all the roads you took came back to me

Mikhainon was a number of unsavory things. He was a tyrant in his kingdom and a plague among his enemies. He was a playboy, a liar and a murderer. Get enough alcohol in him, and he was even occasionally an arsonist.

He was not, however, a tax-dodger.

When Mikhainon ensured the city manager that Gomorrah wasn't going to take up its space, he meant it. Mikhainon spent weeks trying to organize his receipts and he was almost done with his work last night.

Unfortunately, instead of sucking it up and going for that one, last push, he opted to party downstairs instead and spent an ill-recommended night with a whiskey-drunk girl who spilled the last of his decanter's brandy all over his tax forms. Lesson learned: that was the last time he was going to sleep with a witch with a tramp stamp.

"I'm sorry, sir, I-I'll get the rest of the forms from the back room."

Mikhainon squeezed his temple and closed his eyes, sighing. The young boy behind the counter scrambled to the back room.

Could this day get any worse?

@"ReD"

Mikhainon was so rarely caught off-guard.

This, in this form, out in broad daylight — This caught him off-guard. How did Lochlann know about Gabriel? How much of his activities was he aware of? How deep did this rabbit hole go?

The worst part was that Lochlann decided to do this in public. Lochlann made a show of this and now all eyes were on them. Mikhainon couldn't lash out or ask questions. Lochlann cornered him using social conventions of decent behavior.

Well played.

"Lochlann," came the voice of an ex who had had enough. He sighed wistfully. "I can't... I can't do this anymore, babe."

There was a crowd gathered around them now. Even the young boy behind the counter was clutching to Mikhainon's poor tax forms with glossy eyes and a shaking fingers. It went unsaid, but everyone's expressions seemed to plead Mikhainon to take him back.

If they were only aware of the things he did to Lochlann, he was pretty sure they wouldn't feel the same way. It involved less 'comfort' and more 'torment', but there was still the same amount of self-discovery involved, he'd give him that.

Lochlann could play a crowd. Mikhainon could respect that. They were back to their usual game, and while Lochlann rigged this round with such a bold first move, he would find some way to come out on top. He always did.

He took a step forward and touched Lochlann's cheek lightly. He was looking down, expression hesitant, but the way he shyly glanced up at him made it seem like he was... hopeful?

"I never thought I'd hear you say that." He closed his eyes. "All this time I thought you took what I did for you for granted. You were drowning me, Lochlann. I couldn't take it anymore. I had to leave. I..."

A dramatic pause for the crowd.

He was having fun already.

He looked up at him, eyes burning with rekindled interest. "I'm willing to give us another shot."

They were kissing almost tenderly. Thank god Mikhainon was sober. He'd be retching in disgust otherwise. When his eyes opened, he saw the happy looks of the people around them, and he couldn't believe they were falling for this romance movie crap.

He placed his fingers over his and took the flowers into his arms. A stray fly made the unfortunate decision of flying into one of the venus flytrap's mouth. The plant's sharp maw then snapped shut and ate the insect alive.

Aw. Fly traps were his favorite.

For added effect, Mikhainon's eyes were glossy with incoming tears and his face flushed from all the excitement. He nodded reluctantly. "All right."

The crowd started clapping. People were honestly amazing.

Mikhainon turned around and took his slightly crumpled tax forms from the young boy's hands. "Thank you, sir," he said as he folded it and tucked it into his blazer's inner pocket while the boy reeled back from embarrassment.

He smiled at Lochlann shyly, placing a hand on the small of his back. "Let's go?"

Mikhainon snorted. "I got that from all the letters you were sending."

In fact, he was pretty sure Lochlann would pursue him sooner or later. Mikhainon noticed he was thirsty. It was then he opted to tease him and leave him unsatisfied. He expected more begging and licking his shoes rather than a public display, however.

He was instinctively walking back towards Gomorrah, opting to walk in silence with Lochlann. Once they were out of the busier Downtown street and into the Strip, the place was practically empty save for drunks sleeping on the sidewalk, hobos, shady dealers and daytime hookers. Daytime's boring metal signs substituted the night's gaudier neon lights. It was so much less vibrant.

When Mikhainon was more than certain nobody was looking at them, he pushed Lochlann into the nearby empty alley and swiped his feet so he'd fall down on the ground. He wasted no time straddling his waist, one hand firmly locked around Lochlann's neck, the other pulling out his silver dagger from his blazer. Gabriel might've been physically different from Cecilia in almost all aspects, but the posture, the dagger and the way his bright yellow eyes shone like a cat remained the same.

He pressed the sharp end to Lochlann's neck. He wanted to make it clear that any sudden movements from Lochlann would result in his neck being slit.

"There we go. You want to talk? Let's talk."

He grinned with pure sadistic amusement. "What do you want? How did you find out about this form? How much do you know about my activities?" He lowered his upper body so his face was only inches apart from the other man's. "Don't think you can pull bullshit on me. I've been to your head. I know how you lie."