It's early. People are still at work - well, people that aren't Blade, people that don't make a living getting others wasted. When he gets to the Badger, the windows are dark behind the ratty curtains.
Mårtensson used to let Feliciano sleep in the pantry in exchange for cleaning services. He hasn't been on duty for years - but whatever. Details.
The door creaks when he opens it. It's not technically trespassing if you have a key.
Feliciano helps himself to a six pack from the pantry and saunters into the dark bar, propps himself on the counter and surveys the empty room. It looks better in the dark, mostly because you can't actually see how horrendous the furniture is.
It's Wednesday, so the chances of Blade coming in would normally be one in five. But nowadays... He'll come. Everything else aside, he really can't afford not too.
But there's still time. Maybe Feliciano will have made up his mind by then. Maybe he will let Blade punch him again, somebody probably should.
The beer tastes even more bitter than usual. He's always been more of a wine person, but alcohol is alcohol and free stuff is free stuff and so on. Well, this little stunt does come with it's own price tag, but whatever. Details.
Darkness falls outside, the sky turning into a murky black, hiding the moon behind thick clouds. The light bulbs flicker, the one in the hallway makes a pop and goes out.
Feliciano takes another swig. Blade's gonna love that.
He's surrounded by darkness, except for the flimsy lights that's all Blade can afford. It has its own aesthetic and it suits Feliciano. Like he's the last person on earth, the only one left after the apocalypse.
If only. He's had enough of people, which is unfortunate since he's also the most extroverted person he ever met. And he's met a lot of people.
The front door creaks open. A pause.
"Mother fucker, not again."
There's rustling of clothes, while Blade most likely hangs the jacket that's falling apart at the seams, the one that's not suited for degrees below zero but that he still sports the entire winter. It's not even rock n roll, just some crappy puffer jacket that must have been at sale fifteen years ago. Oh, how Feliciano itches to dress him in something that accentuates his wide shoulders.
Blade grunts and mutters while he stumbles through the dark hallway. A bang when he slams into what is probably the coat rack -
"Fucking hell!"
Feliciano takes another swig, looks out the windows.
Listens to the footsteps venture closer, the voice getting clearer. Feels eyes on the side of his face.
Feliciano takes another swig.
This is it. He'll let Blade punch him, hopefully it'll make him snap out of it. Of whatever this bullshit is.
He thought that he'd be crushed when Jamie inevitably left, but he feels... nothing. Just a whole lot of nothing. And that's the worst part. Shouldn't Jamie affect him more? Shouldn't Feliciano be bawling on the floor?
Maybe Jamie was right. Maybe he didn't love him as much as he thought.
Blade strides into the room, goes behind the counter, as if it was thirteen years ago and this was normal, expected. There's clicking when he starts taking care of dirty glasses from the night before.
Feliciano takes another swig. Talking is dangerous. It'll only break the spell, the one that lets them pretend.
Blade stalks into the kitchen and Feliciano takes another - huh. Empty. He shakes the can, but only a drop comes out.
YOU ARE READING
Unbreakable smile
General Fiction"You can't even say her name out loud. You know what that reminds me of? Freaking Voldemort." Feliciano thinks of what people said after That Night. What they still are saying. He stands. Jamie looks like he wants to take the words back. "Love-" "...
