Stories I Never Finished

More Than (Cashton + Cake)

ONE

Staring at his distorted figure in the stainless steel reflection of the elevator doors, Calum Hood stood in the centre of the elevator waiting for it to stop. He took a moment to adjust the black tie around his neck he had settled over the top of his white button up shirt.

The doors dinged, the neon light above them reading Level 5 as he stepped out; taking his ID from his pocket and flashing a glimpse of it to the armed security man standing in the hall guarding the elevator.

The man simply nodded, allowing the twenty four year old brunet to continue forward.
The hallways were bleak, concrete walls and floors gleaming a dull grey, contrasting only with the rusting white paint on the metal bars locked in front of heavy iron doors.

His fingers adjusted slightly from where his right hand clutched a briefcase by his side, his breath tight in his chest as his black dress pant covered legs and black shoes brought him closer to his next challenge.

His footsteps echoed in the silence, eyes of security following him whilst the odd prisoner screamed for him to save them; bloodied knuckles bashing concrete walls and broken nails tearing down to the flesh as they clawed across any surface they could.

He came to the end of the long corridor, his blank expression remaining stoic on his face as he was greeted with a slightly shorter, older, male waiting for him.
The final door waited behind two heavily armed women, ready to open for Calum to step into the interrogation style space.

"He's already inside waiting." Dr Chapman's greeting smile and outstretched hand both faltered when Calum barely acknowledged him.

Chapman cleared his throat and gestured for the women to open the bolted door; merely a faculty formality rather than put in place for specific patients.

"Take as long as you need." Chapman said. "Would you like coffee brought to you?"

Calum stood directly in front of the door, waiting with a brief thought before giving a slight nod.

"Black, two sugars." He looked to the greying man out of etiquette as he gave his "thank you" reply.

Stepping into the blank room, there was no one way mirror for people to look in and only a singular large grey table and two chairs sitting opposite sides. A simple press of the buzzer button by the door would have the armed guards opening it in seconds.
The door was bolted up behind him, his eyes falling to the young male sitting across the other side waiting for him.

Wrists cuffed to a loop in the surface of the table and ankles shackled to the concrete sealed legs of the chair, Luke Hemmings truly didn't seem like much of a threat at first glance.
His papers described him as a manic and psychotic man, so protocol kept him locked up like the criminal he was; dressed in grey and trapped within locked halls.

His dirty blond hair was cut short, a golden glow dimmed by the weak lighting above. Blue eyes that had once sparkled with young life now barely sparkled at all, and pink lips that often created beautifully deadly smirks hid vicious growls that could stain his porcelain skin.

Calum sat himself down in the remaining chair, placing his briefcase on the table only to pull out a small navy blue office laptop and a slim folder containing Luke's asylum papers.
He pushed the briefcase to the floor, set his computer diagonally to his left so he could still see Luke clearly across from him, and picked up his blue pen.

Luke yawned, metal chains clanging together as he lifted a shackled hand to cover his mouth while doing so.

"Tired, are we?" Calum's voice wasn't harsh but it wasn't soft either. A professionalism that held his stature high in most situations.