That Terrific {Tension}, For Tom Riddle

[Jack Rose]

The irresistible scent of coffee and cake wafted around Rosmerta’s café and Jack Rose was whacked in the face with it the moment he opened the door. The café itself was warm and seemed to buzz with a cheerfulness Jack had only managed to experience in three places; 1) at a blackjack table, 2) at this café, and 3) when having sex. The tables and chairs were half full and off to the corner a little there was a small table for two that Jack intended on taking for himself. He checked the time on his Rolex and smiled merrily to himself, approaching the ever wonderful Rosmerta herself. She had became a sort of Goddess to Jack since he moved from England three years ago and discovered most Americans could not make a decent cup of tea to save their life. Her café was like a haven, and her ample bosom was like an added bonus on display, barely covered properly by her stretched tops.

“Thankyou very, very much Rosmerta,” he smiled charmingly at the woman as she gave him his tea, and, careful, not to spill any, he made his way to the table he had noticed and put down the beverage. He was clad in a pair of shiny smart black shoes, casual-smart black trousers and a neatly ironed yet un-tucked navy shirt, and a black blazer jacket, which he removed and put over the back of his chair before gratefully sitting upon it to enjoy his tea and momentary solitude.

In his blazer pocket, the one nestled now against his left elbow, was a rather large sum of money which he needed to give to Tom Riddle – whom he was expecting would turn up any moment now. Words could not express how the English man saw Tom. It wasn’t love or romance, it was purely intrigue, interest and physical attraction… but… Tom had something Jack had never seen before, and he couldn’t put his finger on it. It was just part of ‘The Dark Lord,’ something in him which made him extremely appealing to the blond man. Maybe it was the darkness that loomed in his eyes, maybe it was the intelligence he demonstrated with almost every conversation they shared, but Jack imagined his main attraction to Mr Riddle was the three-year long heavy flirting they had been participating in that had been neither consummated nor questioned. It was just the way it was. Jack and Tom flirted, it was one of those questioned that didn’t need a ‘why’ added onto the end. It was what it was, and it was fucking fantastic.

Jack sipped his tea like a well-trained English boy, and began people spotting. There was a couple beside the window who had their tongues so far down one another’s throat that it looked like they were trying to share an oxygen supply, or eat each others faces off. There was also an elderly woman a few tables from Jack, humming away happily to herself as she fingered a double chocolate chip muffin which would no doubt clog up her arteries, give her a heart attack and be the death of her. There were a few kids, a business man or two, but really, it wasn’t as crowded as it could have been at this sort of hour – 4pm – and for this Jack was grateful. He did not appreciate perfect strangers watching him drink his tea simply because there was no room for them to turn their head in any other direction.

But where was Tom?

Jack opened a sachet of sugar which was terribly designed, and it spilt onto the table. He sighed, and emptied another one into his drink to sweeten it, and absentmindedly drew the shape of a spade from a pack of playing cards into the sugar with his little finger. He supposed this relaxed, coffee-scented moment should not be wasted before it filled itself with sexual tension so thick you’d have difficulty cutting into it with a chainsaw, but he honestly had very little to do, and sometimes, Jack felt, doing nothing at all was the best way to pass the time of day.

[Tom Riddle]

As Tom walked into Rosmerta's, he did his usual look around, preferring to familiarise himself with the clientel of the day in the event that he needed to do some quick haggling, or even leave... It seemed that he could no longer simply walk into the coffee shop and buy a cup of joe, and read the newspaper. But he'd made a choice that he could not simply renege on now, after all, he'd gotten in a little too deep... Sometimes he wished that he had never been so ambitious, so bloody willing to throw it all away for money, fame, and power. But then he remembered his new car, and the wealth that seemed to accumulate with ruining lives. And he loved it again. And then he remembered what it was like to date normal people, to be able to have lovers without worrying that they'd rat him out.... it was an emotional roller coaster that never ended. Up and down... and today was one of those days where he just wanted it all to end. Not his life of course. He just wanted to hand over his empire to someone who would truly enjoy it, and then go to the Bahamas with the money and find a nice beautiful, educated boy who'd be willing to marry him and adopt kids...

There was good old Jack, sitting at his usual table, as dashing as ever. He cut a rather admirable figure, with a slick suit, his blazer perfect. As usual, Tom seemed rather out of place with his somewhat preppy attire, but he couldn't help but love his Lacoste polos a little too much... And it would be strange sitting near Jack with such divergent clothing styles, but he didn't care that much. Waving slightly, he pulled the chair out from the table and plopped down across from his friend, admiring his sandy blond hair and sharp blue eyes. Yummy. Tom had never once regretted meeting Jack Rose, who had quickly become his wingman, his right hand, his trusted confidant. Nothing had caused Tom to ever doubt the guy, who was not only smart enough to rival Tom, but even surpass him on occasion. At first he'd been annoyed, after all, it wasn't often that he suffered blows to his ego. But, recovering within a few minutes of losing horrendously to the guy, he decided that it was better to recruit the fellow to his side instead of losing him to the police or something like that...

Anyhow, Jack and he met up fairly often to flirt, exchange drugs and money, and just hang out. It was nice having a friend he could not only trust, but trust to handle the dough and the drugs. He never worried because Jack never failed to deliver, and sometimes go above and beyond the call of duty. Tom paid him generously, because it wouldn't be good to alienate such a good friend and coworker. Besides, he wanted Jack to be able to live as comfortably as he did; after all, they were accomplices and equals, not employer and employee, really. And also, Jack deserved the money more than any other dealer, and Tom really had nothing else to do with the money; he'd almost run out of ways to spend it, there was so much.

"Hey, man," he said, holding out his hand for a high five. "Good business? This week has been smoking... I swear, I've sold more merchandise this week than the last three weeks combined."

He flagged Rosmerta down, and ordered a steaming cup of joe, copious milk, no sugar please, for his afternoon pick me up. After all, he'd stayed up all night doing the expense accounts in case he got audited. Which was really really unlikely, because he'd managed to stash most of the cash in a Swiss bank. The rest of the money was a "trust fund" that he'd "inherited" from his long lost "uncle Alfie". Yeah.... he was alway surprised how well he could bamboozle people. But even that wasn't his specialty; he definitely preferred the planning of other criminal activities. In fact, most of the time, he left the con work to Jack, and simply planned other things... Like that recent murder, which he really really needed to talk to Jack about, but hadn't managed to work up the courage yet.

He wasn't sure how his friend would take it. After all, their little enterprise had been relatively innocuous until now; a lot of drugs, harmless enough, really, a fair bit of conning, but not exactly tons of money. Most of the money they had had simply accumulated, not been from any big jobs, although there was that really big saie a couple of months ago that had probably enabled them to retire for fifty years... but anyhow, adding murder to the mix wasn't exactly part of the game plan. And really, it had been an accident. He'd just gotten mad and happened to have a really nice gun in his pocket. How to explain three bullet holes in the chest? He wasn't sure jack would approve, really.

[Jack Rose]

Did the man ever dress well? Really? Be sharp on the outside, be sharp on the inside, but evidently this concept was lost on Mister Tom Riddle, who decided to waltz into the coffee shop, true to form, in a polo shirt. Jack could do nothing but chuckle. Side by side, most would guess that Jack was the employer and Tom was a slightly scruffy young man with lovely dark hair, but alas, it was the other way around, and as Jack often teased, he played the part of a ‘blond bitch’ very well. He didn’t really think of Tom as his employer at any rate. Yes, he checked back with him, and was told what needed to be done by him, but it had always been a far more friendly and casual relationship, lined with attraction and smothered in debates. Jack wouldn’t switch it for anything. No amount of mind-blowing sex could top an intellectual debate – and it was even better if Jack won the said debate. Good God he loved to win.

Jack was very much a con man, able to get his own way and alter certain facts to his own liking through connections alone. It came in very, very useful. Jack handled the theft and conning and police issues, and such things, and Tom sorted out... well... everything else, or so Jack supposed.

But even with Tom’s penchant for wearing polo shirts, Jack couldn’t fault the guy. He was… sex on legs… teacups on saucers… the personification of an expensive car… he was everything, and, ultimately, nothing at all. That was why Tom Riddle was just fucking fabulous. So, Jack raised his hand automatically to return Tom’s high five as the American took the free seat at the usual table, and looked at his tea. All of the coffee beans in the world could form a conga line in front of him and wiggle under a limbo bar whilst singing in fluent Latin, and Jack would still throw it all away for one cup of damn good tea. As their hands met, Jack taught Tom’s hand teasingly in his own, before slowly letting go, allowing his own fingers to brush all the way down Tom’s palm before he went back to holding his tea as if nothing had happened.

"Hey, man, good business? This week has been smoking... I swear, I've sold more merchandise this week than the last three weeks combined."

“Good afternoon,” Jack chuckled, putting his cup of almost-empty tea on the table. None of this ‘cup half full’ rubbish. This cup was definitely, definitely, nearly empty. He would ask Rosmerta for another shortly, he supposed, but he simply brushed the split sugar off of the table and faced Tom properly with his crystal eyes, peering into the deep, dark pools of Tom’s own. He could get lost in those eyes… He put his right hand into his blazer pocket (the item of clothing itself still hanging over the back of his chair) and pulled out a brown envelope with the words ‘Tommy ‘wants to’ Fiddle’ written on in bold black handwriting. He passed it to Tom as if it was perfectly innocent. Within the envelope was an extremely large sum of money, and the bulk of the envelope itself was enough proof of that. “Absolutely fantastic sales, actually. I suppose the new clients must have gotten lost along the straight and narrow. The police have been far more active recently though, haven’t they?” the English man with an accent to die for smirked, not seeing this as a threat, but more as a source of entertainment, then downed the last of his tea with the sigh of a satisfied man.

He could not help but notice his friend’s expression. As though he were trying to hide something, or, avoid something. As there was nobody in here Jack would have though Tom needed to avoid, and as the dark-haired man had a cup of coffee… and had just been handed a large sum of money, Jack could not understand the expression immediately. Now, a smart man would have not mentioned it at all. But Jack was not smart. He exceeded smart. Smart was a vague dot in the background, a line he had crossed long ago. So, he decided to question the man in his own way.

“Why do you look like you have dung below your nose? The coffee isn’t that bad.” It was hard to believe this man was usually eloquent and charming. Well, Tom could just bring out the very best in people, couldn’t he? “You look pensive.” He leaned forward, putting his forearms on the table and clasping his hands together, looking straight into Tom’s eyes with a crooked smile There was only one reason Tom could look like that in his current situation. Jack almost laughed at Tom’s mesh of expressions all clumped into one on his face. “What did you do this time, Tommy?”

[Tom Riddle]

Tom winced slightly as he pocketed the envelope. "Yeah, the police have been getting antsy, and for a good reason..." He trailed off, and then looked into his murky cup of coffee. As usual, only Rosmerta could brew the proper cup, so strong it would knock the socks off any lesser man. But Tom was beginning to think, that despite his ability to stomach the coffee, that he was a lesser man... And how on earth to tell Jack? He respected Jack more than anyone else in the whole world, and well... it would hurt to have to lose Jack's esteem and respect. And he didn't want to have to tell him ever, but the fact of the matter was, if the body was ever found, if the evidence ever uncovered that might point in his direction, Jack could be indirectly in trouble. Of course, Tom doubted that he would be accused of the murder, but associating with Tom would probably stain his career, and blow their cover. Especially if Tom was caught. And that was why he had to tell him. He had to give Jack the option of backing out now, before the shit hit the fan, if it ever did.

“Why do you look like you have dung below your nose? The coffee isn’t that bad. You look pensive." Jack was leaning forward on his elbows, his bright blue eyes fixed on Tom's face. Tom had to look away lest he give himself away prematurely. He felt vulnerable, the first in a long time. He tried to think of the last time he'd cared what people thought of him; it had been a very very long time ago. And here he was, about to ruin a perfectly good friendship, and a perfectly good flirtation. Oh yes, he had felt those lingering fingers on his palm after they had high-fived, and he had felt a tingle run down his back as he always did when he got lost in those blue blue eyes. And he didn't want to lose that, never mind the business partner aspect. The friendship. But he knew that if he never told Jack, and it came to the light later, it would bite him in the ass, and he'd lose the friendship anyway.

“What did you do this time, Tommy?” God. Jack knew him too well. And it was unnerving. Tom had always been able to hide his emotions from most people, but not Jack, never Jack. And this was not what he wanted, not what he wanted at all. Swirling his coffee around it the cup, he spilled a little onto the saucer, and watched it pool at the bottom. Finally, he looked back up, unable to look Jack in the eye, he stared at the back wall of the shop.

"Look, there was an accident. I meant to tell you earlier, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I'm telling you now, because...." He leaned in closer, struggling not to appear too serious. After all, he didn't want him freaking out, not in such a public place. "Because... If I get caught, you've got to know what I did so that you can find a good alibi in case you have to testify. I did something stupid... really stupid. And if I pay for it, which maybe I will, maybe I won't, I don't want you going down on the sinking ship with me." He leaned back, and stared Jack straight in the eye. Make a choice, and please, god, please, make the right one.

[Jack Rose]

Tom turned away from Jack, and it was this, more than anything else, which made him worried – no… not worried… Jack Rose didn’t get worried he was more, what’s the word, concerned. They were both leaning on the table now, elbows and arms propped beside the cups as they were evidently attempting to keep their conversation private. Occasionally another customer looked over to the two men, possibly trying to pick up on their conversation, so Jack decided to lower his voice when he next spoke. Tom seemed to have the same idea, but Jack had never seen the man so nervous, trying to explain everything that was going on whilst, at the same time, completely avoiding the question Jack had asked and not explaining anything at all. Jack watched with his steady blue gaze, though his friend refused to look at him. Was Tom… ashamed? Embarrassed? What could he possibly be so worried about that wasn’t something he should have been worrying about for years (such as drug dealing and conning people out of their money.) The cogs and the years of psychology study started to tick in Jack’s mind as he waited, silently, as Tom babbled on about everything and nothing at all.

"Look, there was an accident. I meant to tell you earlier, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I'm telling you now, because.... Because... If I get caught, you've got to know what I did so that you can find a good alibi in case you have to testify. I did something stupid... really stupid. And if I pay for it, which maybe I will, maybe I won't, I don't want you going down on the sinking ship with me."

Finally, Tom’s dark, haunting gaze met Jack’s own crystal eyes, and it took quite a bit of energy for Jack not to just hug the nervous man. Instead, he leaned back as Tom did, but did not move his hands. Instead, he put them forward, covering Tom’s right hand and wrist with both of Jack’s own hands, and squeezing his hand lightly, and somewhat comfortingly he supposed, looking the man straight in the eye.

“I’m not going to abandon you, Tom” Jack said clearly, in his strong English accent, answering an unasked question. His voice was quiet, for Tom’s ears alone. He rubbed his thumb very lightly up and down the man’s palm as he continued to speak. “Whatever has happened, no matter what, I will help you and we will sort it out. We will sort it out, just as we sort out everything. I promise,” he assured him – for when Jack made a promise it was a promise (except when he was lying to officials then anything goes!), then let his hand slip away and leant forwards again, waving Rosmerta away with an arrogant flick of his hand as she approached to take any further beverage requests they may have. “Now,” he said slowly, trying to get to the root of this problem, (for how was he meant to find a way to make everything alright, just as he usually tried to do one way or another, if he didn’t know what the problem was in the first place), [b]“you need to tell me what happened, Tommy. Alright? I’m not going to go anywhere.”

Tom and Jack could fix anything. They were both intelligent, had managed to keep themselves away from the police, didn’t do ridiculously stupid things… and had just enough arrogance to pull off some truly incredible cons, but not so much arrogance that they ever set themselves up for to much trouble. It was like keeping a perfect balance between good appearances and bad reputations. The balance had to stay perfect, or, one way or the other, something was going to break down. Was Tom about to reveal something that could put risk to this system? Or was Jack reading too much into the man’s expression and words? What had gotten Tom so shaken…

[Tom Riddle]

Once Jack pulled away his hands, Tom wished that he hadn't, partially missing the warmth and steadiness that those two hands provided him. Especially now, now that Jack was urging him to confess to a crime that had been merely a slip of the finger. Literally. And now, they were both going to pay for it.

How strange it was... The way fate had a habit of coming around to bite you when you least expected it. And it was also strange to him that this exact same thing had happened to him, not two years before... but he had been at the opposite end of the gun. And although he had escaped when the gun failed to go off, this time around, he hadn't been so bloody lucky...

Swallowing, desperately thirsty all of a sudden, he really really wanted to cry. Not a wailing bawl like a babe in arms, but just a screaming all out fit, slamming his head into the table. How could he have let things get so out of hand? He wasn't an especially horrid man, just one trying to get by the only way he knew how. The only other profession he had enjoyed was teaching, and even that had lost its charm. Too many hopeless crushes on the students. But now that he'd finally found his niche, his charmed life, it was about to get thrown down the drain.

But not quite yet. Perhaps Jack could find a way to save them both, and quickly. After all, Jack had saved him before, and would probably be able to do it again.

"Look, it was an accident." He was quick to establish this, not wanting to cast himself as the villain too soon in the proceedings. "My finger slipped. I didn't mean to do it." He ran an exasperated hand through his hair, shaking his head and his hand shook slightly. "I was threatening him with it... and my finger just slipped. Right through..." He gestured to his forehead. "And I freaked out." Putting both his hands on the table to steady himself, he wondered what God would do to him when he died. It was a good thing he didn't believe in God, or else he would have killed himself. "And I... got him a few more times. And I ummm... put him on the creek bank. And yeah..." He wanted to die now. "And I don't know how long it'll be before someone notices that he's missing."

[Jack Rose]

"Look, it was an accident." Jack nodded and gave his friend a look that emphasised the importance that he continued, though the blond man figured that this probably was Tom trying to continue in his story but unsure of how to say it. As Tom didn’t seem to be able to speak in full sentences from his nerves, Jack knew he’d have to add up the words for himself, so he listened intently. "My finger slipped. I didn't mean to do it. I was threatening him with it... and my finger just slipped. Right through..." A gun. Tom was talking about his gun, his prized gun, the gun he had been so proud of yet never intended to use. Sure, most drug dealers used guns as a way of threatening money out of people when they didn’t pay off debts, but none of Tom’s crew had ever shot a man down… until now. It was all Jack could do to swallow down the rising bile that burnt at his throat as Tom pointed to the point in his forehead where the bullet him the other man. "And I freaked out." There was a dreadful pause, and for once, Jack Rose was at a loss for words. "And I... got him a few more times. And I ummm... put him on the creek bank. And yeah... And I don't know how long it'll be before someone notices that he's missing."

A few moments of dreadful, deafening silence surrounded Jack. Even the sounds from the café were drowned beneath his nothingness as his mind went numb. There were no plans, no thoughts or doubts. He held no resentment fro Tom nor any fear… in fact… he felt pity. He before him sat a killer, a murderer in his own right, and all Jack could do was want to hug him? Was he some sort of sick bastard or has he really, and truly, switched to the dark side. His hands came up to the table and, reassuringly, took Tom’s again. They were shaking slightly, and Jack held them firmly in his palms, trying to comfort him silently, trying to get rid of the numbness as his body absorbed the horrific information.

His thoughts came rushing back to him like a tidal wave as he squeezed Tom’s hands. It would be so easy to take out his cell phone and call the police. He could have Tom arrested and get away scott free… but he didn’t want that. He wanted to help the man and make sure the problem never, ever arose again.

Jack opened his mouth to speak, frowned, and closed his mouth again to lick his lips, thinking. Slowly, his lips parted and he tried again. “Alright,” Jack said slowly. “I think, by tomorrow, it’ll be on the news that he is missing. There will be photographs everywhere, search teams and police as far as the eye can see…” Jack coughed, looking at the table briefly before back up at his three-year friend. “So we need to hide… it,” he said, in case anyone was trying to listen in, “in a better place than beside the creek. Now… where to hide something that you never, ever want people to find…” He trailed off into thought for several moments, gaze unfocused, then a crooked smile came to his lips and he looked directly at Tom, voice getting faster now, more excitable. “Directly in front of them! That’s it! They’ll be looking so bloody hard everywhere that they will never check the most obvious place. Where do you put a dead body?” Jack questioned in hissed tones, thinking to himself almost, but allowed, just so Tom could hear. “A graveyard. A burial. As it hasn’t been on the news yet it obviously hasn’t been found yet. So… we’ll throw it in front of them and they’ll never know…” He trailed off again, and let go of Tom’s hands. “You’re going to have to do an extra shift at work tonight, a graveyard shift, no pun intended. If you dig a grave, just a normal grave, and get a stone for it, it can say anything, I’ll go get the guy and we’ll bury him.” He looked at Tom, wondering whether the guy thought he was joking. “And you’ll need to melt your weapon and bury that as well, no fingerprints. Nobody is going to dig up a grave in their right mind. He’ll never be found.”

Jack looked directly at Tom. “If we can pull this off, tonight, without being seen, nobody will ever find out.”

[Tom Riddle]

Tom was relieved. Despite Jack's rather shocked, and somewhat horrified, expression, he seemed to be taking the news well... But that didn't negate the fact that there was still a body on the creek riddled with three bullet holes, one through the forehead. While Tom was glad that Jack had reacted well, considering, he also wondered how far he could trust him. Shaking his head, unbelieving that he had even doubted Jack for a second, he was comforted by Jack's warm hands on his.

".... A graveyard. A burial... If we can pull this off, tonight, without being seen, nobody will ever find out."

Tom listened closely, nodding his head every moment or so, so that Jack would know that he was still attentative. Yeah, it all sounded good. After all, leaving the body on the river bank hadn't been the best of Tom's ideas, but he hadn't been exactly thinking right at that moment.

Shit, he was so dead, this wasn't going to work... But it seemed like a sound enough plan, and if they could pull it off, Jack was right, no one would ever find out. No one, not ever. But Tom was still practically wetting himself with fear. Shit shit shit.

Selling someone drugs and letting them kill themselves was one thing, actually shooting them was another thing altogther. God he was soulless. He hadn't thought once of the family left behind, although he was thinking of them now, all this time he had been preoccupied with himself and Jack. And it was all coming to him now.

What if the guy had a really lovely family, god forbid? What if he knew the family? What if, even worse, he was good friends with someone in the family? What if... what if? There were so many things to worry about. Burying his face in his hands, he wondered why he hadn't just stayed a god damned teacher. At least he'd still be happy. Relatively. Hell, he might even have had a cute boyfriend at this point, a little cookier cutter home, a garden. A shit load of books. A future. And now, he was rich as fuck, but no money in the world could clear him of what he'd done.

"Yeah Jack, that sounds like a plan." He tried to keep the weariness out of his voice. He felt ancient, older than he'd ever felt in his entire life. "I think that's our plan." God he didn't want to be doing this, not at all.

And the worst part of it all was: he'd gotten poor Jack involved.

[Jack Rose]

Selfishly, Jack hadn’t even considered the dead man’s family. He was to busy thinking, calculating ways to get a dead body from the water to the graveyard without being seen and without ruining his lovely car… to busy worrying about his friend – no, his best friend, the one man Jack really cared about in America – and what could happen to him if he was caught. The blond man very much doubted ‘it was an accident’ or ‘my finger slipped’ would really cut it with the police. Nobody waved a gun around to threaten a man then shot them and could pull it off as an accident, as waving a gun around in itself was illegal. Jack owned a gun, of course, hell, most of the drug dealers jack knew held guns, but he had never used it, and rarely taken it out. He had no idea of the feelings that must be rushing through Tom’s mind, but what he did know was that he had to make them better, he had to find a way to fix this and make it all alright. He had to be there for Tom whether Tom wanted him there or not.

"Yeah Jack, that sounds like a plan." He tried to keep the weariness out of his voice, and Jack nodded solemnly. Rosmerta came over to their table, having taken the initiative and bought them a tea and coffee. Jack took the tea silently, and gave Tom his coffee, and put some money in Rosmerta’s palm silently to pay for both drinks. "I think that's our plan."

“Good, then,” Jack said and stirred his tea slowly, watching it circle inside the cup. People their age shouldn’t have to deal with things like this. Jack had often wondered how his life would have gone if he had moved to America after university, just as he had, but, instead of pursuing his passion for gambling he had taken advantage of his education and became a psychologist, or some form of mathematician or accountant. He wondered what would have happened if even the remotest part of his career had ever been legal, if he had been a ‘good’ man who followed the law, perhaps things would have been different. He’d never have known Tom Riddle, the man who Jack liked to look at, liked to smell his hair when they hugged and flirt with when they met… his life would be drastically different, probably excruciatingly boring and he would, in the end, no doubt, break the law just for some excitement.

“And after that is done, and buried,” he said quietly, his accent ringing out, and he took Tom’s hand yet again, lightly, in his own fingertips, brushing them along the lines of his palm, “we can go back to my apartment, if you like, and drown ourselves in my very expensive collection of wine that can never be replaced until not only can you not think about what’s happened, but you can’t even remember your own name.” The fascinating thing was, Jack wouldn’t even care about drinking and, therefore, loosing, his very very expensive collection of wines he would never be able to get again, as long as Tom was happy… or at least… intoxicated and giddy. Jack toyed with Tom’s fingertips, brushing this thumb over Tom’s own comfortingly. “And then it will all be over.”

[Tom Riddle]

The quiet caress of Jack's fingers on his hands made him momentarily forget everything, and just the quiet murmuring of the cafe and the faint grinding of coffee beans lulled him into a moment of security, as if nothing could go wrong here. Of course, that was all blown away by the realisation that, that night, they would be engaging in some risky business, that could potentially ruin both their lives. Put a bit of a damper on the mood.

Not wanting to pull away, but needing to go prepare for the night ahead, he carefully moved his hands away, and stood up slowly. Stooping over to kiss Jack once on each cheek, like the French, he began to pull on his jacket, mind elsewhere.

"So, tonight then? Anything else you think I should tell you?"

[sorry for shortness/terribleness, and your post was awesome!]

[Jack Rose]

Jack kissed his friend on both cheeks, as Tom had started the gesture, though he had always flt the action was very peculiar. Still, he didn’t point this out. Any excuse to kiss Tom Riddle, on the cheek or otherwise, was just fine by him. He lingered, their noses touching, until after what seemed like a decade to Jack but couldn’t have been more than a second, he pulled away and Tom started getting his things together to go out. Jack did not fail to notice that the man was barely looking at him.

"So, tonight then? Anything else you think I should tell you?"

Jack stood, it was only polite, and picked up his blazer, pulling it on slowly and looking at Tom’s face. It wasn’t the most handsome man, but Jack thought he was just beautiful. He was intelligent, had a strong personality, ran an entire business, and (though Jack was probably one of the few that knew this) he was a generally caring guy. Yes, he wasn’t really a decent human being, he didn’t have the most legal of pastimes and he had just murdered a man and agreed to a plan to bury him at night in the graveyard… Tom Riddle was a good man. The best. The only, indeed… if only…

“Tonight,” Jack confirmed, “I’ll be there at midnight.” He caught the mans arm, and looked into Tom’s deep, dark eyes. He didn’t know what to do, for once, and didn’t know quite what to say, but he just looked at Tom and then – beyond anything he expected to do – pulled him into a hug. It was only brief, and the whiff of Tom’s expensive shampoo wafted into Jack’s nostrils pleasantly… but Jack enjoyed every short second of it. “I’ll be there,” he assured him quietly, and kissed his cheek again as he pulled away. “And it will be over.”

Without saying anything else, he shot Tom a small, soft smile, put some money on the table for Rosmerta and left the café. He had a dead man to find, and dead men were very good at hiding when you most wanted them to show their faces…

[If you post in the graveyard with Tom by the grave he’d done, I will post with jack :)]