Our Sick Obsessions | 14: Love

It was a little past noon by the time Max and Cameron stepped back into their suite. Somehow, it’d come to feel like home; Max felt sad at the thought of leaving it behind tomorrow. At least they weren’t heading straight back to Pittsburgh. The one thing he wasn’t looking forward to was ever returning to that big house they shared there again. After August and Val, that house felt cursed. He knew the smell of blood that lingered in it was only psychosomatic, as he could smell it even thinking of it. Either way, he didn’t feel good about ever setting foot in it again.
          “Cameron?” he asked.
          The writer was taking his time packing clothes back into his suitcase. “Yeah, Max?”
          “When we do go back to Pittsburgh . . . I mean, this might be a little crazy, but . . . Could we not live in Glen Hazel?”
          Those entrancing dark caramel eyes met his. “You want to move?”
          Max returned a meek nod.
          “Hm.” He folded a shirt, stuffed it in. “Well, my father’s got plenty of spare houses. He rents most of them out, but some are flat out unoccupied. I’m only afraid he’d rent out the one we live in now.”
          “Memories?”
          “No. There might be something incriminating left behind from Halloween. Like the torture chamber in the basement. Or, as Val called it, the ‘kink dungeon’.”
          Remembering the basement caused August’s death scene to flood back to him. August’s cries, Val’s screams. The cracking sounds, the blood. The blood . . . Max recoiled and gave his head a firm shake. Cameron didn’t acknowledge this.
          August loved Cameron too. Look where that got him . . . “How’d you meet him?”
          “Who him?”
          “August.”
          Cameron seemed okay with this line of questioning, as he answered in a casual voice. “Well, it must’ve been early 2013 . . . January, I think. The day before the spring semester. Not sure how the hell he managed it, but Carnegie Mellon accepted him as a transfer student. Must’ve had some wicked high grades. He came straight from Denmark. Because my previous dormmate fucked off the previous semester, they plopped him in with me.” He stood up straight and gazed at the white curtain glowing over the window.
          “I remember how baffled the snow made him. I guess it doesn’t snow often in Denmark. He was wearing some sort of light parka. Baby blue. It made him look almost infantile, which I guess made it funnier when he walked in as my girlfriend was leaving.”
          Max glanced at him in confusion. “Wait. Girlfriend?”
          “Ah, well, I mean, she was leaving because I’d pissed her off. She was only in her underwear when she ripped open the door and slammed into him.” A laugh. “She asked him if he was my boyfriend. Thought it’d insult me to imply I was gay. If only she knew. Anyway, August was so f*****g stunned. He didn’t run, though, so that earned my respect. I didn’t make the best first impression, but he found it charming how I played it off.”
          “So you’re . . . bi, then?” he asked, recalling Ash’s question to him a few days prior.
          “Yep. Did I forget to tell you that?” He stuffed in his dress pants, as well. “Hm. Whoops.”
          Max looked at the floor. “I can’t believe you could bring yourself to kill him.”
          “As I said: I warned him.”
          “All he did was speak his mind. You could’ve denied it. You didn’t have to murder him, especially not so brutally.”
          The writer huffed. “Look, if it helps you pretend I’m not a monster, I do regret it. If I’d know he was born on a doomsday, I wouldn’t have killed him so soon. But that’s his own fault, too. Over and over I’d ask him, but he’d never answer me. For the longest time I thought he was born in March.”
          “Why March?”
          “I don’t know; he didn’t seem like a Gemini. I always felt he acted more like a Pisces.”
          “Do you believe in astrology?”
          Cameron shrugged. “I don’t know if I’d call it ‘believing’. I think it’s a good basis to run someone by. It gives everyone a personality type to compare and contrast with. Lets me know their likely weaknesses right off the bat, too.”
          “Ha. Too right.” A pause. “What was Julian?”
          Cameron froze. After a long moment, he finally answered: “Libra. October 17^th. Doomsday.” His tone was solemn.
          The fact that Julian was born only a week after him came as no surprise to Max. What did was that Cameron had never told him this. He never seemed any different on October 17^th. “When did he . . . ?”
          “Not on his doomsday.”
          Max lowered his head again. “August was right, then.”
          “About what?”
          “That you’re an ‘avid fan of coincidences’.”
          Cameron said nothing. When Max started to pack as well, he said, “I’ll do it.”
          “I don’t mind.”
          “No, I’ll do it. Do you want to see Ash one last time?”
          Max felt puzzled for a beat. “Why would I want to do that? I’m engaged to you. I’m done with Ash.”
          “Odds are you’ll never see him again. I figured you’d want some sort of out to go say goodbye.”
          “Was it something I said? Did I upset you?”
          “No. I’m only trying to be considerate. You don’t have to go see him if you don’t want to.”
          Max thought about it. He’s got a point. Our meeting was a fluke; we might never see each other again. How cruel would it be to leave without even telling him I’m going? I reckon he loves me. I’d be gutted if I were in his position. As he thought this, he found himself fiddling with the pendant again; his new nervous tick, he realized. Never thought I’d say this, but Cameron’s right. I owe Ash a goodbye at least.
          “Thank you,” he said.
          “So you’re going, then?”
          “Yeah. I won’t be more than ten minutes, I promise.”
          “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
          “I promise. If he cracks onto me, I’ll leave even sooner.” He turned and headed for the door.
          “Be careful.”
          The Aussie stopped. Right. Ash has forced himself onto me before . . . I might not have a say.
          No, f**k that. I can handle myself. I won’t let him drug me this time.
          “I’ll be right back.” Then, he left the suite. As he headed for the elevator, he felt uncertain.
          I feel like he wanted me to leave, despite what he says. He’d never let me do something like this otherwise, even if I’d asked. I should’ve stayed and apologized.
          In the elevator, he pressed the button for Ash’s floor. Only then did it occur to him to check-in via text. Pulling out his phone, he sent him this: “Ash, I’m coming up to your suite. Are you there?”
          A few seconds later: “Yes. I’ll be waiting.”
          When the elevator stopped on the floor he wanted, he got off and took a breath. How will he react? Not well, I reckon. He took his time in approaching the door to Ash’s suite. Once he reached it, he hesitated before knocking. How should I tell him, then? Should I be blunt, or . . . ?
          The door swung open. Max looked up; Ash gazed down at him. For once, he wasn’t wearing a suit. Today, he was wearing dark jeans and a white dress shirt.
          “Hi . . .” Max mumbled after he examined the new attire.
          “Were you planning on standing there without knocking?” the auditor asked.
          “Sorry. I was trying to figure out what to say.”
          “Come inside.”
          “No, Ash, I�"”
          “Please. We can talk over a drink.”
          Max took a breath and pinched his eyes shut. Then, he forced himself to say it: “Ash, I’m leaving tomorrow.”
          This shut him up for a moment. “You’re what?”
          “Cameron and I are leaving Switzerland.”
          “Why?”
          I should be blunt. It lets him know it’s not something he can change. Max held up his left hand, showing off the ring. “We’re engaged now. We can’t get married here, though; it’s not legal. So, we’re leaving.”
          Ash stared at the ring. The only visible sign of his inner anguish at this revelation was how wide his sea foam eyes were. “I . . . see,” he said at last. “You’re . . . marrying him.”
          “Yeah.” The Aussie moved his hair behind his ear. “Um, sorry. This isn’t fair to you, I know, but . . .”
          “It’s . . .” The auditor let out a small laugh. “It’s fine,” he insisted. “I . . . I should’ve . . . expected this.”
          “Are you okay?”
          Ash nodded wildly. Then, he said, “Listen, uh . . . The offer’s still open. To come inside, I mean. I’d like to talk to you, just . . . just one more time.”
          “Ash, I can’t.”
          “I’ve still got some chardonnay. I won’t drug you this time, I swear. Let’s share one more drink.”
          Max shook his head, but then Ash flashed him a puppy face.
          “Please? You owe me that much.”
          He stared up at him. Then, relenting, he huffed. “Yeah, all right, fine. I won’t drink, though.”
          “You’ll change your mind,” Ash teased. Once Max was inside, he closed the door, but didn’t lock it. “Take a seat on the couch.”
          Max did as he asked. A few seconds later, the auditor joined him with the bottle of chardonnay and two flute glasses. He filled them, then handed one to the Aussie, who attempted to decline it.
          “No, Ash.”
          “Come on. Don’t you trust me?”
          Without saying yes or no, Max gave his answer by glaring first at the bottle, then at Ash. He got the hint and looked a bit playful.
          “Oh, Max,” he crooned. “You do me wrong to think that.” He set down the bottle beside his chair rather than in plain sight on the table. Then, he held up his own glass. “If it were drugged, would I do this?” Throwing his head back, he downed it all in one go. Max watched him do this, finally a little relieved.
          Well . . . One more drink won’t hurt, right? I mean, it’s not like he’d drug himself, would he? Finally, he took the offered glass and gave the oaked wine inside a meek sip. Blech. Turns out I still don’t like alcohol.
          Ash leaned back in his chair. “So. Marriage. When?”
          “Valentine’s Day. At least, that’s the plan.”
          “Where?”
          Rather than answer right away, Max hesitated. I don’t think Cameron would appreciate it if he happened to skip work to come to our wedding . . . “I don’t know if I should tell you . . .”
          “I can assure you my schedule for February is packed and non-negotiable.”
          Ah, what the hell? “We’re getting married in Brisbane.”
          Ash, fingers entwined, clenched his hands. “And you’re okay with this?”
          “I said yes.”
          “You said yes,” Ash repeated, tone flat. Then, he unclenched his hands. They moved to the arms of the chair, where his fingers dug into the fabric. “You suggested the plan was to marry here. Why? Does Cameron have family in Zürich?”
          “Grandparents, yeah.” Max shook his chardonnay a bit. “They aren’t completely onboard with our plans, though.”
          “All this, even though Cameron abuses you.”
          The Aussie let out a small titter. “No. No, I . . . I’m sorry. It’s my fault you think that. We got into a bit of a blue there, but he’s been gentler since.”
          “That’s how they get you, Maxie. They abuse you, then they charm you. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’ ‘It’ll never happen again.’ ‘I love you so much.’ ‘I need you and you need me.’ Then, once you’re back in the palm of their hand”�"he shot up and slammed his fist against his palm with a loud slap�"“wham!”
          Max jumped at the fast movement and loud noise. Ash glanced up at him, eyes and voice both seeming a little dark.
          “You’ll never know what hit you.”
          The Aussie gulped. “Listen. I should go. I told Cameron I’d only take a minute or two.”
          “So soon?” Ash frowned. “Maxie, please. Stay a little longer. At least finish your drink.”
          Max shook his head, uncertain. “No. I can tell I’ve made you upset.”
          “I’m fine. The only thing that makes me upset is . . .” His voice cracked a little as he continued: “Is the thought that this could be our last conversation.”
          Lowering his head, the artist sighed. “I’m sorry, Ash.”
          “Then stay a while longer. I’m sure Cameron will understand if you take a little longer than you said.” He reached over, took hold of his hand. This made him look him in the eyes as he said, “Stay, Maxie. Let me pretend you’re mine for five minutes more, I beg of you.”
          The Aussie’s heart felt heavy. I can’t leave him like that. It’d kill him! It was that line of thought that made him resign. “Okay. Five minutes. But . . . please don’t touch me. I’m engaged now. I belong to Cameron.”
          “Not yet, you don’t.” That said, Ash leaned over and kissed Max on the mouth. As much as he wanted to resist, he wasn’t sure if he should. As if sensing this uncertainty, the auditor pulled back on his own. Looking him straight in the eye again, he told him, “I love you, Max.”
          Max took this in. “I’m sorry.”
          “No, no.” Ash, hands shaking a little, moved Max’s hair aside, uncovering his whole face. “No. You love me, too. I know you do.”
          “I’m sorry.”
          The man frowned again. Then, he leaned back. He only sat on the chair for a moment before getting up and walking around the couch. Max gazed at the table in front of him, at his glass of chardonnay.
          “I can tell,” Ash insisted as he paced behind him. “I can tell you share my feelings. The only reason you won’t say it is because Cameron’s brainwashed you.”
          “Ash, I’m sorry.”
          “Stop apologizing on his behalf. Even if it came from him, I wouldn’t accept it.”
          The Aussie huffed. “This is over. I’m getting married to Cameron. It’s not up for debate.”
          “You’re engaged, not married. You can still back out. I can help you back out.”
          “I’ve made my decision, Ash.”
          Ash stopped pacing. Both of them were quiet for a moment. Though he felt bad, Max also found Ash’s inability to accept his decision frustrating.
          Why can’t he accept it? We’ve only known each other for a few days!
          “Let’s say Cameron wasn’t around anymore,” Ash proposed. “Would we have a chance together, then?”
          “To be honest, I don’t know. If I never met Cameron and we met under normal circumstances, then . . . I don’t know. Maybe I might’ve dated you for a while.”
          “Do you like me?”
          “Yeah. You’re a decent guy, Ash.”
          “Do you find me attractive?”
          Max rolled his eyes. “Yes.”
          “Do you love me?”
          “Ash.”
          “Do you?”
          “Ash, you know what my answer is already.”
          “I want to hear you say it.”
          Max let out a sharp exhale. “No. I don’t love you. I like you as a person and wish you well, but I don’t love you. I love Cameron.”
          There was a long spell of silence. Through it, Max rubbed his forehead in growing irritation.
          The longer I stay, the more I ruin what little friendship there is to salvage. I should leave before we hate each other.
          A sound caught his attention. It sounded like the glugging of liquid pouring out of a bottle. Behind him, he could hear it spilling against the floor. His heavy heart sunk further. With as little movement as possible, he turned his eyes to the space beside Ash’s chair.
          The bottle of chardonnay was gone.
          “I’m sorry, Maxie.” With that, he slammed the now-empty thick glass bottle against the back of Max’s head. The force of the blow stunned him, causing him to fall sideways and roll off the couch. Watching him, studying him, he walked around the length to stand at his feet. Max groaned, half-conscious. As he laid there, his fingers rubbed against the carpet. Pushing the table out of the way, the white couch back, he picked him up by his hood. When he started dragging him toward the bedroom, he finally got the strength to fight, albeit weakly.
          “No . . . ! No . . . !”
          Ash whipped him down onto the bed. Then, he leaned over him. With full force, he gripped Max’s throat. The resulting asphyxiation made the Aussie try to gasp. His weak, scrawny hands clawed at the stronger ones around his neck.
          “The agreement was that we would share you,” Ash declared. “Now you’re going off to marry him? Without me? What about me? What about me? You belong to me, goddamn you! I tried to save you from him! I will save you from him.”
          As he choked, Max tried to say his name. Then, when that didn’t work, he started trying to say something else. Ash listened, attempting to figure out what it was.
          “C�"Caa�"aam�"! Aack! C-Caah�"!”
          “Don’t cry for him. He’s a dead man walking! I’ll kill him for trying to take you from me!” In protest, Ash wrung Max’s neck tighter. The Aussie’s attempts to fight him were growing weaker with each second.
          “Shh, shh, Maxie. Shh. I’m here. It’s me. I’ll keep you safe. You’re safe with me. It’s okay. You and I will be together forever. So, shh. I love you, but you made me do this.”
          He watched the Aussie’s sad gray eyes as they rolled up a few times. Then, at last, his dark eyelids drooped shut and he stopped fighting. For good measure, Ash kept choking him for a few seconds longer. Then, as if only now realizing what he was doing, he tore himself back. Breathing hard from fear, he took a step back. Max didn’t start coughing or squirming. He only laid there. Ash lifted his bangs up, pressing his hand against his forehead as he leaned against the wall.
          “M-Maxie?”
          Nothing.
          The auditor pulled himself off the wall and tried to steady his breathing. He held out his hands and looked down at them.
          “Look at me. Look at what I’ve done. Maxie, you’ve made me into a monster . . . but I still love you.” He twitched, snapped his head up to look at the strangled Australian strewn across the bed. On unsteady feet, he wobbled closer and leaned down on him again. His eyes were open only a sliver, but he didn’t blink them. Curious, the auditor wrapped his hand around one of his wrists. A few seconds later, satisfied, he dragged Max further onto the bed. In doing so, he wound up laying over him, a leg between his. A warm shiver ran down his body; in response, he caressed Max’s cheek.
          “I love you so much.”
          When their lips met, he was fine with the lack of reciprocation. Max’s lips were soft and sweet enough that he didn’t need him to kiss back to enjoy the sensation. Though he wasn’t sure how long after that he spent kissing him, sooner or later he noticed he was getting hard. Yet, despite his urge for satisfaction, he forced himself to pull away and stand up.
          “Later. We can enjoy ourselves later. For now . . .” He approached the closet; pulled out four belts. Before meeting Max, he’d always wondered why he felt compelled to have so many belts in his luggage. They all matched, and it seemed pointless to have more than one. But now, he was glad he had them. Same as before, he wrapped the belts around the bedframe, then used them to tie down Max’s wrists and ankles.
          “So you don’t run,” he informed the husk. After taking off the one he wore at present, he got his tie from the closet as well. He stuffed it into Max’s mouth, then wrapped on the belt to hold it in place.
          “There. Now you’re safe from yourself.” Loving, he sat on the edge of the bed and again caressed his cheek. “I’ll be back, Maxie. When I return, you’ll be free. I’m going to save you from Cameron.” He leaned over, kissed the Aussie’s pale cheek. As he did so, he dug a hand through his pockets until he found his cellphone. Pocketing it, he also reached down and removed Max’s engagement ring. This, he slipped into the breast pocket of his shirt. “You’ll love me after I save you from his brainwashing.”
          The living area smelled like wine, but cleaning the spilled chardonnay was the least of his concerns right now. From the hook near the door, he grabbed his blue, purple-lapelled coat. After slipping it on, he took out his own cellphone and dialed a number near the bottom of his contact list. It started ringing, so while he waited, he glanced into a mirror on the wall and adjusted his hair. Finally, his call was answered. He smirked at his reflection and put on his best casual voice.
          “Hello, I’d like a taxi.”