Chapter 6
True Oblivion
Kian
He had absolutely no doubt that his head was going to be a mess come morning.
As Kian rolled over and faced the light slanting through the blinds at his bedroom window, he proved himself correct.
The pounding at his temples was so bad it was nearly blinding. He felt like someone had dismantled his head during the night and stuffed in a bunch of barbed wire and broken glass. He shifted and all that shit up there in his brain moved around, poking and prodding wickedly with every single breath and blink.
His eyes felt grainy, like someone had thrown sand in them and rubbed it around for good measure. His mouth… yuk. His mouth was sour, the kind of disgusting bitter mix that told him he’d probably vomited some time during the night.
Kian slowly rolled out of bed. His stomach heaved with the effort and his head protested the movement with a blinding intensity. He ground his teeth against the pain and stumbled into the bathroom.
Over the years he’d learned that there were few hangovers a good cold shower couldn’t fix. He emerged ten minutes later, feeling a little more human. The fog in his brain was lifting, impossibly slowly, but clearing all the same. He recalled bits and pieces of the night before.
The cab ride home from his and Fiacco’s club. The ground had just rose up to meet him and then everything was black. He recalled her face. The face of an angel come to save him from his own personal hell. He recalled wide, huge blue eyes, long, fine blonde hair that hung around her face like a halo. Her scent. That’s what stayed with him. She’d smelled good. Delicate. Like fresh air, like the countryside would.
Damn it. He remembered, with painful clarity, how she’d helped him up when he’d finally come back into consciousness. He’d ejected up half of what he’d drank or more right on the sidewalk that their units shared. She’d walked him into his place and made him promise he wasn’t going to die.
Can it get any worse?
As Kian dressed, pulling on a fresh pair of jeans and a clean black t-shirt with the shop logo in red on the front, he weighed the odds of dying from humiliation when he stepped out the door. Maybe he’d make it if he never ran into her again.
He didn’t even know her name. Not her first. Not her last. He knew her face and from what he remembered, it was stunning. Her eyes, aside from being the most beautiful shade of blue he’d ever encountered, were kind. She could have looked on him with fear, revulsion, disgust, judgment, pity. Instead she’d just looked worried. Worried and compassionate. Since he’d tattooed his neck, chest, completed his sleeves and most of his back, people didn’t exactly look on him with anything akin to kindness. He was the kind of guy most people crossed over to the other side of the street to avoid.
By the time Kian caught a cab to the club where he picked up his bike and drove to the shop, his head was a splitting mess. He had a bottle of pain killers in his cabinet. Nothing strong, just over the counter shit. He’d never dabbled in drugs and that included most of the prescription kind. He only ever went to the doctor when he’d just about die otherwise.
Mike entered the private room quietly, slipping in behind Kian. He knew the guy was there, because- well, the guy was always there. He was there drawing, tattooing, sleeping, even making meals for himself in the staff room like he didn’t have a life. He sometimes worked on oil paintings. One time he even tried to set up his damn pottery wheel and kiln in the back. It made such a mess, Kian promptly had it removed.
He turned at the same time he slammed back two pain killers and swallowed them without the aid of water. “Mike. Why are you here two hours before we open? What about Savannah? Doesn’t she ever stay the night and stay long enough to make you late?”
Mike’s eyes shifted to the floor and Kian instantly knew that of all the things he could have come up with, that one was about the worst.
“Shit. Man, what happened?” He reached out and clapped Mike hard on the shoulder. He was just shy of six feet and naturally athletic. He had the streamlined look of a guy who didn’t need to work out or bother to eat right, though he knew Mike just happened to be a Vegan. He was just over thirty and was tattooed from stem to stern, including his neck, hands, knuckles and other highly public areas, but for some reason people intrinsically trusted him. Maybe it was his eyes. They were dark brown, like his closely cropped hair. He had a genuine kind of smile too, soft and real sweet.
“She dumped me,” Mike said flatly. He also had the kind of voice that was always moderate. Never quiet or loud. It gave the impression of instant understanding, like Mike was the kind of guy who actually listened.
Kian made it a personal rule never to allow himself to get close to anyone. That didn’t exactly work with Mike. He’d count the guy as his best friend, if he could go that far. They didn’t do typical guy shit. They didn’t hang out after work. There was just something about Mike that Kian instantly trusted. Mike talked to him too, about everything. Mostly art, but about personal problems as well. So far Kian hadn’t returned the favor.
“Why?” Kian didn’t bother beating around the bush. He finally got out of his own head enough to realize that Mike’s eyes were blood shot, probably from lack of sleep. His normally cheerful features were pinched. He hid it well. It was only because Kian had known the guy for a couple years that he could tell there was something wrong at all.
“Dunno. Does anyone really know?” Mike shrugged. “I know she’s just with me because she’s in love with you anyway.”
Kian nearly choked. “Come on, man. That’s not true.”
“It is and we both know it.” The words were flat, non-emotional, but it took a great deal of effort to spit them out that way.
He sighed, long and hard. His head felt like it was going to explode and his stomach burned its way up his throat. “It might be true, but I’ve done nothing to encourage it. I’ve taken every opportunity to actively discourage it. She’s always had this ridiculous crush on me. I’m older. Inappropriate. Her father’s business partner.”
“Don’t forget fucked up.”
The laugh that broke free of his throat sent another pain shooting through his head. “True. Anyway, I don’t think she’s with you just because she wants to be around me. She has every reason to come to the shop. She knows I won’t make her leave because of who her father is. She’s his little messenger anyway.”
“The damn guy never uses a phone.”
“No. He doesn’t trust them. He barely does anything online either. He hates paper trails.” Smart. Very smart. “She could come pretty much anytime she wants. Just has to make up an excuse. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. I thought she meant it.”
Mike snorted. “Who the hell knows. Savannah is her own woman. She told me that straight up when I asked her why she was with me.”
“You actually asked her that?”
“Yah. I accused her of being in love with you.”
“That was not smart. No wonder she dumped you.”
“If it’s true then I didn’t want to continue it. I was investing myself in her, my time, my feelings. It’s not easy.”
“Savannah Fiacco has had everything handed to her for her entire life. Of course she’s not easy. She’s about as high maintenance as they come, but I believe she has a good heart. Her parents are good people when it comes right down to it. They raised her in love as much and as often as they threw money at her.”
“She’s a spoiled brat.”
“She’s way too young.”
“I know. I fooled myself into thinking it didn’t matter. Ironically she called me a child last night before she said it was over.”
“Well… jealousy is pretty unattractive.”
“Fuck you.”
“Well deserved.” Kian sighed. The throbbing in his head was starting to subside as the pills went to work. “What are you going to do now?”
“Do?”
“To make it up to her.”
Mike slowly crossed his arms over his chest. “Why the hell would I want to do that? She said it was over. I’m not going to go after her and beg her to take me back.”
“You won’t have to. She’ll come around. She’s young, like I said. Youth comes with a certain amount of excitement and invincibility, but people also make mistakes. They hurt others and they hurt themselves. You’re a good guy, Mike. You’ve been with her for six months. Even got a couple invites to the Fiacco house for dinner. That says something to me. They don’t extend that kind of invitation lightly.”
Mike slowly nodded. “Yah… well… just wanted to let you know. Do me a favor. If she makes a pass at you, turn her down.”
“Are you kidding me? Get out of here.” Kian shot Mike a look that wasn’t exactly hard. Mike knew where he stood. It was pretty damn apparent he wasn’t exactly the relationship type. He wasn’t the anything type. People could just tell that he was damaged goods. Not good for anything or anyone.
“I have a drawing to finish anyway,” Mike mumbled. He shuffled out of the room, his high top runners making little squeaking noises on the black and white tiled floor that annoyed Kian on a good day.
Once Mike was out of the room, he took a deep breath and braced himself for the coming day. He wished he could cancel his appointment, or better, that the guy would be a no show, but he figured there wasn’t a good chance of that. Not when his wait list was just about a year long.
Most artists didn’t book more than a couple months in advance so they could actually have a life. He didn’t care. Heather booked as many clients with him as he could take. He was amazingly efficient in his work. Even if Mike was a better artist, he could churn people out at double the rate and his work was still astounding and high in demand.
Who cares if I’m booked up for a year? Kian’s eyes slowly moved about the room, taking in his tidy area. The inks lined up on the shelves, the two beds, both folded flat, his stands, his locked cabinet where he stored all his equipment. This place was his home. His wait list could be ten years long for all he cared. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do with his time.
Some people waited. Waited for the next big thing, worked towards success, towards love, towards a family, towards meaning. Others just existed, gliding through life, barely surviving. Him… he was just waiting for that day when he’d finally find true oblivion and the pain that he lived with would finally be at an end.