Reaper's Touch

Gus: Quitting

"Despair is the damp of hell."
- John Donne

Gus's heart was heavy as he opened the familiar glass door of the tattoo shop. The morning after he visited Lucas, he was already up before dawn and set his path here to do the sad thing he had been planning to do since getting out of the hospital. He hadn't been back to work since Jeff died, but Ethan asked him to come in today.

"Hey, Gus," Ethan said, giving him a hug. "Come to my booth. Let's chat."

They were the only ones here. The shop wasn't even open yet. Usually this was when Jeff would say he was hungry, and he would give Gus his credit card and let him run across the street to McDonalds to get breakfast for everyone. He'd always felt so proud of holding that credit card, of returning with the receipt to show Jeff that every penny was accounted for. It had meant that Jeff trusted him, that he was worthy of such trust.

On a normal day, there would be breakfast. On a normal day, music would be playing. Jeff liked 80's hair bands, and the other artists always gave him shit for it. On a normal day, there would be conversations and laughter.

Today, there was silence.

Gus sat down on the tattooing table and Ethan sat across from him.

"I know. I'm fired," he said flatly.

Ethan looked surprised. "What? No. I don't want to fire you. I just wanna help. You relapsed, huh?"

Gus nodded.

"You're high right now, aren't you?"

"How'd you know?" Gus mumbled.

"Your pupils. They're huge."

Gus blinked a few times, now hyper aware of his eyes. "Oh."

"And I know why you're high. It's because you're hurting."

Nod.

"I understand that. I really do, Gus. You think I haven't been tempted? This is probably the hardest I've had to fight my addiction since getting clean," Ethan said.

"What are you doing to stay sober?" Gus asked.

Ethan laughed softly and picked up a nearby stack of papers, flipping through them. "Drawings, business plans, financial shit... all this trash. Distractions."

"Whatever works for you I guess," Gus said with a shrug.

"I want us to go to NA today. Together," Ethan said fervently.

"What about the shop?" Gus asked.

He shook his head dismissively. "It's mine now. I can close it for an hour if I want."

"Really? Jeff left this place to you?" Gus asked.

"Hence, my distractions," Ethan said, nodding at the pile of papers. "Jeff didn't have kids of his own, and I've known him for a really long time. He was like a father to me. He told me awhile ago it would be mine someday, just didn't think it'd be so soon."

"Nice. That's good... for you," Gus said.

Ethan was quiet, like he was waiting for Gus to say more. When it became clear that he wasn't going to, Ethan said,

"So, NA? Yes?"

Gus looked past him at the row of empty booths across the aisle.

"I don't think so," he said slowly.

Ethan sighed. "Gus, you can get past this."

"Past what?"

"Jeff's death. The grief. It'll get easier."