Page 67 of Brutal Captivity

“The world,” Callisto responds, his voice as low as mine. A small smile plays on his lips, like he knows something I don't.

“Okay, go for it.” I gesture toward the blank canvas. I don’t break eye contact with him, though, feeling as though we are playing some sort of game. He squeezes my hip, lips getting closer to mine. I almost lean in. We almost close the distance. His breath hits my face. Callisto’s scent mixes with my own, smoky with a hint of vanilla. I need to bottle it.

thirty

“You see the world and want to paint it. I see the world, and I want to destroy it.”- Leo

“Takeoffyourclothesand lay down.” Callisto's voice is deep and syrupy smooth, coating me in a mixture of sweet and sultry.

I lick my lips, wanting to taste the words. He closes the distance between our mouths, kissing me slowly, his tongue licking the seam of my mouth. I briefly wonder if he can taste his words on my lips. After a short amount of time, far too short in my opinion, Callisto pulls back, looking over at the bed as if to say, ‘what are you waiting for’.

I do as Callisto suggests, stripping down to my underwear then laying on the bed. The air is cold against my skin, and I shiver, anticipation making the chill-bumps worse. I spent the last hour in his lap with his dick pressed against my crack the entire time. I may have wiggled more than necessary to feel it harden beneath me.

“This paint is water soluble, but it may stain your skin. Is that okay?” Callisto asks, walking slowly toward me with a palette in his hand. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. I don’t know exactly why I’m so nervous. It could be the way his voice sounds slow and silky smooth, with an underlying promise. It could be what the near future holds for me.

“That’s fine. It may not matter in a few hours anyways.” I meant it as a joke, something to lighten the mood, but it came out stilted and sad, my voice cracking. I close my eyes for a moment, not wanting to see his face.

He asked me this morning not to pretend everything was okay, and I had been trying to honor that. I’ve been ignoring things, but I haven't exactly been pretending. This is the first time I’ve said anything about the impending events since this morning.

Callisto is so quiet, I am forced to open my eyes to see if he’s even still in the room. He is. He’s standing beside the bed looking at me with anunreadable expression.

He looks like he wants to say something but doesn't know what to say. He can’t argue with me. We both know it. We both have to come to terms with the fact that in the best case scenario, we will be separated, and in the worst, we will die together.

The sunlight is pouring through the window behind Callisto, giving him an otherworldly glow, his curls looking more like a halo. I haven't considered heaven since I was a young boy, going to church with my mom and dad. I had always pictured golden roads and beautiful angels with long blond hair and blue eyes. I was wrong, though.

Heaven is this room, hours before my demise. Angels have dark hair and green eyes. Perhaps I have already died and have done something right in my deceitful life to deserve this. Or maybe hell is this being taken from me. Maybe hell does exist after all, and I will be met with it in a few short hours when this all goes away.

“When did you start collecting your art?” Callisto asks, and I am confused by the question. He looks at my arms, the tattoos scattered there, and I understand.

“Umm… I got my first one when I was sixteen, and just kind of never stopped. I thought they were a good way to mark various milestones in my life. I figured if I didn’t have a physical home, I could always take what was important with me wherever I went. Even though I could lose everything else, I could never lose my tattoos,” I explain, the words coming out quick. He smiles at the story, moving to the bed beside me.

“That’s beautiful,Leone,” Callisto responds, squeezing some paint onto the palette. I wait patiently as he completes the task. Well, as patiently as I can. I feel like I'm going to jump out of my skin at any moment, the anticipation of what's to come making my world feel unsteady. “That’s kind of the reason I got my ‘Brazil’ tattoo. Maybe I will get more if we survive this.”

“You would look pretty with tattoos. You’re pretty anyway, don’t get me wrong. You love art so much, so I don’t see why you wouldn’t get it tattooed. There are some really amazing tattoo artists out there,” I say, for lack of something better to say. So much is being left unspoken, but neither of us are willing to broach the subject. Instead, we dance around it like flames in the night.

“Maybe you can take me to your favorite artist after all of this is over.” His smile is sad, as if he knows it’s a lie.

A stabbing sensation hits me directly in the heart because I want to take him to get a tattoo. I want to do all of this with him, but none of it will happen. Ialmost call bullshit on his lie, but I don't. I let the fantasy play out because that is so much easier than facing the truth.

“Oh, I know just the place. He’s a great artist. The guy that did this bird.” I point to my arm. He takes a brush, dipping it into some green paint. He stares at the bird for a few moments, apparently deciding this is the first tattoo he wants to paint.

A pink tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth as he slowly lowers the brush down to my skin. The paint is cold, and I barely resist the urge to pull away from the unfamiliar sensation. It also tickles, a chuckle escaping me a moment later.

“Maybe after, we could go to a gallery. I could explain to you why I like certain paintings. Show you my favorite pieces,” Callisto continues as he paints more colors onto my skin, making the bird come to life. All of my tattoos are in black and white, and perhaps this is the reason. Only Callisto could add color to them.

“I’d like that. We could go get coffee or something, maybe go shopping. You could buy some ridiculously expensive clothes, and I could watch you model them for me,” I add. Images of a giddy Callisto twirling in a frilly shirt for me flash before my eyes.

I don't like to fantasize over things I will never have, preferring to live in the moment. I’ve spent far too many nights envisioning my old home, being wrapped up in my mom’s arms again, only to wake up on a cold street with an empty stomach. Fantasies are false hope.

“Then we could come back here and invite your friends over for more greasy food and video games,” Callisto muses, starting to fill in the small teddy bear with purple paint, making quick work of it.

“Did you have fun last night?” I ask because I can’t help myself. My friends can be a bit too much, especially with all of the harmless jabs and playful name calling.

“Yeah. I had a lot of fun actually. It…” Callisto’s sentence trails off, his brush pausing on my skin. I look at him, waiting patiently for him to finish his thought. He gets off the bed, and I think I may have done something to upset him. I open my mouth to ask, when he moves, straddling my hips. I suppress a groan at the feeling of his weight on top of my body once more.

Callisto gently takes my necklace, moving it to the side. Then he dips his brush into some more paint, lowering it onto my chest while he continues speaking, “It’s just that… like… it felt like I had friends. I know that’s stupid because they’re your friends…”

“It’s not stupid. They aren’t just my friends. Nico was there, and he’s your friend. I also think you and Evan could be good friends. He’s really smart, like you. You two have a similar sense of humor. There is a reason why you and Nico fit in so seamlessly last night,” I point out, trying to make Callisto understand that he is capable of having friends. That people can like him, and he doesn’t have to be alone all the time. He smiles sadly down at me, as if he doesn't believe me, and I wish I had more time to make him understand.