“Don’t throw up. It might lead the police to us,” he muttered and started his work by taping Pete’s wrists together, so his hands wouldn’t flop around.
Ros nodded with a beaten expression, but when prompted, he approached to help cover Pete’s chest and head with the bag. “What will we do with him?”
Shane’s lips dried, and he met the blue gaze. “If you lend me your car, I’ll get him someplace where he won’t be found.”
“I’m not leaving you with this, Shane. We’ll get through this together.”
Was Ros trying to… reassure him? That had to be the cutest thing Shane had ever seen. Comparable only with Goofy barking at the rain as if that could save them both from getting wet.
And just like he’d never want Goofy to lose that sense of wonder, he’d do everything in his power to avoid further stains on Ros’s conscience.
“Look, that’s very noble of you, but I… you know, we’re not the same. I’m more accustomed to this kind of stuff,” he muttered as Ros’s handsome, smiling face flashed through his memory.
“How so?” Ros asked, rolling the body over when prompted. Shane didn’t miss the way his hands trembled. The agile fingers that had sculpted the girl’s face in clay didn’t belong in Shane’s world of body disposal, yet here they were.
Shane itched to do this himself, or get Frank to come over and help him, but Ros’s presence was so calming, he ended up shaking his head at his own thoughts. “I’m… I’ve just come out of prison. So I’ve seen things.”
Ros’s head bobbed up, eyes wide, and Shane recoiled in anticipation of judgement. “Oh. Y-you haven’t said. Wh-when? What were you in for?”
“A few weeks ago,” muttered Shane, gesturing for Ros to pull the limp body up so he could wrap the tape around Pete’s arms. “And it doesn’t matter what I was in for because I didn’t do it.”
Shane shouldn’t have revealed this at a moment so tense, but maybe the conversation would at least distract Ros from the terrible task he chose to participate in out of an unexpected sense of duty. But when Rosen hadn’t accused him of obscuring his murky past or gotten angry, a part of Shane wished to share a bit more. Maybe it was him who was the pup seeking approval?
“Oh no… That’s horrendous. And you weren’t able to fight the accusations in court?” Ros asked as they moved on to Pete’s ankles.
It was such a naive question that Shane thought he was being mocked. But no, Ros stared at him with open sympathy, as if he didn’t know that scum like Shane, people who didn’t have the money to employ their own lawyer, and who had been raised on a diet of violence and mistrust, were never given a chance.
“No. A very important man framed me for something he’d done himself. He was left to get on with his life, and I rotted away. But he will pay for what he did,” Shane growled, his vision going red as he took in Ros’s face.
It was a shame the road to destroying Ed Beck led through this boy.
“Was prison… scary?” Ros asked, no doubt pondering his own future as they packed Pete’s legs into a trash bag.
What kind of question was that even?
A fire kindled at the back of Shane’s mind, and he ground his teeth to keep from barking. “You actually believe me?”
Ros blinked, opening his mouth. “Why would you lie to me? We’re literally disposing of a body together.”
The hot smoke was gradually spreading through Shane’s veins, and he found it difficult to think with the fumes filling his skull. “People like you don’t believe people like me. Experience,” he muttered, wrapping the tape around the limp ankles.
“Um… People like me? We’re both drug dealers, and lovers. So yes, I do believe you, and I don’t like what you’re insinuating!”
As if that was their biggest problem right now.
Lovers. Rosen thought they were a real couple. He had no idea where this led, and that the man he’d chosen was just as rotten as Pete would be next week.
“We’re not the same. If we got caught, I’d be right back in the can, and your daddy would have kept you safe.”
Working together in silence was somehow much worse than the earlier spat, but when Shane spotted tears dripping down Ros’s cheeks, he couldn’t take it anymore.
“Look, if you’d rather wait outside, I can make Brad carry him with me, okay?” he muttered, shriveling on the inside. He should’ve been annoyed by this display of weakness, but instead fought guilt weighing him down like lead chains.
“No, I wouldn’t rather!” Ros pierced Shane with a glare. “So maybe we’re not the same, but that doesn’t mean you can’t trust me. You can talk to me about shit. I want to know you. But I guess if I don't mean anything to you, then you can tell me. I’ll back off.”