No Strings Attached | ?

        I can feel myself drown in my own panic at seeing Jonah here, in the super secret base, knelt down and silenced. It pains me to see him in such a state--after all, I've only ever seen a few baby scars on his limbs which he claims are from work--but it pains me even more to realize that I'm the reason he's so battered.

        I flinch a step forward, making an attempt to get to him but, before I can move any closer, the guy on his right raises his arm and twists. I can hear Jonah scream into the duct tape covering his mouth, the noise muffled and drenched in agony. I cringe and step away, already about to pull my hair out. I feel like I'm losing my mind, and it's only been a minute since I've seen him.

        The macho man stops twisting Jonah's arm instantly and straightens his posture, looking at me with such attentiveness, just waiting for me to make another move. And I want to. I want to make a move and save Jonah, but I know that if I do it'll just cause him more suffering.

        I turn back to Necksnapper, eyebrows furrowed and irises holding fury. Goddamn bitch baby go die.

        Necksnapper looks at Jonah himself, but only for a brief moment before he's once again facing me.

        "He heard everything." He says gently. I can feel my face become paler. I give another glance at Jonah, one just as brief as Necksnapper's, but I still catch on to mini details. His police uniform is dirtied and stained with a droplet of blood here and there. From what I can see, both his jawline and cheekbone are bruised--two places I frequently kissed; two places I want desperately to kiss more. I feel my heart sink.

        "He knows you were playing him this whole time now, Finley," Necksnapper continues. My jaw and fists clench. I want to shut him up and just choke him to death--if he even has a neck--but I don't find the will in me. Should I really kill him? In all honesty, he did me a favor. A shitty one, yeah, but I should've been the one to tell Jonah about this. I should've been the one to drop him and leave without a word. From the beginning I've tried to get away, but I ended up never doing so. Jonah's just . . . so Jonah. Captivating and wonderful.

        "He knows you just slept with him to get the information you never got. It wasn't out of love that first time, was it Finley? It wasn't a blissful experience that you wanted to do over and over and develop something out of, was it? You did it simply because there was something that could feed your greed waiting for you at the end of it all." Necksnapper hums, amusement resting on his face. I think I might go insane. I look to Jonah again, and again, and again and again. Never once does he look up to stare back at me; never once does he willingly acknowledge my existence. I can just guess that he's trying his hardest to block everything out--block Necksnapper's words out, block my retorts out, block every existing thing out. I don't blame him, I'd do the same thing if I were him, but I'm still pained having to know that he's no longer there to defend me, even though he's only a handful of yards away.

        "Pity," Necksnapper continues bluntly, eyeballing his nails like a diva, "under different circumstances, I would've both let you go free if you, Finley, had gotten the information I needed. I could've let your lives blossom together, become one through marriage, but I suppose all the best things have an end to them. This is where you die, Antonio Finley. You and your lover.”

        What good does that do me? I think furiously. Even if in an alternative scenario Fat Fuck lets me and Jonah go and marry or whatever the fuck he said he'd let us do, I'd still have to live with the burden that I told him something that could be bone-crushing in Jonah and I's relationship if he ever found out. Whether in this universe or another, Jonah and I's story would've always been a tragedy.

        As I'm about to flip a table and lunge at Necksnapper, I hear the strongest of yelling coming from the rooftop of the base. Everyone freezes, and finally Jonah looks up. He doesn't look at me, god no, but he focuses on the ceiling as if god himself has appeared to take him away from this hell.

        I can't help but melt from the sight of his eyes. Although he refuses to look at me, I still get lost in him. His eyes, although tired and weak, shine with such a fierce gleam that it takes me by surprise. He's such a strong man, a strong soul. I want to kiss him. I want to kiss him so badly. I want to kiss him and have him allow me to kiss him and just smooch his everywhere and apologize until he accepts me again.

        But I know nothing's ever that easy.

        I'm too caught up by Jonah that I can't hear anything until the sound of a bomb explodes and a chunk of ceiling comes falling down above us.