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PG-18 Yo, pass, I'm open!


Live, Die, Repeat
Gage sat on the couch watching TV, trying not to doze off before work. As the TV dronned on and on once about this, and a few times about that. He wasn't paying attention to what was happening but more focused on his phone. Texting back and forth with a friend of his was really the only thing keeping his awake at this point. Inevitablly though, he did doze off.

A few minutes -which really felt like days- later, he woke up. Gage checked his phone and shrieked outloud. "I'm going to be late!" He shot up off the couch and ran to his room to change and grab his usual beanie. He grabbed his bag and walked out of the house with a brisk pace. He unlocked the car and drove -no sped- to the school where he was working the conessions. He pulled up and parked crookedly in a space. He looked around, noticing the JV Football team warming up on the feild not to far from where he parked, and the swarms of people coming and sitting in the bleachers. Hopefully we'll have some good buisness then, with all these people coming in he though.

He walked into the school, humming and trying to slow his heartrate and calm his breathing. If he was late, he was late, no reason to push it anymore. He smiled at a few people walking past him, said a few "Hello's" and "How are you's?" to people he never knew the names of. He tried to talk to everyone, know them or not, but sometimes it was hard to know everyone's names when you meet so many new people.

He unlocked the door of the consession stand and walked to the back. He grabbed several different things, setting them out on the counter and placing napkins, plastic forks, spoons and knifes out aswell. Sometimes he wondered why he never worked with anyone else. Of course, he only worked a three hour shift, with another personas shift right after his own, but why not along with other people? He just shrugged. He didn't really mind, he talked to enough people as it was, asking what they wanted to eat and serving people.

He just hopped something a little more eventful, and maybe intersting would happen. Something new and exciting, but that never happened with Gage, everything was exactly the same everyday he was here, or anywhere for that matter.


Can we pretend airplanes are shooting stars?
(Heyyyyy....so the response is a biiit long. Sorry about that.)

Soft music was flowing from a radio beside Dae as he served out coffee and took orders, a bandana tied over his blue and purple hair to ‘hide its unprofessionalism’, as his ex had been fond of saying. All around him, people who really shouldn’t have been drinking huge coffees at three in the afternoon were talking to each other over newspapers and frantically typing on their company issued phones.

There was a group of cupids in the corner. ‘The Cupids’ could be found at any time of day, and every time Dae spotted one he was filled with a strange warmth. They were the new couples. Overdressed, full of anxiety, reeking of cheap cologne to hide the stress sweat, and trying way, way too hard. They laughed awkwardly, had no idea what to do with their hands, and more often then not were sitting in an uncomfortable silence. But even after their date left, they had that rosy glow to their cheeks and a love struck expression.

Dae often spent too much time rooting for them, his fingers crossed behind his back as he went to serve them. He put extra care into their coffee, making the designs really, really pretty just in case it smooth the conversation along. Because is there was one thing Dae loved above all else, it was a fluffy love story. If he, Daemon, could help it, he’d be the happiest guy in the world.

Dae checked his phone, hoping, as usual, that Jordan hadn’t forgotten. The man was technically his boyfriend, but ever since Dae had opened the store and stopped being as willing to do a n y t h i n g for money, J stopped hanging out with him as much. Yeah, Dae understood it. Jordan was a drug dealer, he had s t u f f to do. No biggie. But it was the fifth date the guy had blown off that month. He was starting to think Jordan wasn’t that into him anymore.

“Stop doing that,” Anthony, a guy Dae had hired about three months before said, taking his phone away. Anthony was a huge, muscular man in his thirties who owned a bar across the street. He cleaned up real nice when he wasn’t behind the counter. When Dae had asked him why the hell he wanted to work in a coffee shop, Anth’s response had been ‘I need a day job’. Apparently, he didn’t like selling booze between 6 am and 6pm. But he liked money. So he, a guy who looked he’d intimidate the grim reaper, worked for Dae. And sold booze all night. Dae had no idea when he slept.

“Get out of here,” Anthony ordered, handing a customer her coffee. “I’ll close up shop and take care of The Cupids in the corner.” Dae sorta frowned in the older man’s direction, and at the hand he had the phone in. “But…he still might come.” Anthony sighed and put the phone on a shelf high above anywhere Dae could reach. “No more desperate texts to the guy,” the bartender started. “No more waiting around for him to call you back. No more hanging around t w o hours after your shift is over. He was supposed to be here at 9, Dae! He’s six hours late.”

The huge, tattooed covered man pushed him towards the door, to the relief of five or six customers who knew him like a brother. They were members of the local criminal gang and had helped him open the coffee shop, so he just gave them coffee for free. And they also looked like they would beat the hell out of him if he waited any longer. They said he was ‘being taken advantage off’ and that he ‘should stop being an idiot’.

And so he left, wondering around town, and eventually back to his old school. He’d stopped showing up after the cops had dragged him out of the classroom in handcuffs, for tutoring some of the gang members. Said he was an accomplice, or something. They’d scared him so bad he hadn’t been able to come back. Took courses online now, because screw them, he was still getting an education and he was still tutoring whoever needed help with math.

He took of his bandanna and shoved it in his pocket, heading to the field, a wave of nostalgia hitting him. He’d been a referee back in the day, and knew quite a bit about every game out there. Which is why he was recognized on the spot by most of the students. The whispers of “Criminal,” rounded the field, completely undeserved. He ran a coffee shop for God’s sake. His clothes were covered in paint, and the only reason he was even associated with the gang and had served two months, was because teaching them math had helped them sell more crack. He wasn’t sorry.

Dae ducked behind Gage’s counter when Jacob Miller passed by. The man had accidentally discovered Dae was really gay a few years ago. Jacob had threatened to kill him if he ever saw him again, so Dae wasn’t taking any chances. Hell, most of his time in highschool had been spent avoiding the guy. “Hey there,” he waved meekly at the unfamiliar boy from behind the counter. “I’m not here.”


Live, Die, Repeat
(Your all good lol I don't mind)

Gage tapped his foot quickly, counting the seconds as they went on. His was almost literally drowning in his own boredom, and had nothing else to do. His phone had died about a half hour ago, and things where slow, people only coming in about every 10 minutes by his count. Only about an hour was left before his shift ended and he wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep. As he watched the game from a distance, he was at least a little entertained by his school whipping the others butts. The score about 30-10 right now.

After a few minutes he noticed a few people with money in hand walk up to the counter and he gladly accepted -even if it was limited and short- their interaction with him. A young woman ordered a drink and nachos and he quickly and almost expertly gave her, her change and food.

As he served the rest of the small group he was glad he had a little bit of a distraction from his un-ending boredom and dispare. When the group cleared he noticed a man walking about the campus and couldn't help but watch. He had nothing better to do, and he was honestly curious why people where looking at him the way there where. The dude looks farmiliar, where have I seen him before? He let himself shrug at his thought and continued watching.

He was suprised to see the man jump behind the counter and hide. Before he could speak he was interupted and looked for what- or who, he was hiding from. Of course it's Jason. I don't blame the poor kid.

He stood watching Jason walked closer and almost groans outloud when he turned twoard the stand. "Hey Jason, what can I get ya?"

Jason looked him over for a minute, but Gage didn't squirm but smiled at him. He didn't have to like him, but the least he could do was play nice. "A soda is good for now, don't want to lose my starting spot for tomarrow." Jason reasponded.

Gage quietly nodded and walked over to the fridge and grabbed a soda, turning twoard him, making an effort not to glance at the kid hiding behind his counter, "Thats 2.50"

Jason grumbled and handed him the money, and in turn Gage gave him his drink. "You know what I mean about my starting spot tomarrow Gage, if coach puts you in, your dead understand me? I won't lose it agian."

Gage nodded and watched Jason walk off. He was so lost in thought about the game tomarrow that he nearly forgot about the kid sitting behind his counter. He turned to his quietly, waiting to make aboslutley sure he was gone and smiled agian.

"I'm Gage. I believe I've seen you before." He paused for a moment and shook his hands "Don't tell me I'll get it, uh-" He thought for several seconds, making a face that should tell someone he was really trying, but eventually gave up, "I wanna say the coffee shop not to far from here but I'm 90% sure I'm wrong."


Can we pretend airplanes are shooting stars?
Dae grinned, climbing to his feet to shake the other man’s hand. “Hi!!! I’m Daemon!” He had a strong grip for somebody who spent a lot of his time drawing designs in coffee. Dae was not exactly your typical artist. He was not muscular by any means, but easy on the eyes. He had tanned skin and pretty blue eyes, so dark they were almost purple. There was also a dark, jagged scar running from his cheek to behind his ear. Jordan had accidentally cut him when they’d been…going at it. For some reason, his boyfriend was really fond of holding a knife to his neck when they were doing stuff. Dae hadn’t understood it, and he hadn’t minded it up until then. He’d freaked at the sight of his own blood and asked him to stop. Come to think of it, that was the last time he’d seen Jordan. The man had stormed out, throwing his clothes on while cursing at Dae for being a ‘weakling’ or some shit.

“You’re right! That’s my place! I co-own it with a friend…oh wait no. The friend’s dead.” A small frown appeared on Dae’s usually happy face. “So...then I guess it’s my place. Yes! I own Past and Present Café!” He smiled widely at Gage, pulling his coat around him as a gust of wind messed up his hair and chilled him down to the bone. Despite the boiling summer air, here was Dae, wearing a trench coat and shivering. “Is it just me, or did everything get colder?” Dae demanded. He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to warm himself up. When that didn’t work, he rubbed them together and blew on them. “Dude, I’m not making stuff up, it’s actually freezing, what the hell.” He put one of his hands on Gage’s, trying to prove his point. He hadn’t been lying. His entire hand was a block of ice, as unlikely as that seemed. “I have really bad blood flow, maybe that’s what this is,” Dae mused, “You take bio, right? Blood flow affects body temperature, doesn’t it?”


Live, Die, Repeat
Gage's own easygoing mood changed to a little more restricted as he mentioned not only owning the coffee shop but used to have co-owned it. Gage himself knew how it was to lose someone close to him, but he never talked about it. Since his cousin killed herself he never really fully came back, more like stuck in some odd reality between truley happy and some sort of hidden depression only he himself knew about.

He shook Deameon's hand and was surprised by the strength of the shake. He wasnt easily wooed but Dea wasnt acutally the worst to look at, infect, he was extraordinary, though Gage would probably never let himself say it outloud. He noticed the scar and purposefully directed his attention somewhere else on him. Of anyone happened to see his scar, they always asked and probed about it.

Gage smiled a bit, "I applied to work there about a week ago-" He wasnt sure what all saying that to the owner would do for him, but he hadn't head anything in a week. He was just happy when Deameon changed the subject for him.

Gage shuddered at the cold touch of the cold mans hand and looked slightly worried. He wasnt big on science or math, more a history buff, but he knew this was good in the least. When he realized Dea had grabbed his hand, his face grew hot and he tried to hide that he was blushing.

Gages hair stuck out from his beanie slightly, leaning toward the left side. His green -almost calico- eyes sparkled in the sunlight and his smile widened into something that he himself found unattractive, but made no effort to stop. His hoodie covered his neck so his scar was hidden from view and he had the build of an athlete, definitely good for what sports he played. Not only his build but he height often came into play aswell.

Suddenly snapping back into the conversation he nodded, "Yeah I'm pretty sure that how that works." He couldn't help but snicker as he made a joke, "My bloodfloes excellent, that must be why people say I'm hot." Oh god, that couldnt have been any worse. Well- so much for making a good first impression.

"Anyway- do you need to sit or something? You look like your going to shiver so hard you'll fall over."


Can we pretend airplanes are shooting stars?
Dae’s face burned at the mention of Gage’s application. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he squeaked, turning crimson. “I haven’t managed to get around to those in about two months, oh my god…” He’d forgotten about the applications. They were currently piling up in a supply closet, smooshed up against the jams and bread.

Anthony claimed he couldn’t read. Dae suspected he simply didn’t want to deal with the paperwork. And since Daniel had died…well…Danny had always been the one who hired people. He was the smart one. “Okay, how about this…you’re hired. Like, right now. If you promise, you’ll help me out with the other applications.” Even as he talked, he was starting to panic. Two months’ worth of resumes, with about four a week. That was sixteen a month, meaning he had to read 32 papers. “I legit cannot even begin looking at the stuff…everyone’s so good at bullshitting their experience, and I don’t know who would actually be good at the job. And oh my god, Anthony doesn’t want to help me, and then there’s the whole staff training the newbies have to go through, and arghhh…”

Dae set down criss-cross on the hard ground, trying very hard to come back from his mini-panic attack. “Okay…okay, I’m good.” He breathed, doing the thing Mark had shown him. Focusing on three things he could hear. Gage talking was one of them, although he couldn’t focus on the man at the moment. The fans cheering just out of sight was another. And then his own breathing.

By the time he was done, he was calm enough to zone back in. Just in time to hear Gage’s ‘I’m hot’. “I mean, I’m not arguing with that one,” he smirked, climbing to his feet unsteadily. Dae looked up at the man, combing his purple and blue hair out of his eyes. The gesture drew attention to the paintbrush which he’d stuck behind his ear in the morning. It was splattered with bright red paint, speaking of the rush he’d been in that morning.

Every morning, Dae woke up to paint. He got in about three hours before he had to go to work. Well, technically, that’s how much time he was supposed to spend painting. In all reality, he often went over the schedule and ended up having to run to the store. He was such a mess almost everybody had given up trying to get his life in order.


Live, Die, Repeat
Gage considered his offer and nodded. He was broke off his ass and needed money to pay for the apartment and other dues. He needed the money, and he was a decent judge of character even if he didnt meet people face-to-face.

Gage beamed and nodded, "I wouldn't mind doing a little paperwork."

He listened to Demon ramble and worried about him. He watched him sit and quickly walked over and grabbed a water from the fridge. His shift covered the free drink and he hadn't had his yet, so that's it for Gage. He handed the water to Dea and watched him, making sure he was breathing correctly even though Gage kept talking on and on.

Gage's face lit up and he couldnt do anything but cover his face from embarrassment. He was doing everything in his power -it seemed- to make himself look like a self-absorbed child and he couldnt do anything about it anymore.

He noticed the paintbrush and the red paint. At first Gage thought he was bleeding, but he soon realized it was paint. When Dea stood he took a quick step toward him, grabbing his arm carefully to steady him.

"You like painting? Your hair should say something but I didnt put it together until I say the brush." Gage caught himself starring at Dea's eyes and agian blushed.

Why was Deamon so good looking? Why did Gage feel so awkward around him?
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Can we pretend airplanes are shooting stars?
Daemon smiled a relieved sort of smile at Gage, feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted off his chest. “You are a lifesaver. Truly,” he breathed, watching Gage’s worried eyes on him with a bemused smile. His shrink used to have the same look on his face. So did the AA people. Like he was about to fall apart before their eyes. “I have anxiety, not angina.” He informed the man, passing him some money for the water and proceeding to grimace when the ice cold liquid hit his throat. “I promise that if Imma collapse and die on your floor, I’ll give you a warning beforehand.” His tone was serious, as was the way he held himself while saying that, but his eyes was alight with laughter. He sounded like he had experience with dying on other peoples’ floors.

“I dooooo!!!” Dae exclaimed happily, pulling the paintbrush out with a somewhat confused grin. “I seriously forgot that was there,” he said, not knowing whether to be embarrassed or not.

Gage had grabbed his arm. The shorter man smirked, giving Gage the look. “Geeze, man. Take me to dinner first,” he teased. And then turned a darker shade of red than his splattered paintbrush because Oh my god what if he’s straight? I mean, I don’t think his straight, but what if he is? “Shit, sorry,” he sputtered out, pulling his arm back. “I haven’t seen a straight person in a while, so I’m just used to hitting on everyone and not expecting backlash. I’m sorry.”


Live, Die, Repeat
Gage nodded and smiled "Glad to help. I dont mind either doing paper work or cleaning. I suppose both if thats what you need." He listened to Dea ridiculing him and rolled his eyes "Geeze sorry I uh- I just worry about people a little to much. I-I appologise"

He listened to Dea talking about letting him die on the floor and he couldnt help but grumble. He didnt like people talking about death, especially their own, but he just listened to his talk, hoping it was just talk, and rolled his eyes as Dea laughed at himself. Death for Gage wasnt an easy subject but honestly he never told anyone about it, just add that to his big long list.

When Deamon mentioned Gages sexuality and his own he couldnt help but laugh. Usually people told him he radiated gay, but Deas confusion was hilarious. But then what he was saying acutally stuck and he choked on his laugh.

"I guess I should" He choked agian and let Deamon pull away. He noticed Dea's blush and smirked "That's a lovely shade of red. More vibrant than that paint color." Jesus he couldnt flirt. Even his best attempt came out somewhat forced.

"Y-you know I'll just stop. I-I dont know what I'm doing."

That was the cold hard truth. He had never been in a relationship ever in his life, and he barely knew when someone was hitting on him. His flirting was really just telling the straightforward truth and that was to much for people, so he just retracted into himself and never went out with anyone. Hell, the hadn't even had his first damn kiss yet.
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Can we pretend airplanes are shooting stars?
Daemon sighed, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “We’re both useless, aren’t we?” he asked, more exasperated at himself than anything else. “Just two people…who don’t know how to flirt.” It wasn’t like he had any excuse, either. Before the gang helped him out with money, he’d had to sleep with quite a few people so he wouldn’t starve. One would think he’d have gotten really good at flirting.

“Okay, so…I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked, looking the man over. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but Gage looked good. Like, really good. He was really digging the piercings and the beanie. Nope. Dae, you have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who only dropped by every five weeks. So what? He has stuff going on. Yeah, well it doesn’t feel very good. OKAY, moving on.

“Oh, by the way,” Daemon added as an after thought. “If you have any music you wanna play while you’re at work, feel free to bring it. I’ll admit it, I’m getting tired of Vivaldi and Mozart, but that’s all Anthony ever brings.” He didn’t wanna upset the man by asking him to change the music. But if Gage brought his own, then it wouldn’t be a problem. He hoped. For someone who could rock the apron and man-bun look, Anthony was a scary dude.

He slipped out from behind the stand, running a hand through his purple-blue hair with a charming smile. “Come in whenever you can, and we’ll talk money and what shifts you wanna work.”

Just as he was about to walk away, his eyes landed on a tall, raven haired man making his way through the crowd. “Oh shit,” he breathed, backing up into the counter as Jordan neared. “Hi,” he squeaked, feeling guilty.

Jordan was a solid man with curly black hair which hung way past his shoulders and an eagle tattoo on his neck. He had chocolate brown eyes and dark skin. And quite the angry look on his face. “Who’s this?” he demanded, nodding towards Gage. “New employee?” Dae asked, crossing his arms over his body uncomfortably. Jordan frowned. It was terrifying. “Yeah, no. You didn’t ask me about this.”

“But? It’s my store?” Dae wasn’t sounding so sure of himself right about now. “I helped you play for it,” the bigger man retorted. “I should get a choice here.” The smaller man looked up at Jordan, his face heating up. Whether it was from embarrassment or anger, no one knew. He bit his tongue though, straightening up and uncrossing his arms from his chest. “I’m sorry. I’ll ask you next time.” He pulled out his phone, switched it on, and turned it so Jordan could see the flashing clock on it. “You’re seven hours late, by the way. So. Date’s off. Go home.”


Live, Die, Repeat
Gage nodded as Dea slipped over the counter, "I'll make sure to bring some, what would you prefer?" Gage didn't feel the music he listened to would be of interest to anyone, I mean, who would want to listen to rock in a coffee shop? The least he could do was help with paper work, and even a small thing like music. The man HIRED him, that was the most kindness he had been shown in a while. Besides, this was kind of a trade. He did the paper work -which he didn't mind doing- and Dea had hired him and payed him for that work. Finally I can breathe. No more robbing banks for a living. Gage had become so broke he and a few others got together and robbed a few banks every three weeks. Holding people at gunpoint was about as scary as being on the other end of the gun. He was just releaved that something was finally changing for the better of him.

Before Dea could answer his question someone walked up, and by the looks on his face, he was NOT happy what-so-ever. The man was about as tall as he was, which would usually make him squirm, but when he started demanding from Dea who he was it actually started to piss him off. The mans "Yeah, no. You didn't ask me about this." made Gage want to bitch slap the guy right there.

"You ever heard of an investor?" Gage asked, interupting was he thought was going to become a fight. "If so, you would know that an investor, well, INVESTS money into a project or idea in order for it to become a reality." Since when did you sound like you weren't an idiot Gage? Pretty sure your going to get your ass kicked here in a minute. "Which ultimatley means that yes, being an investor has its perks, you don't OWN the shop, just helped it along it's way." He crossed his arms and glared at the man, ignoring completely what Dea had said about a date. He didn't have time for heart crushing thoughts at that moment.

If there was one thing he remebered about dudes like this, it was that they liked to swing for the jaw, which would knock you out and beat the shit out of you while you where down. He was already trying to search for a weakpoint on the guy, but he seemed to be built out of literal steal. Gage started to fear if the man did come after him, he wouldn't make it out unscathed. He did, however, have the advantage of the counter, but Dea had proved it easy to jump over. He looked around and nearly grumbled. There was next to no way he could defend himself, good, all those self defense classes he took when he was younger was failing him. Thats $200 in the trash, thanks for nothing mom. He glared at the man longer, his rage at everything and nothing at the same time building up. Ohhhh- how he wanted to kick his ass. His fist told him one thing, but his mind told him another, he was torn, and didn't know what to do other than wait for the other mans move.

"I subjest you leave." Gage barked at him. Before I remove you myself.


Can we pretend airplanes are shooting stars?
Daemon’s eyes went wide as he felt the tension around them start to escalate. There was no doubt that his man could take Gage. Jordan was tall, well built, and packed a hell of a punch. Dae rubbed a spot on his jaw where the phantom pain still lingered. He’d made the mistake of pissing his boyfriend off so many times. Most of the times Jordan hit him, it was his fault. Other times, they were just ‘going at it roughly’ as Jordan liked to call it. Daemon didn’t really mind, as long as he didn’t have to deal with bruises. They were bad for business.

At the words ‘I suggest you leave’, Daemon actually flinched. You’re both so damn stupid. No one ordered Jordan around. It didn’t happen. Not even Anthony ordered him around. Admittedly, Anthony had grabbed Jordan by the collar and physically dumped him outside the coffee shop at one point, but he hadn’t wasted time speaking. He’d just picked Jordan up and carried him outside. Which was the only way to deal with people like Daemon’s boyfriend.

“Okay. Um.” Daemon slowly inserted himself between the two glowering men, hopping up to sit on the counter and block Gage from Jordan’s view. “Hi,” he said, waving a hand in front of Jordan’s eyes. “He’s not worth it,” he told his boyfriend, dying internally. He didn’t wanna know what Gage was thinking about when he heard that. “Take me home,” he nearly begged Jordan. “I haven’t seen you in so long, Sir.” That last word tasted vile on his tongue. He swallowed it, however, giving Jordan his best grin. “Come on…you’ve missed the last five dates.”

Daemon let go of a relieved breath when Jordan’s attention was directed back to him. He was angry, yes. Dae was probably gonna pay for that line later.

“I missed the last five dates because you’ve been driving me insane,” Jordan growled, physically picking him up off the counter, and setting him down. It was quite an impressive feat, considering Dae himself wasn’t the smallest twig on the tree. The artist acted like he couldn’t pick up heavy stuff, and he moaned and groaned at the thought of carrying crates, but truth be told, he was quite lean. He’d worked in an Ikea for a while, and the muscles he’s built up hadn’t exactly disappeared over night.

“How am I driving you insane?” Dae asked, slowly starting to move away from the counter and hoping Jordan would follow him. His eyes tracked Dae, but he didn’t move. “You keep going and talking to guys like him,” Jordan snapped. “There’s worse people I could talk to…” Dae’s words tumbled out of his mouth, uncensored. He shouldn’t have said that. He knew even before he looked up and saw the bloody murder in his boyfriend’s eyes that it was the wrong thing to say. “Really?” Jordan’s voice was calm now, a silent storm brewing underneath his tone. It was terrifying. “Like who?”

“Like you,” the artist replied, before he could stop himself. It was the truth. But some truths didn’t need to be said out loud.

He didn’t even bother to throw up his hands to shield his face. It was useless. However quick he was, Jordan was bigger, stronger, and faster. Which is why it surprised him when his boyfriend didn’t go for his jaw. He went for his stomach instead. A brutal punch which knocked the wind out of him and threw him backwards against the counter. It was only after Jordan walked away, leaving him gasping, that he noticed the blood.

The blood which was soaking up his white shirt and dripping down his skin. The blood which made no sense. Except for when you saw the knife. He clutched at it, his skin white, whether it was from fear or shock, he couldn’t tell. “Well…shit,” he wheezed. “Guess this means we’re over?”


Live, Die, Repeat
Gage stood glaring for a moment before Dea actually sat up on his counter and started talking to Jordan. Had he really flinched when he threatened Jordan? When Dea said, "He's not worth it," Gage wanted to pass out. There, you got it and thats all you needed. Should have figured as much. Why can't you ever just NOT have a thing for people out of your fucking league? He couldn't see Jordan's face, but he was pretty sure if he had, that face wouldn't leave his sight without a decent buising, and Gage wouldn't leave without a broken rib or something catastrophically wounded. As Dea talked on and on, his anger shifted from having no reason other than Jordan being an ass to there acutally being a reason.

So, now Gage knows they are together and that Jordan had skiped out on Deamon. Who the hell does that? Five fucking times! Gage wanted to punch the wall, and might have if Deamon hadn't asked what he was doing that was diving Jordan away. "You keep going and talking to guys like HIM," Gage acutally scoffed. "And you wonder why." He barked. He knew this wasn't his place, and that he didn't have a right to talk, but this dude felt that the best way to, what?- get some time alone and solve a problem was to completely ignore them completley? Who the hell did this asshole think he was?

As they talked on and on he started to calm down, but that was brief. He saw the swing, the hit, and Deamon just took it. When Deamon fell Gage flew over the counter with an almost unnatural grace and landing. He would have gone after Jordan, but his mind was on the knife sticking out of Deamon's side, blood soaking into his white shirt, forever staining it a sickening red color. It reminded him of the red color on Deamon's paintbrush and wanted to puke. He wasn't used to seeing this much blood in one place. Him being in multiple sports, he was bound and almost determined to get himself hurt in one way or another. One thing that he was paying off was a hospital bill for his broken arm from Wrestling. Well, maybe not the match exactly, afterward they had gotten into a fight because the idiot thought thought Gage had somehow cheated. Payed the ref or something, he wasn't quite sure, but Gage had broken the kids ribs before he got ahold of his arm.

"Shit" He muttered and looked around for something to remove the knife and at least slow the bleeding a little. He remebered in a class he took, he couldn't remember what, but the more pressure that was applied the better. He looked around and somehow no one had seemed to notice, or did and they didn't care. Stabbings where common around here. He glanced around the area for something he could use as a temporary bandadge and groaned.

"Here, I'm going to take off my shirt, and you can apply it to the wound." He slipped off his shirt with a quick grace and placed it around the knife. He also knew that if he removed the knife, it could potentially cause him to bleed out faster, "Try to keep your breathing steady and deep, nothing irratic, the less movement the better right now." He kept himself calm though his hands where shaky as he grabbed his phone from his back pocket. The wind blew, chilling his bare back, but he didn't really feel it, he was numb with worry.

After a moment he dialed the nearest hospital and answered a few questions regaurding Deamon's condition. They would be there in 10 minutes. "Shit" He wasn't usually this 'vibrant' with his lanaguage, usually keeping it inside his head while he thought alone. He was startled at how quickly his face lost color and thought of something to keep him awake incase he was close to slipping into unconciousness. "Lucky you got stabbed here and I was working. Also lucky that I know what to do." He sat next to him, leaning agiant the counter and groaned. "I'm just really sorry. I feel like this is all my fault." Well, of course it was his fault, but he was more worried about keeping Deamon occupied than what had happened. Then, a thought struck him. If the police came, he would probubly get arrested for assisted murder or some shit, get sentence, and then. . .well he would go to jail for about- oh, how many years was is? 5 if it was on accident, manslaughter or something, and if they found out about his- job, before being hired by Dea, that would be. . . too long, way way too long. T-that won't happen, right? No one knows about it, and they won't haul me off for this, right? He looked at Dea, smiling a bit, "Shit, I guess it is my fault huh?"


Can we pretend airplanes are shooting stars?
Daemon squeezed his eyes shut, holding in his breath and trying to ignore the feeling of sickeningly warm blood pouring down the front of his shirt. The air around them had gotten that metallic scent he’d unknowingly started to associate with his boyfriend. Ex boyfriend? Stabbing someone pretty much meant you were done with them, right?

“I bet,” Daemon breathed, removing his hand from the wound as to not feel the blood any longer, “that in a week, he’ll show up saying he’s sorry…” It had happened before. When the bigger man had fucked up his face, Daemon had practically run out of his apartment and hidden in the coffee shop. Fast forward two days, and Jordan was pushing him against the wall, kissing him and mumbling he was sorry. That he hadn’t meant to freak the artist out. It was an accident, Jordan had said.

A wave on nausea passed over Daemon when he tried to open his eyes. A glimpse of the crimson blood flowing out of him was enough to make him close them again, leaning against the booth behind him. “I kinda deserved it, didn’t I?” he asked Gage, starting to feel light headed. He didn’t want to touch the wound, and as a result, he was bleeding out fast. “He wouldn’t have done it…if I didn’t deserve it…”

Curiously enough, it didn’t hurt. Maybe it was shock, or maybe he’d gotten used to Jordan cutting into him. If the man had wanted to cause him pain, he should have hit him. One well placed right hook was all it took to get Daemon silent anyway.

Gage’s words came out in a muffled blur, the artist being only semi-conscious by that point. There was comfortable darkness waiting for him. He wanted to go in it so badly. Just fall into a deep, dreamless sleep where no one could bother him. It was only when he felt more cloth pressed against his stomach and wrapped around the knife that he cracked an eye open. He didn’t look down, instead gazing at Gage with unfocused eyes. “Shouldn’t I take out the knife? It’ll get infected, won’t it?” He didn’t have much experience with knife wounds.

When the gang members dropped by the café to be patched up, they usually wanted shit taken out. Bullets, pieces of rubble. So why the hell had Gage wrapped his shirt around the blade? Oh wait…his shirt.

That woke Daemon up real good. The artist openly stared at Gage, something like admiration lighting up his eyes. “If I had known you’d take your shirt off,” he half-grinned, “I would have gotten myself stabbed a lot earlier.” Yeah, he was probably dying, and yeah, his boyfriend was the cause. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate what he was seeing. And damn, Gage looked good. Daemon had officially gained a sexy nurse, no? “Would this be a bad time to tell you you’re hot?” he asked, only half joking. If these were his last minutes on Earth, then he’d die looking at something he liked.

“Aww man, you’ll ruin your shirt,” Daemon remembered, his face darkening. “My sister always said blood is really hard to wash out…and she bled a lot, so I’m inclined to believe her.” The artist’s words were coming out slurred, and he’d slumped against Gage’s booth, unable to keep his back straight any longer. The pain was slowly starting to make itself known, and it was becoming harder and harder to stay awake.

It was only when Gage called the hospital that he started to panic. “Wait, no,” he mumbled, “what are you doing?” Jordan would get arrested. He’d be sent to jail if they found out. “Dude, no…he’ll get in trouble.” He clutched the edge of Gage’s booth, trying to pull himself up, “The coffee shop is not far…I’ve got a first aid kit,” If Jordan got sent away because of him, he’d never hear the end of it. “You can’t…they can’t find us here…”

He struggled to make it to his feet, slipping several times and unknowingly pushing the knife deeper every time he moved. “We can make it…” He couldn’t let Jordan go to jail. If he did, not only would he absolutely murder him when he got out, but Jordan would also blab about Daemon’s…previous job.

Finally, he managed to stand up, a wave of nausea hitting him so hard he stumbled, blood starting to seep through Gage’s shirt. “Only across the street…” This was the worst possible moment to black out, wasn’t it? But karma decided, screw you… When he straightened up, the pain suddenly made itself known. Daemon gasped out, eyes flying open in shock as his body suddenly realised, hey you’ve been stabbed, bitch. The artist fell. The darkness rushed forward, enveloping him, shutting off everything. He hit his head on the booth as he went down, the skin splitting open in what would probably leave a hell of a scar.

For somebody who was scared of his own blood, the artist seemed to be bleeding a lot more than the average person.


Live, Die, Repeat
Gage grumbled to himself and glared straight ahead. "I honestly don't think that asshole deserves a guy like you. What he deserves is a punch to the throat and to get run over by a train." Gage didn't feel sorry about that he said, it was the brutal truth. "As far as I'm concered if he comes anywhere near you and I'm there to see it, he won't be getting within a few feet of your general area." Even through his concern he chuckled. He knew Dea wasn't hearing anything he was saying, and was okay with that.

After a bit as Dea talked, he started to blush, "'Tis in the eye of the beholder, how someone looks. If you think I'm hot, I'm pretty sure thats the nausea kicking in, and you actually have no idea what your talking about." He notcied Dea had moved his hand, and quickly pressed his own in it's place, keeping a constant pressure, "As for my shirt, I can always get a new one. Or sell it to that creep down the street from my house. Either way, it doesn't matter right now."

He blantantly ignored Dea's worry about Jordan getting in trouble and huffed. "What does it matter? All is well with him getting in trouble as far as I'm concerned." Oh shit, well I guess he is . . . was?- his boyfriend, so I guess it makes sense for him to worry. "He'll be fine. A guy like that will almost enjoy being locked up. Free food, a roof over your head, and even in some cases teaching if thats what you need."

Gage stood in alarm as Dea stood, saying they should go to his shop. In an instant, Dea blacked out and Gage quickly caught him, but not before he hit his head. "Damn it Deamon, I'm keeping my pants on so stop hurting yourself." He eased himself down agian, Dea in his arms, head propped up against his chest. Gage cursed himself for letting Dea stand and wished he could re-start this one day, wishing he had known that Jordan was going to stab Dea, known that Dea was going to over react and try and stand on his own. Dea's blood ran down his bare chest and he grumbled, keeping an eye, now, on both the cut on his head and the stab wound. Almost here, God please hurry . . . I'm losing him.

*Five days later*

Gage had, agian, been kicked out of Dea's hospital room for being there too long. For the last two days he hadn't slept, and over the period of five days hadn't consumed anything other than air, he just sat by Dea's side, hoping to be there when he woke up. Dea had become stable, both wounds now on their way to healing properly. He was exhausted, yes, but he didn't want to leave Dea alone and confused about anything. He had left the day before to eat, but he wasn't hungry, just sick with worry and guilt.

He stumbled downstrairs into the lobby where people buzzed in and out of the giftshop and swarmed around the food court. There where alot more people here than Gage remembered, but then agian, the days of sitting by Dea's side where starting to blend together. After a moment of looking around he walked out to the parking garage and picked up his car. When he was inside he muttered, "This has all been a shit-show. And for what? I've done nothing to deserve this." He drove home and nearly fell asleep on the way. Okay, maybe the nurse was right to make him come home and sleep. Eating was off the table, he hadn't been able to keep anything down the last five days.

He repetativley thought of what Dea had told him about how he looked, and everytime he smiled. Finally someone who thought of him in a positive way. Sure, he was the captain of the football team, but that didn't come without looks and talk curculating around him. He hadn't really cared, but this made him feel good, made him feel like he acutally could be seen as something other than what his status told.

He pulled into his driveway and sighed. Okay, he was going to allow himself minutes of sleep and then straight back.


At the hospital a young nurse stood near where Dea was sleeping, checking his vitals and wounds. She carefully and quietly moved around, not wanting to wake him up before his body was ready to permit it. She checked his IV's, and lowered the dose of the painkillers one unit. They where suppose to keep him on it for a few weeks, lowering it every few days to make sure he was getting just the right amount he needed. When she was done with that she noticed Dea began to wake up, so she spoke quietly and softly, assuming he would have one monster of a heachache.

"Hey there, how you doin'?" She asked as she worked replacing his bandages. "Your healing nicley, I have to say." She giggled and cleaned away anything that wasn't suppose to be there. "I have to say, you wouldn't have made it if your boyfriend hadn't have known what to do. Most people would have removed the knife, but somehow he knew that if he had, the artery it was sliced would have bled faster. The knife acted at a kind of plug even though you where already bleeding out. He might make one hell of a doctor one day." Agian, she giggled, "Or a model, I can see why you like him" she added and winked at him.

She stood and looked him over. Even though he was healing, his face still hadn't gained it's color and she was worried about it. She would have to note that to the doctor when she left. "But listen, if you need anything, you can push that button" she said refering to the small remote looking thing on the wooden table near the bed. "But, I do have to go, so I'll leave you time to think. We had to kick out your boyfriend because he looked ill himself. Wouldn't leave even to eat if we hadn't have almost literally pushed him out the door." She thought it was odd though, that he the first time he was gone he was gone for a half hour exactly. Maybe he was just the kind of person who schedualed everything, and literally everything. She walked out and bumped into Gage and she smiled. "He's awake."

Gage quickly walked inside the room, trying to contain his excitment about him being awake. "Hey, how you doin'?" He asked as he sat down beside him.


Can we pretend airplanes are shooting stars?
Dae woke up with the mother of all headaches. Hell, no. The grandmother of all headaches. His brain felt strange, as if it was full of cotton, and noises had a hard time passing through to him. All was dark, and comfortably warm. The artist couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes. His entire body was braced for his phone’s hideously loud screech, which was bound to come in at any time. It wasn’t unusual for him to wake before his alarm went off. What was strange was how soft everything around him was. He didn’t exactly own a bed, since art supplies cost a lot and they were more important than sleep. For a little over a year, he’d been curling up on his floor with his jacket for a blanket and his bag for a pillow. Had he fallen asleep at Jordan’s place? Was that why he had a headache? Had they stayed up really late doing stuff?

Daemon cracked open an eye to check and was greeted by the sight of an unusual room. The walls were white, and everything was painted in an unpleasantly bright artificial light. They burned his eyes in a way his handcrafted lamps never had and never would. “Ouch,” he mumbled, shutting his eyes and attempting to cover them with his hands for good measure. But as he tried to move his arms, his stomach made its complains known at the shift, sending up a jab of pain so intense it rippled through his entire body. Dae let out a breathy gasp, his hands tightening around the blanket in an attempt to work through it all as a single tear slid down his face. If he was at home, he would have been cursing like a motherforking sailor, but, at the moment, he had no idea where he was.

Horrible pictures flashed through his head, starting with the cops busting up the café and carrying away the gang members in handcuffs, and ending with him getting drugged, raped and cut up. What if he was a drug addict now? He’d just gotten over his alcohol addiction, and now this? Or what if everyone he knew was in jail? Could everybody be gone? Heart going haywire, breathing becoming shallow and fast, he attempted to get off the bed, find a phone and call someone. Anyone.

His head was still swimming in pain killers he hadn’t known he’d been pumped with, and he was hooked up to weird machines he discovered only when he sat up and felt the tug coming from his arm. Why am I in a hospital???? And what the hell is that?????? He ripped the tube out of his arm, much to the alarm of the other person in the room. The other person who Daemon could have sworn hadn’t been there a moment before. “Christ,” he breathed, making eye contact with the nurse. “Sorry, I didn’t see you.” She looked like she’d been talking for a while, but Daemon hadn’t been paying attention. The words had passed through one year and out the other, but he hadn’t processed any of them.

For all he knew, she could have been talking about intergalactic monkeys. The nurse kept on rambling on, Daemon only managing to catch some of the words. “Boyfriend?” he repeated, his mind flying directly to Jordan’s chocolate eyes and flawless dark skin. “Yeah, he’s pretty good looking, I guess…I’d prefer it if he wasn’t so angry all the time…” And if he returned calls. And if he didn’t show up at his house in the middle of the night for sex and nothing else. Literally. Jordan would come over, have his way with him, use his shower, and then leave. He wouldn’t spend the night, he wouldn’t eat. The last time he’d been over, they hadn’t even talked. Daemon had attempted to make conversation. Offered him coffee, asked how he was doing. And Jordan had choked him. The artist could still feel the imprint of Jordan’s hand on his throat, the struggle to breathe mixed with dark spots appearing before his eyes. Now that he was sitting up, he could move his hands without bothering his stomach, which for some reason was wrapped in bandages, and he took full advantage, fingers going to his neck and brushing up against the half moon cuts Jordan’s nails had left.

The longer he was awake, the more memories were slowly coming back. Gage and his gorgeous green eyes. Jet black hair and piercings. Gage talking back to Jordan when everybody was lowkey scared to do so. Gage with his shirt off after Jordan had stabbed him. The nurse left, just as the horrible realization came over him. “HOLLY FUCK,” Jordan had stabbed him. Who the fuck does that, why the hell would he stab me, what did I say to him, holly hell, does this mean we’re done? No, oh god, I don’t remember what life is like without him, he can’t just stab me and leave, holly fuck, what in the bleeding hells am I supposed to do now????? “He stabbed me…” Daemon forgot how to breathe. How did people do it? “The little bitch stabbed me.”

Okay. He got it, Jordan was a kinky bastard. He liked handcuffs, and riding crops, and blindfolds, and knife play. But nobody went around stabbing people. Hell, Daemon could have died. He would have died if Gage hadn’t been there. Jordan had been in his life for years. Daemon had taken Jordan in when he was alone, and starving on the streets. He’d introduced him to the Nick, the gang boss. He’d given him food, and a home, and an in to the biggest family of the city. And now the bitch went and stabbed him? Caused him so much pain he wasn’t even able to move? Ah damn. Does this mean I won’t be able to do stuff? While Jordan was a crappy person, his equipment worked, and he was good at using it, despite all the drawbacks it came with. Emotionally, he’d left Daemon starved. But physically, he’d gotten him addicted. And this was one addiction Daemon didn’t want to get rid off. Well shit, he thought. Guess this really was the ultimate ‘fuck you’ from Jordan, wasn’t it…

By the time Gage entered the room, Daemon didn’t know how to feel anymore. He was angry, and hurt, and wanted to die. “Hey there,” he breathed, his anxiety going down by about two degrees the moment Gage sat down on the bed. “I’m not sure. Better now that you’re here,” The artist was leaning against the backboard of the bed, trying to move as little as possible. “They drugged me,” he complained, nodding towards the morphine drip. “I know it’s a dumb thing to worry about considering I’ve just been stabbed, but I have a bad problem with addictions.” He was just whining now, talking to fill the silence. Truth be told, he was dying to ask why Gage seemed to be surviving on coffee fumes alone. The man looked like he hadn’t slept in over three days, poor guy. “Did I say thank you for saving my life?” Daemon asked, his dark blue eyes focused intently on Gage’s face. “I probably should have started with that…”

He reached over and got ahold of Gage’s hand, looking up into the man’s bright green eyes. “Okay, let me do that again. Hi Gage. Thank you for saving my life. I owe you one. How are you? Why do you look like Hades’ pet dog chewed you up?” His concern regarding Gage’s appearance was almost comical. Daemon brushed a few stray locks of hair from Gage’s face, tucking them behind the man’s ear. The artist loved his hair. It would be so easy to draw. And if he used oil paints, he could capture the way it snuck out from underneath Gage’s beanie perfectly. “You are a very drawable person,” he mused, setting his hands back in his lap, hovering just above the white bandages.