Wednesday Briefs #25 Diventando: Becoming

Copyright JC Wallace 2014

Welcome to another installment of Diventando: Becoming. Each week a group of authors participate weekly in Wednesday Briefs Flash Fiction. Each installment is 500-1000 words long and is posted to our blogs each week. After you read the latest in my story, click on the link at the end to visit other flashers. 

If you are new to Diventando: Becoming and haven’t read the previous chapters, click on Wednesday Briefs in the left hand column and start with #1. Enjoy and leave a comment to let me know what you think.

 

Owen had questions, so many questions, but first on his agenda were a shower and a shave. The shower had been a wet heaven of hot water. He hadn’t enjoyed the shave as much as he’d hoped. What had been unsettling was the surreal feeling that encroached on him as he looked into the mirror. As he’d shaved, he continually startled as he caught unfamiliar eyes with his gaze, which was ridiculous. They were his eyes, his face, however he continually had the feeling that he’d caught the gaze of someone he thought he knew, someone familiar, but not quite. The disparity between the person he saw every day in the mirror and the person he saw now was disconcerting and settled unease onto his nerves that he couldn’t quell. The longer he stared at his reflection, the greater the recognition that a stranger stared back at him. After a few minutes, he found himself avoiding the mirror all together and shaving the best he could by touch.

One he’d finished shaving and brushing his teeth, Owen dressed in the sweats he’d worn from the hospital. He grabbed the IV bag, ready to open the door but hesitated. Shit. A sinking feeling in the pit of his gut shook his legs. On the other side of the door, Turk waited to divulge every piece of information Owen would ask for ‘without hesitation’. Owen had thought he was ready, was sure he wanted to hear the truth, but he wasn’t one hundred percent sure now. He’d probably never be ready.

“Fuck this, McIntyre. Get your ass out there.”

Owen pulled back his shoulders and gritted his teeth. He was determined to emerge confident, ready to face anything despite feeling that at any minute he could be pitched into a deep black hole when the ground crumbled beneath his feet. Couldn’t be any worse than his life right now.

Owen entered the room. Turk looked up from where he sat on the corner of the bed as his elbows rested on his thighs. His fingers twisted nervously before him. The tension coiled every muscle, his jaw tight, his eyes dark, watching Owen intently. Turk stood abruptly, with such resolve that Owen froze where he was.

Turk ran his hand over his head. “Are you okay?...I mean...shit...I...”

Turk’s confidence had flagged, his bravado stripped and Owen sucked in a sharp breath. Had Turk been wrong? Was the plan he’d spoke of now null and void?

“Were you wrong?” The sound of Owen’s voice even sounded foreign to him.

Turk frowned. “Wrong?”

“You can’t do anything can you? Or you’ve changed you mind.” Owen wasn’t sure which would be worse.

A slow recognition filtered over Turk’s face. “Oh, no. No, Owen. I’m just...I don’t know what to say.”

Owen cradled the IV bag as one would a newborn. Precious and full of life. But also a barrier between him and Turk. He needed a clear head and that wasn’t possible with Turk close.

“You can start with exactly what’s going on. I mean, a demon has been with me since birth. Yeah, that’s a big one. Demons exist. And how you know this demon, and why he called you ‘Hunter’, and what was going on at the hospital, and how I somehow can see memories of you slicing off its head, which is pretty farfetched since it’s been in my body since birth, and how you can get it out of me without slicing my own head off—”

Hands on Owen’s face cut off his words. His chest heaved and he shook hard, hit suddenly by just how fucked this all was as if he hadn’t been living with that reality for weeks.

“Hey,” Turk said softly, his thumbs stroking Owen’s cheeks. “Breathe. It’s a lot to take in and I will tell you everything, okay?”

Owen looked up into those brown eyes that had enraptured him from their first meeting. Turk stared down on him intently. Owen searched his eyes, searched for anything to signal Turk wouldn’t tell him the truth. But Owen knew he would, knew he wouldn’t lie.

“Okay,” Owen said.

Turk leaned down and placed a feather light kiss on Owen’s lips. The gesture, loving, filled with intimacy, filled with...love? He thought of pulling Turk to him, attacking those full lips, grinding and humping and...

Owen stepped back quickly as his cock stirred to life. Shit, wouldn’t the demon love that? Get some Hunter juice and permanently evict Owen.

Turk dropped his arms and furrowed his brow, hurt dancing in his eyes.

“Sorry, it’s just being so close to you isn’t good right now.” So not good.

The furrowing continued until a light of recognition covered Turk’s face. “You’re right,” he agreed. “But sit down before you fall down.” Turk motioned him to the bed.

Owen gratefully complied. Every cell in his body was exhausted. Turk propped up the pillows and Owen sank back into the feathery goodness. When Turk covered Owen’s legs with the blanket, the caring gesture wrapped tight around Owen’s heart.

Turk sat on the bed, a respectable distance from Owen, and sighed. Again, he ran his hand over his head. Owen could tell he was having trouble starting. Why not start with something simple.

“Tell me about yourself,” Owen said with a gentle smile.

Turk stopped his fidgeting, and gazed at Owen, but he didn’t return the smile. In fact his eyes grew darker by the second and his lips formed a tight line. When he finally spoke, he said, “I’m a hundred and twenty-nine years old.”

So much for simple.

 

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