Drake hummed and looked away again, his shoulders curling slightly under Tank’s arm. “Even if I give him the choice, chances are he won’t be up for that again.”
“Maybe he will, maybe he won’t. For the record, we have sex. He’s still… him, you know?”
“You don’t strap him up like he was… at Apollo’s.” Drake cleared his throat, pulling away, as if Tank’s touch burned him. Tank was done with the skittishness so he grabbed Drake’s hair and forced him to meet his gaze.
“I’d be there, if you want. Hardly a chore to watch you fuck him.” Tank smirked, but wasn’t sure what Drake’s dilating pupils meant. The bastard was so fucking hard to read.
And there was no time for explanations either, because a vehicle approached from the arena. He pulled away and glanced through the binoculars.
“They’re moving.”
Chapter 8 - Clover
Silence ate up the atmosphere as soon as Tank left, and the sounds made by an owl nearby made the awkwardness more obvious. Clover ran his fingers through his hair, took a deep breath, and finally walked up to Pyro with a flashlight. There was no point pretending they didn’t notice one another’s presence.
“Are you wounded? Let me see,” he said, avoiding Pyro’s gaze.
He wasn’t the only one unwilling to talk much. Pyro grumbled something Clover couldn’t quite understand and spread his arms. There were many bruises on his bare skin, as well as a handful of cuts, but nothing to worry about. Clover watched him in the faint light of the stars above, glad that instead of blood and sweat he breathed in the fresh aroma of pine. He loved Pyro and wanted to tell him that, but they weren’t on speaking terms, and he didn’t know how to approach touching him, even if just to dress fresh wounds. The earlier accusations had burned a hole inside Clover to the point where he found it difficult to be around Pyro without anyone else to buffer the situation.
They ended up sitting at the back of the pickup, because they didn’t want to be trapped in the cab if someone found them. The fresh air helped Clover breathe, but that only helped so much as their communication remained limited to ‘could you raise your hand’ when both of them were painfully aware of the elephant in the room.
Maybe it was for the better. Clover wished he could forget the things Pyro had spat in his face. A nasty voice deep inside Clover kept whispering to him that their whole relationship had only existed in his head and Pyro saw him as a plaything.
When they’d had dirty, delicious sex that involved food, and when Pyro had kissed him during the fireworks show in Florida, he might have played along to get what he wanted from Clover. But regardless of whether it was true or not, Clover found it hard to believe Pyro would be such a cynic—such a good actor. Despite his explosive personality and brash ways, he’d always seemed to genuinely care whether Clover had fun with him. Now, with his blue hair a mess, with blood smeared over his skin, he remained as impenetrable as a statue.
Pyro’s firm chest heaved when Clover cleaned and then dressed two larger wounds on his pec. This too felt like rejection, and Clover made sure to be as fast as possible, unwilling to touch a man who didn’t consider him his equal and so clearly resented him. The cool air felt thick enough to choke him, and when Pyro took a rapid inhale, he couldn’t help but flinch.
“I’m sorry,” burst out of Pyro’s lips so unexpectedly Clover stilled, looking into Pyro’s eyes, which appeared translucent in the moonlight.
“Hm?” was all Clover had in him at this point, unsure and reluctant to show his feelings again, just to get them stomped on.
Pyro held his gaze for an uncomfortably long time before glancing down again with a curse on his lips. “I fucked up, okay? I see why you wouldn’t want to talk to me. I wouldn’t want to talk to me if I were you,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.
Clover put away all the unused things into the med kit, which gave him precious time to gather his chaotic thoughts. He sat at the edge of the pickup bed and shrugged, watching his own feet dangle above the ground.
“I mean… At least you got it off your chest, and we know where we stand.” Which was definitely not where Clover wanted them to be, but what was he to do?
Pyro grabbed his shoulder, but when Clover flinched away, he pulled his hand back, retreating like a smacked dog. “No. That’s not true. I didn’t actually mean any of it!”
Clover clenched his fists as the discomfort in his throat descended into his chest, causing uncomfortable cramps. “No? I’m not just a piece of ass for you to fuck when you’re thirsty? Because that’s what it seems like lately.”