best people I’ve known, but he got the short end of the stick. All he had was this lousy, cheap wheelchair. The house wasn’t accessible, but his father wouldn’t give up the room on the first floor so that Coy could easily move around. The bastard had a back problem, you see, and his comfort was a priority, so Logan would carry Coy up and down the stairs every day. They were making plans to leave as soon as they were old enough, start a new life somewhere, but then Coy died so abruptly. Someone should have helped him,” whispered Grim.
Misha petted Grim’s arm, sad to see him so upset. “That’s so fucked up. How old were you when it happened?”
“Same age as them.” Grim pinched the bridge of his nose and downed the remaining beer. “It was a fucking disaster. Logan wouldn’t forgive his family, and I don’t blame him. They moved into this house closer to town. It was rundown, but they didn’t have much, so the farmer who owned it agreed to let them stay there for a few weeks. Logan helped out with the horses.” Grim glanced at Misha and gently petted his neck as the bursting light from the fire cast shadows all over his handsome face. “Turned out he was stealing animal tranquilizers and then used them to put his whole family to sleep. He burned them all down. All of them. All the adults, all the children.”
Misha frowned and looked into the fire, feeling as if the flames were crawling up his skin. “Christ …”
Grim kissed Misha’s temple and looked at the blackened walls, which were now brightened by the fire. “But whenever I’m here, there are no bad vibes. It’s almost as if Coy is still here.”
“Do you remember him so well because you have this ... interest in stumps? Or was it that these guys your age were gay, just like you?”
Grim swallowed hard and picked up Misha’s hand, playing with it. “Coy was handsome. He had these blond curls that would go up instead of straight down, as if they defied gravity. And he always smiled, even when he was hurting. I guess ... I was attracted to him, and he had no legs. I remember being fascinated by how they looked, how the stumps twitched when he moved his muscles. So I think it did start because of him.”
Misha pulled up his pants, revealing the stump that wasn’t wrapped in bandage and tensed the muscle in the calf that wasn’t there anymore, even though he felt like it was. “Like this?” he teased and gave Grim’s jaw a kiss. Misha wanted to give back for Grim opening up to him and allow Grim to touch the most vulnerable parts of his body.
He couldn’t miss the way Grim’s breath caught, and his eyes suddenly focused on the flesh Misha hated so much. “Yes. Just like this. He let me massage the stumps sometimes, because I wanted to help, and it eased his pain.”
The tension between them became hotter than the campfire, and for once Misha felt the interest in his stumps didn’t come from a morbid fascination with something damaged and ugly. It wasn born out of an adolescent crush that clearly still held power over Grim’s heart, making him much more human than his tough exterior would suggest.
“Show me.” Misha turned his back on the fire, and with his leg curled up between them, he looked up into Grim’s eyes.
Grim chewed on his lip, peeling his back away from the wall, and his hand hovered over the naked stump. “I ... I would be gentle and move the flesh between my fingers.”
