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Vegas stared at the blood dripping from his wounded fist as it lay nestled in the wall in front of him. The droplets fell onto the front of his t-shirt, joining the countless tears that had long ago soaked through. It was kind of beautiful. A watercolor of his pain. He squeezed harder, pushing his fist further into the drywall.
“ I’m sorry ,” Vegas whispers into the empty room. Room, as if that’s all it was, an unassuming part of a house. Dungeon was closer, a place to imprison, a cell away from prying eyes. He wasn’t so daft to not understand the reality of the situation. But, for Vegas, he was as stuck there as much as he forced Pete to be, as chained and powerless as his prisoner.
Or maybe, in his own selfish way, it was more than that. A sanctuary of sorts, where he could take refuge from his father and feel safe. With Pete. A fortress where he could be himself, feel understood. A space where he was more than just Vegas , prince of pain and torture, minor family heir. But, now he’s lost Pete and the room just feels cold and dark and empty . Maybe that’s how Pete had seen it.
“I’m sorry!” Vegas screams again, his voice raw and broken from crying.
Vegas knew what he did was wrong, keeping Pete handcuffed to him even after all that had happened between them. He had been scared, terrified that if given the choice, Pete would leave him, that he would choose them. The fear had taken over like nothing else had before, had consumed him much like he wished to consume Pete, making him careless with his most cherished. What he had failed to think about was that deciding for Pete, taking his choice away, would push him away, force his hand and make his fears become a reality. He might as well have called the main family to collect him and lead Pete to the light, away from Vegas and his suffering.
“ I’m sorry ,” Vegas whimpers one more time. He pulls his injured hand to his chest and starts to yell. His wails fill the room in a melancholic symphony not a person will hear to answer.
********
It was well past midnight when Pete awoke with a start, the hands ghosting around his wrists now a distant memory. His heart beats hard in his chest and his breaths leave his mouth quickly, as if he had just finished a marathon. Pete could not recall what his dream was about but he knew he felt warm, safe . Then, all of a sudden there was screaming. He looked around to see if he could locate the source. Porsche wasn’t in his bed but that wasn’t out of the ordinary, he was probably spending the night with Kinn like he had been since Pete’s return.
Pete arose from the bed, still out of breath but on high alert, and opened the door to the hallway, listening for a few seconds. He knew those screams, had soaked them in both day and night for what felt like a lifetime. Frustrated, he closed the door and returned to his bed, laying down and trying not to think. He reached over to grab his wrist, still oily from the medicine he had applied before drifting off to sleep.
“ Vegas ,” Pete whispers into the empty room, a space he no longer felt a belonging in. Tears that he had not noticed were forming sank into his hairline, making his mussed up hair damp. He circles his hand around his wrist and takes a deep breath, waiting for his heart to cease its pounding.
Pete could not rest his heart. It had been hammering ever since he had left Vegas, almost as if it wanted to lunge from inside his chest and seek out its rightful owner. But, it could not. His heart was shackled to his chest cavity, hidden away from the one person he knew deep down, felt it in his very bones, would keep safe. Pete made his decision, as difficult and soul crushing as it was. Pete decided to escape and now he had to live with that, his heart had to live with that.
“Vegas,” Pete cried into the void, hoping to quell the roars still ringing in his ears.
********
The next morning Vegas stirred to the sound of his phone ringing. Clutching his bruised and crusty hand, he rolled over to reach his nightstand, quickly reading the caller id.
“Porsche,” Vegas answered in the most casual voice he could muster.
“I need your help.”
“Okay, Porsche. What can I do for you?”
“We’ll be at Hum Bar tonight. Pete will be there,” Porsche says quietly and then abruptly hangs up.
Pete will be there. Instantly, the ugly and broken feeling in his chest transformed. Hope engulfed Vegas in a way he had never felt, a small smile forming on his lips, tears welling up in his eyes. He had another chance, the anticipation was warming his heart. Porsche couldn’t possibly know what he was doing for him, gifting him time with Pete. Vegas wasn’t going to blow his final shot.
Pete will be there.
********
Pete was leaning against a pillar in the back room of Hum Bar, taking a break from the hullabaloo that was Tankhun. He thought it was kind of them all, to make an effort and take his mind out of whatever dark space it had been in since his return. It's nice that they noticed, even if that makes him feel a little exposed, vulnerable. They couldn’t understand what he was going through, though, and neither could Pete. He could barely accept it, that hollow feeling he had been experiencing since leaving Vegas.
He takes a deep inhale through his nose to try to calm his nerves and smells a very familiar scent - a cologne he could immediately place, one of sandalwood and spice.
Vegas.
Frightened he might be going mad from pining, Pete decides he should light up a cigarette, to expel the intoxicating aroma and soothe his, again, thrashing heart. After raising a smoke into his mouth, he patted his pockets, attempting to locate his lighter. Not far from his ear, Pete hears the snap of a lighter igniting. He turns his head slightly to the right, ready to thank the friendly stranger for their service. What he had not expected was to see Vegas standing there, looking hard and severe but soft at the same time.
Instantaneously, Pete spit out the cigarette and raised the gun that was once nestled in the back of his waistband, pointing it directly at Vegas. His gaze met Vegas’s, anger suddenly flaring up inside of him.
********
Vegas stared at Pete, not knowing how to handle this situation. He knew that Pete must be unhappy with him, after all he had done to him. Probably more than unhappy with him, he must hate him but some small part of him dreamed that he had been just as miserable without him as he was without Pete.
After staring at Pete for what felt like hours but was most likely just a couple of seconds, Vegas did what he knew best and just lunged at Pete, grabbing the gun and turning him so he was pushed up against the pillar.
“Get out!” Pete yelled at him, causing Vegas to grip him tighter.
“I’m sorry, Pete.” Vegas didn’t know what to do. This is not how he initially planned their reunion going. He had known he would grovel but once he had seen the gun his instincts just took over.
“Get the fuck out of my life!” Pete screamed and then bashed his head into Vegas’s jaw, successfully shoving him away. Vegas hunched over and glanced back, catching a glimpse of Pete holding the back of his head before setting his sights on him again.
“Are you gonna shoot me? Are you?” Vegas somehow knew he wouldn’t.
Vegas grabbed the gun that was aimed at his head and crushed it into his chest, right over his heart.
“Why don’t you shoot? Don’t you want me to disappear?” Vegas knew that he, himself, did. He had wanted to disappear for as long as he could remember.
Pete’s face cracked into a painful expression as if he had heard his thoughts, making Vegas’s heart pound hard into the steel it was pressed against.
“Shoot me already. Shoot me!” Vegas said with force, causing Pete to sob.
“I don’t think you can. And you know why…”
Vegas gazed at him, hoping Pete could feel the anguish that was radiating off of him. Pete looked beautiful, though broken and lost. Vegas wouldn’t touch him anymore than he already was, waiting for Pete’s affirmation. Something in Pete’s eyes told him he needed Vegas’s touch. He nodded his head, slightly, grabbing Pete’s shoulder to pull his shaking form into his embrace, letting the gun fall to the ground. Pete weeped into his chest and all Vegas could do was hold him. Then, Pete pulled away to slide down against the piller, dragging Vegas down with him.
“I’m sorry,” Vegas said with all he had, holding Pete’s wrist delicately and pushing his forehead against Pete’s, holding his other hand in his injured one. He needed Pete to know that, even if that was all Pete would believe from him. He meant it with all of his being.
“I’m sorry,” Vegas said one more time, urging Pete to understand. Pete just cried his lovely little cries and raised his hand to cup Vegas’s jaw, right where he had hit him. He massaged his skin, attempting to soothe the blossoming bruise, wiping away the minimal amount of blood. Vegas felt like he was in heaven, bringing his damaged hand up to caress Pete’s face.
“What happened?” Pete asked in a small, raw voice, still sniffling.
“Don’t worry about it,” Vegas mumbled into Pete’s hand. His insignificant hand injury didn’t matter. All that mattered was Pete, how it seemed like he was just as content being there as he was.
Pete started moving against Vegas’s hand, trailing tiny kisses down his palm. Vegas remained unmoving, basking in the devotion Pete was showering him with. He wasn’t expecting this, for Pete to share this intimacy with him so quickly, so suddenly. But, he’d take whatever Pete was willing to give, and would cherish it.
********
Pete didn’t know what he was doing. All that he knew was that he wanted more of it. He placed kisses onto each of Vegas’s knuckles, leaving trails of his saliva and tears in his wake. Vegas was still, allowing Pete to do anything he desired. He kissed each blackened knuckle twice, then thrice, and then changed his direction to Vegas’s wrist, up his arm to his shoulder. He kissed up the side of his neck, not missing a single inch of skin. Unable to stop himself, he laid a peck on the corner of Vegas’s lips, so close to where he longed to be.
“Are you sure?” Vegas muttered, his breath spreading warmth across Pete’s face.
All Pete had to do was nod once and then Vegas was on him, kissing him softly . It was unlike any kiss they had shared before. It was more , passionate, sure, but soft, like Vegas was trying to show him how much he meant to him, like he was special . Pete felt like he could almost taste honey, with how sweet Vegas was kissing him.
After a few minutes, Pete started to feel restless. As staggering as it was for Vegas to be treating him with such care, Pete wanted more, wanted Vegas deeper . As if sensing his hunger, Vegas turned Pete’s head to the side and intensified the kiss, pressing his tongue into his mouth. And, wow was that just divine. Impassioned by Vegas’s eagerness, Pete moved his hands up to Vegas’s hair and faintly pulled at his locks, coercing a sound to leave Vegas’s mouth and causing him to bite down hard on Pete’s lower lip. The pain that started spreading on his lip was quickly soothed by Vegas’s tongue, turning the pain into something pleasurable. Pete never wanted it to end. He wanted to kiss Vegas forever.
Abruptly, the noise of someone on the other side of the backroom door pulled them apart, both their breathing heavy. Vegas, lips red and shiny and hair a mess, watched Pete for a few seconds before grabbing Pete’s hand and pulling him up with him.
“I need to go,” Vegas said with visible regret.
“You’re going to leave me?” No . Pete couldn’t fathom being without Vegas now, not with what just took place between them.
“I have to. But, maybe…”
“But, maybe… what?”
“Do you want to come with me?”
Pete couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Vegas wanted him to go with him? And do what? Go to the minor family house and be hidden away, again? Go back to that awful “safe” house so he could be chained up, again, and be treated as a prisoner?
I’m sorry…
Fucking Vegas, with his soft eyes filled with hope and something else, something similar to… Pete couldn’t even bear to name it. Pete felt crazy, thinking that Vegas could ever feel that way about him. And even if he did, this could never work. Vegas was too obsessed with his father, or at least his father’s approval. He would never leave that world, not that Pete necessarily wanted him to.
Pete was just very confused. Vegas rarely showed affection to anyone, only to Macau as far as he could tell. So, why was he looking at Pete in that way? Why was he looking at Pete like he needed him to say yes, like all he wanted was more time with Pete. Why did he resemble a kicked puppy who was yearning for his owner’s love and attention? Wasn’t that Pete’s job?
Pete closed his eyes, attempting to quell his racing thoughts.
********
Vegas eyed Pete, wishing to read his thoughts. Pete looked conflicted and Vegas could feel his panic radiating off of him in waves. Maybe Vegas should have refrained from asking, should have just left Pete with the knowledge of his regret and the memory of his kisses. Maybe Pete would be better off without him, safer . But, Vegas was a selfish man and he would take as much as he was allowed to take from Pete.
Incapable of holding himself back, Vegas leaned forward to rest his forehead against Pete’s. He raised his hands to cup Pete’s cheeks and wiped away the tears that had started to fall, presumably, from his touch. Pete leaned in closer and rested his hands around Vegas’s wrists, letting out a whimper. It broke his heart, seeing Pete this way, tormented and dejected.
“You don’t have to. I’ll still…” Vegas stopped himself. He didn’t want to use it as a bargaining chip. And, Vegas didn’t know if he could say it. Once it was out there, once he served Pete his splintered and filthy heart on a silver platter, Pete could do whatever he wanted with it. He could grind it into a fine paste and then chew on the pieces he couldn’t quite break down until there was nothing left of his sad, meaningless existence. Vegas would let him, would let Pete do anything, really.
“I need you to say it,” Pete said quietly but still bursting with courage.
Vegas wanted to step back a bit so he could see Pete’s beautiful, tear-stained face. But, as soon as he began to make his move, Pete immediately pulled him into a fierce kiss, circling his arms around Vegas’s neck and yanking him as close to Pete as possible. All Vegas could do was kiss him back with the same ferocity. Wrapping his arms around Pete’s waist, he held onto him tightly, relocating them into the shadows so they could not be interrupted, again.
After intensely kissing for what felt like hours, days , Vegas moved down to Pete’s neck to leave little love bites, drawing small sounds out of Pete. Pete tilted his head to the side to give Vegas more room to attack his neck.
“ Please, Vegas . Tell me,” Pete begged and then grabbed Vegas’s head so their eyes could lock.
“... I love you, Pete.” Vegas couldn’t keep it in any longer. Uttering it felt like confessing all of his sins to God and having Him absolve all of them without a second thought. They were the truest words he had ever spoken, the most real . That three word expression was the perfect way to describe his feelings for Pete but, at the same time, they weren’t enough . They didn’t encapsulate the craving he felt for the other man, the obsession . The forceful, gravitational pull he felt towards him like they were two planets just waiting, begging to crash into another. The feeling of hopelessness and desperation he felt when he was away from him, even before Pete had left him. Words couldn’t accurately describe it. Vegas was sure normal people in love didn’t feel the way he did about Pete.
Pete beamed at Vegas, a real, eye-twinkling one. Fresh tears rolled down both of their faces, tears of hope and joy and longing and love . Pete didn’t have to say it back. He could never say it and Vegas would be fine with that. Vegas knew just by the way Pete was looking at him, by the way he was smiling the most genuine and radiant smile he had ever smiled before, that he felt the exact same way as Vegas did. They shared the same love.
Vegas leaned in to tenderly kiss Pete on his forehead. Then, he left featherlight kisses on his cheeks, chin, and the tip of his nose before planting a soft kiss on Pete’s lips.
“Okay!” Pete giggled, hugging Vegas, letting his hands roam up and down his back in a soothing motion. Cute Vegas thought, hugging Pete back and nuzzling his head against Pete’s neck. He stroked the back of Pete’s head, trying to alleviate any pain that might still be there.
“Okay?”
“Okay, I’ll come with you.”
Vegas’s heart lit up somehow more than it already was. He felt so completely warm, like fire was blazing everywhere . Pete was going to come with him. Pete was choosing him, even after all he had done to him, even after knowing all of what Vegas was. That hope that had been situated only in a small bit of Vegas’s heart grew like flowered vines all throughout his body.
Vegas kissed Pete, again, hard on the mouth. He ran his fingers through Pete’s silky hair and then pulled softly. Pete’s mouth opened, giving way for Vegas to slip his tongue in. Their tongues danced along each other for a while before Vegas leaned back a little, gazing at Pete with dark eyes.
They stared at each other, soaking in the other’s presence. Vegas caressed Pete’s face, running his thumb over his brow and then kissed his forehead, again. He rested his forehead against Pete’s, letting their breaths mix.
“We should probably leave before anyone notices how long I’ve been gone,” Pete says with another one of his adorable smiles.
Vegas kisses Pete’s dimples.
“You’re right but let me just hold you for a couple more minutes,” Vegas couldn’t deal with any more space being put between them.
“Alright… Oh, and Vegas?”
Vegas hummed, lost in the feeling of stroking Pete’s hair.
“I love you, too.”
Vegas smiled.
– fin –