The Mind of a Hero

Chapter Four: The Blueprint

"So, your first murder", Davey started, tapping the tip of his pencil with the eraser hanging off of it, against the paper rhythmically. "Irving, your ex-boyfriend. How'd that happen?"

Elmer hummed, setting down the glass of water he'd asked for and spilling droplets onto the table. The water glistened in the bright light of the room, blinding. "We met him again at an illegal racing circuit."

"Really? What's the name of the circuit?"

"Nice try."

Jack chuckled, scratching his index finger. He turned to Davey. "He can't tell anyone what he was doing at a racing circuit, Davey. He's sworn to secrecy."

"How would you know that?" Elmer sipped his glass of water while staring at Jack, who's eyes were wider than saucers, and Elmer could see the moment his mouth dried. There was something only the both of them knew; an unfond past memory of Jack's that Elmer wouldn't be upset at making reality.

Davey cleared his throat. "So, why'd he take you to the circuit?"

"He wanted to show me his life", Elmer shrugged, tracing the rim of his glass gently with his finger. "It was how he made money."

Elmer blinked through the flashing lights of blue, red, and green, and winced at the revving engines of nearby cars. A some of two hundred people stood around him, speaking to each other so casually, as if they weren't afraid of being caught, dressed in outfits no one would wear anywhere else—men dressed like douchebags and women dressed in hardly anything at all, sometimes reversed. Then again, here he was under as a plus one, dressed in clothes he would've never thought about looking at.

"I was wearing a mesh shirt", Elmer remembered, looking at the top of his head. "And tight black jeans. I saw everyone looking at me, but I wasn't worried about them. I was dressed like I wanted attention anyway, and I got it."

He pulled at the mesh shirt, messing with the small holes. The cool night nipped at his chest and he shivered, realizing a jacket would've been a smart investment to make while he and his boyfriend shopped for something to wear.

"Stop here", he heard Albert mutter, and he'd stopped walking, watching as the redhead walked under a tent standing on four metal legs. There were men with him, giving attention to a motorcycle Elmer was sure cost more than his life. They didn't seem to take any interest in him, a stark contrast from every guest within the circuit.

"Here", Albert breathed, wrapping a racing jacket around Elmer's shoulders. He grinned at him. "I know you're cold. You keep it safe for me, alright?"

"What happened to the coat?"

Elmer blinked, resuming reality. "Is that relevant?"

"Vital."

He rolled his eyes. "It was taken with the rest of my possessions", Elmer shrugged, tears brimming his eyes. "I, um...I'm sure they burned it with the rest of everything I owned."

Davey felt pain strike him. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay", Elmer whispered, rimming his glass. "I haven't seen it since I was admitted to the psych ward. I don't think about it much."

Hell would freeze over before he believed that. Albert's coat meant everything to him. He'd where it when he was happy, sad, feverish—missing him, and he missed him every damn day.

He remembered how it smelt of cigarettes and cheap cologne, and was lined with less than warming material. It was black with red accents throughout the jacket, resembling the racing circuit. Elmer ran his fingers against it, chuckling lightly. He felt warm. "Thank you."