Rich Man

Something happens to me every sunrise, every time I come to the realization that I survived my subconscious for another night. I'll be perfectly honest--My dreams had been shifting to more graphic intensities in the last few months. At first I thought it was nothing to worry about, perfectly normal what with all of the hormonal bullshit going on between Patrice and I. How wrong I was turned out to be a devastating understatement.

Every time I shut my eyes, he was there, waiting for me.

Running both hands through my hair, I slid out of bed. Savvy was already up and about, fiddling with the buttons on his dress shirt. The tip of his pink tongue jutted from the corner of his lips as he repeatedly fumbled with the same button.

"Need some help seeing the button, old man?" I groggily smirked and stretched.

"How many times," he didn't break his intense stare, "do I have to tell y-" violently shoving the button through the hole of his shirt, he smiled with vicious triumph, "HAH. Um, anyway, how many times do I have to tell you that I'm not that much older than you?"

Giggling, I threw all of my clothes in a heap in my duffel bag and pulled on one of his sweatshirts. Honestly, I didn't care what I looked like for the travel day. And, though I would never admit it to his face without sounding awkward, Marc had a nice smell. "I know, but I like thinking of you as the father type."

"Then call me dad," he replied simply and hoisted his bags over his shoulders.

It was eight in the morning when we shuffled into the crowded hall of Bruins. Savvy made his way down to the lobby for coffee, leaving me alone in a hall of groggy men. Blake reared his head from the door across from mine and smiled subtly. He made a light waving gesture before tossing his bags beside mine.

Intensity weighed heavily on his every move. He was hesitant, calculating ever inch of his movements as though anticipating my skepticism. But I only smiled softly, greeted the little cheat, and went on my way.

“Just say it, Blake. You’re cheating.”

“I’m not,” he shouted, but silenced himself the moment our eyes locked in a cold, nonchalant match, “I’m not cheating. It’s complicated.”

A set of thoughts swirled through my mind as I made my way down the hall, slowly but surely coming to a state of full and complete conscious awareness. Blake was, in a sense, honest with me those few nights ago. However, I still needed a plan; and that was how I intended to spend the whole ride home.

Today is day twenty-three. Twenty-three more days until Blake would meet us with Tera. Twenty-three days until I will meet and profile the hell out of her.

I was caught in daze of determination, calculating every number that whizzed through my head all the while forcing myself to remember every note. There was no more time to waste; I had to make the moves that would wrap this web of bullshit up. Now.

“Milan’s fiancé, Kelsey, had feelings for Patrice. No one knew but Tera. We’ve never spoken about it in great detail, so some of it’s a little vague, but Tera found out that Kelsey and Patrice were close. Bergy didn’t have mutual feelings, but Kelsey had a thing for him. And then Milan came to me freaked out one day about Tera, saying this crazy stuff about how she’s nothing but a deceitful bitch. I think Tera tried warning Milan about Kelsey and he just didn’t want to believe it…

“And I got so angry. Looch said some fucked up shit about Tera, I got defensive, and didn’t think about it and called out Kelsey and Patrice. Milan took it the totally wrong way and attacked Patrice, thinking that Bergy was trying to steal his girl. They had their fight and didn’t talk for a long time. I mean, you see how proud Looch is. It was impossible for him to admit that he was wrong.”

Every potential character trait of Tera stormed my mind, winding into a forceful bout of color in the form of a human code. After breaking that same situation down a hundred times over, picturing vividly the fierce jealously in Milan's eyes, I found myself adjusting my position in the slightly uncomfortable plane seat. Though my eyes stayed fixed on the minuscule world below the floating craft, the task at hand loomed.

Chaos is necessary for peace to exist; same as the light and the dark. I suppose, in this sense, my actions will be justified when this is all over... It seems like only hours ago that I walked up on Blake and caught him calling Tera. And of course Lex being in love with Blake only makes her reliability nothing short of worthless. I should have called that one far beforehand.

I leaned my head against the window and began counting the rolling hills below.

I guess now the only thing I can do is prep the boys as much as possible by keeping the peace. When the time draws near enough to Tera's arrival, I'll entertain Blake with potential alternatives to this secretive bullshit. He can cut off the relationship and no one ever has to know it happened or he can come out with it. The later, though the original plan, is completely unfavorable at this point.

A small yawn slipped through Milan's lips beside me as he stretched in his seat and fell back asleep. His hair was messy, strands sticking out every which way while a quarter of his hair had flattened against the seat. Staring at him made my stomach turn.

I want as little pain for these boys as possible. They don't need the tension of knowing their friend's faults. And besides, keeping Tera as a dying and soon dead secret will put the proverbial ball in only Lex's court. If I can get the situation just between the two of them, I can potentially fix the both of them up and call it a day, the end.

But I knew better, so much better. The simple solution had a success rate of zero. Hence why I was focused on strengthening the entire group, not just bottle-necking the situation and trying to contain it. One slip with the key factors of an unstable group and boom, the whole mass goes to shit.

"Do you smell that?" Milan whispered, head lulling to rest against the top of mine. The bear-like boy's body curled slightly in his seat as he pulled his blanket higher on his body.

"Smell what?" I asked simply, sniffing the air.

"Burning braincells... What are you thinking so hard about?"

I smiled, leaning back into him and sighed. "It's complex."

"Obviously."

"What do you want to know?"

"Whatever has you so zoned out in concentration." For a moment I pondered a decent reply. He watched me quizzically as if expecting that pause; and it didn't impress him. "Why put so much thought into an answer?"

"Because, like I said, it's complex. I guess I'm just kind of re-evaluating my life, really."

Now the boy nodded, "Oh, well yeah I'd guess that is pretty deep. Anything I can help with? Any burning questions?"

The way he emphasized "burning" with his tired slur made me smile. Eyelids falling shut, I let a yawn pass through my lips. "No, no... I'm just trying to figure out where I want to be in how many years... You know, trivial stuff."

"Well where do you see yourself in... Five, ten years?"

"No freaking idea at this point. Just not married."

The boy chuckled. "That's a weird thing to say. Why not married?"

"You're forgetting that I first came here because of a bad relationship gone even further awry. I think I'm good on my own or just dating for now, thanks."

"Suit yourself, but I think you'd make a guy pretty damn happy someday," Milan paused for a brief moment and continued, "Well... If there's a guy on earth who can keep up with your Jedi mind tricks."

"Har har... I'm sure there's someone."

-

Home felt something like a long untouched relic of a memory; an old photographic that had barely once been glanced at since it was taken. The walls seemed more bare than I remembered. It was cool, frigid actually, and a light, musty scent had cascaded over what seemed like the entire place.

Bergeron's bedroom still held the same deeply contrasting scent; it was his, spicy and husky, warm and comforting. But it kept my senses on high alert, kept me thinking even though my thinking was mostly about him. I sighed with a reluctant breath as I mentally acknowledge the extraordinary hold he had on my mind and collapsed onto the crisp covers.

Let me put it in perspective: Get here, meet Bergeron, compete with Bergeron, get kissed by Bergeron, start teasing Bergeron for information.... And now what? I know he damn well has a hold on my head. He's... Well, he's so... Hhheehh... Bergeron.

Fucking shit, can I sound more like I've gone stupid?

"Someone looks like they've got a bad taste in their mouth," his voice rang out quietly. The door remained ajar all the while, even as Patrice strode into the room with that delicious smile on his cleanly shaven mug.

Closing my eyes I rolled over and turned my back to him. My only reply was a muffled, completely forced grunt. The bed shook, as expected, but it's not like I cared much. At this point, he was a fairly easy read. And besides, more of my worry was in who was still at home and who all were leaving to get dinner. After a minute of steady listening, I came to the consensus that we were pretty much alone.

"They're all gone, if that's what you're wondering," he spoke plainly, "It's why I didn't close the door." A smooth hand slid over the center of my back, body heat sinking directly into my skin as if I weren't wearing a shirt. Patrice lay quietly beside me, beginning to rub the same area gently, and stared up at the ceiling as though stuck in a bout of crucial thought.

"Why didn't you go to dinner?" I asked with a lazy, muffled voice and further relaxed into his warm touch.

"Didn't feel like it," he replied with a much more alert tone, leaned down, and pressed his mouth to the side of my head. "Felt like staying and getting some rest."

"So you mean getting me alone in your bed while everyone else is out?" this just sort of tumbled out in a playful tone.

He smirked smooth touch easily working a tense spot out of the center of my back. "Oh darn," he murmured, pulling my body into his as he positioned himself right beside me, "You've found me out." His fingers brushed away the hair covering the back of my neck, his warm breath kissing the newly exposed skin. Patrice was clearly smiling as he pressed a soft kiss there and grabbed the fleece throw to pull over the two of us.

"What are you doing?" I whispered, staying completely motionless.

Nuzzling his face into my skin and lightly inhaling, he replied, "Sleeping with you."