Agnus Dei

Hello once again! Thank you Kylee for commenting!
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"Elle..." James addressed his childhood friend behind the counter of her grandparent's bakery. They were alone, although it was only midday, and he sat at a bar stool snacking on what was left of the stale bread.

"What's wrong sweetie? You look horrible..." She took off her oven mitts and pressed her hand against his forehead. The door bell sounded off, signaling a customer's arrival. "You should rest plenty"

Looking up, Elle found the same scary man from this morning. He stood properly. Chin up, back straight, hands folded in front of him. Yet his eyes destroyed all decorum that his body demonstrated.

"Hello, sir. Can I help you?"

"English Tea." Balaur took up a seat next to James, obviously ignoring the teen.

"I just bought some today! You should consider yourself lucky." Elle smiled, poured the tea and set it in front of the man. Finding that he would not provide any response, she resumed checking James' temperature. "It definitely seems higher than normal."

Though embarrassed that Balaur would witness him complaining again, James confessed, "Father took me to the doctor yesterday... They diagnosed me with TB."

"Oh no..." She was sincerely broken by that. Tears swelled her eyes as she clasped James' head between two chilly hands. "I love you, you know... Anything that you need, just tell me."

"Some medicine maybe." James laughed, ripping himself away from her motherly arms.

"Actually, at the hospital in Vermont there's some type of experimental medicine. They're accepting anyone with TB."

"Really?"

"Yea, but the success rate is pretty low.... But it's still a shot, right?"

"Not one person has walked out alive. You will consign your lover to his death so quickly?" Balaur spoke, looking down inside the empty cup he held, almost reminiscently.

A spark of anger controlled Elle's next words, "It's at least a chance! I don't want to see him die!"

"So, instead, you choose to send him away to die? Does his dying face scare you so badly you would give false hope and isolate him in an unknown environment?" Balaur spat back. Elle looked a bit ashamed. Loosing her temper with a customer for the first time in nine years.

"He doesn't know what he's talking about, Elle. Don't worry. I'll save up some money and take a look. If it seems too fishy, I'll come back." James coolly broke the silence. The woman didn't look any pacified though. "Hey. You want the best for me. I know that! Any chance is worth taking."

Elle drew her hands in his delicate blond hair, stroking away both of their worries. "Thank you, James."

"Heh." He smiled at her, withdrawing Elle's own hidden smile, "I have to get back home. Alex is itching to claim my things."

Elle kissed him on the cheek, barely thinking twice. "Bye, see you tomorrow morning! And don't talk to strangers."

He exited the bakery , his portions of bread eaten and tucked safely in his stomach. The brisk autumn air burned his throat, daring him to take the first cough. Ignoring this will, James set off for home.

"He is going to die." Balaur told Elle. The woman looked sadly at him, tears nearly falling.

"I know."

... ...

A powerful hand clutched his arm, forcing James to surrender or have his arm pulled off. Readying his fist for confrontation- he didn't like them, but he knew how to get out of them- to stare face to face with his assailant.

"Do not go." Balaur's thick accented voice commanded.

"To Vermont? What gives you the right-" James couldn't believe this man had the gall to direct him. He attempted to swipe Balaur's grip from his body, but found it wouldn't budge.

"You would die prematurely for your lover's sake?" The man snarled, gripping the teen harder.

"She's not my lover!" James demanded. How could he be dating her?

"Then you let anyone kiss you?" His anger grew with the pressure applied to his clutch.

"Why should I explain anything for you? You've been a bastard since I met you!" James yelled and countered Balaur's vindictive attack, "What about you? Why are you here? This town doesn't need you!"

The man's eyes followed him like a vulture and suddenly the power James gained had been diminished. "Though you say this, the orchestra does need me. The sound of burning carcasses and dying animals is not appealing."

"That doesn't answer my question." James retorted, handling the struggle maturely. It was his first time dealing with such a stubborn fool, besides Edmund. "Why this town? I'm sure other orchestras' needed you more!"

"I like the silence." Balaur relayed in a whisper heavily ladened with his foreign accent. "Now, I would like to know about the girl from earlier. For you to blindly follow her virule words to death, she must be someone of stature."

"She's like a mother to me. Elle's always taking care of me! She would never do that."

"Then who is the boy in the orchestra ?" The man continued, and when opposed with a look of refusal, he chimed- a voice thick and deep with a hint of pleasure, "You asked two questions, therefore I am entitled to two."

"Raoul is special. He's one of the reasons why I trust Elle so much..." James adopted a pensive countenance, dropping his arm to his side as Balaur released him. The teen realized how much Raoul meant to him. Without someone to confide in, rely on, he would crumble.

Balaur broke through the melancholy haze arrogantly, "Special." He pushed, "Does that mean you enjoy a man holding you at night?" James flinched from the question and -ignoring the number rule that Balaur created and capriciously broke- released a torrid flood of feelings that equated few words.

"Yes I do, but that has nothing to do with Raoul! He's engaged to Elle!"

James froze. His disgusting secret was out. He had finally admitted it to someone. Raoul only knew what his father did to him. He didn't know that even through all that, James still preferred men.

His breath came back to him at once, flooding his lungs with cold air. This immediately triggered a coughing fit, racking his body with pain. Balaur took hold of him, pressing the teen closer. The man could smell blood sputtering from James. Pulling out a rather expensive handkerchief, he covered James' mouth with it, barely holding his self control.

The fit was excruciating to watch, even more so to live through. His lungs attacked his whole body, mutiny on his very soul. But the comfort of Balaur's arms and chest gave such warmth the pain in his mind seemed to ease away. The physical agony amplified inch by inch. His insides hurt and seared, pumping blood through his mouth, daring to milk him dry.

And suddenly there was relief. Two pinches on the inside of his wrist signaled the end of his seizure-like fit. Slowly he calmed down, breathing with violent spasms. James felt the cold, hard surface of Balaur's chest, the softness of his braid swaying against his cheek. Something was happening... but he couldn't stay awake to investigate. Leaning against his conductor's chest, James noticed his mind slowly sinking into unconsciousness.

... ...

Shrewd, yet familiar, pain woke him. The constant rhythm of gyrating in and scraping out. The familiar voice grunting heavily in his ear. The same person slobbering on his defiled body.

Blinking, James confirmed his aching suspicion. Edmon was "punishing' him again. No matter how many years he went through this, the undying hatred swept away all pain and replaced it with anger. Someday... and that day was soon, he would run to Vermont. Escape this hell and perhaps even find a cure for his illness.