what do we do now? [muke af]

twenty two

twenty two

A blindfold is taken off Michael's face and he flinches at the sudden bright light. His eyes are hazy and his head is sore. There is blood dripping from his scalp and he doesn't remember where it's from.

He looks at the old basement, many eyes staring at him. He knows he's looking straight at his death.

"What?" He spat. He stretched out his wrists, not surprised to find out they were tied back. He cracks his neck from side to side as Ashton comes out from behind him, a laugh falling from his lips.

"Such a little bitch," he swore, his hand reaching out to leave an ugly red mark on the side of Michael's face.

His eyes scan the room, looking at men he barely knew.

Ashton brought one man forward, his lanky body looking too frail to do any damage. Ash put his hand around the man's shoulder, looking straight at Michael. "This is Dan, your boy toy's therapist."

"Oh, hey. I fucking hate you." Michael accepted his fate, and figured it was time to go out with a bang, literally.

Ashton rolled his eyes, unimpressed with Mike's lack of fear. "Did you know he works for us? All the little secrets your twink told him, we know." Ash turned around, picking up a thick black binder. "Do you wanna read some of it?"

The binder was thrown on Michael's lap, Ashton flipping over a page so Michael could see for himself. Michael hit Luke, the notes read, Luke confessed he wasn't in love anymore.

Michael held his breath and clenched his jaw. "I don't want to see this."

Ashton pushed Dan back, letting him fall to the couch as he walked around Michael. His large hands rested on Mike's shoulders, his fingers digging into his skin. "I told you not to tell him anything."

"I didn't."

Ashton reached over Michael, turned to the back of the binder. Luke has suspicions of Michael in the gang again. He pressed his finger harshly to the single sentence until the tips of his index finger turned a ghost white. "I beg to differ." Ashton pushed off the binder, circling the chair Michael was in until he leant in front of the man.

"It's a suspicion, he's a smart boy."

Ashton glared down at Michael, his golden eyes darkening to a brown.

"He thought you were his best friend all this time," Michael said, his eyebrows furrowed with anger, "He fucking trusted you." Mike kicked out his leg, harshly kicking Ashton right between the legs, right in the spot that made him cower in pain. "And you!" Mike looked at the therapist sitting in the corner with wide eyes, "He trusted you more! It was your job to stay quiet!"

Ashton held his member, crouching over and waiting for the pain to ease. "Tie him," he muffled out, his voice an octave deeper. "You fucking morons can't do your job."

Michael didn't resist, he let two bigger men tie his ankles up. "I can't come up with a strong enough word to describe how much you disgust me," Mike told Ashton. He watched the man on the ground try to gather his breath. "You have a husband and child at home, but here you are. Here you are, sending prostitutes to your room and men to their death. I'm not afraid of dying, Ashton, you're not scaring me."

Ashton stood up, reaching behind him to pull out his lucky pistol. He swung it around his index finger a few times before holding it steady, cocking it back. "You put in names of people who worked for you, for us, just to make your sentence shorter. I don't think I'm the only disgusting one here."

Michael shrugged his shoulder. "I should've put in yours. Your little husband would have left your sorry ass, you deserve worse."

"Say it again."

"You deserve worse, Ashton." Michael looked up at him, a smile upon his lips. Ashton swallowed a lump in his throat. He aimed the pistol for the middle of Michael's head once more, his finger twitching to fire.

It was his friend. It was his enemy.

"You're so stupid," Ashton said. "You don't understand. We are your everything. We're your therapist, your grocery bagger, your taxi cab. We're your ambulance driver, your school teacher, your neighbor. We are your everything."

"Promise you'll leave Luke and Tab alone after this. No more stalking, no more tapping. Leave them alone, let them live without me."

Ashton nodded, he breathed in, then out. He tried to imagine sending the bullet through his friend's head, he tried to, but something in him held him back.

"Come on, Bitch. Kill me." Michael looked inside the barrel, he could see his future.

"Stop it!" Ashton yelled, he didn't like it that easy. He wanted them begging for mercy.

He could feel a tear in his eyes, and he has never once cried.

"Do it, fucking bastard. Fucking kill me!" Michael shouted at him, the veins in his neck popping. "Don't be such a pussy, do it!"

Ashton's breathing picked up and he couldn't steady his hand. His lip quivered and he aimed once more.

"Ashton! Go!"

And he did. With a single bullet, Michael was gone from his misery.