Haunted Roads

Seattle. How long had it been since he'd walked these streets? They were familiar and foreign to him now. Dark alleys that he once had known too well now lit up by new building lights. Each step was tentative as he moved, as though he were waiting for the next one to send him falling and spiraling back to where he'd been. He wasn't even sure how he had made it this far. Running, hiding, she knew where he was going to head. It was only a matter of time before she'd be walking right next to him with a smirk on her lips and a pat to his head like a puppy. Yes he knew he was running on a short time schedule....but he didn't care.

He had to get back. He had to know.... For so many years it was hinted they were dead and gone. So many times dangled in his face that he had nothing to go back to now. He had refused to believe it, unwilling to ever accept it....but he didn't know what he was coming back to. Even as he'd raced here he wasn't sure what to expect. It had been years now...did he think if they were alive they were waiting for him? Yes part of him had hoped for just that...and another part had hoped for the opposite. Did he really want them sitting around not moving forward because of him?

Could he take it if they had moved on?

So many questions shoved aside as he walked the streets. The cold had so many huddling indoors and yet Bastian didn't blink an eye. A tattered leather jacket was all that kept him from the cold. The same one from all those years ago, it had seen better days. But so had Bastian. Eyes looked hollow, dark circles lay under the eyes and his once fit form now was worn thin. He needed to feed, he could feel the need at the back of his thoughts slowly trying to push its way forward. Or was that her?

He kept walking.

One step, another, he knew where he was going. Back to the bar, they had to be at the bar. Back to where all this began. Back to where it had all gone bad. Back to where the bitch decided to strip his life away. Back to where he used to work, where he used to sing, where he used to smile.

( Back....to closed doors? )

When: Night
Where: Club
Who: Tavin and....

Loud. Pounding. Screaming. Thudding. Fucking annoying. And the music played on. Tavin was seated to the back of the club nearly cloaked completely in shadows and out of sight and mind of many in the place. Only those that needed to know where he was knew. He hated Saturdays. Sit in the club and feed the addictions of any made up freak that came on by looking to score. No words, just a flash of cash and an exchange. Normally someone else was given this job, Tavin had earned some sway and that sway tended to keep him out of the grunt jobs. Tonight some bitch was sick and Tavin was the one picking up the slack. Good worker he was he didn't bitch but it was damn known he wasn't happy.

Two days going on three now, sleep was fucking over rated. Jerzy was going to give him shit. Kid knew to let it go when Tavin gave him that look though. That this isn’t the damn time to get on my case about anything sort of look. Tavin was already wearing it. Little bitch addicts didn't care though. So long as they got what they wanted they could care less about the one giving it to them.

He had had plans for today. Appointment to get some ink done. Take the kid out for some dinner. Yeah little shit but for Tavin time wasn't exactly something he had a whole lot of. Saturdays during the day he was supposed to get it. Supposed to was the key word lately. More work, more responsibilities, more cash too. But if he had to listen to one more young kid's voice cracking as he tried to scream his emo-tastic fucking lyrics he was going to have to tear someone’s head off.

Enhanced hearing had its downsides. Tonight was one of them.

Tavin rolled his neck a bit, adjusting a bit to make himself comfortable. He had at least another two hours, till the bar shut down and a little after. The long haul, he wasn't going to get to escape this crap like he'd been hoping. A quick text to the kid was at least issued so he wouldn't wait up or anything. Course he probably would anyways, kid didn't always like to listen. If it was possible it might piss Tavin off, but one person that Tavin could never get mad at was his kid brother. He was also the only person Tavin didn’t lie to. Everyone else was fair game.

A twenty was slipped into the pocket of a worker who came by, snatching up his empty glass and handing over another. Strong liquor wasn't near strong enough tonight. Took too many to get a buzz on and no buzz was going to be enough to make this scene any better. Twenty each time kept the girl showing up though, bit of liquor was better then no liquor at all right now.

Boots went up onto the table, Tavin leaned back into the cracked and worn seat, phone in his hands. Texting rather then paying any attention to the club. He didn’t give a fuck who was on the dance floor or who was hitting on who. No drunken drama or want to mingle. He was there for one reason only. A reason that came by and giggling offered up some cash. Tavin slipped the goods over, grabbing the girls arm to make her linger a bit. Make it look like they were old pals, keep it all friendly like. Tavin knew better then to make it obvious what he was doing. He’d been in this game a long time.