Deft fingers moved along the piano keys, his eyes closed, memorizing where to put pressure and when to move. The music swelled in the room, a need to think of something else, to ease away other things from his mind. The distractions were common and the exertion to stay on his feet was getting to him. He stayed in the room, away from the others, and he let the music become his to control.

With each movement, his heart raced, he breathed deeply in, and the image appeared in his mind as he slowed his fingers, soothing the sound at the sight of the white haired male in the distance. Dirt and blood stained his fingers, and his blue eyes widened. Awestruck and fear, a sense of safety yet his flight-or-fight is ringing loud in his head, he can see it in his eyes as he moves back and forth on his feet.

He wants to tell him its okay, but he can't seem to form the words, not when the music grew heavier, and he grabbed his jaw and pulled him closer. He knew pain too well, but there was also trust, a misplaced kind of trust that he had created in the weeks they've known each other. And he wanted to taste the trembling lips of this man as fear stretched thin between them.

His grip on his jaw soothed away, fingers finding the white strands of this frightened man, and yet no words were uttered.

He slowed the music, shaking his head at his rapid thoughts, of wanting something he couldn't have. And yet he imagined it, a kiss shared between them, one that didn't need to be hidden in the shadows, nor between the tortured screams and grime of the basement.

"Ruben."

He opened his eyes and his fingers went still. His heart was still racing and a slight irritation crawled itself into his mind, the entire image fading away as he turned his head to look at Jimenez.

"What is it?" he asked, biting back an insult.

Jimenez stood in a white coat, clean and pressed, no wrinkle in sight. A grey shirt underneath tucked in black trousers. He was an aging thing, the crevices of his rotten soul was easily noticeable. Ruben didn't like looking at it so he went back to staring at the keys before removing his hands, ignoring the urge to continue playing.

"Leslie is sleeping," Jimenez states. "You don't have to worry about his whereabouts."

Ruben furrowed his brows, confused. "I'm not."

Jimenez scoffs, and Ruben's reminded of his father when he was young and he caught him in a lie. Once he had the inclination to hide behind his sister when his father was about to have a tantrum. It always echoed in his head later that night, his racing heart not able to go still afterwards. He didn't like that there was someone similar alive and standing close by that gave him this memory.

"I'm not dumb." A tone of an unsatisfied man, reprimanding him like he was a child. It was distasteful. "There's something odd going on between you and Leslie."

Ruben stood from the bench, fixing his cuff. "There's nothing going on between us." A flicker of Leslie standing in front of him and Ruben pushing him against the wall, their mouths meeting in an act of desperation and rage makes its way into his head. "You did leave him for a week, what else was I supposed to do with him besides entertain your bored patient." All they really did was burn papers and books.

The gap that allowed them to grow closer was the issue, but Ruben didn't bother acknowledging it. He pushed it from his mind while Jimenez continued speaking, worry seemed to seep into his voice.

"He didn't find out anything in the basement?" Jimenez asked, glaring at Ruben.

"If he did, it doesn't seem to bother him."

Jimenez snarled. "I'm being serious."

"I am too." Ruben wasn't surprised that Jimenez would simply shake his head, taking in his sardonic tone and letting it clear away any other suspicions to the basement. It's not like he was going to explain it to Jimenez.

"While I was gone, and whatever entertainment that allowed him to cling to you like a fretful child. I do suspect you attended to his needs. " Jimenez didn't hide the coy emphasis, and it only allowed Ruben's disgust for the man grow.

"You think so low of me to consider that when I have my research," Ruben said, not hiding his annoyance, fingers curling, "if you're so bothered by your patient's unnecessary attachment, why don't you leave with him? You've stayed long enough, and I'm sure his behavior has changed to the point he can return to Beacon."

The words seem to leave his lips before he can regret them. A hint of it as he glanced away, glaring at the dust stained carpet. He was easily provoked by this man, he never liked being in the same room as him. Always adding to the persuasion that he cared about Ruben and acted more on the terms that he can use Ruben for his own ends. Like the rotten aspect of him, it was too obvious not to notice.

Jimenez hummed, all his anger left his features as he glanced up at the ceiling before looking at Ruben. He gave him a tilted smile. "I'll consider it. He has stayed for almost three weeks, and there's been a significant change."

"I'd rather not have this strategy repeated," Ruben said. "I need to focus on my research more than your subjects. Consider a different tactic or I'll lock my doors."

Jimenez grinned, the sly bastard knew Ruben knew why he was there, why he brought Leslie. It was almost pathetic, but here they were, and Ruben barely fought the strain. At least not until he stayed in Leslie's presence for as long as he could. Having a sense of something he thought he lost.

"Of course, I do apologize for the inconvenience, however the mess that was created in my absence, and during Leslie's stay, it has benefited the both of us," Jimenez said, stepping back toward the entrance to the room. "Depends on the circumstance and perception of the absence." He turned and left the room, leaving Ruben glaring at the man until he turned the corner.

He hated him.

That despicable man. He was too aware, knew how to move his piece upon the board, to press his fingers along the key to make it sing. He knew when to push Ruben over the edge, to make him angry inside, a sliver in his skin that needed to be plucked free.

He's using Leslie's attachment against him. Whatever they wanted from him, they were getting it through Jimenez. Even if he did lie in the reports and took samples from Ruben's research notes upon his desk. The man was a leech, a cockroach, something that needed to die, but somehow thrived.

Ruben sat down on the bench, pressing his fingers upon the keys, letting the music fill the room. It was light, unlike his tense feelings coiling in his body, he let himself think about Leslie. His fear had smoothed out after several days of being with each other, watching one another as they stood in shadows, surrounded by cold air and the smell of the earth, old parchment, and tang of blood.

Now he was regretting his words and hated that he had followed Jimenez's whims without thought. It was inevitable. Something he couldn't fight. Maybe this was a good thing, there would be no other distractions that would hinder his work.

Ruben dropped his hand from the piano and sat in silence, unable to let go of his regret that began to form into something indescribable.