“And what is the truth?” Arlo asked, his head swimming.
“That you belong to me. That you’re mine.”
Arlo slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor of the short hallway that led to the back, his legs tucked to his chest as he attempted to process Dimitri’s matter-of-fact statement. Dimitri joined him on the floor, like it was the most normal thing in the world, legs criss-crossed in front of him.
“Does that scare you?”
“It should,” Arlo said. “Right? It’s an insanely unhealthy thing to say. My therapist would have a field day with it. Tell me I’m falling into old patterns, changing out one abusive guy for the next.”
“I would never hurt you,” Dimitri said vehemently.
“Maybe not physically. But there’s more than one way to hurt somebody. How long before you’re controlling where I go, what I eat, how I spend my money. Who I’m friends with?”
Dimitri’s eyes went wide. “I would never do that to you. I don’t want to control you. I just want to keep you safe. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
Arlo wanted so badly to believe him. “My therapist would say you were co-dependent.”
Dimitri shrugged. “My therapist says I’m a psychopath.”
Arlo swallowed audibly. “What?”
“I’m a psychopath,” Dimitri stated again, casually.
“What does that even mean?” Arlo managed.
“It means I lack empathy and remorse. It means I don’t feel guilty about the things I do, no matter who they hurt.”
Arlo blinked. “You’re serious. You’re…really a psychopath.”
“Yeah. It’s just a diagnosis like any other. There are lots of us out there. Most of us don’t know it, though. My mom recognized the signs early and got me help.”
“The signs? You mean when you tried to kill my parents?” Arlo said, somehow finding the whole conversation a little funny. His therapist would call it an inappropriate fear response. He called it being crazy.
Dimitri nodded. “Yeah, right after we moved.”
Arlo leaned in, mesmerized when Dimitri did the same. “What do you mean when you say I’m yours? Like, you see me as a little brother or…”
Dimitri swooped down, capturing Arlo’s mouth in a kiss that lingered. His whole body felt hot then cold, his hands reaching up to clench in his shirt, holding him there.
“So, not a little brother, then,” Arlo said when they parted.
“No. Not as a little brother.”
Dimitri’s heart pounded, some feral part of him wanting to drag Arlo into a closet and claim him, to mark him up like Holden had but with bites and bruises that made Arlo moan, not cry. But Arlo deserved better than that. He’d been manhandled enough by people like Holden. Dimitri wouldn’t treat him like something disposable.
Dimitri gripped Arlo’s hands, still clenched in his t-shirt, pulling them free and kissing the backs of them, watching his cheeks turn pink. “Let’s finish up here, and then we can go back to my place. Okay? Just to talk.”
Dimitri’s lips twitched in an aborted smile at the look of disappointment on Arlo’s face. “Just talk?”
Dimitri couldn’t help but plant another kiss on his lips. “We’ll see. I’m going to take out the garbage. You finish cleaning the espresso machine. Then we can both mop up and get out of here.”
Arlo frowned. “I can do the garbage. You did it last night.”
“No. I don’t want you out there alone in the cold. Just do the machines. I’ve got this.”
Arlo looked like he wanted to argue, but he just took a deep breath and let it out, nodding.
Dimitri gathered the bundles of garbage from the large rubber bins around the restaurant, setting them at the back, before pushing open the heavy door and snagging the brick they used to keep it ajar. The door had been broken since Dimitri started. No matter how many times they complained, the owner, Maggie, waved them off, saying she’d take care of it the following week. They’d given up on asking.
