Adrien #3
When the last echo dies away, I let myself fall back onto the cold stone floor, tears sliding down the sides of my face while the drugs slowly finish what they started and pull me under.
?
Cigarette smoke wakes me up.
My body processes the setting I’m in, vicious back pain shooting through my bones.
I rub my eyes open to find Kasien sitting on the floor right beside me, one knee propped up, a cigarette hanging between his fingers as he watches me with unsettling focus.
“Morning,” I croak out.
Hangover slams into my head the second I open my mouth. Morning light pours on us through the emptied windows of the church.
He furrows his brows, his face tense, as if holding something in.
I gulp, swallowing the bitter taste in my mouth as fragments of last night begin surfacing from the fog in disconnected pieces.
Voices, images, gunshots, Bryan, tears.
We hold each other’s gaze for a moment, but he doesn’t say anything.
Soon, more details from the night crawl into my consciousness and my eyes water.
So I let it out.
“She’s married,” I wheeze out, voice breaking on the last syllables.
His eyes drop to the ground, then he just silently lies down next to me, copying the desperate position he found me in. His shoulder next to mine is warm, making me realize how fucking freezing I am after spending the night here.
His hand reaches in front of me, holding out a pack of cigarettes and offering me one, so I take it.
We lie there in silence for a while.
“I know,” he says at last. “Bryan called me.”
“Right.”
Another moment of heavy silence.
As fucked up as our lives are, we still have each other, I guess.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice carrying an edge of remorse.
“It’s okay. It’s good,” I force out. “It should be good. Right?”
“Yeah. It’s good.”
Birds are chirping somewhere outside the church.
Kasien shifts slightly and turns his head toward me, so I do the same. The second our eyes meet, I see the tension in his expression. His jaw is tight and his eyes are glassy. He looks like he’s putting every ounce of effort into either not punching something or not crying. Or both.
“You scared me,” he says, his voice rough.
“What?” My brows furrow. “Why?”
“Because I found you lying here with a gun in your hand.”
I stare at him for a second before turning my head and noticing the gun still lying beside me. Then, despite everything, a bitter laugh escapes me.
I shrug. “I just passed out.”
“Idiot,” he states lazily, turning away from me.
“I’ve been told,” I mumble, taking a drag.
Time drifts by after that. Neither of us feels particularly motivated to move. Eventually, the first streak of sunlight breaks through one of the windows I generously renovated last night and lands across us, finally bringing some warmth back into my frozen body.
“So what now,” I say. “What do we do?”
Kasien looks back at me, our eyes meeting in that telepathic bond we share. The look roughly translates to something like no idea.
“There were windows the last time I found you here,” he says, glancing around the church.
“Yeah. The saints saw me trying to jerk off here so I had to get rid of them,” I explain.
He bursts out laughing, slowly getting to his feet and holding out a hand to help me up, so I take it.
“Can you drive?” he asks.
“Yeah. Just give me a second,” I say, holding my head and trying to ride out the headache.
“Let’s go get a coffee,” he says.
“No.” I grip the bridge of my nose. “Actually, let’s go to Velvet.”
He stares at me for a long second. “Why?”
“I’m officially ending this damn celibacy,” I announce.
He just shrugs. “Fine. Let’s go.”
We stumble out of the church together. I find my helmet lying in the grass, put it on purely to protect myself from daylight, and a few minutes later we’re back on the road, leaving the church behind.
?
I descend the stairs into the VIP section only to find the club half empty with music blasting in the background. It’s early in the morning. No one is here except a bartender and three girls working their shift.
All of them fix their gaze on me when I take a few steps toward the bar. I know them all. They know me as well. I’ve gotten hammered in this club far too many times, but I’ve never once made use of their special services.
I can’t believe I’m actually doing it right now.
I stop in front of the bar and glance from one girl to another, trying to decide which one will do the most damage and which one will be easiest to turn into my fantasy.
Eventually, I approach the youngest one, the same girl who has already tried her luck with me a few times.
Dark hair, tall, nice boobs, freckles.
That could work.
I pull a few hundred-dollar bills from my wallet and slide them into her cleavage, earning a knowing smile.
“Finally,” she says with a smirk.
“Listen,” I tell her, exhaustion and the hangover still clinging to me. “This is probably going to be embarrassingly quick. It’s been three years.”
She giggles and takes the money. “No problem.”
“Don’t talk and don’t kiss me,” I continue.
She lifts her eyebrows. “Fine.”
“But I like to cuddle,” I add.
Her smile widens.
“Cute,” she states. “Let’s go.”
She grabs my hand and leads me away.
We walk through the halls and everything seems to be turning into slow motion. I can’t decide what’s more pathetic about my life—
This?
Or the fact that for the last three years I actually thought I’d somehow make it back to her.
Of course I won’t.