2. armour

CHAPTER TWO

ARMOUR

—

Five years.

It had been five whole years since Dmitri had last seen him.

He didn't expect it to hurt this much.

"Fuck," he muttered, shoving his hands into his hair as he tried to calm his racing thoughts, bullet-like memories ricocheting off the walls of his brain, ones that he had spent years trying to suppress, because fuck, while they were some of the best memories of his life, they were awful. "God fucking damnit."

Somehow, Dmitri had managed to leave the scene before Tariq could say anything else, before Trinh could question him anymore, and had found himself in the back room of The Blackbird. Empty shelves lined the walls, and there was a frayed mop that was resting against a box, sad and pathetic. Me too, mop. Me too.

Sighing, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, sending a quick text to Eden, asking her to check if the guy in the black t-shirt was still there. Right at that moment, the sound of the door clicking open, and a ping was heard, Eden entering the back room.

"I'm assumin' you sent that text?" Eden asked, plopping down beside him with a soft huff. "What's up?"

Dmitri just shook his head, instinctively chewing the inside of his cheek, despite the voice in his brain yelling at him to stop doing it, that he was hurting himself.

"Okay, so—" He started, cursing mentally when a metallic taste filled his mouth. Oh fuck. "Okay. Do you remember that ex of mine? The one I told you about?"

A pinched expression appeared on Eden's face, clouded with utter confusion. "D, the two of us were high out of our fuckin' minds when you spilt your trauma to me, I don't remember shit," she admitted.

Letting out a laugh at that, Dmitri nodded. "My relationship wasn't traumatic, but yes, I did spill my trauma at the same time I told you about my failed relationship," he agreed, thoughts momentarily calming down around Eden, finally allowing him to breathe. "Well, my ex is here. With his sister."

Eden frowned, eyeing Dmitri warily. "Where?"

Wait, did no one else see him?

"The dude in the black t-shirt," Dmitri explained, praying that he wasn't the only one who saw Tariq. That would really solidify his theory that he was losing his fucking mind. "Dark hair, slight stubble. Thick eyebrows." Nice eyes, exactly five feet, six and a half inches, very slightly crooked teeth.

Body tensing up, Eden muttered a soft curse and shook her head, leaving Dmitri feeling more confused than ever. "Tariq? Your ex is Tariq?"

In an instant, Dmitri's blood ran cold, sledgehammer slamming against his chest, until all that was left was pure fucking damage. "Fuck," he whispered, voice hoarse, like he hadn't used it for weeks. "E, what the fuck? You know him? He works here?"

Pity was painted on Eden's face when she nodded, opening her mouth to say something, probably comfort him, assure him that he'd probably never have to see him there.

Unfortunately, she was interrupted by Trinh opening the door, urging Dmitri to come out with a loud, "I need you to get out for a second, just—" They stopped, head poking into the room, only to look at Dmitri and raise their eyebrows. "Are you okay, Dmitri? You just left out of nowhere."

No. While Eden knew about his bullshit life, and all the shit he had forced himself to deal with in highschool and college, he had no intentions of telling Trinh, or anyone else, for that matter. There was just no need.

"Yeah, I'll—" He shot a look at Eden, who just shrugged, looking confused out of her fucking mind. "Yeah. Everything's fine."

With a grim smile, one that felt painful to plaster onto his face, Dmitri blindly followed Trinh out of the room, turning around to check if Eden was behind him. He was following, following, following, until he crashed right into their body, a string of curses leaving his mouth immediately after.

"Shush," Trinh stated, silencing him and raising their head up to look at him. "This is Tariq, he's the guy I told you about, Dmitri! He works upstairs, does tattoos and piercings for people, super talented dude, your age, I think. Hey, Tariq, you're—"

"Tattoos?"

Dmitri didn't know how much of an impact just one word could have, but apparently, it was enough to start a fire.

"Hm?" was all Tariq said in response to that, but Dmitri knew that tone. It was the defensive one.

"You never liked tattoos."

Almost at once, Tariq's eyes became guarded, shields raising up behind them. "Guess not."

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Why did I open my mouth? Why are we doing this? How the fuck did this even happen?

Trinh perked up next to Dmitri, their eyes sparkling when they said, "You guys know each other? That's great! How long has it been since you two saw each other?"

All Dmitri wanted to do was get a job, earn money to pay his rent, and live his life. That was all he had wanted to do.

This was definitely not what he had wanted to do.

"Last time we saw each other was before I went to college," he muttered, refusing to make eye contact with anyone, not Trinh, not Tariq, not Zoya in the back, slyly listening in on the conversation that was ensuing.

A beat of silence passed by, one that felt like a whole minute, when finally, Tariq said, "College? You went to college?"

That was it. Sharp jabs, low blows— those were Tariq's trademark.

Fortunately, they were Dmitri's trademark, too.

"And clearly, you didn't."

Humming, Trinh patted Dmitri's arm and squeezed it. "I'll let the both of you catch up, Eden looks like she wants to talk to me!" they chirped, before bounding off in the other direction.

God, Trinh could be the most oblivious person to exist.

Exactly thirteen seconds passed by, Dmitri was keeping count, until Tariq inhaled deeply, wiping his face down with his hand and shaking his head.

"You know Trinh?" he questioned, voice the same as it always was, hoarse and gravelly, like he had a permanent sore throat.

Dmitri shrugged, eyes desperate to just look at Tariq, just once, look into his eyes. But he couldn't let himself do that. Look at him, directly into his eyes. "Trinh's my roommate's partner. Eden is— she's my roommate."

Scoffing, Tariq shook his head. "Fuck. That's fucking great." What is? "They don't know that we dated, I'm assuming?" he asked, slowly lowering himself onto one of the stools next to the counter.

How could he say it so easily? Dmitri was barely holding himself together, he could barely function, submerged in his thoughts, a drop of water in an endless fucking sea.

Then again, Tariq was always good at hiding how he really felt from everyone. Well, from everyone except Dmitri.

"Eden knows, I'll tell Trinh after I tell them that I can't work here," Dmitri managed to say, trying his very best to keep his voice even. He wasn't sure if it was working or not.

Finally, a semblance of emotion flickered through the crack in Tariq's expression. Confusion. "You want to work here?"

"Wanted to. Not so sure anymore."

Tariq nodded, lips curling upward in amusement. "Understandable," was all he said, before scanning Dmitri up and down, not even bothering to hide the fact that he was doing it, since he had no fucking morals whatsoever.

"Stop it," Dmitri muttered, suddenly painfully aware of the material of his shirt against his torso, of the way his skin was still flaming from when he first saw Tariq. He had never been more thankful for his melanin. "Stop fucking— stop checking me out. Bitch."

"Not checking you out," Tariq declined. "Just making sure you haven't forgotten how to dress" he affirmed, a soft chuckle escaping his mouth, and for a fleeting moment, things felt normal.

But, almost as soon as the normalcy came, it disappeared, that single chuckle causing Dmitri to snap out of his momentary trance.

"Fuck this," Dmitri said, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair, before realising that he barely had any hair to tug at. "Fuck, Ri, what the fuck?"

Only after the words left Dmitri's mouth, did he realise what he had just called Tariq.

Shoulders tensing, Tariq glanced at Dmitri, sighing softly. "We won't see each other," he reassured, honey skin glinting in the sunlight, and fuck, Dmitri had never hated him more. "I work upstairs, you work downstairs. We won't have to see each other, and we can just— we can go about our lives."

Could they? Everything was such a fucking mess. "Yeah." Head clouded with fog, Dmitri nodded, even though he definitely didn't believe Tariq's words. Mental reminder: Start searching for a new job. "Yeah."

By the looks of it, Tariq didn't believe his own words either. He turned his head around, shooting a look at the tables behind him, where Zoya was seated.

"Do you—" Tariq started, words coming out uncertain. Hesitant. "Never mind," he decided, shields behind his eyes up again.

"What?"

Tariq shook his head. "Jesus, Dmitri, I can't believe you're here. I can't fucking stand you. Fuck."

And that was the last thing he said, before turning around and leaving, making his way back to where Zoya was sitting, her eyes— the exact same as Tariq's— taking in his face as she muttered something to him, something that Dmitri couldn't understand.

There was absolutely nothing that could have prepared him for this. Nothing.

Out of nowhere, Dmitri felt a gentle hand on his bicep, and he just knew that it was Eden. It always was. Head snapping around, he glanced at Eden, just shaking his head, despite Eden not saying anything, his own words not allowing themself to come out of his mouth.

"Everythin' okay?"

Again, he just shook his head. Because nothing was okay right now. And he wasn't sure if things would ever be okay, as long as he was in this environment, surrounded by the one person who used to make him feel safe, the one person who made him fall apart.

"D, you need to talk to me, 'cause I'm in the dark right now, and I don't even have a fuckin' flashlight," Eden huffed out. "Bitch, I'm a poet."

Laughing softly, Dmitri took Eden's hand and slunk back into the back room, leaning against the wall. "I dated Tariq. And we broke up. And I know that highschool relationships are mostly bullshit, I mean, I teach— well, taught— highschoolers. They're all stupid. We were all fucking stupid in highschool," he rambled, mouth moving faster than his brain.

Before Eden could say anything else, Dmitri was talking again. I should shut up. "But shit, E, I loved him so much. No joke, I've never felt safer around a person, and shit got so fucked up, and— I don't even know, he was literally the safest person. Whenever shit went down at home, he was there. He was always there, and then, he just wasn't, and I don't—"

"Hey." Eden reached her foot out, lightly kicking Dmitri in his shin. "You're not gonna see him around much, okay? He works upstairs, you work downstairs. Just ignore him."

In theory, that would have been good advice, but Dmitri wasn't really listening anymore, mind searching through the compartments in his brain for another job he could get.

"Is there any other job that I could get?" he asked, clutching at straws at this point, because he didn't know what the fuck else to do. "There should be something, right?"

Eden sighed and pursed her lips. "This is a good job, it pays the bills, you and Trinh can carpool. It's a good option, take it, Dmitri," she instructed, and Dmitri knew that she was right. Of course she was. She even used his full name and everything.

"Hide me when we leave, please," he mumbled, slowly opening the door and poking his head out to check if anyone was around. Fortunately for him, Tariq and Zoya were the only two people at a table. Unfortunately for him, Tariq and Zoya were the only two people at a table.

So, Eden tried her best to hide him, despite her being a good six inches shorter than him. Which wasn't that hard, to be honest, since he was well over six feet, and Eden was way above the average height for a woman.

As they were leaving, Dmitri couldn't help but turn around, because as much as he didn't want to, he needed to, just one more look.

Tariq chose that exact moment to make eye contact with Dmitri, and honestly, the only thing he could feel was distaste, resentment, pure anger.

It wasn't the relationship that was bad. The relationship was fucking perfection— Tariq came along, and he was a clean white page in his journal of black ink, he made him feel new.

Until it didn't. Until nothing felt new anymore.

Tariq gave him everything, and took it away, all in the span of two years.

—

+2202

AN: i have. no idea what's happening rn😋

so yea :p thank u all for reading!! i hope u have a good day today🤬 ur response on the first chapter was overwhelmingly sweet, thank u all so so much, y'all are unreal <3