His father hadn’t thought that tenet held any heightened bearing. It’s probably half the reason behind Sinn'ous’s own disregard to the tenets. Yes, he follows them, but only so far. So far as it allows him to kill to send sacrifices down to Satan. But he knows his worship and sacrifices are taken at high value.
Why does this boy crash through all his walls and bring the past to the forefront of his mind? The past he’d thought he long since buried.
“—Kind of.” Izz continues, like he hadn’t cut himself off. “Can we just drop this subject? It’s depressing.”
Unable to resist, and not trying all that hard, Sinn'ous runs his hand down Izz’s spine when his boy leans forward to pick up his shoe.
A small hiss of pain escapes his boy, but he makes no verbal remark over it. Just stands back up, shirt in hand, to probe softly at the small cut. No longer bleeding, it’s little more than a thin line.
Instead of continuing to dress, Izz throws out a question that seems to come out of nowhere. “Why do you care about me, and no one else?” Eyes bore directly into Sinn'ous’s own, an intensity to them that he can’t quite read.
“Don’t know. I just do.” Is his clipped tone too obvious that he wants this subject dropped?
And of course Izz doesn’t drop it. “But why am I different?”
Satan, give me strength.
He can’t explain this. Or anything too deep. Everything has to be surface level. If it goes too deep Izz will learn that Sinn'ous does in fact worship the Devil. And that isn’t something he has had the time to desensitise his boy to.
So instead, he chooses a poorly veiled threat. “Do you want me to treat you like I view others,” He arches a brow.
“No,” Izz mutters, deflating completely. A blood bag stuck by a two-inch needle, he drains in an instant. Using the guise of pulling on his shirt to hide his face, but not before Sinn'ous catches the hurt there.
“So what’s the problem.” The words leave his mouth against his better judgement, dangerously close to being a question. And Sinn'ous doesn’t do questions. You tell him what he wants to know, or you die. Simple as that.
His boy shakes his head, and that will not do. Then Izz shrugs, his soft voice timid. “Never mind.”
Sinn'ous holds his composure while it threatens to crumble. Staying silent so he doesn’t spew more words he hadn’t calculated and rerun through his mind to find any fault in.
That is until Izz steps around him on the way to the cell’s door. The laid-back excitement of earlier has evaporated from his expression altogether.
Sinn'ous’s hand snaps out of its own accord to grab Izz’s forearm.
Because fuck me that defeated look is way too fucking broken for what I want.
Compliant, not broken. That is what he wants. What he craves.
A long and low sigh slips free, rolling over the tension radiating off his boy. He has to give him something. “I can’t tell you because I don’t know. I’ve never cared about anyone before. People . . .” He trails off, mulling over his words cautiously. To reveal too much would lead to broken trust, to reveal too little will likewise lead to the same thing.
Neutral ground is needed, the middle to chase away the undesired outcome.
Sinn'ous continues, trying to be vague while giving enough to appease the boy. “To me, people are simply animals, or . . . the way you would view an apple. Some you want to slice. Others look repulsive, you don’t touch them, but you would slice them open, if needed, without care.”
There, that sounds good doesn’t it? Sweet and like wrapped in feelings?
Maybe a drop more? So he adds another collection of pretty words. “You on the other hand . . . I care if you feel pain—unwanted pain. I don’t want to inflict injuries on you which you’re not comfortable with. And I don’t want to treat you as the apple, I care if you were to be sliced open, I do not want it from you. I would like you to be in one piece.”
It really is hard to say—’I used to want to kill you, but now I think I only want to hurt you a little, maim you some. But you won’t die from it.’—without actually saying it.
His boy’s brows are furrowed in thought, lips thinned.
Fuck me dead. At this point it would be easier to just stab him.
Then Izz appears to blink everything away, a single nod, followed by his hand sliding into Sinn'ous’s own. Which fucks with him to the extent that he doesn’t pull away, and is led out by the hand. The contact drops once they start walking down the platform, but the phantom touch remains.
Satan, why did you set this boy in my path?
55
