A Work of Art

Maintenence Required

Reikas' eyes opened. He looked around, immediately recognizing the small room wits posters hiding the holes in the walls and the familiar amenities. He was back home, somehow. The softness of his bed and blankets helped him focus on a feeling besides the aching pain of his arm. With a deep breath, Reikas tried moving his arm. He was able to lift it just slightly before a shooting pain forced it back into bed. Reikas felt a gentle hand on his chest along with a whisper.

"Hey, hey... don't move it. You don't wanna fuck it up even more."

"...hi, Eden." The soft smile from his cyber-obsessed friend was a sight for sore eyes. It felt like ages since someone had looked at him without any sort of malice. It didn't take long for the sense of relief to transform into confusion. "How did I get home? How's my arm? Is Seraphim okay? Did-"

His inquiries were hushed by Eden. "One at a time. Your arm is... pretty bad. Honestly, I'm surprised you can move it at all. I don't know if you'll be able to play the piano again." They let out a nervous laugh, their anxiety only worsening when there was no reaction. "Right, not a great time for jokes, I'm sorry."

"Was that even a joke? Am I just gonna be a cripple now, or?"

"W-well, maybe not," Eden mumbled, rubbing the back of their head. "There's always artificial replacements, though I know you don't like those. But there's also some good hospitals nearby. And I think that one bill President Orthel signed finally went into effect, so you should just be able to walk in with your insurance card and-"

Reikas rolled his eyes. "What insurance? You remember the thing with my dad."

"Oh... yeah, that's right. Maybe you could use my insurance?"

"Oh, great idea. That won't look suspicious at all. They won't see it as fraud, no sir."

Eden thought for a moment. "Well.. what are you gonna do? I know you think cyber stuff makes you less of an artist or whatever, but what good is an arm like that for art?"

He turned on his side, looking away from Eden. "...go away, Eden. Just leave me alone. Let me rest for two minutes. I know my arm is messed up. That's a problem for me later."

Pinching the bridge of their nose, Eden exhaled deeply. "Rei, I'm trying to help you. But you don't know how exhausting it's been lately. I'm the one who has to bail you out when your stupid stunts go wrong. I'm the one who has to console you after you fuck up. I'm the one who has to physically pick you up and drag your ass home after you finally dick around with the wrong people after so many warnings. And this is the thanks I get?"

The artist sat up in bed slowly, letting their useless arm hang limp as they rose. "Do you think it's been easy for me either? I go out to make a name for myself AND put my neck on the line for rent money. Police want me, dealers want me, everyone wants me and not in the way I'm aiming for. I feel like a fucking nobody. Like I'm just some Joe Schmoe chess pawn that's just... indistinguishable. One that everyone hates." Tears well up in his eyes as he wipes the snot from his nose. "The person who did this to me was apparently a big fan. I had an actual fan, and guess what? I said her outfit was dogshit. I insulted her, I killed her. I fucked up the only actual fan I had, and now I'm ruining things with you, and I just..."

Words failed to come out of Reikas' mouth. Instead, open sobs came pouring out as Eden's stern gaze melted. They wrapped their arms around him gently, playing with his hair. "Shhh. It's okay. I got you. Do you... remember May 17th, 2173?"

"O-of course. We made that promise. Behind that one club, Kaleidoscope..."

"I meant every word I said there. And I know you did too. You were there for me when I needed you. Let me be there for you too."

Hours passed. There was no words exchanged between the two, as there was nothing to say. The sounds of the two crying followed by the growing silence said more than any combination of words ever could. It was Eden who eventually broke the quiet.

"...I have a question. How did you manage to text me with your arm so messed up? You aren't the kinda person to have a high pain tolerance." Reikas' confused face prompted them to hold their phone up. There was indeed a message from a Reikas.

"hi eden. i need help. bring some painkillers and first aid stuff please. thank you. love you."

The artist smiled, although even he wasn't sure if it was forced or genuine. He plopped back into bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Maybe... just maybe, there was a way to salvage all this.

"Heh. I guess an angel sent it."