Trust Me | MxM | BDSM

38. Date

I have tried my best to make our last two days count, to turn them into the most perfect, precious memory that I have so I can come back to them after he's gone.

Our fingers don't really fit together, yet not holding his hand is out of the question when he helps me out of the car and leads the way into the theatre. He's gorgeous in the suits he's always wearing, but casual clothes make him look so much more real - and show off his sculpted body so much better.

I lean against him from the side, awkwardly resting my head on his shoulder that bumps up and down in the rhythm of his steps. He turns his face enough so his lips can reach my forehead for a kiss. We're getting way too much attention from all the passers-by, but honestly, I'm not going to let any insult-whispering asshole ruin my last moments.

I've been on the verge of tears a couple times since that night, but I managed to hold it together fine enough. Gavrilo had wanted to do more of that vanilla sex thing that he doesn't do, but I convinced him that that wasn't what we both needed. He'd been rough to me afterwards, and the marks are still visible all over my body, except my face. I lost myself to him.

When we step in line behind the five or six people already waiting to buy their tickets, Gavrilo lets go of my hand to slip his arm around my waist. He smiles down at me. "I honestly don't remember the last time I went to the movies."

"Me neither," I tell him with a smile of my own that takes way too little effort considering what I'm about to do to him.

"But it's a really date-y thing so-" I stretch the o before breaking off with a shrug, causing Gavrilo to chuckle and place another kiss onto my head. He just loves to do that.

"Whatever makes you happy, love," he whispers gently. My chest warms as my heart flutters, though at the same time, tears prick my eyes, and I feel sick.

"You make me happy," I admit quietly, then kiss him. My stomach calms; his lips feel incredible. He breaks the kiss too soon, though, and we buy our tickets. Five in total because of course, there are three bodyguards dressed in casual wear sticking to us.

Inside, I excuse myself to go to the toilet. His presence is all I long for, yet it's suffocating. Whenever I look into his now familiar green eyes, he's looking back at me with so much love and compassion and trust that I'm drowning in guilt.

Despite my conscience screaming at me to fake sickness and get Gavrilo out of here, I go to the stall at the far end of the room; if there's a message, it's in there. My hands are shaking when I push the door open, and the colours around me seem a bit dim. I lock myself in, take a deep breath, then fumble at the bin until the trash back comes loose and I can reach beneath it.

I squeeze my eyes shut when I feel the familiar texture of a folded paper, and stay like this for the span of three breaths. This will all be over soon.

'Don't forget to buy some snacks.'

"Yeah, whatever," I mutter and crush the damn message before throwing it into the toilet and flushing it down. There was a code for anaesthetics on it so apparently, someone's just lying in wait to drag him off.

It'll be over soon. Soon.

I rub my forehead, attempting to chase away the tension before I go back to Gavrilo. He's already holding out a bag of popcorn for me, and there's a ginormous cup of theatre brand coke on the stuck beneath his other arm.

Soon, I think and smile at him, taking the popcorn. I pop one into my mouth, then hold another to his lips, but he shakes his head.

"No, thanks."