Villains & Beasts

12. Hell

Chapter 12:

“Fucking great,” Victor mutters under his breath when a very pissed off Milo marches out of the dinning table with a last warning for both of them to pack up and leave. “You just have to screw everything up, don't you!” a frustrated sigh leaves his lips when he remembers the hurt look on London's face.

No one knew that feeling better than Victor, wanting nothing but to impress the O' so Great Malcolm but failing miserably upon realizing that everyone is nothing but a pawn in his next game.

“It's not how it looks like!” Malcolm wills his muscles to relax against the back of his chair, he is feeling completely, thoroughly defeated. London is mad at him, Arrow wouldn't even look into his eyes, Milo kicked him out of the house and Victor is blaming everything on him.

“Well, it looks like you hurt my husbands and the human is mad at us, equally!” Victor reminds him, refilling his glass and refusing to leave the table and face the house of cards falling on them.

How did he think playing house with the devil would turn out exactly?

“He is not expandable,” Malcolm doesn't care to look at Victor as he speaks ashamed of his own words. “I chose him to be my right hand!”

“If you trust him that much, why don't you just tell him. Ever tried that?” Victor cocks an eyebrow, pushing all his negative feelings aside and shoving the bitter taste of envy to the depth of his soul. He always wanted to be Malcolm's right hand but he can't whine about it when London is obviously hurt by the devil's idiotic behavior.

“Tell him?” The question rolls on Malcolm's tongue like the foreign concept it is. “He will think I'm weak, and needy!” a grunt leaves the later's voice, standing up to his feet and pacing the room.

“What kind of nonsense is that? Don't you tell Milo all the time how badly you need him? Even when you don't tell him, you show him! Whenever he as much as insinuates leaving you, all hell breaks loose!” Victor stands up to his brother, catching him by his elbow to stop his relentless pacing and staring him down. “No one thinks you're week Mal,” his voice is softer, his stare loosing the hardness as he takes in the frantic look on the older's face.

“And it's okay to be needy,” swallowing the lump in his throat, Victor lifts his free hand, resting it into Malcolm's cheek, who leans into the warm touch instinctively.

“I can't afford to be needy,” Malcolm speaks in a barely audible whisper and if Victor's face wasn't so close to his, he might have missed it.

“Yes you can,” shaking his head gently, Victor continues to caress his cheek, taking in his features, the vulnerable, dejected look in his eyes and the hurt shining through.

Malcolm closes his eyes, feeling completely naked under the soft, understanding stare of Victor. He doesn't know how to react to it, he doesn't know what it means to be touched like he too can hurt. It's much easier to be hated and loathed than understood because when people see the monster he became, they don't think of the shivering boy in the Montgomery's dungeon.

When they see the shadows of the Dark Warlock, they don't see the outcast, the guinea pig who only gets to he adopted to be ripped open again and again. Strength is an armor, power is a mask but evil? Evil is the identity behind which a lanky boy from nowhere protects himself.

“They will love you regardless,” Victor adds after a beat of silence, trying to divert his mind from the tingles running up his palm at the innocent contact with Malcolm's touch. Yet, carefully choosing his wording, refusing to include himself in the picture.

Deep down he knows he can't go there with it. Little does he know it's that exact word that snaps Malcolm from his little vulnerable moment, bringing him back to reality with a scoff and a tight push, sending Victor few steps back.