“I’ll be careful,” he replied quietly, locking eyes with Shane now as a ghost of a smile spread across his lips.
Leo was determined right then and there to never fear the Dungeon again.
*
Sometimes, when the itch got too strong, when he craved the old him, he would crumble and signal for Hunter. He would pick up the phone and send a simple message.
Talk.
Then he would wait in the alleyway behind an abandoned cinema. Nobody wanted to rescue the fucking thing when it went out of business. And it took up the corner of main street, looking sad as fuck with its dilapidated paint and smashed out windows. There were bad vibes with the old cinema. Nobody liked to be around it. Bad juju or some shit because there was a story about a man found hanging in there once upon a time. Probably a fake story, too. Because that’s what bored people in town do: talk shit.
Leo had parked a few streets down, bought a scone at one of those tourist trap shops that had line-ups in the summer but employed sad teens in the winter. He sipped a coffee, had a quick word with the owner before they jovially went their own ways, and then Leo’s smile would slip as he zigzagged to shops, behind the shops, all over the fucking show with his hood over his head, his face downcast.
Until he was in that godforsaken alley next to Bad Juju Cinema, waiting for Hunter to show.
Today he made him wait.
“What’s going on?” Hunter gruffly asked an hour after that damn text.
“What took you so long?” Leo retorted, whipping his hood down as he faced him.
Hunter, too, was in a hoodie, and the hood was up. Leo wanted to laugh because he looked like Hunter regardless of what he wore. This was such a stupid fucking thing to do. What did he need him for again?
“I’m on the Road now,” Hunter said, shoving his hood down. “I don’t get to play a slick dick in an office like you do.”
“It’s more than that and you know it.”
“It is?”
“Yeah.”
“You work long hours or something?”
“I do.”
“Poor baby.”
Leo frowned. “Fuck you, Hunt.”
“I like to fuck pussy, Leo.”
Leo huffed as Hunter grinned, pressing his back against the brick wall. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it up. Leo watched him, watched the grace in which he did it. No shakes. No curses. Hunter seemed different. More relaxed. Not an agitated jerk for once.
Leo ground his teeth. “How’s Skye?”
“Well taken care of,” Hunter answered, his lips spreading into a mischievous smile as he peered down at his smoke.
Leo fisted his hand. “I want to punch that fucking smirk off your face.”
Hunter looked at him, his eyes light. “Come at me then.”
And Leo didn’t waste a second before lunging at him, punching him across the face as Hunter roared with laughter. He didn’t even try defending himself because he was winning regardless of whether he got beaten by Leo or not. His victory was at the clubhouse, and her name was Skye. Leo fumed.Motherfucker.
By the time Leo stopped, Hunter’s lip was bleeding, and his teeth were bloody because he kept fucking smiling. He pulled out another smoke and lit it up as Leo stood against the wall, catching his breath.
“We gotta talk,” he finally said, panting.
Hunter shrugged. “So talk.”