BEN ARRIVED back at Arles\' place, still fuming from what had transpired at Kerr\'s apartment, but now the pain was starting to hit him, squeezing his heart at the rejection he\'d received because of another man in Kerr\'s life.
Fuck them all! Fuck everything and everyone! Fuck being polite and holding it in and sleeping with someone he didn\'t love and not sleeping with someone he did. Fuck all the pain that came with Kerr and the detachment that came with Arles. Fuck Ichabod, fuck him for asking Kerr if he could stay. Fuck Lazarus for giving Ichabod to Kerr. Fuck the Oligarchy who had let Ichabod be a gift. Fuck them in the first place for making him Declan\'s pet when he didn\'t want to be. Fuck Declan for scarring him and manipulating him so much that Ben didn\'t know what and who to trust anymore. And himself, he could go fuck himself, for letting them all tug at his emotions until there was nothing left but anger.
He\'d intended on fixing everything, on letting down his guard, lowering his defenses and putting all his trust in one man, only to be scalded, burned, cut, hung out to dry, whatever other saying there was for feeling this empty and sore.
He glanced at his car sitting in the parking space, unable to drive it because he\'d been saving up to fix it. He hadn\'t wanted Arles charity. In a way, it was a blessing, because he\'d started stealing from his victims, a ten here, a twenty there, in order to gain some money for the mechanical problem. He had a little over a couple of hundred dollars, and now that could be his bond money for a place of his own. So, his one prized possession would now be lost.
Clothes, he needed his suitcase of clothing, so that he could at least survive a week without having to do laundry. Arles had bought him some things, but he would leave that behind (except the underwear and socks). He was worried about meeting his sire in the apartment when he went in, but he sensed Arles wasn\'t in - though he could feel him close by. Returning perhaps? Maybe going, if he was lucky.
He\'d prefer to leave a note, something short and simple. \'I\'m moving out, I\'ll catch up with you later.\' That would be perfect. He had his suitcase out and was hurriedly folding his clothes, dumping them inside when he felt Arles in the apartment. Now he was throwing socks inside, very close to finishing packing, except he needed his toiletries and stuff. He\'d prefer to take as much as possible that belonged to him, as it wouldn\'t eat so much into his finances otherwise. Checking the pair of socks that he had his cash bundled into and finding it, he shoved it into the suitcase and closed it, just as Arles appeared in the doorway.
He would find Ben with the suitcase before him on the bed, throwing him a guilty look.
"I\'m moving out," he said, stating the obvious, before Arles could ask him the redundant question of \'what are you doing?\'
