Kailan hadn't really been expecting it.
He was unsure what to say, a long stretch of silence seemed to follow them—suspended over their heads like a metaphorical rain cloud. They stared in stillness for a spell, neither sure how to react.
Kailan was the one to break the trance, laughing and closing his eyes as he looked away. "You suck at this." It was a shallow laugh that left his breath, but the humor was superficial. Rising to his feet, he avoided stepping on Vinny and held out a hand to help him up. "Though with practice, I'm sure you'll get better."
One might not see it, but Kailan was shaken by the incident. Some overwhelming urge in his stomach suggested something toward Vinny. Feelings, or at least an attraction. An anxious dread held him by the throat, and he found it hard to swallow. But Kailan kept it all concealed; on the outside, he just chuckled and gave his friend a lopsided grin.
Vincent pressed his tongue to his teeth and let out a surly sigh, reclining in a nearby chair. He was winded and pained, and a little unnerved by the exchange. He pinned it on the strange dream he'd had. Dreams always had a habit of fucking with his head. It'd fade in a day or so.
A hand hooked his nape, quieting the goosebumps on his neck and he let his head hang low with a big gusty sigh. He hoped it would fade, at least.
Gigi looked quite upbeat as she sashayed onward to invade his personal space once more. She held a dainty paw to her mouth, stifling her uncontrollable laughter.
"What?" Vinny scorned as she took the seat next to him, throwing him a sheepish grin.
"Nothing." Her lips cracked into a smirk and she cocked her head impishly. "It's just absolutely hilarious seeing you so flustered."
Vincent raised a brow. "Flustered?"
"Oh, Vinny," she sighed and crossed one long, appealing leg over the other. "You're a laugh."
It wasn't the prying he minded. Someone was always in his business—that was the life that happened to come complimentary with Johnathan's shiny little mansion. But Gigi was starting to piss him off. She knew something he didn't and she was dead set on dragging him along in the most excruciating ways, until the cat was out of the bag. He'd had enough. He ejected from his seat and took her by her wrist. She seemed almost pleased by the gesture, struggling to stay upright in her heels as he towed her alongside him.
"Kai," he called over his shoulder. "I'll be home late tonight."
The words were vague, and their meaning easily misconstrued, but he was too angry to go into details.
"Where exactly are we going?" Gigi cooed, nearly choking back laughter as Vincent dragged her along.
"Somewhere without witnesses." Vinny gave her a push through the doors, and disappeared behind her without so much as a second glance in Kailan's direction.
"Alright," Kailan muttered, but by the time he'd gotten the words out, Vinny was gone.
It was a strange thing he was feeling. Something negative and nauseating. He sighed and gathered his things, hoping to make it home before the evening rush. There was no need to stick around any longer.
"Kailan, you okay?" April asked, her voice smaller than she was.
Kailan turned and looked down at the petite girl. "Of course, I think I just need some air." He fastened on his coat, quick to leave the warehouse behind him. April called after him, but he ignored the worry in her voice. He couldn't help but feel anxious, if not agitated.
He wasn't quite sure where he was headed; Vinny wielded the only set of keys to the dorm. But hell, it was Seattle. The city had a lot of distractions, he was sure to find something.
Cabs were money-gluttons, so instead he walked out in the chilly air; headphones in his ears and the volume so loud he'd be deaf by forty. It was funny. Usually he hated loud noises. Today, they seemed the only thing to calm his nerves.
As he sighed, he watched the vapor ascend before him. Winter was coming, and the streets were crowded with scarves and downy jackets. There seemed to be a lot of bustle, despite the fact that it was as mundane a night as Wednesday evenings could be.
It wasn't the largest of cities, but Seattle was always busy; tourists fluttering about, asking for directions to Pike's Place; teenagers littering the town with their archaic 'hoodlum' shenanigans; and adults enjoying a drink away from their spouses. Every day, the place seemed to be bringing back more and more memories.
There was an abandoned building he used to run off to with Vinny all the time. Each week there was fresh graffiti—beautiful stuff, littered from the floor to the ceiling, and canvasing every corner and shattered window pane. He'd see if it was still there, and maybe this time he'd add his own style to the mix.
He cut the street, racing across stilled traffic. He couldn't remember the directions, but he had all the time to wander. He traveled along a shopping district, the scent of roasted coffee beans somehow managing to warm the chilly air. But as the life of the city started to fade behind him, he felt someone grab onto his shoulder and he spun around, pulling out an earbud. Two strangers leered over him with mischievous grins.
"You need something?" he asked, looking them over.
They were probably in their mid-twenties, stinking like cheap marijuana. Just a couple of assholes who wanted a fun time, Kailan thought.
"You look lonely, come have a drink with us!" one of them said, a lanky redhead with the face of a weasel. But before Kailan could refuse, they steered him away. They didn't lead him to any bars but instead herded him into a small parking lot in the back of an old gaming plaza, where oil spilled in sprawls of color on sticky black-top. Had they wanted to play games? But as Kailan thought about it, he felt a prickle on his nape. A sixth sense. Nothing about this place was right; they would have taken him in the front entrance if their intention was frolicking around with teenagers in a retro-themed arcade.
"Yeah, as fun as I'm sure you are, I think I'm gonna pass." Kailan said, turning to take his leave. Then the men blocked his path.
"Sorry, Wicked." The redhead smiled.
Suddenly, the other man was walking toward Kailan, reaching out with a fist bigger than his head. He turned to run, but the man lunged with his long, burly fingers. They caught him by the throat, whipping him forward with a defiant momentum.
He fought against the fist clamping down on his windpipe, but the man was hulking, just like Jason. He dragged Kailan back with this smothering grip, like a dog by the fur on his neck. The only thing he could do was grip at the man's wrist and support his own weight enough to writhe for oxygen.
The oil spill on the ground made it difficult to catch his footing, and Kailan was nothing more than a bag of luggage wheeled across the tarmac. He felt himself being lifted, his lungs crushed of air as he was met with a brick wall. The iron claws around his throat began to squeeze, and he could feel the pressure building in his skull. His eyes watered, and he clawed at the hand that constricted him, gasping for breath as his vision clouded with mats of prickly darkness.
Then he heard the quick click of a switchblade.
"What the hell is your problem?" Vincent looking Gigi down with a glisten of malice. They stood behind a public park, the only noise aside from his vexing voice was the soft wisp of autumn leafs, whirled about in erratic dances as they made their decent to the pavement.
"You dragged me out here to ask me that?" Gigi tossed her hair back with the shake of her head. "It's cold you know."
"I asked you a question."
"I don't have a problem." She shrugged her shoulders, small and bare and bristled with chill bumps. Though she was visibly cold, she hid it well with a satisfied smile. "I got my revenge, and I feel better now. Problem solved."
"Is that why you drugged me?" Vinny bowed his head, to get a better lock on her eyes. "Revenge, Gianna?"
"Well, it started out as revenge." Gigi laughed lightly, twisting her hair around her fingers. The way they spindled this way and that, it almost seemed like a nervous tell. "The first few times, I just wanted to see you make an ass of yourself. Then I discovered you were a Wicked, and that made things a whole lot more interesting," she said.
"You can't do that, Gigi!" Vincent threw his arms out at his sides, his shout a tender echo on the air. "Do you understand just how fucked that is?"
She smirked a sad, agonizing smile. "I do."
"Then why did you do it?" Vinny's jaw was wound tight, his tongue clicking with agitation. Then he took another step to her, his words a smearing growl that slipped through the cracks of his teeth. "Do you have any idea how I felt!"
"Used?" She challenged his stare, standing tall in front of him. "Taken advantage of? Violated? How the fuck do you think I felt, Vincent? Do you have any idea how hurt I was?"
"Oh, you can't hold that against me, Gigi," Vincent reprimanded, tossing his head back. It tilted to his shoulder in exasperation. "I was fucked up. There was so much shit in my bloodstream, I—"
"That doesn't change anything," Gigi contended. "You had a problem, and you made it mine."
"I don't even remember half of that night, Gigi."
"I do!" she yelled back at him, her eyes reddened and damp. "And you know what the real kicker is? All of it was over another girl."
Vinny rubbed at his face, a long, bitter sigh heaved from his lungs before he spoke up again: "I admit, when Sage died, I went through some shit."
"Yeah," she scoffed, clearing her voice of emotions and brushing the mist from her eyes. "You went through me and about twenty other girls. But I highly doubt any of them had feelings for you, did they? I doubt any of them expected to wake up and find you there. But I did. And why was that, again?"
Vincent was quiet, his own sword sheathed. She had him in a box.
"Because I promised you," he answered quietly.
"Promised me what?" she pried, and when Vincent didn't reply, she answered for him. "You promised me that if we ever slept together we'd go steady. You know I had feelings for you. But what happened after that, Vincent?"
"I left," he replied.
"You left."
He gazed at the ground in silence, reading the aging cracks in the cement. He'd forgotten so much in such a short amount of time. Gigi was different; she wasn't interested in the money or the sex. She worked so diligently to nurse his psyche.
She was a geek back then; vintage overalls and glasses too big for her face, soft golden braids that plaited down her shoulders, and freckles—sweet little flecks of honey that flushed in the sunlight. Vincent admired those the most. But now she seemed to take to veiling them with heavy makeups. Her hair was no longer the color of the sun, but darker. Everything about her had lost its light.
Because he had broken a promise. He had used her. Left her. Forgotten her.
"Gigi." His voice was softened now. Guilt fed on his heart like a gluttonous monster. But before he could say another word, Gigi held up a hand.
"I don't want an apology." Her voice was lighter now, full of resolve. "Like I said, I got my revenge. Now, I'm cold, and I left my purse at the warehouse. You're going to walk me back and we're going to forget this conversation ever happened."
And with that, she brushed past him.
The walk was filled with empty words. Vincent thought so many times about speaking up, but he found the point moot. He'd burned his bridge, and for Gigi's sake, maybe it was best not to build a new one.
"We didn't have sex, by the way." Gigi shattered the silence with a gentle blow. The moon was nearly bathing their path in light, the busy streets finally calming for the night. But Vincent paused in surprise.
"What?" A brow rose high above the other. "What do you mean we didn't?"
"The other night. We didn't." She shrugged, nestling into the warmth of the jacket he had given her. "We slept in the same bed. That's all."
"We didn't do anything?" he asked. All this time he had been angry for no reason? Well, not no reason. She did drug him, after all.
"Nah." She smirked, small and subtle. "I'm a bitch, but I'm not a monster. You really think I'd do that?"
"I did," Vinny muttered as they neared the warehouse. "Just hurry up and get your purse. Kai still doesn't have keys to the—"
He paused as he stepped in something damp, his eyes falling to the pavement at his feet. It hadn't rained, he was sure of it. Then his sights set on the warehouse doors, and his heart snapped in his chest.
Pressed upon the rusted steel was a handprint.
As clear as day and as red as roses.