I have tried my best to make our last two days count, to turn them into the most perfect, precious memory that I have so I can come back to them after he's gone.

Our fingers don't really fit together, yet not holding his hand is out of the question when he helps me out of the car and leads the way into the theatre. He's gorgeous in the suits he's always wearing, but casual clothes make him look so much more real - and show off his sculpted body so much better.

I lean against him from the side, awkwardly resting my head on his shoulder that bumps up and down in the rhythm of his steps. He turns his face enough so his lips can reach my forehead for a kiss. We're getting way too much attention from all the passers-by, but honestly, I'm not going to let any insult-whispering asshole ruin my last moments.

I've been on the verge of tears a couple times since that night, but I managed to hold it together fine enough. Gavrilo had wanted to do more of that vanilla sex thing that he doesn't do, but I convinced him that that wasn't what we both needed. He'd been rough to me afterwards, and the marks are still visible all over my body, except my face. I lost myself to him.

When we step in line behind the five or six people already waiting to buy their tickets, Gavrilo lets go of my hand to slip his arm around my waist. He smiles down at me. "I honestly don't remember the last time I went to the movies."

"Me neither," I tell him with a smile of my own that takes way too little effort considering what I'm about to do to him.

"But it's a really date-y thing so-" I stretch the o before breaking off with a shrug, causing Gavrilo to chuckle and place another kiss onto my head. He just loves to do that.

"Whatever makes you happy, love," he whispers gently. My chest warms as my heart flutters, though at the same time, tears prick my eyes, and I feel sick.

"You make me happy," I admit quietly, then kiss him. My stomach calms; his lips feel incredible. He breaks the kiss too soon, though, and we buy our tickets. Five in total because of course, there are three bodyguards dressed in casual wear sticking to us.

Inside, I excuse myself to go to the toilet. His presence is all I long for, yet it's suffocating. Whenever I look into his now familiar green eyes, he's looking back at me with so much love and compassion and trust that I'm drowning in guilt.

Despite my conscience screaming at me to fake sickness and get Gavrilo out of here, I go to the stall at the far end of the room; if there's a message, it's in there. My hands are shaking when I push the door open, and the colours around me seem a bit dim. I lock myself in, take a deep breath, then fumble at the bin until the trash back comes loose and I can reach beneath it.

I squeeze my eyes shut when I feel the familiar texture of a folded paper, and stay like this for the span of three breaths. This will all be over soon.

'Don't forget to buy some snacks.'

"Yeah, whatever," I mutter and crush the damn message before throwing it into the toilet and flushing it down. There was a code for anaesthetics on it so apparently, someone's just lying in wait to drag him off.

It'll be over soon. Soon.

I rub my forehead, attempting to chase away the tension before I go back to Gavrilo. He's already holding out a bag of popcorn for me, and there's a ginormous cup of theatre brand coke on the stuck beneath his other arm.

Soon, I think and smile at him, taking the popcorn. I pop one into my mouth, then hold another to his lips, but he shakes his head.

"No, thanks."

So much for drugging him.

I can't pressure him into eating, and no one can blame me for that, so I sigh in relief. Still, that leaves me with a bag of potentially drugged popcorn that I'm supposed to devour all by myself.

"Your loss," I reply with a shrug and stuff another bit of popped corn into my mouth.

He puts a hand onto my hip, squeezing firmly, then pointedly says, "My gain."

I frown at him because of the apparent hint that slightly bruises my ego. "You're saying?"

"Come on," he laughs, then gives me that look. He raises his eyebrows enough to exaggerate, and one corner of his lips pulls back mockingly.

"I'm perfectly content with my current weight, thank you."

"Yeah, we'll talk about that next time you work out for hours, then eat a single apple."

"My breakfast consists of 650 calories," I declare sternly, but he just laughs again. His fingers dig into my muscles, sending a jolt straight to my groin

"Sure, love," he says with a smile that lets me know this discussion isn't over yet. He drops the topic for now, though - and that means we're never going to talk about it again if things go as planned.

I smile when he pulls me close and kisses me before we go to our seats. Gavrilo sips at the coke before handing it over to me.

"More sugar?" I ask, and he sighs.

"Drink."

I glare at him while I take the straw into my mouth, sucking the awfully sweet liquid onto my tongue. He frowns at me, and after another ten seconds of me slurping defiantly, he looks increasingly worried.

"Mike?"

"What?"

"That was drugged."

I blink confused, thinking that no, the popcorn is drugged before I realize that maybe, I'm wrong - and he's right. Which means that I just downed a heavy dose of whatever had been supposed to knock him out. I curse loud enough for people to turn their heads in our direction, then bolt with Gavrilo following close behind. I throw myself over the first toilet I can find and push my finger down my throat.

I retch, but not much of that stupid coke wants to come back up. The popcorn does, though.

"I need some bread or something," I tell Gavrilo matter-of-factly, and he relays the order before crouching down next to me. He rubs my back.

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything, but I-"

He doesn't need to say more than that, and it actually hurts that he doubted me, though he was obviously right. I sink down next to the toilet with a groan, one arm slung over the thankfully cold seat.

"I'm hot," I remark with a prominent slur and blink to regain some focus. Gavrilo says something, but I doubt its important and even if, I really don't care right now. I rest my head against the wall. My eyes drop shut.

"Gav, I'm tired," I mutter right before he picks me up. Enjoying his scent, I nuzzle his neck to get more of it and earn myself a kiss on the head that makes me moan lazily.

Everything's becoming fuzzy.

"I'm sorry, Gav," I mumble against his skin, unable to keep my need to apologize in check any longer. It's not like he'd know what I'm talking about anyway and hell, I'm a bit delusional here, so he's just going to think I'm rambling.

"No, it's okay, love. Just stay with me."

I yawn.

"No, no. Hey, don't sleep."

His voice is far too soft for me to heed his words.

"Mike? You need to stay awake, Mike."

"Matthew," I tell him with a frown, shifting to get more comfortable.

Gavrilo's grip on my body tenses. "Mike, I'm sorry but not now. You have to stay awake."

I shake my head because obviously, he misunderstood. "No, not Mike. It's Matthew."

He says something about still not understanding that I'm too tired to make sense of, so before I drift off, I repeat one last time, "I'm Matthew."

-

I wake up in Gavrilo's bed, feeling disoriented. My head seems ready to explode, and I press a hand against my forehead to push back against the pulsing pressure. Groaning, I look up when the door opens, expecting Gavrilo but it's just Jack.

"What happened?" I ask and grimace at the way my voice resonates in my head. Jack sighs before handing me some pills and a water against the pain that I down eagerly. "I feel like I've been run over by a truck. What was that?"

"I think you know well enough," he tells me, and there's a sharpness to his voice that chills me. I drop my hand from my face to stare up at him. He's wearing his sunglasses, so I can't see his eyes, but his hand resting on the colt is tense. I'd feel light-headed if I wasn't this hung over.

"What do you mean?"

When he doesn't react at all, I take a shaky breath and go through the events of the last evening again, remembering the shocked look on Gavrilo's face when I literally annihilated the coke that had -very apparently- been drugged. I don't know how he'd known, but I guess it doesn't matter now because I fucking spelt it out for him not ten minutes after.

Cursing under my breath, I drop my head into my hands. I screwed up big time and now, it ends.

"A word of advice; when you go talk to him, don't lie."

I nod though I'm perfectly aware that anything else is out of the question.