Bay doubted that, considering the real Sila wasn’t as big of a sharer as the fake, friendly person he presented as a front to the world, but he might have mentioned it at least. He definitely would have been in a bad enough mood he would have sought Bay out, if only to take out those frustrations on Bay’s flesh.
He wished that’s what had happened. Wished he’d been woken last night like he’d been before, with Sila behind him, holding him close. Threatening to cut off his air supply or slit him open with a sharp blade.
There’d been minor disappointment when he hadn’t taken things further, when he’d fucked Bay and then taken him to the bath like they really were lovers. It’d been upsetting for a number of reasons, but mostly for two major ones.
Bay had craved the promised agony Sila’s presence now brought him and had been downcast when it hadn’t come.
He’d also enjoyed the warm bath and sitting in Sila’s lap, being stretched by the thickness of his shaft. Being washed and touched lightly while Sila had held him and spoken in a low, warm tone that had sent shivers skittering up Bay’s spine. The moment had felt…relaxed. Comforting. Dare he say, wholesome.
It was everything Sila Varun wasn’t and, maybe because of that, Bay’s sick mind had lapped it up like a kitten to cream.
He realized with a start that it wasn’t just the pain he was craving. He wanted more of those soft moments too. Wanted more of Sila’s care and attention. It’d made him feel special—loved probably wasn’t the right word, because who knew if a psychopath like Sila was even capable of that emotion, but definitely something akin to it. Something close enough that Bay’s heart skipped a beat when he thought of it.
There was no time limit on how long they played together, as his student put it, so he idiotically hadn’t even considered things between them might come to an end sooner rather than later. Yet here he was now, learning from someone else that Sila might be leaving the planet with his father…
If he left, that would be it.
Bay would never see him again.
Was it illogical to believe his father might have taken his multi-slate from him? Sila was a twenty-year-old man and, what’s more, he wasn’t the type of person who’d allow anyone, even his father, to walk all over him. He may have fooled the rest of the universe otherwise, but Bay knew better.
If Sila really didn’t want to go, there was nothing and no one powerful enough to make him. Which only meant if he did really leave, if he’d left already without any of them knowing, it was because a part of him had agreed to it.
A part of him had wanted to.
Had wanted to leave Bay.
Hell, maybe he hadn’t even considered Bay at all in his contemplations.
“Three ships already launched off planet,” Jol said then, twisting the knife stabbing through Bay’s gut even harder with her statement. “Do you think he was on any of them?”
“He wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye,” Riel argued, only for her to give him a dark look.
“That’s exactly what he’d do and you know it. He’d send us an email once it was too late for us to see him off in person saying he was bad at farewells or something stupid like that,” she said, “but hewouldjust leave.”
Even she thought so and Jol didn’t know Sila didn’t actually even care about them. She was operating under the assumption they were all great friends and even then, she knew Sila would just go without looking back.
Bay’s multi-slate dinged and he checked it so quickly it was a wonder he didn’t get whiplash from the moment. It wasn’t Sila though.
“Anyway,” Riel gave a small bow, still upset, “we’ll see you next class, Professor.”
Jol nodded and the two left.
The message he’d just received was from Nate reminding him about the impromptu race Bay had agreed to the other day. He wanted to call it off now but thought better of it. There was nothing more he could do and he wasn’t equipped with the proper tools to regulate his emotional response to Sila’s potentially leaving. Racing was exactly what he needed right now to help take his mind off things and give him somewhere else to focus all of that pent up emotion.
Still, that didn’t stop him from calling Sila on his way out of the classroom.
Or trying again when walking to his car after there’d been no answer.
Or again while he drove to the docks.
* * *
He’d lost.
Bay stood on Sickle bridge, staring down sightlessly at the inky water below. The night sky was dark above him, only the twinkling stars and their small pinpricks of brightness there to witness him coming apart.
The streets were quiet and still, with the last passing car on the bridge itself having been almost a half hour ago. The race hadn’t ended until after midnight as per usual, and it was probably close to three am now. Bay had no idea how long he’d actually been there, standing in the chill in only a t-shirt and frayed black jeans, but he hardly felt the sting of the weather anyway.
