Shane Marion (wolfishane) wrote in bellumlogs, @ 2010-02-18 00:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | big bad wolf, red riding hood |
Who: Shane and Boyd
What: Incredibly depressing funnnnnn.
Where: 601
When: Feb. 14
Warnings: ...depressing. Put on your goggles.
Shane went out for several hours on the morning of Valentine's Day, after making sure Boyd's card had made it under the door. He walked in the park, he smoked a few cigarettes, got a coffee. By the time he came back it was late afternoon, and there was no way he could see that Boyd hadn't woken up and found her Valentine's gifts.
He opened the door to the apartment and listened. No sound. Maybe he was wrong--but no, all the valentines were gone from the door, set off to the side on one of the tables. He shut the door behind him and walked in.
Something felt...off. Amiss. He just couldn't put his finger on what. Maybe it was the fact that he'd been hoping Boyd would be there when he got home, awake and excited to see him--a minor disappointment.
He was walking past the bathroom when he noticed Boyd's clothes in a heap on the floor. The door was wide open, and the mirror was still wet with condensation. He almost kept walking until he noticed that the dress and underwear piled together weren't what she'd gone to sleep in. He noticed the scent drifting out at the same time, faint but familiar, lingering in the air of the bathroom, gone cool now, but distributed all around by the earlier steam.
He picked the dress up, sniffing it.
The first thing he noticed, firmly embedded in the fabric, was Boyd's arousal. That brought a little smile to his face, banished when he noticed the scent underneath it.
Daniel.
Boyd's arousal. And Daniel.
The dress hadn't been lying in the bathroom that morning, and it smelled like she'd barely worn it. So these two scents, mingling in the fabric, had been left there since he'd left that morning.
He dropped the dress and went back out into the living room.
He sat down at the table, eyes fixed on a vague point in space, attempting to make some sense of the information he'd just stumbled across. Boyd's laptop was open in front of him, on standby but not asleep. He looked at the black screen.
He shouldn't--
It couldn't--
Nothing good could come of prying, but he did it anyway.
He tapped the keyboard and the screen lit up. Boyd had been talking to Vlad and Rosalie. He read, and continued to read far past the point where he should have stopped. She'd gone to visit Daniel. To check on him, it looked like.
And she loved him.
A small detail.
Shane left Boyd a note, on the back of one of her other Valentines. He'd left the computer open, the note resting on the keyboard.
I wish you'd said something.
I'll be back tonight.
I'm sorry.
-S
Shane went out. He took his coat, and his gun was in his pocket. He wished it wasn't. He wished he was a better man than that, the sort Boyd wanted, the sort she deserved to have. But he had to, because of her dress, and because of Daniel, and because of people who perpetrated horrors and then buried themselves like parasites into the body of the city. He had to go out, because he couldn't go after Daniel, because there was no where else for him to go. Because it was Valentine's Day. So he took the stairs two at a time, set course in his head for the residence of a man who raped his wife, and hoped Boyd wouldn't be gone when he came home. He didn't feel the cold air that blasted him when he walked outside.