Knight shook his head, not even bothering to comment. He knew that if he opened his mouth, he would say something he shouldn’t.
*
They didn’t find a trace of Elliot. Even Rev and Fox joined the search, trudging through the snow with Knight and Beast. White fluff blew into their faces and made their clothes damp, only making the whole endeavor more miserable. The heaps of snow were big enough to hide a dead body, and in this temperature it might have not even started decomposing. So Rev had said. Knight didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to find Elliot once all the snow thawed, hidden away from any harm that could come his way under the roof of thick branches. He didn’t want to be the cause of anything this horrid.
No matter how many times Knight called his name, Elliot hadn’t responded, as if he was gone off the face of the earth. Forever. And once it got completely dark and even Hound failed to lead them to any clues, Knight gave up.
Without knowing where Elliot was, he couldn’t sleep either and felt the hours pass as he looked at the lamp above his bed, not even counting sheep because he kept imagining them violated by some kind of rabid animal who tore away whole chunks of their flesh and left them to die from their injuries.
Restless in his own room, Knight needed a change of space, so he went down to the common room hoping for some late-night conversations over beer, but at 2am, there was no one to talk to. He lay his head on the arm of the leather sofa, increasingly miserable.
He couldn’t remember ever feeling this shit. Well, maybe that one time when he mixed wine with beer and tequila, but he’d been fine after he got his stomach pumped. This? The thought of Elliot killing himself was like a parasite in his gut that he couldn’t get rid of.
He didn’t even remember falling asleep, but when he opened his eyes, the room was dark, so someone must have turned the light off when he’d dozed off. Knight wasn’t sure what woke him up until bottles rattled somewhere in the kitchen.
He squeezed his eyes hard to make his eyelids relax and slowly rose into a sitting position, eager to strike a conversation about pretty much anything.
The ghostly glow originating in the innards of the open fridge cast shadows behind the lamp above Knight’s head and outlined the items on the kitchen counter with blueish lines. Not wanting to wake Knight up most likely, the other guy—he was far too tall to be a woman—attempted to keep quiet as he dove his long arms inside the shelves.
Knight’s brain was only slowly catching up with his eyes, and he stilled, studying the thin legs in skinny jeans, the narrow hips that never failed to spur dirty thoughts in Knight’s mind.
Elliot’s hair was a mess held in place by some kind of product, and in quick efficient moves he was stuffing food into a duffel, oblivious to Knight’s eyes on him. It was as if an invisible fist punched Knight in the gut. He couldn’t breathe or think even as he slowly rose from the sofa and approached, barefoot over tiles that burned his feet with their cold surface.
Elliot was pulling out cans, bread, meats, jam, and he only hesitated a moment before packing the remaining piece of Violet’s birthday cake.
“This isn’t yours,” Knight heard himself say, and it was as if breaking the silence somehow unlocked his joints too and allowed him to move faster.
Elliot’s head turned in an instant, and he froze like a deer caught in the headlights. His face was covered in white powder, and his cheeks colored with rouge. The effect was much less intense than The Count had usually gone for, but it still made Knight’s blood boil.
“I…”
Knight rested his hands on his hips, just because he knew that he’d actually use them, were they not occupied. “Where have you been? The house is locked for the night! Everyone has been searching for you all afternoon!”
“For me? Why? And you said I can have stuff from the fridge.” Elliot slipped a jar of Nutella into his bag and zipped it up, never taking his eyes off Knight.
The heat in Knight’s head was starting to boil his brain. “You disappeared. Where have you been, you shit? And why are you wearing all this again?”
Elliot’s eyelids lowered in that self-righteous expression Knight had last seen on him when they first met. None of that helpless vulnerability, or even a hint of smile, was left. “What do you care where I was? Did you have a nice Christmas? We’re not a couple, so I’m free to wear whatever I want.” He closed the fridge, leaving them with only the moon illuminating the scene with its faint glow.