Life in Fae Valley

Chapter 6: Part 3

Numb.

When he woke up and stared at the ceiling, all he could think about was that. Numb.

His skin felt cold, despite the layers of weighted blankets he had piled onto himself the night before. His limbs felt as heavy as lead, her throat dry. The house was quiet... What time was it?

Tilting his head, he squinted his eyes at the red glare of the alarm clock beside his bed. Shit... 12 in the afternoon. Why didn't Lucy wake him? She was probably in a rush to get to work and open up shop for the day.

Despite how his body groaned for rest, he pulled himself to sit upright, running a hand through his hair before he paused, taking a moment to stare at the white streak in his hair. It'd gotten longer... He needed to remember to ask Lucy later to help him cut it off. Sluggish, and not at all ready for the day, he made the trek from his room to the kitchen, narrowed eyes staring down the calendar on the fridge.

Crap. No wonder he felt so shit today.

It marked the day his mom died.

Probably why Lucy got up earlier than usual too.Shaking his head a bit, he groggily made himself coffee and rubbed his eyes, taking a moment to stare at the wall across from him to ground himself.

Who are you? Dante Flavin May. Where are you? In the apartment I share with my sister, Lucy Meteora May, above her bakery. How old are you?

God damnit, Dante, how old are you?

The question he always got stuck on. It wasn't that hard. Everyone knows how old they are, even if they dont celebrate their birthday. Wait. Birthday. What day was it again?

Oh. Yeah.
Birthday.

He stared for a moment longer at the wall, till he finally realised he'd been boiling water on his hand. Gently placing the kettle back down, he stared at the now red, inflamed skin for a moment. Lucy would kill him if he didn't take care of it, no matter how badly he wanted to watch the skin blister. Pulling cream out of the cupboard, he carefully swabbed it on the burn after soaking it in cold water, then bandaging it. Tight.

He stood for longer than he realised just wiping water off of the counter, till he realised there was a note for him on the fridge. Quietly, he read the piece of pink paper, a hint of a smile twitching at his lips. Lucy, no matter how hard he'd try to forget his birthday, telling him to eat his heart out on the birthday cake in the fridge. He didn't like cake, but he never had the heart to tell her that. He didn't have a big sweet tooth in general, but he could admit his younger sister was a damn good baker.

Man, 33. He was getting older now. Not that he minded, but it felt weird. Very weird.

How old had Mom been when she died? Her and Dad had been pretty young when they married and had me. I think Mom had me at 19... So she must have been around 26, when she died.

The realisation hit him like a brick when he thought about it. That'd make Lucy older now that what their mom ever reached.

No. He had to stop thinking about it. It'd only make him feel weird, and he didn't want to feel like that. A buzz of a text grabbed his attention, his hand instantly wrapping around his phone so he could squint at its cracked screen. JD.

JD.

His heart skipped a beat. He forgot he had given the detective his number... Why was his cheeks suddenly feeling warm? No, he couldn't be getting sick now. Shaking his head, he focused his mind back on the text. It was short, simple. Three words. Well, an acronym and two words.

S.O.S. At Shepard's.

Wait, S.O.S?
Pocketing his phone, he grabbed his jacket and pulled it on, glancing down at himself. He'd fallen asleep in his shoes, which was fine. His sweats and his shirt were a little ruffled, but that was fine too. Placing his cap on firmly, he grabbed his keys and jogged down the stairs, taking them two at a time before he climbed into his old beaten up Chevrolet Constantia, putting the key into ignition.

Trying again and again, it didn't start. Shit. Shit shit shit. Well, Shepherd's wasn't far. He could run it.

Before he knew it, he was sprinting down the street, running as fast as his legs could carry him. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, and his heart felt like a piston hammering against his ribcage. What could possibly have gone wrong that JD needed his help? JD was a detective after all, he had police training.

Then again, city folk and country folk were very different.

Barrelling through the door of the hardware store so hard he nearly fell onto the floor, he had to pause for a minute to catch his breath, staring around him till his eyes landed on him. JD. And who the fuck was that? Without realising it, he was glaring at the man as if he was death himself come to take his soul, marching over to grab this stranger by the shoulder and shove him away.

Oops. Maybe a little too hard.

As he watched the man tumble into a rack full of paint cans, he felt his hands clench a little before he looked at JD. He was trembling. "You okay?" Wow, yeah, great move idiot. Ask him if he's okay, no shit sherlock, he sent you an s.o.s message and he's shaking like a leaf in the wind, no, of course he's not okay.

"I'll... I'll be fine, Dante. Thank you" JD murmured, giving the taller mans arm a gentle squeeze that gave Dante butterflies. Not that you'd be able to tell with that blank expression of his. Though the question was, why didn't JD defend himself? He was more than capable.

Giving a curt nod, he shifted to look back at the man who was busy pulling himself out of the stack of scattered paint cans, drenched in paint of all colours and looking even more pissed than he did before. "Who the fuck are you?" The stranger hissed, marching over like an angry toddler. "JD's my ex, I have every right to talk to him without being shoved into a shelf by a hobo."

Ex? JD has and ex?
Wait, he said something about his ex once.

Wait, that ex? As in manipulative asshole ex? Dante's eyes narrowed, hands clenching tight around the mans collar without thinking. "I'm your worst fucking nightmare, cunt. I ever see your fucking hands on JD again, I'm snapping them off and making you gag on your own fingers" he growled, before punching him hard in the face.

Oh that was a crack. That was a crack, he didn't mean for that. He just meant to hurt him, scare him a little, not break something. To his own hidden horror, he watched as this stranger clutched his broken nose, blood dripping between his fingers as he stared at Dante with sheer terror.

No. No, please, don't look at me like that. I didn't mean to, please, don't look so scared.

Silence filled the air as he watched JD's ex sprint out with his tail tucked between his legs before he looked back at JD, tilting his head a little. His stomach felt queasy. He hated the sight of blood. It wasn't a strange sight to him, but he still hated it regardless. "Uhm... Wanna... Go get coffee?" He offered meekly, JD giving him a warm smile that made his heart race.

"Of course, Dante. How could I ever say no to someone who literally came running to save me? Let's go."

Side by side, they walked to the nearest coffee shop. Not that they stayed. They simply got take aways, with a croissant for them to share. For some time they wandered around aimlessly before the headed up High Point Hill, and sat beneath the oak tree there. Before lay them the sprawling countryside... In the distance, resting the skyscrapers that marked the existence of the city.

Sitting together, neither said a word. Often times they'd go somewhere together, but not say anything.

Wait, what was that?

Glancing over, Dante felt his heart skip several beats. JD was resting his head on his shoulder, sipping at his coffee. He was... Perfection. No, no, I can't think that. Can't let myself be vulnerable to that. He's just a friend... Nothing more. But... No doubt... This feels... Nice. Good, even.

"Hey JD?"

"Yeah Dante?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For making this the best birthday I've had in awhile."