Like a Moth to a Flame

"You may as well go back to your place now. You were only really invited to make sure Timmy and I didn't make a run for it, right? Clearly those two are back together, so we're hardly going to make a great escape," grumbled Sandra as she stood beside the barbecue, hands folded over her chest as she followed the man's eyes over the scenery. It would be lovely, perfect even, if this was a normal environment. She was faking it pretty well, pretending to have forgiven Alexander... but she had fully intended on lulling him into some false sense of security, then taking his keys in the night and driving the hell out of there. However, that looked incredibly slim now Timothy and Alexander were flirting up a storm. She didn't want to be mean to Randolph, not when he'd been pretty nice, but... well, he helped Alexander clean up murder scenes and seemed indifferent to the man's behaviour. Sandra, once reminding herself of that, had no qualms about being mean.
 
"Nah, I dunno. I haven't seen Alex in months, I think this'll be like a little vacation, you know?" He replied casually, while closing his eyes and embracing the pleasant breeze. "Yeah, I may not need to be here, but neither do you, right? You're not his boyfriend, but you're still going to stay here anyway. You have a chance to leave, especially if he's distracted by that Timmy kid, so why don't you?" He asked, while peaking a curious eye at the other. He was no idiot, and he knew she wouldn't just leave, so why not enjoy it?
 
"It's very obvious why I can't leave, isn't it? Or are you that dense that everything's so perfect in your world? Of course it is. Typical rich boy. Everything's fine and dandy for you and your fucking murdering little friend over there. I can't leave Timmy. I won't leave him. Alexander's my friend-- but I don't trust him alone with Timmy anymore," she mumbled, keeping her eyes locked on the nearby couple to emphasise just how nervous and wary she was becoming. Alexander was gushing over his boyfriend, being very affectionate to the point of it being sexual, but despite that, Sandra thought it perfectly possible for him to also throttle Timmy until he ran out of air.
 
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"Yeah, Alex can be a bit clingy and controlling, but he'd only ever hurt someone he cared about unless that person did something stupid... For example, what you two did. It's not like he has a gun to your head and threatening to blow your brains out, is he? Besides, Alex told me how the guy is a cop. If he's really a cop, I'm sure your friend can somehow get out of this all. Just... Seriously, why are you so worried? Sure, I'm well-off, but I know when to enjoy a good opportunity when it rises. I also know Alex way better than you do, so I'd trust me when I say that you'll be fine if you don't do anything too rash," the man stated simply, before taking a bite of the burger he had sat besides him.
 
"Just because you've known he was a murderer doesn't mean you know him better than me. I've been his closest friend for years-- you know, you can have the title of being his best friend if you want. I don't want to be friends with a murdering psychopath, thank you very much. The fact you do is worrying, so god, I don't want to be friends with you either. Alexander clearly can't know me well enough if he thinks we're a potential couple. You're not even my type. You're the stereotypical posh guy who thinks he's God's gift," she insulted rather cuttingly, which was uncharacteristic, but finding out your best friend was a murderer and then seeing your other best friend fall for him again was bound to bring out the worst in you.
 
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"That's fine. Alex thinks he's some matchmaker genius, but not a single relationship he ever set me up with has been wrong. For example, you're far from my type as well. How old are you? You dress like a twelve year old from the 90's. I prefer women, not some childish girl. Secondly, you clearly don't like to relax. I like women who can enjoy the moments like this." He explained quietly, all the while his tone held just the right amount of sharpness.

"And for the whole 'best friend title', you clearly didn't know enough about him to call yourself his best friend. I've known his weird thing for months now. He's always been a strange kid, ever since elementary school. So have I. May I remind you that I've known him nearly all of our lives?"
 
"There is absolutely nothing wrong with what I wear, and the fact you judge me on that is pathetic and low, really," she snapped back, letting her emotions rule her, instead of taking a step back and realising how useless it was arguing with him. She couldn't really help herself, though. She had been constantly gossiped about because of her style in the office, and it was why she hadn't made friends until Timothy arrived. For a stranger to make fun of her for it didn't settle particularly well.

"You clearly can't be his friend, either. He never even mentioned you to me. What a best friend you are, hm?" She laughed under her breath, while subtly fiddling with the sleeves of her baby pink hoodie in slight embarrassment. She had never felt embarrassed by her clothes until now, and she hated herself for letting this stranger get to her in this way.
 
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"I've never mentioned being friends with Alex, either. At least, I'm not strutting around telling the world. We made a decision that we wouldn't mooch off of one another's successes, you know? Besides, I like my privacy. There's a reason my face isn't plastered all over my business. My job isn't based on looks, like Alex's, so I'd rather slip into the background most of the time." He admitted.

"Look, this is really petty. How about you go relax? Clearly you're stressed, and I don't want my mini-vacation to be ruined by it." He insisted, before sitting up a tad to glance over at the overly affectionate scene between the two men. "If you're not going to, I am."
 
"Are you having a fucking laugh? Mini-vacation?! A fucking serial killer almost killed me and my best friend and drove us out here. This isn't a vacation, it's kidnap. The only reason I'm not running right now is he, your psycho childhood chum, has threatened to blow my brains out if I try to leave. That's an incentive to stay put," spat Sandra in response, feeling more and more sick the more she peered over at Alexander and Timothy to see them all cuddled up and flirtatious. She knew Alex was practically crazy; that he didn't realise that murder was such a bad thing, but to see Timothy act like that with him? It sickened her to the core. If Alex was her boyfriend, she'd have told him straight that she wanted nothing to do with him. She wouldn't cuddle up close and try to understand his behaviour like some goddamn therapist.
 
"You're only making my suggestion a good idea. You're stuck here, whether you want it or not. You can either enjoy the time, take in the mountains and rolling hills, or you can be on edge and just make Alex more anxious. Your friend had the right idea, playing it cool. I know Alex, and I know that he ain't a big fan of bad vibes," Randy replied flatly, his monotone response the only real sign of his growing annoyance.

Alex was always the one who went too far, and Randy was the one who often had to bring him back. Because of this, that attitude had carried on into adulthood. He made it to the top not by being abrasive, he went the relaxed route, making friends with higher-ups until he was at the very top. After a good moment of silence, the man let a slow smile slide onto his face, and a soft chuckle escape his lips.
 
"I think you're just as mad as he is, and I'm not gonna stick around. I'll find a way to leave, I'll get the cops, and you'll be imprisoned for hiding information on a wanted killer. How about that? I may dress like a "12 year old girl", but I'm not going to act like and sit down, ignoring all this bullshit--"

"Is she giving you a hard time? D'aw, did you try asking her out and she turned you down like most girls do? Sucks to be you sometimes, doesn't it, Rand?" teased Alexander, the designer having wandered over at the commotion and, as he quietly wrapped the towel around his neck ready to go swimming, he did cast his eye on a now silent, clearly nervous Sandra. "...You don't have to stay. You can go in the house and take a nap and be a fucking bore, sure. I thought she was more fun than this, Rand, sorry. I mean, she's never been the life and soul of the party, I should have known she wasn't going to change that."
 
"S'No big deal," the man replied, with his sunglasses still on and his body limp in true relaxation. With a heavy groan, though, he did get to his feet and cracked his muscles wth a pleasant snap.

"How's you and your boy-toy, then? He looks all proper and dandy, did you put something in his drink?" He asked, only half of him was joking. "Or was it just that classic charm of yours~?"
 
"What on earth are you suggesting Randolph, old buddy? Of course it's my natural charm. He's been my boyfriend for weeks, it's not like we're this casual thing. We're really serious. He forgave me on the basis I stop... what I'm doing, which I can. I can stop it easily enough. I have talent, I don't necessarily need to continue killing off the competition-- I've killed most of them off already, so there's no need worrying," he laughed boldly, perfectly comfortable talking about his self-named 'hobby' in front of everyone. He'd always been open about it with his closest friend, and now Sandra and Timothy were aware, why bother keeping quiet? If the conversation revolved around it, he wasn't going to censor himself - it was their fault if they couldn't handle the truth.

"...I tease her, but she really isn't that bad," he quietly admitted as he watched a new grumpy Sandra trudge to fetch a glass of wine in her typically eccentric outfit. "You'd get on well if she wasn't stressed out, I promise."
 
"You're real desperate I hook up with a girl, aren't you?" He cooed, while reluctantly sitting up in the chair. He'd rather sit and enjoy the sunset with a nice bottle of beer, but he couldn't hide his growing annoyance at Sandra storming off. Not fact, he couldn't hide his twitched frown either. So, while he lit up another cigarette, he glanced at the still visibly flustered Tim as he shyly grabbed a burger to take a bite.

"I bet you want me to shoo off, now that you're all peachy with your arm candy. I don't know what you plan to do with the girl, though. Ain't my problem, though, huh?" He teased. Taking in a deep puff, he watched Alexander's response closely.
 
"You're my oldest friend, I want you to settle down and stop dating all those awful bimbos who are only after your cash, Randolph. That's all. Sandra's one of my closest friends, and I did genuinely think she was your type. She likes corny comedy sitcoms and she's down to earth, not at all like those other girls-- but you can understand her hostility. I almost killed her, accidentally of course, and she's stressed out. Once she comes around like Tim, you'll see that she's a real sweet girl. I don't plan on hurting her, she actually means a lot to me."

Stirring his straw around his glass absently, he did roll his eyes at the mention of Randolph leaving. "No way, you stay where you are. You know I'm not embarrassed. I'll happily sit back and make out with Timmy, but I won't - I'm not that selfish that I'd make you feel like a third wheel-- and I will find you the right girl. I see a tonne of models every day, but they're all prissy and not your type."
 
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"I just gotta focus on my inventions, you know? I've got a good plan for something new in the works. Besides, most women are pretty obnoxious, anyway. One-nighters seem to be working out just fine," the man drawled, while hugging back his beer casually. "I know you call me a hermit or whatever, but hey, opposites attract. You're some big celebrity hot-shot, and I'm some loser out in the middle of nowhere." He stated, unfazed though.

As he spoke, Timmy had followed Sandra into the house, immediately going to the kitchen to vomit once again into the trash, due to a combination of guilt and a still, very much upset stomach. Once wiping away the sick, he looked to Sandra with a heavy frown. "God, I... I'm sorry. Just - he knows how to push my buttons. I need a shower pronto, I feel disgusting."
 
Having sat herself down at the table with a sandwich to soak up the alcohol (even though she continued to sip at her wine), the woman gave no answer to her best friend, nor even a glance in his direction, knowing full well that she would just snap at him... or get incredibly angry and end up saying a lot she didn't want to say. In the end, after registering that anger and forcing it down a little, she glanced over at him with a faint, nonchalant shrug, determined not to feel an ounce of sympathy or concern for him.

"I'm disgusted with you, so you're not alone on that. How... How are you such an idiot, seriously? He's a murderer, he's... he's killed people. And you're just going to sit up on him, cuddling into him and making out?! F-Fucking hell-- I can't do this, okay? I'm going to find his car keys when he's asleep, go to the city and tell the police about all of this."
 
"I am the police," he reminded, while absently tapping his fingers against the table whilst keeping his head pressed against the marble. That being said, the fact only made him feel worse. He was a police officer, someone who was supposed to lock up and put people like Alexander to death, yet here he was, still head-over-heels. Granted, it could definitely be blamed on his concussion. Clearing his throat, he wiped away his tears and looked away from her in shame.

"... How are you going to do it? I don't have my gun on me, and Alexander is larger than both of us. I wasn't even supposed to get involved, my station only did it because they knew I was gay. How fucked up is that? I did paperwork and helped in some blockades when things got bad, yet here I am, a black eye while my serial killer boyfriend looks over us? I was going to bring him home to meet my dad, for fuck's sake. I'll be fired on the spot, too, probably."
 
"Does it matter how I'm going to do it? You're not coming with me. You've made yourself crystal clear. You'd much rather have a boyfriend than do the right, moral thing-- the fact you're a cop is astounding, given just how mentally weak you are. He deserves to rot behind bars, and you're snuggling up against him? L-Like-- you were the strongest person I knew before this, and now you've gone so far down in my estimations. I... come with me, tonight. We can go to the city again, you can tell the police everything and save your job and be a hero, but more importantly, we'll get him behind bars. Him and his mate, okay? Alexander was my best friend for years, but I'd rather him go to jail and get justice for everyone he's killed, wouldn't you?"

Eventually, though, she just scoffed under her breath and turned away from her friend, figuring that she was appealing to deaf ears. He'd made himself perfectly clear that he was in love with Alexander, and that meant more than getting proper justice. It was disgusting, incredibly disappointing really... but she wasn't as surprised as she really thought she would be.

"...I'm going and if you don't, you'll get arrested too. I don't care at this point. I just want to do the right thing."
 
"That's why I like you, y'know? You're so confident and... I'll come with you. We'll probably both be killed if this doesn't work, you realize that, right? Or, maybe chained to a wall. I've interviewed serial killers before, for paperwork, and... I mean, I dunno. I'd hope he wouldn't do that." He replied, before getting to his feet. "I need a good, solid drink, though. I can't be doing this sober, I-I'd rather kill myself before I did this sober."

That being said, the cop dragged himself to the kitchen once again. If he could drink two bottles of wine in a night, he could go through a bottle of vodka just as fast. He wasn't never a big drinker, but it was understandable to want to be as little conscious as possible when you were going to run away from your boyfriend and send him to jail, most likely having to do the forms and paperwork to get him sent to prison. He knew being a cop would have weird circumstances, but this was a bit ridiculous.
 
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