The Gift

Quietly, Pilate kept his eyes on Victor, studying his every movement. He twisted the cut locks of hair around his fingers.

Why had Victor been so mad? Pilate still wasn't sure. He had been trying to compliment Victor by saying he liked his hair. It hurt his stomach that he had been upset with him.

Pilate rubbed his fingers against his chest, feeling his heart pound furiously. He still hadn't gotten over all the attention he was getting. It was amazing! Victor hadn't hit him or yelled at him...Pilate believe it. He enjoyed finally having a friend.

Pilate flinched at the sound of a stomach growling. He blinked, watching Victor grab his stomach and turn dark red.

“Want me to get us something to eat?” Pilate offered, eager to keep his new friend comfortable.

Victor gaped at him, wrapping his arms around himself.

“It's okay,” Pilate said quickly, “I'm kinda hungry too.” He stood, dusting off his shirt. “Please don't go anywhere. It'll be just a couple minutes.”

Grabbing his cell phone and shoving it into his pocket, Pilate slipped out the door, and his smile immediately faded. He wasn't safe anymore.

He cut several turns, mindlessly trudging down the halls he had memorized. His guild was likened to a maze, but after four years, he no longer felt confused by its layout. He easily found the break room.

The break room was made of the same, plain concrete that all the rooms in the structure shared, but t.v.s mounted on the wall attempted to make it seem more homely. Five mages were strewn around the room on chairs, intently watching sports.

“Pilate?” a voice asked.

Pilate looked up, grimacing.

Hawkins, a six-foot-plus monster of a man, loomed over him. He had a rough, weather-beaten face, and a thin scar ran across his cheek. A trench coat concealed the weapons and muscle Pilate knew he had.

“Where's Asher?”

Pilate shuffled awkwardly. “I, um...I don't know. He never really texted me back.”

Hawkins frowned deeper than he usually did. He hesitantly reached his hand forward, attempting to grab his shoulder.

Pilate whimpered, staggering away. He knew what the touch of an adult meant. It meant bruises he would have to hide when he went to school the next morning. Pilate didn't realize his hand had instinctively went to the knife on his belt.

Hawkins sighed heavily, shaking his head as his weary green eyes hung over Pilate. “The boss made food, if you're hungry. I know Asher doesn't really…” he trailed off, turning around and promptly focusing on the football game playing in the corner of the room.

Pilate shuffled to the foldable table in the back of the room, where deli sandwiches meticulously wrapped in plastic wrap sat on a tray. He stuffed two sandwiches under his arm, grabbing two bottles of water from the cooler as well.

Eyeing the other side of the table, Pilate snaked out his arm, snatching a cookie from an ordinate plate.

Maybe Victor likes cookies, Pilate thought. I really hope he does.

A woman appeared at the door, leaning against the frame for support. Blood seeped down her forehead, and her clothes were tattered.

“Tristan?” Hawkins said gruffly, his pupils dilating, “What happened?”

“T-there's intruders,” she rasped, “They're in the basement. They already killed Michael. They're armed and crazy.”

“Pilate,” Hawkins snapped, “Get somewhere safe, now.”

Pilate clutched his food, heart catching in his throat. An intruder?! That meant Victor could be in trouble!

Author's Note- bless pilate

sorry for the delay!!!!!! ive been rly busy rip