by Thea Archer
Again, Ian was accompanied by his protégé; Arthur leaned against his shoulder while Ian crossed his arms tightly across his chest.
Though Ian was not the tallest and definitely not the biggest here — he was rather slender, a little shorter than my 181 cm — it was always easy to spot him even in a crowd of dozens of people.
I felt a prick of irritation — Ian looked untidy, his hair was tousled more than usual, and his shirt was sloppily untucked. I supposed they still found a way to 'make up for all lost time.'
"You look like you want to stab someone with a pencil," Evi said, and I looked away awkwardly.
"Sorry..."
"Is Ian bothering you again?"
"No, not really."
Evi smiled but didn't say anything.
The truth was I liked her, with the rare exceptions of her patronizing attacks. But I believed it had something to do with her profession: she'd served on the police force for seven years, and she'd been strictly trained to depend on the rules, no matter how absurd they were. But regardless of the situation, she'd always apologized for her accusations, and her sincerity didn't allow me — as well as the others who had come across her rough temper — to be angry with her for a long time.
"Um... our emotions... do you think they are real here? I mean affection..." I cleared my throat and added. "Or love."
"You're the second person who asked me this question. Well... I believe so. We can feel all the range of emotion we used to feel when we were alive. You still love your mother and your brother, right? And your cat as well."
"Yes. You're right, I guess."
"Why are you asking?"
"Ah, um... Arthur. He's... did you know he is Ian's ex?"
"Oh. Such an unexpected choice," Evi said. "Arthur doesn't look like a person with a sense of humor."
"I don't think their relationship was about that, you know," I honestly admitted.
"In any case, it's none of our business," Evi shrugged.
I swiftly looked away.
It's none of my business?
She was right, of course.
"You said that I'm the second person who asked you that... Who was the first one?" I asked after a second of hesitation.
"Ian."
Ian...
11. CHARTER BROKER
"Fifteen... Twenty... Twenty-five... Why are all these... Wait, these are dossiers of the recent arrivals?"
I ruffled my hair nervously.
"Well, yeah…"
Moritz stared at me, confusion touching his eyes.
I was struggling to scramble for an excuse.
"They are... Um..."
"It's pretty embarrassing."
I startled by a sudden Judith voice in my ear.
Her gentle hand patted my head before I saw her playful smirk.
She threw her arm around Moritz and grinned, exposing all her perfect, glistening teeth.
"Sven just doesn't want to go to the Archive," she said, her face brilliant with joy.
"What? That's ridiculous." But I answered too quickly.
"Why?" Moritz glanced at Judith blankly.
"Because Ian and Arthur are there."
"Oh." Moritz frowned.
I swallowed my irritation. "You know this is not true," I said, trying to make my voice even.
Moritz ignored me; he turned to Judith for more details.
"But why?"
Judith giggled at my expression.
"Because somehow he gets furious when he sees them together," she replied.
My irritation flaring, I felt panicky.
"No—"
"Oh, I see. So he's jealous?" Moritz asked casually.
"That's right," Judith's grin was full of mocking.
"Nonsense!" I wailed. It was like I wasn't there.
"So you do like him?" Moritz addressed me directly now, with evident curiosity in his expression.
"No!" I exclaimed, but they didn't seem to be paying any attention to me.
"Yes, of course, he does," Judith said.
"It's all right; I'm not like Matthias," Moritz assured me. "My little sister is a lesbian, so I'm totally fine with it."
That's not the point!
"I don't... What the... you two!"
I could still attempt to defend myself against their mockery, but I knew they would find a hole in any of my miserable defenses.
Angrily, I flashed a glance at Judith's smug face and grabbed a stack of folders.
"I'm taking them to the Archive," I said to Moritz.
I turned from them and strode swiftly toward the Archive; Judith laughed behind my back; Moritz said something else, but I couldn't hear him clearly over my own furious thoughts.
What was wrong with them? When did I give them the ludicrous impression that I like him?
I absolutely did not care what Ian was doing, and with whom, that was none of my concern.
I paused with my hand on the doorknob, trying not to think about what I could see behind the door. In the end, it was a damned purgatory, not a swinger club, besides I had responsibilities I couldn't shirk.
"You're pathetic."
I wanted so badly to run, but I was frozen. Ian's voice outside the door sounded contemptuous, vicious, sharp.
"Am I?" Arthur's voice followed — quiet and strained.
"Even after death, the only thing that makes you feel like a human being is hurting others," Ian said.
It was the second time I'd ever heard he speaks so viciously.
"So, what about you?" Arthur said. "As far as I know, only a huge cock in your ass makes you feel like a human being."
"Rot in hell."
I had to leave. I knew I had to leave, but I stayed paralyzed.
"So, Sven gives you all you need?"
I flinched as he said my name.
"He's not like you."
"Oh, so maybe I should tell him? About your turn-ons... About how happy you are when you taste your own blood..."
"Don't you dare..."
I felt faintly nauseated; although I knew that this was only an illusion, it felt too real.
"Do you like him that much?"
"Don't touch me."
"Come on. You're not even trying to resist."
"You broke up with me, remember?"
"You would've done the same. You didn't forget what you've become, did you?"
There was very quiet; I strained to catch the sounds — a barely audible rustle against the background of erratic breathing.
"Come on, you always liked that ..."
"You disgust me."
I twitched as I heard a thud.
"It hurts. Let me go! Leave me..."
"Shut up."
"Arthur, no!"
Ian gasped, and I threw the door open.
The folders slipped out of my hands, as I saw Arthur was pressing Ian against the floor, his left hand was squeezing Ian's throat while another was in Ian's pants. Ian wasn't able to look at me — he squeezed his eyes tight, clutching Arthur's hand, hoping to ease his grip.
"Get out," Arthur roared, glaring at me.
I loped quickly over to them, closing the distance in three long strides; the rage reigned in my head, clouding everything else out.
"He said no," I snarled and grabbed around the collar of Arthur's shirt to drag him away from Ian. Even though Arthur was big — he was huge, actually — I managed somehow to yank him off Ian, but the moment his hands were free, I felt burning sharp pain in my jaw as he punched me.
"You son of a bitch," Arthur roared, but I was too furious to speak; I clenched my right hand into a hard fist and hit him in the mouth.
I glanced at Ian, who was still lying curled up on the floor with pages of dossiers scattered in a rustling mess around him, he was clutching his throat with a right hand, and the other hand was pressed against his crotch; the pain distorted his expression.
"You bastard..." I growled at Arthur; I had no strength left to control the anger, I pulled my arm back for another pun
ch, but Arthur's hard fist smashed into my face again.
I had completely lost control of the situation — there was a furious scuffle, and it didn't look like I was winning — Arthur was much stronger than I. I believed I was still standing on my feet only because my current body was indestructible, although the pain I felt was genuine and exhausting. If it was the real, alive fight between Arthur and me, I'd already been unconscious.
Arthur growled as a crushing blow struck my stomach, the breath whooshed out of me in one millisecond.
"Get off of him!" I heard Ian's voice as Arthur was clenching the collar of my shirt in his fingers, expertly dodging my fists.
"I said, don't touch him..." A snarl came from behind Arthur; Ian grabbed a fistful of Arthur's hair and jerked back his head.
Arthur hit Ian with an elbow throwing him backward like a rag doll; Ian lost his balance and fell into the same pile of crumpled papers.
I managed to launch a blow that caught Arthur in his nose, but he seemed to be growing angrier.
"ARTHUR STIEGLITZ AND IAN HASSLER, REPORT TO THE SOUTH GATE."
Arthur and I froze where we stood as Mrs. Angerer's voice came from the ceiling.
"They'll wait," Arthur muttered through his teeth; I took advantage of this brief pause and hit him again. He gasped painfully.
"ARTHUR STIEGLITZ, REPORT TO THE SOUTH GATE FOR DEPARTURE," I recognized Evi's irked voice.
Arthur flinched, his hand froze on my neck.
Could it be...
"You..." Arthur growled; another crushing blow struck my chest — I flew backward, and then slammed my back against the table. I groaned as pain pierced my lower back.
Arthur abruptly turned away, it seemed he was going to approach Ian again, but he only flashed another glare toward him and headed to the exit.
The door slammed behind him, and I gazed up at Ian, who was on his feet again, clutching a pencil in his left hand as if he was about to stab Arthur with it; a crumpled dossier was squeezed in his other hand.
"I need..." He exhaled, waving the folder toward the door.
I nodded and took a deep breath, leaning my head back against the table, staring at the soaring ceiling and waiting until the pain vanished.
***
I wasn't sure how long I was sitting on the Archive floor, gathering pages of dossiers of people who died dozens of years ago. It seemed like a couple of hours. Somehow, Arthur had managed to tip one rack with the folders, so now the floor was covered with the messed up and wrinkled pages.
Hundreds of useless or frightening facts about dead people were floating before my eyes — from buying a house to killing — but I couldn't get interested in any of them: one person entirely occupied my thoughts.
Arthur's words I'd heard behind closed door swirled around in my head, triggering something dark and anguish in me; I was waiting for the fear to come, but all I could feel was an ache.
"One hundred thirty-fourth... thirty-fifth..." I mumbled under my breath, thumbing through the pages.
'Well, well, don't look at me like I'm trash. It makes me hard.'
So basically, these words were not a joke? Of course, I wasn't going to ask Ian about his relationship with Arthur, but I couldn't shake those thoughts out of my head either. Not because it seemed loathsome to me, but because it made me anxious.
"Hey..."
I shivered involuntarily and sharply looked up.
It was Ian.
"Hi," I said and smiled faintly. "I didn't hear you come in."
He smiled too, but that his smile didn't seem as triumphant as usual, it was rather gentle, embarrassed maybe.
He looked neat, and his shirt was buttoned and tucked into trousers; his expression was rather calm. Now I knew why he was so untidy and exhausted — that wasn't about passionate embraces, but systematic beatings.
"What a mess I've made here," he said and sat on the floor beside me. "You can leave it to me; I'll put together the rest."
"It's all right," I said dismissively. "But I can use some help."
"Sure."
A few minutes passed in quietness, other than the rustle of paper.
"I'm..." Ian murmured, looking timidly in my direction. "I'm so sorry for what I put you through."
"Come on. I started it."
"He is strong. I can tell."
I couldn't answer yet. Then, after a moment of hesitation, I spoke again. "You... are you okay?"
"Well, I'm not sure I'm alive, but nothing hurts."
He tried to keep his tone joking, but he didn't fool me.
"That's not what I'm talking about, you know."
He nodded, smiling, although his face was dejected.
"Ian..." I said and reached out to touch his cheek; Ian blinked, his face going blank with surprise.
He smiled again; his expression became soft, warm.
"Sorry, Am... Sven. I'm so sorry about all this." The papers, clenched in his tense fingers crumpled.
"Amery is fine. If it's... If it's you."
Ian looked into my face, surprised at my smile.
"I'm fine," I had the feeling that he was forcing himself to say that. "It's... After all, it's all my fault. Our relationship... You know he is not the ex you would text while being drunk. I can't believe it... I died, but he found me here. What an irony, huh?" he said, but he wouldn't meet my eyes.
"And..." The question stuck in my throat.
"Paradise," he answered my thought.
"That fucker..." I croaked.
He grinned bitterly, and I clutched at the opportunity to look him in the face.
"It's my fault..." he said again. "We... Back then, it was me who asked him to do all those things. Ever since I can remember, I was a submissive. Pain is my constant, it has always been my only support. But for some reason... for the first time, I was scared when I'm already dead. Isn't that funny?"
His eyes met mine, and they were pained.
"No."
"I'm such an idiot," he said.
"No," I repeated.
His fingers loosened, the pages fell out of them, sliding a soft wave across the floor.
Ian's shoulders slumped as he dropped his gaze at his lap.
"I am so sorry," his weary voice broke; it nearly caused me physical pain.
I gently touched the back of his head and, unable to cope with emotions shot through me at that moment, I pulled him to me and wrapped my arms around him.
"I'm sorry..." he whispered against my chest. "I'm so sorry."
"It's all right. Really. Is there anything I could do to make you feel better?"
He shook his head, and I stroked his rough hair.
"Please... Don't despise me."
"My feeling for you is the same," I said. "You... You annoy me as before."
I could feel that he was laughing, and I leaned down to press my cheek to the top of his head.
He hesitantly hugged me back.
I liked it. I needed it.
12. MAGNETIC DEVIATION
"...Scorpio, be good and stop annoy your neighbor, your vile clingy temper troubles everyone, leave your friends alone for at least a day or two, okay? Sagittarius should be more careful with kitchen utensils, so if you decided to bake a pumpkin pie today — you shouldn't, there is a chance to get injured with a knife, fork, pickaxe or what you like to cook with, you passive-aggressive bastards..."
I leaned against the doorjamb, looking at Ian standing behind the information desk, his shirt was deeply unbuttoned; every time I saw him he wore his shirt differently: popped collar, half-tucked hem or even knotted front.
"Capricorns, you should try not to hit on women who a thousand years younger than you, I mean, what's wrong with you?"
Moritz looked down, ashamed; Judith laughed, clapping her hands together, the charming sound of her laugh made us all join in.
"Aquarius..." Ian continued, enjoying himself. "Everything's extremely steady, same as it's been for about six years. Cheer up, Aquarius!"
Evi rolle
d her eyes.
"Pisces, stop yelling and fighting, you should take anger management classes, some Leo has a headache because of your grumble."
Matthias sniffed disdainfully, and I suppressed a smile.
Ian's gaze caught me, a smile on half of his face.
Shit.
"Aries should be cautious of the ones who they turn their backs on. There is a huge possibility that today someone is going to smack your butt at the most unexpected moment."
I pursed my lips, feeling every pair of eyes in the terminal turned to stare at me. Ian continued his made-up overview, and I risked a glance up at his face again. I studied his features with a strange sense of anxiety; I mentally went through our past conversation again. I couldn't get over the feeling that I found out about something he ashamed of, afraid maybe, something he'd never intended me to know. As if one word could shatter the image that he created to protect his fragile self.
"Well, Leos are charming, as always, and deeply in love; there is a big chance to be kissed by a guy whose name starts with 'a' and ends with 'mery.' Oh no, that's not about you, Johannes, sorry, your Venus was retrograde when you were born." The broad smile exposed Ian's perfect teeth; I sighed and folded my arms across my chest.
"So we come to the end of the special edition of 'Horoscope for the day,' and I hope you will be with me again tomorrow, which is, by the way, will never come."
Despite quite a sullen hint in his last words, a lot of transfers laughed, and someone even clapped as Ian got up from behind the desk and headed toward the Archive, shoving his hands deep in his pockets.
"In the Archive again?" Judith mumbled just beside me. "He hasn't come out of the Archive recently..."
I shrugged vaguely.
She was right, Ian hadn't left the Archive lately, except when he'd gotten bored with being alone or when he'd wanted some attention. He hardly looked up at me, sitting in piles of hundreds of dossiers whenever I came by the Archive.
Ian had been keeping a lot of secrets, and for some reason, I furiously wanted to know them. I didn't even notice when I had become interested in him and definitely didn't know why; I felt overwhelming embarrassment at the thought of my unhealthy curiosity.
But it seemed to me that I knew at least one person Ian was honest with.
I glanced at Annika, who'd volunteered to meet a newcomer from the South Gate and remembered the conversation she had had with Ian.