Sapphire Eyes and Diamond Accents
“You can spend minutes, hours, days, weeks, or even months over-analysing a situation; trying to put the pieces together, justifying what could’ve, would’ve happened... or you can just leave the pieces on the floor and move the fuck on.”
― Tupac Shakur
-(December 15th, 2023)-
Sometimes a man just had to move on.
There were times when one simply had to sit back, look at themselves in the mirror, and reflect on a situation with a clear and concise kind of eye. Perhaps take a step back, admit that you weren’t always right, that you had made the wrong choices, or that some things just weren’t meant to go how you wanted them to go.
Unfortunately, Mikael Mariol wasn’t the type.
On the fifteenth, he woke up with a knot sitting tight in his chest. He stood, went to take a piss, and while he was washing his hands, he glanced up at his reflection and found weary sapphire-colored eyes staring back at him.
He looked like he felt.
Pissed off.
Betrayed.
Fucking bitter.
His eyes fell to his neckline, and it sure as hell didn’t help to see the bruised, mottled skin staring back at him. The mark was ragged; an ugly yellow-purple brand blossoming around a deep scarlet and black horizontal line carved into his skin. The cord Caleb had used had cut into his flesh in certain places, and damn near left him a permanent daily reminder of the choices made two weeks ago.
He was just now beginning to talk comfortably after that shit show. At random times, he found himself staring off, reliving the shock of that moment. The whole night, from knocking on Christian’s door to waking up in the van under a loaded pistol, gasping for air.
It didn’t make him reticent.
He didn’t feel sorrow, melancholy, or self-pity.
Mikael was fucking furious.
Every single moment he thought about Caleb Walker and Christian Miller, that moment of being choked out, of having his goddamn property yanked away from him by that blond god-forsaken sociopath, just fed the fire inside him that wanted reparations.
He wanted his goddamn deal, his dues, and his time back.
He wanted his pride reclaimed, and that was the crux of it.
Above all else, he wanted Christian back. In that, there was no deviation in his mind.
He hadn’t stopped thinking of the man, his betrayal, or his abrupt launch away from the course they had been on. A course that had been diverted by a singular other individual who had cut those ties with sharp green eyes and blown it all to Hell.
It was a bitter pill to swallow.
He knew one thing for sure. While dressing that day and taking great care, finessing into a black-on-black Armani suit that fit his large body like a glove, Mikael guaranteed that he was getting his back in triplicate.
He fixed his cuff, looked back at the imposing reflection in his full-body mirror, examining himself with a critical eye.
He looked sharp. The high collar of his turtleneck looked intentional and not like a cover-up. His dark hair was fastidious and manicured in a high upsweep, and from hair root to shined shoes, he looked classy, sleek, and polished. He added a diamond-faced LUC and a slim platinum chain to the ensemble and, in the end, looked exactly like what he was.
Like a man who didn’t fucking lose well in his life.
He knew Christian, too, and he also knew Caleb. Very well. Twenty years’ worth of “well”. Luckily, Mikael was a patient man and knew his old friend well enough to know that Christian would slip.
Somehow, in some way, something in that skewed brain chemistry would wake the hell up and shift gears. Mikael knew one day soon that Christian would open his eyes and realize who the hell he had actually crawled into bed with, and frankly, Mikael was counting down the minutes.
After all, no matter what else it was, Mikael had never lied to the man.
When he told Christian that Caleb Walker was the Devil, he had meant it. For a man who had grown up around them all, even on the outskirts of the life they occupied day to day, Christian could blind himself like none other to the glaring gaps in people’s psyche, and he did it on levels that baffled Mikael all the damn time.
Mikael had no doubts that Christian would learn the hard way. One slip-up on that end and Mikael knew Caleb would flash his real face in a heartbeat. One day soon, the blond would demonstrate exactly why so many terrifying people gave the man a wide berth or stepped lightly where he was concerned.
It was just a matter of time, but you know, Mikael was thinking that when the time came when Christian did slip, well, he’d be real happy to be there waiting to catch him with arms wide open.
He’d scoop him right back up, bring him right back home, and then they could have a real long chat over what the words “commitment” and “loyalty” meant in this world.
The thought made Mikael’s lips quirk in humor before he straightened his spine, put his Desert Eagle into the holster under his arm out of sight, then grabbed his car keys.
Until then, it was business as usual, but fuck if Mikael would ever forget or forgive a damn thing in his life.
