Stockholm Syndrome? - Chapter 19: Chapter 19

Felix's POV
Archer made the best pancakes ever; thick and fluffy with a little hint of sweetness. They were lightly brown, and tasted like heaven in my mouth. I devoured every little bit, scraping through the honey that fell in lines on my plate. He made his pancakes with flair and brushed his skills aside with a shrug when I asked how he could possibly be that good.
The only thing that tasted better than his pancakes were his lips. They weren't just soft; they were full and drove me to a place near to insanity every time I touched them with mine. They had the taste of innocence that hid the riches kissing him provided. It always took much strength to pry myself away from him and that day was no different. I felt every atom in my body protest when I separated my lips from his.
Finding him had been easy. I already knew he would be in California when I used to spy on him. He was two states away from me, something that surprisingly didn't sit well with me. I had made not just one promise, but two promises to him. The second hadn't been communicated to him. I thought it was best if he didn't know that I silently promised to protect him any way I could. I knew he would protest.
I moved to California, deciding to live a secluded life under the radar. I had enough money for a mansion, but I settled for a cabin in the woods. It was secluded and offered me as much privacy as I needed. It also allowed me to move my arsenal without raising alarms.
I'd been doing just fine for the last couple of months. I still made art transactions and went to local diners to eat. The cabin was a bit lonely, but I got used to it. I didn't have any desire in me to call hookers anymore. I thought about it, but I knew deep down it wasn't what I wanted and would only serve to frustrate me.
I didn't spy on Archer for two months. Even though I had moved with the purpose of protecting him, I couldn't put myself in situations where my heart would lurch every time I saw him knowing I couldn't contact him.
I couldn't contact him. I'd disrupted his life enough as it was. Sure he'd been quite brave when he was in my basement, but I'd seen his vulnerability. I knew there was a point I had terrified him. He may have been willing to let me get away with kidnapping him, but I doubted he wanted me in his life. It was best for me to keep away.
That was until Casey Vasiliev contacted me. He and his brother were crime bosses involved in the drug trade. They had competition and they wanted him out of the picture. They didn't go into details about how they found out the murders I had committed, but that they didn't threaten to submit me to the police after I said no told me they had no proof.
I had no desires to kill, even if it was in the name of justice. I had made a promise to Archer. Even though sometimes I imagined getting rid of some people who I knew were up to no good, I reigned myself in. He wouldn't know if I killed someone, but I would and the guilt would eat me up inside.
I cared about the boy and I cared just as much what he thought of me. It was something strange. I'd never cared about what anyone thought, but there was this boy who came around and changed that. He stirred emotions in me that left me in awe. I had yet to figure out what they meant.
When the Vasiliev brothers contacted me, I knew I was going to either kill or be killed. I made a choice. They insisted they wanted me and they were going to get me, only the target wouldn't be what they wanted. If they came for me I would have no choice but to defend myself. Surely Archer would understand that, right?
I scribbled the note and passed it under his door. Locating him had been easy. I didn't live far from his campus. I scouted the area until one day when I saw him leave campus to his apartment. I followed him. I was quite good at being inconspicuous so he didn't see me. I slid the note under the door with a certain organ of mine aching. He was literally on the other side of the door and I couldn't talk to him.
I kept an eye on him for the rest of the week, usually when he left soccer practice to his apartment in the evening. I wasn't supposed to, but I wanted to know his reaction to my note. It was like a craving, and watching him alone didn't satisfy it. He did the same thing every day. It was like he was stuck in a rut. I needed to know his thoughts. I needed a lot more than that, but my mind argued that kissing him wasn't a need.
On the night that he drank about a barrel of alcohol, seeing him was a coincidence. I'd berated myself about exposing him to triggers of the kidnapping by spying on him, so I stopped. That night I randomly decided the scotch in my cabin wasn't enough to drown out the images I'd seen the last couple of days. I decided to go out.
I went to a diner first, but the almost-silent place wasn't helping. I decided to hit a loud club. I had no plans other than to indulge in the alcohol and have meaningless conversations with people. I didn't expect Archer to be there, and when he walked in everything around me stopped.
He walked within feet of me but didn't see me, probably due to some alcohol that was already in his system. I'd never had that much desire to reach out and grab a person before. I wanted badly to just close the gap between us, to hold him against me, to tell him I was sorry for everything.
I didn't. Instead I found a corner to sit where he wouldn't see me. He was knocking back drinks one after the other. His friends were not in sight. I was genuinely worried about him, even more when some guy joined him by the bar. They didn't talk long before they were leaving together. I'd never seen that guy so I knew he wasn't his friend. Instinct just told me something was wrong.
I ended up beating the guy to a pulp when I found him trying to rape Archer. I'd used a card to unlock his door quietly. When I walked in and found him standing over Archer's form with Archer's jeans off, I saw red. Archer was lying back on the bed. He looked almost lifeless, except for his slow breathing.
The guy would remember me for a long time to come. I punched and kicked him, pinning him to the wall. With every punch I felt it wasn't enough so I gave him more until I ran the risk of killing him or not getting what I wanted. While beating him I realized how Archer's breathing was almost inconspicuously slowing down more as time went by.
"What the fuck did you give him?!" my voice bellowed as I pinned the guy against the wall.
"R-R-Roofie", he stammered.
"How much?!" I yelled.
"One pill. I gave him one", he said.
"You better fucking hope he's okay or so help me God I am going to bash this ugly face of yours exactly at this spot", I said pointing to a spot on the wall next to his head.
I let him go harshly and attended to Archer. His breathing was barely noticeable. Grabbing him by his arm, I pulled him to a sitting position and lifted him off the bed. I managed the walk back to my car and lay him in the backseat. Driving to the hospital and explaining was too big a job so I drove him to my place. I had a stash of medical drugs including prescription-only drugs.
My studies in Russia and my general interest in medicine had taught me how to deal with drug overdoses and what the antidotes were. I had vials of Flumazenil which I used to antidote the drug. I set Archer on my bed and checked on him a couple of times.
I checked on him more than was necessary. The overdose wasn't bad but I felt like being away from him was a bad idea. I needed to be close to him, to hold his hand. I needed to know every second that he was okay.
Seeing that guy about to defile him didn't only bring out the beast in me. When I walked in on the scene I was angry, but I was also scared. Archer was lying there motionless. He couldn't defend himself. What if I had been a second too late? He'd be scarred for life. His will, hope, smile and sense of safety would be taken from him.
My heart ached in a terrible way. I'd sworn to protect him and I had almost blown it. I never got scared about my safety but Archer's was priority for me now. I needed to keep him safe. I couldn't allow anyone to hurt him, if not for his sake then mine. I needed him to be alive and okay in every way possible. I didn't know why and it didn't matter.
I slept on the couch in my room, if you could call it sleeping. I checked on Archer every few minutes and found him sleeping peacefully each time. His breathing rate was back to normal. I had an urge to climb into bed and lie next to him but I suppressed it. The last thing he needed was to wake up in a man's arms.
~~~~~~~~
At that moment he sat next to me on the couch, eating his pancakes. After our exchange outside, we'd walked in. He'd made scrumptious breakfast and we'd settled in the living area to eat. I keep looking at him as he slightly winced numerous times.
"You okay?" I interrupted the silence.
"If you stop staring at me I'll be fine", he said.
For a second I was drawn to his lips as he formed the words. No so long ago I had kissed those lips, unable to suppress my desire. I knew I hadn't quenched it, but now it was growing stronger than before.
"I don't have laser eyes. You are wincing", I pointed out.
"I just have this terrible headache", he said.
I chuckled slightly. "That's what happens when you knock back drinks like it's the end of the world".
He glared at me. Was it weird that that turned me on?
"If you are going to ask and then laugh, don't bother asking", he said.
"I'm sorry", I said sweetly.
"I'm cold", he said suddenly. I think it took a lot for him to say it. He'd thrown the words out like he'd been fighting with himself.
"Fireplace cold or jacket cold?" I asked. I had been surprised he wasn't feeling the cold. The place wasn't just surrounded by trees; it was a deal higher than sea level. At night the fireplace came in handy. It would soon be winter.
"Jacket", he replied.
He'd been wearing a jacket the night before, but I came to the conclusion that it wasn't warm enough for the weather. I picked out a warm grey sweatshirt for him in my room.
"Here", I said handing it to him. I was still standing.
He took it and wore it. It was too big for him, but it made him look more adorable.
"You are huge", he commented pulling at the sweatshirt.
"Thank you for that –err –compliment", I said smiling and then winked. I was implying something else.
He got what I was implying because he turned his face away slightly to try and hide the reddish tinge that had graced his face. He turned back slowly and I noticed his face was slightly scrunched.
"I'm wary about giving you painkillers with everything else you've had in your system in the last few hours. Do you want to give them a try?" I asked.
I could see his chest jerk forward slightly and then fall back. I knew immediately what was coming.
"I think I'm gonna..." he managed to say before vomit spewed out of him and landed on my carpeted floor.
"Puke", I finished for him quietly.
I moved closer to him. I should have been moving away but I did the opposite.
"My stomach hurts", he complained before he threw up again. I noticed that he was perspiring a little on his forehead. His color was diminishing slightly.
"Where?" I asked quickly.
He clutched the left side of his abdomen under his ribcage just before he said "Ow" and leaned over.
"Baby, did you experience any heartburn the last weeks?" I said. It took some time before I realized I had called him 'baby'.
"Yeah, a little", he managed to say after a short silence that made me wonder if he was thinking about the term of endearment I had mistakenly used.
"If I'm right you have mild acute gastritis. With the drugs there shouldn't have been pain", I said.
He looked alarmed so I did the only think I could. I pulled him into my arms, effectively hugging him.
"You are going to be fine baby. I promise. I'm here and I'm going to take care of you", I said. That time it didn't bother me that I had used the word 'baby'. It felt right.
"You better, because all of it is your fault", he said. I couldn't see his face but I knew from his tone of voice that he didn't mean it.
I hugged him tighter. "I know, and I'm sorry Pancakes".