Lost in London [Completed]

Six

Kay's head snapped to the side, a harsh blow dealt nonchalantly by the man standing over him. He was only kept in the chair by the cuffs around his wrists, securing them around the back of the chair.

"Come on, where is he? Where the fuck is your little boyfriend? Hmm?"

It was like a taunt. A constant, repetitive taunt. It was getting old.

"Fiancé." Kay spat back, not even gracing the man with a glance upwards.

"That's what you're focused on?" The voice sounded almost sympathetic. "It's sweet, really. Definitely not going to be what gets you killed."

Kay didn't respond. He concentrated all of his attention on the wall across from him, a dull stare boring an imaginary hole into the brickwork.

"You should really look at me while I'm talking to you," a hand sharply caught hold of Kay's chin, forcing him to look upwards. "Isn't that better?"

Instead of agreeing, Kay jerked his head away, silent. There was no point in trying to argue, but his stubbornness was something he could hold onto. It was something he could keep a grasp on. That was his, and couldn't be taken.

He was laughed at, and saw the man round the table to stand truly opposite him. He leant down, hands pressed flat onto the wooden table. Instead of focusing on them, Kay paid special attention to all of the nicks and splinters in the table – old paint splatters and indents from saws and screwdrivers.

"You should look at me before I break your fucking neck."

Kay couldn't help but look up – the look in his eyes one of complete horror at the threat. And he would do it. Kay knew that. This was a man who had fun burning slurs into Kay's skin; it was a game to him, and Kay's life was a low stake. This was the kind of man who got off on the pain he inflicted. Kay gritted his teeth and swallowed his pride, continuing to look up. It didn't mean anything – Kay was still making his own choice.

"See, now we're getting somewhere, isn't that nice?"

"Go fuck yourself."

"What was that?"

"I said, Go Fuck Yourself," Kay raised his voice and finally met the other man's eyes.

The black bruises down one side of his face, the dislocated shoulder forced back into place, the nose so bloody it had caked his face – suddenly those things didn't hurt any more. He looked up and almost smiled, making the decision now that nothing mattered.

Nothing but Halden mattered.

The man simply looked at him, with one simple question leaving his lips: "Oh, is that right?"

Kay gave a sharp nod. He exhaled sharply, hit again with the butt of a pistol he hadn't seen. The watering of his eyes gave away the pain. He allowed his head to keep to the side as he caught his breath once more.

That was when things settled into their sickening places. The cuffs, the gun. This man's whole demeanour. He was a cop. That was the only explanation. Kay had his fair share of run-ins. How had he missed it for so long?

Halden really had gotten himself in with the wrong crowd.

They had pull.

"I'm going to give you one more chance. You tell me where your boyfriend is, and where you were planning to go with him, and you walk out the front door right now."

Kay didn't even consider it. But he must have looked like it – when he looked up, the man was grinning, as if he'd won. Gradually, he leant forward on the table, bringing his face within inches of Kay's.

"So? Where were you going?"

Kay allowed the man to get closer – close enough to see the dilated pupils of a man eager for answers. A man who knew he was going to get them.

Instead, Kay tilted his head backwards and spat into the face of the man, earning himself a string of cursing as the man turned away to wipe his face. If Kay hadn't already decided that nothing mattered, it really didn't now.

The next few seconds of silence were a blessing before the cop exploded.

"You think you're funny? You think you're fucking funny?" His tone was of sheer anger. "I'll give you something to laugh about."

Then a blur. The man took hold of the gun and loaded it. Loaded the gun. And made sure as hell that Kay could see what he was doing. Loading it, removing the safety and turning it over in his hands. He was enjoying this – enjoying the look of fear that Kay could no longer control on his features.

With his left hand, he reached across and grabbed Kay's face, but this time didn't let go as he moved around the table. And Kay watched his every move, eyes on the gun over anything else. He said nothing.

"Open your mouth before I do it for you."

Kay did as he was told. Everyone talked about fight or flight, but they always forgot freeze. That was where Kay was. Frozen, barely able to do as he was told.

He felt the barrel of the gun between his teeth, and it was just left there. For seconds on end, he had the barrel of that loaded gun loosely between his teeth.

A metallic taste. Cold metal against his tongue.

Kay coughed and finally tried to pull away, shaking his head and giving in to the fear.

With one harsh movement, the narrow barrel of the gun pressed against the back of his throat. A hand held his hair, forcing him to keep his head in place.

Sharp, unsteady intakes of breath weren't pulling in enough air. The lightheadedness was overwhelming, but Kay refused to let himself pass out. It was all he could do not to gag and choke on the metal, and the tears cutting through his dirtied cheeks felt like a betrayal.

Then a noise from elsewhere in the house. The cop scoffed at this, finger on the trigger. And another noise.

He cursed in exasperation, and looked down at Kay and his distress in a loving manner – like one might look at a child. Very gradually, Kay felt the pressure on the back of his throat disappear. Finally, he was able to cough, practically doubling over as he tried to force vomit back.

The acidic taste in the back of his throat was all too familiar as he gasped for air, allowing his head to hang – chin on his chest. Quiet sobs escaped his throat, all energy to hide them gone.

The gun was set down on the table in front of Kay, barrel pointed towards him. It was as if it were a substitute to being watched. The cop said something... Something about when he came back, he wanted Kay to behave himself, or they could pick up just where they left off.

But that was the last thing on Kay's mind.

By the time the door was closed and Kay was alone, he was just allowing tears to fall down his face and into his lap. It wasn't worth trying to fight through this much longer.