Spilling Guts

Part 62 - Monday Plans

Louis had fucked up somewhere, but he couldn't tell how.

Oh their way out, Megan and Teegan invited him to go over their reports with Charlotte Lenore, Parker's sister, and give his impressions. Likely their way of apologizing for keeping him out of the loop while under orders. He still held twisted feelings about his former barista turned... poisoner? Doser? Traitor? Desperate photographer?

He'd tell them his decision on Monday. Like Will he'd left early.

At home, Louis buffed his sunglasses of brushed silver and mirrored glass with a microfiber cloth. Scratch resistant lenses, water-proof, UV coating. A gift from Will ages ago.

Don't know why I'm cleaning these damn things, he thought as he tossed the shades back into their case. They can't even get water spots.

He rubbed at his left wrist, bare of the brace Rachel had fitted for him. After a day of digging around trash and stress, it was surprisingly fine. It didn't ache or pull when he rotated his fist. If only other things had improved that day.

I had agreed with Will. Rachel doing tests behind our backs was a shitty thing. I even thanked him for saving my coffee cups for so damn long and helping dig them out of a trash pile. So where did I go wrong?

The day had started off with good intentions via a cup of tea and an apology note. It continued with more information on how he had become a freak under Retten's hands and a possible lead on how to change him back. And yet Louis still felt like the day had taken something out of him.

Was it Will's mood that put him off? That amiable, relaxed, affable Will had snapped at Rachel and Cetz in such a way? Personal experience proved that Will could get angry. Louis had never seen it directed at another person other than himself.

And Louis had deserved it.

The list of "problems" Louis had found on Will's desk took another turn in the mental spotlight, reminding him of his current research into the Devil's Neckbrace and the negative effects it had on its victims. How much was it changing Will?

Or was it just stress?

Louis flopped on the yoga mat in front of his television and stretched. A Celebrity Dancing rerun where sparkling costumes spun and an overly grandiose judge kept spouting random criticism out of thin air.

The tendons at the juncture of Louis' thighs burned as he moved his feet, sole to sole, closer to his groin. An adductor stretch he used to be better at. The last time he had bent his thighs in such a way was wrestling with Will in the mud; and he had limped afterwards.

Or am I still blindsided by the fact Will has an ex? Hell, he could have multiple exes. I wouldn't know. Can't exactly ask him out of the blue, "hey, how many people have you dated?" without sounded like a dick.

Louis hissed at an over exaggerated comment from the show.

Or sounding like that jerk of a judge. Seriously? It's a waltz, not a striptease.

...and why am I even focusing on something that ain't my business?!

Maybe because in comparison your social life resembles a jack-o-lantern still out on New Year's Eve and your romantic life is the melted birthday candle in the middle of it. Most of your exes have been ex-work partners.

Louis fell back to the mat, straightened his legs and then tucked a knee up to his chest.

When had he met with friends other than the regulars at his gym? The last time he called Andrew had been Christmas.

I haven't visited the VA in... months? A year?

Balcuwitz was right. I've been trying to do things alone. And I don't have to.

He also had a list of boundaries to write out; after hearing what Rachel and Cetz had kept from him, the mental list had grown.

Louis pulled both his knees up, ninety degree angle from his hips, and then tilted his hips to one side until his knees touched the floor. The vertebrae of his spine popped, launching a satisfied groan out of Louis' lips.

I'll try the apolo-tea again on Monday. I know exactly where Will's gonna be.

...And where I'm gonna be. Hard for him to sidestep me saying "sorry" when I'm literally inside him.