Stockholm Syndrome? - Chapter 25: Chapter 25

Felix's POV
The week went by slowly. I didn't have anything to do on Monday and Tuesday so those days were taken up by thoughts of the night and day I had spent with Archer. It was like he had left a part of him at the cabin.
On Wednesday I attended a private art viewing by an upcoming painter. It was a three-day viewing, which required me to spend the night in town. I bought a painting on a whim only because it reminded me of Archer. It was of a grey flower against a black background. The grey reminded me of his eyes. It was a ridiculous thing to do – I always made calculated sales, but I'd had no problem parting with the money.
The boy was bad for my business, and he made me smile effortlessly. One was more important than the other.
I was glad to be back at the cabin on Friday. Ricky called. He of course missed me and wondered if he had been replaced. Many got the hint when I didn't call them, but not Ricky. He thought I was lying in a ditch somewhere and that's why I didn't call. The lines were obviously blurry for him. He'd called to tell me he was in California and would be back soon so I shouldn't worry. I didn't have the energy to tell him off so I merely said "ok".
I was glad when Saturday arrived. I was ready to leave in the wee hours of the morning, but reminded myself that Archer already thought I was creepy. I had to tone it down. I couldn't arrive so early in the morning at his place.
I left for his place around 2:40 pm, which seemed like a reasonable time. I wouldn't find him still in his pajamas and probably sleepwalking. The drive was 3 minutes less than the average. Sometimes I couldn't help but place my foot firmly on the accelerator. I had found speed exhilarating even before I could drive and now I could afford cars that gave me the opportunity to yield to my primal urges.
The Jeep wasn't a sports car, but I took it to its limits nonetheless. It couldn't provide the speed I yearned for but the journey to Archer's apartment was considerably reduced. I parked the car on the side of the road and got out, making my way to the building.
I was familiar with the interior of the building, having entered it previously. I knew Archer's apartment. I made my way there.
A knock later and I was standing at the door nervously. Nervousness was a new state for me. I used to do dangerous things, I'd never been nervous about them. But here I was, rubbing my hands together. It was a weird feeling.
The door opened jerkily. Archer's flatmate was standing there.
"Hi", he said.
"Hi. Is Archer in?" I asked. My confidence had returned; my voice showed it.
"Yeah", he said. "Hey A! You have a visitor!" he shouted into the room.
A few seconds passed before Archer appeared at the door. Something in my body did a thousand somersaults. I had been looking forward to seeing that face and I wasn't disappointed. Archer looked good. His hair had been slicked back with a few hairs lying messily – his usual look. It looked glossier and blacker than the last time. He was wearing a black round neck t-shirt and baby blue chinos.
I noticed his eyebrow was raised. I had made it obvious that I was checking him out. Great!
"Hi", he said.
"Hi. I hope I'm on time", he said.
"You are a little bit early, but early is better than late", he said. "Um...this is Alex, Alex this is Felix". He did the introductions after realizing his flatmate was still standing at the door. He looked reluctant to leave.
"Nice to meet you", I said.
"You too", he said and walked away.
"Seems like you don't need me to look after you", I said nodding my head towards the direction Alex had just took.
"He's just a bit protective after he found out about the kidnapping", he said dismissively. "Come in".
We walked into the apartment. The first thing I noticed was the collages on the wall. The room was rather somber, consisting of a TV stand, TV, music player and two couches. The collages gave it some life. It was separated from the kitchen by the kitchen counter, which was where Alex was presumably preparing some food.
I walked over to the wall to get a good view of the collages.
"You did this?"
"No, Superman did it", he said. I wasn't facing him so I couldn't see, but those grey eyes were probably being tortured by being forced to look upwards in a roll I was familiar with.
"I meant did you take the pictures?"
"Yeah", he said.
There were three collages. I looked at each of them. Two of them consisted of random people. The arrangement was exquisite, but it was the quality of each picture that caught my eye. Some were taken probably mid-sentence and yet looked striking. The angles were perfect. It looked as though they were taken by a professional. I knew Archer was an avid photographer, but I had never seen his work. The boy was talented.
"I don't see myself here", I remarked, remembering the picture he'd taken. "You could have the picture here and still stare at it before you go to bed, you know"
I turned to him just in time to see him turn a little red. It didn't look like he was blushing this time.
He looked at Alex and then at me. "I deleted your picture", he said through gritted teeth. "Now, please make yourself at home. I'm packing my bag in the bedroom".
"I could help you", I offered.
His eyes narrowed dangerously. "I don't need help. Thanks".
I grinned and watched as he walked towards what was presumably his bedroom. I resumed looking at the pictures, still awed by Archer's talent. He could make a career out of photography if he wanted.
"So...um...what are you to Archer?" Alex's voice caught me off guard. His question did too.
"A friend", I said, knowing very well that wasn't true.
"You um..." he said and went silent.
"...Look too old to be his friend?"
"Well yeah...no offence. He's just never mentioned you", he replied.
I shrugged. "I'm his drug dealer".
The boy's jaw fell to the floor. It was a sight too funny I couldn't resist laughing. "I'm kidding, we are friends", I managed to say after a bout of laughing.
The boy breathed a sigh of relief.
"So Alexei, are you going to watch the soccer match?" I asked.
He frowned. "Archer didn't call me by my full name".
They boy was too observant.
"Well, he may not talk about me, but he talks about you. How else do you think I would know your full name?"
He shrugged. "Juice?" he offered.
I went over to take a glass of orange juice from him and took a seat on one of the couches, only realizing then that the TV was on. I never paid attention to the TV. I couldn't find any of the programs interesting.
"I'm not going to the match. I have a shift at work", he said.
"You seem to overwork", I commented, forgetting again that he wasn't Archer and I couldn't just reveal everything I knew about him.
I'd done a background check on him. Of course I had. I'd silently promised Archer I wouldn't allow anyone to hurt him. The suspect was usually the people closest to you. I wouldn't allow Alex next to Archer if I knew he was capable of hurting him.
"Archer told you? I'm taking extra shifts to pay for a bike I want", he said. "Quality isn't cheap".
I nodded and took a sip of my juice.
"What else has Archer told you about me?" Alex asked.
I shrugged. "Nothing I can remember now". I could tell him his whole life story if I wanted to.
Archer emerged from his bedroom carrying a gym bag. He put it on the floor near the couches and went to sit on one further from me.
"Your ticket", he said handing me a ticket. "The entrance is on there and entry times".
Alex left the kitchen and disappeared in his room.
"Do you have to sit that far?" I whined. It came out unmanly, something that wasn't me.
Archer narrowed his eyes before he said. "I got you a mid-row seat. I wasn't sure what you prefer". He was deliberately ignoring my question.
"Right now, I want..."
He cut in. "I have to go. I have training and warming up session before the game. Will you be okay?"
"I have no idea what you have just said. You are too far", I said.
I saw a hidden smile. His resolve was breaking. I saw the annoyed look, which was better than his sudden serious demeanor.
He stood up and came to stand in front of me.
"You are annoying, creepy and weird. Can you hear me now?"
I grinned. "...Loud and clear Pancakes". I noticed how close he was. I could reach out and pull him to my lap and somewhere deep down, I wanted to do that.
"Don't call me Pancakes", he said. His voice was soft but I felt like I had just been slapped.
"Why? You hate it?" My voice sounded desperate.
I wouldn't mind if he hated it the first time I used it. Hell, if he hated it I would use it to annoy him. He hadn't showed any inclination of hating it and suddenly he didn't want me to use it. That was a sign that something had gone wrong.
"No, I don't hate it. It's just...it's a nickname, and people give nicknames like that to people they love. I don't want people to get the wrong idea", he said.
His explanation just made me the pain of the slap worse. There was obviously nothing between us and he didn't want people to think there was; and by people he meant his date later that evening. He didn't want me to ruin his chances.
"Got it", I said quietly.
He smiled. "We should get going. I'm running late. You can hang in one of the restaurants near the stadium while you wait".
I nodded and followed him out of the apartment. The drive was short. He was within walking distance from the stadium. I dropped him off at one of the entrances. I didn't have to wait for long before the time stipulated on the tickets as the entry time. I got into the stadium and found my seat. I had a good view of the soccer pitch. There were some preparations still being done. People started trickling in. The stadium wasn't filled to capacity but there was a good turnout. Some people were wearing the Bruins colors of true blue and gold and some were wearing the Cal Bears colors of Yale blue and gold. I was wearing a navy blue t-shirt and a pair of black jeans. I didn't stand out.
A girl wearing a Cal Bears sweatshirt sat next to me. Some pop song was coming from the speakers.
"Hi. I'm Marissa", she greeted enthusiastically over the music. She looked at most 19.
"Hi...Felix", I said. I had been about to say Seth as I usually did. I wasn't Seth or Axel anymore.
I spotted Archer on the field. He was kicking a ball to a teammate, who kicked it back to him. The kicks were done leisurely, probably so as to not wear out before the game.
The referee seemingly blew his whistle. The music came to a stop and the players lined on the pitch for some time. I couldn't see much of the coin toss but I saw the Cal bears captain point to the left side of the pitch. He shook hands with the referees and the other captain before the home team moved in a line to greet the visitors.
The Cal Bears players gathered to take a picture before kick-off. I could see Archer smiling at the camera before jogging onto the pitch. He seemed so happy and carefree. The home crowd roared and clapped, encouraging their team. I clapped too and found myself smiling. It felt good just watching Archer on the pitch, donning the number 8 jersey.
I watched him talk to someone and take his position before the referee blew the whistle.
From then on there was a lot of activity on the pitch. The ball changed positions so many times it was impossible not to lose sight of it at times. There were a lot of near-misses at both ends. Archer shone on the ball. He distributed nicely and got in some really good crosses. Not all his passes were perfect and I could see some frustration. Nevertheless he had a good work ethic, running back to retrieve the ball. He was quite fast too, completing what I thought were the highest number of passes on the pitch.
Both supporters urged their teams on. I found myself shouting with them. It was weird and exhilarating. I'd never been a soccer fan before but watching it live, it was impossible not to feel something when the ball narrowly missed the net or hit the post. It was frustrating and got adrenaline rushing through my body.
I was enjoying myself.
The half-time whistle blew. I got myself a corndog and soda. Marissa kept me company, talking about how her friends thought she was weird for liking soccer. I didn't reply much but I was glad for the company.
The boys returned to the pitch. I looked at one boy in particular. He walked slowly before breaking into a jog. A joke was shared among his teammates and they laughed. The whistle blew, signaling the start of the second half.
Both coaches made several substitutions as the clock wind down. The first yellow card came from a foul by one of the UCLA players on Archer. The tackle was mistimed. I felt anger at the pit of my stomach and had to remind myself it was just a game. Archer massaged his leg, pulled up his sock and stood up. He seemed to be okay, resulting in a loud sigh of relief from me.
"I'd say you know him, number 8", Marissa said.
"Why would you say that?"
"Because the anger in your eyes looked personal", she said.
"He's a friend", I said.
"Something tells me you are not used to him getting hurt. He's going to get hurt. It's not a brutal sport but mistakes happen. People break their legs in this sport", she said.
I almost glared at her. I didn't need her to tell me that Archer could get seriously hurt. I couldn't protect him when he was out there.
The first goal of the evening came courtesy of a free kick that was given after the foul on Archer. The free kick was taken nicely, but the keeper got a hand to it, pushing it back into the playing area. A Cal Bears player was on hand to knock it back and this time the keeper couldn't keep it out.
I cheered with the supporters. Archer celebrated with his teammates. The mood was jovial and beautiful; not for the UCLA supporters though.
The referee blew his whistle for the restart and it wasn't long before the UCLA team pulled a goal back. The goal was rather clumsy, but it was a goal nonetheless. With 10 minutes to go, the score was tied at one-all. You could feel anticipation around the stadium. People were waiting for that winning goal.
The boys of both teams worked superbly, but that winning goal wasn't coming. That was until a superb moment from one of the Cal Bears players. After playing a one-two with a teammate, he ran forward with the ball at his feet, seemingly catching the UCLA defenders off guard. People who weren't on their feet got on their feet as anticipation grew. He managed to avoid a tackle just before he released the ball into the air. The goalkeeper jumped, but it was too late. The ball hit the net and fell to the ground.
The supporters roared. I shouted in elation, beaming at the boy who had taken the shot. His teammates hugged him. Some climbed onto him.
"Your friend is doing pretty well", Marissa whispered into my ear.
"Yeah, he's great", I said, unable to stop myself from smiling. Why would I want to keep Archer from that? Sure he was going to get hurt as some point but the smile on his face told me it didn't matter. He enjoyed it, and from that shot, he was good at it.
The players played the remaining minutes before the referee blew his whistle for full-time. Hugs and handshakes were exchanged between teammates and opponents.
Marissa turned to me, extending her hand. "Nice to meet you Felix", she said.
I took her hand and shook it. "Nice to meet you too".
We made our way out of the stadium. Before I'd dropped him off, Archer said he would meet me after the game. I was on my way to my car when someone sneaked behind me.
"Boo", the person said. I liked the sound of that voice.
I turned. "Pancakes, what did I tell you about sneaking up on me?"
"What did I tell you about calling me Pancakes?" he countered.
I raised my hand in surrender. "You are a fast changer", I commented.
"I wanted to rush home to get ready for my date", he said.
I internally groaned. Did he always have to remind me that he had a date?
"Right. Congratulations. You looked great out there!" I said, changing the subject.
He beamed. "Thanks. Did you at least not find it boring?" he asked sheepishly.
"Boring?! Are you kidding me? I enjoyed it", I said truthfully.
"I'm glad you did. I'm sorry I can't properly hang out. The delay ate into that time. I have to get ready", he said.
One more time...and I'll go wring Damian's neck!
I didn't realized how angry I was until my cell phone beeped and I pressed it furiously. I had gotten a message. I thought it was the artist I'd bought the painting from or Ricky. The person it was from was chillier than a clingy prostitute.
It was two pictures, captioned,
"You have good taste. Didn't take you for a faggot, but he's good-looking. It would be a shame if he were to suddenly...disappear. Call me when you are ready to do what I hired you to do".
The pictures were of Archer and me taken at the cabin. They were taken that morning I'd let him use my gun. On both of them we were kissing, probably taken seconds apart. It made sense why I hadn't noticed anything. When I kissed Archer all my senses focused only on him.
"Is something wrong?" he asked.
"You need to come with me to the cabin" I said.
He frowned. "What?"
"You are not safe here", I said.
"Tell me you are joking", he said looking at me like he was about to kill me.
"Archer, they know about you. I can't protect you if you are far from me", I said.
I saw the fear creep into his eyes. He looked around quickly. "What? What do you mean they know?" he said urgently.
I showed him the message. He looked at it for a while. I could see he was becoming scared. I wanted to hold him, to tell him it was going to be okay, but I couldn't do that. I couldn't even tell him I was sorry I'd put him in such a situation. It was my entire fault.
He handed me back the phone.
"I can't leave with you. I have college. I just can't disappear", he said.
"Did you read that message?" I asked in disbelief.
"Yes! I know they are threatening to do something. I...I can't leave. If you want to protect me, stay!" he said.
"S-stay?" I asked uncertainly.
"Yes, with me. Alex won't say no if I tell him it's for a few days. You can sleep on the couch. I am not going back to the cabin", he said.
I thought about it. Staying meant I would be unarmed except for my berretta, but I would be with Archer. I couldn't leave him after the chilly message I got.
"Okay I'll stay. But tomorrow we are going to get some clothes and you are coming with", I said.
He huffed angrily. "Whatever you say. Can we go now? I'm trying to dodge Stella and Clark. I don't feel like explaining...you".
The boy threw punches he didn't even know he was throwing. I felt like he had just punched me in the stomach.
I nodded, deciding it was better not to say anything.
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