Before Elliot could launch into his explanation, the bedroom door slammed open with enough force to rattle the picture frames on the walls. Camilo stood in the doorway, his fluffy pink robe billowing around him like a battle cloak, his slippers planted firmly on the hardwood, and his expression twisted into a mask of pure, unfiltered fury. His hair was no longer wrapped in its towel, spilling in wild dark curls, and his dark eyes blazed as they locked onto the trembling figure of Griss on the floor.
"¡Tú! ¡Eres tú, pinche desgraciado!" Camilo's voice cracked through the room like a whip, his finger jabbing toward Griss with murderous intent. "Do you have any idea what you did to my bathroom? ¡Mi baño! I spent three hours cleaning that bathroom yesterday, three hours, and you covered every single surface in your asqueroso cum! The mirror! The sink! The floor! The towels! ¡Las toallas! I had to throw away perfectly good towels because of you! And Leo! My cleaner Leo! You broke him!! He keeps mumbling about your mouth and then passing out again! ¡Es un desastre! Un desastre total!"
Griss cowered on the floor, the thin sheet barely covering his naked body, his eyes wide with terror. "I'm sorry—I didn't mean to—I was just—"
"¡Cállate! Don't you dare apologize to me! I don't want your apologies! I want you out of this house! ¡Fuera! Elliot, Grayson, call the police. Right now. This little monstruo is going to jail where he belongs. Breaking and entering. Vandalism. Assault on my staff. He's going to rot in a cell and I'm going to personally testify at his trial!"
The word "police" hit Griss like a physical blow. His face went white, his eyes blown wide with panic. He scrambled onto his knees, the sheet falling away completely, and clasped his hands together in front of him like a man praying for his life.
"No! Please! Please don't call the cops! I'll do anything! Anything you want! I'll clean the bathrooms! I'll scrub the floors! I'll be a servant! I'll be a sex slave! Whatever you want, just please don't call the police!"
Elliot and Grayson lit up at the words "sex slave." Their heads swiveled toward each other, identical grins spreading across their freckled faces.
"Sex slave?" Elliot repeated, his voice rising with barely contained excitement.
"He said sex slave."
"I heard sex slave," Grayson confirmed, nodding rapidly. "He offered. Voluntarily. We didn't even have to ask."
"We could keep him in the closet. There's plenty of room."
"We could train him. Teach him to be good."
"We could use him for stress relief. Daily stress relief. Multiple times a day stress relief."
"Theo would never have to know. We'd keep him hidden like a little secret pet."
Griss watched them plot with growing horror, clearly realizing that the twins' version of "sex slave" might be even worse than jail. But before he could take back his offer, Kota stepped forward and clapped his hands together once, the sound sharp and commanding.
"Nobody is taking anyone as a sex slave. We're not fucking a desperate eighteen-year-old with the threat of the cops hanging over his head. That's coercion. That's illegal. And honestly, it's just messed up."
Elliot's face crumpled into a pout. "You're no fun."
"You never let us have anything nice," Grayson added, crossing his arms. "First the dildo, now the sex slave. What's next? You gonna tell us we break into YOUR house and suck you in your sleep?"
"Thats never going to happen"
"Never say never," Elliot muttered.
Kota ignored them and squatted down in front of Griss, his eyes level with the trembling stalker's. Up close, Griss looked even more pathetic. His piercings were crooked, his dyed black hair was a disaster, and his body was still covered in the dried evidence of his marathon session with the twins. He shrank back from Kota's gaze, his expression flickering between fear and something darker. Disdain. Hatred. Resentment.
"Alright," Kota said, his voice calm but firm. "Start talking. Why are you here? Why did you break into Theo's house?"
Griss's lip curled. He looked at Kota like he was staring at something foul he had found on the bottom of his shoe. "It's your fault. All of this. Everything. You ruined everything."
Kota's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
"My darling Theo," Griss spat, the words dripping with venom. "I've been watching him for months. I know his schedule. I know his coffee order. I know the exact shade of his eyes when the light hits them just right. I was supposed to be with him. I was supposed to be the one he fell for. But then you came along with your big shoulders and your stupid deep voice and you stole him from me. He doesn't even know I exist because of you. He can't see me because you're always in the way. So I filed that anonymous tip to get you expelled. I thought if you were gone, he'd finally notice me. But it didn't work. Nothing worked. So I broke into his car, and I followed him home, and I was going to find a way to make him see me. To make him love me. But then those two—" he jerked his chin toward the twins, "—ruined everything."
Kota's expression had been neutral throughout Griss's confession, but something shifted when Griss mentioned Theo. His jaw tightened. His eyes hardened. The protective instinct that had been simmering under his skin since the moment he heard the word "stalker" finally boiled over.
"You did all of this," Kota said, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous register. "The stalking. The anonymous tip. Breaking into his car. Breaking into his house. All of this. Just to try and fuck my boyfriend?"
Griss's defiant expression flickered. "It's not just about fucking him. I love him. I've always loved him. He's my darling. My everything. You don't understand—"
"I understand plenty." Kota stood up, his full height suddenly very apparent as he loomed over Griss's cowering form. Elliot and Grayson watched with wide eyes, leaning toward each other and whispering.
"Ooh, he's mad," Elliot murmured. "This is the hot protective boyfriend energy we've been waiting for."
"Ten dollars says he punches him," Grayson whispered back.
"I'll take that bet. I think it's going to be a hate fuck. Look at his jaw. That's not a punching jaw. That's a 'bend over before I destroy you' jaw."
"You're on."
But Kota didn't punch Griss. He didn't bend him over either. Instead, he turned and walked over to Camilo, leaning down to whisper something in the housekeeper's ear. Camilo's furious expression shifted as he listened. His eyes widened, then narrowed, then curved into something that could only be described as evil glee. A slow, wicked grin spread across his face, and he let out a low chuckle that made Griss flinch.
"Kota," Camilo said, straightening up and adjusting his robe. "Eres un genio. An absolute genius. I love it. I love everything about it."
He walked over to Griss, his slippers making soft shuffling sounds on the hardwood, and planted his hands on his hips. "Congratulations, pequeño monstruo. You're not going to jail. You're not going to be a sex slave. You're going to be our new cleaner."
Griss blinked. "What?"
"Every single day after school, you come here. You clock in. You put on a uniform. And you clean. Not the bathrooms, God no, you've already proven you can't be trusted in there. You're on pool duty. Four hours a day. Skimming leaves. Scrubbing tiles. Cleaning the filters. You will be far, far away from Theo at all times. If you even look in his direction, I will know, and I will make your life a living hell. ¿Entiendes?"
Kota crossed his arms. "Do you live with your parents? Is there someone we need to call about this arrangement?"
Griss shook his head slowly, still processing. "No. No parents. I live with three roommates. But I don't have a job. Rent's been hard. I've been surviving on instant noodles and whatever my roommates leave in the fridge."
Kota clapped his hands together once, the sound sharp and final. "Then it's decided. Griss is the new pool boy. He starts today. Camilo trains him. He gets paid minimum wage, which is more than he deserves, and he stays on the opposite end of the property from Theo at all times. Everyone wins."
Griss stared up at him, his expression a mess of conflicting emotions. Hatred was still there, burning in his dark eyes, but underneath it was something else. Surprise. Gratitude. A grudging, reluctant respect. "I still hate your guts," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I still wish you were dead. But... thank you. For not sending me to jail."
Kota chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder. "You're welcome. But let me make one thing very, very clear." He squatted down again, his face inches from Griss's, his voice dropping into something cold and serious that made the temperature in the room feel like it had dropped ten degrees. "If you even think of going near my boyfriend again, I will fuck you so hard you'll be limping for months. Do you understand me?"