21. Chapter 21

21

R ory took a deep breath, then climbed out of the car. He leaned against the side of it, with his eyes fixed on reception. He checked his watch for the fortieth time, then looked back at the door.

He’d spent the past few days in a blur, barely eating, barely sleeping. He knew what was expected of him. He was supposed to phone the hospital, arrange for Erica to be released to him so he could start funeral plans and put her to rest, but he couldn’t do it.

He hoped that once Sebastian was done with him, they’d be buried in the plot beside their father.

The door opened, and Rory straightened. He curled his fingers into his palms hard enough to cut skin when he saw Sebastian.

He stepped out, not wearing his tight white T-shirt, but a shirt and a jacket. A clear plastic bag of his belongings was slung over his shoulder, and as he walked further into the car park, he tilted his head up, looking towards the sky.

Rory saw his lips lift in a slight smile, then he lowered his head, and the smile vanished. He came closer, and Rory couldn’t look at him. He stared at the ground and rolled the loose stone under his foot.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be here,” Sebastian murmured.

“I owe it to you.”

“Look at me.”

Rory forced his head up but couldn’t look Sebastian in the eye.

Sebastian gestured to the car. “Yours?”

“It’s a hire car.”

“Ready to go?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Rory said.

Sebastian snorted. “I’m very ready.” He walked over to the passenger door, then raised his eyebrow at Rory over the roof of the car. “Well?”

Rory climbed inside. He waited until Sebastian had buckled himself in, then directed his question at the steering wheel. “Where do you want me to drive?”

Sebastian hesitated. “Can you… Can you drive through the city?”

“Sure.”

Sebastian flung his bag of belongings into the back.

“I’m really sorry—”

Sebastian raised his finger in the air, then made a shushing sound. “Not here. Not yet.”

Rory swallowed, then nodded. If Sebastian wanted to pretend things were normal between them for a few minutes, Rory wasn’t going to stop him.

“Okay…”

The drive was surreal. He had been expecting Sebastian to growl at him, launch at him, strangle him to death right there and then in the prison car park, but instead he lounged back in the seat and lowered his window.

He stuck his hand out and twitched his fingers as the air rushed by him. From the glimpses Rory kept stealing, he could tell Sebastian was smiling.

Rory drove through the city with no destination in mind. He passed the cinema, the train station, the clubs, the pubs—there was nothing of interest to him, but Sebastian was transfixed. He craned his neck to see the highest buildings and snorted at the names of restaurants.

“It’s amazing what changes,” Sebastian mumbled.

“It’s been sixteen years.”

“The same roads and street names, but everything on them is different. It’s like an alien planet. I mean, what the hell is Oodles?”

Rory frowned. “It’s a sushi chain. Quite popular.”

“And that place?”

Rory glanced at the building and the line outside. “Flip Over?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s a load of trampolines. You go there, and you jump around.” Rory scrunched his face at his explanation. It didn’t do the place justice.

“You’ve been there?”

“Yeah. With my…” Rory trailed off, then shook his head. He couldn’t go there; it hurt too much. “I’ve been there before. A while ago now.”

“What happened to having a trampoline in the back garden? And what the hell is TikTok?”

They’d driven past a bus shelter with a huge poster advertising the social media platform.

“I didn’t feel this old inside,” Sebastian muttered.

“Inside they still use DVD players and overhead projectors.”

Sebastian snorted. He pointed out a virtual reality gaming centre. “What the hell is that?”

“The youths’ version of cards and chess.”

Sebastian laughed and shook his head. He sighed at the window. “I can walk down this street. I can go to these shops. Sixteen years I’ve been in that prison, and now I’m out.”

“It must be a good feeling.”

“Yes, and at the same time, a massive no.”

“Why no?”

“I’ll have to cook my own meals for a start.”

Rory’s lips twitched with another smile. “The food in there was awful.”

“It got better over the years, trust me. When I first went inside, food poisoning was a monthly occurrence.”

“The food improved, but the rat problem got worse?”

Sebastian tipped his head back and laughed. “The rat problem will continue.”

“You passed that scam on to someone else?”

“Einstein.” Sebastian chuckled. “I still can’t believe you were going to open up a dead rat to get maggots for Teddy.”

“It was for Ollie.”

Sebastian snorted. “It’s still disgusting.”

“When you ripped it open, I thought I’d gone mad.”

“You’d gone mad long before I did that.”

Rory peeked a look at Sebastian, and his chest felt all fluttery when he saw his smile reach his eyes. His heart wasn’t supposed to feel like that; it was supposed to have been dead of all feeling, but it ached when he looked at the man beside him.

“You drove me madder with that Vaseline pot…”

“I drove myself mad. You weren’t the only one suffering through that. I couldn’t get you out of my head, and knowing you were doing it above me, and at any moment I could make you hard… Let’s just say it was a massive turn-on.”

“Training my dick like a dog.”

Sebastian hummed. He spread his legs. “One of my most ingenious moments inside.”

Rory glanced at the road sign. “We’re leaving the city. Where do you want me to go now?”

Sebastian sighed. “The sea.”

“The sea?”

“Rashford Pier, remember I told you about it?”

Rory nodded. “I remember. What are we going to do there?”

Sebastian lost his smile. “We’re going to get this over and done with.”

Rory parked up beside the road, then looked out at the sea. It was the same dreary grey colour as the sky, and instead of flawless golden sand, there were pebbles and piles of seaweed. Rory stared at the pier and questioned its stability. He was sure it was rocking as the waves hit it, threatening to come apart.

It had taken over three hours, and neither of them had spoken. Sebastian had flicked through the radio stations, tutting and shaking his head until he found one that played eighties music.

“Nothing beats England’s murky-looking sea,” Sebastian murmured.

Rory snorted. “It won’t sell any holidays looking like that.”

Sebastian reached into the back for his belongings. He emptied everything on the backseat, rooted through until he found what he’d been looking for. Rory side-eyed Sebastian and watched him put on his gloves. Somehow being strangled with gloves, rather than without, made it seem colder, clinical, heartless. He would’ve liked the warmth of Sebastian’s hands on his skin one last time, even if he was killing him.

Sebastian pulled the clear plastic bag into the front, folded it up on his lap, then shoved it in his pocket. “Come on.”

Rory took a deep breath, then got out of the car. The bitter sea air blasted his face, and he shivered, wishing he’d worn more layers.

“This way,” Sebastian mumbled. “Do you know the time?”

Rory checked his watch. “It’s 11:45.”

There was only a narrow strip of pebbles and seaweed—the tide was in—and Sebastian headed towards the pier. Rory stared down at the ground as he followed and only looked up when Sebastian clapped and laughed.

“Well, the arcade’s looking a sorry state, but the chip shop’s still there…and it’s open.”

Rory hesitated before he followed. Sebastian held open the door, and Rory ducked under his arm, then glanced up at the server. She would be the last person to see him alive other than Sebastian, and she beamed at them.

“Want something?” Sebastian asked.

“No, thanks.”

Rory knew he wouldn’t be able to keep anything down, and he didn’t want the last thing he tasted to be vomit at the back of his throat.

“Suit yourself.”

Sebastian strode forward and ordered a large bag of chips. Any other time, Rory would’ve thought they smelled good, but the vinegar twang made him grimace.

Sebastian tried to pay, but the woman shook her head, said the shop didn’t accept the notes he was holding. He turned back to Rory and raised his eyebrow.

“Oh, they don’t take those anymore. That’s an old five-pound note.”

“It’s the money I had in my pocket the day I was sentenced.”

Rory flipped open his wallet and handed Sebastian a new five-pound note.

He frowned, rubbing it between his fingers. “It feels horrible.”

“It’s a bit odd at first.”

“Just fives?”

“Tens too.”

“Never thought money would change.”

Sebastian hummed, then turned back to the woman. Rory snorted at his feet. He was buying lunch for the man about to kill him.

Sebastian popped a chip in his mouth, then groaned. “That taste,” he said. “That’s exactly how I remember it.”

The doorbell rang when they left, and Sebastian walked down the stone steps to get to the beach. “What time is it now?”

“12:00.”

Sebastian nodded, then gestured for Rory to come to him. “Let’s take a walk.”

Rory’s steps faltered. “A walk?”

“Yeah. Come on.”

Rory joined him, and they strolled side by side along the beach. The pebbles crunched and slipped underfoot, and Rory looked at them more than the swirling sea. Sebastian offered him a chip, but he shook his head and studied his feet so he wouldn’t trip.

“Sebastian…I—”

“Not yet, Rory. Not yet.”

Rory pressed his lips together, catching his words. The wait was torture, but he imagined it was intentional. Sebastian wanted Rory to suffer, to fill him with so much tension and fear he wouldn’t fight or run when the moment came. Rory wanted to tell him it wasn’t necessary; he had fully accepted what was about to happen and had left a letter at home with instructions for Erica and himself.

That’s if anyone found his body.

The waves battered the nearby cliffs.

He doubted a body would be able to stay intact under that relentless beating, but at least Erica and their father could be reunited. He looked up at the grey sky. His family were waiting for him.

“Can we stop here…” Rory asked.

Sebastian pointed his chip ahead. “Not yet.”

“I can’t take it anymore.” Rory bit his lip. “Just do it.”

Sebastian sighed. “Over there—”

“Please,” Rory said, stepping closer. He smacked the chip from Sebastian’s fingers, then grabbed his hand and held it to his throat. “Go on.”

Sebastian glared, but the look wasn’t intimidating, or like ice; it was full of confusion. Rory closed his eyes and pushed Sebastian’s hand into his throat. He held it to him with both of his hands, trying to force Sebastian’s fingers to curl around him.

“Do it,” he begged. “Please, Sebastian.”

He jumped when he heard a dull thump on the pebbles. Sebastian had dropped the chips. Seagulls screeched above them. One crash down to the pebbles on his right.

“I can’t wait any more, I can’t have this dragged out. Do it.”

“Do what?” Sebastian asked softly.

“End this.”

Sebastian held Rory’s throat, and he tilted his head back, exposing it, giving Sebastian more space to work with and get a better grip. He knew it would hurt. He might even panic and try to stop it from happening, claw at Sebastian’s hand, but in the end, he’d get weaker, he’d accept the inevitable and let go.

He wanted to let go.

Sebastian didn’t apply any pressure.

He didn’t squeeze or suddenly clutch with force.

He didn’t do anything, and it made Rory’s heart pound and his head spin. The wind whistled, salt from the sea covered his lips, and he could smell the closest pile of seaweed along with the chips resting by his feet.

Rory waited for Sebastian to take it all from him.

He nodded, pleading with the twitch of his brow and the wobbling of his bottom lip.

He wanted Sebastian to do it.

He needed him to.

“Oh, Rory,” Sebastian exhaled. “I’m sorry.”