Solitary

Five

Chester's wrists were pinned on the cold lockers behind him. His bare back was a bit stung by the frigid metal, but his lips were experiencing a much warmer touch provided by the blonde boy's.

Their clothes were on the ground; not a single thread of fabric clothed them. Their skins were touching. Their steamy session was barely nearing its end.

Sitting on the boy's lap, Chester cupped his face and looked into his glimmering emerald eyes. "Are you sure we're gonna do it?"

The boy sighed, rolled his eyes, then chuckled incredulously. "Oh, sweet, little Mr. Henderson. We've been doing this for what... almost a month, I guess? And every time, you're still asking the same question? 'Are you sure?'" He shook his head. "Am I sure? Hell yes I am."

Chester moved his hands down to the boy's broad shoulders and tapped on it with his fingers. Anxiety took the best of him. "What if... What if Maddie finds out? Or... or Betty finds out? Or even worse, our parents?"

"Hey, hey, Chester," he replied, gripping firmly on Chester's waist, "it'll be alright. It has been going for a month, hasn't it?"

Chester nodded.

"Now, now..." His fingers slowly traced Chester's waist up to his chest. He drew lines with his fingertip and circled Chester's areolas. "Don't fret anymore. It'll just make our time pass quickly and meaninglessly. Just enjoy my magic, won't you?"

The two boys rose to their feet. Chester was again pressed against the lockers, but not for long. He was flipped over, and the blonde started humping him.

"You're so good," Chester moaned. "Keep it up, Brad."

Just then, they heard the large metal doors of the indoor basketball court slam. It quickly caught their attention, because as far as they had known, they were alone at school. They were the two last people to stay back.

"Someone's here," Chester said with a worried tone. "We'll get caught."

He tried to wriggle out of his position and put his clothes back on, but Brad avoided him to do so. Instead, he stepped forward, their faces merely an inch away. "It's just the janitor locking the locker rooms, as usual."

"I thought-"

Without any more hesitation, Brad resumed their session, silencing Chester.

Little did he know, Chester thought right. The janitor didn't come that day.

***

Chester and Elizabeth lead themselves into a lobby-like area. The ceiling and roof above them bear several holes, letting dimmed moonlight and rainstorm pour into the wooden cabin.

"Let me go!" The voice allegedly assumed as Brad's yells again. They follow it into a hall, separate from the one before. The voice seems to fade out behind a metal door similar to the ones in their previous prisons.

Chester steps back quite a distance from the door. "Stay back," he says to Elizabeth. "Don't stand behind the door!" He charges at the door only to ram into the metal door with his upper arm. The impact sends a painful throbbing up his shoulders and left arm. "Shit!" he yells.

"Please, please let me out of here!" Brad hollers from behind the door. His cries are muffled and indistinct. It sounds very far away.

Elizabeth is quick to fire back. "We're trying here!"

Chester attempts prying at the door handle, which as expected doesn't work. Elizabeth lunges her feet at the door uncontrollably, her feet beginning to sting after a few moments.

"What should we do now?" Elizabeth asks, her feet throbbing and her chest heaving. "We can't just leave him here, can't we?"

Chester pants. "No," he sharply asserts. "We can't just leave him here. He's our friend for heaven's sake."

They both sit on the floor, backs against the wall that separates them from Brad. Elizabeth buries her face under her palms. Chester runs his fingers through his unkempt hair. They feel frazzled; their bodies are wearying.

The girl lays her fingers on the sides of her forehead, pushing it back along the sides of her head. She feels a thin piece of metal in her hair. A brilliant idea strikes her. "Can you pick locks?" she asks Chester.

Chester returns to her the same hopeful expression. She pulls the bobby pin off her hair, letting the then tucked strands fall out. She hands it to him. He swiftly scrambles on his feet and briskly inserts the end of the pin into the keyhole. With a few twists and turns, the lock clicks and the door opens.

The two barge into the room and discover an empty room. Brad isn't there anymore. They immediately scan the whole room for any holes from where Brad could escape. Of course, they find none.

"Brad!" they both call. "It's us!" Dreadful silence follows. No answer.

"Where the hell did he go?" Chester deeply exhales.

Elizabeth notices a small backpack sharing resemblance to the ones in both her and Chester's rooms. She picks it up to find that the bottom of the bag drips down dark-colored droplets. Is this... blood?

Chester approach her. "What is that?" He shines the flashlight from his phone at it. "Is that blood?" He then flashes the light at the floor below, revealing a pool of blood out of the dark. It originates from a leak on the ceiling, which is why there are streams of scarlet on the wall. "Try to open it," he says to her.

She sets the backpack down and pries it open. Inside are another cryptic message and a phone. There are also several pieces of clothing. There is also a drawing of a viper on a blue-colored paper, in the same style as the pig and peacock Chester and Elizabeth received. The phone is certainly Brad's, and a sticky note is left on it. She reads the message first. "'Keep your faggot ass and dick to yourself.' That is borderline, batshitted evil and insulting."

Chester picks Brad's phone up and reads the note left pasted on the screen. "'You're too late.'" Chester is stricken; negative thoughts cloud his mind. "He's dead. He must be. And this is his blood." He starts pacing around in circles. He keeps on gripping his hair. "He's dead now, and all of this is my fault."

Elizabeth tries to calm him. She walks up to him. "This isn't your fault." She gently touches his arm, but he waves it off quickly. "This isn't your-"

"Then whose is it?" he snaps back. "This is all my fault! I—"

"Listen!" Elizabeth barks. "This isn't your fault! The only one to blame is whoever did this horrid, diabolical act. You yourself ended up in the same place he ended up in."

Chester begins sobbing. "But I didn't end up dead." He sits down and props himself up against the wall. He puts his elbows on his knees and buries his face under his arms.

Sitting down beside him, Elizabeth pats his bare shoulder. They are covered in goosebumps, as the rest of his uncovered skin, left open to the stale and frigid air. "We don't surely know if he's dead. He may still be alive, waiting for his only hope. We can still find him, but we can't if we stay lamenting here." She then remembers that the backpack carries some clothes in it. "Don't you want to wear the clothes in the backpack? You seem cold."

Chester stands up and tried on the cut-off shirt and the pair of shorts in it, both of which have barely dried blood stains. He rather reluctantly wears the clothes, sized a number smaller than his usual. They are tight, but it is better than a naked body.

Just then, something—someone—bursts through the walls opposite where the two are standing. Blond, athletic-looking, half-unconscious. Both of them exchange a concerned look before approaching the body. It is definitely Brad's.

Chester feels Brad's chest and sticks his ear on it to check for heartbeat while Elizabeth presses down on his wrist to find pulse. Both Chester's and Elizabeth's hearts are pounding erratically. Perspiration wets their faces as they expectantly stare at the unmoving body.

As if dramatically, Brad's eyelids suddenly open and he sharply inhales, shifting into a sitting position.

He is still alive, after all.