Work Text:
Sorry, No Returns or Exchange
The beat was smooth, the florescent lights were hypnotic, and the people were attractive. In every direction there was someone pretty to look at, someone pretty who was looking at you, and someone prettier everyone wanted to be. There were glasses in every hand and a sway in every step, glossed lips and turned up collars. Everyone was having a good time in the heart of the club.
Eggsy was having a marvellous time.
“Let me buy you another drink.” Charlie said beckoning for the bartender with that confidence that was actually arrogance wrapped in privileged modern youth. Eggsy could overlook that (he usually had to, in his line of work), especially since that privileged modern youth was handsome, moderately charming, and happy to pay for his drinks.
Eggsy grinned, cheeks pink and head starting to fuzz.
“Much appreciated, bruv.”
Charlie leaned in, eying Eggsy’s mouth like a parched man stumbling across a river.
“Handsome guy like you deserves all the drinks he wants…”
“You tryna get me drunk?”
“Do I need to?”
Eggsy’s preferred bribe was with a handful of money, not to mention getting laid drunk was just asking for trouble. But money wasn’t Eggsy’s motive tonight. Tonight he wanted some plain old fun, fun with a cute stranger to feel like he was young and wild again. He wasn’t old, though, nor was he particularly tame, but tonight was his night.
Like all rich boys Charlie had a car that was made simply to show off economic status. It drove all right (though Eggsy couldn’t say the same for Charlie) and its interior was flawless. Black, sleek and ready to go, it was one of the better cars Eggsy had ever jumped in.
Eggsy took a deep breath, fighting the tingle of nicotine in his throat. He played with the cigarette between his fingers, scoffing at the fancy brand, and waved the smoke from his face. Beside him Charlie took a few puffs, clothes ruffled and haphazardly put together in a way that made Eggsy think he had never learnt to dress himself. Or perhaps Eggsy was just really good at throwing back on his clothes and looking casual after rushed sex. Either or.
They leaned against Charlie’s car, looking at everything but each other. There was little to look at though, the car park was dead and dreary, perfect for a quickie, but a real downer once the endorphins drained away.
Eggsy took another drag, pulling a slight face, and waved the cigarette around.
“You got a promotion or something? Diagnosed terminal? Marrying? Never had a guy so into it.”
Charlie chuckled, and flicked his cigarette away. “Was I that obvious?”
“So which is it?”
Charlie chuckled, voice cracking from the smoke.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He looked up, but his gaze was past Eggsy’s shoulder. “I’ll have to show you.”
Eggsy didn’t have a chance to defend himself when several pairs of hands shot out of nowhere and grabbed onto him. There was a moment of white hot panic in his gut, bright streaks of the nearby lamp posts as the world turned, loud scuffling, and he cracked his head against the ground.
When Eggsy woke he knew right then and there that this was by far the worst hook up he’d ever had, and he wasn’t even getting paid for it. He’d been beaten, robbed, insulted, and once had a pet goose set on him, but this was the worst; he was tied to a fucking train track, arms and legs.
His stomach rolled and his head pounded like an agitated neighbour on a shared wall. There was a stinging somewhere on his head, his cap was missing, and his already lethargic limbs failed against the ropes tying him down across a fucking train track.
“What…what the fuck...!” he grunted, pulling though he could gather it was useless, but he pulled harder when he saw past his immediate surroundings to Charlie who came to stand over him. There were three guys behind him, and Eggsy started struggling harder.
“Finally.” Charlie huffed, crouching beside him.
Eggsy twisted. “What the fuck! Let me up!”
“Calm down, all right? I need you focused.”
“For what?! Cut the fucking rope!” Eggsy shouted as loud as he could, looking all around for someone to hear him, and for the sounds of a train. He couldn’t die here like this, he had a family! His mum needed him! Daisy needed him.
Contrary to his panicked thoughts, Charlie motioned calmly.
“I will, I promise. I’m not going to hurt you. But something else will.”
Eggsy laughed hysterically.
“Yeah? What? I’m on a fuckin’ train track, o’course something’ll fucking hurt me!”
“No, not a train. Something.” Charlie got on his knees, expensive trousers and all, and leaned over too close for comfort. He almost seemed like a different person, all of his charm replaced by a wide eyed maniac who probably needed his meds.
Charlie must’ve heard his thoughts. He leaned back up and pointed in a direction, but Eggsy was too scared to look in case Charlie stabbed him in the neck—even if that was counterproductive when tying him to a train track.
“Look, something is going to try to get you, and kill you. I don’t know what the fuck it is, but I know it’s real, and it doesn’t ever stop.”
Eggsy had no control over his facial features. He was sure they were skewed up and communicating exactly how crazy he thought this guy was, so he put the extra energy to trying to get out a coherent sentence as the rest of him flipped out.
“All right, you’re fucking freaking me out, you happy? You win, joke’s over!”
“This is not a damn joke, you moron. It’s transmitted through sex. It was after me, so I gave It to you. It’s after you now.” Charlie reached over and cut Eggsy’s legs free, then pointed to his wrists with the blade. “I’ll cut you loose when it gets here.”
Eggsy felt a chill go up his spine, and it wasn’t due to the ice cold rails.
“What? What are you talking about?!”
Charlie’s lackeys were dead quiet, glancing around and apparently okay with this. Or maybe Charlie had threatened them too, none of them actually looked very happy to be here. It was quiet, still and empty, and Eggsy slowed recognised the area as an old cordoned off route near the industrial side of town. It was creepy as fuck and suddenly Eggsy would rather be hit by a train than whatever Charlie was on about. This wasn’t funny, he wasn’t okay. This wasn’t okay.
Charlie laughed bitterly, brushing his thick hair back. He hadn’t looked so mental earlier, had he? When had Eggsy lost the ability to judge people? Did Charlie spike his drinks?
“Trust me, you’ll believe me when it’s just you and It.” Charlie said, making a show of holding the knife in the hand furthest from Eggsy, as if he wasn’t the lunatic here. He looked around every few moments, eyes weary yet alert, something Eggsy assumed was down to the drink and smokes, and hopefully not a mental illness.
“I don’t know what it is, but I need you to do the same as me and pass it on because if it gets you it’ll just come right back for me.”
“What will?!” Eggsy burst, eyes brimming. He looked around too, for someone, anyone, to help, and surprisingly, there was someone, and his heart lifted.
“Who’s that?” he asked stupidly, because who would be wearing a tailored suit and shining black shoes and casually be strolling his way down an abandoned train route where junkies and serial killers lurked.
Charlie turned to look, and almost fell over onto his arse, scattering gravel.
“Shit. That’s It.” As he spoke his friends all turned to look, and looked as if they were about to run.
Eggsy twisted his head to get a better look.
“It?”
Charlie put a hand on his chest and looked closely at him, shifting demeanours yet again, this time from a lunatic to a concerned citizen.
“Don’t. Let it. Catch you. It doesn’t run or drive so you can outrun it, but you can’t fight it. You gotta just get rid of it!”
It was apparently an older man walking towards them.
None of this felt okay. All of a sudden trains and knives and crazy rich-boys felt like something Eggsy wanted. There was a gripping chill crawling up his spine and his stomach churned even more when the sound of crunching gravel became close enough to hear.
When he looked back the stranger was still coming towards them, and he didn’t look friendly. This person wasn’t going to help him. Eggsy still had some good judgement in him.
“Let me up. Charlie, let me UP!”
Charlie patted Eggsy chest, hair wild and eyes wilder as they watched the man approach.
“I’ve see you on Smith, you’ll be fine. Just pass it along.”
“You fucking prick! Cut the ropes! Please!”
Just when Eggsy thought he might vomit, Charlie cut the ropes. Eggsy sprung up like a slinky, falling this way and that from the drink and the hit to the head, and fell into Charlie who seemed to have the same idea. His friends all hurried behind both of them, blinking rapidly.
“Where is it, Charlie?” one of them asked.
“Just past the lamp post by the bin.” Charlie pointed. He nudged Eggsy. “Watch.”
Charlie pulled out a gun, and Eggsy knew again this was going to the worst night of his entire life, even as the gun aimed away from him, and Charlie shot twice at the stranger.
“FUCK!” Eggsy jumped back, throwing his hands back over his head as the man fell, breaking hard against the metal and wood.
This is fucked this is fucked this is fucked, Eggsy chanted in his head because he was too busy trying to keep breathing with his mouth.
He couldn’t get enough air, and just as he was about to try wrestle the gun from Charlie, the fallen man started to get up.
Charlie shook the gun towards him and then shook Eggsy by the arm, but nothing could distract Eggsy as he stared into the bleeding hole in the stranger’s face as he got to his feet and started towards them again. He was a few metres away, pulsing blood from his eye socket without a hint of pain, and already Eggsy was choking as his body shut down.
“Oh my God. Oh my God…?” he exclaimed, pointing as blood dripped down the man’s face and onto his suit, down onto his shoes and dribbling over onto the tracks. There was a great deal of blood on the floor, and Eggsy felt everything in his stomach rise.
Charlie grabbed roughly him.
“Do you understand now? Look, you look like a tough bugger, you can do it. I bet you run from the police all the time. Same thing.”
Another one of Charlie’s friends leaned in, bouncing on his toes. “Now?”
Charlie started backing off. “Now it’s time to go.”
Eggsy was grateful when the same hands that got him in this mess dragged him away. He couldn’t move, his body felt separated from his mind and all he could do was stare at the thing coming for them. Who could survive that? What was he? How?
They got into two cars and sped off as if the very Devil was after them. The distance was quiet a drive, but Eggsy registered little of it. Charlie dropped Eggsy off on Smith Street, practically pushing him out of the car.
The last thing Eggsy heard was a hastily thrown “Don’t die!” as they skidded off, leaving him to lean against a dirty brick wall and try to breathe. Getting his thoughts in order would be nice too, but he wasn’t sure what he’d just seen, and he felt sullied in a way he hadn’t had before, and that was truly saying something.
The night was still young, it was only quarter to twelve and the bustle proved so, but he felt tired and sore and he was sure his hair was matted with blood from the fall.
But it was nothing compared to the blood pouring from the man’s face.
Charlie shot him. And he got up. What had happened?
It had to have been a prank. A trick. Some kind of stunt. This wasn’t real. He was drunk. Drugged, probably. Charlie had drugged him, and he and his weird friends had...they’d...yes. He’d stick with that. He could handle it. He could understand that. He had hallucinated a man being shot in the face and getting up afterwards without a word or a shout. Who did that?
Leaning against the wall and staring down every street turned up nothing but more pain. Everything seemed to hurt and it was getting harder to see. He probably should see a doctor but that would just have to go onto his list with all the other probabilities in his life. He would have to get through this God awful night like everything else; alone.
God was merciful—everyone was asleep when he got home. Dean was out, and that superb, but Eggsy crept into his room somewhat guarded, eyes on the shadows, and crawled into bed with all his clothes on. He slept terribly, tossing and turning and yet unable to wake as he battled the unknown.
XxXxXxXxXx
When he woke up, Eggsy sat up with an immediate chill.
His room was empty, as expected and hoped, but the matted lump on his head was present and very real. It hadn’t been imagined.
Something had happened last night, his nightmares were real, but if his mind had conjured what he remembered as some sort of substitute for a far worse scenario, then his mind was a fucking demented place and he needed serious help.
He wouldn’t get it at home though, not with Dean staring at him the moment he trudged out his room. Eggsy ignored him, touching his lump, and edged towards his mother who was setting Daisy up a bottle.
“Hey, mum? Has anyone come by?”
“Who, babe?”
“Just…no one.”
He went over to check outside the door and down the corridors, but apart from some kids it was empty. He leaned back in and closed the door, and immediately Dean was there shoving him against it.
“I heard you weren’t working last night.”
Eggsy winced and held his head, turning away from Dean’s rancid breath.
“You heard wrong.”
“Did I?” Dean growled, his hands fisted in Eggsy’s jacket. He’d ruined so many fucking jackets like that that Eggsy literally didn’t care anymore. He used to care a lot, about a lot of things, but now all he cared about was the baby girl watching them from her crib. He tried so hard to keep going just for her. Everything else was losing its worth.
Michelle looked up, her mouth open with words she had long failed to say. Eggsy was on his own, and he got through it as he always did, and pulled out a few bills he’d nicked from Charlie car.
He shoved it in Dean’s face. “See?”
Dean took it and scoffed, and smacked him over his head before he could slip away. “Lucky.”
Lucky was the farthest thing Eggsy felt. He was currently transcending further into Hell, into a level where he was becoming insane and seeing things or the Devil had just deigned to come find him himself.
He left the flat quickly after. He stole a piece of dry bread and downed a glass of milk and gave Daisy a quick kiss before hurrying out. He didn’t have a destination, he just couldn’t be at home. For some reason Dean hated him, and he was usually more foul tempered when Eggsy was around. When not he was just as foulmouthed but that didn’t leave Michelle with black eyes so Eggsy often made himself scarce. It was like he rented a room; it hadn’t been his home for a long time.
Eggsy ended up in a random corner near Smith Street, but it was too early to bother finding customers and he certainly wasn’t in the mood. He debated going to the doctor about his head, but he’d woken up so that was promising.
But the fleeting idea of death and separation from the very Earth seemed incalculable when Eggsy saw him, a flash in the many faces going down the street. His entire body went rigid as the head bounced in and out of sight, eventually revealing the same man from the tracks. The same man Charlie had shot in the face.
It had happened, and he’d found him.
There was no bullet wound, no sign of blood, and most eerily no signs of life. Eggsy stared, mouth agape as the man walked towards him, his face familiar in the day light and as blank as a white sheet of paper.
There was nothing in his eyes. There was nothing in his presence or in the lines of his face, naught but the constant swing of his legs that seemed to carry the only flicker of life in him.
The only desire.
The desire to follow.
Eggsy bolted just when he thought he was done for, barely two metres apart. His breath was gone and so was the pain in his head, replaced with revitalising terror as he looked back, and saw the stranger changing course to follow him. Eggsy ran faster than he ever had before.
He must’ve run through all of town before falling against a store window and wondering if he was having an asthma attack. He got a few funny looks from passers-by, but none of them were the suited man, so he sat on his arse like a vagrant and sucked in air until he had breath enough to call his only two friends for help.
“Eggsy, bruv?”
“Eggsy, you okay?”
Eggsy squinted up, sweaty and miserable. Ryan and Jamal helped him up, glancing over him as they always did, but his injuries weren’t always visible.
“…I…I dunno.” He said, looking at each of them, and he instantly felt better. They hadn’t taken long to arrive, clearly out of breath, and they started walking him back the way they came.
“…Dean? Work?” Jamal fished gently.
Eggsy was definitely the insane one now. He rubbed his head and shook it a little, eyes on the pavement.
“…You won’t believe me. I don’t. But… but I think…fuck…”
Jamal leaned over to see, pulling his hand away. “Eggsy, what happened to your head? What the fucks going on?!”
They tried to stop but Eggsy kept going; he shouldn’t have stopped in the first place, that…person was still walking for him somewhere.
Fuck. Could he ever stop?
Eggsy’s knees buckled.
“...Something is after me.”
Ryan looked around. “…Like a dog?”
“No, like—I don’t fucking know! I saw it last night and I saw it this morning! This prick I met at Kingsman’s last night tied me to some fucking train tracks to prove it and he shot it but he just got up—”
“Wait, what—”
“He tied you where?!”
“Shot who?”
“Eggsy, what the fuck—!”
Eggsy waved his hands as he explained, feeling as mental as he knew he sounded but he truly didn’t care because he saw what he saw, Charlie’s words were bouncing all around his head.
“He shot it and it fell and I swear to God it got right back up. I thought it was some joke it was real, I fucking swear it was real, man.”
They kept walking, Ryan and Jamal sharing looks over Eggsy’s shoulder, while Eggsy scanned the streets.
Ryan tried to speak first.
“… Well, what was it? Like…?”
Eggsy kept looking around, his heart plummeting once when he saw a businessman climb into a taxi.
“It looks like a person. A bloke. A bloke in a suit. But it ain’t human. I swear. I looked right in its face this morning. It’s something else.”
Jamal slowed a bit. “Like a demon or some shit...?”
“Why’s it after you?”
“Because that Charlie prick gave it to me! He said it’s passed through sex, and now I’m its fucking target!”
Ryan smiled awkwardly at the people around them, and spoke in a hushed tone. “Through sex?”
“Target?” Jamal repeated, hands up and incredibly confused.
“To kill.” Eggsy hissed, rubbing the back of his neck as another chill hit him, thinking about those blank eyes.
His friends shared another look, and Jamal half shrugged.
“…A sexually transmitted killer…demon?”
“Demon, ghost, killer. I don’t fucking know. But it found me this morning.”
Ryan stopped them altogether, and jabbed Eggsy in the chest.
“Eggsy, this is probably just a big joke. These rich pricks probably do this all the time. They got the time to pull it off.”
“Yeah,” Jamal butted in. “...But my grampa used to tell me these stories—ow!” Ryan jabbed him this time.
“No stories! None of it is true. They just tryna freak you out, Eggsy.”
“It’s working!” Eggsy threw his hands up, shoving them both. Jamal latched onto him.
“C’mon, mate. You look like you need’a kip.”
Ryan grabbed him too, and they pulled him along. “Yeah. Let’s to my place. Take a doze there, yeah?”
“C’mon, Eggsy.”
Eggsy was too unfocused and helplessly grateful to decline. He just nodded and let them lead him, looking around for the man that was following him.
His night hadn’t been the best, and neither had his morning. Eggsy ended up napping on Ryan’s couch while Ryan and Jamal turned on the PlayStation. He slept for a couple hours, and woke refreshed. His head was cold and wet, apparently one of them had put an ice pack on it, though Eggsy thought it was a bit late, but it felt better than the frightening burning he’d felt prior.
The comfort only lasted until he properly awoke, and then it was gone. It was back to his warped reality.
“Thanks, guys. I gotta go.”
Jamal stood with him. “Me too. Check you later, Ryan.”
Ryan watched them off, before his mother call him in. Eggsy and Jamal walked out the building and onto the street.
“Home?” Jamal asked, pointing Eggsy’s way.
Eggsy smiled tightly and shook his head. “Nah…I gotta work.”
They both looked away, and Eggsy took the moment to peek down the street.
Evidently he wasn’t as stealthy, and Jamal looked too.
“…So…this guy gave it to you through sex? Can’t you give it to your customers?”
That’s basically what Charlie said, but Eggsy hadn’t realised how significant that was until now.
“…Yeah… But if this thing is out to kill…”
“Rather them than you.”
Eggsy scowled. “Ain’t that murder?”
Jamal put both hands on his shoulders, looking him square in the eye.
“No one is gonna miss the sort that come by Smith Street.”
Eggsy wanted to believe that, he did believe it, but he shrugged Jamal off all the same.
“Not all’a them deserve to be killed by some fucking…thing.” He shivered despite the heat, a sick roll threatening the empty contents of his stomach.
Jamal pursed his lips and looked away, shaking his head.
Eventually he shrugged, cocking his head towards Smith. “...Do you want me to stand with you?”
Eggsy cringed at the thought and pushed him off gently.
“Nah. Go home, your mum will be worried. If I see it I’ll run again.”
“You need to tell someone.”
“Who’s gonna believe me?”
“I dunno. A priest?”
“I’mma rent boy. Unless one’a them’s got it in for altar boys I don’t think they gonna help.”
Jamal appearing to believe him about this problem didn’t exactly help Eggsy out. It made him feel worse, it made it realer, and far scarier that there was no one to call for help. If a rich boy like Charlie couldn’t escape this, Eggsy had no chance.
“Well, we gotta try something.” Jamal said, throwing his hands down.
Eggsy smiled as best he could, and started walking off. “Yeah… Go on. See you later.”
“Call if you need us, all right? You know we’ll be there.”
Eggsy saluted, and marched his way to his usual corner. It was a little nearer to his usual time too, still too earlier, but there was nothing else to do. Eggsy leaned against the wall, and waited his time out. People came and went, some giving him knowing looks, both interested and disgusted, while the others didn’t even noticed him, just another punk kid on the street that no one would miss if something happened to him.
Luckily, ironically, nothing did happen to him, and Eggsy was fairly eager when his first car pulled up. He tried not to rush over, still glancing down the street.
“Hey, how much?” the man asked, a full beard, beer belly, and dressed like a construction worker. He certainly smelt like one too.
“What you want?”
“Just a regular old time, nothing fancy. Do you go by hour? I just caught my girl cheating, see, thought I’d come out…”
The rest of his words fell on deaf ears. Eggsy heard nothing as if by some force his eyes were drawn up to the exact place where he saw him across the road, coming straight for him in a manner that seemed, suddenly, more urgent than before. The people he walked past didn’t seem to notice, going about their afternoon as if they couldn’t see him. Even if they did, he looked like a normal man, until you looked into his face.
But they couldn’t, he realised. Charlie’s friends couldn’t either, Charlie had to point It out. Was that real or had Eggsy imagined it? He didn’t know what was real anymore.
“I’ll give you a discount for an hour, whatever you want.” Eggsy said, practically throwing himself into the car.
“All right then. Get in.” The man said, looking amused. “Someone’s eager.”
“That obvious?” Eggsy croaked, looking back for his attacker.
The customer turned. “Something wrong?”
“No. Just go.” Eggsy slapped his hand over the man’s thigh, his eyes latched onto the Thing, and they took off before It managed to get across the busy road.
“That was great. Thanks.”
Eggsy stashed the away the crumpled bills and adjusted his jacket one last time. He scratched his nose and patted his lump, none too subtly looking around already.
“Thanks. I’ll walk back.”
“You sure?”
Eggsy winced. Why couldn’t he have gotten an arsehole to make this easier? He felt sick and sore, he’d had miniscule prep time despite the patience of his customer and he was too busy staring out the windows to do his job, or at the very least relax. There was something following him and Charlie said it wanted to kill him.
As bad as he felt, he was more scared. He didn’t know how It knew where he was, but It kept finding him, and he doubted someone was keeping tabs on him and keeping up a stupid joke. This felt real, and he’d never felt such fear since the first time Dean hit him.
Eggsy took his time getting back to his corner. It was quiet a walk, but he made a few extra turns to prolong the journey, and hopefully his stalker. He didn’t see it again, and had two other quick customers before he called it a night, physically and mentally exhausted.
But he didn’t have a home. It was Dean’s home, and Dean was waiting for him.
“There you are,” The words were barely out of his mouth before Eggsy handed over the money. Still he had the audacity to complain. “This it?”
Eggsy shrugged. ”Slow night.”
“You’ll see slow when you ask for your dinner.” Dean pointed a finger in Eggsy face, and grabbed his jaw when he flinched away.
Eggsy tried not to struggle, it always made things worse, and closed his eyes as Dean growled in his face, squeezing his jaw.
“Still think you’re a free man, dontcha? Need me to show you who you belong to? Been a while, ain’t it? Do I need to?!”
“No! I understand!” Eggsy barked like a cadet to his commanding officer. Dean snorted, and shoved him away.
“Damn right you do. Now fuck off.”
Eggsy was all too glad too. He barely hit the bed before he was asleep.
Eggsy saw nothing for three days.
Three days was nothing for Eggsy.
He’d hardly slept, eaten or worked. He couldn’t do anything but think about him. It.
Half of the time he hoped he’d been having some kind of mental break down and simply imagined the entire thing, and the rest of the time he hoped the Thing had been passed on a dozen times that it maybe would get confused and forget him.
He wanted to forget because he believed. He believed it was real and he had come that close to finding out. He’d looked right in its face. It could’ve grabbed him.
He couldn’t stop picturing It. A man. It looked like a man. But those eyes, cold and unforgiving, unmoving. Sometimes he saw that in Dean, when he was especially livid. But there was fire and passion and good old human emotion there, something relatable.
But with this thing, he felt nothing. And yet he felt too much for this not to be real.
The next time It came back Eggsy was halfway through haggling with a customer. It appeared out of nowhere too, right around the corner and Eggsy wouldn’t have noticed if a dog hadn’t started barking, its owner pulling irritably at its leash.
It had been just a glance, an instinctual reaction, but all Eggsy had been able to think about was that face, and he recognised it in a second. Today he had glasses on, but it did not change the fact that the man walking towards him wanted nothing more than to literally grab hold of him. He wore the kind of zoned-out look that one would wear when staring at the sky while walking to work, if the sky was their actual destination and the person was too crazy to comprehend that.
Eggsy bolted. Customer and people be damned, he knocked them all out of the way if they didn’t heed his warnings. He wasn’t sure they were getting out of his mouth seeing as his heart was currently lodged in his throat, but it was fight or flight, and if a bullet didn’t stop It, what chance did he have?
He wasn’t going to bother finding out.
Eggsy found himself banging down Jamal’s door before he could think of a better plan, one that didn’t include luring an unknown entity towards his friend’s home.
“Eggsy?”
Jamal backed away to let Eggsy in.
“I saw it.” Eggsy said as he scurried in, hands on his head.
Jamal shut the door quickly, thank God.
“Are you sure you saw it?”
“I didn’t run all the way here because of a leaf, Jamal! I saw It! I saw him!”
“Positive?”
“Yes! Eyes are fucking blank, Jamal. Just walks like a fucking robot. It’s fucking real. Twice now he’s almost walked right up to me!” The thought alone gave him chills—no, it made him feel downright sick. And then Jamal made it worse.
“How does it kill people?”
Eggsy’s voice cracked and he swung his hands back. “I dunno? That prick didn’t say, he said he doesn’t know much.”
“Then we need to find him and give it back!”
“I ain’t sleeping with him again! He did this to me!”
“So do it back!”
“Then it’ll kill him and just come back for me! Or does it? I—….I gave it to-to a customer. O-obviously it-it-it tracked him down and killed him because now it’s back?”
Jamal took a whole step back.
“Fuck…”
Eggsy wiped away his tears. When had he started crying? His stomach was rolling like the Perfect Storm. Were the walls always so dark?
“Yeah. Shit! I don’t know—I—fuuuck!”
Jamal rubbed his hands over his face, took a deep breath, and started pacing.
“How’s it finding you?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know—I don’t know!”
“All right.” Jamal shrugged, and leaned over the far couch and pulled out a baseball bat. He swung it singlehandedly, and pointed at the door.
“If it comes here, we’ll kill it.”
“They shot it and it got back UP!”
“It can’t get up if we break its legs!”
Eggsy nodded, that was a logical scenario—maybe—and took to pacing too. They made a synchronised path, and it still didn’t help that Jamal was just as freaked out. Ryan should’ve been right, fuck.
“…I don’t think anyone can see it. Only if you’re infected. Charlie had his boys there and he had to point it out. This is so fucked. All I wanted was one fucking night off to enjoy myself. Get tipsy and fuck a cute rich guy for shits and giggles. What sign is this supposed to be? Dean cursing me? Twisted karma? Fuck!”
“Sit down, Eggsy. If you see anything, tell me. I’ll beat the shit out of it.”
Eggsy threw himself down, taking a few deep breaths and sat with his head in his trembling hands. He felt trapped and powerless. He’d felt those two things before, but never like this. He’d thought he was tough and resilient, but now he was scared out of his wits, and he didn’t know what to do.
And like every waking second of the last few days, nothing came to mind. Nothing came but the sudden banging on the front door, and both men nearly jumped out of their skin.
“You expecting?” Eggsy asked, his voice barely higher than the clock on the wall. His heart was back in a place it didn’t belong and he was sure he would drop dead. This was the end.
Jamal shook his head, bat raised and ready.
“No.”
Eggsy felt his gut sink. He wiped his nose and gestured to the door like it wasn’t already obvious, near dancing on his toes. “It’s him.”
There was a second series of bangs and Jamal lifted the bat higher, and leaned towards the door.
“Who is it?” he asked. Besides a dog barking from far away they received no answer. Eggsy bounced all the more, and started looking around for escape routes.
Jamal inched closer to the door, and peeked through the peephole.
“…No one’s there.”
Eggsy shook his head some more, and then pounced when Jamal reached for the handle.
“NO!”
“No one is there, Eggsy. I can hear the neighbours. Sasha is playing by the stairs.”
Eggsy backed up as Jamal gave him a firm look, a determined look, but at least he got into a prepared stance before unlocking the door and opening it a crack. Eggsy stepped back anyway, and it wasn’t for naught.
“…For real, there’s no—” The rest of Jamal’s whisper was batted away with him, straight over the back of the nearest couch. The door swung open with the force of a hurricane, and there stood the suited man.
“Shit! Jamal!” Eggsy exploded, jerking forward to help Jamal up, and almost immediately running in the opposite direction the man started in. It wasn’t a very big living room, and the Thing didn’t seem to be as one track minded as it looked. The second before Eggsy was closer to the door it changed course and jerked back around, body as stiff as a board.
“Where is he?!” Jamal shouted, scrambling up.
“There!”
Jamal jumped and swung the bat, missing by inches. But it was all too clear he saw nothing, nothing but his insane friend leaping over an entire couch and hurdling out of the door.
Eggsy ignored his calls and just ran, jumping and speeding past everything until he found a taxi, and made his way to the edge of town where it met the housing district. He sat beneath a street lamp until he couldn’t recognise the howl that was his voice.
Time didn’t seem to exist anymore. By the time the Thing reappeared, walking as calmly as ever, Eggsy couldn’t tell how long it’d been, and by then he was all cried out.
He stood with as much dignity as he could, and pointed at his follower.
“What do you want?!” he screamed. He screamed as loud as he could, hoping for some kind of a rise. Reactions from Dean at least gave information, but this dead creature coming for him left him feeling as useless as ever, and suddenly, as angry.
“Answer me! What the fuck do you want? Who the fuck are you?!”
The area was scarcely populated, a void bus top behind him and an old park on the other side. There was no one but a passing old man to witness him screaming at nothing, but it didn’t deter Eggsy from sourcing a rusty pole among the leaves and litter along the neglected side walk, nearly falling over just to get it.
The Thing was a few feet away by the time Eggsy found his balance and he swung, missing his mark splendidly and bursting into tears again when the reality set back on him.
He swung again, wildly, and this time it connected.
It would’ve been a lot better if it hadn’t connected with Its hand, or been ripped out of Eggsy’s.
On an even more surprising turn the man swung the pipe at Eggsy, missing only because Eggsy’s entire lower body gave in and he fell straight into the road.
The fall woke him up a bit and he got back his strength when the Thing threw the pole aside and kept on coming, apparently deciding it didn’t need anything but his hands to kill Eggsy. In the rush of it all Eggsy tried to see anything in its face, anything at all, and the last thing he wanted was to think he saw hunger.
That was all it took. A moment, a fleeting-most-likely-imagined connection, and he ran away.
At the very least, it reminded him exactly where a certain someone lived, thanked to their wallet.
“Charlie, you prick! Open up! Charlie!”
Eggsy half expected a butler to open the door. Charlie stuck his head out as much as was needed to show exactly how unwelcomed Eggsy and his banging were.
“What the fuck are you doing here? How’d you find me?! Where is he?”
Eggsy blocked every direction Charlie tried to spy down, and he was pleased to see Charlie looked as crazy as he was.
“A long way from here. Now take it back!”
“Excuse me?”
Eggsy shouldered in the door, pushing as Charlie shoved back.
“I said take it back!”
“You’re the one that jumped for a quickie after three drinks! It’s not my fault—”
Eggsy lost any pretence at that and kicked at the door, knocking Charlie back and finally letting Eggsy into the doorway. He didn’t go any further though, and raised a finger rather than his fist.
“It’s entirely your fault! You slept with me under false pretences! If you have a fucking disease, you gotta tell people!”
Charlie leaned back against the wall and breathed, lifting a hand for a respite, and then waved it.
“Haven’t you passed it on?”
“I did!” Eggsy barked, and it hit him properly for the first time since, as he stared at the man that did this to him.
He’d done it to someone else.
He’d killed a man.
Charlie panted, staring at him until Eggsy felt compelled to explain. But his mouth was dry, his shoulders tight and his stomach empty. There was little to summon.
“…It was gone for three days. Now It’s back.”
“Who the fuck did you give it to, a little old lady? Didn’t you explain?”
Eggsy leaned back against the door, knocking his head back once, loudly, and then his chin met his chest. “…No…”
Charlie shoved off the wall and scoffed at him. “Oh, looks who’s the giant bastard now.”
Eggsy shut his eyes against the guilt.
“You have to let them know, you idiot. They have to live to keep that thing away from you.”
The tears were back, angry, vicious tears that Eggsy wanted to unleash with his fist, but he was too afraid to waste all his energies here when he needed them to run.
“How do you sleep at night?” he croaked.
“Do I look like I sleep? I know I’m a sight for sore eyes but anyone can see these bags.”
It wasn’t a lie. Charlie looked terrible, and strange, like he was missing a ton of make-up and hair mousse. Eggsy chuckled weakly, morbidly glad for the shared company, and gave a courtesy look outside for the both of them.
“…Who gave it to you?” he asked, eyes on the road.
“Some little bitch. I was chasing her for years, and when she finally gave in it was only because of that. Look, just, you gotta deal with it or—”
“Or what?” Eggsy rounded back and cocked a brow. “It’ll come back after you? Maybe you deserve it. I’m not gonna go around ruining people’s lives!”
“Yes, you will!” Charlie shouted, barging up in his face, “You already killed someone. Maybe two, maybe he had a wife and he screwed her right after you. When you see It, you’ll do anything. We all know how it feels. No one can blame us.”
Eggsy shook his head, tears streaming and his palms burning, but the truth was undeniable.
“Fucking arsehole.”
“8 Milton Avenue, right over there. Her name is Roxanne. Go and cry by her, okay?”
Charlie threw him out, and Eggsy didn’t have the self preservation left to fight. He deserved this. He’d sent that thing after someone, and they’d died. Eggsy was next. He deserved it.
Roxanne’s address wasn’t far away. It was literally down the road where Charlie pointed, and Eggsy stood for a good half hour staring at her house until he idled up and rang the door bell.
Almost immediately, as if Charlie had warned her, a young woman answered the door. She opened it wider than Charlie had, but she was far more composed, and honestly she looked ready to shoot him if he took a wrong step.
“Yes?”
“Charlie gave it to me.” Eggsy blurted, giving a weak and pathetic shrug and honestly he wasn’t sure what he was hoping to get. Pity, maybe? A dose of reality? Her school-teacher expression suggested the latter.
Roxanne took a moment, glanced over his shoulder, and then sighed.
“…You shouldn’t be here.”
“I’m scared, all right? I’m scared out of my mind. I’m fucking terrified.”
“You should be if you slept with Charlie of all people. What, did he have to pay you?” She asked, crossing her arms and tilting her stupidly pretty face.
Eggsy mimicked her every movement—because he was just as fucking pretty. And pretty fucking petty.
“I’m a rent boy from Smith Street so yeah, pretty much.”
She stilled, brows popping, and slowly lowered her arms. She sighed heavily.
“I’m sorry. You really shouldn’t be here, it’ll make it hungrier.”
“It’ll eat us?!”
“I don’t know what it does.” She moved her shirt to show the side of her neck and right shoulder, and the multitude of fading bruises. “I just know it will try to kill you.” As Eggsy stared, mouth agape and chest heaving, she gestured to him. “...When did it happen? You and Charlie?”
“Couple days ago...”
“…You work on Smith?”
“Yeah. But that don’t make it easier to just—I can’t do this to other people! What is wrong with—!”
She knocked him on the chest. “Anyone would do it to you! You have to. And you have to make sure that person understands. It’s a pyramid, you have to make sure it continues down the line.”
Eggsy almost pulled his hair out. He spun in a circle and waved his hands frantically, his fingers like claws.
“But that doesn’t solve it!”
Roxanne wiped her forehead, sighing again.
“There’s no time to solve it when you’re running. Just make sure to pass it over, and watch your back. It’s not that hard to spot if you’re alert.”
“Forever? I can’t live like that!”
“You’re not the only one.”
“Fuck you.” It came out without any kind of filter. He meant it. Fuck her, and Charlie, and all the rest of them. Including himself.
She didn’t look upset as he felt. Maybe she’d come to terms with it.
“I’m sorry. Now unless you’re going to try rape me to give it back, please leave.”
Eggsy stumbled out of her door as if he’d been cracked with a whip. His face crumpled at the thought—was he capable of that, given that he’d already killed someone?—and he kept stepping back as she slowly closed the door, her face as blank as It’s.
What did he have left? What could he do? He didn’t want to kill anyone, but he couldn’t have this thing after him. He had to get rid of it. He had to, and he had to do it right so the person he chose survived long enough to pass it on—survived period. That wasn’t as bad, right? They could just pass it on, and that person could pass it on, and before long It is miles away from him, and Charlie and Roxanne and whoever is before them. How many people were before them? How long has this been going on? At least, with two people afflicted and still alive...it was a sad inspiration that maybe Eggsy would make it too. He had to do something. He couldn’t die yet.
Eggsy took a long walk around the neighbourhood, mostly inside his own mind, before the sun started to set, and he made his way back into the best club, Kingsman.
The music was too loud, the people were too pushy, and for the first time the drinks were too strong. But just like Charlie had Eggsy put on another face, lifting his collar and slapping on a secretive smirk that he aimed at nothing, a move he found that was exceptionally productive at attracting girls.
It wasn’t long before he found a mark, taking his time to make sure she was definitely eyeing him out before swanking over and taking a seat besides her. She was blonde and pretty, a soft face and pink lips that on any other day Eggsy would’ve charmed her so hard to get a taste of.
“Is it just me or does this champagne taste rank?”
“You should get one of these, they’re delicious.” She said, lifting her pink drink.
“I’ll take your word for it.” He stuck his hand out. “My names E—Gary. Gary.”
“Casey.” She shook his hand. Her hands were far too soft for defending herself.
He pulled on his collar, glancing around for a vent as sweat trickled down his neck, a continuous tap in his foot.
“You come around here often? My first time.” He said, lied.
“Really? I come here all the time.”
“It’s a good place. I like their music!”
“Me too. Want to dance?” She offered her hand, and he took it before she noticed its shake.
Casey was a dream, a dream that really seemed to want to include him. She took both of his hands and led him onto the dance floor, teeth sparkling as she smiled and twirled, dancing up against him as if she had all the time in the world. No matter how fast the music was she seemed to slow time, giggling just loud enough to hear. She garnered looks from everyone around her, turning more heads than most. She was lovely, sweet and exuding humanity and no doubt the desire of most of the people in there.
She could have anyone she wanted.
She would be fine.
She could pass it on in a blink.
“My place isn’t far from here if you’d like to come with me.”
It was the last thing on God’s green Earth that he wanted to do.
At some point the music became a grating drone and the lights a constant erratic flicker that started to make him dizzy.
Casey swirled in front of him, leading a nauseating collage of the rest of the club. Her distorted limbs reached out for him, her voice draining away into the beat of the music. All he could do was shake his head and back off, falling into person after person until he figured out which way his feet worked and found the exit.
The sky was dark now, and his hope darker. He heaved against the wall of the club, gasping and gagging until he finally threw up whatever alcohol he consumed. His entire body shook and his throat burnt, but it was nothing compared to the way his heart felt when he thought of what he had tried to do.
He felt like he wanted to die.
The only apology he could give the young woman was to keep taking step by agonising step away from her.
He was right, he couldn’t live like this, but he couldn’t live damning an innocent woman to such a thing. She went out to enjoy herself, have fun and be young, living her life. In the morning she would probably get up and kiss her mum, get ready for university, send her best friend a silly selfie. She had her whole life ahead of her and she didn’t deserve this. He couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t.
And yet, as he repeated the words over and over to himself, mumbling under his breath as he shambled through town like a drunk, the sentiment didn’t seem to apply to everyone.
It didn’t apply when he stumbled past a gang of men drinking in an alley. It didn’t apply when they nudged at him and mocked up and flicked beer at him. It didn’t apply when they tripped him and laughed. It didn’t apply when he lay on the ground wondering if a death by them would be easier than a death by his follower.
And it certainly did not apply when one of them kneeled over him and toyed with his zip.
Alone, angry, and missing a chunk of his humanity, Eggsy rolled over and played dead—where it counted. And he counted three. Three idiots out of the five who were drunk enough to drop to their knees and accept his dubious permission. They all jeered and taunted and every word, every push and pull was like another smash at his failing sanity.
These men would die, he knew it as he stayed still for them, but he felt no remorse. He felt an echo of his conscious, but every flare of pain tore away at it further. If he was to die, he’d take these horrid men with him. He’d given Casey a chance whereas they’ve given him nothing but mockery and molestation. Any other night and he would’ve thrown a punch and run like hell, but Hell was chasing him now, and he wasn’t going to survive it.
How could he do what Charlie did? He couldn’t ask Jamal and Ryan to kidnap someone after he’d basically raped them considering the false pretences, and then give them a welcoming speech into their new Hell. He couldn’t do it. This didn’t count. His customer had been a terrible mistake, he would regret that forever, and he’d regret even considering that girl, but this he could accept. He could let this happen and feel relief, a twisted, cruel version that would ease his nerves and prolong his life for just that bit. A bit longer to torment himself.
Maybe death was simpler… He just couldn’t find the bravery to face it. He was a coward.
The filthy ordeal couldn’t have taken long judging by the control he still had on his breath, and Eggsy groaned as the last man to have him stumbled away, scratching his beard and whopping like the drunken arse he was. Eggsy rolled around a bit on the ground, hoping beyond hope it wasn’t piss his hand had wandered in at some point, and took his sweet time shucking up his pants. The sky was sparkling, but that could be the wetness in his eyes.
By the time he found his way to his feet, ignoring and downright oblivious to whatever the men were saying, he was surprised to feel a sudden sharp jolt of adrenaline kick through him, after what had just transpired. His thighs, knees and arse were killing him, but it didn’t hinder the rush of energy that hurtled through him when he looked up and saw exactly who he’d been waiting for.
And at God’s mercy, the drunkards saw him too.
“Oi, grandpa, you lost?” one of them asked as It came down the alley at a leisurely stroll, eyes on the last man to fuck Eggsy. Eggsy basked in the moment, morbidly studying the entity from an outside point of view, no doubt the way Charlie had, but he got to his feet all the same.
“It’s gonna kill us.” He said matter-of-factly as the creature walked right at Beardy.
The man had only a second to step back stupidly, taking his confused, glazed eyes off of It for a moment, before he was doomed.
“What?”
“Run!” Eggsy shouted, giving them the smallest chance on account of his mourning conscious.
He didn’t move though, not like he wanted to, not like he should, and stayed to watch as the Thing grabbed Beardy by the neck, and yanked him in like a rag doll. The other two perpetrators jumped in to remove him and defend their friend, while the last two, who had simply watched, started yelling about what the fuck was going on. They couldn’t see him, but it didn’t matter. All four men were flung back by the mere swing of an arm, a strength in It that did not fit the age of the man It was posing as. It did not fit any man.
Eggsy watched just long enough to see and hear in vile detail the bearded man’s neck snap, and finally he turned and ran.
Eggsy didn’t see It again for a week.
XxXxXxXxXxXx
It was a tough week, no better than the first few days, and he deteriorated further. Food refused to stay down, sleep was impossible, but cold showers helped some times to jolt him back to reality. He napped in schedules here and there by either Ryan or Jamal, ruining his internal clock and he felt downright ill by the end of the week. Neither of his friends tried to convince him he was just imagining it all, they let him sleep and tried to feed him, whereas at home, Dean only saw a lazy worker.
“You call this a wage? You holding out on me?” Dean shouted, gripping Eggsy by the arm. He’d come home early, he literally couldn’t be out there another second or he was sure he would’ve passed out. He’d convinced himself that It was perhaps in the next town already, those men having skipped town when they realised it wasn’t any man trifling with them. It gave him a little comfort, comfort enough to face Dean’s wrath just to get some needed rest.
“I ain’t been feeling good! At least I’ve been getting! Not every day is a good day.”
“Don’t gimme excuses, you.” Dean clouted him across the face, despite having taken his money, and turned his face back just to sneer into his mouth. “You want Daisy to go hungry, do ya? Cause that’s what’s gonna happen if you don’t start pullin’ ya weight! You been slack all week like this is some sort’a holiday resort. Don’t make me give you a tour from my fist to the bedroom.”
The first time had been the last time. Eggsy had long made sure of that.
He swallowed his hatred and nodded until Dean was happy, and sidled into his room, kicking off his shoes.
He didn’t remember making it onto the bed before he blacked out, but that was far less shocking than when he woke, and saw that It was in his room.
“Fuck! No! Please!” Eggsy cried, mouth dry, voice thick with sleep and heart propelling nearly out of his chest.
He stood right there by the opened door of his room, looking at him with that single-minded stare that saw nothing but his target.
Eggsy fought his way out of bed with one hand up as if the man would listen to his incoherent blubbers. He fell to the floor and climbed up anything he got his hands on until he cornered himself against the wall. There was absolutely nowhere to go, the window was too small and he was petrified that as soon as he tried It would lunge forward and tear his throat from his neck.
There was nothing louder in the room than Eggsy’s heart, and if he hadn’t seen this thing kill a man, he’d wager his heart might be the strongest too. It felt like it was about to burst and gush blood up through his mouth and nose, effectively drowning him. Was this how it would kill him?
It made no move towards him. Every second staring into Its dead eyes was a lifetime of knowing he was about to die, and unable to escape it. Deserving it—both as a guilty criminal, and a tired victim.
Sleep derived and possibly down the path to the loony bin, Eggsy started crying. His knees wobbled, the floor seemed closer than usual, and there was a huge knot in his gut that was sure to expand and kill him if the pain in his chest didn’t.
“Please…”
It grabbed Eggsy, and Eggsy was now insane enough to wonder what exactly had lost those few seconds of lost time, his eyes or simply his brain.
He seized up like an icicle, stiff and cold to the bone as the man finally touched him, his stiff arm, pulling and pushing him like he didn’t weigh as much as he did. He’d always been fit, tough and hard as nails to survive as long as he had, and now he felt like cotton, like one of Daisy’s dolls, ready to come apart at the seams with one wrong tug.
He hit the bed before he knew right from left, and he pulled at the blankets to get away, but he was faced with a wall. He’d never noticed the colour until now, until there was a weight on his back and he thought he might throw up.
Then there was a tugging on his pants, and years of nocturnal instincts kicked in.
Eggsy threw his elbow back. It connected with the man’s jaw, but it didn’t garner enough space for escape. Eggsy tried, but he only made it over onto his back before the Thing was leaning back over him like an encompassing shadow and oh shit he couldn’t breathe.
The hands around his neck were cold and damp. A sickly shiver shot down Eggsy’s spine and he gasped, reaching blindly for purchase, and for the knowledge of what to do in this situation. He found neither but the sudden feeling that maybe, just maybe, dying would be the escape he’d been clawing for, and he should take it.
The pressure on his throat eased, and then disappeared altogether. Eggsy blinked at the ceiling, choosing it for his last sight rather than the suited man-thing, and sucked in his gut for the final blow that never came.
Instead another tug to his pants reignited his self-preservation instincts. He choked on his spit asking a question he couldn’t register, and watched his follower tug at the very centre of his pants, fingers curled into the buttons and zip, chilly knuckles against his belly.
Another tug accompanied by the most zoned-out expression possible, like when you stare out of a window and wonder what the meaning of life was. It was odd enough to make Eggsy irritable.
“N-no,” Eggsy said, moving his hand indecisively between pushing Its hand away and not touching It at all.
Tug tug tug
“Stop!” Eggsy shoved, removing Its hand and jostling It back.
It didn’t like it.
The creature grabbed him by the throat again and Eggsy saw black spots. The last thing he saw before his eyes rolled back was the flaring of Its nostrils and the determination, the dead passion, in Its eyes.
Death by strangulation it was. It wasn’t entirely a surprise, only Eggsy had thought for years it would be Dean who would do the strangling. God, why wasn’t it Dean in his place? Of all the people that deserved this…
There was more pain than actual asphyxiation, but little breath to express it. It felt like something was about to snap but Eggsy put everything he had into letting it happen.
He’d rather be rid of this nightmare—all of it, from It to his mess of a life—than spend eternity trying to run from It. Daisy would have to be okay, he’d tried his hardest. It would only hurt for as long as he was alive, so he choked away every breath he had, welcoming the pressure in his temples and hoping his neck would snap before he actually started to suffocate.
He held onto the bedding rather than It, and closed his eyes.
The pressure around his neck eased, and Eggsy gasped in as much air as he could before he could stop himself. His vision swam and he ached like one massive bruise, his throat sizzling likes coals. He felt like he’d fallen asleep with a hoodie on and didn’t wake up when he started boiling to death, and then drowned in his own sweat.
Eggsy cracked open his eyes and looked down to ask why, why was this being prolonged, why couldn’t he just get a quick death like that thug in the alley?
But there was no answer available. The man just…stared, his mouth a tight line.
What the hell was he?
Eggsy stared back. He didn’t have the strength to glare or freak out, both of which might make him feel better. Instead, he stared at the empty-eyed creature leaning over him, still as the dead and yet, there was something in his face. His face was as void as always, but there was a sheet of something over it, like breath over a mirror.
“….?” Eggsy tried, but It didn’t speak. He touched his throat despite his instincts not to move, and It immediately made him regret it.
It grabbed his jeans again and this time tugged on both sides of his legs, and the motive started to fall into place.
Jesus Christ
“The fuck…?” Eggsy frowned, watching as if he were a third party as the creature started successfully pulling his clothes off. Again It seemed more determined than usual, and not for the first time his self-preservation kicked in against his death-wish, but it was warped with confusion, and surprisingly, sick curiosity.
“No—? Wait—” Before his jeans could actually make it down his thighs he scrambled backwards, shoulders hitting the wall. Like a shadow It followed, crawling over him like a cage with intent quite clearly displayed now that Eggsy knew what he was looking at. This thing wanted. And it wanted him.
Hungrier
“Oh God…”
It had no breath, no warmth in its cheeks and little body heat. It had nothing, and it was here to take everything.
When those long, cold fingers curled their way back over his pants, Eggsy lashed out.
“No!” he shouted, glancing at the door and wondering why no one had come in yet. Was his mum dead? Had this thing killed them?
He shoved away Its hand and pushed at Its chest as hard as he could, but It didn’t budge more than a few spaces. It felt heavy, like a ton of bricks, its body hard and unnatural and hungry.
His complaints were met with the same response as before, a chilly hand of warning around his throat.
Eggsy went limp immediately, almost like a trained dog. He manually thought of surrender, letting go of his hold on It and just giving himself over like a sacrifice. He wasn’t sure what he wanted, death or more bits of prolonged life.
Instantly the hand released him, and Eggsy started to gather the big picture.
Eggsy breathed quickly, and watched as Its hand went straight back to his pants like a tape played on loop. Having—probably some time ago from the bombardment of fear and trauma—found enough insanity inside himself in the moment, Eggsy held his hands up again, and spoke.
“WAIT!” he shouted. Not that smart, he knew, but he had to try to get through to this thing and ask what the fuck is happening?
Astounding Eggsy, the creature stopped and looked at him with more eye contact than Eggsy was used to from another person. The hair on the back of Eggsy’s neck stood and he cringed. It was too close for comfort, looking at him as though It were actually paying attention. Maybe it was. It still showed no signs of breathing, but Eggsy held fast to his insane daring and tried to get his words together before It could lose patience.
Hands shaking, Eggsy touched Its chest lightly. Whether to feel for some kind of humanity or just to stall it, he wasn’t sure, but it kept It still until he finally unravelled his tongue.
“…Are…are you gonna stop following me if I let you do this? Or is…is this how you kill ‘em?”
The question didn’t make much sense given what he knew, and his follower apparently thought so too. It opened its mouth and wailed, giving Eggsy a fresh wave of goose bumps. The sound was long, morbid and stretched out, unnatural and frightening and incomprehensible. Eggsy didn’t know what to make of that and glanced again to the door, but he was probably home alone.
It was just as well. He deserved this. He’d killed those guys in the alley. He’d killed that customer. He’d almost tried to set this thing on that woman, Casey. He was a selfish bastard and he didn’t deserve help. He’d sinned, truly sinned, and this was his punishment. Maybe this was best, he could make it up by letting this creature kill him, eat him, have him.
But if he died, it would just go back after Charlie, wasn’t that the rules? And then Charlie would just go give it to someone else, and that too would be Eggsy’s fault. He couldn’t escape this. Maybe he’d simply die of guilt.
Eyes back on the ceiling, arms falling apart limp, Eggsy lay still as the creature leaned away, and started on Eggsy’s pants again.
It’s going to have sex with me, it’s going to have sex with me, it’s going to have sex with me, he said to himself, over and over like a broken record because this couldn’t be happening, until finally his pants came off, and his sweaty legs joined with the cool air.
His breath hitched and he watched his pants fly across the room, and then he watched his underpants being torn straight off his body.
This was happening.
“W-wait! Wait! Just wait, okay?” Eggsy cried out before he could control the pitch of his voice. His eyes were brimming with tears and he felt sick with nerves like it was his first time all over again. He’d done some weird people, but this would be the weirdest. Might as well go off with a bang, he cackled mentally.
The creature stopped and looked at him, and Eggsy took a moment to debate his choices before he rolled off the bed as quickly as he could, and slammed the door shut. He tried not to look away from It but when he turned back It was standing right behind him, an intolerant wisp seeping through the cracks of his mask. Eggsy wondered what he really looked like beneath the human face.
“We’ll do it.” he said softly, trying to get his breathing under control. All his blinking pushed his tears over and they spilled down his cheeks, but he wasn’t as sad for himself anymore. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling as he watched It watching him, just managing to tower over him like an angry superior.
This was happening.
He didn’t know what time it was but it was some time in the morning. His last customer must have been about ten hours ago, he wouldn’t be able to take this dry. He should though, he didn’t deserve an easy way out, but it was either this or angering it and having it kill him straight away. It wasn’t much of choice when Daisy kept haunting him. Maybe it was like a slasher-movie crossroads choice, sex or death. Maybe it was both, he’d have to wait and see.
Resigned, Eggsy held a hand up and edged calmly around It.
“We’ll do it,” he repeated as he reached back to rifle his top drawer for his lube. He lifted it up to show It, feeling exposed and rather prey-like standing there half naked while It was still clothed and still not breathing.
“I need this. It’ll help, but I need to put this on. Do you understand?”
There was no ‘yes’ or ‘no’, but there was some kind of communication garbled back at him. The sounds were haunting, sounding a million miles away and yet as though they were close enough to sink into Eggsy’s bones. He didn’t know what it meant, but he risked climbing back onto the bed, and he wasn’t attacked for it.
“We’ll do it.” He said again, as he threw off his jacket. The only things he had on left were his socks and shirt, but he had no desire to lose them. As pathetic as it was, it was a small comfort.
Not comfort enough though as It drew closer and climbed onto the bed like before, almost vibrating with intent.
Wildly, Eggsy wondered what he should be paid for this. A few millions, he reckoned, or his fucking LIFE, as he felt a little more of his sanity chip away when It grabbed its own pants this time, and politely tore the button and zip apart. It would be shame, the fabric seemed expensive.
But the little thoughts of distraction didn’t hinder the sight of It letting its cock out. At the very, very least, it was as normal as any other man’s.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit…” Eggsy shifted uncomfortably, lifting his legs and settling them on either side of Its thighs. He grappled with the lube, squeezing a big blob out.
The progression seemed to animate his follower. The man shifted closer with an almost human eagerness, pushing apart Eggsy’s legs more as if Eggsy was going to disappear at any moment. It clearly knew what it wanted and Eggsy had little to no time to wonder if this would lead to his death or his freedom. As miserable as he was, as scared, as angry as he was, the primal instinct to adapt and survive would out win all.
He pushed on Its chest to stall, and with his other hand rubbed the lube over himself. He was used to hasty preparations and it came in handy as he pressed in two fingers, pushing in as much lube as he could.
No attempt was made to strangle him again so Eggsy could safely assume it understood what was happening, or at least enough to know these wasted moments were leading up to what it wanted. Eggsy wasn’t resisting, he just needed to be ready, and at the very, very, very least, he was being allowed that.
Thanks to shaky hands and tight proximities there was lube everywhere. On Eggsy’s thighs, his arse cheeks, his balls, his entire hand and smeared over the front of Its pants. The only thing still relatively dry was Its cock, which Eggsy had flinched away from every time he bumped it. But there was little to choose from, and choosing comfort over pain he closed his eyes and pulled his slick hand over Its cock.
Still incomprehensible It reacted verbally, making creepy sounds into the stuffy room that may sound pleased, if Eggsy dared to guess. He was all out of sanity now.
He spread the lube as best he could, trying not to note details of Its unnaturally stiff, veined length, fuck, and let his whoring skills take charge. Maybe all those nights were to be thanked, he’d probably come out of this far less damaged than another person. A person like Casey. He shivered at the terrible thought, and stopped pulling. He lifted his arms and grabbed bunches of the bedding, and opened his eyes to see It.
It was looking at him closely, void of expression but Its nostrils were flaring, Its jaw might have clenched, and Its shoulders were high strung. Eggsy gave it a mental gold star for patience, noting to ask why, and made a prompting sound in the back of his throat that was more of a grunt than a word. But it didn’t matter, it conveyed the message, and Eggsy held on tighter as his follower leaned over Eggsy like he was owned and about to know it.
There were no juvenile, zealous human thrusts Eggsy knew. It took only one slick push and It impaled him, fiercely and confidently.
“Fuck,” Eggsy swore, flushing hot as a zap of desire entered him simultaneously.
He swallowed it down as he received another thrust, one that made him fill with bubbling desire as if he’d just taken a dose of ecstasy. He choked, and gave up the choice to be docile. He grabbed onto Its sleek jacket and twisted, pulling hard and trying to focus as his entire body tensed. But it didn’t remove the misplaced pleasure. Maybe he was just too well trained. Maybe he was just sick. Maybe he was already dead and this was his personal Hell.
His follower braced itself on the bedding much as Eggsy had, and got straight to the point.
There was no kissing, no petting, and no sleazy sex talk. It was down to business and calming in the strangest way. By now Eggsy had accepted the possibility of death should it come, he’d evaded the possibility of pain, and he didn’t have to pretend he was turned on. All he had to do was keep himself breathing and be pliant, and he found far more peace in it than should be normal. He rarely had sex for fun, and that’s what it should’ve been with Charlie…
He didn’t fight it, any of it, and he closed his eyes. The feelings intensified in unimaginable ways, all of them. Every thrust felt like divine, slick and wet and hitting his good spot like it were the motive. Everything inhuman seemed pronounced; where was the heavy breathing, the sweaty hands, the grunts and groans? The only heat between them seemed to be his, but all the energy seemed to be Its. He felt as tired as he had when he first woke, disorientated and scared out of his skin, as though he would lose consciousness if he didn’t make a valiant effort to stay conscious.
It helped that it was all simplistic, despite the intensity. It was just straight up sex, nothing fancy, nothing unexpected, sharp thrust after thrust that had Eggsy sporting a devastating hard on within moments. He didn’t reach for it, he was plainly sure he would come like this. It was crazy and insane and he was too tired to care anymore. He felt good for the first time in weeks, relaxed and at no immediate danger, receiving a terrible amount of pleasure from some kind of demon. Peace was the simplest term he could think of, as if he’d fought a long battle and finally reached the finish line, even if he didn’t know what the prize was. He didn’t care anymore, for the trials were over, and that was the prize he’d longed for.
Small sounds escaped Eggsy as he panted, eyes fluttering open all against his judgement. It just felt like nothing he’d felt before, and yet it felt exactly as if he’d been drugged. Tired and filled with feeling at the same time, somehow enjoying this for the dirty, wrong thing it was. His legs were moving without his prompting, lifting to hook but they were too weak as It fucked the very life from him in quick, determined thrusts. All Eggsy felt was want streaming from It like a waterfall, and it felt divine to quench that thirst.
Whatever It was, it brought Eggsy to orgasm quicker than any man had, hands free and like magic. Maybe it was, maybe it was a demon, Eggsy knew little as he let it take and take and take from him. Its clothes were silky and soft, but there was no scent, nothing Eggsy could recognise or file away as he panted against Its chest. Their bodies grew closer each moment until it was close enough for Eggsy to hear the distant sounds coming from its mouth, soft echoes from what could be Hell itself.
Eggsy didn’t fight off his orgasm when it hit him. His cock was trapped between them, pressed between his sticky skin and soft, warm fabric, given just enough attention that coupled with the pounding on his prostate he couldn’t physically hold it off—it was being drawn from him.
Eggsy cried out silently as he came, his gut tightening as it always did, but also against the nausea rolling through him. He gasped for air, suddenly feeling cramped and heavy-headed as the creature gave one last thrust and shrieked, slamming him from reality into thick blackness.
When the world returned, Eggsy was still too exhausted to be surprised. He looked at his ceiling through blurry, weary eyes, for a good long while, listening to his own breathing until he felt his limbs gather enough energy to twitch back to life—as much life as was left. He felt as though he’d been hit by the train after all.
He might have passed out again, maybe he’d just closed his eyes for forty winks, but when he opened them again, he saw more of his room, the window, the walls, and the figure lingering to the side.
Gut dropping with nowhere to go, Eggsy shuffled up pathetically, and blinked at It.
It was still there, standing like an ominous presence foreboding death—if that included looking ruffled from sex with your cock still hanging out.
“…Come on…” Eggsy groaned and swung his legs out of bed. It didn’t move towards him, so he didn’t smash his head into the wall.
“…Am I dead?”
“…”
“Who are you?”
Much like before, he received naught but a stare.
After all he’d been through, he deserved some fucking answers.
“Who are you?!” he shouted, throwing his pillow. It met its mark but said mark ignored it, and instead turned its head as one of Eggsy’s least favourite voices thundered through the flat.
“Shut the fuck up!”
Dean was back. Must be around four then. Jeez, how long had he slept? How had no one caught him like this yet, still naked below the waist and fucking hell he was still sticky ugh…
Eggsy threw the blankets over his exposed parts and grabbed his phone. Nine missed calls from Jamal and Ryan. More from Jamal, that was understandable, and oddly, no longer comforting. He glanced at the door cautiously as he dialled Jamal, and then gave It a glance. It was going to start needing a name if it didn’t leave soon.
Jamal answered on the third ring.
“Eggsy! Eggsy?”
“I’m alive.” He said, leaning his ear away from the speaker.
“Is it still chasing you?”
Eggsy looked at it. It looked like a Henry.
“No... I mean… it’s right here.”
Jamal was quiet. Something might’ve dropped. It could’ve been Jamal, Eggsy wasn’t quite all there.
“…What?”
“It’s just…” Eggsy gestured as if Jamal could see him. It didn’t help and neither did he have an actual explanation that he could form into words. He hadn’t expected to wake up at all. He gave another apathetic gesture and sighed, staring at Henry.
“I’m fine. I’ll call you back.”
“No. Eggsy—” Jamal’s concern was appreciated, but this was some Exorcist-Rose-Mary’s-Baby shit and Eggsy was barely coping himself. He tossed the phone back onto the counter after hanging up and shrugged at Henry.
“What are you? Demon? Spirit?” Harrison stared at him, looking ridiculous and so much less frightening—had Eggsy lost it? There was something seriously wrong with Eggsy to be okay after what had just happened. Or not okay, just, numb. Maybe it had altered him in some dark magic way. Did it matter anymore? Whatever mattered ever? Life was a lie.
“…Don’t you speak at all? God. Here.” Eggsy grabbed his phone and got up, quicker than he should have, and tripped over to Harrison as multiple parts of his body burned at once.
“Who. Are. You. Type it out, you gotta give me something.” He opened a note for Hubert and physically handed him the phone. Hubert held it, that was a good sign, and Eggsy rode his hours-late adrenaline high as much as he could and pointed to the keypad.
“You know, it’s considered rude to not tell someone your name after fucking them, Harold. I’ll just call you Harold until you tell me. Is it Hades? Something with an H I’m getting, and I ain’t fucking psychic.”
Hades made a sound that almost made Eggsy jump across his small room. It sounded like a fucking toad trying to lose its accent. Nothing made sense and Eggsy was on a hunch that he was high on demon-Hades pheromones. It was better than being scared out of his mind. Madness pheromone high was better.
And then, Huey started typing. He was a finger-typer, and exhibited a far more gentle touch than Eggsy had since seen. Then he offered the phone back, and Eggsy cackled at the word.
“’Harry’? Are you kidding me? Oh my God. Am I psychic? Haha! This is mental…” There was no answer to that, but fucking hell It was Harry. How had he guessed the letter? Or was It—Harry, fucking with him? Could it even do that? It had altered him hadn’t it? Oh God, it was probably going to mind-control him.
“Oh my God.” Eggsy was grinning ear to ear, and he felt and probably looked crazy. He laughed, shook his head, rubbed his face, and laughed again. Harry didn’t join him, but that was okay. It understood, and it wasn’t trying to kill him—currently. Or trying to fuck him. What the fuck happened
“Is…why are you still here? Are you still going to kill me? Aren’t I free?”
There was absolutely nothing to be read from Harry’s expression. If this was a demon possessing someone called Harry, then Harry must’ve been some kind of poker player or international spy. It was the least disturbing idea, more comforting than imagining the entity that didn’t understand facial expressions. Even psychopaths could copy those.
“Am I still…am I still infected?”
Harry blinked, and Eggsy groaned. He shoved the phone back. “Tell me. I gave, now you give.” He wished he had this kind of bravado when Dean was spitting at him.
The bravado paid off. Harry took the device, and took his sweet time typing his answer.
yes
And that didn’t make Eggsy feel accomplished at all. He sighed.
“Then why aren’t I dead?”
Harry didn’t respond to this.
Eggsy frowned, and turned slightly to the bed, and realised he was still entirely pants-less.
“Is it because I let you…?”
Harry was still for a long time, until he padded on another yes.
“Are you cursed too?” Eggsy blurted. He received another stare, but he wasn’t sure if those meant no or it’s complicated.
And suddenly, it felt like it had gotten a whole lot more complicated. He wasn’t supposed to wake up to his Hell, it was supposed to be gone, paid off, something! Instead his problem was still here and now communicating with him like it was ready to fucking move in. He was still infected, so that meant that…
“Fucking hell. So I can’t sleep with anyone ever again or you’ll kill them? Just nod for short!”
Harry stared, but there was a flicker of a very sarcastic yes in his white-sheet expression and Eggsy was too supernaturally hung-over for this.
“So you’re my burden to bear now? Still?”
Another sarcastic possibly imagined yes.
At least he wasn’t being strangled. At least he wasn’t being strangled. At least he wasn’t being strangled…
Eggsy took a deep breath, and let it out slow. He was okay. He was alive. He was still in one piece. And so was everyone counting on him. Daisy wouldn’t be left alone anymore.
He took a few steps in the space available, rubbing his face as he tried to work this out.
“Is that what you’re after? You’re not trying to kill, you just want….” He swivelled his hand, assuming Harry understood. Eggsy barely did. “I guess everyone’s been too shit scared not to fight… Good thing you found me then, hey. Worthless old rent boy.”
He sat on the bed, trying to ignore the dried up cum on his stomach.
“Will you ever go away?”
It seemed, in all honesty, the most relevant question. It would put to sleep a lot of useless worrying and attempts of escape.
Harry looked down and typed, and Eggsy’s heart sank when he caught that it was one tap short than the usual answer.
no
“Unless I pass you on?”
Another implied yes. Eggsy started to wonder if they were now mentally linked. Maybe he was just being really pessimistic, but what in his life was a cause for celebration? Everything was a disappointment and he always got the short end of the stick.
He nodded, because of course he was now stuck being haunted by a supernatural entity, and slapped his thighs.
“You get something out of this. I felt it. Is that how you live?”
Nothing indicative of an answer this time, but Eggsy felt like he already knew it. He’d read books when he was younger, sitting in the library looking up ancient Greek history for an essay but ending up skimming through the weird occult books instead.
“…I dunno what you are, but interesting body to slum it in. If you could just talk and act like a normal person you could get all the sex you want from girls in the bars and clubs without trying to kill them if they reject you…” The hint didn’t drop, so Eggsy went on. He couldn’t help himself. “Are you possessing someone or is that your body?”
“…”
“…I usually like a cuddle and a chat after sex, you know. …Unless it’s with a client.”
All of a sudden the door slammed right open. It hit Eggsy clothes cupboard with a loud bang, just missing Harry and sending Eggsy two miles out of his skin.
“The fuck are you fucking talking to? Finally gone mental, have you?”
Eggsy looked at Harry, then to Dean, and then Harry again. Dean hadn’t noticed—couldn’t see Harry—and Harry didn’t seem particularly interested in Dean. Rottie and Poodle were in the living room, leaning in their seats to watch and snickering to one another.
Dean followed Eggsy’s gaze, seeing nothing, and looked Eggsy up and down like he was the grime under the fridge.
“Bloody psychotic shit. Just like ‘is mother.”
Something snapped inside of Eggsy.
It was something small, something fragile and sore to begin with, but it had managed up until this point, this very confusing, tiresome point where he felt least like himself.
“…Dean.” His lips moved with words without his permission, but he didn’t try to retract them. Dean stopped just before he turned, lips curled into a sneer.
“What?”
Eggsy looked over Dean’s shoulder.
“…Tell Rottie and Poodle to get out. I want you to show me who’s in charge.”
Confusion set over Dean’s face. Then surprise, and then amusement. He visibly paused and seemed to realise for the first time how very naked Eggsy was, and glanced at the ruffled bedding, and the tube of lube laying oh so proudly on his night stand.
Something snapped inside of Dean too, and Eggsy realised he couldn’t hear the voice of reason inside him anymore. Harry must’ve eaten it.
Dean turned and marched into the living room, kicking at the couches.
“Both’a you, get out.”
A chorus of complaints rose but Dean shut them up in seconds. Eggsy idled out of his room, heart starting to pound as he watched the witnesses head out the door in a grumble.
The moment the door shut Dean smacked the chair he’d chosen, looking pleased with himself.
“Been fuckin’ yourself already, huh? Looks like you in for round two.”
Eggsy shrugged, and tried not to look behind him as he felt Harry tail him like an imaginary friend.
“Feels better when I’m ready.”
Dean still didn’t see Harry, and started unbuckling. “Slut. I told you and ya mum. Could see it on you day one.”
“I was eleven, you sot.” Eggsy climbed onto the couch with far less fear than he thought he would, should this time have come again. He never, ever would have thought he’d initiate it. He’d never thought a lot of things would happen, especially any of this. This was all too much. He needed to get rid of something.
“Ain’t eleven no more.” Dean said gruffly, lifting Eggsy’s shirt as he kneeled behind him.
Eggsy noted that the front door wasn’t locked, and he prayed his mum didn’t come home early; too much was about to happen. He stared at it as he and Dean got comfortable, the situation less heart-breaking than it should be. His skin pimpled as Dean touched him, and his eyes were drawn to Harry, who stood in the doorway to his room watching them. Eggsy gave a small hope that he wouldn’t be killed along with Dean afterwards, if that was how it would go. Something told him it would, because there was no way he would in his right mind have sex with Dean if there wasn’t a catch.
He locked eyes with Harry as Dean entered him, heavy over his back and rough with his hands. Eggsy winced, he wasn’t as prepared as he would have liked, but it was bearable. He held onto the furniture and leaned over it, pushing his arse out to make it end quicker, like most fucks in his life. Dean panted in his ear, making those crude, utterly human sounds that made it feel as real as it was.
Eggsy kept his eyes on Harry the entire time, making sounds to the filthy questions Dean whispered in his ear, and wondered when exactly the infection kicked in.
It turned out it took place after orgasm. Eggsy grimaced as Dean came, giving a few last skin slapping thrusts before he let go. When the high wore down he groaned and lay heavy over Eggsy, chuckling nastily to himself until suddenly he swore loudly and jumped off the couch.
“Oi! The fuck are you? Get out!
Collapsing down onto the chair, Eggsy frowned. “Who are you talking to?”
Dean pointed, hastily tucking himself away. “Him!”
Eggsy looked, and saw Harry’s attentions glued solely on Dean. He breathed, and then shrugged.
Dean made an angry sound of disbelief.
“This old geezer right here!” He marched forward, his finger pointed out in warning, but he wasn’t in charge here. Harry grabbed his hand and yanked him close, latching a hand around Dean’s throat before the man could catch up mentally.
A struggle was inevitable, and Eggsy got up on shaky legs, and wandered back until he was as far as he could get from the pair, and he watched the battle commence.
For once Dean was divinely confused. He obviously had no idea how this man had gotten in the flat, he had no idea why he was being attacked (by this slightly smaller posh bloke too), and the look on his face when he realised just how much weaker he was was priceless.
Dean wasn’t a bad fighter, he knew how to win a fight to back up his big mouth, but this wasn’t a fight. This was a choice, and he was choosing wrong. It wasn’t shocking, it was exactly what Eggsy wanted, and every panicked choke from a slowly suffocating Dean was a more powerful aphrodisiac than anything in the world.
Punches were useless, and trying to choke Harry back did naught but use up the dwindling energy and breath Dean had left. Every struggle strengthen Harry’s efforts, until he got both hands around Dean’s head, and snapped it to the side.
Eggsy swallowed back a heave as he heard it and watched Dean crash into the floor.
Besides his neck nothing in the flat was broken, Eggsy added that to the at least list as he stared at the body of his family’s abuser. His newest victim.
He’d killed Dean. It wasn’t how he’d ever imagined it, but it was still amazing, and he could’ve watched it ten times over.
Breathing out, Eggsy looked at Harry, and saw he was still and stoic again and watching him. At least the question was answered now.
“…Thank you.” Eggsy said, and sat on a couch. “…I’m gonna go straight to Hell for this, probably on your bus, but thanks…”
Harry didn’t respond, other than to side step one place closer to Eggsy. Eggsy didn’t feel cornered by that, and he stared unseeingly into Dean’s grubby shoes as the reality set in, warped and distant as though he were simply in an old memory. Not that he had killed a real monster, but that he had an actual STI and he was going to have to live around it. He could pass it on, but once it killed that person it was back to him again. There was no getting rid of it. Of him.
“…Guess I can’t work on Smith anymore. And if you ain’t gonna bring me cash then…” He glanced up, brow cocked. “Couldn’t you, though? Bring me money, and I’ll give you all the sex you want. Do you understand? Because now I’m fucked.”
Harry gave him an especially blank look, and Eggsy sighed. He was negotiating sexual favours with a demon right after killing Dean.
“Guess I’ll figure it out later. Could you at least make the body disappear?”
“…”
“…All right then…”
Drifting in a rift between what was real and what was real to him, Eggsy called the police, and explained what had happened. They took down his address and told him to stay where he was if he was in no immediate danger, and said a team would be on the way. Eggsy thanked them, and put the phone on the couch. Then he tackled Harry, tripping them both over Dean’s body, and gave as much fight as he could.
Whatever Harry was, whatever his mission was, he responded to the violence in kind. The strength in him was frightening, a never ending well of energy he’d leeched off Eggsy, off the many other people he’d been through.
Eggsy gave up naturally when his last fight dispersed like a puff of smoke. Death didn’t seem like a difficult choice as he lay struggling to breathe, a rib and definitely his nose broken. He could close his eyes and let it all go, leaving the mess behind like a coward, maybe see Dean in Hell.
But the moment he gave in, the cold hands slithered away and he could breathe again, pain blossoming in places Eggsy didn’t know existed. The coffee table and its contents were smashed to bits, Dean was still clearly dead, and Eggsy felt (and hopefully) looked like he’d been through hell.
When he opened his eyes again to look for Harry, it was around a few men and women, their uniforms a blur as they took charge of the disaster. Harry stood to the side by the TV, eyes dark and unknown and dangerous. If the eyes were truly the window to the soul Eggsy knew to be afraid. He’d been afraid for a long time now, thanks to Dean.
But there was one thing he knew for sure: he’d rather be with Harry.
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