Page 23 of Pistols and Plush Toys

Elliot lost his breakfast almost as soon as he was returned to his room and locked inside.

Panting there on his knees, he weakly reached over and flushed the toilet, looking on in despair as the little bit of sustenance he’d managed to eat disappeared.

After several long minutes, he managed to force himself up off the floor and shakily rinsed out his mouth and brushed his teeth before taking a long drink of water to try to ease his cramping stomach.

Mattia had killed people.

Mattia had killed people and Elliot was with him, had been with him for five years. Elliot was dating a man who killed people.

Elliot was just a chef. He knew how to make a Béchamel, how to chiffonade vegetables. The closest he’d ever come to breaking the law was when a guy in one of his college classes had let him know he had a truffle guy who could get Elliot a hookup if he wanted it.

And his boyfriend had killed people.

It made Elliot sick to his stomach all over again to even think about it, to fully let the thought sink in how stupid he’d been. How naive.

Mattia had always said that he dealt in weapon sales, but he had made it out like he dealt in antiques. A family business. Not…not…

Elliot had been so stupid. He’d been to all those parties Mattia always made them attend together. He’d seen how some of the people Mattia introduced him to… had a certain look about them. Like there was a darkness just under the surface.

But Mattia told Elliot to keep his nose out of it, so he had, never summoning up the courage to ask for further details after his tentative questions had been met first with deflection and then later with scorn.

He’d simply allowed himself to believe what Mattia told him, that Elliot wouldn’t have a head for the details, wasn’t informed enough to understand the intricacies of the business.

Mattia had said the weapons he imported were collectibles, and Elliot had been too foolish and blind to suspect that Mattia wasn’t telling him the whole truth.

Nikolai had taken Elliot because Mattia was doing something Nikolai didn’t like.

Going back on a deal Nikolai had said. Elliot was under no illusions now that Mattia’s “family business” wasn’t much more sinister.

Mattia had killed people. Nikolai had been the one to deliver the information, but why would the man lie?

He already had all the power over Elliot.

Certainly making Elliot turn on Mattia wouldn’t make Mattia more likely to cut a new deal.

And Nikolai had been so furious and upset over the fact that Mattia had hurt someone.

Elliot sat on the bed and hugged Apricot, alone in his bare room with barred windows, and couldn’t stop his shoulders from shaking. The worst part…

The worst part was that Elliot didn’t know what he could even do with this new information. Because either Mattia didn’t submit to whatever it was Nikolai wanted and Elliot—never left this place alive, or Mattia did and Elliot was returned to him.

Mattia, who would be furious with him.

Mattia, who had killed people.

Was there any reality where Elliot made it out alive?

It was looking less and less likely with each passing day.

Elliot had had… thoughts about leaving Mattia before.

Years ago. After Mattia had hit him for the first time.

But then he’d imagined actually trying to do it.

How angry Mattia would be. By then Elliot had known intrinsically how Mattia could get when he was angry, even if he hadn’t before been violent.

And where could Elliot have gone? To the friends he hadn’t talked to in months and months?

His dad and stepmom, who had built their own new life together with Elliot’s half-siblings and who hadn’t even sent Elliot a Christmas card since he moved out for college?

Elliot had no savings, no steady income to try to start over on his own.

He didn’t even have his own bank account anymore, separate from Mattia.

It had been the cowardly thing to take the easy path and stay. To try to make things work. To just try to be better so Mattia wouldn’t have reason to be so angry with him.

Stay the course until he succeeded, or until Mattia grew so sick of him he threw Elliot out anyway.

He sniffed and rubbed at the apple of one cheek, remembering the painful bruising there from the last time he’d made Mattia lose his temper. That had been for something small, something stupid Elliot had said or done—he couldn’t even remember what it had been about, now.

If Mattia didn’t kill him outright when he returned, the brunt of his anger would be so, so much worse for this.

Elliot swallowed and moved to lie down on the bed, wincing when he straightened out his bandaged leg, the movement pulling at the torn skin of his knee.

Nikolai was a lot like Mattia, at least in the way he got upset.

Elliot was hurt in some way, and then there was the sweet make-up. The promise not to do it again.

It was familiar territory, at least.

Except, thinking about it now… Elliot couldn’t remember a single time that Mattia had ever actually apologized to him, in the way Nikolai had. In their fights, Elliot was the one who’d done something wrong. Everything was always, always Elliot’s fault.

“I wish you wouldn’t make me do this to you, babe. You know it hurts me to see you like this, don’t you?”

He tried to imagine Mattia on his knees, tending to one of Elliot’s hurts. It pulled a wet, raw laugh out of him, the idea was so ridiculous.

He turned toward the closed door. It was still too early for Nikolai to come and get him for lunch. Elliot still had no way of telling time while in his room, but he knew that being sick hadn’t taken up that much time, even if it had gone fuzzy while he’d knelt on the bathroom floor shaking.

Still, he wanted to see Nikolai again. Even though Elliot hated how stupid he’d been, unaware of what Mattia had done, was willing to do, now Elliot was desperate to know more. He needed to know more about who exactly his boyfriend was. He needed to be aware. No more ignorance.

Nikolai was the only person who could answer Elliot’s questions.

He gave Apricot one last squeeze and then hid the plush toy back in his backpack.

Nikolai had seen Apricot several times now, and certainly the man couldn’t have missed the giraffe with the way Elliot had been clutching it when he’d been dragged out of bed that morning, but so far Nikolai hadn’t said a thing.

Not one derisive remark—not even an eyeroll at seeing Elliot with something so childish.

It was an unexpected thing about being here. A nice, unexpected thing.

Still. Elliot didn’t want to press his luck.

Nikolai got angry the same way Mattia did—sudden and without warning, even if he did apologize after the fact in a way that Mattia didn’t.

Elliot didn’t want to risk Apricot being the fallout the next time Nikolai was upset.

Elliot could weather bruises and skinned knees well enough.

Getting another plush snatched out of his hand to be ripped apart or shoved into the garbage would be—

It would be hard. It would be so much harder.

Eventually there was a rap on the door.

“Come in,” Elliot said.

The door unlocked and opened, and there was Nikolai.

“Ready for lunch?” He asked.

Elliot was.

***

“I’m get you something,” Nikolai said just as they were finishing up lunch. It had been mostly silent, Elliot’s insides twisting at the thought of asking Nikolai more about Mattia. He’d tried his best to eat what he could. All he could hope was that he didn’t lose it again.

Now he was thrown off-kilter. He’d been waiting until after he’d eaten to try to bring up the difficult subject so he wasn’t put off his food, but hadn’t been expecting Nikolai to be the one to break the silence.

“You… got me something?” He asked.

“Yes,” Nikolai said. “Wait here.” Then he was striding from the room.

Elliot blinked after him owlishly. Nikolai had just… left him alone? But Nikolai never left him alone. The only time Elliot was ever left unsupervised was when he was locked in the bedroom, bare of anything Elliot could use to aid in escape.

He cast a furtive glance in the direction of the kitchen.

Nikolai had been so adamant that Elliot not be allowed to be free to get near the knives or other kitchen tools, but even if Elliot was a more defiant or brave person, he couldn’t even imagine that trying to use a weapon would do anything but end very badly for him.

Maybe he didn’t expect to get out of his situation alive anymore, but there was still no reason to speed up the clock.

Instead, Elliot started to clean up the dining room table.

Nikolai had ordered from Red Chile again, maybe as a peace offering, and while Elliot had only finished half of his burrito bowl, he didn’t want it to go to waste.

He placed the cover back on the take-out container and then gathered it and the rest of the uneaten food and took it into the kitchen to put in the fridge.

Then he went back to the dining room for the used napkins and empty containers and plastic utensils to take them to the trash.

Nikolai had silverware of course, but Elliot was just now realizing that maybe they weren’t using it because a metal utensil was a better weapon than a flimsy plastic one.

Elliot had just finished stuffing the garbage into the trash when Nikolai strode into the kitchen, face a thundercloud. Elliot froze with one hand still over the trash can as Nikolai’s piercing blue eyes swung in his direction.

He watched Nikolai look him up and down, followed by Nikolai glancing through the opening that led to the dining room, then to the knife rack, which was untouched, then back to Elliot.

Elliot hopped a step away from the trash can and rubbed his damp palms on his pants.

“Thank you for putting food away,” Nikolai said after a moment. He was holding a paper bag with string handles, which he set down on the kitchen counter.