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Optio	By : Ripsi Category: +M through R > Resident Evil Views: 8319 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Resident Evil fandom/franchise or any of their characters. I make no money from this fanfiction. It is merely a piece of fiction written by me.

Chapter List
- 1-Annus Novus
- 2-Domus
- 3-Calor
- 4-Posco
- 5-Ludus
- 6-Felix Dies Valentini
- 7-Desiderium
- 8-Dormientes
- 9-Curre
- 10-Gravatus
- 11-Vita
- 12-Vigilo
- 13-Arcanum
- 14-Phasma Phasmatis
- 15-Possessio
- 16-Mutatio
- 17-Anniversarium
- 18-Monstrum
- 19-Lues
- 20-Vita Post Mortem
- 21-Iterum
- 22-Eam
- 23-Fidelitas
- 24-Veritas
- 25-Pacisco
- 26-Mundus Novus
- 27-Febris
- 28-Chemia
- 29-In Aeternum
- 30-Frater
- 31-Historia
- 32-Familia
- 5
- 6
- 7
Optio
Chapter 6: Felix Dies Valentini
February 8, 2001 Thursday 5:58 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire
Location: Red Lodge, Montana
Status: Proud
I stretched happily before getting up from the chair in front of the computer desk, glad that all important assignments for next week were taken care of already. With midterms around the corner I had no intention of struggling for study time. Time was beginning to fly, and quite pleasantly might I add because once schoolwork was thrown into the mix I found myself wondering where the hell the time went. Since he had been such a help and that assistance got me a B in Philosophy I decided I’d make a nice big dinner for Wesker, and yes I knew it was weird that I felt I owed him after all he had done but I felt like I owed him for what he had not done.
So I decided to bake that whole chicken I bought, throw a bunch nice spices and whatnot on it, make mashed potatoes, peas, rice with gravy, biscuits, and even a nice big German chocolate cake for him. I was so proud of myself even though it was almost nine by the time I finished, and I was sure that the four sides plus dessert would be a dead giveaway that I was trying to please him. When he finished showering I was sure the smell of dinner was what brought him downstairs, and he had no problem showing up in pants that were clearly for bed, and a black tee.
“Are you in a good mood?” he asked as I smiled at him from the other side of the table.
“It’s to thank you for your help,” I offered, passing him the basket of biscuits.
I could tell he wanted to smile at me, however, he didn’t, and he just ate and ate. For some reason this made me feel good, and I wanted to enjoy this silence between us since the more he stuffed his face the more it meant he was enjoying it.
However, I was beginning to notice more things about him, like he really didn’t have any smile lines and usually those popped up at around maybe thirty, so did he not smile much coming up in life or did he just have great genes? Lately he hadn’t bothered to make sure that every strand of hair was perfectly slicked back, and a few times last month he had lost his shades, or at least that’s why I thought he wasn’t wearing them. Even stranger he would sit in a room near the one I inhabited, almost like he was trying to be in my company but he just didn’t want to flat out say it.
It was time to eat some cake, and before he took his first bite he looked to me, the dim, dining room light not doing those crystal clear orbs of blue any justice.
“Frank and Mary invited us to a get together at the town hall,” he announced, promptly taking a bite of the slice of cake on his dessert saucer.
I wanted to drop my fork and let it noisily hit the saucer to display my annoyance, but I only huffed because damn I wanted some of that cake now. So I stuffed a forkful into my mouth before replying. “They always seem to tell you these things and never me.”
“I believe they hoped you wouldn’t come seeing as it’s more for the teenagers of the town.”
“By teenagers they mean one in particular,” I angrily muttered, not looking away from my dish. Sorry but goddamn this was good and I hadn’t had chocolate in a while.
With a chuckle he said, “They wish for me to chaperone her.” I heard his fork clatter against his plate, causing my head to snap up. Pinching the bridge of his nose he stared down at the table, laughing to himself, and yes it was a frightening sight.
“‘You okay?” I didn’t know whether or not I should have laughed as well, all I knew was this was extremely uncharacteristic of Wesker.
“They don’t even try to hide it,” he said mid-laugh. Uneasily, I joined in, trying my hardest to pretend that I was with him all the way in this little joke.
“We’re ending it.” His laughter stopped abruptly, leaving me sounding like a maniac. “I’m proposing to you then in front of them all.”
My mouth opened, trying to speak, and it was failing miserably until I gave a little cough to kick start it. “Isn’t a Valentine’s Day proposal cheesy?”
“Dear heart I am more concerned with efficiency than novelty.”
A part of me felt hurt that this was just business and it wasn’t that I wanted him to really look me in the eye with sincerity and say that such things, but I was beginning to miss the male contact that I once had sufficient access to. I was no exotic goddess with double d’s, dark hair, and extra-pouty lips but I knew that there was something that kept the male species flocking my way. Maybe it was the tinge of red in my hair since redheads were supposedly the most desired, maybe it was my small frame, hell it could have been my love for bikes and alcohol. All I knew for sure was that Wesker should have posed as my uncle at least so I could run about town flirting in bars with men around my age. Seeing him every day wasn’t as great a thing as Mary pushed Stephanie to believe.
Hell, maybe we should have agreed to get into the real shit couples go through such as infidelity so Stephy could see exactly what her tall blond prince was like.
From that night on all I could think was: on Valentine’s Day I’ll be betrothed. Ugh.
February 14, 2001 Wednesday 8:03 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire
Location: Red Lodge, Montana
Status: Disappointed
I had become detached since Wesker had warned me of the proposal. I spoke with him, ate with him, let him continue to feel useful while I pretended that I still didn’t understand the words in my Biology book, but I couldn’t really care anymore. I had honestly reached my limit of what I was able to take, and I was done. My plan was to “take it to the head” tonight, be drunk and belligerent, and whatever slipped about my true feelings towards Wesker was not a huge concern of mine.
And the whole fucking town could talk until they were blue in the face about Sara Ivanov the drunken, Russian adulterer that was shacking up with a man almost half her age. However, my plan was shot to hell when Wesker informed me that I would be doing the driving tonight, and I almost threw the biggest bitch fit ever. Only stared at him though, damning his black turtleneck sweater, damning those fucking black pants, and definitely damning those black shoes that would announce his arrival. In my mirror I saw myself as nearly broken, staring blankly at myself.
In accordance with traditional Valentine’s Day colors I wore a semi formal red and white dress with red stilettos, and not even my favorite color could cheer me up. With a heavy sigh I adjusted my visible cleavage, hoping that maybe someone would throw me a scrap of attention, and then I suddenly felt as low as Stephanie.
The gathering was at some center whose name I didn’t care to even look up at, and a few times Wesker attempted to start a conversation with me, but I didn’t particularly feel like engaging. Ah, that damned word…
Once inside we were greeted by familiar faces, however, the most familiar belonged to the Luomas who were sitting at a table in the back of the room. The place was decorated with red, white and pink and the balloons that were floating above were those exact same colors with their streamers dangling pretty close our heads. Many plastic bags containing party favors were sitting on the table to the right of the entrance, and I could see that cheap candy was what had occupied them. The alcohol was on a table draped in pink to the far left of the room and a sign stated, “Adult Beverages.”
“Oh yeah, horny teens will let that deter ‘em,” I mumbled to myself, noticing that Wesker was heading for the “grown-up” table. My eyes became slits, I probably looked a little cartoonish even, but this fucker had the temerity to make me drive all so he could be the one to get plastered? Ho, ho, ho I was getting so heated that I noticed the red blotches on my chest appearing that usually gave away my mood. This anger that I felt for him couldn’t be described, and I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. There was a migraine forming behind my eyes, but I had to ignore it all for the sake of these people’s happiness.
“You two hadn’t had plans already did you?” Mary dabbed around her mouth for any crumbs that may have been left from the finger sandwich she slowly nibbled away at.
Flatly, without an equally false smile I said, “No.” For a moment her eyes widened as if she were taken aback by my bluntness and refusal to chit-chat as if we were friends. She may have been able to keep up her Judas role but I never was one that was able to hold back my true feelings for long. The amount of time that I had put up with her was enough for me.
Ever the professional, she ignored my attitude and asked, “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a glass of wine?”
I wanted to grin to myself so badly once I realized how I could manipulate Wesker’s plan and keep us in the town’s mouth. If I was going to be Sara Ivanov I might as well paint the fictional character up brilliantly right; because if she actually ever did exist and she was one of the most unfortunate people out there then the least I could do was live a little for her namesake. Also, I had finally decided that I needed to liven up a little about the situation: I was under a false identity which meant that I could do whatever I wanted to do and nothing would hurt my reputation at all.
“I’m trying to stay away from alcohol,” I answered, a sweet smile on my face.
A woman named Gwen who had been joking about me being pregnant seemed to appear out of thin air at that exact moment. “So it’s true?” The excitement in her voice combined with the disbelief on Mary’s face was priceless, and I wished that Wesker had supplied me with some sort of secret spy cam so I could have just rewound that part of the conversation time and time again.
With a tone of mock-guilt I said, “So Gwen how is your store coming? I was thinking when it got warmer I could plant red hibiscus?” She smiled at how I avoided her question, giving me a wink before she pulled her husband up from the table to drag him onto the dance floor.
It seemed many couples were making their way to dance, and I couldn’t help but grin as Stephanie grimaced at her father’s request that her mother join him. I recognized the song as “All My Life,” and I rolled my eyes at the cheesy pick, although it was a good song I just felt that this was so forced. I was about to shut myself off and get lost in random thoughts until I felt someone grab my hand.
It was no surprise that it was Wesker, however, what was a surprise was how he led to me dance with him and I wondered if he was drunk. I could tell that he’d been partaking in the vodka, jello shots, but I only saw him take two so maybe he was on his way.
He wrapped his arms around my waist and I uncomfortably wrapped mine around his neck. His warm breath tickled my ear as he whispered, “And just what do you think you’re doing?” So he heard me.
Pulling back so I could look into his eyes I gave a mocking smile and said excitedly, “I’m just having a little fun Jeff!”
Closing his eyes he scoffed to himself, his grip tightening on me, and it caused the strangest sensation within me. Being this close to him was never easy, it was awkward yet strangely pleasant, but it was never a comfortable pleasantness seeing as his true intent behind doing so was hidden. “Fun?” I could definitely smell the vodka on his breath, although it wasn’t too strong, and since I couldn’t have any though I desperately wanted some I didn’t mind it. I know I’m a future alcoholic.
It seemed we both decided to take advantage of our situation at the same time. Usually it was him initiating the acted out affection, however, tonight we both consciously made the decision to bring our lips together and since it had been done before I was not shy about it. My isolation from affectionate males had taken its toll on me at this point, and right now all I wanted was for someone to at least pretend they wanted me.
I was lost in a sea of confusion and lust, not caring whose eyes were on us as he placed his hand on the nape of my neck to deepen the kiss. We were holding onto each other tightly, our bodies pressed together so that I had to fight the urge to battle him for dominance. Because we were so close I could feel him growing in his pants, giving me a bit of satisfaction that I had some influence over that and I wasn’t even doing much. He slipped his tongue into my mouth, and I expected the kiss to become passionate but it wasn’t. It was painfully slow.
Then, the music stopped and as though he had been brought back from hypnosis, he broke the kiss. Neither of us looked to the audience we indubitably had, rather, we stared at each other for a few seconds, and without warning he took the moment of silence to take one of my hands and get down on bended knee. Oh how this was a great moment for an age joke, but this had to be believable.
Sincerely, he stared into my eyes, and the bastard deserved an Oscar for this performance. “Sara Ivanov,” he began, pulling a heart-shaped, black velvet ring box from his pocket. He flicked it open giving me the view of my life: it was an eighteen karat gold band with three diamonds set into it, the largest one in the middle. I estimated two carat, and just at the sight I wanted to jump up and down like a kid at the fair. It was so sparkly.
Unknowingly my jaw dropped, and that was something that I quickly corrected as I heard him finish up with, “Will you marry me?”
Now in real life the answer would have been a definite hell no, however, this was not real, so I nodded with that same dumbstruck look on my face I answered hoarsely with, “Yes.” I heard gasps as he removed the ring from its box and he placed it on my ring finger. With wide eyes I stared down at it, barely hearing the cheers of the residents of Red Lodge, and the grin that spread across my face was the result of what would come next: rumors and speculation.
Nearly everyone congratulated me, and about seventy-eight percent of those very same people went off to spread their little theories about why “Sara and Jeffrey were getting married.”
My favorites were: “She is pregnant,” “he is afraid his age will cost him her,” “she’s a known whore,” and then my personal favorite was “he desperately wants children before he gets too old to handle it.”
However, the worst rumor had to do with “Jeffrey’s” actions tonight involving the adult table. Without any thought of the repercussions that could be manifested through something that was nothing more than a dimwitted theory, an overweight blonde who I recognized from the party at “our” house said, “You can tell he beats the poor thing look at them. He drinks like a fish and so does she. I’d be damned if a man win me over with a ten thousand dollar ring after whoopin’ ma ass.”
Before I knew what I was doing I turned around and tossed my punch in her direction, of course the red beverage wouldn’t stain her multicolored shirt too badly, but I knew that it was an action of the utmost disrespect other than spitting. As a further insult, once the building became quiet and everyone began understanding what happened I spat, “And I’d be damned if someone would buy you a ring from a vendor you cow.”
A pair of cool hands was on my shoulders, and a voice said, “Sara, it’s all right.” At the sound of Frank’s voice I turned away from the woman’s shocked face and stared up into his cold eyes. “I will handle it,” he offered, and for some reason I trusted him. Something about Mr. Luoma was genuine, the complete opposite of his wife, who was seated next to a fidgeting Stephanie. I threw her a glance that communicated, “Yeah I do that too.”
Wesker made his way over to Frank and me, throwing glances at “the cow.”
“Thanks Frank,” I whispered, and he released me from his hold. “Jeffrey, let’s go home.” Without a goodbye to anyone I took Wesker’s hand and led him out to the Trailblazer, and thankfully the ride home was a silent one.
February 14, 2001 Wednesday 9:55 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire
Location: Red Lodge, Montana
Status: Disappointed
My actions tonight had more than likely sealed Sara’s fate in Red Lodge, but in the end I had done what needed to be done and that was defend Jeffrey’s honor as a credible man in this town. We had a while to go here and the last thing we needed was for the law enforcement here to suspect him of being a wife-beater. In the den I found Wesker deleting messages off of the phone, apparently still drunk seeing as he looked a bit confused.
The ring shone brightly on my finger, reminding me of tonight all over again. Should I have taken it off? I decided against it because I feared that I would end up forgetting to put it back on next time I went out in public.
“Are you all right?” I asked nervously.
Plainly he replied with, “Fine.”
With a forced laugh I said, “Good because this fucking zipper is stuck.” Without asking I neared him and turned my back on the blonde, waiting quite a while before he actually made any move to assist me. When he did he jerked his hand down, and I heard the dress tear angrily. “Shit,” I hissed, trying to pull away, but his hand kept pulling down and I spun around before my naked torso was revealed. “What the fuck Wesker?”
The blond brushed it off, swatting the air as he said, “I’ll buy you another one.”
Holding my dress up over something he had already seen may have appeared pointless, but it wasn’t like I had ever voluntarily paraded around his house in boy shorts and a Victoria’s Secret pushup. “Are you drunk?” By his answer I would have a clear definition of “drunken Wesker.”
“All Redfields must have been Neanderthals. Idiotic questions,” he mumbled
My brow rose as my eyes widened at his statement, and though I understood that he hated my brother for some unknown reason he didn’t have to bring any more of our family into this. “Yeah and your tables are so bare because your family won “Family of the Fucking Year!”
His response was the swipe at the telephone and it clattered noisily to the floor, just at my feet. “Of course you would be too foolish to understand.”
“Oh yeah poor Wesker! He’s been human for like three months and his life has become so fucking hard! I’m a human all day every day so suck it up the titty milk still on your lips and stop being such a pussy!” He picked up the purplish, marble egg that sat on the table where the telephone once rested and threw it right at me. I ducked to avoid what could have been a catastrophic collision. Mouth literally agape, I pressed the material of my dress farther into my skin.
His finger was targeted on me as he spat, “Do not ever dare to compare twenty-one years of your life spent as human to mine when I have done so almost twice as long. In the 60s I was human, in the 70s I was humans, the 80s, when you were a simple child I was human.”
Ignoring his facts I clenched my teeth and said fuck modesty as I decided to let my dress do as it pleased. “You wanna throw shit? Fine!” The candy bowl on the table next to me was the first thing I saw, and though I couldn’t aim it at the drunk’s head I threw it at the front door. “How’s this for throwing shit? You can buy more!” I added quickly, hating him more than ever.
Him. His power. His money.
The fake plant that set behind the late candy bowl was next. “How’s this?” Soon, we were both throwing whatever we could pick up: remotes, candy dishes, decorative ashtrays, and even the poor coat rack.
“So fuck you and all of your fancy shit!” I caught site of a pair of his sunglasses sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch, so I stomped over and back after retrieving them. I threw them down and I noticed how taut he held his jaw, “And. Fuck. These. Shades.” Angrily I stomped my foot on them, hearing them break under my stilettos.
Sobriety was fighting to win out over his drunkenness, something I could tell from the look in his eyes, and it was almost like he had lost control and given in to some fit of rage. After he threw that egg at me though I was unable to stay here any longer, so I finally gave into my urge to let this little agreement fall through. I changed into the outfit that I came in, gathered the suitcase and its original contents, and I returned to the den for some reason. It looked like a tornado had torn through the den, wood, glass, and other debris littered the floor from the fight earlier but when it was happening I didn’t realize how bad things were. Potpourri and decorative marbles were scattered across the floor, providing quite a hazard for the home’s inebriated owner.
He was not my problem anymore though.
Really, it didn’t matter if he witnessed me leave or not, but it did bother me that his car was gone when I went out to the Trailblazer. To keep the cold at bay I had no choice but to start the engine though, all the while home I was thinking, “What if he gets pulled over or wrecks?” As I merged onto the interstate though I had to concentrate on the road, checking every exit to ensure I wouldn’t end up somewhere like Tuscan and not realize it.
By 7:15 A.M. I was home, and as soon as I entered my freezing, cold apartment I turned up the thermostat and went off to my bed, noticing the difference right away.
Home.
February 15, 2001 Thursday 4:55 AM

Subject: Redfield, Chris
Location: Albany, New York
Status: Fine
Jill was about the only person that could keep me awake no matter how tired I was or where I had to be the next day. Sex was one of the reasons but right now we were just talking, something I actually enjoyed with her. There was no subject that she couldn’t make entertaining, well save for a few.
“I dunno,” she began, “that Sergei guy creeped me out. I don’t like him.”
With a scoff I said, “Aw come on I think he’s kinda cool.”
“The only reason you like him is because he wants to drink Wesker’s blood as vodka.”
Despite that being the truth I rolled onto her, making her laugh, taking advantage of the moment to place a kiss on her neck. “You Miss Valentine are quite the racist.”
She rolled her blue eyes. "Hmm, Russian isn’t a race. I’m starting to think you really are dumb.”
“You’re not still fuckin’ with me cause of a big brain.” My eyebrows wiggled as I gave her a devilish grin. She always looked so beautiful in bed, disheveled and exhausted at my hand, but I didn’t care about dominating her, just being with her was enough for me. The two most important women in my life were Jill and Claire, both who were very emotional beings, but they kept me on my toes I suppose.
Also, I think practically raising Claire made me into an empathetic man prematurely in life, and because it had to be practiced with my little sister it was an automatic response to Jill’s distress. The mansion incident was no different either; our separation nearly killed me as I grappled with the possibility that she was dead. This was something that I never shared with her for fear that she’d believe that I would give up on her at the first sign of trouble, but I wouldn’t.
“I love you.”
My eyes shot open at those three words, “Jill-”
“I know you love me too,” she said quickly, cutting me off before she got the speech again. “Chris, I don’t care if you come back with one leg or not at all, I’ll still love you. What does a title do to change it so much?”
She had pretty much set herself up for that one, answering her own question. “Exactly.” Blue eyes stared up at me sadly, and I knew that she felt rejected.
“Are you fucking someone else?” she demanded, a scowl on her face.
“Jill no. I only make love with you!” I cried, pinning her beneath me with her arms over her head. “Just you Valentine. I was here with you on the fourteenth. I stayed all night. Just like I’ll do tonight.” Her defensive glare was fading now as she realized that her accusation had been completely unfounded and that I was right. It was a natural response when someone did not want to officially date you but I felt like Jill should have known better by now that just about every waking moment was spent with her.“Now a kiss before bedtime.”
With a softened attitude she closed her eyes and let me bring my lips down to hers. “And I love you, and only you.” My reminder was loud and clear, and I rolled off of her only to wrap my arms around her since she always felt better when I cuddled with her. Maybe someday when all of this was over we could be together, but until then she would just have to accept an illegitimate love. “Happy Valentine’s Day Valentine,” I whispered, shortly after falling asleep only to dream of how our fourteenth was spent.
February 15, 2001 Thursday 3:08 PM

Subject: Redfield, Claire
Location: Denver, Colorado
Status: Confused
I thought that this was what I wanted, although there were various factors I had not taken into account: food, money, and my schoolwork. Leaving on a whim was never the smart thing to do; however, it was the Claire Redfield thing to do. Only a little of the cash I had in “Sara’s” wallet went to food since initially I had no intention of using anymore of Wesker’s money. If he wanted the Trailblazer he could take it, and if he wanted the card shredded then I would do just that for him, and as I realized more and more how this seemed like a traditional breakup I began laughing aloud to myself.
“I left Albert Wesker,” I said to myself, cackling after the odd sentence left my lips. The familiar sound of Mr. Sidorov’s broom disturbed my lunatic moment, and in response I stomped my bare foot down hard on the floor. Fucker.
“Oh fuck it,” I groaned to myself, standing up and walking to the kitchen to fix myself a Whiskey Sour. To me it was never too early to get drunk, and it didn’t matter at this point anyway if I fell asleep since no one was depending on me to cook dinner or ask for help in Biology or Philosophy. “Stupid scientist.”
A loud knock interrupted my sulking, thank God, because I had no real reason to be upset. I had been lying to my brother and living the high life with his sworn enemy! I even willingly kissed him a few times so maybe home was where I needed to be, at least here I could think out loud, “Claire, what the fuck were you thinking?”
The thought of Wesker made me stop halfway to the door. What if he had come for me? That inexplicably made my heart warm, and for that I decided that whoever it was just needed to go away, especially if it was him.
More banging. “Claire! It’s Byron!”
With a heavy sigh I trudged the last few steps to let him in, not even bothering to greet him. “Claire,” he breathed, taking in the sight of me. “Where the hell have you been?”
Going back to my couch I said, “Places.”
“Uh, I was kinda worried,” he declared, holding his hands out for an explanation, but I only rolled my eyes at him. Byron was an okay person, just very young and immature as all twenty-one-year-old boys were, and I couldn’t fault him for acting his age. His dark-brown hair was secured in subtle spikes on the top of his head, he had chocolate brown eyes that made his promises all the more believable, and he always dressed nicely despite being the biggest party-boy I’d ever known. Today he wore a navy button-down with dark jeans, and I wondered exactly how much mommy and daddy had paid for that shirt.
Taking a sip of my drink I said, “Well, I’m fine.”
“Kinda early to be drinking Redfield.” Byron saying my name reminded me of Wesker and his preference to refer to others by their surnames as if it were mockingly polite, and that was most likely why he did it. Why was everything going back to him?
To keep the conversation moving along so my mind would not continue to settle on the blond I said, “Never.”
With a grin he said, “Well, since you got the whisky out you mind pouring me a glass?”
“Aren’t you driving?” Really, I just wanted him to go away and let me drink in peace. I no longer cared if I a certain shaded figure was the subject of my thoughts.
“I’ll be here for a bit.”
Deciding not to argue I pointed to the kitchen, “Grab a glass.” Byron knew his way around my kitchen pretty well, having come over on various occasions with the munchies to raid my fridge and leave it bare with not even light mayo left spared.
“So,” he began, sitting next to me and setting his glass with ice cubes on the table in front of us, “what has you drinking so early?” He poured as much as he could, and I knew he was going to get hammered.
How strange that I turned to hard liquor when it was the very reason that I fled Wesker’s residence in Red Lodge. “No reason,” I lied, cradling my head in my hand.
He chugged his whiskey down, and filled his glass once more. “Oh I know what that means,” he claimed with a sneer.
Refreshing my own glass I asked, “What?”
With a little laugh Byron said, “A woman says nothing’s wrong when it’s obvious that’s a lie? Means she’s pissed at a man.”
Though he was correct, I glared at him angrily before I threw back my glass. “Oh please.”
“True shit,” he drawled, rolling his eyes at me. “I’m guessing he gave you the ring then showed his true colors.”
“How did you…” I forgot that I still wore the ten thousand dollar ring on my left ring finger, and though I should have left it at the house back in Red Lodge I didn’t. Also, I hadn’t entirely forgotten about it until I woke up this morning after attempting to ignore it the whole drive back.
Whistling dramatically he said, “That’s a lotta rock.”
Guiltily I stared down at it and sighed, knowing that this thing should have been off of my finger a long time ago.
“You don’t need to be tied down.” Byron finished off another glass and looked me in the eyes. “You’re too fuckin’ hot to be throwing your freedom down the drain.”
Scowling was my chosen response, but for some reason instead I ended up giving him a half smile. “Shut up,” I warned, my glass inches from my lips.
Placing his own down, he put an arm around the back of the couch, turning his body towards me. “It’s true. I mean shit Redfield do you look in the mirror at all?” After downing my drink he took my glass from me and set it on the table. “Most of these college girls are just sloppy but you, you can drink, you can ride bikes, and through all of that shit at the end of the day you’re still tight as fuck.”
“Oh. My. God.” I covered my face with my hands with a smile of disbelief on my face.
“And you think I’m just trying to fuck but I’m tellin’ ya the truth here. You’re running after some guy that scared you all the way back to Denver when you could be living your life and partying that sexy little ass off while you got time.” The alcohol was starting to affect both of us, and I could tell because my lips were becoming numb. I was sure that Byron thought this way sober but it stayed as just that: thoughts.
Finally looking at him I said, “Byron stop.”
Leaning in closely to me, he gave a sigh. “Look, I’m not sayin’ open up wide for me, I mean if you’re concerned about your promise to big brother there are other forms of sex.” For a minute I actually considered the possible forms. “You’ve been drinking, I’ve been drinking, and there’s no one here that can tell us not to be young. I don’t like seein’ you down like this so why don’t you do something a little extreme to take you mind off of it?” He saw that I was hesitant so he added, “No one has to know.”
Unable to look up I asked, “Do you have any…” It kind of embarrassed me to say condoms out loud for some reason. Maybe because this wasn’t something that I would normally do, and despite the fact that I wasn’t giving him my virginity this still frightened me.
Smirking he said, “In my car, I’ll be right back.”
I didn’t know what I was supposed to do while I waited. Should I have gone to my room and gotten naked, or should l come up with some cheesy way to seduce him? Still, Wesker was on my mind and the ways he would have possibly reacted to my absence. If he came home last night to see that I wasn’t there and neither was the car he would have assumed that I went out, but if he woke up and I was still nowhere to be seen then would he have worried or assumed that I came back to Denver? I almost got lost in thought until I heard Byron return, a box in his hands, and with a heavy sigh I led him to my bedroom, unhappy with my decision but at the same time I knew the brunet was right.
I had to do something extreme.
There was no attempt by Byron to romance me: he removed his pants and boxers, revealing that just the thought of this had him erect, and I couldn’t feel sicker. Something in my head told me to stop, but my body continued and I knew then that I had had too much to drink. I removed my bottoms to match him but then he only took off my shirt and bra for me without my consent. I was too faded to fight this.
I got on all fours on my bed, falling onto my head when my arms failed me. Byron only chuckled at me before he got behind me, and then the smell of the rubber invaded my nose. One of his hands was on my back to steady me, while the other guided his length, and he lingered for a moment.
“Keep quiet for me,” he warned, and right after a sharp pain struck me so that I understood why he had said such a thing to me. I was hitting the headboard with my palm so that it began stinging, but he continued to attempt to push it in. He stopped for a moment, and then he tried once more without considering how it would feel to me. This wasn’t right, I was drunk so I shouldn’t have been able to feel a thing, yet I could feel this without a doubt. As he continued to try to force it in I let out a shout to let him know that it wasn’t going to happen, and that this was definitely uncomfortable to me.
“Shh,” he hissed.
“What was that?” It sounded like my door had opened, but Byron only shushed me once more so he could continue uninterrupted.
Then I could no longer feel him. “What the fuck?” he exclaimed, and I turned around quickly to see him on the floor, Wesker standing over him with his hands balled into fists. His jaw was clenched so that I could make out the bone from beneath his skin, the veins in his arms and head were so visible that it looked like they were about to burst, and his head snapped in my direction.
“Get dressed,” he snarled. Quickly, just to hide my body I clumsily dressed, Byron doing the same except he was doing it for another reason: to prepare for a fight. “Get out,” the blond spat, but Byron being as hard-headed as he was only crossed his arms over his chest.
“Who the fuck are you gramps?” he demanded, looking Wesker up and down, sizing him up, but he was too dumb to know not to judge Wesker by his age.
It only took one show of defiance before Wesker grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and roughly threw him into the wall. “Get out!” he roared, sending a chill down my spine as I watched my guest stumble out of my room, slamming the door to my apartment behind him.
Behind those shades I knew that there was disappointment, and another emotion that I was unable to assess or too much of a coward to dare claim that I saw it. Feeling as frail as I was at the moment, I played with my hands, afraid to look at him.
Of course I was spared the task of speaking first as Wesker decided that he would begin. “What are you doing?”
My inability to answer was contributed to my shame and fear, yet Wesker wanted answers not frightened glances and I could tell that his temper was flaring beyond his control. “Do you have any idea what I went through to find you?” His voice was harsh in the small space, too loud for my own ears. “I searched Red Lodge top to bottom for you until I was informed that you were seen on the interstate.” His voice was calmer now, though his demeanor remained wrathful.
“Just because we have not been attacked, it does not mean that no one knows you are helping me. I risked my own life coming back here to make sure that you were alive, and the point of employing you was to ensure that I would be safe. The first thing you is run off-”
Something in me grew enraged and I yelled, “I wouldn’t have run off had you not thrown a two pound, marble egg at my head! I haven’t done anything to you and you get back to the house and treat me like shit when I put my issues aside to help you for a promise you probably won’t keep!”
Ignoring my rant he continued as if he had never been interrupted. “You come back here, soak your problems in alcohol, and then you attempt to have sex with the first body that shows up.” Shaking his head he grimaced at my poor choices, making a few tears spring to my eyes. “Get your things, let’s go.”
He swept from my room, his aura of rage lingering, and my feelings hurt more than ever. It was hard for me to understand exactly why, though it possibly had to do with the fact that he made me feel like a drunken whore. Something in his voice told me that there was more to it than that though, and that he was reacting so strongly because of something he was not telling me. And then I wondered absently where Mr. Sidorov was during all of this? Once more I brought my red suitcase with me and made my way downstairs with Wesker who refused to speak a word to me.
The drive back to Red Lodge was quiet despite my efforts to begin a conversation with Wesker. He frowned the whole nine hours which I didn’t think was possible for anyone, yet he managed somehow. I just had no idea what to expect when we got back “home,” and as I stared down at the gold ring I felt that maybe I had an idea of what exactly was happening.
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