Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9918353.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Fandom:
      Borderlands_(Video_Games)
  Relationship:
      Handsome_Jack/Rhys_(Borderlands)
  Character:
      Handsome_Jack_(Borderlands), Rhys_(Borderlands), Timothy_Lawrence, Rhys's
      Dad_(Borderlands), Axton_(Borderlands)
  Additional Tags:
      Modern_AU, Minor!Rhys, Turning_Tricks, Slight_Prostitution, is_that_even
      a_thing?, Rhys'_Father's_A+_Parenting, that_was_sarcasm, CEO!Jack, soon
      to_be_anyway, Oral_Sex, Rough_Sex, Guilt, Internal_Conflict, Moral
      Ambiguity, Jack_is_a_Little_Shit, more_to_come_-_Freeform, Not_for_the
      squeamish, Bad_Attitudes, Rhys_has_a_bad_attitude, so_uhm_cough_cough,
      Spanking, will_ensue, Drugs, Jack's_drug_dealer_is_Rhys'_dad, Dubious
      Consent, these_will_get_more_organized_I_swear, Self-Indulgent, Alcohol
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-03-05 Chapters: 2/? Words: 5101
****** Bad Attitude ******
by adolescence
Summary
     Not quite your normal tale of rags to riches.
     Rhys is trailer park trash with a drug dealer for a dad, and Jack is
     soon to become the CEO of his father's company with a vice.
Notes
     Hey! Another self indulgent fic here. Trying to get back in the game
     and I figured this was the way to go.
     ;; I'm sorry.
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Money *****
The air in the trailer was stale, musty, and something about it made Jack feel
almost immediately dirty just for occupying the same space. If he could have
his way about it - safely - he wouldn't come here, but unfortunately there
wasn't an alternative route for his extracurricular activities. At least not
one where he didn't have certain insurances. There was an image he wanted out
there, a part of him that made people fear and respect him, and there was a
part of him that he wanted to keep to himself. And his tendency towards the use
of illegal substances just happened to be one of the few parts of him he liked
to keep to himself. Er- rather himself and whoever he decided was worthy enough
to party with. But those few people knew how to kept their mouth shut. Much
like his dealer, hence the shithole he was currently - and reluctantly - in.
 
A couple of his men were stationed out on the makeshift porch at the front
door, one at its back. Perhaps it was a bit of an overkill to have that many
men with him, but being paranoid is what's kept him out of prison and, well,
alive. Especially in a shifty neighborhood like this. But, for the most part,
he felt relatively okay being in this place. Aside from the fact he felt as if
he might contract some sort of disease by even walking in the damn place. Much
to his own surprise, he kept all of those comments to himself.
 
His dealer entered the room. They never exchanged names, but the man was bland
and had the decency of a pig, so Jack had a few nicknames of his own. He was
sure that unless they lived under a rock - which, looking around, seemed about
right - he would know who he was without Jack having to tell him; he was one of
the heirs to the proverbial Hyperion throne. Whenever his dad croaked, and the
old man didn't get too sentimental and give it to his brother Timothy instead,
the company would be going right to him. That being said, Hyperion wasn't too
awfully famous at the moment, but in a city like this? He was easily the
richest, most successful person for miles. Plus, as soon as Jack got this
greedy hands on Hyperion, he'd change things. He'd have business practically
booming within the first few months of his reign.
 
So, it was likely that this loser knew who he was. Why he didn't extort him for
his riches, he didn't know. If it were Jack, he totally would, but he supposed
not all people were as smart as him.
 
"You got my stuff today?" Jack inquired, raising one of his eyebrows. When the
man raised up a small packet of a white, powdery looking substance that he'd
gotten from the false bottom of a drawer in the living room, Jack crossed his
arms casually. "Be honest with me, pal. This a good batch or what?"
 
"'Course it's good. Ain't it always?" He replied, voice gruff from probable
years of smoking and drinking, if the smoky smell that permeated the air around
him and the bottles lying about were any indication.
 
"Eh." Jack shrugged, lifting his hand and making a "so-so" motion.
 
The man rolled his eyes at the other. Normally Jack wouldn't stand for someone
acting this way, so nonchalantly, with him, but all he could do was sit back
and admire the man's balls - or stupidity. Perhaps it was a little bit of both.
 
Jack reached inside of his pocket and pulled out a roll of money, and by the
way the man was ogling it, it was more money than the man had seen at any one
time in his life. Looking around, that wasn't hard to believe. He counted out
some of the money and pulled it from the roll, taking it between his middle and
fore fingers as he held it out to the other with a smirk. Just as the man was
about to eagerly hand over what he came here for, there were voices and a bit
of commotion at the front door. Paranoia kicking in, Jack shoved his money back
in his pocket and hurried over to the window to check it out.
 
Outside of the window clouded from age and lack of cleaning, stood what looked
to be a boy. He was shorter than Jack's men, but that didn't stop the kid from
straightening out, his defiant gaze sending daggers at both of the men blocking
the entrance to the house - if you could even call it that. The way the kid
seemed completely unfazed by the men, and the danger it would likely entail,
interested Jack. But what interested him even more was the young man's attire;
a loose muscle tank with some sort of writing on the front and some honest-to-
God booty shorts that made his already long legs seem to stretch on for miles.
It was this man's kid. Jack had seen him around before, skulking around the
house here and there. And this wasn't even the skimpiest outfit Jack's seen him
walking around in.
 
Before Jack could drag his eyes away, the man beside him sighed heavily and
shook his head. "Damn kid. Told 'em to stay out for a couple hours," He
murmured, and Jack watched him open the door. "He'll keep quiet about this - 'e
always does. You don't gotta worry about him."
 
The future CEO followed him, if only to get a better look at the young man,
only humming at the man's words. Even if he didn't, who would believe trailer
trash like these two? When his eyes landed on the kid, Jack cleared his throat
and the bickering - mostly one-sided on the kid's part - ceased. The harsh
glare landed on Jack, then, surprising him with mismatched eyes much like his
own. Just instead of a green and blue, this kid's were blue and a honeyed
amber. Jack quirked an eyebrow, lips curling into a smirk.
 
"He's okay," Jack said to his men, patting one of them on the shoulder.
Hesitantly, they nodded and parted.
 
"Can't even get into my own fucking house anymore." The kid grumbled, shoving
past all of them without so much as a second look.
 
"Language, Cupcake." Jack's gaze followed the kid who had a backpack slung over
his shoulders.
 
"Oh, fuck off!"
 
The kid slammed the bedroom door behind him, silencing anything more that Jack
might have said.
 
Jack was impressed, to say the least. A little irritated with his bruised ego,
but he'd always been a fast healer. It was obvious the kid had an attitude
problem, and Jack enjoyed musing the idea of fixing it for a little bit before
shifting back into gear. It was a little surprising though whenever he turned
back to the other as he closed the door once more and saw the unadulterated
anger in the man's eyes, in the hard lines of his face. Judging by all of that,
it was apparent that this kind of stuff happened all the time.
 
Getting a hold of himself, the man looked to Jack before making his way back
over to where he had stashed what he had came here for. Jack had already been
here too long, so he was ready to get this show on the road. And seeing as the
kid had left to his room and didn't seem to be coming out anytime soon, he had
no reason to stay once he got what he wanted.
 
He counted out the money again and handed it over, the man's grubby hands
taking it and handing him the little packet, which he took and slipped easily
into his pocket. A feline grin curled at his lips. "Pleasure doing business
with you."
 
"Pleasure's all mine," The man tried eloquently, but his southern drawl took
from it, as well as the way he tucked the cash away and eyed Jack.
 
As Jack promptly took his leave, he paused in the doorway, craning his head
some to look at the father again. He clicked his tongue on the roof of his
mouth, thinking of a way to ask the question on his mind. And then deciding if
it was worth it. Finally, he asked. "How much for a couple hours with the boy?"
 
He looked up from where he'd been getting back to doing his own thing, creasing
his brow. His eyes widened a fraction as realization registered over his
features, apparently getting what Jack was insinuating.
 
"M'boy's not for sale, you perver-" The man flared up, face nearly red with
anger, but Jack merely got out that roll of money again, counting out a couple
hundred. Money was what this guy was all about - the highest bidder. Jack knew
the type when he saw them.
 
Jack held out the money, arching an eyebrow. A devilish grin danced across his
lips whenever the man seemed to battle with himself internally for a bit, but -
albeit reluctantly - the man took the money, eyes narrowing. Victory was, once
again, Jack's. And he let it show in the manner he composed himself; back
straight, shoulders back, grin in place. The man watched him. At least, from
what Jack could tell with his back turned. He just had that feeling those aged
eyes were boring into him. It didn't bother him, though. He still didn't make a
move for the boy's room. Instead he turned towards the door and walked out.
Yes, if the way he got a bit dizzy was any indication, he wanted that boy. But
not right now. He didn't have the time nor the preparations for it - and he
still hadn't found the right reasons to justify doing things like that to the
other. Yes, even Jack had morals, even if they were a bit malleable.
 
Jack only looked back at the shitty house whenever he had ducked into his car.
The windows were tinted, so he felt another surge of power as he watched the
man gawk at him. He wasn't going to take the boy today - he just wanted to be
sure he could.
 
His car began pulling out and away from the house and down rows and rows of
trailers houses and other forms of portable homes, and Jack was grinning to
himself as he watched the man's house disappear behind him. Jack was still
grinning whenever he looked forward and there was something more than just
victory in that expression. More so like he was coming to a pleasing
conclusion, that some ideology he had just been confirmed.
 
Money really could buy everything.
***** Drugs *****
Chapter Summary
     Just a bit of family drama between Jack and Timothy, paranoia,
     cryptic messages, Jack getting fucked up on booze and various drugs,
     some random bits of Axton thrown in there, and all that good stuff.
Chapter Notes
     No Rhys in this chapter. :c
     But he WILL be showing up next chapter, so no worries there. ;)
     Thought I'd add a bit of a shitty plot and throw in some more
     characters and whatnot.
     Just a heads up, though. I haven't really planned any of this
     through, and so I don't have any chapters already set and ready to
     go. So updates will be sporadic.
     Enjoy!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
With the morning and all it entailed was left on the back burner of his mind
for the rest of the day. Jack had some more important things on his mind than a
drug dealer and its androgynous - tempting - offspring. Like showing his own
father he was completely capable of running the company whenever it came time.
He at least needed to show him that he was more capable than his twin was.
Where Timothy was more friendly and welcoming, he lacked in follow through.
Mostly because he was a complete pushover. Jack got things done, which
inevitably stuck him with his ruthless reputation. He couldn't imagine the
trouble they'd be in if Timothy took over, being such a pacifist. Few things
worried him, but watching their father's legacy tank was one of them.
 
And, despite his confidence, not being in control of the money the company had
graced him growing up also worried him somewhat. Ole TimTams and him weren't on
the best of terms unfortunately, so Jack wouldn't be surprised that, if he lost
- which was very unlikely - that Tim would cut and all ties to the company off.
 
So Jack just needed to make sure that losing wasn't possible.
 
Jack spent the day kissing ass and making shit happen. Most of his
relationships with company associates were good, if not great. One thing about
being the more trouble making of the two, it made you more interesting to be
around. All of these men and women had been tied down by their responsibilities
and most of them had forgotten how to actually live. Though it wasn't exactly
professional, Jack made it so they let their hair down a little in their
personal life. Being their life coach wasn't exactly what he signed up for, but
it worked. And sometimes - unfortunately for them, but oh-so-good for him -
they would take things a step too far. Use company spending for their illegal
extracurricular activities, use fronts, and various other things that would
make for some juicy scandals.
 
He had no problem sleeping at night. Smart business men and women cover their
tracks, idiots. . . well, everyone knows what happens to them. Jack's been
apart of his share of potential scandals, but he's always been an expert at
covering his tracks. Sure, rumors were still spread, and his reputation wasn't
as shiny and clean as his twin's, but there was no proof behind any of the
claims. And in Jack's eyes, that made them irrelevant.
 
After a long, exhausting day, he was finally able to take a load off and check
out the competition. Timothy's office was in an entirely different wing of the
company building. Both of which were equally powerful, but whenever Jack passed
the offices and cubicles of the other workers, he got a lot of stares. All of
which he didn't mind, of course, but it just went to show how different the two
of them were. How the gravity of their father's impending decision affected
them.
 
Not bothering to check in first, Jack bypassed the secretary who looked a bit
flustered and unsure, and casually strolled into his brother's office, shoving
his hands into the pockets of his suit. As the door swung shut behind him,
Timothy looked up. Surprisingly, a smile crossed his twin's features, a
friendly twinkle in his eye. "Oh, Jack! Nice to see you."
 
Jack tried not to roll his eyes. Tim had always been good at keeping up
appearances, so much more civilized than him even behind closed doors. This was
just kind of what they did; even if no eyes were on them, they smiled and had
polite conversations. It was what everyone wanted to see on the surface,
including their dad; some friendly conversation.
 
"Do you need something?" Timothy asked, raising an eyebrow in inquiry.
 
The man smirked, running his fingers through his hair. "Just came in to check
on my little brother."
 
"You're older than me by three minut-" Tim started, but Jack just simply raises
a hand somewhat to stop him.
 
"Still older." He flashed a grin.
 
Tim just shook his head, shuffling together a stack of papers and straightening
them on his desk before clasping his hands together and looking up and over at
his twin with expectant eyes. "What do you want?" He questioned. It wasn't
accusatory or presumptuous the way he said it - another thing Jack hated about
the other. It was why, when people got to know him, they liked him so much more
than him long-term. Jack was always a blast in the moment, but Tim was always
there in the long run.
 
Jack could play nice, too.
 
Jack scoffed. "I can't just come to see my beloved baby brother?" He put a hand
over his heart dramatically, clutching lightly - he didn't want to wrinkle his
tie. "It hurts, TimTams. It hurts."
 
"You're incorrigible, you know that?"
 
"Oh, incorrigible, huh? Learn that word today, Pumpkin?"
 
"Jesus." Tim sighed, pinching the bridge of his freckled nose exasperatedly.
 
The eldest chuckled, straightening out his suit. He cocked an eyebrow. "Have
you eaten yet?"
 
"Hmm?" Tim looked up. "Oh. Uh, no. Not yet, but I was going to have my PA bring
me something once I got through a few more of these." He gestured to the
paperwork he'd just neatly stacked.
 
"Well, get your purse, Pumpkin. We're getting lunch," Jack grinned. Whenever
Tim looked more uncertain than sold, he decided to sweeten the deal. "My
treat."
 
Apprehensive, Timothy sat up a little in his seat, looking at the work on his
desk as he gnawed on his lower lip - a habit that, thankfully, both of them
didn't have. Finally, looking decided, he got up. "Fine then," He said, running
a hand down the front of his suit to flatten the creases. "But only because
you're paying."
===============================================================================
There was one thing Jack couldn't really deny about being around his twin; he
enjoyed himself somewhat. Underneath all of that envy and bad blood, Tim was
still his brother, his twin, and being around him for extended periods of time
never failed to remind him of that. It was irritating. This one man could hold
so much power over his emotions, over what he did and what he felt while he was
around him. They said that twins held a stronger bond than that of just
brothers or sisters. And right they were. At times Jack wished he could just
sever the bond between them and be normal, back-stabbing brothers, but
unfortunately he couldn't. Other times he was somewhat thankful for the bond
they shared, however minute the gratefulness was. It made him feel something
that had always been there, but something that he'd never gotten used to in all
of their years together. To this day he still couldn't tell you what it was
that he felt, but it was there anyway.
 
It felt silly when Jack was around Timothy, the competition that had grown
between the both of them. Tim never failed to put him at ease - even a paranoid
man like himself. But once Jack got his mind to himself again, when it was
quiet enough to think, the ease slipped away and the paranoia would always
wiggle its way back in. They may act civil, but in their actions that wasn't
the case at all. Perhaps to others the competition for CEO of the company
between the two of them seemed unnecessary - if one got the job, the other
could just work under him - but that just didn't seem possible. At least, not
for Jack. And Jack doubted that Timothy would work under him. The both of them
had a lot in common with one another and their stubbornness and pride was one
of them. Even if Tim was better at hiding it.
 
Needless to say, it was a conflicting lunch. They talked about everything, but
nothing at all. Small talk. Some verging on business talk, but never touching
the subject fully. Tim told him about how amazing his burger was - yes, even
they indulged in commoner food - and Jack countered him with how he didn't know
what he was missing; pretzels were so much better. Tim just chuckled and
continued eating, cleverly informing Jack that pretzels weren't an actual meal.
The eldest just shook it off, enjoying his nutritious meal in defiant silence.
 
"Are you celebrating tonight?" Timothy questioned, eyes twinkling with a faint
form of curiosity.
 
The inquiry caught Jack off guard, and his eyebrows drew together in his own
kind of curiosity. "What's the occasion?"
 
"The deal you scored," Tim elaborated, taking a sip of his pop. He swallowed.
"Everyone in the office is talking about it. It's a pretty big deal."
 
"Oh, that," Jack sighed, resting his elbows on the table. He'd scored a pretty
major deal with a company their father had been trying to get on their team for
years, but had never succeeded. It was safe to say that it earned him mega
points towards the promotion, but the amount of time and effort it had taken
him to metaphorically worm his way into bed with the guy made it seem almost
like it had never been worth it. Obviously not enough to make it worthy of a
celebration, and seeing as Jack never really had to have a reason to party,
that was saying something. "Doesn't feel like a victory. Damn guy wouldn't know
easy if it hit him in the face."
 
Tim chuckled softly, dabbing the corners of his mouth with the cheap napkins
this fine establishment had provided. "Well, you got it done. That's what
matters."
 
Jack half-smirked, honestly unsure of the correct response. "What can I say?"
He shrugged, overly nonchalant. "I'm a badass."
 
The rest of the lunch was fine. They continued talking, tip-toeing around the
work subject, the promotion that would make and break their lives. Timothy
seemed a little off the longer they talked, though, and it made Jack wonder.
Suspicion crept in whenever Tim's brow furrowed and twitched - subtle and
totally undetectable to anyone but him. It was one of his many tells. It
concerned Jack somewhat, not knowing whether something was on Tim's mind, or if
he was just flat out lying to him about something. Whatever the case may be, it
was obvious Timothy wasn't telling him something, and it was putting Jack on
edge.
 
"Somethin' on your mind, TimTams?" Jack asked casually, deciding it was best
not to hide that he knew something was going on.
 
"What? Oh, no-" Tim shook his head. Liar, Jack thought viciously. "I-uh. Lots
of work I need to catch up on. Beginning of the month and all, you know how
that goes."
 
That he did. "Hm," Not that Jack believed a word of it.
 
"Speaking of which, I should probably start heading back. Like I said, lots of
wor-" Tim started to get up, getting out his wallet and fumbling for a few
bills to pay for the lunch. Something was definitely up.
 
Interrupting him, Jack held up his hand, his other digging in his suit jacket
and pulling out his own wallet. "My treat," He waved the money in his hand a
bit for emphasis. "Remember?"
 
"Ah, haha, yeah. Sorry," Tim apologized, folding his wallet and clumsily
stuffing it back into his pocket. "Well, see you at the office?"
 
"What's the rush?" Jack laughed, arching an eyebrow.
 
"Sorry, I just- uhm," Tim ran a hand through his hair. "I just gotta go, okay?"
 
Jack opened his mouth, but his brother was already turning around, so he just
let out a sigh, looking down at their food. Tim hadn't even finished his
burger, had barely touched his fries. That's when Jack looked up again, saw
Timothy coming back towards him.
 
Tim put a hand on the table, looking at him with that serious, almost concerned
look he had always been able to pull off so well. "Jack?"
 
"Yeah?" Jack almost laughed, confused and slightly amused by Timothy's
composer.
 
"Don't party too hard tonight, alright?" He was gravely serious.
 
Jack knitted his eyebrows together, smirk falling somewhat. "Who said I was-"
 
"Just don't. Okay?" Tim said, and paused for a moment. Jack just. . . nodded.
Then, just like that, he was off again.
 
Through the window Jack could peered out of, he witnessed Tim hailing a taxi.
Jack watched as Tim disappeared into the back of a yellow cab, then as it drove
off and merged with the other cars. All he could do was sit there for a moment,
still absorbing the seriousness that was Tim. Seriously on something, that was.
Like, really. What the hell did he take? There seemed to be a double meaning
behind what he'd said, further than just friendly concern. Like he was in grave
danger or something. Jack couldn't help but laugh at the theatricality of the
situation before gathering his own things to leave.
 
He'd get TWICE as fucked up tonight, just for his beloved TimTams.
===============================================================================
This night it wasn't Jack who had to arrange the party, which was a-okay with
him. After the last few weeks he'd had, the less work, the better. He was at
his buddy Axton's house; Axton was an important friend of the company's,
therefore an important friend of Jack's. So, who was he to decline the nice
man's invitation? A plus side was that there were little people he would know,
or ever even WANT to know, there, so he was free to live a little and relax.
Despite having no qualms about his own personal life, putting up a wall between
himself and others concerning business was commonplace with him. A habit,
instinct. Another thing he liked about this Axton guy was that he kept things
on the DL, but still knew how to have a good time.
 
Jack had already been there for a couple hours at this point, and he was beyond
fucked up. Still somewhat coherent and aware of some of his surroundings, but
overall out of his mind. They were on the outskirts of the city, so the music
that blared and shook the very establishment they were all in went under the
radar. All of the shouts and squeals were drowned out into the void of sound.
Jack couldn't even hear himself think with all of the noise; only that of the
words said right in his immediate area, and only then if they were shouts. He
could hear his heartbeat, surprisingly, as blood pounded in his ears.
 
The man wasn't entirely sure of what all was going on. Drugs, definitely drugs.
There was dancing; when he was fucked up enough, he even partook in it a bit
himself. He saw people on whatever surfaces they could find practically
chomping at the bit to get some action from whomever was willing enough to give
them the time of day. Men and women alike had taken to dancing provocatively on
tabletops, some of them, specifically the males, were only partially dressed as
they did so. Where their clothes went, no one could be certain, but no one
really cared.
 
It was easy for Jack to give way to the steady thump of the music and how he
could feel everything and nothing all at once. It wasn't until a hand touched
his shoulder that he was pulled from chasm of forgotten responsibility. No at
first. It took the hand spinning him around for there to be any sort of change.
A familiar set of green eyes stared back at him.
 
"Axton!" Jack shouted over the music with a laugh, clapping a hand at the back
of the other's shoulder. "Was wondering where the hell you went!"
 
The other laughed, hardly a rumble in the commotion. "Was getting the back set
up," He told him. Axton brushed the tip of his nose a couple of times. "You
ready to really party?"
 
There was a nagging feeling at the back of his mind just then, the most
rational feeling he'd had since he'd had his first drink of the evening, but he
quickly disregarded it and followed Axton through the crowd of grinding bodies.
Now wasn't the time for rational thinking or a moral check. This was something
he did often, taking no prisoners. He knew his limits, as few as he had, and
he'd gotten used to restricting himself to them. As wild as he got, he was in
control of himself unlike many other participants to the parties he'd go to. He
had to be; he was too important, even if he was faceless - much to his own
dismay - in a crowd as messed up as this. As much as Jack would love to get
shitfaced some days, he never could. Not with so much on the line.
 
But sometimes - a lot of the time - he found ways to get what he wanted and
protect his assets.
 
The back room, once the doors behind them closed, was like a completely
different world. Separated from the party, only few were in here and they were
lounging. One looked almost comatose, body limp and face slack as his body laid
sprawled half-on, half-off the couch. Judging from the tourniquet wrapped
tightly around the man's arm, Jack was pretty sure he was into the heavier
stuff. That's not to say Jack didn't do things similar, but scag? Definitely
not something he'd wanna get hooked on.
 
A table sat amongst the clean room with a couple of people already there.
Nobody Jack knew or would ever care to know. Axton pulled up a seat for him and
then himself, pulling out the stuff. He used a flat edge to separate the lines,
then drew back and admired his work for a moment. Jack's leg was already
bouncing with anticipation, waiting a little less than patiently for Axton to
get them started. That's went the mirror was carefully pushed his way.
 
"Care to do the honors?" Axton's lips curled into a smirk as he handed him a
single rolled dollar.
 
"Oh, fuck yes." Jack kept his language surprisingly clean considering his
personality, but he believed that something that got him this excited called
for it. Even if he was doing it with a few nobodies. Save for Axton. . . for
the most part, anyway.
 
Jack had gotten to his third line, the rest just their second, by the time the
music abruptly stopped. He'd been having fevered visions of that boy in those
oh-so-tight shorts and not the woman beside him who seemed more than willing to
give him what he needed for the night. He wasn't sure why; all of their
interactions had been like the ones just earlier that day except with less
talking and more defiant, almost coy looks, like he was trying to challenge him
and seduce him at the same time. Or maybe that was just what he wanted to see.
Third line in and he had already convinced himself that he wanted him in that
filthy wrong way. He was practically vibrating in his seat with the kind of
energy he'd love to spend on that boy. But all those bad, sweet images were
practically yanked from him whenever the music had stopped. Whenever another
completely different and more desperate mood permeated the air.
 
It had been muffled in this room, but loud all the same, so when it was gone, a
hole had been left in the space. It was big enough to make them all stop and
listen. Axton was the first to stand, to go to the doors and investigate. He
pushed open the door ever so slightly, peering out. People were running, even
with Jack's heart racing the way it was, he could hear it clear as day. Could
hear the shouts and commotion. Axton shut the door quickly. Through the closed
door, the word "police" was still heard.
 
Jack had never run so fast in his life.
Chapter End Notes
             I'm excited about the next chapter. Ｏ(≧▽≦)Ｏ muahaha.
End Notes
                      Thanks for reading, you poor bean!
                          Tell me what you think? :p
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