Boy Meets Beast

✧ 4 ✧

Since he got here, Ilya has been shot at by a maniac with a rifle, chased by a faceless human, and now Charlie had told him that they will rip him to shreds if they even suspected that he was Russian.

Ilya's eyes wavered under the dim lighting. His legs couldn't carry his weight anymore. He held onto the side of the couch and let out fast panicky breaths.

"Who are they? What's going on?" His voice came out squeaky with fear. "What is this place? Why are they shooting at me?"

Too many questions. Charlie felt sorry for the boy. He raised his palms to calm him down.

"Woah, woah, don't worry, little one." He turned Ilya to the front of the couch. "Here. Take a seat and we can have a chat, shall we?"

Ilya gasped when he was pushed to fall butt-first on that couch, that dirty greenish couch. He was sure that green was not the original color of the couch, but Charlie didn't give him a chance to leave.

Charlie sat at the coffee table in front of the couch. He just sat there for a while, without a sound, curiously staring at Ilya with a smile that was getting bigger with each passing second. He scanned the boy from head to toe but focused more on his facial features. That beautiful innocent face with pink blushing cheeks. Those big emerald-green eyes and that fluffy hair which swept over them whenever the boy looked down.

There was something about this boy that made Charlie glue his eyes on him. He leaned forward to get a closer look and that was when a whiff of the boy's scent was forever stored in his memory.

Ilya was still in shock. He was trying to breathe slower and stay calm, but then he felt the eyes on him.

When Ilya returned Charlie's gaze, the large man snapped out of it and chuckled.

"Sorry about that." He sat up straight. "Oh!" He smacked his head, then faced the boy again. "Where are my manners? Let me help you with some tea, eh?"

Charlie got up, towering over the sitting boy before he headed to the open kitchen by the other end of the room.

"Tea?"

Ilya felt his chest tightening when he remembered the state of the kitchen. If the living room was fucked up beyond all recognition, then that kitchen was poisonous, to say the least. And when Charlie started messing around that kitchen to find the tea set, Ilya's nose caught another awful smell—Rotten meat.

Ilya covered his nose and fought the urge to puke. He dreaded accepting this guy's help.

This isn't right. It's not safe here, Ilya's panicky thoughts filled his mind. This man is crazy.

Charlie turned his head for a moment to smile at Ilya, but the boy felt more terrified than ever. That smile wasn't friendly, it was creepy. That smile looked like the one a serial killer might show in front of his victim moments before eating him.

Ilya carefully left the couch and stood up on two shaky feet.

The dishes clunk and water poured and splashed behind Charlie's giant frame. Ilya couldn't see how dirty the sink was, but the pile of dishes there reached over Charlie's head.

"You'll have to forgive me," Charlie suddenly talked, startling the poor boy. "It's been quite a while since I had visitors."

No shit, Ilya thought, as he found it difficult to imagine anybody living in this junk.

The water started boiling and bubbling on a stove that had blackened with mold.

"I, umm." Ilya clutched his precious backpack and cleared his throat. "I can't stay here. I have to go home."

Charlie approached, holding two teacups. His mouth was open in a frown. Not offended, but sad.

"But... You just got he'e."

"I need to go home. Now!"

When Charlie faced Ilya, the boy took a sudden step back, expecting the big guy to be angry. However, Charlie just handed him the tea and sat back.

Ilya checked the teacup in his hand. It smelled like tea alright, but it looked like toilet water after taking a dump. Ilya scrunched his nose but thanked Charlie, nonetheless.

"Ye can't go out there now," Charlie gently said, following it with a little chuckle. "You'll have to wait until sunset or Pig will send a bullet your way."

Pig? Ilya's eyebrows shot up. So that's what he's called?

Charlie continued, "He's got it in him to take a shot at anyone enjoying a stroll during the day. It's like a hobby to him, really."

Who the fuck shoots people as a hobby? Ilya was both confused and angry. What kind of town is this?

"So, killing people is his hobby?"

Ilya was still standing during their conversation until Charlie laughed and gestured for him to sit down to explain everything.

"Pig doesn't kill people. He just has fun with them."

Bullshit!

"He tried to kill me!" Ilya got all riled up. "He even killed a living breathing man right in front of me."

Even though that moaning man was breathing directly from his exposed bleeding throat, Ilya still considered him alive.

"A living man?" Charlie laughed, slapping his knee as if he heard the funniest joke ever. "Oh, no." Charlie regained his ability to breathe and said:

"What you saw wasn't one of the living."

What's that supposed to mean? 👀

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