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Playing God


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Warning: Scenes of Domestic Violence and Other Traumatic Events

October 15th, 1969 - Paris, France

How long had he been sitting there staring at the same imperfection on the marble top dining room table? Julian's rantings had become a hum in the background while blue hues stayed focus on the same spot that seemed to be the only visible imperfection within the household.

Well, aside from the aching, purple mass that had started to form on Augustine's cheekbone. Why would someone who was so obsessed with everything looking perfect tarnish the cheekbones he swore he adored on the man he claimed to love above all else?

No tears this time. The tears only made him more upset. For now August would just remain quiet and still as to not antagonize him further.

Loud footsteps began to close in causing the smaller man to instinctively look up from his favorite imperfection. His jaw clenched with anticipation to see what it was he did this time. As of late, it seemed breathing had become an offense to his significant other. Back in the day he would playfully tease at him, asking what it was this time.

That would only help him acquire another crack to the cheek.

"You cut your f-cking hair?! And you didn't ask me?! You didn't think about how that would affect me?!"

Trivial, as always. A blank gaze followed the larger male as he paced in a childish rage. August knew what this was about; a hidden clause in the relationship he never had expected.


Julian held all the cards and he knew it. When they had met Augustine was living in an old friend's restaurant while working as a dishwasher and all-around errand boy. The wealthy bachelor had seen Augustine from a booth cleaning off tables and avoiding any and all attention. For weeks he came to the establishment attempting to gain the attention of a particular busboy.

The man was persistent. And handsome. Despite the twenty-year gap he didn't seem a day over thirty; a fit body and finely sculpted facial hair. Everything about him attracted August, and the money was a bonus. One night and a hundred-dollar tip laid the groundwork for the catastrophe of a relationship he found himself in now.

Julian had provided expensive clothing, fancy food, a luxurious shelter, everything August never really got to experience. Of course, it was clothing the man wanted to see August in, food so he may keep his body how Julian liked it, and a home in which he could be caged in and showed off like pet.

Julian didn’t care about love or a symbiotic relationship. All he wanted was something beautiful to flaunt about and do as he pleased with. Augustine’s body was at his owner’s disposal.

A hand gripped tight at his hair. Reaching up he attempted to release the man’s grip that pulled him from his chair, dragging him across the kitchen floor. Julian had routinely made sure to remind Augustine of just how strong he was; those muscles weren’t simply for show. Claw as he might the grip was solid. Next thing he knew he was tossed across the kitchen into a set of cupboards causing glasses half filled with glass and liquor falling around him.

”Look what you make me do! I give you everything you could ever want and yet you continue to defy me! Why do you do this to me, amour?!”

Another crash, this time across the room; probably the bottle of whiskey he had almost finished. Augustine’s eyes glanced down to find shards of glass had found their way into his hand. The adrenaline had begun to numb his senses, but not enough. The sting of alcohol in his wound brought a hiss through his grit teeth. As if summoned Julian knelt next to him, a look of pure disgust on his face.

”Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” he slurred. ”Just, you make me so angry sometimes. I don’t mean to hurt you, you know that, right?”

The hands that had caused him pain had begun to pull the shards from his hand in a surprisingly gentle manner. Augustine couldn’t look at him, he wouldn’t look at him. It was the same song and dance as usual. His lover would have tears in his warm, chocolate hued eyes and all evidence of the monster that terrorized him would wash away.

A towel was wrapped around his bleeding hand before a soft kiss was placed on his temple. The façade was beginning to break; Augustine was beginning to break. A stray tear fell down his cheek and his lips began to quiver.

”Amour, none of that, none of that.” Softly, Julian removed the tear from his bruised cheek. ”I’m sorry, baby. Let’s go clean you up.” August felt his body begin to lift from the ground into a bridal position in the large man’s arms. It was truly humiliating to feel so weak, so insignificant in the man’s presence. He dared not look in his lover’s face. So many times in recent memory had he flashed back to his dark days in foster care. The manipulation, the evil forced upon him by his foster father. The touch that made his skin crawl and stomach churn.

As of late he had begun to pinpoint the similarities in the two which only deepened his disdain for the man he once believed was his true love. How naïve he had been.

What was he to do? There was nowhere he could go. He had no money to his name, and he be damned if he went back to living on the streets. This had to work out. There was no other option.

”Okay, Augustine whimpered weakly, ”I’m sorry.”

Always sorry. And a promise would be made that it would never happen again; but it would.

And Augustine was always in the wrong.

Always sorry.
August 06, 2019 12:05 am


October 21st, 1969 - Paris, France


Augustine stood with his hand reached forward after releasing a dart in the direction of a bullseye board across the room. Just off center was where it lodged itself. Slowly he took his right hand into his left, rubbing the scars that had been gaping wounds almost a week ago. Luckily his stitching was rather impeccable leaving few reminders of the night's transgressions. Those that did remain were minor and hard to see.

Another dart was retrieved from the nearby table. Taking a moment to line up the shot the inhaled, then released.


This time it was dead center. A tired smile teased at his weary features. Being out of the apartment was a godsend. When he returned Julian would surely have a coronary over his little pet being out and about. Even worse, in a bar. In a sense, he was thankful his lover worried so much but in another, he was fearful of the punishment. With another toss of a dart he let his worries fade. Right now, it was just him and the darts.

And the odd man staring at him from across the bar. Now and then from the corner of his eye he'd check to see if his audience remained. Was his hand-eye coordination so impressive?

Once all the darts had been tossed, he turned to where he had rested his empty only to find a familiar man leaning on the table, holding a newly refilled glass. Augustine flinched at the man's sudden appearance. "The f-ck!"

A soft chuckle left the pale man's lips. "Dry martini, right?" Pushing the beverage in Augustine's direction he continued."Forgive me if I made you uncomfortable. I just find your dexterity," his hand motioned to the dart board, "most impressive. Tell me, how did you gain such marksmanship?"

Already put off by the man's desire for conversation Augustine found himself at a loss for words. Socialization had become an alien concept to him on account of the fact he rarely allowed to leave his glass case. A hand took the martini glass tentatively as he tried to summon words that were neither 'Uh' or 'Um.'

"Back in foster care, all I had was a dart board. It's the only entertainment I had. I began to learn tricks, make obstacles. It's almost therapeutic."

Stopping, he cleared his throat. Had it really been so long since he spoke to someone aside from Julian that he couldn't help but spill his guts? Another chuckle left his partner. "No need to be embarrassed," he assured Augustine, "is this not why we go to bars? Free therapy to anyone who will listen?"

A smile began to spread across Augustine's features. Such kind gestures were foreign to him, and from a stranger nonetheless. The man pushed back a mane of dark black hair that perfectly framed his sharp features. Truly, he was a sight. A jawline for days, eyes green as an open field, and clothing of only the highest quality. Slowly his smile faded, realizing just what was happening.

Just as Julian had reeled him in, so was this man. Attempting to depart, he moved away from the table.

"Look, monsieur, I appreciate the drink, but I am spoken for."

Upon revealing his status, the peculiar man let out a fit of laughter confusing Augustine further. A pale hand gestured he return in which he obliged if for nothing but his own curiosity.

"No, no, it's not like that. Yes, you are an attractive man, but I assure you I only want to talk. No funny business." A pinky was extended towards Augustine. "Promise."

A finely plucked brow arched at the man's childish display of trust. However, Augustine found it comforting; inviting even. Their pinkies locked and the pact was made. For the rest of the night the man exchanged tales of his exploits for those of Augustine's days of survival. One thing that stood out about the stranger was how he did not pity the fact his conversation partner's struggle with abandonment and homelessness. In fact, he admired the fact someone could survive it all.

"Not many could survive life on the street," he said before taking a drink of his own dark beverage. "And the foster system is flawed. Your case proves that." Their conversation had gone on for so long Augustine lost track of how many martinis he had consumed, but his mind was beginning to swim. Glassy eyes watched the man as he spoke. "Now, what of this man? This Julian? Tell me about him."

In his compromised state the eyeroll could not be held back. As if to make a point he downed his whole martini in one go. "Julian then, or Julian now?" A humorless chuckle left him. "Back in the day he was as perfect as they got. Handsome, in shape, rich, and kind. Now..." His voice trailed.

A cold hand rest on top of his own, snapping his attention back to the male across the table. His evergreen gaze gave Augustine a sense of peace. With a sigh, he continued. "I do not love him. In fact, I despise him. However, I have no choice." Lips pursed into a cynical pout. "Nowhere to go. No money to my name. Hell, the tab here is under his name! I can't even drink without having his thumb pressing on me."

There was a moment of silence. The stranger lowered his voice so only Augustine could hear. "You are a lion, and he fears that. You are a lion whose mane and scars bring him envy. You roar louder than he ever could, so he cages you." Unbeknownst to Augustine his eyes began to well up at this revelation. It was as if the man had somehow taken a hold of his mind and steered it in the correct direction. Without any rhyme or reason, he was believing the man. "I think it's time you showed this sheep just how loud you roar, mon lion."

No longer in control of his actions he stood from his seat. It almost felt as if adrenaline had taken the reigns while his right mind took a back seat to the action. Do as he may to try and stop himself, he continued out the door of the bar. The stranger’s words rang deep in his mind on repeat. Whispers of his calming voice bounced around; directing him.

Suddenly, he was back home standing just inches from the front door. Already, the air was tense. On the other side of the door a scene much like the one from a week ago would surely unfold; possibly worse. His hands began to shake with pure fear as he reached for the knob. Just as he took hold, the words returned. They whispered to him in their soothing, yet empowering tone.

Roar, lion. Never cower again.

Something changed in him. What had been sleeping dormant within him for almost three years had begun to rouse from its slumber. Turning the knob, he opened the door to his metamorphosis. No longer would he tremble in another man's presence or smile for the sake of appearances. Fire burned in his crystal blue hues as he stepped inward. Sitting across the way with his face in his hands, surrounded by his own destruction, was a sheep.

A sheep who had outlived his usefulness.
August 06, 2019 10:29 pm


Gazing about the wreckage that was Julian's home, Austine's cage, little emotion filled his features. In fact, the indifference was not because he hadn't processed what had transpired; he simply did not care. This was not his home. these were not his belongings. Much like a parent before a child mid tantrum the toys he broke were of no concern. He would be without them for no fault but his own.

Nudging a smashed acoustic guitar to the side caused a sound that gained Julian's attention. Dark brown eyes were filled with disgust and contempt for the nonchalant Augustine. And yet, still he did not care.

An eerie silence lingered between the two while the smaller male moved about his rubbish laden cage. A loud click of his tongue finally broke the tension. "I see you have been busy." Pale fingers grasped a miniature glass feline that had fallen from all the ruckus. Dusting it softly with the tips of his fingers he gave it a once over. Already he could feel the large male rise from his chair.

If looks could kill, Augustine would have been a part of the mess he stood in. Julian truly believed himself in the right for such childish behavior, didn't he? he always spoke of how he was bullied as a young, albeit rich, child. Always powerless. Maybe this was his way of getting back at the kids who tormented him?

"I'd rethink your next move."Augustine didn't need to see Julian's visual confusion at such a bold statement; he could feel it. The confidence in the man's movements had faltered giving the young Frenchman a leg up in this situation. "You know, I think I loved you once. Or, at least, I told myself I did."

Words hissed from between Julian's grit teeth. "What do you mean? I am all you f-cking have you, little sh-t."

Heavy footsteps pounded their way towards the smaller man. "I gave you everything, I'll be damned if I have you disresp-" Just as he came into Augustine's space there was a blur of movement. Against Julian's head the feline had been bludgeoned tossing the male backwards, his hand pressed to the gaping wound on his temple.

Ice cold eyes watched the larger man struggle to his feet while he inspected the blood on his hand in grave disbelief. "Y-You struck me! What has gotten into you, amour?" Typical. Now he was the victim. As if he hadn't thought about tossing Augustine around like a rag doll to make a point before he was clocked in the head by his beloved little statue. Holding the bloodied feline's head firmly in his hand he made a slow strut towards his lover.

"What has gotten into me?" His voice was ominous, calm. A sliver of his mind questioned whether he snapped or not; was this a psychotic episode? had Julian pushed him to this?

No. This was a long time coming.

"You know, I went to jail as a teenager. Homicide." Taking a seat on the nearby sofa he would spread his arms out, looking more relaxed than ever before. "My foster father. One day, something in me just...ignited. The horrors he enacted. On my sisters. On me; my body. Well, let's just say, I put an extra hole in him for each atrocity." As if to drive the point home he made stabbing motions with his blunt item. Julian's eyes widened with fear. Slowly, he began to inch away and towards the door.

This was not lost on Augustine. Standing up from his seat the man let out a loud sigh. "It has been so long since I felt it. This liberation."

Julian had managed to get to his feet and began to run. Alas, Augustine was already upon him smashing the glass statue into the large man's knee with a loud crack. Shattering into glass caltrops across the floor for his prey to fall into he gazed at what remained in his hand. A cat's head and long neck into multiple sharp, pointed shards. How convenient.

As the man laid there screaming in agony with hands grasping his broken knee Augustine straddled the man as he always enjoy. Teasing the sharp edges across Julian's chest and neck, he continued to speak. "You took me in because I was pretty. I was your flavor of man. You did not care for what I felt or what I thought-" Sputters of protest came from Julian only to be met with the firm back of Augustine's hand. "Manners."

Slowly the sharp edges were pushed into the large male's cheek ever so slowly. Pitiful whines escaped him. Any and all attraction the male ever garnered from Augustine disappeared with every drop of blood that trickled from his face. "You are not all to blame. I allowed you to do so. Out of fear, out of sheer desire to be loved. However, it seems our time has come to an end."

Just as large hands reached to grab him he raised his weapon to the side the swiped in an arc against Julian's throat. A fountain of crimson splattered across Augustine's brand new cashmere sweater. Gazing at the mess he let out a soft sigh. "Always a mess with you."

Rising from his position little attention was given to the gurgling man clawing at the his neck in some pitiful attempt at stopping the bleeding. Instead he moved towards the counter, lifting a porcelain jar to reveal several dollar bills flat against the container held by tape. He had to hide his cash somewhere and a health nut like Julian would never go near the sugar.

Pocketing the cash he meandered his way towards the exit of the building he placed his weaponless hand on the doorknob. Julian coughed and reached in his direction with a look of panic. One more glance was cast back at the man who had given him everything for the hidden price of his soul and dignity. No remorse. No regret.

No emotions at all.

"Goodbye Julian. The world will not miss you."

Turning the knob he went to leave but found himself colliding with something; someone. Before he could catch a glimpse at what blocked his exit there was a quick movement and he was suddenly flying backwards.

Augustine's mind had no time to understand what was happening when the thing had found it's way to his landing. With it pinning him down it's face found his shoulder where a sharp painful sting shook his body with a hot pain that seemed to envelop him. Choked by the numbness that soon followed he couldn't even scream. Slowly, the world began to turn black.

Augustine had finally freed himself. His cage doors were open.

And now he would die.

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