It was also very cold.
Now that they weren’t actively engaged with one another, Goldie was keenly aware of the low temperature. Since he was sweaty now, it was even worse.
He shivered, asking, “So, uh, it’s time we get the fuck out of here, right?”
Day glanced down between their bodies as if he seriously had to think about it.
“Day!” Goldie scolded.
Day huffed, and he nodded.
With a grunt, Goldie eased his way off of Day’s lap.
Day sat up and stripped the pillow, offering the pillowcase out to Goldie.
“Ah, such a gentleman.” Goldie wiped himself down and then handed it back for Day to clean up with.
Day did so and then put his underwear back on. He grabbed the Goldilocks shirt and yanked it over his head despite the blood, though he visibly cringed. It was probably cold.
Goldie pulled his sweats back on and winced as his back suddenly seemed to remember that it was in fact still injured and he’d just put it through some carnal hell. “Time to go home?”
Day rubbed Goldie’s shoulder, frowning in concern.
“I’m okay.” Goldie smiled warmly. “Look, if you feel that bad about it, you can give me a back rub later.”
Day beamed.
Goldie reached for Day’s hand, and he gave it a little squeeze. He touched the medallion around his neck, tracing where the bullet was still stuck. He blinked in surprise as it suddenly came loose and clinked onto the floor. He made the mistake of watching where it went, grimacing as it rolled over toward the body at the foot of the bed. “Right, so…”
Day blinked expectantly.
“What exactly are we planning to do about him? And, well, all the others?”
Day shrugged.
“That’s it? Just what? Meh?”
Day gestured toward the ceiling.
“What?” Goldie frowned. “What does that mean? You’re trusting in God? Your father? Both?”
Day smiled and nodded.
“Well, fuck.” Goldie sighed. “I guess it got us this far. I mean, what the fuck could possibly happen—”
There was a crash downstairs, and a male voice shouted something.
“Why did I ask?” Goldie complained to the ceiling. “Why?”
Day rose from the bed, taking a defensive position in front of Goldie. He snatched the bloody crucifix from the bed. He held it out, his muscles tensed and ready for anything.
Goldie stood, quickly scrambling for a weapon. Desperate, he pulled one of the drawers out from the dresser. After dumping out some old papers and a torn pair of shorts, he held the drawer up high, prepared to crack it over whoever’s head came through that bedroom door.
Footsteps cautiously ascended the stairs, and the voice called again, “Hey! Police! Is anyone up here? Show yourself! Now!”
Goldie knew that voice…
Day leaned forward, turning the knob, and slowly opened the door so he could peek through. When he saw who it was, he opened the door the rest of the way.
