Cafeterias are normally uneventful places. In the 1,456 days which
I had attended school, (that's 4 years if you're trying to work it
out) I had proceeded through the sticky labyrinth of popularity and
obscurity, never witnessing a thing out of place. A characteristic
unusual of me.
That is, until I spotted the boy sitting at the table.
He was sitting with a dark-skinned boy much larger than himself,
and had been staring at the metal fork held in perfect balance upon
his palm for some time before I chanced upon him. The larger lad
sat across from him. He was ripping the meat and bone from the
mutilated chicken leg held awkwardly in his hands, absently spewing
food at his host from an infinitely wide mouth, the juices
trickling down the corners of its' gaping black hole.
The first boy with the fork upon his palm continued to stare;
unspoken, unmoving, uncaring.
His name was Lucius. Of course, the
name is unimportant at this point. Almost as unimportant, as
the 16-stone, dark-skinned lads' boulder muscles. As you already
would have gathered by now, I am extremely good with numbers, and I
am even better at observing things.
So anyway; this boy. I began to watch him from where I had decided
to take my seat, and I noticed that he was blonde. Once again, this
is irrelevant to the story, it was just a point I had noted,
another thing I observed about him, was the way his pupils refused
to dilate as they warbled in the daytime light as they watched that
fork. I have wondered many times what he was thinking as he stared
into his reflection upon that tiny metallic mirror. A very complex
mind must have complicated thoughts; however, a very complex man
has basic thoughts too, which is why I guess I have never been able
to understand what he was thinking.
After being unable to bare it any longer, I proceeded across the
fragile, mental walkway that was the distance between our tables. I
sat deliberately next to him, set my tray down and offered him my
hand, after which I was promptly picked up by the dark-skinned boy
"What do you think you're doing?" He grunted, I found it extremely
difficult to understand what he said, as he had his mouth full at
the time. Therefore, I ignored his question, and as I dangled a few
feet above the air, I turned my head to the still inanimate Lucius.
"Why do you continue to look at the fork, when only you can see
into your mind?"
To which Lucius replied, "I look into this fork and I see my
mind…cold, yet sharp."
Not long after I was sat down and we struck up a conversation. He
asked me to work for him, and I agreed. He was a very young
We both left school a week later, and began a company. Lucius
planned our schemes, with my expertise of calculations, and
observatory nature, we managed to evade the law for a very long
time. Together, we were unstoppable. We set our premises up in a
penthouse flat in London when we each reached the age of 20, having
gathered enough money and enough of an empire to do so.
We had taken young men off of the streets, the sort of dirty
laundry who mugged elderly women and young boys, and turned them
into hardened men. We did not turn them into criminals, we turned
them into our security.
I was 21 when Lucius brought home his first love. She was extremely
pretty, and blonde. Stumbling into the penthouse giggling like a
hyena and shouting inflammable words at me, he and his lover had
wobbled into the bedroom. I ignored the pair, she was drunk and he
was aroused. I had been focusing on the next days' scheme. I had
been working on it for some time, our final business deal, so that
we could retire from this life early.
I planned for us to rob the treasury.
Lucius and Number 1 had made love that night in the room next to
mine. For some reason unconnected to lack of sleep I had banged on
the plaster wall to tell them to stop being noise. I was not angry,
I just did not want to hear them make love like that. They refused
Number 1 had an unfortunate accident during breakfast the next
morning. Something deliciously cruel must have been within her
omelet to make her choke and beg for somebody to help her like
that. Lucius did not look into the matter.
Number 2 had been a rather small brunette. She had been rather
nice, and when I had met her for the first time she was sober. It
had been a shame that she had drawn more attention to their love
than the blonde did. A week after I had met her she had been in a
fatal car-crash. Shame.
Number 3 was me. Lucius had been postponing for months whilst
attempting to find a wife to hold his heir. He had given up hope
after he realised that somebody in the company did not want him to
That was, until me…
Lucius had joined one night as I had been beginning the finishing
stage of our plans. It had been just us both in the penthouse that
night, mercury wine had stroked our lips and tingled our senses
just as Lucius used to simply with his words.
That night we made love, and he made me fall in love with him.
We were in love for precisely 144 hours. At least, that was how
long Lucius loved
me. I never stopped you see. One night I had come back to
the penthouse from scoping the front entrance of the Treasury one
day for any changes. I had called his name 13 times, and I had
cried for 304 seconds before going to our safe to check for the
plans to the treasury.
They were gone.
The metal of the safe reminded me of the first time I had seen him,
and it made me think of what he had been thinking. Had he truly
loved me? Had he just used me? Had he seen this plot from the
start…I did not know. All I knew, was that I still loved him, and
tears flooded my skin for a further 3,809,401 seconds. They did not
taste salty, they tasted like shit.
2 weeks passed by, I re-planned my heist with those thugs loyal to
me and not our criminal empire. I did so in vain, watching the
papers for those 14 days, in order to make sure that you had not
attacked the treasury, I calculated your thoughts and your every
move in order to choose the day which you would choose to strike,
and so I decided to strike on that day too.
I was right.
So here we now are my love, in the cold vault of the countries
Treasury, and a gun pointed in your face, and I feel those tears I
had cried for 3,809,401 seconds coming back into my eyes, and I
feel my heart tripling its' rate.
I am unsure if I can kill you here my love.
So I will tell you our story once again.
Until I can find the strength.