The Corruption of Colt Jackson Ch. 06

Saturday is uneventful. Colt spends the day holed up at home. He watches some TV. He gets his violin out of its case and he plays for a long while, missing the feel of it, the sound of it, the way playing it brings out the best version of himself.

There had been a time, years ago, when Colt had found such solace in the beauty of this instrument. Music was something he was good at. While everything else in his world had sucked beyond the telling of it, this, the relationship between himself and his violin, was beautiful. It was something his father had never been able to bruise and fracture. Hearing him play was the only time his mother ever looked like she was proud of him.

It isn't too far of a stretch to say that music saved his life, that it changed his life. But then that's the power of music, isn't it? Music can move mountains.

Other stringed instruments came later for him, but the violin came first. The violin is like coming home, it's a reset.

He plays well into the evening until the sun is going down, losing track of time and not caring about anything else.

Saturday comes and goes.

Sunday morning he goes to church as he always does. He's there but he doesn't really listen today. He thinks that sometimes just showing up has to be good enough for God. It's all he has to give the Almighty right now.

He works in the front and back yards of his house the rest of Sunday, pulling weeds and mowing the lawn. It feels good to do normal things.

Alone.

It feels good to be alone.

It takes him a full week to start feeling more like himself again, to quit thinking about Marc every two seconds, to quit looking at the bottles of alcohol and wanting to taste them, to quit feeling so outside of and unlike himself that he's unrecognizable.

He almost calls or texts Marc several times that week. In the end he makes himself leave it alone.

His little league team loses the semi finals the next weekend. They go out for celebratory ice cream anyway. Colt gives them all their end of season trophies and hugs them all goodbye. He chats with their parents and tells them he hopes to see their kiddos next season.

The next Saturday, now with not much to do and his mind mostly back where it should be, Colt takes stock. He wonders where his crappy table and chairs went. He wonders where his fridge that had been on its last leg went. His old TV was fine. He didn't need a newer, bigger TV. He wonders what made Marc think it was okay to change all this stuff in his house without asking him.

A knock at the door startles him and when he answers it, a cheery woman is handing him a bouquet of black roses in an opaque red glass vase. Colt thanks her and takes them inside to set them on the new table.

Where does someone even find black roses?

The attached note reads: Busy working for a few more days. Thinking about you, Vanilla. - Marc

Everywhere Colt looks, there's a reminder of Marc. Colt decides that he needs to get out for awhile.

He goes out to his bike and heads to a bar for some nameless, faceless company. There's a live band playing tonight and while they're newer than his band, he's heard of them and is happy to listen and enjoy their music.

He's standing there, water in hand, enjoying the performance when he feels a hand on his arm. He turns to see one of the girls that's usually at Drunk Wizards performances. She's a fan. She follows them around from bar to bar and gig to gig so she's easily recognizable.

Colt puts on a big smile for her and they hug and say their hello's while he's trying to remember her name.

"It's Dana, right?" He asks.

"Close! It's Deanna."

"Ahhh almost." He gestures to the band on stage. "Not bad, huh?"

"Well they're no Drunk Wizards." Deanna says. "Wanna dance?"

"Yeah, let's dance."

It feels good to dance. Colt had never enjoyed dancing until recently when he hit that age that he quit caring whether he looks stupid or not and just allows himself to have fun. He and Deanna dance several songs together, maybe three or four, and then she leans up and kisses him.

Colt looks at her, surprised, and then he kisses her too. He's had relationships with women before and this feels natural and easy and right.

Except... not completely right.

Colt pulls back and shakes his head. "I'm sorry."

"Oh no. Was it bad?" Deanna asks. "I thought it was great."

"No, no it's... that was a great kiss and you're very attractive. It's just that..."

"You're seeing someone."

Colt pauses. Is he seeing someone? "Kind of."

"That's okay! I should have asked. And of course you're seeing someone. You're hot. She's lucky, whoever she is."

He's relieved that she seems to be handling it okay. He messed up. He shouldn't have kissed her back. Colt has never been the kind of guy to be with more than one person at a time and he has no idea if he's even really 'with' Marc. "Thanks. You're hot too. Things are just... complicated right now."

"Complicated is kind of my M.O. when it comes to men." Deanna jokes. "I totally get it as a relationship status."

Colt isn't sure that anyone could 'get' the mess that is himself and Marc Fiarri. He laughs at the joke anyway and they fall into companionable conversation and enjoy the rest of the night together.

**

Every day the following week a black rose is delivered to his house, to the library, sitting on the seat of his bike when it's parked somewhere. Every day Colt brings them inside and adds them to the bouquet, replacing wilted flowers with the new ones. He can't help but think that they look strange and beautiful and wrong at the same time.

Black roses. Who came up with that idea?

By the end of the week the black roses have grown on him. He admires them every day when he passes by the table.

It's been three weeks since Colt has seen Marc. It doesn't feel like the other man has been absent from his life though. Between the new additions to his home and the roses, Colt feels Marc's presence as surely as if he were just at work at the garage or for his uncle and would make an appearance later in the evening.

On the way home from work one day, his bike made a strange noise. He's glad to have made it home, but Colt is in his drive working on his bike when he hears the increasingly familiar roar of the engine of Marc's car slow to a stop in front of his house.

Colt pushes himself up from the concrete and stands, watching Marc exit his car and wondering what bruises he'll find on him this time. The bruises really affect him more than he cares to admit. The bruises tilt his world on its axis, putting him partly in the present and partly in the past. He wishes the past would stay in the past.

Nerves roil in his stomach at the sight of Marc. Things just recently leveled back out for him. He has a feeling that Marc will stir things back up. On the other hand, there's a part of him that's undeniably, irrefutably glad to see him. Seeing Marc stirs up memories of the library and their last and only night together in his bed.

There are no bruises this time, not that he can see right away. There's a bandage on Marc's neck that Colt's eyes are drawn to as the other man approaches.

"Aw look at you, Vanilla. Worried about me. I'm fine." Marc reaches him and puts a hand on Colt's waist, leaning in to brush their lips together.

Colt leans back and looks around at his neighbors houses. What if someone sees? He's not ready for someone to see... whatever this is with Marc.

"What happened?" He asks.

Marc seems unaffected by Colt's pulling away from him. "Knife got a little too close for comfort. Takes a lot more to kill a Fiarri though. We're tough."

Colt wants to scream that Marc shouldn't be in a position to be killed anyway. The words get lodged in his throat. He remembers losing so many words to his parents this way, overthinking them and worrying over them to the point that he just remains silent.

"Something wrong with your bike?" Marc asks.

"Yeah, engine was making a gurgling sound. Thought I'd tighten things up and see if that fixes it."

"I'll look at it."

Colt almost tells Marc no, but then decides it might be good for Marc to do the work he knows how to do. Colt can applaud him for it and maybe start trying to steer him away from the more dangerous stuff his uncle is having him do. Colt has never thought of himself as a manipulative person before, but right now this is what he feels he needs to do.

"You get the flowers?"

"Yeah, thanks. That was sweet." He had to explain them away when he got the single roses at work, but the thought was still sweet. "I don't think anyone's ever got me flowers before."

"Another first. I'm racking them up, slowly but surely." Marc grins and Colt's heart skips a beat at the lopsidedness of it.

"Hey. The new stuff in the house. I didn't need it. I mean, you didn't have to..."

"I know. I wanted to. And there's more where that came from. I got a huge pay day for this last job."

Colt shakes his head. "Marc, you don't have to spend your money on me. I don't need-"

Marc grabs Colt's hand, quickly and tightly. "I want to." When Colt tries to pull his hand away, Marc holds on tighter. "Let me."

Colt watches Marc in quiet for a moment and then nods, words caught in his throat again.

Marc lets go of his hand and whatever tension was in the moment eases into something familiar and teasing, playful even. "I'll look at your bike for you. Maybe you get us some dinner going... and don't burn it this time."

As he goes inside, Colt can still feel how tightly Marc had held onto his hand.

Dinner is cooked without burning a single thing. Colt made them chicken srir-fry, one of his favorite recipes he's learned since leaving home. He actually likes cooking. He likes it for the simple fact that he can do it. He has money for groceries and can make all kinds of things that he never had when he was a kid. He was raised on spaghettio's and whatever the cheapest canned or microwaved meal was that week. Sometimes there was no food at all.

He's pleased when Marc seems surprised that he can cook without burning anything. He listens to Marc explain the tune ups he'd performed on his bike. Marc says he'll order a new part that looks like it's the issue but it should be fine until the part gets in.

When Colt offers to pay for it Marc won't even entertain the idea. Colt lets it go for now.

"So what kind of work were you doin'?" Colt asks curiously. They're out in the back yard, throwing a ball for Emmitt.

"Details aren't important." Marc says. "I'm back now and fuck did I miss you. I thought about you the whole time. You worry about me getting beat up while I'm gone. I worry about you too."

"There's nothin' to worry about with me. I'm not gettin' into fights."

"Shit could happen to you when I'm gone. I don't like thinking about it, but I do. It goes round and round in my head and I can't quit thinking about it."

Colt isn't sure that he's ever had anyone worry over him. His parents didn't. His friends from the band might if they were given an obvious reason for it. The library co-workers would only worry if he didn't show up for a few days. Marc sounds as if he actually worries about him and that makes Colt feel warm and good.

"Hey." Colt reaches out to touch Marc's arm. "Thanks for worrying about me, but I'm fine. Most days I go from the library to here and that's it."

"Do you wanna work at the library?"

Colt shrugs, letting his hand drop at the change of topic. He picks up the ball and throws it again. Emmitt runs after it. "It's a job. If I have to have a job, I like one where I'm surrounded by books and I can read in the downtime."

"What would you do if you could be doing anything?"

After some consideration, Colt decides it won't hurt to talk about things that will never be. Everyone wishes things just for the fun of wishing, knowing that they may never happen. "I used to wanna be a music teacher, like the teacher that introduced me to music. I used to wanna do that."

"What happened?"

"You have to have money to go to college. I had only a little bit of money and I chose to use what little I had on getting away from where I was. Money after that was spent on building this life." Colt says. "What about you? If you could be doing anything you wanted, what would you do?"

"You." Marc grins and picks up Emmitt's ball to throw it.

Colt smirks. "Seriously."

"I'd be my uncle. He has all the power, all the money, gets everything he wants. I wanna live like that. I wanna be top dog and nobody dare question me... even my dad. He's always questioning me. I hate that. He doesn't get that I learned half the shit I do from watching him." Marc shakes his head. "Don't get me wrong. I know he loves me. He wants better for me. But this is what Fiarri's do. There's nothing else."

"You mean you're stuck working for your uncle."

"I like working for him. He's straight forward, no bullshit. I think he's preparing me to advance in the ranks too." Marc turns to Colt and takes one of his hands again. "If I get to be even close to the badass he is, that's good for you too. I'll take care of you and you won't want for anything. I'll use my power to give you anything you want."

The passion in which Marc says these things surprises Colt. He remembers the kiss with Deanna and the following awkwardness where he couldn't figure out where he stood with Marc. "Marc, what is this? Us. What's happening here?"

"We're together, Vanilla. I'm yours. You're mine." Marc says. "What more do you need to know?"

"You're not seeing other people?"

Marc shakes his head. "There was never anybody else the second I saw you. There's no one else for you either. Trust me. You won't find better than me."

A part of Colt resents that Marc would just assume. He tries to make a joke out of it. "Oh you think so, huh?"

Marc's other hand grabs Colt's chin, making sure that they're looking at each other. Colt is surprised to find that dangerous look in Marc's eyes, the same look when Marc had learned that someone in Colt's past had beat on him. "I know so. And if someone tried, I'd kill them."

Colt holds his breath at those words. The promise of them magnifies that in-between place that Marc sometimes puts him in. The past and the present collide until Colt just wants to agree and back off to keep the peace.

The moment spreads out between them until Marc turns off his dangerous edge like a light switch. That lopsided grin is back and his grip on Colt's chin turns into a gentle caress along his jawline.

"We're together, you and me." Marc says, his hand sliding around to cup the back of Colt's neck. "You're mine, Colt."

Marc's brow is resting against his, waiting for Colt. The back of his neck is squeezed several times before Colt responds with a nod. "We're together."