by H M Wolfe
''The legendary mix that helped Elliott through two pregnancies? The fuel of life Christine mentions with so much reverence?'' Warrick's eyes widened, shining with mischief and pure, childish delight. ''It looks like today is my lucky day because Vin and Vale are also coming here to spend some quality time with me and get to know you better.''
Sebastian and Vincent exchanged a knowing look, shaking their heads, while they silently prayed to the deities. They were asking for Warrick to enjoy a peaceful, relaxing day. One that could help him forget, if only for a short time, about those dark events in the past that had resurfaced to trouble his existence.
However, because of Vinson and Valeran's hostile attitude towards their father and the men he shared the house and bed with, it was unlikely for that to happen. The thing that pained them the most was that the two never offered a plausible explanation for their behavior, steadfastly refusing all their father's invitations of coming to the villa and bringing the kids with them.
Sure, after Vinson got well, he paid their father a courtesy visit, thanking him for financially supporting his cancer treatment. Still, the gratitude in his voice was forced, more a polite formality. He was accompanied by Valeran, who was equally cold and reserved, hiding his true feelings under a mask of politeness.
Vincent loved Daniel, Hayden, Mattias, and Claran with all his heart and soul, but sometimes, deep inside, the man longed to have with his sons the same kind of relationship his lovers had with theirs. Only Warrick accepted being loved by his father, loving him back, and the man was extremely grateful for that.
While Vincent was lost in that introspective journey, his son dozed off, head on Sebastian's chest, a peaceful smile on his face. It matched the one on the loving father's lips. However, it wasn't a long nap, because the subtle aroma of the food Nicholas and Joraan brought from the kitchen made Warrick's nostrils flare, waking him up.
He attacked the tasty, gazpacho soup, moaning in delight each time the spoon passed his lips. He then cut into a generous portion of chicken in lemon sauce. The four men were affectionately looking at how focused Vincent's son was with the food, cutting the slices and taking them to his lips, chewing and enjoying them. In the end, to the hosts' delight, Warrick licked his plate clean with the help of a slice of bread.
''Oh, boy! I'm so full that I think I'm not going to eat for a week straight.'' the young man said, running his palm up and down his belly. ''It looks like a baby bump, doesn't it?'' he grinned as he let out a small burp.
''A tiny one,'' Joraan smiled. ''I'm happy you liked it. We would like you to come over more, so we can practice our cooking skills more often. These two over here are too easy; anything does it for them.''
''It seems that Vin and Vale are here, too. I'm going to greet them.'' Vincent's voice was vibrant, his eyes shining. ''Hello, boys, long time no see,'' he opened his arms.
''Hello, sir. It's nice to see you,'' Vinson replied in a not-so-convincing voice. His hug was cold, formal, and quick, but the older man was still grateful for it.
''How are you? And where is Warrick? His partner said that...'' Valeran started, only to be cut short by a familiar voice.
''Over here, little brother. You too, big bro,'' the young man appeared from behind his father, arms widely opened. ''Time for a cuddle puddle,'' he gave his brothers a melancholic smile. ''Is it just me, or have the two of you lost some weight? It's time to put some meat on your skinny asses. Let's feed you!''
''Thanks for the invite, but we had quite a hearty breakfast this morning,'' Vinson said, but the smells coming from the kitchen made his stomach grumble. ''OK, maybe a bit wouldn't hurt.'' He shrugged, trying to look indifferent.
''I'll take a bit, too.'' Valeran joined his brother, offering the hosts a tentative smile. ''It smells delicious, whatever it is.''
''Gazpacho and chicken in lemon sauce. They're your brother's favorites,'' Nicholas answered, going to the kitchen to get clean plates.
''Enjoy, boys, and eat to your heart's contentment,'' Joraan wished them, in the same affectionate voice he used for Warrick.
The two nodded a thank you, then started to eat, cautiously at first, then digging into the food with the same enthusiasm their brother had earlier. As they were eating, guilt washed over Vinson. He was thinking about how he and Valeran hadn't the slightest idea about their brother's preferences, food or otherwise. All while Warrick knew everything about theirs, without asking.
And suddenly, the realization hit him with the force of a hurricane: he saw them, but the favor was never returned. For the two and their mother, the quiet boy was invisible all his life. No one paid attention to him, not really, anyway. Warrick wasn't reserved, didn't keep things hidden by nature. He'd become like that over the years when his family had started to get used to him being the mature one—the one who always took care of things.
From time to time, Vinson cast glances in his brother's direction, examining him. Although the haunted, dead stare was gone, some of the emptiness still lingered in his eyes. That look made the other man wonder if he didn't put on a happy face every time Ian was around, to induce him into a false sensation of security at the thought that his sub was back on track.
''That was what I call food.'' Valeran broke the silence that had started to become uncomfortable. ''Real, homemade, tasty food, not like the food you cook.'' He flashed a grin to his brother.
''Well, that's exactly what I was about to say.'' Vinson's reply came on the spot, much to the group's amusement.
''Maybe we should do this more often,'' Warrick suggested, a shadow of a smile playing on his pale lips. ''You can also bring the kiddies next time. There are a lot of other children they can play with.''
''I'm afraid that's not possible, with our busy schedule and all. Besides, they have a lot of homework and other school stuff, especially Wilmot.'' Vinson hesitantly spoke. The man hated to break his brother's heart, but he didn't want to give those four the satisfaction, to make them think they'd won.
''It's OK. I understand.'' Warrick replied in a voice he tried to make sound indifferent without much success. ''Speaking of, how are my nephew and niece? I miss them a lot.'' He managed another pale smile.
''They miss you, too. Wilmot is still as serious and hard-working as ever. As for Marinette, well, that one's turned into a real diva. Nothing of what Vale or I do is good enough for her, and God forbid even to try to suggest any of her other clothes would be more suitable than the ones she picks.''
''The little missy sounds like a Bloom if you ask me.'' Sebastian grinned, only to earn a poisonous glare from Vinson.
Under his lover's son's hard stare, the man lowered his head, letting out a sigh. He'd made a massive mistake by saying that the little girl would be a Bloom child, but he didn't intend to hurt her father's feelings. However, it seemed that any mention of his family, no matter how remote it was, created an unpleasant impression on Vinson and his brother.
Maybe, Sebastian thought saddened at the perspective; it was about time for him to admit the truth. In Vinson and Valeran's eyes, he was nothing more than a thief, who stole their father's affection. The man chose him over their devoted mother, turning his back on a vulnerable, pregnant woman, who struggled to raise them by herself.
It wasn't his business to tell them the truth, Sebastian thought. Even if it were, they wouldn't believe him. Also, the two couldn't be completely open and honest with Warrick in his or Vincent's presence, so he discreetly signaled his lover, and, when they thought no one noticed, the men left the room.
''Well, isn't it bad manners for the hosts to leave like that, abandoning their guests?'' Vinson commented a few minutes later when he discovered his father and Sebastian were absent.
''Maybe it's a message.'' Valeran backed up his brother, as he always did. ''I'm sorry, brother, but it seems we are not really wanted here, so it's time for us to...''
''You aren't going anywhere.'' Joraan intervened, his usually gentle voice having a hint of firmness. ''There are a lot o
f misunderstandings to be clarified, and we'll start working on it here and now.''
''The way they left doesn't leave much room to interpretation.'' Vinson's acid reply came, as he rose to his feet, but a persistent stare from Nicholas made him reconsider.
''For the first time, since I met you, I noticed that my Masters Vincent and Sebastian were the targets of your distrust and coldness. Since you wouldn't have believed them, had they told you their version of the story, Master Joraan and I decided to tell it from our perspective. It's time to find out the truth about the events that have affected so many lives and irreversibly changing their course.''
CHAPTER 5
I
n the bathroom, under the shower, Warrick was sitting, curled into a pitiful ball. His arms were desperately wrapped around his knees and tightly hugging them to his chest. The water had gone cold quite a while ago, but that wasn't the cause of the shivers shaking the boy's body. It had started long before he hopped under the showerhead, that had sprayed droplets of hot, steamy water.
The shivers didn't have anything to do with the migraine he'd invoked. In fact, it was a big, fat lie to avoid the crowd downstairs, and look at their happy faces. Fortunately, his mother didn't question him very much, nor did she insist on his presence at the party. The woman had gotten used to having a socially awkward child.
At some point, Warrick shook off some of the numbness that overtook him, and, grabbing the shower gel bottle, squirted a generous amount in his palm, lathering his body, scrubbing his private parts obsessively and especially between his ass cheeks. Then, he rinsed every body part thoroughly, until the coldness of the water became unbearable.
Looking in the mirror as he dried himself, Warrick was horrified by what he saw. His face was no longer that of a carefree teen, but one marred by fear, terror, and self-loathing. The boy considered himself ugly, dirty, used, unworthy of love. At that moment, all he wanted was to disappear from the face of the Earth miraculously.
And then, Warrick saw it. Long, sharp, slim, shiny, tempting. It was placed there, in full display, on the corner of the sink. For a second, the boy wondered how the razor ended up there. In his bathroom, as he hadn't started to shave yet. Most likely, his mother put it there and forgot about it, he thought, shrugging.
Extending his hand, Warrick touched the razor, its coldness soaking into his bones. However, the next second he was running it up and down his wrist, one, two, three times, until the beads of blood formed a rivulet that started to drip into the sink. That was it, the boy thought, looking fascinated at the red fluid draining from his body.
Warrick hoped the tile floor wouldn't be too dirty when he fell to the ground. He hated the thought of someone else cleaning up his mess. However, it would be the first and last time, the boy thought, and then...Then, things would go back to normal, with everyone living their lives and him being forgotten. A name on a tombstone, washed away by rain, eroded by heat.
Suddenly, the sound of voices coming from his brothers' room caught Warrick's attention, making him smile. Those two were always engaged in one silly game or another, still children in so many aspects. However, superficial as they were, Vinson and Valeran cared very much about him, the teenager thought, and his death would leave them devastated.
He couldn't let that happen, Warrick thought, those two were their mother's most precious treasures. While she could do without him, the woman would lose any desire to live if her beloved sons were hurt in any way. He had to go on and live, hiding the shame in his heart like a purulent wound. For Vin and Vale. For his brothers.
''What do you mean by the truth about the events?'' Vinson's voice brought Warrick back from the dangerous, downward spiral reliving the horror he'd endured had set him to. ''Do you insinuate mom lied to us?''
''Not at all,'' Nicholas softly answered. ''I'm just saying Master Vincent didn't know about your existence. Had your mother told him...''
''Yeah, right,'' Valeran sarcastically replied, ''blame it on the pregnant woman now! He turned his back on her to be with...that man,'' he spat. ''That's a cold fact, nothing more, nothing less.''
''Brothers, think about it.'' Warrick intervened, managing to shake off the last traces of slumber. ''Mom favored the two of you precisely because of the great resemblance between you and dad. Do you think she would have been so affectionate with you, had she not loved dad and understood his reasons?''
''More than that,'' Nicholas continued, '' my Masters were only reunited for about one or two years when Warrick first came to their doorstep.''
''How come? I thought they knew each other since their teens.'' Vinson frowned. ''Where were they all this time? Why didn't they get together as soon as mom was out of the picture?''
''When Sebastian was sixteen, he and Vincent ran away together, but returned a couple of weeks later, the kid untouched.'' Joraan continued the story from where Nicholas had left it. ''Under his tyrannical husband's pressure and in a fit of rage, my husband's uncle beat his lover to within an inch of his life. To save Vincent's life, Sebastian swore never to see him again.'' Joraan concluded, in a distressed voice.
''But that's...that's beyond cruel, and inhuman. How could they do that to a mere kid? Brutally separating him from the one he loved must have ripped out his heart.'' Valeran's voice was shaky and compassion-filled. ''I couldn't do it without Vin. I would be lost and...'' he stared into his brother's eyes, terrified by that possibility.
Vinson wrapped an arm around his brother's waist, pulling him closer. The man gently kissed the temple of the one he loved, running the pad of his thumb over Valeran's knuckles, and not giving a damn about what the others may think. Should anyone interfere between him and his beloved, Vinson would fight to the bitter end.
However, he realized how different, in a regretful way, his father's situation was. He was a boy from a disorganized family, who'd served time in a juvenile correctional facility, in love with the descendant of one of the wealthiest, most powerful families in the world. No chance in hell for them to be together, Vinson thought, ashamed of how biased he was.
There were still a lot of questions to be answered, so the young man turned to Joraan, ready to listen to the rest of the story because there was a lot more, he was sure of it.
''What happened then? If my father and Mister Stark only became reunited a few years ago, what did they do during all that time?''
''His family forced Sebastian into an engagement with a rich, aristocratic asshole who mistreated him and even...the poor boy wasn't even of age.''
''The goddamn bastard raped him!? Did he report it to the morons who'd pushed him into that?'' It was Valeran's turn to speak, and his voice was horrified.
''No, he didn't. Sebastian realized that his uncle was also in a bad position and preferred to keep those things to himself. But, at a certain point, he tracked down the only friend he had and asked him for help.''
''Our father,'' Vinson said in a soft voice. ''Was he able to do something for Mister Stark? The risks both of them took must have been enormous, considering the situation.''
''Yes, Vincent took care of the problem once and for all,'' Joraan answered, his voice harsher than usual. ''Then, he decided to keep the promise he made to Sebastian, and changed his life, enrolling in an educational program, specially designed for former juvenile convicts. Through determination and hard work, your father was the top of his class, winning a six months internship at one of the most prestigious financial investment companies in South Africa. There, the course of his and Sebastian's life changed again.''
A small, melancholic smile playing on his lips, Joraan relived the moments when he and Vincent first met, the tenderness that mysterious American intern working for Van Sloot Financial Investment & Counseling showed to him. The then-teen was heartbroken, grieving his mother's death, with no one to turn to for solace, as his father drowned his sorrow in work, and his godmother was busy running the companies in his name.
Opening his heart to Vincent came naturally, a
nd soon the two of them poured their souls into one another's hands, sharing the deepest, most intimate secrets. It was then that Joraan found out about the ill-fated romance between Sebastian Bloom and his almost-boyfriend. And the sadness in the young man's voice and eyes broke the redhead's, sensible heart.
Then, the Fates decided for the three of them again, when Joraan got a position inside the South African embassy at Washington.
''Why didn't our father followed you back to New York?'' Valeran asked, his eyes shining with unshed tears. ''Did the two of you split up?''
''No, nothing like that,'' Joran said in a passionate voice. ''Vincent wasn't...he is not the type to abandon the ones he loves. He was still under contract with my mother's investment company for the internship. Had he left before the contract would come to an end, your father would have had to pay for the whole six months.''
''Oh, I see.'' Valeran nodded in understanding. ''So father had to break up with another man he fell in love with, under the pressure of external factors. Life didn't give him a break, did it?''