He took his hand away and I exhaled, a feeling of calm satisfaction bubbling up in me. “Thanks,” I said, tilting my head back to look up at Duke. He took the opportunity to lean over and kiss me. I was feeling accommodating so I just let him. When he moved away he was smiling.

Frank had been watching all that with a totally blank expression. I felt the need to tease him. “Does it not bother you when he does that?” I asked him. His eyes twinkled a little humorously.

“Not much,” he shot back.

“Are you just acting passive because you’re his brother?” He smiled at that.

“Yes.”

Duke made some displeased grumbling noise. “Yeah, yeah,” Frank muttered, putting out his cigarette and walking back inside. “I’ll wait in the car.” Duke waited until he had left before speaking.

“You shouldn’t get too close to Frank,” he warned me.

“Why?” I asked, for a moment wondering if he actually was with the police or something.

“Because you’re not the family cat: you’re just mine.” I was pretty certain that I’d never agreed to any exclusivity with whatever we were doing, but it’s not like I had the urge to be anyone else’s “cat” either so I didn’t protest. 

I nudged his arm to try and get him to remove it from me. “There’s more space now, so you can let go,” I explained.

“No. Let’s stay like this anyway.” He sounded pretty set on the idea.

“Fine,” I sighed. Duke began rubbing his head into my hair somewhat aggressively. I thought he might tell me I smelled bad again, but instead he just let out the same displeased grumbling noise he had before.

“It’s not like I’ll kill you…” he said uncomfortably, then whispered something too quiet to properly make out (but I’m convinced he said “probably”) before continuing. “So you don’t have to act passive or whatever… and you don’t have to be scared of me.” He pressed a long but gentle kiss on top of my head.

I realised that it was going to be a hassle no matter what I did in that situation, so decided I might as well indulge myself, like I would if I was drunk. I plucked the cigarette from his hand and took a long drag before I pressed it into Duke’s arm, making him flinch away. I turned around to face him and saw he had a nervous but excited smile. “I’m not scared of you killing me,” I told him plainly. “Because it doesn’t matter if you do. I really couldn’t care less. And I’m not ‘acting’ passive, alright? If I don’t respond to something it’s just because it doesn’t bother me, not because I’m trying to look good, got it?”

Duke nodded. His eyes still seemed pretty eager and excitable since I burned him. I looked at the small mark it left on his arm. I figured it was common courtesy to treat someone’s injury if you can, so I took his hand and said, “let’s run that under the cold tap for a bit.”

Duke didn’t move when I tugged him. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something but stopped himself. I gave him a questioning look. “Ah, well, I just thought that…” he began, stammering a bit. “Well, you treating my wound would be so amazing, but it would also be great having a scar from you, since the bite mark will fade eventually… so I’m torn…”

I found his honesty somehow both disturbing and refreshing. “If you want it to scar then you can pick the scab later, but you should put it under cold water now or it’s going to sting all day. So I can treat you and scar you, alright? You get the best of both worlds. Hannah Montana. Let’s go.” Duke seemed to get a real kick out of that and kept on giggling while I cooled his burn.

I finished packing after that. I put my phone and wallet into my pockets, slid my laptop and drawing tablet into their respective carrying cases, and put my backpack over my shoulders. “Okay, I’m done,” I told Duke. I locked the door behind us when we left, then remembered that my rent was still due three days from then. “While I’m here, I may as well pay my rent early,” I said, because I didn’t know if I’d ever be coming back. “I just need to go to a cashpoint real quick.”

“Oh!” Duke exclaimed. “Right! I forgot to tell you! The landlord here actually works for me, so I talked to him about you and you won’t have to pay rent anymore.” I instantly realised that this was the reason the landlord only ever accepted cash: because he was doing something shady with the money. “I’ll let you keep this place for now,” Duke continued, “but you’ll be living with me.”

“Is that so?” I whispered contemplatively. I was glad to have the clarification, mostly. I wasn’t shocked that Duke had decided we’d live together, since I was already somewhat prepared for that when I asked if I could leave that morning. I was a bit surprised he was letting me keep my apartment, though. When he said he talked to the landlord I’d assumed he spoke about canceling my lease.

Well, I decided that it was a good thing I could keep it, since the address was already listed as my place of residence on several legal documents, and it was saved as my default shipping address on my laptop. It would be a giant hassle if I had to change it, and I was fairly sure there would be ramifications if I started having my online shopping delivered to Duke’s place.

We got back into the car with Frank, both of us sitting in the back this time.

“We’ll take Soot back to mine, then we’re heading to work,” Duke instructed Frank. As soon as I managed to fasten my seatbelt, Duke unfastened it and dragged me onto his lap.

“I don’t think this is safe,” I complained, trying to pry him off me.

“Of course it’s safe,” he assured. “I’ll protect you. I’ll be your seatbelt.” I knitted my brows, then pressed my finger against his burn mark. He let out something like a moan when I pressed harder and loosened his grip.

I scoffed. “Some seatbelt,” Frank and I said at the same time. The corner of my mouth threatened to lift into a smile.

“Soot,” Duke whispered, his voice slightly breathless. “You really are the best. Let’s continue this when I finish work.” Then, in a completely different tone, he snapped “Frank, I’m docking your pay.” That pushed my quivering lip past its limit, erupting into a full fledged smile and even a chuckle. Frank glanced back at us through the rearview mirror.

“Boss, if you're the same age, why can’t you be that cute? You weren’t even cute as a kid.”

“Fuck off,” Duke fumed, then covered my face with his hands. “And don’t look at him like that, you pervert.”

“That’s pretty funny, coming from you,” Frank quipped, but I couldn’t really hear any humour in his voice.

The brothers were silent for the rest of the drive. I tried a few times to get Duke’s hands away from my face, eventually managing it only by burying my face into his chest.

People had reacted somewhat similarly to my smiling face before (calling it “cute”) but I wasn’t overly fond of it. Admittedly, I do look cute when I smile, but I look cute in a feminine way, so I probably have some insecurities about that. I spent a year consciously making sure not to smile, and then it became a bit of a habit. Of course, it’s not always suppressed nowadays. If I’m happy, I’ll smile. If something’s funny to me, I’ll laugh. But with my usual indifference, that itself is a rarity.

When we got back to Duke’s place, he told me to put my things in his bedroom, so I did. While doing that, he began to change his clothes. Since he didn’t ask me to leave or look away, I watched him with a vacant expression.

He had a totally jacked body, which pissed me off because I felt jealous. Well, it was my own fault for never managing to work out consistently for more than a week, but I always wished I had an overly masculine body like he did.

Because of that specific inferiority complex, I only ever slept with or dated guys that had similar physiques to mine. I then was bombarded with several intrusive thoughts about sleeping with Duke, and in every single one of them I was crushed to death.

“Like what you see?” he asked me flirtatiously when he was finished pretending not to notice my staring.

“No,” I told him honestly. He looked like he couldn’t decide if he was happy or sad to hear that, but he started getting dressed a lot quicker. Masochists have it rough, I guess.

“You can make yourself at home,” he told me while putting his shoes back on. “Help yourself to any food in the kitchen. I’m locking you in, but if there’s a fire or an emergency then you can use the fire escape.” I felt kind of comforted when he said that, for some reason. It didn’t strike me as something he would think about; planning for a fire. It was certainly a very considerate way to lock someone up. “I’m leaving now. Be good,”  he said with a smile.

“Bye. Have fun,” I said, giving him a small wave as he left. That excited him too much, so he ran back and dragged me into an intense make-out. I sort of got swept up in it and held onto his upper arms to pull him closer, but once I felt the rock-hard muscles beneath his clothes I snapped out of it. I kicked his shin so he would stop, then pointedly wiped my mouth once he stepped back.

He ran a hand through his short hair and smirked, his cheeks reddening. “See you later,” he breathed before finally leaving.

I stood in place for a few minutes, then walked to the door to check it was locked. 

It was.

I wondered what I should do for the rest of the day, but then I remembered that I had alcohol. Though, after what happened later because of said alcohol, I almost wish I hadn’t remembered it.