Lullaby For The Sadist {ManxMan} {Radish Fiction)

Epilogue ~ Part Two

{Epilogue} ~ Part Two

"Holy shit," I breathe. He's getting wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, though not noticeable, just a side effect of getting older.

"Nice to see you too, Isaiah." The sarcasm in his deep voice is clear, but so is the relief. I laugh but it's more a cough. His deep red hair grew so much, it's down to his shoulders, he hasn't gained much muscle as far as I can tell, his bright blue eyes seemed to have a new light in them, but I don't miss the very faded scar on his chest. I can barely see it, with how faded it is, and how much is covered by his blue t-shirt. I don't have to ask-not that I will-to know it came from Celeste during one of his sadistic horny episodes.

"Why are you here?" The shock of seeing Celeste's partner open Andre's door finally sinks in, washing away the general shock at the sight of the changed Dr. Xavier.

"Saves gas if all of us are in the same place, and since our apartment is cramped as it is, six people and two children would be pretty crowded," Killian answers so naturally. As if the mention of two kids isn't shocking. I suppose it isn't, to him, but to me... But who? Andre never wanted kids, nor did Avery given his unpleasant past with his parents. Celeste can't be a father, and he doesn't want to be. I eye Angel curiously, wondering if he adopted two children without mentioning it. No, he's too busy building his career, he wouldn't compromise that by having children, let alone without telling me.

I can't ponder that any longer, I have to know. So I step into the house after Killian steps aside, with Angel following me. Both of them have a weird smile on their face, it's almost creepy. Once the door is closed I can smell artificial vanilla from air fresheners, the house is a cool relief from the heat but it succeeds in making my sweaty shirt freeze on my body. I'm half tempted to take my shirt off, at least I would smell better. Though, if there's really kids in the house I'll spare their parents from trying to explain why my body is so scared. Not to mention I'm less than eager to explain the new scars to Angel.

I hear talking from another room, presumably the living room. So I head there but stop before the entrance and feel Angel's warm hand on my shoulder. I turn to him, fear boiling my blood and causing my breathing to come out a bit faster.

"Maybe I should borrow some clothes, take a shower and shave. I look like shit, I smell like it too," I mutter. Behind Angel I see Killian, and I can tell he's assessing me, which makes me more nervous.

"Breathe, Isaiah. No one is going to care, trust me." It isn't Angel to reassure me this time, it's Killian. Of course he can tell what I'm thinking, it's his job. If he couldn't read me like a book, he would be a poor excuse of a doctor specialized in mental health. That also means he's right, though. He can read everyone in that room, if anyone didn't want to see me, he would know, unless he's lying.

Rather than chicken out and run upstairs for a shower and stolen clothes, I turn on the beige carpet and walk through the open doorway into the living room. This has changed a lot.

A new black leather sectional is set in front of a huge, brand new TV. Another black leather couch is positioned on the other side of the sectional, creating a half-U shape with an opening towards the doorway. And sure enough, everyone is there.

Andre with his short dark hair, dark eyes and dark Hispanic skin, whispering to his blonde haired husband Avery. Celeste is sprawled on the lone couch with a white wife-beater on and a pair of gray shorts with his hand resting on his forehead. He's the first to notice me, and the biggest smile I have ever seen pulls his lips while his eyes glisten.

He doesn't say a word. No, he not-so-gracefully scrambles off the couch and quite literally sprints at me. I try to prepare myself but it doesn't work because he still crashes into me hard enough to almost knock me back. I manage to regain my balance and wrap my arms around him. He smells good, a mix of clean linen and oddly, vanilla. He's gotten a bit smaller, too and I can only wonder why.