His finger hovered over the bell button, and he stalled, eyes focused on the peephole.
Who in their right mind would have opened their door to him after dark?
A sense of uselessness balled at the pit of his stomach, and he stepped away, teeth clenched tight as he listened to the three pairs of footsteps. Why were they being so fucking slow? Did they not want to either dismiss or follow up on whatever clue they might find inside?
Tank was the first to reach him, but as painfully frustrating as it was, Clover was the least threatening of them all, so it was him to ring the bell while the rest of them stood close by. But as soon as that door opened, Pyro would burst in there and finally get a chance to act.
Clover rang one time, then another, but no matter how long they waited, none of them could hear any movement on the other side.
Tank cleared his throat. “He’s not at work. He might have gone out for dinner or shopping. Shall we w—?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Only the thought of Boar kept Pyro from yelling, but the hiss he let out instead was even more venomous. “He might as well be on vacation, for all we know! I’ll open that door if Hake won’t,” he said, about to ram his body against it when Tank grabbed his shoulder. It took all of Pyro’s patience to not punch him in answer. “What?”
Tank swallowed, meeting Pyro’s gaze with that annoyingly worried frown in place. “You’ll make too much noise. Let Drake handle it.”
Anger was like lava about to overflow, but when Pyro saw Drake pull out his set of lock-picking tools, the heat inside was replaced by the frosty sense of uselessness. Once again, he could do nothing to make progress toward his reunion with Boar. It was as if the others saw him as more of an obstruction than help when he was the only one who truly had nothing to do with Boar’s disappearance.
And what hurt most was that even Boar had left him in the dark and had gone off without sharing his intentions. Had he not trusted Pyro either? That thought stabbed into Pyro’s gut so hard, the need for a drink was getting unbearable. At least when he drank and used drugs, the pain of loss was that bit less sharp. The loneliness became a blur, and if he was really lucky, Clover was there to help him forget without the need to talk. When Pyro fucked Clover, he could almost sense Boar around. They’d chosen him together after all.
Drake fiddled with the lock for a while before the door opened with a tiny click. Boar would have laughed at Pyro for getting so frustrated over a bit of wait. He always had a way of cooling Pyro down, but without him around, very little made sense anymore.
Drake put his finger, which was already covered with leather, against his mouth and looked inside, revealing lamplight in the open room at the end of the corridor. Of course. It only made sense for the one who was best at stealth to enter first. Pyro hung his head and let it happen.
If Drake was the rogue of their group, Tank was the, well… Tank, Clover the charmer, what was his place? The one who cracked jokes? Pyro didn’t even do much of that anymore, and he sure as fuck was no healer.
Tension was thick in the cool air as Drake entered the apartment. Pyro watched him move in careful steps and methodically peek into every room on the way. This too made sense. Pyro itched to burst in there, guns blazing, but if Hake was inside, then leaving the light on while hiding somewhere else would have been the oldest trick in the book.
After endless seconds, Drake’s black form reached its destination, and Pyro’s heartbeat became so frantic he could barely stand the pressure, but when Clover’s delicate hand slid into his, the buzzing need to fuck everything and get in eased somewhat, so he squeezed the boy’s fingers in gratitude.
He took a deep breath and looked up, only to face Drake, who was back and opened the door wide, wordlessly inviting them inside. His face was tense, but there was something different about his current expression.
“He’s dead,” Drake whispered.
Pyro gasped for air and let go of Clover. He burst into the room to see a body dangling from the ceiling like a horrific pendant.
Hake was a small man with gray hair, but his face had stilled with his mouth hanging open, eyes bulging and red as if most of the blood vessels in them had burst. Pyro couldn’t believe it. All this fucking effort for nothing? He wanted to punch the corpse, but Tank pulled him back.