Julius Caesar

The room was brightly lit and Julius was pacing across the stage in quick, wide strides, head bowed, bare-c.h.e.s.ted, in his pants. I watched, enjoying the fact that he was oblivious to my presence, consumed by his, apparently, urgent thoughts.

His hair was pointing downwards and his hands were clasped behind his back. His back.

I gasped as the door behind me was slammed shut by a guard. Julius froze and sharply turned a ninety-degree to face me. Before knowing it, he was on his knees, reaching for his jacket to dr.a.p.e it over his back.

His terribly scarred back.

I was still processing what could've been the reason behind those horrendous scars and how painful they probably were for him when he jumped off the stage. He walked toward me. And I walked toward him.

We met in the middle of the bas.e.m.e.nt space.

His face was a disturbing mixture of emotion, I realized, when he stood in front of me, examining me. His romantic, green eyes were cloudy with what could've been a thousand of question and exclamation marks. His face was otherwise as fierce and handsome as always and his head was tilted to the right. A bit. His hands were by his sides, clenched into fists.

Maybe, he was readying himself to fight and get angry.

Or maybe he was restraining himself from touching you- I thought shamelessly and immediately looked down at my indecency.

"You left-" He paused to gently clear his throat. "You left yesterday." His voice strengthened. "And there were tears in your eyes." He proceeded to speak softly as my heart beat fast at how his silky voice artistically teased the quietness that otherwise drenched us. "Are you okay now?"

His question was hesitant as if he was scared he'd be disclosing something that needed to stay suppressed. And I remember refusing to translate his tone because this wasn't why I was here. I needed to remember that I was here for some important questions.

"Yes." My whisper was brittle yet audible. "I'm better. Yes."

He breathed out, shutting his eyes momentarily, releasing the tension from his shoulders. "I was worried-" He looked down and furrowed his eyebrows. "-that you wouldn't come again."

My lips parted at the tautness in his voice and his white knuckles. He was clenching his fists too hard and I wondered if that was where my heart lied. Right in his clutch, getting crushed. Because there I was, trying to focus on asking the right questions, while all he did was stop me from breathing. Stop me by distracting me with his tone, his words, and oh, his scars.

"I made a deal." I shrugged simply, pursing my lips, the words flowing out absently, waking me up.

I had to focus, I reminded myself again. I had to ask him how to get his father here. I had to ask him why his father wouldn't come. I had to understand. Only then could I ask him about how he was, because those scars? They looked horrendously painful and I wanted nothing but to listen to the stories behind them, let my fingers trace them, and understand them.

He searched my face with unreadable eyes, then sighed, his hands flinching by his sides like he was hesitating to reach for something. For me. He clenched his jaws, subtly shook his head, and took a deep breath before a constrained ′Yes′ was forced out from the back of his throat.

'Yes', was all he said. And it disappointed me very much. So I inhaled deeply, irritated by my disappointment. Heavens, what did I expect him to do?

"I answered your question yesterday." I managed to say and wondered why were we so close and quiet? I mean, if I allowed myself to lean in, just a bit, my hair would tickle his c.h.e.s.t.

It was like none of us dared to disturb the odd peace that settled between us.

"Now, it's my turn," I muttered, glancing up at him to find him still studying me with a blank face. I took a deep breath, knowing that there were so many things going on beyond that insipid facade of his. Things about me that I wanted to know.

And despite knowing that I shouldn't care what he thought, I just couldn't. Not when we were that close. Not when he was staring at me this way. Like he wanted to steal me away and watch me all day. Not when I was a breath closer to him. A step. A sway.

He smiled faintly. "Yes. Of course. Ask your question."

"What's your father's weakness?" I blurted out the question and exhaled at the same time. My thoughts, I felt, were trying to kill me. They were keeping me out of breath.

His face remained stoic. "You want to lure him here?" He lifted an eyebrow and smirked. "You want to die?"

"Just answer my question, please." I closed my eyes wearily before opening them to his still expressionless face.

If I could only get closer and feel his thoughts, if I could place my ear next to his c.h.e.s.t and hear them beating and beating against their cage, beating their way out...

"You-" He scoffed, snapping me out of my thoughts. "You are planning to seduce a highly proficient, scheming murderer to your little den. Do you have any idea how ill-considered this is?" His voice was low yet demanding, and his eyes were wide and unyielding.

"Please," I pressed wearily, nonetheless. "I don't want your opinion. It doesn't matter to me."

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

"Well, it should." He grew subtly angry. "Because you're about to kick your own b.u.t.t.o.c.k.s and plummet down a very steep cliff."

I raised my eyebrows because he was, again, underestimating me. "I thought you were a man of your word," I retorted irritably. "You said you'd answer all my questions. In the name of 'friendship'."

He was shaking his head disapprovingly and frowning deeply. "And I also said, in the name of friendship, that I'd rather die than hurt you in any way. And you're asking me to drag a bloody knife through your c.h.e.s.t-"

And just like that, a switch flipped inside me.

"You've already dragged a knife through my c.h.e.s.t, Julius," I stated solidly, not thoroughly thinking it through. I just idiotically reopened closed chapters. "One can only die once." He faltered at my statement. "So tell me. Please."

"I do not know." He then resorted to nonchalance, releasing the tension in his shoulders. It was like he was constantly flipping from anger to menace to nonchalance. The three facades that he excelled at showing.

"Are you lying now?" I questioned tiredly, narrowing my eyes on him.

"I already told you-" He looked away with a frown. "And I'll tell you again. You keep overestimating the relationship I have with my father." He looked up at me. "There's nothing but business and blood between us."

I gaped at him. "What do you mean by ′business and blood'?"

He lifted his eyebrows at me and flexed his clenched fists. "That's another question."

"Answer it instead of the previous one!" I demanded impatiently and he smirked.

"I already answered the previous one." He licked his dry lips wet and locked my eyes. "This should make it my turn. Not yours."

"I'm not taking your 'I don't know' as an answer!" I mocked and he smiled bemusedly.

"Alright. Stalemate, then." He challenged. "Do you have any other game to offer? This 'friendship' game is getting rather mundane."

"Alright!" I raised my arms in frustration. "Let's play another game!"

He examined me closely and smiled deviously. "Let's add a little spice to it." He then bit in his lower lip before releasing it. "Let's play- let's play truth or dare, love."

We were both on the floor.

I was sitting, cross-legged with his heavy, leather jacket dr.a.p.ed over my l.a.p.s and my white heels next to me. He sat across me, also cross-legged, but bare-c.h.e.s.ted and bright-eyed. His black hair covered his forehead and a little of his left eye and his hands were clasped in his l.a.p.s. He was staring at me with great interest as I made no effort to hide my irritation.

I clenched my fists on top of his jacket that was repulsively touching my t.h.i.g.hs. Because that was the disadvantage of wearing a dress, and because- ′You have to stop being unpleasant. I'm merely being a gentleman. So please take my jacket and sit down'.

He was still staring at me with a faint smile when I cleared my throat. He caught my eyes immediately and tilted his head.

"Shall we?" I asked curtly.

He nodded slowly and arched his eyebrows. "Are you ready?" His deep voice came out as a husky whisper and I looked away with a sigh.

"Of course I am," I replied unwaveringly, stealing a glance at him. He was still smiling bemusedly.

Stupid smile.

"You're not scared?" He continued to ask and I fully turned my head to glare at him.

I was surprised to see genuine concern lighten up his features. And it surprised me to speechlessness. So instead I raised my eyebrows questioningly- as in 'why should I be'?

"Well, obviously," he started with a mischievous smile. "-this game will be a little...different-" He told me, looking down at his palms with a smile. "You're not playing it with your best friend," he raised an eyebrow. "You're not playing it with your lover," he raised the other eyebrow. "You're playing it with a potentially dangerous and strategy-loving murderer. Therefore, you should be scared."

"I am not," I retorted with a deep breath and a smile. Or- more of a dying smile because I was scared. I was impossibly terrified at the coldness of his voice, the tilt of his head, and the demons in his eyes.

"Okay." He smiled. "Let the game begin!"

I gulped and smiled back sarcastically, wishing I was good at hiding my emotions like he was. "Truth or dare?" And there it was, my voice cracking in fear and my heart beating outrageously in my c.h.e.s.t. I clutched the leather of his jacket in my hands.

He exhaled loudly and cleared his throat. "Okay. Let me give you what you want first." He was completely at ease, running a hand through his hair occasionally and smiling widely at something he found particularly amusing. Me. My evident fear. I bet I was an open book to him. And he was enjoying reading and re-reading every single line, not skipping a word. Devouring me whole in one glance.

"Truth." He finally breathed out with a smile.

"What did you mean-" I started, knowing it was unfair that he got to play first because he answered a question before. It was supposedly my turn. But him letting it slip must've been not coincidental. He's planning for something much worse, I thought. "What did you mean by what's between you and your father is nothing but blood and business?"

He shook his head with a playful smile. "Well, we share blood, because he's my biological father-" He was about to continue when he paused, raised an index finger and smiled lopsidedly. "Do I need to elaborate more on that point?" His smile turned to a smirk as he let his eyes trail down my length. I brought his jacket closer to me as lava slapped my insides and my face.

"No," I deadpanned. "Be decent."

He looked surprised at my insult as his smirk turned to a grin. "You are playing truth or dare with a man before a murderer," he breathed out. "It's tempting with a beautiful thing like you."

"Are you attempting to flirt?" I asked undeterred as butterflies in my stomach erupted at his words and the tone he managed to say them with.

"Was I?" He retracted his head a bit in 'surprise'. "I was saying the truth, wasn't I? Isn't this what this game is about? Truth or dare?"

I pursed my lips into a thin line, blushing out of my senses. I hated it that he could outrage my heart with one look and inflame my cheeks with one word. "Please. Continue."

His stare lingered on my face for a while before he smirked and continued. "My father has a company. And I help him...what to say?" He asked himself and looked away. "Ah. I help him keep things under control. Threaten a lot," he said callously, ticking things off a list of all his terrible deeds. "Murder someone's wife. What else? The list goes on and on, love. Do you want me to pursue?"

I think I heard my stomach's muscles clench at his words. Hearing his horrendous actions from someone was so different than hearing it spill out of his own mouth in utter nonchalance. He talked about it like it was an old, friendly memory he proudly revisited from time to time. It was disgusting.

"But why?" I asked and hoped the floor would split right beneath me and swallow me whole because it was a daft question. It was overbearingly idiotic. I mean, who asks a murderer the reason behind their actions when they made it a point that they're heartless through and through?

His thick, beautifully arched eyebrows shot up, creasing his forehead a little. His ocean-green eyes smiled despite his solemn facial expression. "Have I piqued your curiosity about me?"

"Don't flatter yourself," I rolled my eyes. "It was a wrong question-"

"No," he said quickly. "It was a question I hoped you'd realize you didn't have the answer for." He said differently with swivelling emotion beneath his irises. "I hoped you'd ask."

I looked at him with a raised brow. He made no sense. "I already know the answer. It was dumb-"

"You think you know the answer?"

"Well, you were the one who answered it for me, stupid," I said crossly as he tilted his head at my insult with a ludicrous, amused smile. "First day here. That I'm heartless, blah, blah, blah. That I almost killed my brother, ha, ha, ha. That I manipulated you, boo, boo, boo, and-" I was blathering, no longer looking at him, but was surprised to be cut off by his laughter.

It shook his c.h.e.s.t, tipped back his head, opened his mouth, showed his beautiful pearls, and teared up his narrowed, crinkled emerald eyes. His distinctive laughter ricocheted off the walls and filled my ears with p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e.

Through it all, he looked at me with so much emotion as his hands pushed back his dark, medium-lengthed, thick hair. And I wondered about what I said. If it was too funny to revive so much emotion in him.

It was amusing.

A smile threatened to spill over my lips at his joy but I kept it together. I wasn't here to crack jokes.

"Are you done?" I asked seriously as he ended his hearty laughter with a violent cough that pulled at my heartstrings (was he sick?). He then sighed softly and smiled widely at me. His eyes glassy and his cheeks, temples, and neck, red. He looked so handsome, I thought. So dangerous. It was a killer combination for me.

"Forgive me, love," he said breathlessly. "I'm a sucker for your sense of humour."

I frowned. "Well, too bad," I said. "We're not here to crack jokes and laugh. I wasn't trying to amuse-"

"You don't even have to try," was what he told me with a suddenly serious, pink face. "It comes naturally-"

"And we're not here to compliment each other either," I cut him, looking away and blushing furiously. I hate compliments.

"And we're not supposed to be 'playing' in the first place yet here we are," he retorted with a smirk.

I pursed my lips and scowled. "I opted for this methodology because you were being uncooperative! Definitely not to entertain you."

"Right." He nodded, diverting his gaze away. "I apologize. Shall we get back to the game?" He asked, feigning a serious look. I glared at him and puckered my lips irritably as I watched him try keeping a serious face before his eyebrows drew up and he burst into more laughter.

Despite my amus.e.m.e.nt at his obvious lack of self-control, I got to my feet irritably with my heels in one hand and his jacket in the other. "I am not playing this with you."

I started walking away, but he was already up, still chortling when he caught my arm. I quickly turned to his obnoxious, God, so delicious grin, tilted head, then looked at his big, warm hand, clutching my arm. He towered over me and we both, for a moment, seemed oblivious to how close we were. He immediately retracted his hand.

Hair fell over his eyes and I found it very tempting not to push them back for him. Instead, I deepened my frown. "Well?"

"I just wanted my jacket back," came his reply and my nose flared. Git.

"Have it back." I then threw it at him with as much force as possible, aiming at his face, but it pathetically missed and fell to the ground. Stupid, heavy jacket!

Rubbing my obvious, irritating failure in my face, Julius chuckled mockingly as I huffed out a defeated breath. I turned away from him and his attractiveness and his everything, and started walking barefoot in determination. He did not deserve my time.

"Wait!" I heard him say. "Mara-!" He immediately stopped and I quickly turned to him with a pang in my heart. He looked at me and, in fractions of a second, his once emotion-inhabited eyes, dulled to emptiness.

Just about when I thought it couldn't get more awkward, Julius casually approached me in wide strides. When he stood in front of me, he raised his eyebrows. "Can't you take a joke, darling?"

And I thought, what kind of question is this? Was calling me 'Mara' a joke to him? No. No. He crossed his line.

"It's not funny!" I bellowed and he looked genuinely shocked. As it happened, it was traumatizing and him reopening those old, bloody wounds didn't make it any better. He frowned slightly and got closer to me.

"It was a joke, love. Breathe," he looked at me questioningly.

"You call humiliating me a joke?" My breathing quickened and my brain panicked. My hands shook and my mouth dried up. It was like my body was preparing for a panic attack.

Julius' lips parted as he examined me before his frown deepened. "I never humiliated you. It was just the jacket. I mean, if you want it, please have it." He then backtracked to pick his jacket without showing me his back. But I was breathing because I was so stupid. Of course, he meant the jacket! What was my problem?!

I had to shake my head and shut my eyes. When I opened them, he stood in front of me with his jacket and a sad smile on his face. I sighed heavily. I was very stressed and it muddled with my thoughts and judgments. I had to calm down.

"I'm sorry," he said and I shook my head.

"No. I am -uh- sorry," I blurted, limply raising a hand and dropping it by my side. "We can continue the game, please. You shouldn't mind my outburst."

Julius stepped close to me with his jacket by his side as I watched the tiny 'V' between his eyebrows become more prominent. He stared into my eyes as his lips parted then closed. I watched him clench his jaws as he teased the small distance between us by swinging his left leg in front of him before taking it back.

It was like he couldn't afford to step closer. And I wasn't sure if I could afford it either, because looking in his eyes hurt my head so much. It hurt it from the rush of thoughts I got. Thoughts of the possibilities of what would happen if he took this step.

He then sighed heavily, dropping his head. "No, Samara. I am sorry. I shouldn't have played dumb. I am sorry I brought it up." His voice was soft. It was soft and I had to close my eyes because, wow. Because my heart couldn't take how quiet and sincere he was being.

I hadn't realized I didn't respond until he called my name. I then opened my eyes to stare at him. "We have to keep playing," I managed to whisper as I felt myself lean toward him.

I had to get a grip on myself.

"Yes. Right. Please," he said. "Can we do it on the stage? It's better than the floor." He looked behind him before looking back at me and watching my face. "What do you say?"

Instead of replying, I walked past him and to the platform. I gave it my back, rested my palms on its edges, and hoisted myself upon it. When I looked next to me, Julius was already sitting a good distance away from me, waiting for me as I adjusted my dress that had managed to override my t.h.i.g.hs.

When I turned fully to face him, he firmly held the jacket in front of me with a small, lopsided smile. There was a moment where our eyes and souls locked before I managed to grasp the jacket and spread it over my exposed t.h.i.g.hs.

"Your turn," was what I first breathed out.

His lips moved to form words before he simply smiled. "Truth or dare?"

I sighed wearily. "Truth."

He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows, then with a smile, he leaned toward me and talked. "Did you know that your father had blood on his hands?"

My breath hitched as I processed what he said. "What the hell are you saying?"

He silently nodded at me, keeping his mocking smile on. "He was a meurtrier. Isn't that what you call it in French? Murderer?"

I grimaced and jumped off the platform. "You know what, Julius?" I breathed through my nose as I watched his anticipating facial expression.

"What, love?"

"F.u.c.k you!" I flung the jacket in his face and started walking away from him.

And that was why, I realized, he let me skip a whole turn. Because he knew he had something terrible to share. To ask.

"So should I take that as a no?" I heard him yell this behind me but I ignored him and rapped at the door.

"You'll come back, Samara!" He continued saying. "You'll come back when you realize that I am the only lie you can trust!"

A guard opened the door and I walked out, not glancing back. Not even once.