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Chapter 1 : Nightmares and Memories
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He laughed as arms wrapped around his waist and Hugo felt like he hadn't heard it in years. Hugo held him closer, afraid that if he'd let go he'd lose him.
"I'm not going anywhere," he murmured in his ear. Hugo wondered how he did that; he always knew what he was thinking.
"I'm afraid of losing you," Hugo whispered, holding onto him tighter. He gripped his hands around the edges of the man's shirt and pulled him so close he was almost straddling Hugo's lap.
"There's more than enough room on this bed for the both of us, we are alone here," he laughed. "You don't need to hold on so tight."
Hugo looked around him; there was plenty of room. They were sat in the middle of the bed, legs crossed. Outside, the sea was close enough to smell the salty air, and they could feel the breeze against their skin. There was no one on this island but them.
Hugo made them sit in the middle, so they wouldn't fall off the edge. He knew it wasn't literal and he had a feeling he knew it, too. "I do. I feel like it's already happening; I'm losing you. Maybe I've already lost you."
He leant in and kissed Hugo softly."Never." His touch calmed Hugo and he loosened his grip slightly. "I promise."
His smile made Hugo melt and suddenly everything felt better. His mind cleared of his worries and a grin was etched onto his face.
His lover raised a hand to caress Hugo's face and let it fall to his waist. "I just need to ask one question."
"Anything," Hugo whispered, leaning in.
Their lips just touched, then he leaned back. "When are you going to pull the knife from my back?"
Hugo pulled back quickly and his hands were covered in blood. "No."
They suddenly weren't in the bedroom anymore, but on the beach, and he had disappeared. The sun had gone and the cold stabbed him like knives. Hugo spun in a circle, searching for him. He wiped his hands on his shirt but the blood remained stained on his hands.
Hugo woke sweating and gripped the bedsheets. He shakily got out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. He turned the shower on and faced the mirror. His reflection looked terrible and he felt as though he actually looked worse; his eyes had purple bags underneath and he looked like he'd been punched.
Sighing, he removed his underwear and got in the shower. The water scorched his skin, but he felt like he needed it. He let it burn, hoping it would take away his nightmare. It didn't. It never did. It had been the same nightmare ever since everything ended three years ago.
He shook it off before he could dwell on it and got out of the shower. If he didn't get ready now, he would be late for work. Hugo had finally made a decision and to do it, he needed to go to work. He was going to go through with it.
He grabbed his suit from the hanger on the wardrobe and threw it on, making sure his shirt wasn't creased and his waistcoat was fastened before putting on his jacket.
He took a deep breath and stared at his reflection in the mirror. "I'm ready."
"Come on, people, does no one have anything?" their boss groaned in his thick Irish accent, which still made Hugo's heart beat madly and caused his body to react physically. "You've had all weekend."
Everyone stared around the room, looking at each other, hoping they had an answer for the new campaign. Hugo kept his eyes on him; the way his eyes lit up when he was excited, how they darkened when he was angry, the way he'd run his hands through his hair to calm himself. It stuck up at odd angles, giving him the 'I just got out of bed' look Hugo loved.
"Have you got something to say?"
Hugo sat up straight, trying to pretend he had been listening but, given the look he was being given, he knew Hugo hadn't been.
"Er," he stuttered. "I think we should stop trying to come up with such over-the-top ideas for this. I mean, whatever happened to the little things? We should go for something more simple."
The boss stared down at him for longer than was comfortable for Hugo, his eyes narrowed to slits. But he just nodded once. "That's good. I like it." He looked away, facing the rest of the room. "Take that advice," he pointed to Hugo. "Now, go. Be back here at three with your ideas."
Hugo watched him gather his files as everyone else left the conference room, not moving, until they were the only two left. He put the files under his arm and walked away.
Hugo stood up quickly. "Hey," he called to him, but he ignored him and carried on walked. "Wait. Please, Connor."
He watched Connor walk away and turn to the left. "I need to talk to you," he muttered. He felt people staring at him and glared. "What the hell are you looking at? Turn around."
He stormed away to his office and slammed the door shut. "How am I meant to do this if he won't talk to me?" He sighed sadly, "I don't blame him for not talking to me."
He sat down at his desk and ran a hand through his hair, then opened his desk drawer. He pulled out a photograph slowly, reluctantly wiping away the thick dust; it had been locked away in the drawer for the last three years.
They were by the lake at Hogwarts, laughing and carefree, a vast contrast to how they were together now. Now Connor spoke to Hugo only when he had to.
He ran a finger over Connor's face lovingly and allowed a single tear to fall. "It's all my fault."
It all came rushing back...
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