hounded

When Brian arrives at the loft forty minutes later, there is a tiny winged reptile staring at him from the back of the sofa.

Justin stares blankly at Brian, who is frozen in the doorway hearing the buzzing of fifteen years’ worth of acid trips in his ears.

“Is that a fucking dragon?” Brian asks at length.

“Oh my god, you see it too?!” Justin scrubs his hands over his face. “I thought I was going nuts or something. I was trying to figure out how to break it to you.”

“Did it follow you home from school?” Brian walks slowly into the loft and drops his briefcase and coat by the door. He stands next to Justin and they stare at the dragon.

“It was here when I got home. I think it came from the egg.” It opens its mouth and flames lick the air around its face. “Brian, your client gave you a dragon.”

It is all sharp angles like horns beneath its skin. Blue black flesh like a bruise, mottled over tiny ribs and vertebrae. It sneezes and sparks crackle in the air, fading to the smell of fire and brimstone. At Brian’s side, Justin recoils.

“Should we call animal control?” Justin asks.

“And say what, a dragon followed me home from school today?”

“Maybe if we leave the window open, it’ll fly away.”

They stare at it. It hisses flames and flexes its little wings.

They leave the window open.

--

After two weeks, Brian closes the window. Justin is unimpressed by Brian’s protests about burglars and the shifting weather, and scowls angrily at that little fucking dragon, curled up in Brian’s sheets.

Brian named him Marlon, and he’s now the size of Justin’s fist. He makes weird sounds in the middle of the night and eats all the fucking tuna. Tuesday morning, Justin woke to scorch marks on his sneakers, the soles melted a little into his crumpled jeans.

“Forget it,” Brian had said. “Those jeans were fucking ugly anyway.”

It’s easy for him to say. Marlon doesn’t go near Brian’s Gucci boots, his Prada loafers. Justin loses three pairs of sneakers by Monday.

--

Brian hasn’t ever had a pet, Justin supposes. It’s forgivable that Brian has somehow formed an attachment to the little fucking beast, scratching behind its horns while he watches CNN, feeding it bits and pieces off his plate at the dinner table. And it is kind of cute, when it’s not barbequing Justin’s Chuck Taylor’s. Sort of. He decides to leave it be for a few more weeks. It’s unlikely that Brian’s affection will wane, but if Justin leaves it long enough Brian might freak out and decide Marlon is better off without him.

xie_xie_xie

Brian shrugged and leaned against the doorjamb. “You could set it free.”

Justin looked up hopefully. “I… could.”

Brian waited.

“Let it rejoin it’s little gerbil friends in the wild,” Justin said. “No animal should be caged. It’s inhumane. I could let it run free!”

Brian raised a brow.

“I’m doing it,” Justin said.

Fifteen minutes later, Brian watched as Justin trudged morosely through the snow to the back door. His jeans were soaked from the knees down.

Brian let him in without a word.

Both Justin and Beatrice were shivering.

“I couldn’t do it,” Justin moped.

“I know,” Brian said. “You’re not that heartless.” He took the cage from Justin’s hand and set it on the counter. Then he smirked. “Want me to do it?”

“No!” Justin said. “He’s domesticated. He’ll die out there.”

Justin leaned against the counter and buried his face in his hands. Beatrice spat and chattered angrily at him.

“Brian--” Justin began.

And Brian sighed.