The sound of plastic breaking echoed around the otherwise silent library, causing the junior to finally look up from the textbook he’d been buried in for the past few hours and investigate what caused the noise. Turning over his left hand, he stared down at the pen he was holding and noticed the clip was missing. Without realizing what he’d been doing, he’d bent that piece until the plastic gave out and flew somewhere he didn’t know. What if it hit someone?
Right. That was his cue to go.
Quickly packing up his belongings, Merlot hustled towards the nearest staircase and walked down the stairs that would take him to the bustling Manhattan streets of below. The bright sunlight hitting his exhausted eyes caused him to groan audibly and reach into his backpack to pull out a hat. Hat secured, he resumed his walk towards the nearest Subway station.
»»————- ➴ ————-««
Code finally keyed in to the door after a few missed attempts, he kicked it shut behind him tossed his bag onto the nearest surface. Then he walked over to the fridge, now finally realizing just how hungry he was. But it was empty as usual. Just like this stupid penthouse apartment. Though there was furniture, it was sparse and the place was huge, making it feel completely empty and making Merlot hate spending a lot of time here.
The pantry didn’t yield better results, but he did have some cereal. So with a hand down a box of Frosted Mini Wheats, he headed to his bedroom for a much needed nap. He was going to finish his cereal first of course, but then it was nap time.
He had no idea how long he was asleep for, but the sun had already set and it was dark inside his room. Confused as to why he suddenly awoke, he looked down at his phone and saw the alarm going off with a reminder about some meeting at a club. Ah right. That was tonight. In all honesty, he’d forgotten about the meeting and had forgotten about the entire reason behind it due to this upcoming midterm that was stressing him the fuck out. But now he remembered and it was time to get ready.
Shower; check. Hair blown dry; check. Sheer mesh shirt, black velvet blazer, leather pants, black boots; check. Now all that was left was styling his hair. Instead of pulling the long top strands back into the trademarked bun or ponytail he always wore, he decided to change it up. Dipping a comb into gel, Merlot ran it through his hair, slicking it all back until it curled at the back of his neck.
But there was something missing. Something big. Staring into the mirror, he suddenly remembered. Yes, seeing would be nice. Not willing to wear glasses to this meeting, he put in his contacts, blinking until the bright green lenses were in the right place. With a few sprays of Tom Ford Champaca Absolute, he was off.
»»————- ➴ ————-««
Handing the keys of the Jesko to the valet, Merlot walked into the club as if he owned the place. He didn’t, though knew the people that did and it was because of this that he was able to gain entrance and drink despite not being 21 yet. It took a few seconds for his eyes to get used to the dark lighting in here but once he did, he checked the Patek Phillipe on his wrist. He had one minute until the meeting was supposed to start but he couldn’t show up empty handed, could he? No. A drink was in order. Buttoning the blazer as he walked, he headed over to the bar.
Five minutes later with drink in hand, he decided it was finally time to grace everyone with his presence. It didn’t take long for him to enter the VIP area, nor did it take him long to spot who he’d be meeting with. So this was the guy? Merlot sized him from afar—from here, he looked pretty ordinary, but the ordinary ones are always the problematic ones. This particular ordinary looking one had been bugging the Arrows nonstop for weeks. But another seemingly ordinary group had been bothering them both.
In all honesty, Merlot wasn’t all that fussed with the new group that had been bothering both. He was busy studying for this stupid exam, and the Arrows were huge and could definitely obliterate them should the need arise. But they were new and that meant they were dangerous. Not because they were skilled, but rather because they were so unskilled and resorted to using any means necessary meant they were a danger to everyone. It was time to put a stop to it once and for all, as much as he wanted to stay out of it.
His boot clad feet had lead him to his destination while he was lost in thought, the sound of heels hitting the floor coming to a complete stop when he reached the table. “So it’s you?” he asked, sliding into the seat across from Mr. Ordinary and crossing his left leg tightly over his right. “You’re the one that’s been bothering me?” He didn’t expect nor want an answer. “Hmm.” A finger was now tracing the rim of the glass containing an Old Fashioned.
Though it sounded as if he were, Merlot was not contemplating anything. He just needed something to fill in the silence for the time being. Swirling the liquid in the glass around until he heard the ice clink against the edges, he brought it to his lips and took a long sip. A brow was raised as he pulled it away and set it against the dark wood of the table. “So why do you want my help?” he asked. “Actually, let me rephrase that; why should I help you?”
Yes, he wasn’t worried about this new group, but he also had no idea how big they were. For all he knew, they could be double the size of the Arrows. So was this about strength in numbers? He knew Mr. Ordinary’s group was not big at all, albeit quite powerful, so they definitely could need the Arrows help to boost their numbers. But his earlier question still stood. Until he received a response that convinced him, Merlot was remaining neutral about all of this and wouldn’t move until absolutely necessary.
The bass-heavy music thrummed through his body like waves crashing on the beach; this scene wasn't entirely familiar to him, at least not in the sense that he found himself totally at ease. The sight of drunken, swaying bodies was something he'd seen too many times not to ignore, and the smell of sweat that invaded his nose wasn't something that disgusted him. Instead, it was the atmosphere that was alien, the sleek modern structure of the underground club, neon lights that pulsed with the rhythm, the smell of vape and weed mingling in a sour combination.
He hadn't been to a place like this in a while.
It was probably the reason why he was draped over his chair in this way instead of his usual prim posture. His left arm was cast lazily over the back, body twisted almost sideways against the table, his ankle resting on his knee with an air of carelessness; his slouch caused the top three undone buttons of his shirt to spread open a little wider, revealing more smooth skin than he did on a regular basis. Even his hair was unstyled, and as he ran his fingers through it, the smooth black strands fell back against his forehead.
He felt looser than usual.
That was the point.
The table was unoccupied except for a glass of something clear in front of him, the ice inside only just beginning to melt. Five minutes past... That was when he heard the click of heels, far too purposeful in how they approached to belong to someone who didn't want to talk to him.
His eyes flicked lazily up, the only greeting he offered the man who had kept him waiting. Instantly his gaze hardened as he looked him over, as if taking mental notes on the other man's appearance—the sheer mesh shirt that turned his exposed chest a shade darker, confidence yet also a reserved attitude exuding from him in the way he took his seat, his glass clinking against the table as he sat it down. The blank expression in Apollo's face didn't reveal how utterly unsurprised he was at the other's appearance; he didn't need to go around revealing that while he had kept his own appearance a secret from the other, he had seen Merlot several times now without him realizing.
That was a discussion for another time, if this meeting went well.
Then his expression softened, infinitesimally. His chin nudged a little as he spoke.
"You sound underwhelmed."
Lips curled into a faded smile. It wasn't sarcastic or challenging, but it didn't contain an ounce of humor either. It was just a smile, devoid of meaning.
"I didn't think I'd have to spell it out for you, but then again, that's why we're here, isn't it?"
A beat passed, and he cleared his throat.
"Apollo. A pleasure to finally meet you."
He didn't offer his hand.
"I'm sure you know what Oracle does, so there's no need to waste time on that. Assuming you did your homework."
His smile grew broader. Perhaps it was bold of him to allow Merlot a glimpse at his hand, but that was all part of the game, a give and take, and Apollo was certain that he could win.
Assuming Merlot decided to play the game at all.
"I think you should help me because it would be stupid of you not to. It's really not that difficult to understand. Do you know how many times the Hornets have successfully raided Arrow turf and gotten nothing more than a little slap on the wrist?"
Apollo shrugged and ran his finger in a slow circle across the rim of his glass, and for a moment, he seemed almost annoyed, as if this was a matter Merlot should have consulted him about. Of course that was nonsense; Apollo only thought it apt that Merlot didn't give a shit about him. Oracle was a small force and it wasn't likely that the Arrows would bother with someone like them—unless, of course, they required something more technical than sheer numbers brute force.
The Arrows were a full quiver but there was no elegance in their ranks, no respect for delicate work.
Yes, no elegance, Apollo thought again, rolling his teeth over his bottom lip as he looked up at Merlot again, his head tilting just slightly to the side, causing a clump of hair to brush down over his eyebrow. Merlot's fashion choice was attractive but not tasteful; he was here for attention and he knew he'd get it. That kind of person drove Apollo crazy, for while he found confidence attractive, it had to be tempered with something more suave, something he was convinced Merlot lacked. In fact, the longer he looked at him, the more he was determined to dislike him. There was something else about the younger man that rubbed him the wrong way.
"I've got a client who gets a little nervous around troublemakers, so I decided the Hornets have to go. And I can do that—I just need some more... hm."
He pursed his lips in thought before tapping his finger against the corner of his mouth.
"Persuasion. I think it would be in your best interest to work with me simply because the longer you wait, the harder it will be to exterminate them. I wonder how much you've lost already by holding off this long? Think about it."
It was perhaps lucky that the glass in his hand was so thick or else shattered pieces would be embedded in flesh and scattered across the wood of the table. Merlot was gripping the Old Fashioned as if it was his lifeline, the only thing keeping him tethered to the planet. Why was he gripping it like this? Well, because he felt intimidated. Simple as that. Why did he feel intimidated? Mainly because he didn’t like the way the other was sitting. It made Merlot feel stupid, small, and completely inferior.
He ignored the comment about being underwhelmed and instead took a sip of his drink. However, that drink was nearly spat out when he heard the name. Choking, Merlot set the drink back down. Okay, there was no way this guy’s name was Apollo. "Yeah, and I’m Aphrodite," he chuckled under his breath, fingers playing with one of the zippers on his leather pants.
"Assuming you did your homework.”
That chuckle quickly died.
Homework. The way it was phrased made it sound like the schoolwork type of homework, made it sound like it was known he was still in school, that it was known he was attending classes at NYU and known that he just came from doing homework and studying. He didn’t like that at all. However, he said nothing.
"Yes, I do know how many times," he finally spoke, eyes now following a droplet of condensation as it flowed down the glass. "Do you know just how small our arms dealing and drug trafficking division is? Miniscule. Around three percent of our total income. Why should we give a damn about this little bug group raiding a few of our shipments when all of our income comes from elsewhere?"he didn’t expect an answer. "It’s a waste of time." Until they posed a much bigger threat than this, he was not going to be bothered about it.
The Arrows could crush anyone and anything in the city, anything within a 100 kilometre radius even. They could stamp out a new group at the blink of an eye if he so much as gave an indication to do so. But why bother with that when this group didn’t even make a dent in the Arrows bank account?
If this were any other situation, Merlot would have laughed when he heard the word persuasion. In fact, he almost did, though bit his lip hard at the last second to keep it in and then ran his tongue over his bottom lip to disguise the actions. "This has nothing to do with persuasion,"he started, choosing not to sugarcoat anything."I’ll be able to exterminate them no matter how long I wait, we both know that. But you. . . you won’t."
Merlot raised the glass to his lips once again and drained the entirety of its contents before setting it down. "The problem you’re facing is that you’re simply too small to take out this group. Afraid of angering your client when you bring them the bad news that you cant do what they asked you to, you’re turning to me and hoping I can provide you the sheer force of numbers to complete the job with ease."
Though young, though kept out of this lifestyle almost the entire time he’d been alive, he wasn’t stupid. He knew what this was really about. As much as the man sitting across from him denied it, the Arrows were needed. Having them would provide the necessary bodies and strength in order to wipe out this group. Now the question was, what was in it for them?
A hand that was in his hair trying to loosen up some of the gel stopped completely when he heard the final line and he let out a snort. "No you’re not,"The hand was lowered. "You’re trying to help yourself. This is entirely about you." Before he could continue, another drink was suddenly set in front of him. "Cheers," he said automatically as a form of thank you, then looked up. Bright green eyes widened in surprise as they stared up at Niko, the bartender winking and then turning and walking away.
Clearing his throat and leaning forward, he continued, "I’m not going to, but let’s have a laugh and say I decide to help you. What’s in it for me?" A valid question. "And don’t say ‘stopping them from raiding our shipments’—I’ve already made it incredibly clear that that’s not enough of a reason and I don’t care about that."
Finished speaking, Merlot leaned back, surveying the other with an unreadable expression on his face. He brought his right hand up to the table and started drumming a random tune against the wood, the sound of the metal from the multiple rings adorning his fingers hitting against the surface filling in the otherwise silent void.
Merlot spoke—and Apollo seemed to grow more amused with every passing minute. His lips, previously pressed into a thin, contemplative line, now quirked at the edges, betraying just the margin of his contempt for the other man. Where he had been nearly stoic before, he began to visibly relax, his form caving more into the slope of his chair, his head leaning back ever so slightly, although his eyes never left the man across the table except for a split second, following the retreating form of an overly friendly bartender. How interesting.
"Ooh—"
Apollo pursed his lips, releasing a sigh of faux amazement.
"You're a quick one, aren't you? Never should have thought I could pull the wool over your eyes."
Sarcasm dripped from his voice, thick as honey and twice as sickly-sweet, no attempt made to hide the blasé in his expression.
"How impressive."
He allowed the taunt to sink in.
"Let's stop wasting my time, hm? And I'm sure you're a very busy man. Do you really think I'd expect you to help me out of goodwill? The world would be a magical place if all you had to do was bat your pretty eyelashes to get a favor. Unfortunately—we both know there has to be more incentive. Don't worry—I'm willing to provide."
There was a hedonistic flair in the way he ran his tongue over his plump bottom lip, such a small gesture made thousands of times more suggestive by the lilt in his voice, an insinuated note that was all too obvious. Yes—he thought Merlot was quite attractive, in a cocky, inexperienced kind of way. His demure posture spoke of a child still living the fantasy of a life prepared for him, and while Apollo knew he had been forced to grow up faster than most, there remained the dregs of a smooth-cheeked palace life. Merlot was far too sheltered and his innocence would become terminal if he did not encounter an opposite force quite soon. He was idealized and Apollo could spot that fatal flaw from a mile away, simply because he'd been the same once, what felt like a lifetime ago.
"Like I said, the Hornets have had a field day with your importing business at the docks, which—"
He waved a hand in the air dismissively.
"—I'm sure I'd feel the same way about it if I was in your shoes. Something that insignificant surely isn't worth your time, not when your key stocks reside in those hotels and casino parlors you pride yourself on. See? I did my homework."
A challenge glinted in his eyes that seemed to say, "too bad you didn't do your own." After a beat, Apollo brushed his hand back through his hair, untamed strands spilling out from between his fingers to curl just slightly at the edges, long enough to brush the top of his eyebrows.
"I did yours, too."
The hand on his shoulder didn't bring him the slightest surprise; in fact, he hardly seemed to acknowledge the woman who had sauntered up from behind him. She was tall, but maybe it was just the glittering stiletto heels, or the way the thigh-high slit in her dress flaunted her long legs, made them seem longer. There was a thin, diamond band around her thigh, just beneath the point of the slit, and the bodice of her dress dipped daringly into a wicked V, almost halfway to her navel, showcasing smooth bronze skin clear of any blemish. Wildly curly hair, brown struck through with natural highlights, hung loose around her shoulders, bouncing lightly as she moved, thin fingers brushing the silk of Apollo's shirt, spreading out over his shoulder in a gesture that might have been possessive, if not for the half-lidded shade in her eyes. Her other hand placed a black folder neatly in front of Apollo.
"Grazie, cara."
Apollo's gaze didn't leave Merlot, not for a single moment, as if his brief words of gratitude were spoken to him instead of the woman behind him. At that, she razed her unimpressed gaze over Merlot and turned over her shoulder, stalking away as if there were a million other places she would have rather been.
Apollo reached forward, sliding the folder toward Merlot with two fingers before sitting back again, his arm cast over the back of his chair carelessly.
"Go on. Consider this my working contract."
Inside the folder were several bundles of paperclipped documentation—innocent, if looked over carelessly, but condemning if given more than a moment's glance. Records of gambling charges that didn't add up, massive amounts of winnings disappearing without so much as a name to attach them to. Foreign bank accounts, credit fraud, slot machine scams—all linked back to the Hornets. Apollo's gaze was just as steeled as ever, but there was a satisfaction in the way he tilted his head ever so slightly, as if he was studying a puppy and trying to decide if it was cute or just pathetic in its attempts for seeking attention.
If there was a reaction desired from the sarcasm used, Merlot didn’t give one. In fact, it was almost as if he didn’t even hear any words spoken, busying himself with checking the watch on his wrist for a time he didn’t care about knowing and then watching the cocktail cherry in the freshly made Old Fashioned float to the top.
“The world would be a magical place if all you had to do was bat your pretty eyelashes to get a favor.”
He finally looked away from the glass, an unamused expression gracing his features when the conversation turned to his own appearance. Yes, he knew he was pretty. In fact, the whole world did since he liked to flaunt it so much. But not now. Not when he was in business mode, in Arrows mode. He hated when his looks were brought up while doing business. But then came the rest of the statement and all thoughts about business and appearance were driven out of his mind.
Merlot found the expression on his face rapidly changing and being replaced by his lip curling, a brow raising and distaste now evident upon his features. ”No thanks,” he couldn’t help but comment, referring to both the “incentive” and being “willing to provide”. He knew the underlying innuendo was meant to be understood, and understood it was. However, for as much as he slept around, he had no desire to partake in this particular innuendo. Yeah, the man in front of him was quite easy on the eye, that was true. But the arrogance, the cockiness, and the subtle narcissism was all a big turn off. Miss him with that.
The arrogance appeared to increase tenfold when the conversation turned back to “homework”, but with it came condescending words and tone. He felt the hand currently in his lap curl into a fist; he hated being talked to like this—as if he were a child who didn’t understand jack fucking shit. Well newsflash, bucko, he may still be young, may still have a lot to learn, but he understood jack fucking shit. There was no need to talk to him like this. ”Good for you,” was all he said when Tropicana over here finished talking about doing both of their homework. ”Do you want an award or something?” He shook his head in annoyance, running his tongue along his front teeth.
Merlot hadn’t noticed anyone else approaching the table, too lost inside his head wondering why he was being treated as if he were a child. But he definitely noticed the file that suddenly appeared on the table, eyes narrowing in on the manilla folder that presumably held incriminating evidence, or reasons why he should work with the bee exterminator. He assumed whoever brought the file had disappeared since it was now being slid over to him and no one new had joined the foray. ”Your working contract?” he asked in disbelief, opening the folder. ”Last time I checked, you were coming to me for help. If anything, this should be my working contract.”
Nevertheless, he looked down and began to read through the documents.
How this evidence was acquired, he didn’t know. Why the evidence was acquired, he also didn’t know. But what he did know was that this was bad. Their accounting department had just done an audit and he’d reviewed the findings, noting that income in certain areas was down more than it had been months ago but not realising it was this. He thought Arrows owned casinos had the utmost security in them, thought all of their machines had the highest levels of encryption and firewalls installed. Apparently not. He was taking these files with him when this meeting ended and immediately giving them to the IT and security teams.
”Still not enough of a reason, Lamon?”
It was a very good thing Merlot had not taken a sip of his drink or else bourbon would have been sprayed all over the table. This guy knew his Thai name? How? No one knew his Thai name apart from his family, Bright, and the university since he had to put down his birth name for legal purposes. Did Hermes or whatever his name was (Merlot had forgotten) hack into the school records and see his files?”Mmm, so you know my name,”He did a good job of acting as if he didn’t care. ”You definitely did your homework. Did it a little too well, actually. Seems to me as if you’re a bit obsessed with me, mate. Why go to all that effort to find out my Thai name if you’re not infatuated by me, hmm?”
Unnerved (though hiding it), Merlot wasn’t sure what to do. To give himself thinking time, he picked up his untouched drink and took a sip, frowning as some of the condensation dripped down onto his blazer. Not wanting to risk getting anything else on it, he took the blazer off and set it down beside him, then leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table.”These documents are supposed to make me agree to work with you, right?”he questioned, gesturing down towards the file in front of him. ”Maybe they will, who knows. But I have a question.”
It had been on his mind ever since he read the first page. ”You came to me wanting my help to stop these guys from raiding boats, but this has to do with casinos,” he paused to take another sip of the Old Fashioned.”Are you saying you’re going to turn your attention from stopping the boat raids to stopping this?”Considering they both had to do with the Hornets, the answer was probably going to be yes. And as much as he hated to admit it, Sunshine was probably going to end up getting his help.
This wasn’t something Merlot could ignore, especially not when it concerned his casinos, part of their biggest assets. Yes, their security and IT teams were going to put a stop to it, but he simply didn’t know where this chaotic group was going to strike next. Poseidon seemingly did know. And that was very important. However he wasn’t going to give the other the satisfaction of being right. ”Thanks for bringing this to my attention, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to help you or work with you. My IT and security teams can easily take care of it. The only way I’ll agree to work with you is if you can guarantee this will never happen again at any of my casinos or hotels.”
No one, no matter how hard they tried, could guarantee anything, something Merlot knew very well. Chances were good that his help would not be given. With that conclusion drawn, Merlot really wanted this meeting wrapped up and over with. He could hear the music playing from downstairs and the song had just switched to a remixed version of Justin Bieber’s One Time, causing him to actually have to lock his muscles in place to stop himself from singing and getting up to go dance. Yeah, this needed to end.
Merlot's forced ease brought Apollo nothing short of delight. Perhaps it was stupid of him to feel as though he had the upper hand when the Arrows had access to far more, in terms of both resources and manpower, but just the idea that he could force the haughty Merlot to meet him where he was, and perhaps even dip a little lower, fueled him on, made him want to keep poking and prodding until something broke.
It wasn't any surprise that Merlot hadn't heard anything of these security breaches; Apollo might not have come across the information at all if it hadn't been for a particularly helpful bug in his ear, and he certainly wouldn't have given two shits if his particular contractor wasn't so lucrative. Once, a long time ago, he might have been able to look past the dollar sign, but things had changed, and Apollo's priorities were no longer the same as they had once been. No more did he follow the movement of his heart and desires; he was fueled on by necessity and nothing more. Oracle was but a lowly syndicate in comparison to the empire he'd been forced to flee, the empire he was hell-bent on regaining, a crown of hammered iron and stained glass that was his and his alone.
He allowed the other to finish, his face not budging an inch in its expression of total ease and relaxation, as if this was the kind of thing he did for fun. His knee bobbed slightly in the air, an air of listlessness and near-boredom crossing his expression, and his jaw shifted slightly as if he was holding back a yawn. Too many questions asked, too many uncertainties that Merlot chose to focus on, rather than the problem at hand. As Apollo had counted on, seemed to be distracted with the new threat and the man in front of him, nearly lumping them together in the same category, as if the Hornets were the carrion and Apollo was the vulture, circling, circling, waiting. What did that make Merlot? The coyote forced to resort to roadkill, or the car that had killed it in the first place?
"Lamon, caro, I don't make promises. It's not good business."
The hint of an accent slipped between his lips, a carefully-placed breadcrumb to keep Merlot wondering. He hadn't spoken Italian in so long that embracing the sounds on his tongue felt like kissing an old lover. Familiar, bittersweet.
"Solve your casino problem and you'll be plucking the wings of the Hornets. It's simple gravity from there."
He spoke as if he was addressing a toddler.
"If you can't make that connection then perhaps I ought to take the rest of my information elsewhere."
Indicating that there was more he was withholding, that the information he'd supplied was something but not quite enough.
"Think about it, at least. If I went through all that effort to find your Thai name—"
He parroted him, mockingly.
"—then I'll find you again. It wasn't too hard the first time."
There wasn't much of a reason to stick around the club other than to get a closer look at the man he'd been tracking for a few weeks now. Scoping out enemy territory was a familiar feeling to Apollo and melting into the shadows came as naturally to him as breathing. However, as he leaned against the second floor railing, staring out across the dancefloor and a sea of licentious bodies, he made no effort to hide. In fact, his presence seemed to magnify the longer he stared at Merlot, fixing him with a gaze that might have been considered desirous, especially now that the other man's abandoned jacket was cast over his shoulder.
He was a good dancer, for what it was worth.
It was a little bright outside but long summers in Italy made this seem as nothing. Apollo had lost the majority of his tan shortly after fleeing to America and he'd already decided that one of the first things he'd do when he went home was spend a long, long afternoon on the beach, in the sun. He missed the air, the clean scent of Mediterranean salt, the taste of it on his tongue after diving through a wave.
New York was still clinging to the remnants of winter and Apollo felt homesick for the first time in a while. In fact, this was the first time in a while that he'd even allowed himself to think of home. He wondered what triggered this change; it wasn't as though what he was here to do would give him anything that he could use to continue his fight for his birthright. Despite the unique circumstances of the Arrows's boss, this kind of situation was quite familiar to Apollo, and his stride reflected that sense of purpose, needing nothing more than the look in his eyes and an unwillingness to move any direction rather than forward that made other passersby part like the Red Sea before Moses.
He'd walked this path before a week or so ago while learning Merlot's schedule. The man always went to the gym on Wednesday afternoons, and Apollo would be ready for him when he left. He had a jacket to deliver, which was folded neatly in his hand, contained within a plastic bag from the dry-cleaners, and a decision to collect, the payment for the other night's expenses. Apollo could hardly be said to be a cheap ma, and the same went for his work. He knew what he was worth.
When he spotted Merlot, he grinned, expecting the man to meet him halfway and panic. But the other seemed distracted; his gaze wandered anywhere other than Apollo, and he even half-twisted around, patting his bag as if searching for something, his eyes fixing on the ground just by his feet. He wondered if he ought to stop, to move, to say something to catch his attention.
But it wasn't quite so fun that way.
He didn't move, and neither did Merlot, and in three quick steps, they collided softly together. Softly, at least, on Apollo's end. He couldn't say the same for Merlot.
"Whoa—"
His free hand flashed out to wrap around Merlot's waist, keeping him from toppling backward, his palm pressed firmly against his back, pressing them back together, two magnets that collided so rapidly that their attraction was bound to cause chaos.
"If I knew you were this excited to see me, I would have brought more than your jacket."
He smiled and made no move to separate from Merlot.
"Hello, Lamon."
The other smelled of sweat and his form felt sturdy against Apollo's, eliciting a clipped laugh.
The second he left the “discussion” table on Friday night and shoved the files into Bright’s hands, the issues with the casinos and the Hornets were driven out of Merlot’s mind, not to be thought of again for the rest of the weekend. He’d spent the rest of the night with Niko, doing his absolute best to ignore the heavy gaze he felt lingering on him until he was dragged down one of the hallways and disappeared from sight.
The next day was filled with Arrows business, studying and then partying, and then studying, business and partying the following. Monday during the day was spent studying at the library, Merlot wearing a high necked t-shirt with a bottle of Advil next to him as he tried his best to push through the hangover that was making learning anything pretty difficult. Tuesday was exam day, then gym for two hours and then the rest of the day was reserved for the Arrows.
But Wednesday, Wednesday was reserved just for him. With only one class in the late morning, he had the rest of the day to himself. He usually went to the gym right after class and then went home and slept the rest of the day, enjoying the bliss that came with not having to deal with anything Arrows for one day of the week. This particular Wednesday, however, most of his afternoon would be spent with his band rehearsing for their upcoming gig on Saturday.
He didn’t spend as much time at the gym as he would have liked, the amount of fellow students there at the same time making it difficult for him to get the machines or equipment he wanted. Nevertheless, Merlot still managed to work up a sweat, the hair he’d tied back in a messy bun becoming shiny and the cotton material of the muscle tee now clinging to his back.
Slipping off his glasses and sliding prescription sunglasses on, he stepped out into the sunshine, checking his phone to confirm the train times since he needed to take the subway to rehearsal tonight. Just as he was pocketing his phone, it rang. Seeing Bright’s name on the screen, he swiped to answer.”Sawatdee Khrap, P’Bright,” he greeted cheerfully in Thai.
”Why did you answer like that?” came the voice on the other line, also speaking in Thai. And Merlot just shrugged, despite Bright not being able to see it. ”Whatever. I need you to check your email and review the files I just sent.”
”Why? Tonight is my night off. I have band practice tonight," Speaking of, did he remember to bring his drumsticks? He twisted his upper body around to see one of the sticks poking out of the top of his backpack. Good.
”I know, but this is important. I wouldn’t have asked you otherwise.”
”Do I have to, p’?" he whined, so not wanting to.
”Yes. Do it after practice.” and Bright hung up.
Rolling his eyes at the now black screen and mocking the person that just hung up on him, Merlot put his phone back into his pocket. Or tried to, that is. Before he could get it into the pocket of his joggers, he slammed face first into something hard. What the fuck? He would have gone flying backwards, head to pavement ass to grass if not for the arm that wrapped around his waist and kept him upright.
”Th—“ he started, getting ready to thank and apologise to whoever just saved him. But then he looked up, and his eyes locked onto the last person he wanted to see. Never mind. There would be no thank you’s right now. He didn’t miss the way they were pressed together, the way the arm around his waist still kept him against flesh despite it being obvious that he was no longer in danger of going crashing to the ground.
Narrowing his eyes, Merlot tried his best to take a step back. Keyword being tried. See, no matter how many hours he spent in the gym, he never could seem to bulk up and gain strength. The arm that was still around him was significantly bulkier and stronger and therefore kept him rooted to the spot despite his (minimal) attempts to escape. ”Oh yes,” Merlot started, rolling his eyes behind the lenses. ”I’m thrilled to be seeing you, can’t you tell?”
He stopped struggling when a jacket was mentioned. And what jacket? It was then he remembered that he wore a jacket to their meeting, had taken it off at some point and then completely forgot about it as he meandered onto his next adventures. Whatever. Then his Thai name was used again and his lips curled into a slight snarl. He didn’t hate his name, not in the slightest actually, he just didn’t like hearing it come out of the mouth of someone he disliked.
”Miss me?"
”No," he replied without a seconds hesitation or thought, ignoring how childish it sounded.”But I think I should be the one asking you that question,"he began. "You obviously knew I left my jacket behind since I arrived to the table wearing it and departed without it. I know you spent a good chunk of the evening watching me dance. . . why not give it to me then?"It was a valid question. There was ample opportunity that night, but the other chose not to jump on it.
”Going out of your way to hold onto it and find out where I’d be to return it,” He shook his head. ”Bit suspicious, innit? Clearly, returning my jacket isn’t the main reason you’re here. So what do you really want?” Merlot had an inkling that it would be to find out whether or not he’d decided on the Arrows availability to help, but wanted to hear it in words.
While waiting for an answer, he became increasingly aware of the arm that was still wrapped around him. Trying his best to keep the red from appearing on his cheeks, he spoke, ”Think you could let go of me now?” He didn’t think he could keep the blush at bay much longer.
