Chapter one
“This isn’t going to work.” Damien was in a haze, confused at why now, of all times Kyle was breaking up with him. Why does this always happen to me? Damn you and your bag of tricks Murphy!
”How can this not be working?” Damien protested, as Kyle picked up the duffle bag and moved toward the door. He moved quickly, blocking Kyle’s path to the door. His words were desperate when he spoke. “We’ve been together for a year and a half.”
Kyle shoved past Damien angrily. “Yes, a year and a half is long time. I’ve lied to my family for that long. It’s to long to do that sort of thing.” Kyle growled out, reaching for the doorknob.
“You don’t have to lie to them.” Damien stood quietly behind Kyle, starting to accept that this angry thing in front of him was not the lover he knew.
Kyle stiffened, as if shocked that Damien would even suggest that. “You don’t know what it’s like to lie to the people you love.” He spat, eyes hard as he glared at Damien. “In fact, you never had anyone that you loved to lie to.” He slammed the door behind him as he stomped out.
Damien shuffled back to the living room with a heavy sigh, flopping on to the couch, his eyes filling with tears. A year and a half, he and Kyle had been together for a year and a half, and now he was gone. His eyes scanned over the apartment dejectedly. Noting all he things that reminded him of the second person he’d lost that day.
“Time to clean I guess.” He whispered, moving sluggishly to start in the bedroom. He went through the bathroom, throwing out all of Kyle’s products. He even went as far as to throw out his own cologne, promising himself to get a new scent as soon as possible. He then moved on to the closet and drawers, throwing any clothes left in to a garbage bag.
Three sets of sheets were also tossed into the bag as he fought not to think about why he was throwing out those particular sheets. They were good sheets too, this kind of thread count did not come cheep. Six picture frames and two really pretty decorative pillows later he declared his apartment completely Kyle free. He shoved the garbage bag out on to the fire escape, and dropped it into the dumpster four floors bellow.
An hour of lying silently on the couch later, it was dark and Damien had to change for work. He ruffled through his closet and drawers for an outfit that would make him feel better. He drew his tight black low rider leather pants out of the deep dark depths of his closet with a bright smile, defiantly the pick me up pants. He found his long sleeved fishnet shirt buried among a pile of silky undergarments, raising an eyebrow as he tried to remember how it had gotten there in the first place. He reapplied his normal thick layer of eyeliner, a necessity, and grabbed his Linkin Park hooded sweatshirt. He found his keys at the bottom of his black messenger bag; hiding under a notebook of codes he hadn’t used is a year, yet hadn’t bothered to file away. And then was out the door.
He shuttered slightly in the wind, damning the London spring to hell, and hurried to the subway station a block from his apartment. He paused for a moment in front of a store window, and he checked his reflection with a well trained eye. Two words: eye candy.
He tugged lightly on the spiked dog collar around his neck, muttering darkly about the cheap quality of the leather work. He then tugged his pants down a little lower on his hips, and attempted to straighten his long hair that tumbled over his eyes. After five minutes of pushing and pulling at his hair he finally gave up on that and slipped his subway pass out of his pocket as he moved a few more buildings down and descended into the station.
He shoved through the crowed station, moving quickly as not to miss his train and ignoring the strange looks he was getting. He was highly underdressed for the end of March, but it was normally hotter than hell in Club Tristos so he didn’t bother glaring at the people. He barely made it to the train and found a small empty space near the door to stand as the train pilled away from the platform.
Three stops and ten minutes later the subway came to a stop on 7th street and Damien once again shoved through the crowd in the station, after muttering a few choice phrases in one of the many languages he had picked up over the years he was joined by a few more Goths exiting other trains and trying to get to the street. He spotted Drew from 44th street and gave a wave of greeting as they both made their way up the steep stairs and out on to the street. They made the short journey down the street to Club Tristos in silence, giving short partings as Damien headed to the side entrance and Drew went to the front.
From the outside Club Tristos looked just like an ordinary building if you ignored the music pulsing around you. Inside it was like something from a science fiction movie; lots of people, lots of techno. Back stage it was the same, only the music was slightly quieter and there were less people.
He sighed as the door slammed behind him, home sweet home.
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