Kit did not have a clear explanation as to why specifically, but he did find Chase cool and chilled out. He did not appear that problematic and seemed to be loyal. He would have been a perfect member of the âgangâ as people called it.
Nine years had passed since Kitâs double life had fallen into pieces. Although, he could now realise the deep shit he had dug himself into, part of him missed it. He missed the thrill, the passion, the adrenaline. He missed knowing that there was always someone having his back. A born, brave and beloved leader, Kit was the perfect fit for the club, if it was not for his double life. Role model and a criminal with comlpete lack of remorse sadly did not go well together. His brother had turned out to be just like him and that was all Kitâs fault. His parents put him on piedestal without having any clue who he really was. They had no idea that he would get up from the dinner table and go beat and slice people up and enjoy it on top of that. That was in fact the worst part. He could not use shitty upbringing as an excuse for what he did. It was just his nature, which he was trying hard to cover up eversince he began the disciplinary program. Nevertheless, he knew that once a criminal, he will always stay a criminal and unfortunately he made his little brother also become one.Â
Perhaps the main reason why Kit liked Chase was because he also seemed like a boy who got mixed up in the wrong lifestyle for one reason or another. But it seemed like he could be trusted and that is what counted.
Kit gave a subtle nod to Chase. He was aware that smoking was way beyond the rules, but he was willing to close his eyes for people like him. People who would bring back the nostalgia feelings for the past, no matter how wrong that was. âTell you what, shall we move over thereâ he said pointing with his eyes to the secluded area, perfect for smoking as it was not visible from any of the entrances or windows. Fuck it he thought, the discipline in this place was so bad already that one smoke was not going to worsen it.Â
âLondon huh? Were you born there or? And how the hell you found yourself in Oregon?â he asked, curious about his life before coming to the states. âYou know, good friend of mine comes from Bradfordâ he stated, thinking about one of his best buddies from the past - James. Even after he had to leave the group, they continued to be friends and see each other rather rarely, but kept in touch.Â
After hearing the boy going on about not having an idea why he was there, Kit got it. Obviously he was not ready to talk about it, but that did not matter too much. So far they seemed to be in good terms, so knowing why he was there was rather meaningless. What was rather more important to Kit was that he got the resepct, which the boy seemed to be giving him. âRight..You coming?â he asked as he started walking towards the smoking area. All this thinking had made him to really crave a cigarette.
Chase was not unfamiliar with men from... complicated pasts. Dark worlds. Men who wore leather and ripped denim. Men who smelled like engine oil and musty hotels. Men with hair on their chest and scars on their knuckles. And though Chase had had his fair share of less-than-pleasant experiences where these men were involvedâheâd also had some eye opening ones. Some that were memorable for as many good things as they were for bad.Â
Before working with the agency, heâd been taken under the âwingâ of Raulâa man who, for all intents and purposes, was Chaseâs pimp. But no matter what other people said, what people called him, or how despicably he might have been seen, Chase had cared for the man, because the man had cared for him. Maybe... maybe not in the traditional way people might expect or desire. But heâd looked out for Chase. Heâd protected him, had his back. Given him a roof over his head, a number to call, a place to run to at night when he had nowhere else to go. Heâd kept Chase safe, and shown him opportunityâand for that, Chase had been grateful.Â
And itâd been his time working under the watch of Raul that heâd encountered the kinds of men whom he was now reminded of with Kit. Men who had edges and dark corners and knives tucked into their boots. Men with dirty hands and bruising gripsâbut Chase had found that though theyâd never been especially friendly... many of them had been more than met the eye. It usually came, after the sex, as Chase lied there on his stomach, watching hazily as his John fell asleep on his back. Or as heâd listened to the drunken ramblings of a client who couldnât have been there, laying with Chase, had he been sober. Confessions of wives or dead daughters. Confessions of crimes they regretted, or the ones they didnât. They were complicated. Dark, maybe. Dangerous, sure. But they were complicated, just like Chase. Had been hurt, just like Chase had been. And it was in that, that he found admiration. There was where he found respectâeven for the most intimidating of men. The ones with the iciest, thickest hides. There was always something more. And call him naive, but Chase liked that.Â
And later, when he was with the agency, heâd conclude that in many cases, those men had really not been any different than the ones with money. With fancy watches and expensive suits. Because as it would turn out. Money didnât automatically mean class.
âOh, I was born in Leeds, actually,â he replied easily, finding he liked the chatterâliked that the guard was taking interest enough to ask. It made him feel visible, and there was a comfort in that. âAnd how I ended up here... erm. Weird story I reckon,â he said with a gentle buckle in his delicate brow. âBut basically, my, uh, Doc. Works here and suggested I came here. Got me admitted, basically. And I met him, âcause, well.. he takes a lot oâ trips to the UK, see, and erm, sâpose he was takinâ on patients while he was there, too or somethinâ?â He shrugged. âDunno, really.âÂ
Talking extensively about the deal with how he got here was usually difficultâmostly because it involved a lot of lying, and so he was eager to change the subject. And the offer from the guard to join him in a smoke back outside was as good of an excuse as any. It was also one that made Chase grin. âYeah? Really? I mean, yeah, âcourse Iâm cominâ, sir. Ainât gonna say no to that.â And his grin, as they went back out the doors the way they came, was pleased, almost boyishly so, because the invitation felt like a slant of approval from an authority who ranked far above Chase, and Chase was plenty eager to get as much of that as he could.Â