Finding August | ✓ [SAMPLE]

Chapter 1

Vincent's head was pounding when he woke up the next morning. He'd never opened up the tattoo parlor the previous day, and he'd wasted his time drowning his sorrows in cheap alcohol instead. The alcohol consumption always resulted in an irritant version of Vincent that ignored all his phone calls, a version that snapped at anyone who mildly annoyed him, and the version that bawled like a baby when no one was around.

He rolled about in bed, the spacious feel still foreign to him. He missed the feeling of August holding onto him in the early hours of the morning. He missed the feel of August's soft breathing fanning his neck.

Vincent grimaced, his mind only recently registering the taste of alcohol in his mouth. He forced himself to get out of bed, staggering a little until he got on his proper footing.

He headed to the bathroom, hastily washing his mouth and face before wandering back into the bedroom. The sun was already making its presence through the bright yellow light rays that penetrated through the window blinds. Vincent looked up at the clock that hung at the side of the door to find out it was already nine in the morning. He used to be a much earlier bird, but somehow things had changed since August left.

_

"Don't touch me," August whined as he threw the bed sheet that served as a cover cloth over himself in an attempt to block out Vincent's nudging and words that demanded that he woke up.

Vincent grinned at him, crawling back into bed to cuddle up behind August. August sighed in content, wiggling backward so he was pressed up against Vincent.

"Now isn't this nice... Vincent, no! Stop!" August screeched, rolling off the bed and onto the floor. Vincent had resorted to an all-time low by tickling him.

"Are you awake now?" Vincent asked chuckling as August tried to untangle from the covers that he'd somehow gotten trapped in a human sausage roll.

"Very mature of you," August said sarcastically as he sat up. Vincent chuckled, scooting over to the edge of the bed to run his hand through August's curly hair as his boyfriend muttered more words of disapproval.
_

Vincent shook his head at the memory. Everything seemed to remind him of August.

He cleaned up after himself to keep the thoughts and the longing away. He had a lot to do seeing as he was relatively messy when he was drunk.

He took a bath and had a small breakfast before heading down the flight of stairs that lead to his tattoo parlor after he was done cleaning up. He unlocked the door and drew up the blinds of the windows as he tried to ignore the banging in his head that was an aftermath of the hangover. He could tolerate missing work once, but twice was just going too far. He didn't want to have any reason to be short of rent money, and his landlady wasn't very patient when it came to rent.

He sat about idly after opening up. No one had made an appointment for today but he'd missed a handful yesterday. He hadn't even called to give them a reason for his absence and reschedule. His brain wasn't just in the mood to care about his lousy service at the moment.

The bell above the entrance door chimed, alerting Vincent that someone had come in. He turned to find his best friend, Chuck, in a worn-out bumper jacket and blue jeans. Vincent rolled his eyes, returning his attention to his needle kit.

"I came to check up on you. I noticed you didn't open yesterday, and that you weren't picking up my calls," Chuck announced as he walked up to his friend, peering over his shoulder to watch him fondle with his needle set.

Vincent shrugged. "I wasn't feeling too well," he stated bluntly as if that was enough of an explanation.

"Don't give me that rubbish," Chuck said, pulling out one of the many empty chairs to sit on. He knew Vincent too well to believe his half-thought-out lie. Things like being sick didn't stop Vincent from working. More times than not Chuck had to be the one to stop Vincent from killing himself when he thought he could take up the flu and work at the same time. He'd only succeeded to keep him away from the tattoo parlor when it happened after a series of pleading.