Not the Holy Father

Chapter 6 "The Dark Side. Part Two"

    Michael's heart raced; he knew his friend wouldn't kiss him here, outside the house, but he was ready to prove himself if necessary. Henry pressed the young man against the stone pillar and stared into his eyes. Michael parted his lips, letting the warm air out into the cold spring night.

    - The freedom to do what is forbidden. - Henry slowly brought the cigarette to Michael's lips and left it there. He held the brunette with his free hand as if to escape, the other hand holding the lighter.

     The flame flickered and Michael inhaled clumsily. He coughed immediately and they both laughed loudly, looking back at the dark windows of the big house behind them. Then Michael tried again and again. It seemed to be working. Henry joined him and now they were both tarring with their backs against the gate of the mansion they had just escaped. Michael didn't like the process of smoking, but he liked the way Henry looked at him at that moment, sure that for the first time they were speaking the same language.

    - Does it work for me? - Michael asked naively. Henry, squinting, measured him with a disapproving look.

    - Still too good. Still too good for me. - The blond kissed Michael on the cheek and ran down the road that led from the suburbs to London.

    In that moment, they were children again, ordinary teenagers for whom there were no boundaries. The night was intoxicating, the feeling of freedom gave them wings behind their backs, as if they were flying over London, hugging and laughing. Henry stopped in front of an old building that had once been a church, but time had erased any identifying marks of faith. The building was dilapidated and dirty. The only thing that caught his eye was the sign. "Tattoo Bar." The neon letters flickered, emitting an electric hum.

    - My friends own this place. They're cool. - The blond man admonished, letting Michael through the open door. Muffled music wafted in from the back of the building and a strong smell of cigarettes wafted in as they entered.

    - Good. - The brunette replied stiffly. The feeling of flight was gone and fear took its place. Michael tried to look into Henry's face to see what had changed between them, but he didn't seem to notice the questioning looks.

    - Step Two. Making friends with those he did not expect to make friends with.

    They plunged into the half-light of the large room. Once his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, Michael began to understand what lay before him. Against the far wall, where an altar had once stood, shone an imposing bar, and behind it a wall of diamond-shaped mirrors reflecting bottles of various types of alcohol. Tables of decorative black wood lined the center of the bar in a chaotic fashion. A single staircase led to the second floor, to the tattoo room. It was both empty and crowded. The eyes of the young man, who was here for the first time, had no time to take in all the details of the interior.

    - There they are! - Henry pointed to the only group of people at a table near the bar and introduced them. They walked across the hall to them.

    Three guys and two girls. Older than them by several years. Michael felt very uncomfortable but continued to follow his childhood friend. He tried not to look at the new acquaintances, but curiosity was stronger than embarrassment. The most striking of all was a red-haired boy dressed entirely in leather. His eyes were lined like a woman's, which embarrassed Michael, who had lived in a puritanical family for sixteen years. But the redhead, a surprisingly smiling and pleasant young man, was the first to shake Michael's hand in greeting.

    - Has an angel come down to punish us for desecrating the once holy shrine? - The makeup-covered boy made a broad gesture toward the former church. - I'm Xanax, well, my name is Gavin, but everyone calls me Xanax.