Dee hadn't seen who recorded them or how. They were too busy running, as sirens approached the roaring fires of the sewage plant. Their heart had been beating so hard, they barely heard the police and firemen. Only after hiding the lighter and empty petrol cans in Tam's car - fuck that guy - did they crouch down in the alley behind the coffee shop they used to work at. Stealing their Wi-Fi, they looked at local news. All seemed good - up until they opened twitter.
There was a link to Liveleak. Dee watched it three, four, five times, making sure their face wasn't visible. They needed to get rid of their jacket and bandana, but the rest of their clothes should be fine. No place to go, they went to the local park. They used to live with Tamian, up until a few weeks ago. The cigarette burns on their arm were still visible. They really hoped the police would connect the fire to him, considering he lost his job at the sewage department a week ago. Dee could practically hear him say how much he did not need that job, how he was so much better. But everyone would attest to his character, to how much of a piece of shit he truly was. Or maybe Dee was biased. Living with Tam for a year might do that. But they hoped they weren't. Looking around, they couldn't see anyone else wandering between the trees. It made sense, considering how late it was. They threw their jacket into the river running through the park. It dipped in and out of the stream, soon drifting out of sight. The water should get rid of the evidence, hopefully. It also reminded Dee of their own needs. Which led them to another incredibly stupid, self-indulgent idea.
Camera on their dick, they pissed against a tree. "Actual arsonist live leak. Happy?" They quickly added the text into the video afterward, and uploaded the video to the website, making sure to tag it as similar as possible to the original video. It was a risk, to do something like this, but frankly, Dee thought the people on that website were dumb fucks anyway. Zipping their pants up, they wondered where to go now. Maybe they should leave the city... but they'd need money for it. So Dee just wandered through the city, trying to keep out of sight. A few hours later, they curled up in the entrance to a shop they knew would open later and took their phone out again.
A message. Dee hadn't even known that the website had dms of any sort. It felt… illogical, if not dangerous. And yet, they still clicked on it. "That's you?" Those were the only words. "Like, my dick?" they asked, not thinking much further. The answer arrived instantly. "Yes, is that you pissing?" Was this stranger… into that? Or why did they ask? "People just reupload videos a lot of time," this person added. Their username was just a randomly generated line of numbers, not too dissimilar from Dee's button mash. "Yeah, that's me," they finally replied. A moment of silence, no more questions. Was their curiosity satiated? "And the fire?" So it wasn't over yet. "That was me too." They were going to get rid of the phone anyway, probably get out of town, so why did it matter if they answered? They'd never use any of these accounts again, never posted anything that could be used to find them.
"I want to meet you." That message pulled Dee out of their train of thoughts. "Why?" They truly didn't understand. There was no answer for a moment, for so long, Dee was about to shut their phone down. "You should get rid of your phone, they can trace those. It's a burner, right?" The person completely ignored their question. Maybe they shouldn't have entertained this stranger at all. And still, they kept answering. "Yes, it is." Dee started using burner phones when Tamian kept calling them each time they were out of the house alone. "There's a little shop, in the middle of the city, buys and sells used electronics. If you leave it there, there's a good chance someone else will use it." The stranger kept going. "Why do you care?" Dee was getting impatient. No concrete answer, still, but there was a promise: "I'll see you there."
It was the dumbest idea.
Incredibly stupid even, a lot more than Dee usually assumed they could be.
But they were sneaking through the streets at 4am, to meet a stranger.
The phone landed in the water, they didn't plan to follow this stranger's plan completely. The night was cold, and their cheeks burned. Maybe it was the idea of no longer being outside that got them going like this. But 10 minutes later, they walked through the streets around that tech shop, looking around, frantically, feeling very stupid. There was still no one on the street, no one awake. Suddenly, they got pulled out of their trance by a whistle. They looked all around them, until a voice called to them: "Up here!" A little face was poking out a window, out of one of the highest apartments. They could barely make out any of its features. Without having been told, they found the fire escape, and started to climb up.
The window was wide open, and Dee slipped into the dark apartment, feeling a little like a robber. They couldn't see the man right away, but the place looked neat. Not pretty, just neat - clean, practical but lifeless. Closing the window behind them, Dee knew they had to keep moving. Quietly, they snuck closer to the door. "Come in, don't be shy," there he was, apparently. The voice was deep, and slightly raspy. Dee took a breath, fixed their posture, and confidently walked in. First glance revealed a bedroom, small and tidy, and a pale man in a wheelchair. "I'm Tristan," he raised his hands, as if to show he truly had no weapons hidden. "Glad to see I didn't scare you off." The thought felt silly, now that they got to see him. The man was short, and while decently buff, unless he liked to sit in wheelchairs for fun, Dee could probably outrun him, if he decided to try anything weird. The longer they stood there, the less they felt like that was the case. They still needed to know. "Dee," they leaned back against the door frame: "And you still haven't told me why you wanted to see me."
"Well, I guess I should explain myself," he laughed, only to stop and look at him, intently:
"I want you to fuck my face." Tristan looked so matter-of-factly, like this was the most normal request. But Dee just stood there, mouth hanging open, staring at him, like an idiot. "What?" Was the first thing they managed to say. "You heard me," Tristan replied right away. It felt incredibly absurd. Dee started to laugh: "Why - do you think fires are hot?" A sneaky grin crept up Tristan's face: "Kinda," he leaned forward, conspiratorially. "I used to be an arsonist myself." Dee couldn't help but glance at his legs, that was probably really rude, but Tristan sighed and gestured to the bed next to him: "You can sit, you know? If you're already wanting to hear a story."
Without thinking much, they followed his orders and sat down next to him. Maybe it was the sleep depreciation, but they didn't feel in too much danger. Despite the cold interior design, the place was warm and Tristan looked just dangerous enough to be very interesting. They could never resist a man who seemed like he might get them into trouble. "I started 8 years ago, I stopped 3 years later. Clearly against my will," he gestured at his legs. Dee already interrupted him: "How old are you?" They were 12 years old back then, 15 when he stopped. They only moved here 2 years ago, so whatever he was about to tell them, it was truly new to them. "...you make it sound like I'm ancient, I'm just 27." He looked younger than he was, at least Dee thought so. "I just turned 20." For a moment, they sat in silence. "Now I feel like a creep," Tristan leaned over, to get a good look at them. Dee looked up, upset: "Hey, this is all very legal! Well, besides the arson." Tristan was back to smiling, hearing that. "How many places did you burn down?" They asked, more than ready to hear more.
"12 attempts," he leaned back again and closed his eyes. "4 didn't really take at all, 6 only burned partially, and 2 burned to the ground. Never killed or hurt anyone, of course, I wasn't after that. I spent weeks making sure the places I was choosing were completely empty." He seemed happy, thinking back to it. "So why did you do it?" Dee asked, looking confused. "Just the thrill," he didn't even think about it twice. "Nothing made me feel alive like inhaling the smoke and feeling the heat. Why did you do it, if not for that?" Dee felt a little silly now, next to this professional arsonist. "Revenge," they looked away: "I'm trying to pin it on my ex." Instead of explaining further, they pulled their shirt up and showed him the scars. No words needed when his imagination could do the work.
He reached over, and circled the skin with his thumb. Dee didn't expect it, was about to pull away, but it was weirdly calming. "Do you have a place to stay?" Tristan asked, voice surprisingly soft. "What's giving it away?" Dee still sounded bitter as they replied, pushing their shirt down again. He didn't reply, instead pushing his hands through their hair: "You can stay, we don't really have to do anything." Their stomach twisted, something about the softness in it all pissed them off. "Why?" they asked again, starting to feel stupid for how often they repeated the same question. Tristan leaned over, and kissed them on the cheek. "I like you already," his breath was warm against their neck: "And I'm very fucking lonely nowadays." They couldn't move, their face growing warm having him this close. Thankfully, he moved back. "People stopped talking to me when my leg got crushed," he got up as he spoke, and limped over to sit next to them. "It's an easy offer. You need a place, I need company."
Dee was tired, hungry, and cold. They'd be insane to say no. They hadn't taken a proper shower in a month. Suddenly they realized they must look like shit. Tears were welling up in their eyes. "And when you grow tired of me, you'll throw me away?" That wasn't even what they wanted to say. Their worry was to get kicked out, but their words seemed to have hit a sore spot anyway. He looked so sad. "No, no, I won't," without warning, Tristan pulled them into a hug. "Someone did that to me once, I won't do that to anyone else." He pushed them away, holding them by the shoulders as if he wanted to inspect them. "You did something beautiful tonight," he smiled, so genuinely. "But you look tired as shit. Want to shower before going to bed?" Dee didn't know what to say, so they just nodded. The pain they had been carrying with them returned now that they felt seen, for the first time in weeks.
Showering, putting on Tristan's clothes, crawling into bed - Dee didn't really think while doing any of it. Their limbs felt heavy and their head empty. They didn't even complain when he crawled into bed next to them. He hadn't hurt them yet, he wouldn't do it in the next few hours. But out of their thick shirt and jeans, they were so cold. Saying nothing, they moved closer, cautiously pressing their back against his chest. They fell asleep like that, next to a stranger.
When they woke up, Tristan was gone. Dee didn't get up at first, just listened for any clue what was going on. But there was only silence. Sneaking into the living room, they still couldn't see him. Instead, they found a note stuck to the kitchen door. 'At work. Make yourself at home.' He even left them a key on the kitchen table. Looking around for a clock, Dee realized they'd been sleeping for far too long - it was already 1pm. Truthfully they could have slept for another 8 hours, they were still exhausted, but this might be a rare chance. Who knew when Tristan would be back… While he had been nice so far, too nice actually, they should use this time to find as much information on the man as possible. Better to be cautious than to find themselves in a fucked up version of American Psycho.
Nothing suspicious in the kitchen - they weren't even sure what they expected, poison? The only thing that was obvious was that the man wasn't a vegan and might have a slight overdependence on caffeine. Moving on to the small living room, Dee was once again struck by how empty it all looked. There was a small couch and a TV taking up most of the space, with one bookshelf pressed against the wall behind them taking up the rest. They turned on the TV and switched through the channels until they reached a local one. The program wasn't their actual concern, they just wanted to catch the news when they finally got to it. The books gave a little more insight into the man's psyche. The lower row was filled with heavy textbooks, about chemistry and biology. It did fit weirdly well to the image of a passionate arsonist. What followed above it did add to the potential psycho counter though. Dee didn't recognize any of the titles, but when flipping through the pages, they quickly realized that some of them were somewhere between porn and gore. The less extreme books were just bdsm or regular horror, and while Dee didn't want to judge, it wasn't really reassuring.
When they pulled a big book from the highest shelf, there was a thud. Dee froze for a moment, as if caught, but nothing happened. Slowly, they lowered their hand behind the row of books, until they hit metal. A gun. Reflexively, they pulled back, as if it could burn their hand. That opened up a lot of questions, too many, but it was best they didn't move anything at all. Quickly, they moved the book back in place, hopefully shoving the gun back into its initial position. What the fuck. A glance across the whole height of the bookshelf gave them enough assurance to keep going - he wouldn't guess they had been snooping. Their head was spinning, if he admitted to being a firebug so quickly, who knew what else he had done but hidden. There were incredibly mundane explanations for a gun too, though. Dee didn't know what to think.
Trying to clear their mind, they moved onto the bedroom. Dee opened all the closet doors and looked, but didn't dare to touch. Leaving traces felt a lot more dangerous than a few minutes before. Tristan's taste in fashion seemed to be dark colors and casual cuts, nothing fancy. But maybe he was hiding more beneath it all… slowly, they pushed a hand between the jackets, until they reached the inner wall. Nothing. With a deep sigh, they pulled back and started closing all the doors again. Next up, they turned to the nightstand. A laptop stood beside it, but they didn't know anything about passwords. The upper drawer contained both expected items and unexpected ones. A planner, condoms, pills, jewelry, a choker. Dee didn't recognize the name of the medicine, but assumed that must be the pills' purpose. Before opening the second drawer, they crouched down and looked under the bed. Yeah, jackpot, that was where he was keeping a lot more stuff. But before they could grab any of the boxes, they could hear the clicking sounds of a key.
Quietly but quickly, they shut the last drawer and moved to the bedroom door. Their timing was just right to see Tristan get in. His lap was filled with grocery bags, and despite their apprehension, they hurried closer to take them from him. "Hey, I got it," he nearly sounded upset, but his demeanor changed when they started looking through the bag's contents. Triumphantly, they pulled a pack of cookies out, but then got quiet. "Can I have these?" They glanced at him, nervously. "You can have all of it. My house is your house now." He grabbed the grocery bag again and pushed past them to get to the kitchen. Unsure what to do with themselves, they sat down on the couch and waited. Their mind was torn between the rustling sounds of things being moved and the news intro music. They shouldn't be here. Before they could report on anything serious, Tristan returned and sat down next to them. "Is that him?" He pointed at the TV. There was a badly pixelated picture of Tamian, being pulled out of his apartment. He was only a suspect, but that was enough for them.
"Yeah, that's the piece of shit," their voice was weak, so instead of giving themselves a chance to waver further, they opened the pack of cookies and shoved one into their mouth. Glancing over, Dee noticed that he was looking at them instead of the screen. They swallowed hard, and he smiled. "So, did you find anything interesting while I was gone?" Dee couldn't help but freeze. The fear must have been clear as day, because Tristan kept going, smiling softening: "Hey, I'm not mad. Everyone would look around a stranger's place, given the chance, right?" They weren't sure if they could trust him, even if he was playing sweet. "You uh- you read a lot of smut," was the only thing that came to mind. He looked back at the bookshelf and then stretched. "So we're ignoring the gun?" He asked, casually, as if it truly wasn't a big deal. Despite the tone, there was an accusation of sorts in the air. Dee could ignore it, or play stupid, act like they had no clue what he was talking about. But they couldn't. They were still too tired and hungry and scared to pretend. So maybe they should just get it over with.
"Are you going to hurt me?"
It was a simple question, it shouldn't take long to answer. And yet, Tristan was thinking about it deeply. "I'm not planning on it," he finally answered: "And I don't want to hurt you either." Dee turned to him, upset: "So why not a simple no?" Right now, he looked small next to them, despite it all. "Because you can never know what happens," he explained and reached for their hand, but Dee pulled away. "Like in your books? You might just slip and bash me over the head with something?" They wanted to say more, add more details of what they've read, but Tristan looked too disappointed. "It's just books, Dee," he looked away, face pink. "I'm not… picturing myself in that position. Ever." Silence filled the room. Dee didn't look at him, feeling their own face grow hot. They felt both stupid and justified for having said all of that. "So what," they finally kept going: "Do you want to get violated?" It was bitter, and maybe even spiteful, to ask a stranger such a thing. Dee knew it was unfair, but at the same time, he hadn't been entirely open about why he was being so generous either.
"Yes," Tristan finally replied, not even looking away anymore: "Beaten and bruised, under someone's boot - that's where I'm picturing myself. Does that make you feel any better about all of this?" Dee wanted to laugh, then apologize, get up and leave, and then, cry. But in the end, they did none of that. They just looked at this strange man, who was so open, and why? To gain their trust? For what goddamn reason? They were nothing special. Dee really didn't know where this was going. So instead, they asked for something completely different: "So what do you do for work?" He was taken off guard, clearly, but with a smirk, he replied: "Lab technician. Does that fit your picture of me?" It didn't, not perfectly at least. "Doesn't sound that dangerous," they shook their head. "I expected something more freaky." He laughed, and after a moment of just watching him, they joined in. "You know, I'd have a hard time as a fireman. But I did think about it, in the past. But that's one of the first groups they look at when sudden fires happen." Dee would have kept laughing if he didn't say it so seriously. Fire really was that important to him.
"I'm sorry I scared you," Tristan grabbed the remote, and shut the TV off. Turning to them, he started to explain: "I got the gun 5 years ago. I broke up with an ex, and he didn't take it well, and with the accident, I was feeling incredibly weak. I just needed something to feel like I could protect myself. He moved away half a year later, and since then, I just kept it behind the books." Somehow, hearing this actually made Dee feel better. Here it was, that perfectly sensible, yet not quite mundane explanation they had needed. "What happened?" They asked, vaguely pointing at his legs. For a moment he looked incredibly annoyed, but there was no way he couldn't have anticipated the question. "Got my left leg crushed completely by construction work. Right on partially. I was really lucky they got me when I was already on the street and not while I was trespassing. Otherwise, I'd be the one paying, not them," he didn't look at them while retelling that accident. "The nerve damage is gonna be permanent, but the doctors keep telling me I'm making great progress anyway."
Dee didn't know what took over them, but they leaned closer and kissed Tristan. Maybe they just needed to escape the horrible silence after him recalling a life-changing event. It was a short kiss, but he grabbed them by the arm before they could move back. "I'm sorry for asking so many questions," Dee mumbled, just a few centimeters apart. He just shook his head and kissed them again, desperately, like he hadn't been touched in ages. Still, he let go after a moment. "Don't apologize," he looked away. "You've done nothing wrong." Up close, they could count the small scars all over his nose and right cheek. They were even paler than the rest of his skin. "Not even the fire?" They asked, smiling. Tristan just laughed.
That's how they spend the next few hours, sitting close to each other, admitting things that no one else should know. At least that's how Dee felt, maybe Tristan told these things to every stranger he invited into his flat. Although, from what they could piece together, they might have been the very first visitor in a long time. Tristan's life seemed to concentrate on work, the gym and books. His old friend group didn't look at him anymore. They were all thrill seekers, all chasing something, and while he didn't say it, Dee had to wonder if they stayed away because he reminded them that it wasn't just all fun and games, but that there were consequences for what they were doing. Tristan didn't seem too sad about it, he talked about the lab, the people there, that one neighbor who came to check in on him whenever he was sick. "I think she's kinda crazy, counting footsteps each morning and all. She usually talks about me missing when I don't go to work." Dee thought it was sweet, though, thoughtful even. In turn, they told him about how they moved here just 2 years ago, how it fucked over their already messed up education, how people didn't like them. How Tamian seemed to be the only person there for them, up until he really was the only one left.
"So he isolated you," Tristan summarized. "Up until you basically dropped out of college?" They just nodded, tears stinging their eyes. He didn't say much more, just pulling them closer. They had slowly moved towards him during their talk, and now, they were basically already leaning against him, chest pressed against his shoulder. They smelled his cologne, and the slight layer of sweat hiding underneath it. "I'll help you," he declared, leaving them guessing why. "How?" they asked instead. Biting his lip as he was thinking, Tristan suddenly got up, limping towards his wheelchair. "Well, I'm starting by making us food. Did you eat anything but a few cookies today?" Dee got up and followed him into the kitchen. "Not really," they admitted. "Can I help you?" They would feel horrible, just sitting around.
The next half hour, Dee got to prove what an incredible klutz they were in the kitchen. Still, they managed to make beef ragout together, which Dee seemed to eat most of. They were still hungry, but didn't want to say anything. They were already taking so much and giving so little. Not that they really knew what to give to him. By all means, he seemed to have his whole life a lot more under control than they did. "What did you want to do? After college, I mean," he asked while washing dishes. Dee was peeling oranges, but stopped. "I never really knew where exactly I was going with all of this," they admitted after a moment. "It doesn't matter any more anyway. I couldn't pay for the last semester." He nodded, as if everything was truly said with that. "Did you plan to become a lab technician?" they asked in return. He moved over and smiled at them, stealing an orange slice. "I was thinking about more illegal shit."
The whole night, Tristan never asked for anything. Dee was tempted to ask, but really, should they try and ruin a good thing? If he didn't see any reason to pressure them, why should they. There was also the fact that they did indeed enjoy his company. He was just strange enough to keep them on their toes, without scaring them. At least, most of the time. At night, they both curled up in bed again. They faced him, and Dee was struck with how beautiful Tristan was. Deep set eyes, a straight, narrow nose, a strong jaw and yet, there was softness in his face. They leaned closer to kiss the mole under his left eye. As if given permission, he finally wrapped his arms around them and smiled.
"Why?" They looked at him in the dark, and his eyes seemed to glimmer in return. "Why do you keep me here? Why are you doing all of this?"
"I don't know," Tristan finally admitted. "I really don't know."