not healed nor forgotten -- chapter two
“You disgusting piece of shit,” Kai growled, teeth clenched and grinding against each other. There was no mirth in his eyes, only pure distaste and hostility.
Ace wasn’t fazed by the glare and the hatred lacing its way through his bartender’s voice. In fact, he was quite amused.
“Why? Because I bettered you? Darling, you saw it coming. You let me. You could have saved yourself, but you wanted me on top.” A chuckle rose from his throat, leaning back on the couch to watch the blond.
In comparison, this did not amuse Kai. Not this. Not with these circumstances. Not with what was at stake.
“My main, Ace, I have not lost, you think I’d let you win, you sick fuck? Lucina doesn’t lose, Ace, not to fucking Jigglypuff.” Smash had not gone well. Smash always goes well. Ace usually screwed around and paused the game at random, inconvenient times to zoom in on a character and laugh as if he were heavily intoxicated. Kai ‘kicked ass’ and playing with his boss only fueled his ego, fed it like a flame. Though, maybe showboating through the years had brought his guard down. It was easy to avoid Jigglypuff.
“If you were paying attention, you wouldn’t have let me approach you in the first place. We have to be touching for me to destroy you like that,” the younger man reminded, wagging his finger in a form of chiding his friend. Then, because he loved Kai and knew how delicate his pride was, “It wasn’t for lack of skill, you simply let your walls fall. Because it’s me, and I’m great, and you love me.”
“…Yes. Shut up.” Came the reluctant reply. The other had curled in on himself, feet brought up under him and arms around his knees. Compared to Ace, he was small, and he was even without the unintended scale, but now he appeared even younger than he did. With his hair down and him in this state, loose flannel pants and one of his boss’s tank tops, anyone could and would mistake him for an adolescent girl rather than an angsty 26-year-old who probably has an alcohol problem. Ace smiled sadly at him, reaching over to pull the blond into an embrace that more less simply involved the ball that was Kai leaning to the right, vision obscured by olive arms painted in sleeves of plant tattoos. He didn’t say anything, and for that, Kai was grateful.
Considering he showed up at Ace’s door that night (morning?), still in his formal bartender attire that he took pride in, the tie neatly tucked under his vest, he was grateful the other didn’t mention it, didn’t question him. The only thing that gave him up was the trembling. His eyes weren’t red, as he didn’t cry—he doesn’t cry. Ace knew this by now, even if Kai broke that rule every once in a while. The only thing his bartender asked was what Ace’s pronouns were that day, to which he received the response of “It’s too early, even for me, to comprehend my gender right now.” It wasn’t annoyed, and his voice was soft.
Later, after changing into his boss’s clothes and burying himself into the other’s chest, Kai had spoken. The sun was rising, the incessant chirping of the too-awake birds climbing to a crescendo as the sky turned light gray, like after a refreshing rain. He could still taste the unholy chocolate milk in his mouth, but by now it was sour.
When he walks, he is prepared to flee, to run, but on an early, early morning subway, there is nowhere to go when you hear voices that sound too familiar. Baritones an octave too low, chatting idly to each other as they head home from God knows where.
But it’s too similar, and then He is there, and He whispers into Kai’s ear.
“You will come with me.”
No.
God, no.
Please, it can’t be Him, it can’t be, you can leave, you can shout at Him or jump out, the car is slowing, spit, growl, shout—
Do not call Him by His name.
“Yes, sir.”
And then Kai steps out of the car, it has pulled to a stop, no one follows him but he sees it, sees the dark hair and amber eyes, sees the arrogant smirk.
“Good boy. You remember.”
He’s staring straight ahead as he walks, guided, not seeing anything. The streets melt into each other, lights of all night Duane Reads slipping into those of shadier establishments. Bumping into a drunken man brings complaints and a clear head. The city is quiet now, he is not on the subway, he is somewhere aboveground and He is not here. Kai’s fingernails are almost digging through the cloth of his vest, hands gripping his sides tightly.
After the explanation, the telling of how he ended up at Ace’s door, his boss only said one thing.
“It’s him or they today.”
And Kai was grateful.