TRIGGER WARNING: violence, gore, brief mentions of sex
Please read on with consideration!
C O N S U M E
Dark spires swirled towards the midnight sky. A magnificent work of stone and glass, made possible through his genius and thousands of starving laborers. The night was cold and bleak as rain washed away the filth on the streets. The newly built cathedral stood pristine against the cobblestone. The windows were bright and beautiful murals of stained glass, but Amos didn’t care for religious scenery. Jesus Christ never spoke to him like he did the fanatics.
Amos wished he would. Maybe that would bring some interest to his terribly exhausting job of existence.
The cathedral was truly fantastical. Amos even stayed until nightfall to see it finished. Recently, he’d never spent more than a few days overseeing the creation of his projects. None of them held any passion. All of them commissioned by the Queen. She had marvelous taste (not that you would ever denounce her tastes if you valued your life). However, even pretty things lose their appeal if you look at them too often.
The rain kept falling. The pitter-patter as it hit the ground was oddly soothing. It soaked Amos’s hair, staining it an even darker shade of black.
His clothes were soaked too. What a bother, he lamented. Amos decided to walk home, since his house was in the optimal part of town. He designed it after all.
…
Just a few years ago the architect had been ecstatic to design for the Queen. Now, the task had lost all its glamor. It became akin to a street cleaners work; disgusting.
His expensive shoes clacked on the wet stone.
Amos found no beauty in formula, or circles, triangles, squares, and layouts. It was all so mundane. His eye bags were dark like his towers. He obtained no joy, and minimal sleep. But he couldn’t leave a project unfinished; call it a bad habit of his.
He could see his house now. Its deep blue complimented the cream colored trim, huge detailed windows, and dark gray bricks lining the walkway. He chose that blue because it reminded him of the ocean, dark and deep. Unknown.
Amos longed for something unknown, something different.
He opened his door, adorned with an interpretative carving of a star. Those were also quite fascinating.
As he stepped inside, a puddle formed on the floor. He sighed, he’d have to clean it….later.
A crack of lightning brightened up the dark room. He burned a candle to guide his way because lightning doesn’t stay— even if its glare would make for the perfect room ambiance. Amos wished he could capture it in a jar and hold it forever. He wondered if it came from stars, like a part of their power falling down to earth.
He briefly entertained the thought of being consumed by such lighting.
Amos smiled.
———-
The sun shone tragically bright the next day, despite it being the end of fall. Amos woke up, peeling the soft bed sheets from his body and placing bare feet on hardwood.
He traveled downstairs and realized the candle he lit last night was still burning. It could have caused a fire. His poor neighbors.
Amos pulled a stale loaf of bread from his cupboard, along with jam he bought from a local seller a few days ago. He grabbed a large knife to cut his breakfast, using the same knife to spread the jam. It barely fit in the jar, but the energy to find a smaller knife eluded him.
Early winter chilled the air. He should probably put on some clothes before eating. Last night he’d been too tired to do anything but peel off his rain soaked garments. He made his way to his room and got his trousers, waistcoat, and tailcoat out of a mahogany drawer. They were shades of black and white, Amos thought it resembled his life.
He walked back down the stairs and ate his breakfast in silence. Occasionally, a bird would chirp. They stopped doing that in the industrial parts of town. The smoke killed them off, but the so-called innovators would never let you know that.
Amos put on his dress shoes and went outside, he wanted to visit his cathedral again. Maybe it would feel different in the daytime.
A chill prevailed in his bones while he walked. The sunlight was a red herring to the harsh weather.
When he reached the church, the murals shimmered in the sun. Light reflecting in the stained glass made even the devils it portrayed look lighthearted. Amos stood in front of it, basking in its supposed glory. The sun didn’t warm his back.
“Did you come to see the cathedral too?”
Amos heard the voice of a young man behind him, and turned around to pinpoint who was talking.
A boy. He looked young, but not quite childlike. His trousers and coat were brown, clean, but clearly inexpensive. They were made to last, not to look pretty. Amos found peasant fashion to be much more appealing to him than any nobilities. At least they served a purpose. What really caught his eye was the boy's dark brown hair, shakily cut with a natural red tint to it that shone in the sunlight. And his eyes, dark blue - the color of the ocean.
“Well, I’ve already seen it,” Amos replied.
“Oh! But they only finished it yesterday. Did you see it at night? There’s no way! The thunder and rain was terrible!” The boy said with animated arm gestures.
“I was overseeing its construction.”
“Overseeing? Do you work for Queen Victoria?!”
“Yes. I’m the architect for this cathedral,” Amos was bored of this conversation already.
The boy's eyes widened, “Woah! You designed this? Are you the Amos Levine?! I’m a huge fan of your work!” The boy looked to be bouncing with excitement. He reached out his slightly dirty hand for Amos to shake.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” the boy said with a smile.
Amos thought it would be rude not to shake his hand, so he took it and gave it a firm shake.
“May I ask your name?”
“Of course! I’m Ezra Ward.”
Amos nodded. A pretty name— much prettier than Amos Levine.
“Are you religious Ezra?” If he's so entranced with cathedrals, it would only make sense for him to be a believer. Most people were. In fact, having no faith was quite taboo. Being Christian was practically a prequsite in Europe.
“No actually, not at all. I just think cathedrals are beautiful, yours especially.”
Amos tilted his head slightly, he’d never met anyone who wasn’t religious before, much less someone who would openly admit it to him.
“How old are you?” This demand was thinly disguised as a question.
“Twenty-two…I think. It’s hard to keep track,” Ezra said as he bit his lip.
Twenty-two? He was short for a 22 year old. Amos wasn’t looking closely before, but the boy–– no, man’s clothes hung on his frame a bit. No doubt the work of malnourishment.
Amos couldn’t remember his own age; he stopped keeping track a long time ago. He guessed he was probably around 24 or 25.
Ezra was not particularly young, so it made no sense for him to so freely reveal his separation from god. He suddenly became interesting. Amos felt an odd, curious pull towards him.
“Mind if I ask you a question?” Ezra piped up.
“Not at all.” Amos meant it.
“What’s your favorite thing to build? You usually do large buildings, but you’ve done house commissions for the wealthy as well, correct?”
“Yes, all my buildings are commissioned, mostly for the Queen. However, my newest work is more of a passion project the Queen is generous enough to finance. As for my favorite work…”
“Cathedrals. I enjoy them for the same reason as you. They’re quite stunning,” Amos glanced back at the dark stoned building, the corner of his lips turning upwards.
Ezra smiled, Amos thought he looked quite charming, “Seems we’re alike, Amos. People tell you to never meet your heroes’, but you’ve been a delight. Even if it’s mostly me bugging you with my questions, you’ve been very patient.” The brown haired man walked to stand next to Amos.
Amos raised an eyebrow, “So far? Do you think I might suddenly change my tune?”
Ezra laughed. The sound was clear and beautiful, “No not at all, but maybe we should talk more, just so I can be sure.”
He was more forward than Amos had expected. Especially considering if they hadn’t met here, they never would have conversed at all. It was obvious from their clothing that they lived entirely separate lives in entirely separate social castes.
Suddenly, Amos hoped to see him again. More than anything.
“Alright, I formally invite you to the construction site of my new project. It’s off of Twenty-Second Avenue, the great big hill you see if you head down far enough. I’ll be there at 12 o'clock sharp tomorrow. Don’t be late.”
Ezra’s dark blue eyes looked lost for a brief second, as if he wasn’t expecting this to happen, but he quickly regained composure.
“I won’t be,” Ezra nodded.
Amos smiled.
“Good.”
——-
Amos waited at the foot of the hill, sitting down on the cool grass. The breeze was crisp, but he didn’t shiver.
He saw a figure in the distance. Dark brown hair, red streaks prominent in this lighting. Grinning, Ezra all but ran up to Amos.
“I’m here! I had to ask my dad for the day off to come, so it better be worth it,” Ezra’s tone was lighthearted.
“Hmmm…well, you’re 3 minutes late…maybe you shouldn’t see it at all,” Amos joked. He hadn’t joked in a long time.
Ezra pouted, “Oh come onnnn, cut me some slack here Amos!”
Amos liked his childlike innocence, Ezra spoke unlike any adult he’d ever met. Most people addressed Amos formally, professionally, never so casual. And they’d only just met.
“Just this once,” Amos waved his hand for Ezra to follow him up the hill.
Ezra followed, steps light and free.
——
The area was sectioned off, although no one was there. Building wasn't scheduled for today. Amos swung a wooden gate open. They both went in.
It was the start of an observatory, just the bare bones. Amos had enjoyed every second of planning it. Stone and marbles so carefully laid out, he could envision the rest in his mind as he gazed at the materials. The corner of his lips creeped up.
Ezra wasn’t of high birth, so Amos thought he might need to explain what an observatory was.
“This is an-” Amos started.
“It’s an observatory,” Ezra muttered in wonder, “I’ve always wanted to see the stars up close.”
Amos whipped his head around to look Ezra in the eyes. Frankly, he was shocked. Observatories were fairly new in Europe; the general public had almost no knowledge of them. This project had only just started, and he hadn’t announced its construction.
This man— was he nobility in disguise? How in the world did he know what an observatory was? Was he also interested in astronomy? No plebeian would have access to that type of education.
“Who are you?” Amos needed to know.
Ezra gave him a questioning look, “Me? I’m just an artisan's son who likes pretty things.”
“No, Ezra Ward. No commoner would know what an observatory is.”
Ezra laughed bitterly. “Haha, and for a second I hoped you might have thought of me as an equal.”
Amos couldn’t tell if he was serious or not.
“It’s not that. I just want to know your story. It’s the first one that’s fascinated me in a long time,” Amos spoke quietly, almost solemnly.
Ezra blinked. “Oh.”
The shorter man bit his lip before speaking, “My father makes vases— prettier than any fine china, in my humble opinion. Apparently, others thought so too. We traveled throughout the country, selling them. I lived most of my life on the road.”
“There was this man. He was our biggest buyer, and he’d commission specific works from my father. When we went to his estate, he would show me his study. He was a well educated scholar and I got private lessons whenever I would visit. I think he was lonely. Maybe he thought of me as a son, or a nephew. Either way, anything my father couldn’t teach me, he did,” Ezra looked fond as he finished the story.
So, Ezra was so knowledgeable from his travels. Amos still had questions however.
“Is your mother not in the picture?” Amos asked.
Ezra gave an odd chuckle, “Wow, you get straight to the point, don’t you? Yes, she died when I was five from influenza. I don’t really remember her much.”
“I don’t see a point in beating around the bush,” Amos let out a breath. “And on that note…Why do you so freely admit your religious feelings? Most people aren’t so accepting.”
Ezra paused, “I don’t. I’ve never told anyone I grew up without faith.”
“But you told me, why?”
“Such a foolish reason I’m afraid,” Ezra gave a faraway smile, “I just…sensed a kindred spirit in you.”
Amos flinched.
Ezra’s unsteady look faded, “It’s my turn to ask you something.” Amos didn’t argue, but he didn’t nod in agreement either.
“You are the most blunt person I’ve ever met. You don’t seem afraid of rejection, or anything for that matter. Your eyes have a dead look to them I’ve only ever seen in corpses. You didn’t say ‘sorry for your loss’ when I told you my mother died.” Ezra paused.
“Despite that, you lit up when we went to your observatory, and you’ve been kind enough to entertain me, to take me to your construction site. I don’t believe you’re a bad person, just one who’s lost their purpose.”
“Tell me, Amos. Why do you do architecture?”
Amos was expressionless as he listened to this, but his mind was racing. His thoughts were consumed by Ezra Ward. He sat down.
“I don’t. Not really. It’s all a means to an end.” It didn’t feel like architecture to him, it was just the path he couldn’t leave. The forest around him was too dense, and no sunlight got through the green leaves.
“Then why did you start?”
“I was a poor kid. To make money, I would create small replicas of houses—you could put candles or such in them— out of whatever I could find. A wealthy man asked to see how I made them, and I showed him the makeshift blueprints. He wanted to know if I could recreate these on a bigger scale, so he gave me materials to build something the size of a shed.”
“I did wonderfully. He said he’d pay my college tuition if I studied architecture and gave him half the money I made for 7 years. I’m sure he’s happy with his investment, even if I paid it off now.” Amos had never told anyone this much. Somehow, the words spilled out unconsciously. It was almost calming.
“You know, my pipe dream was to make enough to study science and astronomy. I wanted to see the world so badly, but I doubt that my contractors would be too happy with a career change. Plus, who would ever want to give up the life I have! It’s a miracle I got here in the first place, like something from a storybook.” It’s true, his situation was distinctly unique. He wished it felt as good as it sounded. Amos wondered if something wrong with him.
He wouldn’t be surprised if there was.
Ezra stared like he was analyzing Amos’s every move, like he could hear his thoughts. Amos didn’t like it; a happy, carefree look suits Ezra’s face much better.
“I think…” Ezra broke eye contact, instead shifting to look at the unfinished observatory, “you’re trapping yourself.”
Amos thought that was a stupid thing to say.
“I mean, you’re so full of potential. Your works are beautiful, truly. But talent doesn’t always follow passion. Amos, you have free will. Do what your heart most desires, the Queen, or your contractors, they can’t control you. They can’t force you to make them buildings.” Ezra’s eyes were wide as he said this. Amos was only lost in their ocean briefly before he pulled himself out.
“Potential is nothing without outcome. If I quit my job, anger my associates, and then go through school again, at my age, only to find out I’m simply dreadful at science, what becomes of me then? Nothing! I’ll have wasted my life on a idiotic dream,” Amos spat angrily. He didn’t know why he was suddenly so enraged. Ezra was only trying to help.
“But if you don't try, you’ll never know. You’re brilliant Amos, I believe you could become so famous that people write about you in history books,” Ezra had a hand on his shoulder now, it felt warm.
“What do you know about me? We’ve only just met, we’re strangers.”
It didn’t feel that way.
Ezra gave him a soft smile, “I don’t think most strangers know each other's life stories.”
Why did he feel like crying?
“I can’t explain why, but all I want right now is to see you happy. Fulfilling your dream.”
All Amos could think about was the beautiful shine in Ezra’s eyes.
…
“Amos, I feel I’ve known you my whole life.”
He wanted to scream.
Ezra Ward was like no one he'd ever met. Amos had never experienced so much emotion, about anything. Not even science.
Amos was in a stagnant state. Utterly bored. He wanted to build, create, discover, build, create, discover, build, create, discover, build, create, discover, build, create, discover.
He’d never wanted to tear something apart this badly.
“Ezra, you’re like nothing I've ever seen. More fascinating than any star,” Amos’s eyes had a glossed over sheen.
Ezra blushed, ”Oh, um. Thank you. You’re quite fascinating yourself.”
Most people would have told Amos he had it easy, that he should stop complaining and relish his god-given talents. Those who adore his works wanted to see him build more, selfishly pushing him for their own benefit.
This man, this enigma of a person, gave off a selfless radiance. A light so bright it blinded Amos. His dark world gone in an instant.
Amos didn’t just want to see the sun anymore.
He wanted to hold it.
He wanted to hold Ezra Ward's brain in his hands.
Wanted to feel it pulse against his fingers, bleed into his skin.
He wanted to consume it and understand Ezra's entire being.
He started to itch.
“Amos, are you alright? You look a bit pale.” Ezra’s breath ghosted over his face, he was concerned.
Amos snapped out of it.
“Ah, yes. Pardon me. I'm simply not used to kindness such as this,” Amos responded. The itchy feeling almost halted. Almost.
Ezra gave him a reassuring smile, “Well, get used to it. Because from now on you have me.”
Ah, there it was again, the unbearable itch to tear off his own skin and wear Ezra’s.
Amos knew something was undeniably off, but he had no desire and every desire to fight these urges.
“I’m glad. I have an inkling that seeing you will become the highlight of my waking days,” Amos hoped his smile looked charming and not sickly.
Ezra didn’t blush this time, he laughed, “Quite the charmer aren’t you? Save those skills for the ladies.”
“I’ve never cared for women.” He didn’t even have a wife. Amos would prefer to make Ezra blush again with his remarks, instead of a girl.
Ezra, oddly, blushed at that statement instead. It made Amos all the more enamored by him.
Itchy.
Amos needed to leave. Every second he spent with Ezra made him antsy. His fingers twitched to tear open the man’s chest and eat his heart.
Oh god. Something was so very wrong with him.
Amos coughed and abruptly stood up.
“Excuse me, I need to go.”
Ezra seemed confused, rightfully so, as he said, “What? Why?”
Amos didn’t grace him with an answer and simply took off running.
“HEY! AMOS WAIT!” Ezra yelled after him, but Amos was long gone, not sparing even a second to glance behind him.
Amos felt bad, but this feeling was worse. Maybe if he got away, the itchiness would leave.
He needed it to leave.
——
He wasn’t shaking, but his brain felt like there had just been an earthquake. The aftershock made it rattle in his skull.
Amos ran like a madman, through the crowded streets, dirty roads, narrow alleys. He didn’t stop until he reached his destination: place where he could be alone with his horrible thoughts.
A meadow.
Even in the cold time of year, the sun shone bright on the green grass. The meadow was a bit away from town, and well worth the walk. In the summertime, gorgeous and colorful flowers lined every blade of grass. The biting chill of wind felt like a gentle breeze here.
Amos walked forward. Grass still wet, dirt soft under his boots.
He found a lone flower in the sea of green.
Ezra.
Amos wanted to rip his skin off.
He was restless. He didn’t want these thoughts, but they had been lingering in the back of his mind ever since that conversation.
These urges, he wanted to give in. He didn’t want to fight them. In fact, nothing except his own conceptions of what is “good” wanted him to hold back.
Ezra said he saw potential in him, most likely a blooming potential for good, for change.
Amos looked towards the blue sky. It reminded him of Ezra’s eyes.
Amos was hot from running here. It reminded him of Ezra’s warm touch.
Amos looked at his hands, calloused and rough. It made him want to hold Ezra’s.
Amos looked at the small red flower on the ground. Pretty, like Ezra.
He crushed it under his foot.
——-
On the way home, he thought of Ezra.
No matter what he did, no matter what he looked at, his attention was solely on the brown haired man.
It was like a parasite had burrowed into his brain. Amos didn’t have the slightest clue why this was happening, why he wanted to hurt someone so kind.
Hurt? No. He wanted to understand him.
Dissect him. Lovingly of course.
Amos arrived at his home, almost bumping into the wooden door. He briefly traced the ornate star carving before opening it. Amos all but collapsed in his bed when he finally reached it.
He decided to sleep. Sleep fixes all. Maybe by tomorrow he’d be able to sort out these sudden feelings.
Amos knew for a fact that he dreamed of Ezra that night, but if you asked him to tell you what the dream was about. He’d say he doesn’t remember.
——-
Sleep does not fix all.
He tried to avoid it. He really did.
He thought of Ezra the next day.
Then the next day.
And the next.
For the entire week, all he thought about was Ezra.
He tried to go to work the first day, but he couldn’t keep a straight line of thought. He left within an hour.
He wanted to see Ezra again, so badly it made him scratch his skin to cope. His arms were permanently red at this point. Amos knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer.
He started walking out the door before his mind realized where he was going.
This would be the true test. What would his first urge be when he saw Ezra again?
An experiment. He always liked those.
Even the ones that ended badly.
——
He asked around town, if Ezra’s father was semi-famous, then people should know where his shop is.
“The Wards right? It's across from the shoemakers, down the street, and it has a fancy sign,” a random man replied.
Amos nodded, not even saying a polite thank you as he walked off.
The street was oddly quiet, or maybe his mind was simply elsewhere. Either way, Amos made his way down a solitary street. A grandiloquent sign that said Ward Pottery’ hung above a brick doorway. Amos swung the door open without hesitation.
“Ah! Welcome! I’ll be with you in just a mo-“
“AMOS?! What are you doing here?!!” Ezra nearly broke the vase he was holding to rush over to Amos’s side. He wouldn’t lie, it felt good to have Ezra greet him so readily.
“Why’d you run away before? Did I do something wrong? I’m glad you’re here now, I’ve been really wanting to talk with you…” Ezra's voice got quieter as he spoke.
Ah, such a kind soul. Ezra’s first assumption was that he was the problem. Amos took a deep breath.
His first feeling upon this meeting was warmth. Happiness even.
-
His second was an all encompassing burning. A longing that made locking Ezra in a cellar and slowly unraveling his every thought and desire appealing.
“I apologize, I never meant to give you the impression that I was angry with you. I was simply…confused. I need time to sort out my feelings,” Amos replied with a stale smile.
Ezra didn’t seem to notice his off-putting gaze and said, “I’m glad. I was scared you weren’t going to talk to me again, but, may I ask what you were confused about?”
Amos looked away with fabricated shyness, “My…feelings for you.”
Lies dosed in truth are the most convincing ones.
Ezra flushed red, “feelings?” His deep blue eyes searched around the area before he pulled Amos to a corner. Despite the fact that no one was in the store at the moment.
“Amos, I’m flattered, and you’re um,” he paused to look at Amos up and down before blushing again, “very attractive. However, we've technically only known each other for a few days, and same sex relationships aren’t exactly tolerated .”
Another thing he loved about Ezra: he never faltered, even when faced with something society had labeled as “wrong”. Though, Amos had long since suspected that Ezra wasn’t quite “normal” in terms of sexuality. Amos himself never really cared for sex in general.
Amos narrowed his eyes. Even so, he wanted nothing more than to devour Ezra’s entire being.
Any doubts about what he was going to do now had vanished. Amos itched his neck ever so slightly.
“I’m not looking to ravish you. A simple date would suffice. I’d like to get to know you even better.”
Ezra’s mouth formed a cute “o” shape. He looked a little embarrassed, since his face was still quite red. “Oh, yes that sounds nice. I'd love to.”
His plan was going splendidly. He already assumed his remarks would be taken romantically, and now he just had to deliver the finishing blow.
“Wonderful. Why don’t you meet me at the new church tomorrow evening? The one I built. We’ll have much needed privacy there if we use the towers.” Little did Ezra know, the privacy aspect wasn’t because they were both men, but it certainly helped Amos’s case.
“Are you sure there won’t be people there?” Ezra asked. He sounded hesitant.
“Positive. I’ll close it for emergency maintenance.”
Ezra nodded and squeezed his hand before releasing it, “It’s a date then.”
“Perfect, I’ll see you at 6 o'clock.” The black haired man smiled.
Amos’s smile was neither happy nor sad. He waved goodbye to Ezra and left the shop feeling both empty and fulfilled.
(Ezra probably thought that his potential was for good.)
His potential lied elsewhere. Humans are evil, selfish creatures. And Ezra was the most pure and good soul he’d ever met. An angel.
But even the most beautiful angels fall to sin. Humanity is corrupt by nature. Amos was no different.
He saw something kind, something virtuous.
And he wanted to destroy it.
—-
The next day was rainy and cold, much like the day the church was finished.
Amos prepared.
He decorated the tower with ornate lanterns. The atmosphere was nice, even if he planned to ruin it later. He dragged a deconstructed table into the room as well, building it to the full length as the parts were assembled. The table was nearly big enough to hold his own body. It would certainly fit someone smaller.
A carefully placed wooden chess set sat in the shadow, lying in wait.
He hung elegant yet sturdy rope from the carved pillars in a delicate fashion. Its thickness seemed especially designed for the tying of hands.
Finally, he pulled out a polished dagger with blue jewels adorning the hilt. A gift from a client. He’d never seen any use for it, but the jewels reminded him of Ezra’s eyes, so he thought it would be better than a simple butcher's knife.
The clock struck five. Only an hour to go. Only an hour before the itching, the awful longing that plagued him every second of his existence, would finally come to an end.
He would apologize, but he didn’t feel bad.
—-
Amos waited at the church doors. Ezra arrived in what Amos assumed were his best clothes, as they were clean and looked to be of decent quality. Amos thought the shirt's shade of blue looked stunning with Ezra’s eyes. Even dripping wet, Ezra still managed to impress him.
“Amos! Sorry I’m so wet, you know…rain and all, but I brought something for you!” Ezra came up to him and handed him a single, bright red geranium cluster.
In flower language, geraniums meant stupidity. Amos thought it was fitting that the color resembled blood.
As he thought about it more, he realized Ezra's name meant help.
Amos wished he could help him; however, his own name meant burden.
Such a folly on his parents' part.
“That’s very sweet, thank you Ezra.” Amos said.
Ezra smiled, “Certainly! You did all the setup, after all. It’s barely a gift anyway, I found it as I walked here.”
Amos barely registered a word he said, but he truly hoped Ezra could enjoy the scenery of the room before he lost his eyes.
He was getting itchy just standing here.
Amos offered an arm to his companion. “Shall we go inside?”
Ezra happily took it, but his body felt weirdly tense. “We shall.”
They walked up the cold stone stairs to the top of the spired tower.
—-
“It’s so beautiful in here Amos! You did great!”
It was supposed to give a cozy impression. Amos was glad he succeeded in that aspect.
Ezra bounced around the room for a moment, almost like he was searching for something. Then, he abruptly sat down at a chair Amos had brought to accompany the table.
“Glad it’s enjoyable, I did spend a fair bit of time on it,” Amos replied.
“Well, it’s quite pleasant. Come, sit with me,” Ezra gestured to the chair across from him. Amos swallowed. Being this close to the other man, it was hard to control the urge to crush his skull and take out the brain.
Put on the table and study it and-
Amos left the train of thought quickly. He had to stop unconsciously itching before Ezra noticed.
Amos sat down.
“So did you have anything planned?” Ezra sounded slightly more reserved as he said this. Amos paid it no mind, preoccupied with keeping his thoughts in check.
He blinked, “I did. Would chess be alright?”
Ezra seemed to relax a bit at that statement. “That sounds lovely.”
Amos pulled a chess board from a box in the corner.
“I’d like to propose an addition to the game,” Amos declared.
Ezra’s stiffened ever so slightly again. Weird.
“Whoever wins has to grant a wish of the other.”
“Grant a wish? What are we, witches?” Ezra chuckled.
“Maybe so. Try not to get burned at the stake,” Amos quipped back.
Ezra smiled at that, but it felt somewhat insincere. “Alright, O holy one. I’ll play your game.”
Amos set up the board. This game was inherently unfair. The architect was a master at chess. Playing against the Queen's best men gave him excellent practice.
Amos would win without fail. There was no way Ezra had enough skill to beat him.
The wish would be his.
“Can I be white?” Ezra asked.
“Of course.” Amos replied. Going first wouldn’t matter, Ezra would still lose.
They set up the pieces, and the game commenced.
…
The click of the chess pieces could be heard, but otherwise, it was unsettlingly quiet.
…
“Checkmate.”
It went almost as Amos planned.
Ezra’s queen's gambit strategy was unexpected, and his skill was also above what Amos anticipated.
The younger man ultimately lost, but his brain only became more delicious as they played. Amos itched to get a look at it.
“Guess you win. Nice game Amos,” Ezra said with a tone of good sportsmanship.
Ezra continued, ”So, what's your wish gonna be? Hopefully nothing too scandalous; this is supposed to be a ‘simple’ date after all.”
His tone was….playful.
Perfect. The night was going perfectly.
Amos smiled mischievously, “I suppose you’ll find out. You’ve given me quite an enjoyable night so far. I get more pleasure staring at your face than I ever did gazing at the stars.” He laid the charm on thick, hoping Ezra would think it was endearing.
“Oh stop it, you’ll make me blush,” Ezra didn’t blush or stutter as he said this.
Amos narrows his eyes ever so slightly; maybe the flattery was too much. Time to commence his rudimentary plan.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like you to close your eyes as part of my wish.”
Ezra’s face twitched so fast Amos almost didn’t catch it. What was wrong with him tonight?
“Sure Amos.”
What a good boy.
Ezra diligently closed his eyes.
Amos fingers dung into the decorative rope hung up by the lights a split second later. Pulling it off without making a sound.
No thoughts went through his head as he walked up to Ezra’s body, sitting down with eyes closed. Amos gently grabbed his wrists.
He leaned down to whisper in Ezra’s ear.
Ezra shivered.
“Want to know what my wish is?” Amos asked in a low voice.
Ezra swallowed but didn’t reply. His knuckles turned white from clenching them on the chair’s armrests.
…
“It used to be to create something wonderfully complex, to understand something unknown.”
“My passion for the unknown stays unsatiated, however, I've realized…”
“Creating is not the way I will reach the particular unknown I seek.”
“To understand you, I will tear you apart. I’ve never felt so strongly in my life.”
Ezra’s eyes shot open, but by then, it was too late.
Amos swiftly gripped his wrists tightly and pulled them behind his back, tying them with the rope. A tight knot, almost cutting off circulation.
“Amos! What are you doing?” Ezra’s voice wavered, and he almost sounded more disappointed than shocked. He tried to pull away, but Amos was stronger, keeping Ezra in place while he tied the ropes to a pillar in the room.
“Making sure you don’t leave.” Amos tied the knot with a flourish and pulled the dagger from his boot.
Ezra looked towards the weapon, “What the…what are you going to do with that..?” Terror made his voice rise in pitch; Amos couldn’t blame him.
“Study you.”
Ezra’s eyes widened with shock and confusion, his breath hitched.
“Don’t bother asking why, I’ll answer it for you right now.” Amos crouched down to look Ezra in the eyes. Deep blue and wide open, they were simply wonderful.
“Originally, I wanted to let our relationship mature. You were the first interesting person I’d met in a long time…”
“However, after our heart-to-heart, I started to get these unbearable urges to put you on a dissection table. You were such a fascinating enigma, all I wanted was to…open you. I want your entire body, your entire soul.”
“I’ve been so itchy Ezra, I am even now. I wish I had more self control. I wish I wasn’t such a foolish man so we could spend so much more time together, but alas, every fiber in my system wantsto take you apart.”
Ezra seemingly listened to all this silently, focused.
Amos softly kissed his forehead, temporarily breaking whatever trance the other man was in.
“You did tell me to follow my heart and take what I want. You’ve truly inspired me, Ezra.”
“I promise that after I study every part of you, I’ll make a building in your honor. How about a pretty church? I’ll finish that observatory too.”
The dagger glinted, tempting him. Amos tilted his head to look down at Ezra as he moved the silver tool toward his skin.
“I’d love to make you more comfortable, but I just can’t wait any longer. Would you like-“
“I'd like it if you weren’t such a disappointment Amos.”
Amos fell back to avoid the knife, but it still managed to slice his arm.
His face was painted with shock. The knife didn’t cut deep, and yet, the stinging pain was grounding. Ezra’s ropes laid discarded on the ground.
Ezra stood above him, blood dripping from the blade in his hand.
“I liked you Amos, I truly did, but you underestimated me. Only a fool wouldn’t notice your eyes taking me apart when you visited the shop. Your gaze made me feel like raw meat. I got this….feeling like you wanted to consume me.”
Ezra gazed at him with sadness in his eyes, and a hint of disgust that pierced Amos’s heart deeper than any weapon, “At first I thought you wanted to take advantage of me, but no, you wanted to kill me. For some sick reason of 'understanding' me? Are you insane?!” Ezra had the knife pointed at Amos, tears in his eyes.
“I wanted to trust you! I only brought this knife for the worst case scenario! I tried so hard to give you the benefit of the doubt, and you turn out to be some devil in disguise. Just my luck.”
…
Amos was stunned. He didn’t move an inch as he listened.
This was….
Was…
Wonderful!
Ezra may not be the angel he originally thought him as, but that didn’t bother Amos in the least! This excruciating deadly version of Ezra made Amos want to split him open even more. It only served to make him more intriguing.
Amos grinned wider than he ever had in his pathetic life.
He lunged his dagger at Ezra’s knife, trying to knock it out of the man’s hand. He fell just short and Ezra instead jumped back. Amos stood up.
“My, I knew you were smart but I failed to realize just how perceptive you are. You’ve stirred me on even more, Ezra.” Amos shot a fist at Ezra’s face, but the smaller man darted out of his reach.
Ezra wasn’t exactly weak, but he was shaking. Taking a closer look at his knife, Amos could tell it was unsharpened and probably from his kitchen. The man came unprepared for real combat. Amos would win this battle, easily.
He lunged again, this time with his dagger at the ready. He didn’t want to kill Ezra just yet, only maim him enough to keep him down.
Ezra fell to the ground in an attempt to escape, but the dagger left a small cut on his cheek. Amos’s adrenaline masked any sense of pain.
Ezra reached out with unprecedented speed and stabbed Amos’s leg from his position on the floor.
Amos swore; the adrenaline didn’t help much with that.
He used his other leg to kick Ezra. The poor man whined like a puppy and went to stab Amos’s uninjured leg. This time, Amos was prepared. He slammed his boot heel into the back of Ezra’s hand.
Ezra screamed.
The sound was horrible, it made Amos want to nurse him to health.
….Or maybe finish the job to keep him quiet.
Amos lifted his heel, and Ezra jumped on him, making Amos lose his balance and topple onto the discarded chess board.
Ezra had a bruised and bloodied hand on his throat, and the other holding back Amos’s dagger wielding fist.
—Ezra was crying now. Amos didn’t even realize until tears started hitting his face.
“You’re a monster! Why are you doing this Amos?! What’s the point?!” Ezra screamed these words so loud Amos thought his ears might start bleeding.
Amos smiled as he croaked out, ”I just…couldn’t hold back any longer. I’ve never felt so strongly about something.”
Ezra inhaled sharply, “What kind of half ass answer is that?!”
“I’m only telling the truth, and you haven’t really tried to escape yet. Not once running towards the exit. Do you secretly want to stay here Ezra?” Amos tried to provoke him. The exit was a trapdoor that they climbed up a ladder to get to, and it was locked. Locked at the beginning of this “date”.
Ezra’s gaze flickered to the wooden trapdoor before firmly settling on Amos.
“You locked it. I saw you take out a key, it’s probably in your pocket right now,” Ezra said as the hand on Amos’s throat retreated and slunk to his trouser pocket.
Despite all that had happened, Amos still found himself surprised by his perceptiveness.
Amos slammed his head up, straight into the smaller man’s forehead.
“AH GODDAMMIT!” Ezra swore violently as he hit the dagger out of Amos’s hand. It flew past them both to the other side of the room, straight toward the stained glass window.
Ezra immediately regained his senses and scrambled for the dagger. His forehead was faintly bruised.
Amos lunged after him, only to be held back by his injured leg. Right, it still had a knife in it.
Amos steeled himself and gripped the handle, knowing it was the only chance he had.
He pulled the knife straight out as he bit his cheek hard to keep from screaming. Once the weapon was free, he hobbled to a standing position, limping to the window.
The darkness robbed the glass of its intended sheen. Luckily, Ezra bloodied and bruised, stole his attention so fully Amos found it hard to examine anything else. Despite the injuries, Amos was certain this was the best night of his life.
He was going to get Ezra’s body on a table.
Half crawling, half limping to the stained glass window, he made his way to a frantic Ezra. The dagger was in the other man’s hand. Amos had been right; the blue jewel matched his eyes in a lovely way.
He hadn’t noticed before, but he could faintly hear the rain hitting the window, the outer stone of the building.
Ezra shakily held the dagger towards him, “You’re injured, stay back! Just—give up Amos, I won’t even tell anyone if you let me go!”
Amos loved him, because he was absolutely telling the truth. Though, even if he did tell someone, no one in their right mind would believe him over a prominent architect. His connections would prove to be Ezra’s downfall in every case.
“I know you won’t, but if I let you go now, I might not get a chance like this ever again,” Amos couldn’t even feel the pain in his leg at this point. Everything felt surreal. His vision was blurred at the edges.
Ezra took a deep breath, seemily steadying himself as he swung the dagger at Amos.
The black haired man fell back to avoid it, lifting himself up and grabbing Ezra’s wrist. He pushed the man against the glass. Ezra tried to stab the dagger towards his face before Amos grabbed his wrist. Amos copied the move with his own knife, about to drive it into Ezra’s stomach before the smaller man twisted his hand to hold it back.
Amos gave a sinister smirk. “You know how this will end. I’m stronger than you.”
Ezra grimaced, ”I know that you’re sick in the head, and you're weaker willed than you want to believe.” Ezra kicked his injured leg, making Amos wince.
Amos may have been indecisive before he met Ezra, but now he was the exact opposite. He was obsessive.
The architect couldn’t keep the glee from his expression. “Then let’s see who’s will wins out in the end.”
He wrenched the knife from Ezra’s grip and let go of the hand pushing the dagger at him. Practically climbing Ezra’s body, he dodged to the side as the dagger in Ezra’s hand plunged into nothing.
Amos stabbed the dull knife into the glass, pressing Ezra against the wall with his body as it shattered. A pretty boy filled with pretty pieces of sand.
Ezra screamed, Amos grinned. A kaleidoscope of shimmering colors rained around them as the fragments pierced their bodies.
His body, no—both their bodies, had nothing to lean against anymore. Amos foolishly hadn’t thought about that as the air was swishing past him. The distant ground below started to grow closer.
The pair had fallen out of the open window.
“AH AH AHHH—-HELP! SOMEONE HELP! PLEASE!” Ezra pleaded into the night. There was no one on the street. The air was cold. Shards of colored glass fell with them. Despite the circumstances, Ezra desperately clung to Amos, as if he was falling any slower. The dagger and knife were long forgotten. The animosity melted away into a desperate plea for survival. Amos held Ezra’s head tightly into his chest.
He wanted to save the brain. He wanted to kiss Ezra goodbye. He couldn’t do either. He was an idiot.
They crashed on the cobblestone with a sickening crack. The sound made Amos want to hurl. His chest heaved as the air left his lungs.
Amos felt warm. Warm and wet.
His mouth tasted like blood.
His clothes were red.
Ezra laid motionless below him. His skull was cracked. So much blood was pouring out that Amos couldn’t even see his beautiful brain.
Amos was definitely bleeding as well, but he couldn’t tell from where. Ezra, in a cursed twist of fate, had broken his fall. Their blood was mixing.
But the body was crumpled. It wasn’t clean anymore.
For all the trust Amos placed in his intelligence, he saw now how foolish he was. This love made him weak.
Ezra was dead.
Amos threw up.
Amos cried.
Amos screamed.
He desecrated Ezra’s body with his disgusting fluids.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
“Sweet Jesus.”
There were people who heard the screams, rushing from their houses to witness the atrocity that was Ezra’s demise.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Amos burdened his beloved, ruined him. He was supposed to take Ezra apart. Ezra belonged to him, not the earth, not the streets that now ran with his blood, not the people in the crowd. Him.
This was imperfect. He would never get to take Ezra apart properly.
Amos grabbed Ezra’s bloody skull and searched for the pieces that had broken off. He was going to fix this, put his architect hands to good use.
He was going to put Ezra back together again.
He was going to reassemble him.
“Get away from that corpse!” Someone screamed at him. Amos didn’t move. He needed to fix Ezra, before it was too late.
A man grabbed at him, trying to pull him away from Ezra. Amos punched him with a hand covered in blood and hair and brain matter.
“AGH!” The man yelled. He grabbed Amos by the arm. “SOMEONE HELP ME PULL HIM OFF!”
More men started flooding towards them.
Amos screamed in protest, “STOP! LET GO! I NEED TO FIX HIM!” Sobs clawed from his throat, “HES MINE TO TAKE APART, NOT YOURS! I WON'T LET YOU HAVE HIM!” Amos writhed to escape their grasp, but he was outnumbered. He was pulled off of Ezra.
“He's dead you devil! Quit rambling!”
Amos thrashed. He fought. He was going to lose Ezra.
No.
No. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no no no no no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no no no no no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. NO.
Amos launched himself towards the body.
His head hit the cobblestone.
Suddenly, he couldn’t see Ezra anymore.
The world was replaced with a very, very bright light.
It reminded him of a star.
MADELYN RUDOLPH | About the Author
About the Piece:
I thought I’d be fun to try a gothic/romantic inspired story and crazy people are really fun to write about.
About the Author: Hello! I’m Maddy and junior at WHS who’s favorite thing to do is overanalyze characters, and my favorite writing genres are psychological horror and character study :)
Maddy is a WHS junior.
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