50 7. Funny Games (1/2)

The room was brightly lit and Julius was pacing across the stage in quick, wide strides, head bowed, bare-chested, in his pants. I watched, enjoying the fact that he was oblivious to my presence, consumed by his, apparently, urgent thoughts.

His hair was pointing downwards and his hands were clasped behind his back. His back.

I gasped as the door behind me was slammed shut by a guard. Julius froze and sharply turned a ninety-degree to face me. Before knowing it, he was on his knees, reaching for his jacket to drape it over his back.

His terribly scarred back.

I was still processing what could've been the reason behind those horrendous scars and how painful they probably were for him when he jumped off the stage. He walked toward me. And I walked toward him.

We met in the middle of the basement space.

His face was a disturbing mixture of emotion, I realized, when he stood in front of me, examining me. His romantic, green eyes were cloudy with what could've been a thousand of question and exclamation marks. His face was otherwise as fierce and handsome as always and his head was tilted to the right. A bit. His hands were by his sides, clenched into fists.

Maybe, he was readying himself to fight and get angry.

Or maybe he was restraining himself from touching you- I thought shamelessly and immediately looked down at my indecency.

”You left-” He paused to gently clear his throat. ”You left yesterday.” His voice strengthened. ”And there were tears in your eyes.” He proceeded to speak softly as my heart beat fast at how his silky voice artistically teased the quietness that otherwise drenched us. ”Are you okay now?”

His question was hesitant as if he was scared he'd be disclosing something that needed to stay suppressed. And I remember refusing to translate his tone because this wasn't why I was here. I needed to remember that I was here for some important questions.

”Yes.” My whisper was brittle yet audible. ”I'm better. Yes.”

He breathed out, shutting his eyes momentarily, releasing the tension from his shoulders. ”I was worried-” He looked down and furrowed his eyebrows. ”-that you wouldn't come again.”

My lips parted at the tautness in his voice and his white knuckles. He was clenching his fists too hard and I wondered if that was where my heart lied. Right in his clutch, getting crushed. Because there I was, trying to focus on asking the right questions, while all he did was stop me from breathing. Stop me by distracting me with his tone, his words, and oh, his scars.

”I made a deal.” I shrugged simply, pursing my lips, the words flowing out absently, waking me up.

I had to focus, I reminded myself again. I had to ask him how to get his father here. I had to ask him why his father wouldn't come. I had to understand. Only then could I ask him about how he was, because those scars? They looked horrendously painful and I wanted nothing but to listen to the stories behind them, let my fingers trace them, and understand them.

He searched my face with unreadable eyes, then sighed, his hands flinching by his sides like he was hesitating to reach for something. For me. He clenched his jaws, subtly shook his head, and took a deep breath before a constrained ′Yes′ was forced out from the back of his throat.

'Yes', was all he said. And it disappointed me very much. So I inhaled deeply, irritated by my disappointment. Heavens, what did I expect him to do?

”I answered your question yesterday.” I managed to say and wondered why were we so close and quiet? I mean, if I allowed myself to lean in, just a bit, my hair would tickle his chest.

It was like none of us dared to disturb the odd peace that settled between us.

”Now, it's my turn,” I muttered, glancing up at him to find him still studying me with a blank face. I took a deep breath, knowing that there were so many things going on beyond that insipid facade of his. Things about me that I wanted to know.

And despite knowing that I shouldn't care what he thought, I just couldn't. Not when we were that close. Not when he was staring at me this way. Like he wanted to steal me away and watch me all day. Not when I was a breath closer to him. A step. A sway.

He smiled faintly. ”Yes. Of course. Ask your question.”

”What's your father's weakness?” I blurted out the question and exhaled at the same time. My thoughts, I felt, were trying to kill me. They were keeping me out of breath.

His face remained stoic. ”You want to lure him here?” He lifted an eyebrow and smirked. ”You want to die?”

”Just answer my question, please.” I closed my eyes wearily before opening them to his still expressionless face.

If I could only get closer and feel his thoughts, if I could place my ear next to his chest and hear them beating and beating against their cage, beating their way out...

”You-” He scoffed, snapping me out of my thoughts. ”You are planning to seduce a highly proficient, scheming murderer to your little den. Do you have any idea how ill-considered this is?” His voice was low yet demanding, and his eyes were wide and unyielding.

”Please,” I pressed wearily, nonetheless. ”I don't want your opinion. It doesn't matter to me.”

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

”Well, it should.” He grew subtly angry. ”Because you're about to kick your own buttocks and plummet down a very steep cliff.”

I raised my eyebrows because he was, again, underestimating me. ”I thought you were a man of your word,” I retorted irritably. ”You said you'd answer all my questions. In the name of 'friendship'.”

He was shaking his head disapprovingly and frowning deeply. ”And I also said, in the name of friendship, that I'd rather die than hurt you in any way. And you're asking me to drag a bloody knife through your chest-”

And just like that, a switch flipped inside me.

”You've already dragged a knife through my chest, Julius,” I stated solidly, not thoroughly thinking it through. I just idiotically reopened closed chapters. ”One can only die once.” He faltered at my statement. ”So tell me. Please.”

”I do not know.” He then resorted to nonchalance, releasing the tension in his shoulders. It was like he was constantly flipping from anger to menace to nonchalance. The three facades that he excelled at showing.

”Are you lying now?” I questioned tiredly, narrowing my eyes on him.

”I already told you-” He looked away with a frown. ”And I'll tell you again. You keep overestimating the relationship I have with my father.” He looked up at me. ”There's nothing but business and blood between us.”

I gaped at him. ”What do you mean by ′business and blood'?”

He lifted his eyebrows at me and flexed his clenched fists. ”That's another question.”

”Answer it instead of the previous one!” I demanded impatiently and he smirked.

”I already answered the previous one.” He licked his dry lips wet and locked my eyes. ”This should make it my turn. Not yours.”

”I'm not taking your 'I don't know' as an answer!” I mocked and he smiled bemusedly.

”Alright. Stalemate, then.” He challenged. ”Do you have any other game to offer? This 'friendship' game is getting rather mundane.”

”Alright!” I raised my arms in frustration. ”Let's play another game!”

He examined me closely and smiled deviously. ”Let's add a little spice to it.” He then bit in his lower lip before releasing it. ”Let's play- let's play truth or dare, love.”

We were both on the floor.

I was sitting, cross-legged with his heavy, leather jacket draped over my laps and my white heels next to me. He sat across me, also cross-legged, but bare-chested and bright-eyed. His black hair covered his forehead and a little of his left eye and his hands were clasped in his laps. He was staring at me with great interest as I made no effort to hide my irritation.

I clenched my fists on top of his jacket that was repulsively touching my thighs. Because that was the disadvantage of wearing a dress, and because- ′You have to stop being unpleasant. I'm merely being a gentleman. So please take my jacket and sit down'.

He was still staring at me with a faint smile when I cleared my throat. He caught my eyes immediately and tilted his head.

”Shall we?” I asked curtly.

He nodded slowly and arched his eyebrows. ”Are you ready?” His deep voice came out as a husky whisper and I looked away with a sigh.

”Of course I am,” I replied unwaveringly, stealing a glance at him. He was still smiling bemusedly.

Stupid smile.

”You're not scared?” He continued to ask and I fully turned my head to glare at him.

I was surprised to see genuine concern lighten up his features. And it surprised me to speechlessness. So instead I raised my eyebrows questioningly- as in 'why should I be'?

”Well, obviously,” he started with a mischievous smile. ”-this game will be a little...different-” He told me, looking down at his palms with a smile. ”You're not playing it with your best friend,” he raised an eyebrow. ”You're not playing it with your lover,” he raised the other eyebrow. ”You're playing it with a potentially dangerous and strategy-loving murderer. Therefore, you should be scared.”

”I am not,” I retorted with a deep breath and a smile. Or- more of a dying smile because I was scared. I was impossibly terrified at the coldness of his voice, the tilt of his head, and the demons in his eyes.

”Okay.” He smiled. ”Let the game begin!”

I gulped and smiled back sarcastically, wishing I was good at hiding my emotions like he was. ”Truth or dare?” And there it was, my voice cracking in fear and my heart beating outrageously in my chest. I clutched the leather of his jacket in my hands.

He exhaled loudly and cleared his throat. ”Okay. Let me give you what you want first.” He was completely at ease, running a hand through his hair occasionally and smiling widely at something he found particularly amusing. Me. My evident fear. I bet I was an open book to him. And he was enjoying reading and re-reading every single line, not skipping a word. Devouring me whole in one glance.

”Truth.” He finally breathed out with a smile.

”What did you mean-” I started, knowing it was unfair that he got to play first because he answered a question before. It was supposedly my turn. But him letting it slip must've been not coincidental. He's planning for something much worse, I thought. ”What did you mean by what's between you and your father is nothing but blood and business?”

He shook his head with a playful smile. ”Well, we share blood, because he's my biological father-” He was about to continue when he paused, raised an index finger and smiled lopsidedly. ”Do I need to elaborate more on that point?” His smile turned to a smirk as he let his eyes trail down my length. I brought his jacket closer to me as lava slapped my insides and my face.