19. Chapter 19

Chapter nineteen

H ope was a cruel, heartless bitch. I know this because after Felix and I shared a perfect wonderful, amazing night together, reality—of course—came crashing down. Though not before I had some sweaty, dirty, amazing sex. For the remaining few weeks before Barry's party, I spent as much time as I possibly could inside Felix.

I neglected my laundry, and instead, fucked Felix over the dryer.

I neglected my dishes, and instead, rutted into him over the sink.

I didn't have him on his front porch like I'd pictured—but I did push him to the floor in his front hallway one night and eat his ass till he cried.

I fucked him on every possible surface I could, in every possible combination I could think of. And when I wasn't humping Felix's ass, my dick somehow always found its way inside the wet, slurping cavern of his throat. He liked it when I choked him. He liked it even more when his little spiky teeth nicked my cock and he could suck the blood at the same time he fed on my cum.

He'd sucked my dick so many times I almost forgot what it felt like to not have my cock buried inside him in some way or another.

And every single time he was a bossy little bastard. Climbing on top of me. Biting me. Scratching me. Leaving hickeys and bruises. Commanding me to "go faster, Marshall." "To the left, Marshall." "That's it, my good boy. Fuck me harder, big shot." "Come inside me—I want to feel it." "God, you're so big. Fucking bruise me, Marshall. That's it. Yes, yes, yes ."

We never did watch the movies he'd told me would be "enlightening." But I figured there was time.

Felix was as insatiable as I was—but even we eventually…reached a limit.

It took several weeks to get there, yes, but it happened.

I was nearly forty, goddammit. I should've been surprised it didn't happen earlier. I'd been spending my nights frolicking around both our houses like I was learning how my dick worked for the first time.

Like all good things, the manic sex-fest came to an end.

There was a moment, two days before Barry's party, that Felix and I were making out in my kitchen while I meal-prepped. For the first time since I'd lost my virginity neither of us pushed for more. Our tongues danced, playing, searching, rubbing. And then the kisses petered off, slow and sweet. Immediately, a comfortable warmth filled the room .

Warmer even, than the oven's heat, or the tray I'd just pulled out of it.

We didn't push for more, not because we didn't want it, but because there was confidence now in our longevity. Confidence that there would be more opportunities for this. Which meant…for now, both of us were content to wait. This meant we were sustainable. That we wouldn't fizzle out, brightly exploding like a supernova only to fade away into nothing.

No.

We would simmer, we would boil, evaporate, condense, then simmer again.

Forever, and ever, and ever.

Steady as the stars.

Unless Felix decided to kill me, of course—but I was seriously beginning to doubt he was going to do it. Not that I minded . I had found, as of late, that I rather liked being alive. I liked it a lot. I liked him a lot. Loved him, actually. (I know, I know, what was wrong with me, right?) Loved him more than pencil holders, sweater vests, chocolate chip cookies, and rhubarb pie.

Loved him more than I loved my car, his car , or the chihuahua I'd had growing up.

Loved him brighter, warmer, more brilliantly than the stars that hung fat and golden when we peered at them through his telescope .

Loved him more than my rituals. Loved him more than blood. Loved him more than the thrill I got from killing.

I was as happy to share silence with Felix as I was to share his bed.

I had ten identical glass containers lined up on the counter, a spatula in my hand, my bare feet chilly where Felix's—even chillier—feet snuggled up atop them. Like he was trying to leech my warmth away like an overgrown koala.

Felix cuddled against my arm. His fingers bunched in the fabric of my frilly apron. I didn't try to dislodge him, even though he was making it admittedly difficult to work. Perhaps that was love. Craving someone's presence even though it should've been annoying. Even though realistically things would be easier alone. Never wanting to be alone again.

I'd never been much of a romantic.

But I decided, then and there, that I wanted Felix to annoy me for the rest of my life. Logic be damned.

Buzzing with happiness, I fed Vlad a few scraps of chicken fat, and then finished divvying my food into Tupperware containers. As the sweet crooning of our song danced through the air, Felix hummed along, his voice vibrating my arm.

I'd thought we were on the same page.

That we'd both just wanted a break that night.

But apparently…I'd been wrong.

Because the day of the party, shit hit the motherfucking fan.

Felix was not sated.

I just…hadn't known that .

Hadn't known that I wasn't giving him everything he needed.

Hadn't had the conversation with him about what exactly we were—at least…not yet. About the "rules" Winnie had said we needed if we were going to be happy. About expectations . I hated that she was right, but she was.

I should've communicated better.

Another box arrived for Felix the morning of the Summer Bash. I spotted it through my kitchen window, sitting on his doorstep, ready to spoil. And like a good soon-to-be-official boyfriend, I decided to store it in my fridge for him—confident that this time I would not forget.

I would've brought it into his house, but I worried about disturbing him. I'd woken him up once before, and I didn't want to do it again. Besides, I'd been keeping him up rather late, for him, anyway, and he needed his beauty sleep before our social debut later that day.

I was… excited .

Yes, I could admit that.

I may have told the entire office.

I may have shown them all pictures of our matching suits, and the rings I'd bought us online.

I may have called both of my sisters individually to brag that I was no longer single. I maybe— might have —told them to start shopping for Felix for Christmas.

I also may have printed off a notice to put on my office door so that everyone would know I was leaving early and not to disturb me until the following work week. (Looking at you, Harold.)

I'd ask Felix to be mine officially tonight, and I was prepared to be the best boyfriend in the history of all boyfriends. Narcissistic? Maybe. But that was one of the more forgivable of my flaws, if you considered murder a flaw.

Which I didn't.

I figured if I brought the box inside, then returned it, I'd redeem myself. Never mind the fact that Felix never needed to know what happened to the last one. I was already heading over there for the block party later that day, and I figured I could bring the new box with me and deposit it safely in his fridge when he was awake.

Only…

It never even occurred to me that Felix had needed that package.

That perhaps there was a reason he'd had it delivered today of all days.

And that while I was applying aftershave and singing—rather awfully—to Ella Fitzgerald—getting ready for our date after work—Felix was across the street, during daylight hours, with the curtains drawn, panicking .

The moment I stepped onto my front lawn, blond hair primped to perfection, my skin buttery soft, the lemon-sage scent of my aftershave wafting through the air, I knew…something had happened.

I knew, because there was a car parked in Felix's driveway .

It wasn't Barry's red minivan.

And it wasn't my Mercedes.

It wasn't recognizable at all.

He has someone over.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Rage, devastation, frustration—unlike anything I'd ever felt before filled my body. White-hot. Wicked. Angry . When I'd killed in the past, I planned it out. I scouted bars, I found bullies—the same cookie-cutter kind of men that had caused Alberta's death. For weeks , I stalked them to make sure that they fit my criteria.

When I lured them outside—under false pretenses—when I swiveled around, not the nerdy, defenseless man they'd expected—but a predator—it was all meticulously planned.

Every last, careful detail.

Down to the way I killed them, twisting their necks till they snapped and their eyes rolled back. Satisfying. Easy to clean up. Practiced .

I was a planner .

But there was no plan in my mind. Not at all. As I tore across the street, used the key Felix had given me, and entered his front door. I could hear voices, but my mind was scarily blank.

I knew…I knew this was my fault. I knew that Felix had his "needs", and I hadn't thought to ask for boundaries. The dust on his bed had given me hope—though it had made me wonder where exactly he slept, if his bed was so abandoned.

My vision was red, red, red .

My eyes burned as I stalked through the house, quiet as a mouse.

If I'd been in my right mind, I would've noticed that I had left the front door open. But I wasn't. And I didn't. All I could think about was the fact that I hadn't told Felix I wanted to be exclusive, even though Winnie had warned me that I needed to.

Why didn't I tell him I want to be his boyfriend?

I told everyone else.

Hell, I've been calling myself his boyfriend since the first time we went out together.

And yet…I had never told him . I had never asked him if exclusivity was something he wanted.

I had given him my heart but I had taken the coward's way out.

I hated regrets.

They ached, and they hurt. And they made me feel tiny and helpless. All of sixteen, standing in an alley behind a bar where I'd found my sister's body. I'd known she was having a tough time at school. But I'd been powerless to help. I hadn't expected her to get cornered like this—on her way home. Perhaps she'd stopped inside for a glass of water? Her friend's father owned the bar after all.

I'd never know.

I'd never know because she was dead—and gone—and I couldn't ask her.

I had always been a man of action .

It comforted me when the ground turned to quicksand and my stomach filled with acid.

This wasn't like before. I wasn't helpless. I wasn't young.

I knew exactly what to do.

And I did that now, falling into my usual pattern as I slipped quietly toward the archway that led to the living room. I could hear the voices behind it. They were quiet, soft. Not…amorous? But that didn't mean anything. Felix had said he had "friends" and I…was realizing just how little I wanted him to interact with anyone aside from me.

Possessive, yes.

Toxic, yes.

But, I had never claimed to be a good person. I never claimed to be anything other than what I was. I was a no good, selfish, very bad man.

And I needed to tell Felix what he meant to me. What I wanted from him. That he was special, that he was my forever—for however long that lasted. Because he felt right inside my arms. Because he smelled like lemons. Because his pointy, slightly crooked teeth and his crinkly little scrunched-up freckle-covered nose had made me fall in love. Because he made me happy.

Because my monster ached for him.

Because he needed me.

Because I needed him .

I never wanted to let him go again.

But first…

First, I was going to kill the man who had taken his attention. I was going to stop this cycle from continuing. I was going to snap his neck and end this game, once and for all. With my secret laid bare for Felix to see, he'd get the choice to keep me, or kill me.

And I'd let him pick.

Because I loved him more than I loved anything, even myself.

Felix's guest had his back to me when I rounded the corner. He was talking, the guest, not Felix. And it was obvious that Felix wasn't really listening.

"I've always been a big fan of your movies," the stranger said, rambling on. His… movies? I glanced at the movie posters that lined the walls, scanning them—my head still fuzzy with rage. "I can't believe I got to actually meet you."

They looked as familiar as they had the first few times I'd seen them, only now…I looked at them with a different lens.

Felix nodded along to his guest's words, but his eyes weren't connected to the conversation. I knew this because I was rather intimately acquainted with any and all Felix expressions, and I could proudly say—despite my usual lack of expertise in human emotion—that I could easily deduce his current emotion. And he looked …huh.

He looked like he was in a hurry .

He did not look excited, or happy, or invested in the conversation at all. Which was good. Because the only person he should be invested in talking to was me, and I stood by that .

He probably felt rushed because he was expecting me to come over soon for our matching-tuxedo-fake-groom social debut.

There was a lump in my throat and a pit in my stomach as I stared at the two of them interacting, even though I could clearly see that Felix was not invested.

"Quiet please," he said softly, voice as melodic and sweet as ever. There was an air of finality to it. Strong despite being buttery smooth. My racing thoughts halted at the same time the asshole-visitor's words did. Simultaneously, something electric flowed through the room. Something heavy . For a moment it was hard to breathe. The stranger shifted, body still as if he'd been frozen.

As if…by simply commanding it, Felix had turned him off entirely. As easily as pressing a button.

You'd think I'd pay more attention to the man who had so obviously been "altered." But I did not. Because I had, and always would have eyes for one man and one man only. And Felix had finally, finally noticed me.

He made a surprised little sound, his lips parting—his…very red, very stained lips. A little smile spread across them as soon as our eyes connected, the flicker of his peculiar, slightly crooked teeth sending butterflies erupting in my stomach where the pit had sat only moments prior.

This was not the look of a man who didn't care for me.

His eyes said, you're here.

They said, I missed you.

They said, I'm lonely, lonely, lonely.

And then guilt scoured his expression, dashing away the light as quickly as it had come. Something wavered then, trembling in the air between us. The weight that had filled the room only growing heavier as we stared at each other, at an impasse.

Felix was about to give me his secrets. I could see it on his face.

They trembled, brittle and ready to topple.

All it would take was a single push.