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Tavir checked his pockets again for spare tapes, nervousness sweeping over him. He glanced around the familiar parking lot as he waited for Mitch to gather his equipment. <Same as it ever was. Too familiar. I wish he'd moved as well.> He was not looking forward to seeing the inside of the apartment. He hoped it'd changed radically.

"Okay, I'm ready." Mitch clapped him on the back. "C'mon, time to get this done. I'm sure you'll do great, Tav."

"I hope so." He was glad Mitch was there, even just to take photographs. He didn't want to do this alone. But he couldn't explain to Mitch that his nervousness had nothing to do with doing his first interview.

Reyn answered their knock promptly, and Tavir gulped at the sight of him. He wore tight black leather pants and a green silk shirt, looking somehow casual and professional at the same time, and his long hair, so often bound or braided, instead hung loose over his shoulders. <Because he knows I like it that way?>

"I'm Mitch, the photographer, and this is Tavir, your interviewer." Mitch's voice intruded upon his thoughts as Mitch's elbow dug into his ribs, and he attempted a smile.

"Hi," was the best he could managed for now. Reyn's green eyes flickered gold at him, seemingly laughing.

"Please, come in." A small polite smile crossed Reyn's face as he stepped aside to let them in. Tavir let Mitch go first, and gulped again as he entered the apartment. Nothing had changed; nothing at all, save that his things were no longer there. It was like stepping back in time, and he almost expected Reyn's arms to wrap around him, Reyn's sultry voice to whisper "welcome home" in his ear as lips nibbled upon his neck.. He blinked a few times, trying to cast his memories aside.

"Please sit down." Reyn's voice held that hint of amusement again, something he'd grown to hate. But they were both already seated -- Reyn lounging carelessly in a large chair across from Mitch, who took up half of the sofa -- and he hastened to join them, silently cursing himself. <Get a grip, Tavir. Remember what Shurik said. He can't break you anymore.> He tried to let Shurik's words reassure him as he pulled out the tape recorder he'd been given, and concentrated on getting it set up.

"Do you mind if I smoke?" Mitch asked, and Tavir winced, glancing up at Reyn, already knowing the answer.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't, thank you." Reyn's voice was cool. He'd always hated smoking, scornful to degrees that surprised Tavir.

"No worries," Mitch said easily, reaching for his gum instead. Tavir fumbled with the tape recorder. <Am I ready for this? Will I ever be truly read for this?>

"Shall we, ah, get started?" he asked cautiously, pressing the record button and hoping he'd gotten the tape in the right way. Reyn favoured him with a smile, one of those all-too-knowing smiles that made him want to cower.

"Fine with me." Reyn's eyes never left him, and he lowered his gaze, fidgeting with his list of questions.

"What, ah, position will you be playing with the Stalkers this season?" He grabbed for the first question, the one that everyone had been wondering about.

"Forward."

"Really? Even though you're so new? And so young?" He managed to quip that question successfully, though he wasn't really surprised. Reyn belonged at the front when it came to hockey.

"I can't play anything else." Reyn's words confirmed his thoughts. "I'm too aggressive as a player to hang back." Tavir nodded, glancing at Mitch, who grinned at him and went on chewing his gum. <Alright. Maybe that means I'm doing okay so far.>

"How long have you been with the Stalkers?"

"Since the end of last season. The manager approached me after the finals of our amateur league, and asked me if I'd like to play pro." He shrugged, smirking. "How could I refuse?"

"Did you have any qualms about leaving your old team?" He wished fervently that that question wasn't on the list. But he'd had to ask it, and he stared at the paper in his hands, not wanting to see -- or hear, for that matter -- what Reyn thought of his old team. <Our old team.>

"Not really." Reyn sounded amused again. <Damn him.> "We'd lost the only other good players under me. It wouldn't have been fun anymore." Tavir winced, glancing up. Reyn's mocking eyes rested on him.

"Lost them?" Mitch asked curiously, and Tavir lowered his head again. <Don't push him about that, Mitch, of all things..>

"Yes. Our next best player succumbed to a minor leg injury." Reyn spoke smoothly. <Minor? Minor!? I'm still limping and he calls it minor?> "And our other good player, who was his best friend, dropped out as well because of it." Tavir's head snapped up. <Wha..? Shurik..?> Reyn smirked at him. It slowly dawned on him that it was indeed almost hockey season, and the teams had all started practicing.. but Shurik had not. <Shurik dropped out because of me? But.. how come Reyn knows that and I don't?>

"Shame, that." Mitch was elbowing him again. <Shit. Damn you, Reyn.> He pushed aside thoughts of Shurik, although his mind was screaming to know why, and tried to find the next question.

"Err.. how are you finding you fit in with this team, as opposed to your old one?" He stumbled over the words. <Why are we asking so many questions about his old team? Why didn't I notice that and try to get them changed?>

"Oh, I fit in well enough. A few friends here and there. But I'm there to play hockey, after all, not socialize." Reyn shifted slightly in his chair, easing into a more comfortable position. <What a typical Reyn answer. Doesn't he care about anyone?> But he was pretty sure he knew the answer to that.

He opened his mouth to ask the next question, but the sound of a key in the door distracted him. <Someone else lives here now..?> He registered the faint frown that marred Reyn's brow as he turned his attention to the door. <So subtly he shows his emotions..> For Reyn to be physically frowning like that, it meant he was very annoyed. <I still know him so well..>

The door swung open, and he gaped as a woman stepped through, bumping it shut again with her hip. Surprise crossed her face as she spied them all. And a beautiful face it was too, he noticed. <Would Reyn have anything or anyone that was less than beautiful?> Stark, dramatic chin and cheekbones, slanted, warm brown eyes, and a shock of short bleached blonde hair that spiked up and away from her face. Her whole body was thin and graceful, narrow to the point of waifishness. She wore all black, including a large leather jacket adorned with studs. Yet despite her hair and studded leather, she somehow managed to look elegant.

"Oh, that was today!" She said, laughing softly, her voice seeming elegant as well. She crossed the room to stand behind Reyn's chair, and leaned over it to kiss him on the cheek. "Sorry, it slipped my mind."

"I did ask you not to be here this afternoon, Anna." Reyn's voice was frosty; he didn't even bother to look at her.

"Fuck you, Reyn." Anna's cheerful tone belied her words, and she winked at Tavir, her expression friendly, before ducking into the kitchen, door closing smoothly behind her.

"You'll have to.. excuse Anna. She's somewhat lacking in manners at times." Reyn glanced towards to kitchen, still frowning ever so slightly. "But she makes up for it by being an extremely good cook." Tavir found himself tensing at that. <Why? Who cares? It's not your kitchen anymore, why should you care if she cooks for him?> Reyn's eyes were on him again, and the frown was replaced by a smirk. He sighed, trying to calm his churning insides. <Damnit. What's the next question?>

Anna pulled open the fridge, examining the contents. <Good looking boy, that. Is that why Reyn didn't want me here? He's chasing some kid?> She snickered quietly, pulling out the celery and letting the door fall shut again. <Can't deny his taste, I guess, but really. He could be more subtle.> She reached for a knife and started chopping the vegetables neatly. <He even wore those pants I bought him. Too bad he wouldn't wear them for me, huh?> She shook her head, smirking. <Asshole. He sure looks good in them, though. I could get inspired by him looking like that..> She began humming softly, only half her attention on the celery in front of her.

"Lust-spilling eyes, of green and gold.. a smoothfit mask to hide, so cold.." she sang slowly, making words up on the spot, and then stopped. <Ha. You were supposed to be inspired by his looks, not his lack of emotions.> "Guess that one won't be on the next Dark Days playlist," she laughed to herself, and turned her attention to the food she was making. Her music could come later, when she was done cooking.

<Cold, cold. He'll be successful as hell, but everyone'll hate him.> Tavir flipped the tape over and pressed record again. He absently noticed his trembling hands. <Almost done. We're almost done.> He didn't know how much longer he could deal with this. Reyn's amused voice. Reyn's unsettling gaze that never seemed to leave him. Reyn's double-edged words that somehow cut him to shreds inside, even as they answered the questions he asked. <It's not just what he says, it's how he says it. It's how he looks at me while he says it.> He shook his questions list. <Only two more to go.>

"You'll have to excuse me a sec; I really need a smoke." Mitch grinned apologetically at them both as he rose from his seat. "Don't stop on my account, though." He headed for the door, giving Tavir a quick thumbs up. <No! Don't leave me alone with him!> But Mitch vanished out the door, pulling it almost shut behind him.

Silence. He glanced towards the kitchen, but the door was still shut. No help from there. He could feel Reyn's gaze, touching him like something physical, and he dared not meet it. The silence drew out, long and empty, until he ached to speak, just to be rid of it. Then Reyn spoke instead, and he wished for the silence after all.

"It's been awhile, Tavir." Reyn's voice was soft, intimate, the kind of voice he used in bed. Tavir closed his eyes against the memories that brought about.

He heard Reyn moving, and opened his eyes again, in time to find Reyn's face scant inches from his. He opened his mouth to protest, just as Reyn's lips pressed against his, that old faint mint taste to them, fond and familiar. For a split second his body responded to that kiss, and then he was pushing Reyn away from him, violently, kicking with his legs as well.

"You bastard!" he swore. Reyn's smirk was satisfied now, and Tavir knew that Reyn had felt that second of response as well, and he suddenly hated himself for it, hated his body for betraying him like that.

"You know what you want, Tavir." Reyn was sitting where Mitch had sat, and he stretched his long legs out in front of him, seeming as relaxed as he had for the rest of the interview. <Why is he so distant from everything, even this? And why does he keep doing this to me? He's so cold; this is just a game to him.> "You just have to admit it."

"To you? Never." He spat the words, angry at Reyn and at himself. Reyn raised his eyebrows, a slight sardonic grin touching his lips, and then those long elegant fingers were reaching forward, unbuttoning the first button on his shirt before he'd quite realized what was happening. He flinched, sliding away, but Reyn closed the gap between them again, and now he was at the end of the sofa, pushed up against the armrest. Those fingers tugged another button undone, pressing against his chest, and he pushed angrily at Reyn's hands, his skin seeming to burn where he'd been touched. "Leave me alone!" he whispered viciously. His body felt wired from Reyn's touch, yearning for it again, and he wanted to scream at it, at its simple betrayal of his mind and everything that mattered and made sense to him. Reyn's grin widened, as if he knew what was going on in Tavir's mind.

"You see? You crave me; you need me. You know it, or at least, your body knows it. It's only a matter of time before you realize it yourself, and then you'll come back to me. You'll want me the way you had me before." Reyn sounded so sure of himself, and Tavir burned with hatred. He wanted to lash out, to hurt Reyn the way Reyn was hurting him, but he didn't know how; he didn't know what to say that would make Reyn feel the kind of pain and self-loathing he felt right now.

Reyn seemed about to say more, but his eyes flicked suddenly to the door leading outside, and in one smooth movement, he was back in his original seat, as relaxed as if nothing had happened.

Tavir heard the door creak as Mitch returned, and he flushed, feeling as though he'd done something wrong. <This is an interview, not a soap opera of your life.> He grabbed for his question list, which had fallen on the floor, wishing he could rebutton his shirt without looking obvious or guilty about it. <Damn you, Reyn!>

"What, you finished already?" Mitch seemed surprised at the silence that greeted him, and Tavir's grip on the question sheet tightened.

"No, not.. not quite," he muttered, daring to glare at Reyn. Reyn merely shrugged his shoulders ever so slightly.

"Don't worry, he's perfectly charming company," Reyn assured Mitch, his confident, laughing eyes meeting Tavir's glare, and it was Tavir who dropped his gaze first.

Puck whined, and Shurik stopped his pacing and knelt to scratch the dog behind the ears.

"I know, Puck, I wish I knew where he was too," he said, more to himself than to the dog. It was late, and had long been dark outside. No matter how long the interview might have dragged itself out, Tavir should still have been home several hours ago. <Where can he be?> Reyn couldn't have done anything too bad, not with that photographer there. And surely Tavir wouldn't have stayed any longer than he had to. He wondered if he should call someone. <Oh, yeah. Who're you going to call? The office? Reyn?> He half laughed, a bitter sound that startled Puck.

The sudden click of a key in the lock brought him to his feet, as Puck bounded towards the opening door. Tavir slammed it shut behind him, giving Puck a half hearted pat as he tugged off his jacket and dropped it next to the door. Shurik took a tentative step towards him.

"... how'd it go?" he ventured, unsure. Tavir's eyes raised to meet his, eyes that were tired, angry, hurting and hating.

"How do you think it went?" Tavir's bitter words lashed at him, and then Tavir was storming past him, vanishing into his bedroom, the door slamming shut. Shurik stared at the closed door. <That's the first time he's even used that room since that night, when we first moved here..>

He moved towards the door, then stopped. <What should I do? Does he really want to be alone? Will he push me away if I go in there? Or does he need me right now, and he's just hurting too much to admit it? Who is he angry at.. Reyn, me, or himself?> Indecision tore at him, and he stood helpless in the middle of the lounge room, gaze locked on the closed bedroom door.

Tavir pressed his face against the pillow as he heard the door open just slightly.

"Tavir?" Shurik's voice was hesitant. Tavir sighed into the pillow, wiping his tears on it. He wasn't angry at Shurik. He was angry at Reyn, and at himself. <Oh, how I hate hate hate..> It just went on and on in his head. What did he hate? Everyone and everything that was happening around him, it seemed. Reyn, for knowing how to get the better of him. Himself, for letting Reyn get the better of him. His stupid, stupid body that still lusted after Reyn, despite all the vile things he'd done to them. Mitch, for leaving them alone. His boss, for sending him there in the first place.

"Tav..? I can.. go away, if you want." But not Shurik. Shurik was the only thing that truly mattered amidst the fog of pain and hate in his life.

"No..." His voice croaked over the word, and he cleared his throat. "No.. don't go, Shur." Maybe, if he just held onto Shurik for awhile..

Shurik pushed the door open all the way, coming into the room. He felt the bed dip next to him as Shurik sat down, and then gentle fingers soothed his neck and shoulders.

"Shurik.." he rolled onto his side and reached for him, burying his head in his lap and wrapping his arms around his waist. Shurik smoothed his hair away from his face, and then stroked his brow gently.

"What happened, Tavir?" he asked gently. Tavir cringed away from the question. <It doesn't matter, it's gone, let me forget..> But words bubbled to his lips all the same.

"He was so cold, so calculating. He called my injury minor, and then.." he trailed off, remembering what Reyn had said about Shurik. He was desperate to know why, but the words wouldn't come to him. <Not now, not yet.>

"What else?" Shurik's words prodded him gently.

"I.. he twisted everything, all his words.. damnit, they hurt so much, and he was just answering the questions.. and he has a new lover, a girl, she was there.. and the way he treated her, just as cold as.." his voice softened to a whisper. "Mitch.." he tried to find the words to say it, but they wouldn't come. Finally, he reached for the tape recorder still bulging in his pocket, and pulled it out. He pressed play; he knew it was at the right place. He'd listened to it, over and over, while he sat hidden beneath the dark, overhanging trees in the park. Now, Reyn's words spilled into the tense silence between him and Shurik.

"You know what you want, Tavir. You just have to admit it." Even now the words made him cringe, but he let it play on. His angry rebuttals, and then Reyn's little speech. "You see? You crave me; you need me. You know it, or at least, your body knows it. It's only a matter of time before you realize it yourself, and then you'll come back to me. You'll want me the way you had me before." Finally he pressed stop.

"What happened?" Shurik asked again, voice still quiet, but this time pain threaded it. Pain for him? Pain because of him? He took a shaky breath.

"Mitch left us alone to go have a cigarette, and he kissed me, Shurik." A tear trickled down his cheek. "And for a second.. I liked it." It hurt to admit it, but he couldn't lie to Shurik. "And I hate myself for it. And I hate him, Shur. So much." He clung tighter to Shurik, as if he could squeeze his pain away somehow.

"It's okay, Tavir." Shurik's voice was soothing, and his fingers wiped away Tavir's tears. "It's not your fault. You always lusted for Reyn, before you knew what he was really like, didn't you?" Shurik's fingers entangled themselves in his hair again. "Don't hate yourself for what you can't help." Shurik was whispering now, too. He looked up. A tear spilled down Shurik's face as well, slowly tracing its way to his lips, and Tavir closed his eyes. <Oh, I hate hate hate..>

"Shurik, just.. hold me?" he whispered brokenly, curling himself around Shurik.

"Alright." Shurik's voice tickled his ear, as his arms pressed him even closer.