I Understand
I Understand
They hadn’t seen him, making his way through the woods, keeping an eye on what was happening and who survived. There was something about the tall one, something that made him think he’d make it through no matter what. He wanted him too and he found himself watching closer and closer, ready to help if he needed it. If. The rest meant nothing to him.
Tom Hanniger had watched through it all, then when it was over, he’d followed him. The lived in a small city. Nothing too fancy but an easy place to lose yourself in if you needed to. Once Tom was settled in he found his way into the man’s life. Easy enough, a fellow college student. They saw each other on campus. Clay, he found out easily enough his name in the woods, his sister and friends screaming it too often and too loud to be ignored, would smile sometimes at him. Other days he seemed dark and heavy. Like the world was too much to take.
Tom understood that. Tom understood better than most what a mask could do to you. He wanted to share it with Clay. He sat beside him on the open grass between classes on one of the heavy days. “Hey.”
Clay looked up, more annoyance than anything else in his eyes and it didn’t faze Tom at all. “Bad day?” He asked.
“Stupid teachers.” Clay said.
Tom just nodded. That night, he followed Clay’s professor home. Clay was special though and it wasn’t Valentine’s Day. He deserved better than imitation hearts and imitation love. He deserved to be laid on a bed of roses and adored, worshipped for who he was, for the strength and beauty that he was.
The next day the news on campus was buzzing with the brutality of the professor’s death. When Tom asked Clay to let him show him something, the man came, unsteady but still trusting.
When he opened the box Clay gasped. He reached inside, pulled out the single red rose dripping in blood. His eyes turned to Clay. “Did you?”
“He was hurting you and I couldn’t let that happen. I wanted to share this with you, wanted to tell you but I was waiting for the right time…” When Tom brought out the mask he smiled softly. The miner’s mask was like comfort and home. “This is mine.” He held out the other one, and this was the real clincher. Had he read Clay wrong? Was he going to mess all of this up this time? “I think this belongs to you.”
Clay dropped the rose and it landed on the floor with a trail of blood splatter that would have fascinated Tom at any other time. He looked on hopefully as Clay took the hockey mask from his hands.
“How did you?”
“I saw.”
Clay didn’t ask why he hadn’t helped. He didn’t ask how he got it. He didn’t ask about the deaths. He asked only one thing. “You… you understand.”
Tom picked up the rose, pressed it to Clay’s hands with a smile that was warmth and affection and possession too strong to control. Clay’s eyes widened as the thorns pressed in but he didn’t make a noise. When Tom pulled it free he let it drop again, bringing Clay’s hand to his mouth. He licked at the tiny cuts, licked the blood from his rose and from the tiny thorn pricks until there was nothing left. He was almost disappointed until he looked up, saw the way Clay bit into his lip. Saw the way he collected the blood on the tip of his tongue and leaned down in offering.
He sucked the blood from his tongue, bit and sucked at his lip until it bled plenty and let Clay bit into his own tongue until there was enough to satisfy them both. When he pulled back, heart beating wild and eyes the same, Clay smiled at him, pulled him closer by the scruff of the neck and laughed into his mouth.
“Yeah. I understand.”