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Zach rose to his feet, started to pull on his clothes and delicately murmured,
“I only wanted to make you feel good.”
There were many things Zach could have said. Countless replies were running through his mind, the many ways he could give him a piece of what he was thinking. They were tempting. Like water to his burning anger, all of them! And he had the balls to say them, fuck yes he did.
But when he glanced over at Gentry, he couldn’t bring himself to. It wasn’t pity, it was something else. Something which made him sore inside, and stopped up up his throat.
There he was, leaning against the table with his fists on the surface and head hanging low. It was hard to look at him. Even harder was knowing what made him get that haunted look on his face, and that getting rid of ghosts wasn’t as easy as using a gun.
But no, he didn’t pity him. Hurt or not, Zach had seen enough of his favorite rival to know what he was capable of, to know that he was far from being anyone’s prey.
Zach dressed quietly, and in a matter of minutes he was prepared to go. Gentry was a tough guy, he’d get over it. Zach put his hand on the doorknob, but then dropped it down again.
“You stopped being a victim a long time ago.” He wanted to tell him, but didn’t.
Instead, he dropped to his knees and slowly crept over to Gentry, gently nudging the side of his leg with his his cheek. He bit his teeth past the burning shame, knowing that, at worst, there would be a good laugh at his expense.
“What the hell are you doing.” Gentry grumbled, not even bothering to look at him.
“Whatever you want.”
“I'm not scared of you."
"You aren't scared of anything."
"I still like you.”At this, Gentry looked down.
Zach grinned back up at him.