Calvin grabbed the strap of his faded red duffle bag with his throbbing, bruised knuckles. His knuckles were green, purple, yellow and red, the pain throughout his hands was so intense it was practically numb. The household was stuffy from all the cigarette smoke and filled with nothing but the sound screaming, thumps in the walls and floors and the sounds of kitchen items crashing and breaking. Calvin felt his heart race at a million miles an hour, he knew he had to escape. He ran out the practically empty room, running down the stairs (which were covered top to bottom in broken glass and dirty clothing), and reached towards the front door. Just as he was about to turn the handle, a firm arm grabbed his shoulder.
"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" It was his brother, Bentley. Calvin stared blankly at him, not answering. "You think you can just up and leave for a few weeks again? You think you can pop a pill and make a quick escape? That's not how the world works." Bentley's voice started off calm but has escalated into a more harsh and delusional tone. Calvin stared again for a few seconds, then proceeded to kick Bentley so he fell backwards, opened the door and ran. "I hope you're happy about what you've done Calvin! You better hope to god that you haven't killed your own fucking mother!" Bentley screamed, their younger brother, Gustavo, holding him back. "He's gone Bentley." Gustavo sighed.
Calvin ran for as long and as far as could, trying to block out any thoughts of home. He had his mind set on his destination, nothing else. His weak legs somehow continued to carry him as he pushed himself to keep going, his feet were numb and his knuckles still bled. He finally stopped when he hit downtown. The sun was setting and the sky was a mixture of pale and dark blues, the lights were coming on everywhere and the area was coming to life. The darker it got, more and more cars and people stared to show. More noise could be heard, music was starting to blare and the neon sign that Calvin was looking for lit up. 'Club Raven'
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Calvin took off his jacket, not caring about the bruises that covered his arms like a tattoo sleeve. Nobody would notice from inside, everyone was always so fucked up and the lights were always such an intense shade of blue, that there was no was his practically matching marks would stand out. He slipped his bag over his shoulder and made his way inside. Calvin was stopped by security was usual, his baby face never fooled anyone, but his fake ID did. He felt the adrenaline rush through him yet again, a new feeling had hit upon him at this point. Curiosity. Calvin loved going to Club Raven, it was his escape. There were so much to get lost in; music, people's life stories, his made up life stories, the atmosphere, strange behaviour, drugs and many more things. Every time he went there he felt like he had broken off a part of him and thrown it away. Reality was warped at this certain night club, and every little detail was very interesting, sometimes fascinating to him.
This particular evening, Calvin was very interested in one thing in particular. He pushed through the crowd to sit on his reserved bar stool and examine the new bartender. Damien, owner of Club Raven and good friend of Calvin's, approached him to say hello.
"Calvin, it's been too long man. What's up?" Damien asked. Calvin did his little handshake with him and shrugged. "No talking much today, huh? Well, what can I do for you today bud?" Calvin signalled to the new bartender. "Oh, that's our new bartender, Niall. I should introduce you both. Hey Niall!" The blonde man finished serving a customer and then made his way over. "What's up?" He asked.
Calvin instantly started taking mental notes down, trying to work out what kind of person he might be. 'Exchange student from the UK who owns a boat' was his first thought, judging by the accent and the shirt he was wearing, which had little anchors on it. He looked at Niall's hair. 'He probably wanted to be a prostitute, but his parent's mansion was located in a nice part of London where prostitutes don't exist, so he moved here to become a bartender. He'll probably end up a prostitute just as he always dreamed.' Calvin though. He was so deep in though that he didn't notice Damien shaking him.
"Calvin? Are you alive man?" Damien asked. Calvin nodded. "Sorry." He mumbled. "Haha, it's alright. But as I was saying, this is Niall." Calvin awkwardly shook his hand. "I'm Calvin." He said, mentally kicking himself for stating the obvious. "I'm Niall," Niall replied, half smiling. "Nice to meet you." "You two should talk sometime, I know you'd get along well. I'll leave you to work, Niall." Damien smiled. Calvin turned towards Damien. "What'd you think?" Damien asked, scratching his fluffy black hair, causing a storm of dandruff to fall. "He's so white, I think I just turned black. Also, he looks rich, automatically making him a total asshole." Calvin commented. "Hey, don't be so quick to make judgements. I know what you're like Calvin. But give Niall a chance, I assure you that you'll get along well." Damien said, before getting pulled aside by some random person.
Calvin turned back around and sighed. Yuka, that other bartender approached him. Her hair was now dyed as blue as the light that filled the room, a major change from last month's bright orange. She wore her usual glowing neon yellow and blue leather jacket and matching neon pink skirt. "What will it be?" She asked eagerly. "I don't know, a bottle of gin or something?" Calvin replied. Yuka a pulled a small bag out of her jacket pocket. "How about... ecstasy?" Calvin hesitated slightly, but he hated saying no to such a vibrant smile. He sighed and gave in, passing her a generous $50.00. "Thank you very much, you won't be disappointed Calvin. I promise." "I better not be." He muttered.
