A Promise To The Future
Tyrell stared at the chickpea bruschetta on the table, trying not to smile. The reason why he was smiling seemed inappropriate at the time, which is why he tried to stop, but he couldn't help himself. He was so giddy at the fact that he had kissed Elliot. Though he imagined their first kiss would be under different circumstances --he always thought it would be a little more romantic and involve less clothes-- he still enjoyed it. He now had an idea that didn't need to be left up to his own imagination anymore. He knew how Elliot felt underneath his grasp, the overwhelming sense of dominance that washed over him was almost orgasmic. He knew how Elliot tasted, like everything he wanted and more and then some. He felt like he was on top of the world, that nothing could make his night better (or worse), until he remembered the reason why the kiss happened.
Naturally, the euphoric feeling of accomplishment had blinded him of what was the true concern, Elliot's mental state, but it wasn't like he didn't care. It's not like Tyrell was profiting off of his panic attack to take advantage of Elliot; that was never the case. He just didn't know what to do in that particular situation and that was the only logical solution to the present problem. Despite his prominent lust for him, Tyrell cared for Elliot. He was beginning to realize that he was thinking of Elliot as more than a potential lover, which was a little unsettling to say the least. He wasn't sure if his feelings would intensify or diminish by the time they inevitably had sex. Either way, Elliot would have to at least leave the restaurant's bathroom for any of his plans to be accomplished. Tyrell grabbed a piece of the bruschetta, biting into it.
Elliot threw up into the toilet, clutching his stomach and collapsing on the bathroom floor. Things were spiraling out of control and he couldn't handle it. His high had worn off at this point and he felt like shit. Another panic attack wasn't happening but he felt like it was a better alternative than what was happening now. Tyrell's attempt at calming him down had only worked for a few minutes before he was back to his same anxiety ridden self. The kiss and his feelings during had only brought unnecessary concern, resulting in the uneasy thoughts and his body reacting violently. I have to find a way out of here, Elliot thought desperately. I have to find a way out of this shit show. There weren't any windows in the bathroom so, the only way out was through the front door with Tyrell. He reached for the toiler again, further emptying the contents of his stomach. "Shit," Elliot said, flushing the toilet and getting up from his awkward position on the ground.
Walking across the room, Elliot attempted to rinse his mouth out with intentions of cleaning himself up. Making sure he didn't look like total shit, he popped a mint in his mouth and left the bathroom. There was no way he could spend another minute in this confined restaurant under the watchful eye of the men in black and Tyrell Wellick's awkward exchanges. He sat down in his respective seat, across from Tyrell, who seemed to be enjoying himself aside from their major setback. He didn't know how to explain his situation to Tyrell without being awkward or providing too much background information. The only people who had ever seen him like that were his mom and his sister and they weren't the nicest people about it. Truth be told, Elliot was scared and was out of ideas.
"Elliot, are you feeling better?" Tyrell asked, seeing the expression troubled expression on his face. "I know my solution was the, uh, best but I read in a book once that when people have anxiety attacks that you should try your best to distract and keep them calm. Kissing you seemed like the best option at the time. I'm sorry if I over stepped any boundaries." The last statement was half true but he was genuinely concerned and worried.
Elliot didn't make any eye contact. He almost didn't hear him because of everything going on in his head. "No," he said, barely above a whisper.
Tyrell reached his hand out to touch Elliot's. "Even though I barely know you and you barely know, I care about you, Elliot. If there's something bothering you just let me know and I can fix it. If you want us to leave then I can call the waitress over here and we can go. I care more about your well being and mental health. Your safety is more important to me than this bruschetta or risotto or any other of these fucking Italian dishes in here. You matter."
Elliot looked at Tyrell's delicate touch then into his eyes. He couldn't tell if this was his genuine emotion or a clever ruse behind his lifeless eyes but he was going to take this as his way out. It didn't matter if it sounded like an odd declaration of love or not. He removed his hand from the table, letting Tyrell's drop down. "Leaving would definitely be better for me but don't think that this means we're cool or anything."
Tyrell smiled a little. "On the contrary, Elliot. As of right now, I consider myself as your friend, and as a friend I promise to always look out for your best interest."
He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Don't sound like you're proposing, Wellick."
"A promise is a promise, Elliot, and I intend to keep it. By the way, I ordered our food. I didn't know how long you would be in the bathroom and I thought you might want it by now. When the waitress gets here I'll ask for a doggy dag."
-
Tyrell closed his bedroom door, opening the closet door to dig out Elliot's hoodie. Deeply inhaling the fabric, he thought back to earlier that night. The limited amount of time that they were close together felt like electricity running through his body. It still smells like him. The only thoughts running through his head were those of a sexual nature. He wanted to dominate Elliot; making him get on his knees and beg for it. But at the same time, he couldn't help but remember how he felt outside of his hunger for his future lover. Tyrell was conflicted, not knowing how he truly. What if in the end he actually loved him. He laughed, moving towards the bathroom. The only thing that he loved was power and giving himself an advantage. Elliot couldn't help him with that; besides, if anything, he would be a distraction to his goals and grand plan. But wasn't he already?
Elliot collapsed on his bed, wishing the day would just end. His easy-going and average day had turned into a shit show in a matter of hours. He couldn't understand what was going or what was happening to him but he could tell he didn't like it. He thought that coming to this university would change things for him. He would stop his addiction, stop worrying about mysterious men watching over him, and finally live a normal cookie cutter life. That dream had only seemed to last one day. Things just seemed to get worse and worse for him no matter what he did. Whether it was because of Tyrell or not, he knew he couldn't take it for much longer. "Fuck it," he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket, dialing a number.
"Hello." a woman's voice said on the next line.
"Shayla, I have a favor to ask. Can you keep a secret?"