Jett knelt down and gently pet the kitten as he delivered its food. She rubbed up against his leg and began her crying for attention. It had to be around five am at the time, earlier than his usual wake up time but he just couldn't sleep. He had tried to but something just kept him mind awake and busy. He felt that for some reason if he tried to sleep his head would burst and all of his compressed thoughts would flee wildly from him.
The kitten didn't mind. She enjoyed the sudden company. She followed him from the bathroom happily, walking so closely behind him he was practically kicking her. He stopped, fearing that he would, and picked her up. She kneaded his arm and purred loudly. Jett set her down on the counter top and opened the cupboards, looking for some tea and something sweet to eat. He had one of the biggest obsessions with sweet things but was too proud and embarrassed to admit it. He jumped lightly in a small and pathetic attempt to see into the high cupboards.
He frowned not being able to see anything. He looked down at the kitten and lifted it up so that it could look him in the eyes.
"I normally don't do this, but I need to make a deal with the devil, and I've been told that cats are demons. Take me to your leader." He hissed quietly as so not to wake up Deacon. The kitten only stared back at him. He carried her back into the bathroom and set her down then left her. He took the keys and his wallet. He snuck out of the apartment, feeling a rush run through him as if he was a kid again. Normally, when kids snuck out, it was to go hang out with friends. When he snuck out, it was to escape. He'd run away and be forgotten about. Unwanted and not missed. When he was a kid, he ran away often. But he had no where to go and no one to turn to. So he always came back. But a few days after is seventeenth birthday, he just couldn't take it anymore. And again he ran away. He hadn't been home since. And it was this that ran through his mind as he snuck out of the apartment trying to be as quiet as possible for the sake of his neighbors and roommate.
He made his way to his car and thought for a second. Deacon was right, it didn't do well with ice. But he didn't want to take Deac's car, at least not with out permission. He stopped to think. There was a store not too far that he could probably walk to. But the thought of the heater in the car called to him. But the fear of death pulled him away. He decided against driving and began his mile long walk just to grab something sweet. When he was half way there he pondered if he should have just gone in the morning or on an off period at school. And he wondered why he continued to walk after establishing that it would have been a smarter idea. None the less, he made it to a Walmart and then proceeded to wander aimlessly simply looking for something sweet. He couldn't make up his mind for a while and he'd have to pick out some thing either small and able to be consumed in the way home or something he could hide in his room under the bed. As much as he'd like to hide his snacks up high, he was too short and with Deacon being six feet tall the snacks would be seen and probably eaten. Besides, he could reach under his own bed with ease where as when Deacon tried he'd injure his back and neck and most of the time he gets himself stuck. So perhaps under the bed was his best choice.
He scanned the chocolate isle expectantly. Not exactly sure what he was craving. That didn't last for long. He spotted a bag of Reece's on the top shelf. He grinned and reached for them. His toes pushed him as high as they could. He reached as well as possible but they were just out of his reach. He fingertips brushed against the edge and instead of staying put like objects normally did, they slid backwards. He hissed at this and jumped, not lightly because he wasn't home, but as hard as he could. He grinned as he felt the smooth plastic get caught between his fingers and follow him back down to the ground.
He regret the jump when he hell flat on his ass because he twisted his ankle. He sat on the floor for a while. Not only had be busted his ankle, fell, and made a complete fool of himself, but he also grabbed the wrong bag. He stared at the bag of M&M's in disappointment. They were kinda close to what he wanted. He was half wanting to put them back, but the other half came up with this brilliant idea. He could get both and mix them up together. He quite liked that idea. But that required him to again try and grab the bag. And his ankle stung almost too much for him to stand alone. But he wanted Reece's. But was it worth it? He made up his mind quickly.
Jett walked slowly back home. He was smiling happily as he limped. His ankle was as swollen as a baseball and on his tooth pick of a leg it looked really funny. His hand held the bag of Reece's and M&M's together as he picked up what little he could with his other hand and tossed them into his mouth. He watched his feet carefully so that he wouldn't slip on some ice patch. He hurt enough already he didn't need any more injuries.
Most people would have been worried or eager to get to a doctor. But Jett had been through much worse. For instance, his back was covered in scars all received from the same day. Well week. He could still feel the knives and scissors digging into his flesh and the thick blood fall to the floor, running over his shoulders, sides, thighs, and legs. That whole week was filled with injuries that he'd rather forget about. His ankle was nothing compared to the scars he bore with him every day.
Deacon woke up due to a sudden spurt of inspiration. He felt so brilliant and the need to pain was so strong that he didn't even bother to throw on a pair of pants. He dragged his painting supply out from its hiding places and rushed out onto the sitting room.
"Jett! I know it's early, but I need you for something!" He loved using Jett as his model. Jett was a good looking kid. And his proportions were perfect for drawing and painting. He preferred using Jett to the wooden mannikins he bought at the store. He'd use them if he had to, or if Jett didn't want to pose, but really they were a waste. So he'd paint on them instead.
Deacon set up his canvas and ran to knock of the younger man's door. Normally Jett was up at this hour anyway, either getting ready for school or for work. He waited patiently outside the door for the other's response,"Jett?" He knocked again, perhaps his roommate just didn't hear him. Again he was greeted with silence. Only the yowling of their new cat could be heard. He jumped when he heard the front door open and close softly from the other room. He poked his head around the corner in confusion. A robbery? Did he not lock the door last night?
He relaxed when he saw Jett standing awkwardly at the door,"what's this?" He asked, pointing to Deacon's studio already set up and prepared. Deacon smiled.
"I need you to pose for me!" He darted over and pushed Jett towards the middle of the room where the now rising sun hit his side just right. Jett mumbled a small and slightly confused "ok" and followed Deacon's command.
"But I have to get to work in about an hour-"
"I just need a quick sketch. I'll get you to work on time don't you worry. Just stand over...there..." He moved Jett's limbs as if the boy was only a puppet. Jett obeyed Deacon's wants and held perfectly still. Deacon scribbled a quick and rough basis of Jett's positioning and quickly added what little features he could, mainly the way his clothes wrinkled and how Jett partially closed his eyes to the annoying sun. Once he got Jett and a few background markets done, he let Jett go and finished his sketch. He then brought it over to the canvas and removed some old paints. He covered it in a quick under coating of a soft sunset orange and yellow, keeping the bottom third a dark blue except for where Jett would be standing.
Jett dawned his uniform and name tag after taking a shower. He ran about making sure he had everything that he needed, his notepad, his med-list, and his clipboard. He spotted Deacon totally lost in the moment and tried to sneak past. Deacon focused super hard on where his hands were moving and what color they were producing. He was practically an inch away from his hand. His back ached from being arched over just to get the angle right as he painted small details that in the long run no one would notice at first, but they made the painting that much better.
It wasn't often that Jett would catch Deacon in this state of mind, and he didn't want to disturb him. He silently snuck his keys and tried to soundlessly open the door. Deacon was practically sticking his eye right against the canvas. Though he was deep in his zone, he snapped out of it hearing the swoosh of the door.
"Hey!" He shouted, turning to a startled Jett who was sneaking out into the hall way as if he had done nothing wrong. Deacon set down his paints,"where are you going?" He hissed, darting to his room to grab pants. Jett looked guiltily from the end of the hall back to the spot Deacon had been sitting,"work?"
"I said I'll drive. I don't need you dying on the way there all because I was too busy painting." He called as he stumbled out of his room while fumbling with his belt. He took his own pair of keys from the counter and followed Jett out the door.
"It's fine! The first Friday is coming up soon and I figured I'd let you finish up-"
"Nah! I need the layer to dry anyway before I continue. Besides, there's no telling if it'll sell and you're actually making garenteed money, so you come first." Deacon spat as he rushed down the stairs, now in front of Jett.
They settled down into the ice cold car. It took a bit for Deacon to get it started, but it did eventually roar to life. It slid dangerously from the parking spot out onto the road. He was glad that there wasn't any on coming traffic and slid a little more smoothly along the path provided until he met the shoveled busier streets.
"You're going to the first Friday with me again right?" He asked,"I mean, you are kinda the subject in all of my paintings and your snacks are always welcomed." He went on. He thought of the art walk held every Friday. This time of year it was nearly impossible to rent a space to hang up, display, and sell art. But for the past six months, Deacon had managed to get really nice and well visited places.
His work was seen very often, and most of the time he'd display new paintings and keep the ones he failed to sell in a crate on the ground. Then he had a stack of CDs of his own musical work. As a child, he had been interested in pianos and with supportive parents he was able to learn and preform. He was said to be a musical genius at a very young age. When he was in his teen years he began to write and compose his own songs. He loved the sounds hat the piano made, but he lived pop/rock too. So he mixed the two. It entertained him really, hearing the piano screech and cry out as if it belonged in a rock band and not some old lady's living room.
He sold his CDs every time. The elderly loved his work and thanks to Jett always dragging a few over, he never failed to sell a new disk to some one. He had a small fan group that would visit every time just to buy the newest CD. And since they were old and regular customers he gave them to them for free.
His paintings sold well most of the time and he was able to make up for the free hand outs through the profit the paintings made. But if he didn't sell enough, then his performance would help him out. The woman who owned the large studio loved to have him play the piano (though not his own original work) to help draw attention and "set the mood." She paid him enough to rent the art space and eat for the next week.
But he hated going to the event alone. There were too many people he didn't know crowding around him constantly and he'd often get lost. He enjoyed bringing Jett along. Not just because Jett was the subject in most of his paintings, but also because Jett introduced him to the art walk. Not only that, Jett had given him his pen name. His name wasn't Deacon at all. It was Draken. But Jett somehow managed to fuck that up and thus created Deacon. Since, Deacon's gone by the nickname and has signed all of his work with the name. Besides that, Jett had a good sense of direction and knew how to keep a conversation going with out it ever getting old or boring.
Jett shook his head, surprising Deacon,"I can't. I've got work scheduled rather inconveniently this time. I'll see if i can, but no promises." He mumbled. Deacon glanced over with a disappointed and sad look. Hey grinned,"I'm kidding. Yes, I'll be going. You fall for that every time."
Deacon nodded hesitantly, feeling a bit slow to have forgotten this. When he gets back home the first thing he's doing is making a pot of coffee and then going back work on the painting. He pulled up to the nursing and retirement home that Jett worked at. He gave a wave to Jett and watched to make sure the kid didn't slip again before trying to maneuver his way free from the crowded parking lot.
The car squeaked in pain and glided several feet forward and slightly to the left against its will. He wasn't sure who's car was safer anymore.
He carefully drove slowly back to the apartments, thankful that traffic was slow this early. He struggled to park, the ice wasn't very nice this morning, refusing to let him do anything but slide back out into the street. Eventually he just parked aim the side of the road a bit down the street. He marched back into the room. The kitten meowed loudly from the bathroom. He tossed his keys somewhere on the couch and went to visit the tiny thing. He didn't exactly like cats, mainly because he was allergic to their fur, but this one had a lazy eye that made it some how thirty percent cuter. She was eager to be free from the small room. As soon as he opened the door she took off running. She darted immediately for Jett's room, making herself comfortable beneath his nightstand. Deacon left the cat to do its cat things, which were basically hide and sleep, and went to finish his painting.
It wasn't too long before he was covered from fingertips to elbow in blue, orange, black, and pink paint. He had a few streaks across his face and messy sleeping shirt. He had completely forgotten about making coffee and the cat. He was more worried about how he was going to get paint out of the carpet before Jett gets home. He set his work to the side to dry int the hiding patch of sun that struggled to see past the thick layer of cloud.
He dug into the cabinet of cleaning chemicals for something he could use. He didn't want to use bleach, mainly because the carpet was a really nice tan that turned an awful pinkish-yellow when bleached and then they'd have to pay to replace the carpet. But he wasn't sure what would safely remove the acrylic paint from the carpet. He blindly grabbed what ever other bottle that was besides him and hoped that he wasn't about to make a decision he was going to regret.
He set to work on removing the paint, dampening a rag with the cleaner and scrubbing the carpet that way, just in case. He jumped when he heard his cell go off.
Did Jett just some how know? Was he in trouble? He didn't mean to make the mess! He grabbed the phone in a small fit of panic that faded for a moment only to return immediately after. He hurriedly answered.
"Evelyn?" He asked sheepishly. The woman on the other end gave a small yawn that she struggled to muffle behind her hand,"hey!" She spoke through it.
"What's up?" He went on with an oddly shaking voice. He tried to ignore the worsening mess he was making with the carpet and focus on the girl on the other end of the phone. Evelyn was a sweet girl he knew from high school back in Hawaii. They hadn't really spoken much since Deacon moved to the mainland but he never missed a call from her.
"What's up? It's been ages!" He laughed. He mentally kicked himself. Why did he laugh? There was nothing funny. In fact, the only thing funny was how the awful mess of cleaner and paint he'd probably get yelled at for later. But she didn't seem to notice his laugh.
"It has been a while huh? Well, I just wanted to say that I finally graduated! I'm on my way to being a teacher!" She called back excitedly. Deacon forgot about the mess for a moment. He sat back and leaned against the foot of the couch,"that's great! I told you that you'd could." He favored hearing her joy filled chirps as she sparked up a happy conversation if her success. He really did miss her. He thought for a moment about how he had several chances back in high school to ask her out, how badly he wanted to call her his. His heart fluttered as he repeated the question in his head.
"Yeah! My boyfriend, Phillip, is helping me get a job." She cried out. His heart stopped. Boyfriend? He was too late? It's understandable, he has been gone for six years, but to him that was hardly any time at all!
"Phillip?" He asked, fighting back the harsh hiss he held at the name. He hated the sickening pit of jealousy developing deep in his chest. He ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair with a silent sigh. He knew that they'd never end up together, no matter how much he loved her.
"Oh yeah. I'm dating a man named Phillip now. He's a really sweet guy and I couldn't be happier. Can I tell you a secret?" She whispered. He nodded, forgetting that they were talking over the phone and she couldn't see him,"sure." He mumbled after sitting in a painful and awkward silence.
"Ok, but don't tell any one, ok? Long distance pinky promise?"
"Long distance pinky promise."
She hesitated, as if to lean ode to him and even look around even though she was alone in a car at the time,"I think I'm pregnant with his kid!"
The phone slid from his fingers and hit the floor with an awful clattering. Suddenly the mess in the carpet was the least of his problems. He knew it when he did it. He never should have left. He never should have left her behind. He should have asked her out sooner. Now she pregnant with some other dude's kid. He could hardly hear her calling out to him in alarmed confusion. He stared dead ahead of him and let everything sink in. How did he mess up this bad? Where could he have done better? He knew where he went wrong, but there were so many places, he didn't want to think about the mistakes. He didn't want to think that this time he actually let her slip completely from his hands and fall into some other man's arms.
He grabbed the phone, fighting back the sudden wave of pure hatred and sadness,"sorry, that information just shocked me." The girl laughed lightly. The laugh he had heard so many times before on so many occasions used to melt his heart, now it only stabbed him.
"Oh! I almost forgot! I know how much you hate plains, but I wanted you to be at our wedding, so we're getting married in-" No! He thought as the words left her mouth, no! He didn't want to see her happy in another man's arms. Well, he wanted to see her happy, but-!
"This way, I'll get to see you on my special day! Oh! If you could show is be so happy!" He didn't know how to respond. He wanted to scream. He wanted to snap at her for hurting him like this. He wanted to tell Jett just so that he could complain to someone who's listen. But with a trembling jaw he responded with a shaky,"sure. When's it at?" He could barely hear her as the voices in his head screamed in unison in horror and panic. He mumbled an "uh-huh" after she gave him the date and place.
"Reversal is on the thirteenth, ok?"
"Sure."
"Great! See you then!" And with that she hung up, leaving Deacon alone in dead silence. The tone of the dropped call buzzed in his ear. He didn't bother to pull it away from his ear as he forced back tears. But as few slipped down his cheeks he gave in and washed away with them.
He knew that something like this would happen. Even if he had dated her, they never would have been happy together. He took some time to recover from the heart breaking news before getting up to his feet. The carpet could stay like that, he would take the lecture from Jett later. Right now, it was time for alcohol!
