The Seasons

Chapter 34

“What do you plan to do, Slaine?”

Slaine stared at them blankly. Was it because he was with the other man who had first received his blessing? And why couldn’t he shake the nasty feeling of betrayal? And the dream. He ignored Chaos, instead staring at the stacks of exam papers. The dream was so odd, he’d see a man with long dark hair, and he’d be screaming to be let out. But he wasn’t trapped anywhere; Slaine would be standing before him, and the man would be thumping on what appeared to be an invisible wall. He wasn’t sure. It was always dark around them.

He was about to say something when the sharp ring of his phone interrupted him, he scowled, and when he saw that it was Elizabeth, he silenced the call and began to pack up his things for the day. He slipped his phone into his pocket, which continued vibrating, and he simply ignored it. He stared at the piece of paper where Michael had written the names of the two men before, and when he read the second name, dread crept through his bones. It wasn’t him. Surely, it couldn’t be him. Slaine had moved so far away that he was no longer in Crestfell. This had to be someone else with the same name. It had to be. He couldn’t see him. He didn’t want to see him. He scrunched the paper up and stuffed it into his pocket.

“Slaine?” Chaos asked; Slaine ignored them and slammed his office door shut as he walked out. He left the school building and began walking to his apartment. He stared blankly ahead, and when he finally got sick of the calls, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and stared at Aether’s number; he scowled as he answered,

“What do you want, Aether?”

“Hello, Slaine,” he said, his voice gentle as always and the accent that wasn’t entirely traceable. “Elizabeth would like to have a word with you.”

“I’m driving,” he deadpanned. “Whoops, goodbye,” and he hung up.

When he managed to get home fifteen minutes later, he slumped onto the couch, and when he sneaked a peek at his reflection, Chaos was staring at him with an expression he couldn’t quite pinpoint, “we need to talk,” Slaine said.

“I didn’t think it was necessary for me to tell you about someone who has already passed, Slaine, I did not want to bring you any harm.”

“I’m not harmed,” he retorted childishly as he made himself comfortable.

Chaos smiled, and Slaine stared in the mirror as they placed their hand over his. He looked down at his hand where he felt the phantom touch and blinked back tears for some odd reason. “I can tell you anything you would like to know about him; I didn’t mean to hide all this from you. Sion died, Slaine. He died almost two hundred years ago.”

“His name, it was Sion?”

“Yes, it was.”

“Why did you give him a blessing? Why him and why me?”

“Well, the blessing he and I had and the blessing you and I have, are different, you must believe that. He wanted an escape, and so I gave him one, with the promise that I could have his heart.”

Slaine’s eyes dropped. “You were in love with him?” He whispered; he couldn’t bring himself to stare at the deity to see their expression when they talked about him. He scoffed, so it was true. He somehow had stupid feelings for the deity, which was ridiculous. The whole f*****g thing was so stupid. He preferred it when he couldn’t feel them, where he could have gone about his day ignorant.

“Slaine, that is not-” Chaos was interrupted by a loud pounding on the door, which Slaine was somewhat grateful for.

He stood up and walked over. Slaine stared at Chaos in the reflection beside the door, and they looked like they would say something. He even heard the first few letters leave their mouth, but he didn’t want to hear what they had to say. He needed to sort everything out first with Michael, so he pulled the door open to block his view of them, and when his eyes landed on who it was, he slammed the door shut.

Panic crept through his bones. It was him. They had been the same man. Slaine knew Micahel’s lover; he slid down the door, blocking him from trying to open the door as he squeezed himself into a ball, placing his head between his legs and his hands over his ears to cover up the loud humming noise. He blinked back the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. He looked the same, short brown hair, green eyes, always so much bigger than him with his muscles.

He didn’t want to see him. He couldn’t see him.

He wasn’t sure how long he kept himself tucked into a ball, using his strength to stop him from opening the door behind him, and all he wanted was to hear Chaos. So he peeled his eyes away from the ground, standing up to see them, but they weren't there when he looked into the mirror.

The man slammed into the door and came tumbling into the apartment, and without meaning to, Slaine put some distance between them, taking a few steps back. He kept going until his knees hit the sofa; he looked down a little but then snapped his eyes over to him. He couldn’t look away from him; he would hurt him.

“Slaine,” he sneered, taking steps towards him, “what the hell have you been saying to Michael?”

Slaine snapped his eyes over to the mirror to see if he could catch a glimpse of Chaos, and when the deity was nowhere in sight, he panicked. “Get out of my house, Connor.”

“Oh, you finally found the words to speak, did you?” he hissed; Slaine tried to move away from him, to put some well-deserved space between them so he could think of what to say, of what to do, but his heart was pounding much more than it should have, his gums hurt and he knew his nails had already elongated.

“Get out!”

“Stay the f**k out of mine and Michaels life.”

“He’s a minor! Get away from him, stay away from you f*****g pedophile.”

“I love him.”

Slaine scowled as he moved around the couch. “Don’t pull that bullshit with me; you like his age; when he turns eighteen, you’re going to leave him. Keep your grubby hands off of him, pedo.”

“Call me a pedo one more time. See what happens,” Connor hissed. He seemed much more significant than Slaine remembered, his muscles larger, his face had aged, and he had wrinkles now. His hair seemed grey, and his beard had white hairs scattered throughout.

“You are though, aren’t you? You went after me and well, let’s just say I was a lot younger than Michael.”

“You still look exactly the same,” Connor said, “do you feel the same?”

Slaine’s nostrils flared as he stared at Connor in disgust. “f**k you.”

Connor burst out laughing, a large and mighty laugh as he leaned over, holding his stomach; when he stood up straight, his shirt clung to his muscles, and Slaine panicked ever so slightly. “You can say all you want, but they believed me, not you. All I had to do was lie, and they sent you away. I bet that hurt. Your first family, and you’re the one who screwed it up.”

“You screwed it up.”

“What do you mean?” Connor asked, c*****g his head. “My parents still loved me. And I had so many foster brothers and sisters after you, and I loved them the same way I loved you.”

“You’re disgusting,” Slaine hissed as his gums throbbed. “I’m going to kill you.”

Connor lunged for him, and before Slaine could react to the incoming threat, Connor was on the ground, face first groaning; Slaine looked around expecting Kevin, or Atticus or hell, even Aether. But who he saw was much worse.

~*~