CHAPTER THREE
SWITCH FLIP
—
So, Dmitri didn't quit.
After thinking on it, searching for other jobs and coming up with absolutely nothing he gave up. It was slightly pathetic, to be honest— the fact that he gave up on his job-hunt in barely a week.
For now, he was managing, though. He was constantly writing and publishing History articles, every waking moment spent behind his screen, he was still helping his students out with their school work, despite not teaching at the school anymore, and he had even gone as far as to offer to walk his neighbour's dogs when they were busy.
All in all, everything was fine.
Except for his sleep schedule. That was definitely not fine. But still, he liked to pretend that everything was fine.
"Oy. Dmitri, you're spacing out," Trinh called out from her position near the grinder, causing Dmitri's hand to instantly jerk, nearly spilling all the coffee onto the marble counters. "Try not to zone out, yeah? We have shit to do."
Muttering out a soft apology, Dmitri shook his head, clearing it of all his thoughts as he handed a mug of coffee and a slice of cake to someone. "Have a good day," he said, voice coming out emotionless, robotic. Fuck. I should probably try to sound more enthusiastic. Less dead inside.
"What's wrong with you?" Trinh asked, bumping hips with him as she hummed the song that was blaring through the loudspeakers. "Why are you so... not Dmitri today? Is everything okay?"
A short sigh escaped Dmitri's mouth. Might as well. "Honestly, I have no fucking clue. Might just be me overworking myself, might be the mental illness, but who knows? I'm just fucking tired," he admitted lowly, eyes scanning the coffee shop to check if anyone was listening in, even though he was sure that no one could hear even a word of what he was saying.
To be frank, Dmitri didn't expect himself to just admit that to Trinh, but as he had just said, he was really fucking tired. And he had no filter whatsoever when he was tired.
Eyes narrowing, Trinh frowned as she poured some coffee into a take-away cup, orange band encircling her wrist today. "Is it the environment? Because Tariq is working above us?" she questioned, voice barely audible over the music echoing through the room. Yes. No. I don't know.
"No, no. It's not the environment. I promise. It's just—"
Right when he was about to try to convince Trinh that it was his own fault and nothing else, someone walked into the coffee shop. Fuck.
"Speak of the fucking devil."
The door swung wide open, and in walked Tariq. But he looked different today— the same unnerving confidence that he had been radiating for the past week gone, replaced by an obvious exhaustion on his face. And Dmitri just knew that the previous night had been a bad one.
That is, if Tariq still had bad nights.
Of course, Dmitri didn't question it, he just watched as Trinh handed him his coffee, free of charge for him as she had mentioned before, the reason being, Dmitri, he works here!
He expected Tariq to walk by, to not make eye contact with him. That was normal for them. The two of them ignoring each other was normal.
What Dmitri didn't expect was for Tariq to accept the coffee, before cursing under his breath and dropping it right onto the wooden floors, causing it to spill all over the ground.
"Fuck. Uh— fuck," Tariq muttered, shaking out his hand and clenching it, another expletive leaving his mouth. And in a lightning flash, Dmitri knew exactly what was wrong. He also knew that Tariq definitely still had bad nights. "I'm sorry, I can help clean up. Trinh, stop, I'll do it, you don't—"
It was a well known fact that Dmitri possess have the ability to keep his mouth shut, so, he blurted, "How bad is it?"
Shit.
Tariq paused, cautious eyes glancing up at him, ones that were lined with heavy crescents under them. In a pinched voice, he said, "Don't see how that's any of your business."
Wasn't it his business? It had been his business for two whole years. "Well, considering you're permanently poking holes and inking people's skin, I'd hope it's not too bad," Dmitri shot back, focus on the slice of cheesecake in front of him long gone.
"Shut the fuck up, Dmitri," he mumbled, unclenching his fist as he released a slow breath,
"Oh yeah, and I'm just supposed to listen to whatever the fuck you say to me?"
"That's not—" Tariq paused, only to yawn softly and shake his head, as if that would get rid of the tiredness. "It literally has nothing to do with you."
Dmitri didn't know when Trinh had made her way next to him, but he was thankful, because he had no idea what to say.
"Tariq," she urged, making a new cup of coffee. "You know that nobody cares if you miss a day of work, right?" Oh. I can feel a lecture coming on. "Fuck this whole notion of working until you tire yourself out. Dmitri, you do it all the time, like— just give yourself a fucking break for once. It's ridiculous that you guys work to the point where you're losing sleep, or work even when you're clearly not fit to work. Take a fucking break."
"Was there a need to bring my name in, too?" Dmitri muttered under his breath.
"Yes."
A sigh later, Tariq nodded. Grim defeat was written on his face when he said, "I don't think I can work today."
"I know."
Head snapping up from the now clean floors, Tariq shook his head at Dmitri. "Wasn't talking to you," he stated blandly, accepting the new cup of coffee.
Oh. Dmitri sighed, feeling the same exhaustion that he had been feeling since the week started return with a vengeance, clawing at the back of his eyelids. "Too bad. Can you walk?"
Tariq laughed, not the kind of laugh that Dmitri was accustomed to, the one that was soundless but at the same time, loud, snorts in between gasps of air.
Not that one.
This one was a bitter one, more like a scoff than anything.
"It's not your fucking business, Dmitri. I'm perfectly capable of walking."
He wasn't entirely sure how true that was, but he didn't comment, watching as Tariq took a sip of his coffee and practically limped up the stairs, until he disappeared into the room upstairs.
Trinh nudged Dmitri, head cocking up in the direction in which Tariq had gone. "Do you wanna check on him? You can go upstairs for a bit, if you want. Check the place out, maybe? I helped design it!" she chirped, and Dmitri briefly wondered how the fuck she could be so enthusiastic all the time. He had no idea. But he wanted in.
"I don't need to check on him, he's fine," Dmitri mumbled as he wiped the counter down.
That wasn't a lie— Tariq was technically fine. Probably in pain, probably sore, but fine. There wasn't anything that Dmitri could do, at least.
Pursing her lips, Trinh placed her hand on top of Dmitri's, stopping him from moving it. "I'm telling you to go upstairs as your assistant manager. I'm giving you a break, so just take it, Dmitri. The place isn't that busy anyway, and you've never been upstairs! It's really cool up there. Go!"
"Fine," Dmitri mumbled; he knew better than to argue with Trinh, especially when she pulled the assistant manager card.
Reluctantly untying his apron with one hand— a skill that he had picked up over the past week— Dmitri reached over and flicked Trinh forehead, her eyes instinctively closing as she laughed, bright orange eyeshadow dusting her eyelids. To date, she was the only person Dmitri knew who could pull off orange eyeshadow.
Shooting her one last look, Dmitri bounded upstairs, praying that Tariq was somewhere else, doing something else, doing anything that required his attention, so that he didn't notice him.
Unfortunately for Dmitri, the world hated him, and as soon as he entered the room, he found Tariq laying flat on the reclining chair, eyes closed with a hand thrown over his face.
Fuck. I should just leave. He won't notice, right? Yeah, I should—
"What do you want?" Tariq muttered, pushing himself upright, a low hiss leaving his lips as he did. Okay, Spidey senses. "Stop staring at me."
Dmitri rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to hopefully say Great, have a nice day, but the only thing that came out was, "Says the guy who started checking me out the second he laid his eyes on me."
Surprisingly enough, Tariq let out a laugh at that, a small but genuine one. "To be fair, you have had a massive glow up," he said, tone nonchalant, as if he didn't know that Dmitri hated compliments, that he always felt like they were out of pity, never genuine.
"Fuck off, so have you," Dmitri retorted, taking a seat on the chair in front of him and looking around the place. And almost instantly, Dmitri knew that while Trinh helped design it, Tariq was the person she had helped. The dark grey walls, decorated with a painting of two stags clashing heads, the framed black and white sketches— everything in there screamed Tariq.
Snorting, Tariq shook his head, toying with the chain around his neck, a simple necklace with a hollow circle as its pendant. "Thanks? I don't really know what the fuck to say to that."
That hurt. It hurt because there was never an awkward silence between them, never a moment where they didn't know what to say to each other.
Just as Dmitri was about to get up and leave, hopefully save himself from the silence that would most probably end in the two of them yelling at each other, Tariq mumbled a low curse, hand gripping his own thigh as he squeezed his eyes shut.
"You still get those? Cramps?" Dmitri asked, doing everything in his power to stop himself from feeling bad for Tariq— he wasn't entirely sure if it was worth it.
Tariq didn't say anything for a moment, just massaging out his thigh with a pained grimace on his face. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. "Considering I still have my stupid fucking deficiencies? Yeah."
Don't feel bad for him. Don't do it. Don't fucking— there I go, feeling bad for him.
"Have they gotten better, at least?"
A strange look appeared on Tariq's face, but Dmitri knew that look. It was the one that told him that he was about to snap. And he nearly did, until Dmitri stopped him with a quick, "Don't snap at me for asking a question."
"I wasn't going to," Tariq answered, but when he saw the pointed look that Dmitri gave him, his lips quirked up into a smile. "Fine, I was going to snap. I'm—" Apologize. I fucking dare you. "Anyway." That's what I thought. "They're better, I managed to get rid of the vitamin C deficiency, so... No more skin rashes for me. Just the muscle cramps, spots in my vision every time I stand up, shaky hands. You know. The usual. Chronic pain can suck my fucking cock."
Honestly, Dmitri was just surprised that Tariq was talking about it so freely, when this was quite literally his biggest insecurity.
"Oh," Dmitri uttered, disregarding the amused look that Tariq gave him. "Wait, what if your muscle cramps when you're in the middle of giving someone a piercing? What if you're giving them a tattoo and your hand cramps up, and—"
"Thank you, Dmitri," Tariq interrupted. "That was exactly what I needed to hear, you always know what to say."
Well. "Unnecessary jab, but okay." Honestly, Dmitri didn't know how the fuck the two of them were still having a semi-civil conversation. The switch in Dmitri's mind had flipped from Uncomfortably Numb— his mid-point— to Too Open, and he didn't have a fucking filter anymore.
Muttering something under his breath, Tariq pushed himself off the chair, nearly tripping over his own feet as he did, grabbing a bottle of water for himself. "That was unnecessary, but your And I'm just supposed to listen to whatever the fuck you say to me wasn't?"
Maybe Dmitri spoke— thought?— too soon.
Dmitri cocked an eyebrow up at him. "Was I wrong?"
"Fuck you," Tariq mumbled, Dmitri wasn't entirely sure if he was serious or not— he had gotten better at hiding his emotions, if that was even possible.
You wish, Dmitri wanted to say, but that was something that Eighteen Year Old Dmitri would say, the one who managed to make sexual jokes out of every single thing that came out of Tariq's mouth, the one who, more likely than not, would have made a joke about that, too. The one who was in love with Tariq, and would have given everything to see him laugh at his ridiculous sex jokes.
Unfortunately (or fortunately), Dmitri wasn't Eighteen Year Old Dmitri anymore.
So, he just said, "That's what I thought."
"How—" Tariq stopped for a second, glancing at Dmitri through tired eyes. "How come you went to college?" he asked, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes again. If I just left the room, would he notice? "Not trying to be spiteful, I genuinely want to know. You didn't want to go."
Shrugging even though no one could see him, Dmitri placed his hand on the chair, resting his head in his palm. God, he was so fucking exhausted, and by the looks of it, so was Tariq. Meaning that neither of them had any filter now.
"Don't know, to be honest," he admitted, the words just leaving his mouth before he could even think. "Leaving the city was the best decision I've ever made, though." Apart from breaking up with you.
Tariq hummed, eyes still shut. "How's your grandfather?"
And then, all at once, the switch which was balancing precariously on Too Open flipped in Dmitri's mind, hit the Too Closed Off point.
"You can ask me questions, but if I ask you a question, I get a 'shut the fuck up'?"
Eyes snapping open, Tariq straightened his back, wincing a little as he did. "I just asked a question, Jesus."
"And I answered it." Did I?
"No, you didn't."
Dmitri got up from the chair, shaking his head. "Can't believe you're still a fucking hypocrite," he muttered, impulsively switching off the lights for Tariq.
Now, Tariq seemed to be on high alert, too, his switch flipping from Too Carefree to Too Rude as he said, "And you're still fucking defensive. I literally asked a question, so you can fuck off with your defensive ass behaviour."
Shut up. God, shut the fuck up.
"I don't think I want to answer your question, so—"
"Is your grandfather okay?" Tariq voiced, concern taking the place of malice.
That's when Dmitri decided that it was a really fucking bad idea to continue to talk to Tariq, because this happened all the time. All the fucking time.
So, he didn't say a word, just left the room, pulling the door shut behind him, and leaning against it, fatigue washing over him, completely soaking him in it, and all he could do was slide to the ground and sigh.
Because fuck, life was exhausting. Work was exhausting. Tariq was exhausting.
And the switch in Dmitri's mind had gone back to Uncomfortably Numb. The worst one. The one that made him feel like shit all the time.
But Dmitri couldn't care anymore, so all he did was sigh and squeeze his eyes shut, hoping it would somehow trigger the switch, flip it back to Too Open, the best setting in his brain.
Spoiler alert: it didn't.
—
+2649
AN: this chapter. doesn't hit the same. but it's okay😔💔
thank u all sm for reading🥰🥰 have a good rest of ur day !!❤️