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There was something wrong with Richard Haywood, that was simply a fact. Not that anyone would ever say it. With his dad being rich as hell and popularity taken so easily nobody would dare.
But everyone knew.
There was a glint in his eye that screamed that he thought everything was all just a game. It basically was. Everything was simply handed to him on a silver platter. Chicks, drugs, you name it and he would have it.
It got boring quickly. The novelty of sex only lasted so long, even when he started to record them. Drugs were much the same, fun, but more so just another pastime. Even people became boring. It was easy to charm others, figure out what to say to get a reaction out of them.
Adoration got dull. Hatred got dull too. The attention became all the same to him, so he pushed. Found people's limits, what made people tick, just to alleviate the boredom for even just a moment. Boundaries became a suggestion as he pushed. He was Richard, and he got what he wanted by any means.
There was something wrong with him.
But there was something wrong with Justine too. There was a flatness in his eyes, like he never experienced feeling alive. Boredom made into a person. He was easy.
He would make fun of him, then meet up after like they were buddies. There was no real way to label what they had, because it shouldn’t work, yet it does anyhow. Justin became another thing to have, to warp and bend simply because he could. Nobody cared about Justin, that was just a fact. Something about that excited him.
And it wasn’t as easy as saying that he was using Justin, because Justin was using him too. For better or for worse, they circled each other.
While Richard was all sharp edges and action, Justin was dull corners and intelligence. Like two broken things, they identified each other. Not the same in any way, no, nobody was like Richard Haywood, but something real. Freeing, in a way.
He knew Justin hated him. Still, he held on. Richard’s claws were dug into his skin and all he could do was take it, making no moves to ever dodge it even as he bored his sharp teeth. Really, it was Justin's fault for their predicament, for letting it happen. He smiled.
It was easy. A game, really. Justin was nothing, so he could simply push endlessly and find more to sink his claws into. His flat voice, empty eyes, made it all the more fun. Can’t really break something that was never not broken, right? Not like there was anyone who cared about him, and he didn’t even have to pretend that he did either.
The truth was that something was wrong with both of them, but all that meant was that only they could understand each other in the way that only broken things can. There was something poetic about that, wasn’t there?
Justin could say all he wanted about freedom and crime, but it was really all talk without Richard. The truth is that Justin needs him, claws hooked into his flesh and all. He took satisfaction in that.
His talk of freedom was alluring to Richard in the way all dangerous things are. Another thing to take, make him more than others. Make him alive.
And Justin was so confident about it too, in the way infallible things think they are. Marinating in suffering for so long, becoming one with it, like it made them stronger. It was easy to put his own confidence into it too. Life always worked out for him anyways.
It was clear from the start that Justin knew who he was and what he believed, that he knew that Richard was above knowing himself like Justin, because knowing yourself means being complacent with who you are. He knew that in this arrangement, Richard would be the one to betray because Justin simply wasn’t the type to. Even then, Richard was logical when he wanted to be, so as long as Justin was still useful to him then they would have nothing to worry about, right?
They planned, and the rush of the act was more intimate than anyone could ever put into words. Murdering someone with someone else was simply a thing that people did not often do for no real reason. That was the allure of it, to Richard at least. To tie yourself to someone else, to trust them entirely, who would ever do that?
He would.
They had done it, and no matter what they couldn’t take it back. They were tied together, sharing something together that nobody else would. That moment where they were burning evidence together felt like cementing it in place. It was them against the world. It was euphoric.
It was too late for any last thoughts, not that Richard was ever the type to have those. For how Justin talked about it all, he was much more squeamish than anticipated. It was good Justin had him though. They had done it.
What he had felt, was it freedom?
Justin, by all means, wasn’t perfect. He was cowardly and still held onto things that were frankly lower than Richard, things like feelings for girls. Or more accurately one girl. It blinded him, and he couldn’t have what was his being blind.
He had always found it easy to push. So what were a couple of lines crossed when they had crossed into freedom, together. Not like lines had ever stopped him before. He just climbed into his house, making himself comfortable on Justin’s bed, waiting. It was easy.
The feeling of Justin’s throat under his hands gave him a thrill, and when he gave him the recording he could almost envision the expressions on Justin’s face. He wonders, just which body would Justin focus on more. Hers, or his? He doesn’t know which one he would prefer, but he hopes that it haunts Justin all the same.
He couldn’t have Justin losing focus.
It was easy to call. Tell him from the street that he was the only one who got him, that he deserved to know, like he was doing him a service. In a way, or at least in his own eyes, he was. It was funny that Richard cared, because to care about Justin was to still care about himself above all. That's how far he had sunk his claws. He couldn’t have Justin prioritizing anyone else.
It doesn’t stop Justin from going to her, though, does it.
But getting mad at that would be to think that Justin wouldn’t still choose him in the end, and he knows that isn’t true. Justin was simply his, and that was that.
They met much less than they used to. When they do, it's with an undercurrent of stress. They don’t want to be seen with each other after all. He questions and pushes, and for once Justin’s calm cracks and he punches him. The blood flows from his nose, warm.
It feels inexplicably intimate, once the shock wore off of course. He was the only one to ever see Justin like this. This was all for him. Richard had got that reaction out of him. That bitch would never.
He doesn’t know what that says about him, but it warms him. He pulls Justin into a hug, because what else can he do? Calls him a good boy, the warmth of his own blood and Justin’s body against his, solid.
It feels like a kiss.
What got him through that interrogation was the fact that no matter what, Justin wouldn’t betray him. That fact kept him silent, kept him denying. He was in deep shit obviously, the police were never supposed to get them like this. Or maybe they were. Maybe this was still part of Justin’s plan. He can hope, he supposed.
It was the nicer thought, so he chose to believe it.
They were a force together, Richard and Justin. A force nobody saw coming. Justin would never betray Richard, that's just not who he is.
He was Richard fucking Haywood, and he was not ending up in jail.
They knew each other, knew what this thing they had meant. Justin would never betray him, that's not who he is. Richard would, if anything, but he won’t because they were a united force.
And he found himself caring, even if it was himself that the care leads back to, it's all the same.
He had to hold onto that, because what else was there? To acknowledge that he wasn’t in control, no, he wouldn’t. What he could do was wait them out. Being rich has its perks after all, his lawyer must surely be on their way. All he, no they, needed to do was stay quiet.
Justin wouldn’t.
“Look, Justin is saying that you betrayed him. He told us about Lisa, and the tape you made.”
No.
“Justins talking. He is going to win this thing, Richard, unless you have something to tell me.”
But Justin did, didn’t he?
When he calls, leaning against the car, he already knows that Justin is with that bitch telling her everything. The illusion of sharing something entirely theirs shatters, and he sees it for what it is. A chain, with a ball at the end. A crime he committed with someone who was woefully naive.
And so was he.
He knew, at the very least, that Justin would come meet him for this last step.
And maybe Richard could have been true to the plan like he was at the start, but the truth is that Justin was the one who was at fault. Justin had the audacity to believe himself something more than broken, something more than Richard.
He was going to give Justin the loaded gun, and then he is going to watch him die.
If asked, Richard would say that death, after everything, might be the only way to be truly free. That he was doing a service to Justin, one last act of kindness. Before everything, he would have been truthful, stuck to the plan. This way, maybe he can make it right somehow, watching the blood seep out of his only friend. Then shoot himself, spare Justin from having to see him dead. That's what he would say was the plan. Maybe that's poetic in a way. He could even envision the way he would say it, all flowery and sickeningly meaningful. Like he really meant it.
But the truth is that all of that is bullshit and Richard just doesn’t want to die. He would have, before, for Justin.
But Justin talked.