Post by mystifyingoracle on Sept 16, 2020 1:17:55 GMT -5
OOC: CD written with Lab Rat King/Axton Gunn! A pleasure as always.
“...I know that look.”
Emotional and physical exhaustion could be equally taxing, and Silvio had had a hefty dose of each at Chaos 97. Coming home and seeing his new roommate straddling a chair at the kitchen table, upon which rested a glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen was both endearing and annoying.
“You’re home past curfew.”
It took a certain intimate knowledge of Zane King to register that as a joke.
Zane was indeed waiting in the kitchen, wearing only a pair of recently acquired cotton sleeping pants that actually fit him; his muzzle was off, sitting on the kitchen table. He raised an eyebrow at the Oracle, scratching absently at his mussed, dirty-blonde hair. He had apparently sobered out of his madness fugue when Silvio came in the door.
“Sounds like you had a hell of a day. How’s your head, champ-crusher?”
“Bad,” Silvio replied, slumping into the chair across from Zane and gratefully popping a pain killer. “Like, physically and mentally. Being on the receiving end of a DDT is not fun. It’s considerably less fun when it’s delivered by your...ex..? Former lover?” He made a face, shaking his head. “God, that sounds gross. Jesus. This whole thing is a mess.”
He should have been happy. Team StarFox had just beaten two former title holders together.
Add another former World Champ to your pin collection, he mused.
Zane cocked his head with a hum, watching Silvio to make sure he was actually alright. Headshots were never great, but at least the meds would help. That and a lot more water.
“That was a fustercluck of word choices, yes,” he agreed, arms crossed loosely over the back of the chair he was straddling. “Maybe talking about it with somebody who doesn’t have skin in this game would help. Your little punk friend there said you ghosted him?”
Silvio stared at his hands on the table, chewing on his lower lip. “...Yeah. Listen, I...It’s a long story. But I had my reasons. I admit I fucked up, but I just wanted to try and keep him safe.”
“Keep him safe?”
The mutant sounded understandably puzzled at that, his pale brow furrowed. He exhaled through his nose, observing.
“Is it a long story you’re willing to share? Let’s not pretend I have anything else urgent to do tonight.”
“Sure.” Silvio sat back in his chair with a sigh. “It’s...complicated but...not complicated. Jeez. Okay. I think this is an occasion that calls for the Fuck It Bucket.”
Getting up from his seat, Silvio went into the kitchen and opened a cabinet. In it was a colorful plastic bucket - the sort a child might use at the beach. Lifting it up by its handle, the Oracle returned to his seat, plopped into it, and dropped the bucket upon the tabletop. In it was a collection of mini candy bars, hard candies, saltwater taffy, and various gummies. Taking a Jolly Rancher for himself, he invited Zane to join him with a little gesture.
“To paraphrase David Sedaris, sometimes life is shitty and you just gotta say, ‘fuck it!,’ and eat yourself some candy.”
Zane, who was of course always hungry, accepted the offer with a shrug. Picking out a few pieces prominently featuring chocolate, he started to unwrap one of them in his broad hands as his eyes returned to Silvio.
“Fuck it then,” he agreed, popping the whole thing into his mouth. “Mmph… so what’s the deal with this Axton guy, hm?”
Silvio sighed, clicking the candy against his teeth and staring briefly at the ceiling. “It started in LA. I was down there for a convention and I ended up staying longer than I thought. Anyway, I had this client one evening; really cool gentlethem named Zacharie. And they had an invitation for me.”
“I think I might have another client for you.”
The customer in Silvio’s chair today was a slight waif of a person; their raven-black curls are swept back from their face, grey-blue eyes twinkling with a thought. They held still while the tattoo artist finished cleaning up the fresh colouring on their thigh, their pleated skirt bunched up to their hip to give him room to work. It was a big piece--a gorgeous ornate dagger with a fire opal handle, settled among flowers with delicate petals.
The baby-pink gloss on their lips caught the bright studio light as they tilt their head to watch.
“I do makeup for a few big names in LA… and there’s one ink addict I have in mind who would just adore your work.”
“Really?”
Moving to LA - even temporarily - was like being transported into a completely different world. Seattle was a grey gargoyle perched on the edge of the Puget Sound, mist wreathing its wings. LA was a lion, sprawled out across the desert under an unforgiving sun, enjoying how it made his mane glitter. Silvio had come here for a convention that had turned into couch surfing, then a short-term rental apartment and workstation at a local tattoo parlor. While he missed the rain and the greenery of his home, California had given him new opportunities he wouldn’t have been able to find anywhere else. Leaning back on his stool, he fetched his phone from his workstation to take a photo of the completed piece.
“Care to introduce me, cutie?”
They giggled, leaning back a bit, keeping their french manicure in the frame of the photo as they retained the pleats of their skirt.
“You know what? I’d love to. I happen to know he’s hosting a house party this weekend that I’m invited to--I did his makeup, too. I’d be tickled to introduce you to him if you don’t mind crowds and loud music… though you don’t seem like the kind of guy who would be adverse, honey.”
Silvio laughed, drawing back in mock surprise. “Oh, gosh, what gave it away?” Reaching for a roll of saniderm, he nodded. “I’d love to come. Any dress code I should be aware of? And you’re sure he’d be cool with it?”
“Just be your best self,” the customer assured him, grinning from ear to ear. “You’ve got such a particular look, Silvio; own it. As for the rest… I’ve never known Axton not to be cool with more or less whatever you put in front of him. I have a feeling you two will get along like fire and gasoline. Or gin and tonic… vodka and cranberry. Strawberries and cream? You know what I mean.”
“Axton?” Silvio echoed as he applied the bandage to his work. “Wait, as in Axton Gunn Axton? The one from The Broken Brash?”
The artist had had a number of close encounters of the celebrity kind since relocating, but he’d never been invited to the house party of a genuine rock star. One that was launching what was shaping up to be a very successful solo career.
“The very same,” his client hummed, checking their phone with their free hand. They couldn’t keep the grin from their face. “He mentioned he was looking to fill in some blank canvas, as it were, before beach season… if you’d like to come along as my plus one, the slot is open, mon beau.”
Beaming, Silvio swept up his client’s hand, laying a dainty kiss upon their knuckles. “Zacharie, my Metis muse, my enby babe, you are an angel, you know that? Should I bring my sketch book?”
Another giggle, and Zacharie nodded, giving him a wink. “Bring that charming grin of yours too, troublemaker. Between that and your talent, I’d say you have a shoe-in.”
“Getting a celebrity client is a big deal. It can get a lot of eyes on your art,” Silvio explained.
King nodded in comprehension, cracking open a cold coke from the fridge. He let it hang from his hand as he listened.
“So it started out as more of a business opportunity. Did you end up going to a mansion or something? The guy’s famous, right? I’ve never been to Hollywood, but you sorta picture it a certain way.”
Silvio nodded.
“Yeah things can get pretty extravagant over there with a certain set. Axton’s place, though? It was different.”
“Different?” Zane took a sip from the can, the corner of his mouth tugging a bit. “What made it different? He kinda seemed like typical social elite on TV, with the brand-name shades and flashy gold shit.”
“Uh huh,” Silvio said with a little shake of his head and a rueful grin. “And that’s exactly what he wants everyone to see him as.”
“Holy shit.”
Silvio had seen some frankly ludicrous houses during his time in LA; things that would have made Caligula blush. It really was incredible how expensive it could be to look so cheap. This place, though? It was...nice. Like, genuinely, stylishly nice. The exterior was modern and clean, and the artist couldn’t help but admire the gardens of multi-colored succulents, smooth river stone, and bell-like yucca flowers.
Zacharie was hanging off his arm in a cute sunflower-yellow party dress, their curls pinned up with a floral pin to match. They pointed with a little smirk to a few stray dog toys scattered throughout the garden.
“Don’t let the details fool you,” they teased as the pair approached the door, giving the attendant there a familiar wave which was immediately returned. “If it weren’t for his assistants, this place would be a mess. He can be a little all over the place… in a fun way.”
“Delightful chaos, huh? I can roll with that.” Silvio was wearing a black tank top, torn jeans, mint-colored converse, and a fascinated glint in his eyes. His fingers were heavy with silver rings, and he’d coordinated his piercings with opalescent colors. Zacharie had been so kind as to do his eyeliner and he looked like a suitable offering to be made at the electric altar of a rock n’ roll princeling.
“You are delightful chaos,” Zacharie teased, stepping past the threshold of the door with him on the attendant’s blessing.
The interior of the house matched the exterior in modern style; high ceilings, hardwood floors, and stylish light fixtures dimmed to offer the party-goers a relaxed atmosphere. There was quite a crowd already, clusters of LA devotees chatting and laughing in circles over the music pumping out from wall-mounted speakers throughout the main room. A comfortable lounge sprawled out in front of a fireplace with occupied plush sofas--there was a low coffee table covered in snacks, drinks, and a couple of pretty glasswork bongs, on top of a brightly patterned rug. A pair of Australian shepherd dogs were being lavished with attention on said rug by enthused guests, and it looked like an open bar had been set up on the kitchen island on the opposite side of the lobby.
“I’d be willing to bet,” Zacharie mused as they glanced around, “Axton is going to be wherever the crowd is thickest… that boy loves people.”
Silvio’s head spun with all the activity, senses alive with the sound of conversation and music mingling together, the sharp-sweet fragrance of alcohol and perfume undercut with the dark, piney scent of weed, the sight of it all; the organic curves and angles of bodies juxtaposed against the stark, modernist lines of their environment. The way people dressed here always hit him in the eyes. Colors, shapes, and textures wrapped around human bodies in ways that seemed to pay little mind to the humdrum laws of gravity. This was LA, after all. Why let something as boring as physics get in the way of looking good? His gaze flitted about, lighting briefly on each partygoer; a hummingbird sampling nectar.
Or maybe a bat tasting agave, he mused.
He considered how he might recreate some of the tints and shades with his pencils or paints; translate them into tattoo ink colors. Heeding Zach’s advice, Silvio slowly began circling inward toward where the crowd was the densest. Where was the golden boy he’d seen on so many billboards around town?
Zacharie turned out to be correct; there was a cluster of activity between the kitchen island and the sound system, where a large group of people were standing in a crooked semi-circle, loudly chatting and laughing. Right smack-dab in the middle was the gracious host, in the middle of telling a story.
“Anyway they basically had to replace the whole ceiling!”
Axton laughed, holding a colourful blue drink in one hand and gesturing with the other. He was dressed in a black t-shirt studded in gold to the shape of a dragon, fitted jeans with green converse, leather bracelets and just a touch of glitter at the corner of his eyes… somehow striking the perfect balance between style and comfort. His meadowgreen eyes were alive with humour, and as they moved around the group they settled on the pair of newcomers. The musician lit up with recognition.
“Zach!” Axton gestured with a ‘come here’ arm, grinning. “You made it! Who’s your friend?”
Wow.
Usually, you walked into a room and the people were ornaments and denizens within it. Here is the kitchen, here is the living room, here is the foyer. The place was the thing; the identity that dominated. Sometimes, though, you met someone who could walk into any room and whatever identity that place had before, it changed through the power of that person’s presence. You weren’t in a kitchen or a living room or a foyer. You were in a room with that person in it. That’s what this felt like. Silvio wasn’t in a party being thrown at a luxurious Los Angeles domicile.
He was in a room with Axton Gunn.
“I’m Silvio.”
Damn.
Axton felt his breath stop, ever so briefly, in his throat. His attention was instantly drawn away from his familiar friend toward the new face--this… incredibly handsome face, framed by opal and silver, and warm brown eyes that instantly put him at ease; made him feel welcome. He felt his shoulders relax and his heart start to race.
Silvio was the prettiest damn person he’d ever seen.
“I’ll finish the story later, Mikey. Beth, your glass is empty...” The blonde chuckled, gently dismissing the gathered crowd as his attention fell in around the tattooed houseguest. Beaming, he offered a hand.
“Silvio? I’m Axton. You can call me Ax. That’s a hell of a tattoo collection you got…”
Zacharie took half a step back, trying to hold back their knowing grin.
Silvio grinned, raising a brow and shifting his weight from one foot to the other, taking the offered hand and giving it a squeeze. “Yeah, I know your name, rock star,” he replied. Wonder who you are, though. “And thanks! It’s a work in progress, but it kinda comes with the territory. I don’t know about you, but I’d have some misgivings if I stepped into a parlor and my artist was a blank canvas.” Nodding to his raven-haired companion, he continued, “I actually just finished a piece for Zach, if they want to show it off.”
It was… actually kind of hard to let go of Silvio’s hand. Even as he drew his own back, he could still feel the warmth of it in his palm, like the tingle of the sun on his skin.
“Oh you’re the--!” Axton was suddenly animated, putting two and two together. “Zach, this is the guy! Zach said they knew a tattoo artist they wanted to introduce me to cause I’m looking to have a couple new pieces done. Lemme see!”
Zacharie hiked up the side of their dress, showing off the floral dagger on their thigh. Axton was quick to admire it, grinning with a boyish joy that seemed to radiate off of him.
“Wow,” he breathed, looking back up at Silvio. “You did that? The linework is so clean. The blending on the flower petals…! Can you do animals, too? Lettering? I have like sixteen ideas and I could use some help, uhh, narrowing it down. Story of my life.”
Laughing, Silvio held up his hands. “Yeah, that’s my work, but Zach’s the one that makes it look good. I can do just about anything you need me to, and if I can’t, I can probably hook you up with somebody who can. Focus is something I can lend a hand with; see what’s going to go best on your own personal canvas. Just let me know when you’d care to meet up.” Reaching for his wallet, he murmured, “Hang on, I got a business card.”
Axton seemed to just be watching Silvio now like he was the only person in the room; he had such a cute laugh. Even the cadence of his voice was nice, warm in all the right ways. He couldn’t draw his attention away.
“Don’t worry about it right now,” he insisted, putting a friendly hand on Silvio’s shoulder. “It’s a party! We don’t gotta talk shop right now. Can I get you a drink, dude? I got pretty much anything you might want, just name it.”
“Scuse me a minute,” Zacharie chimed in, a little smirk playing on their glossy lips. “I just spotted somebody I know from my last photoshoot and I wanna catch up. You two have fun!”
And with that, the pair were alone--as much as they could be at a party--in the warmly lit kitchen.
Silvio blinked, glancing around and realizing for the first time that everyone had, indeed, departed to leave him alone with the party’s host. He snorted before he turned to Axton and gave him a knowing grin, even as he felt color rising in his face. Smooth. “...Yeah.” He reached up to drum his fingertips lightly on the hand resting upon his shoulder. “Can I get a Dark ‘n Stormy, Ax?” His voice hung on the rockstar’s name; smoke and sugar.
Axton had never felt a tingle run up his spine quite the same way as he did now, his full attention hanging on Silvio’s every word.
Oh, he was in deep, already. This was gonna be fun.
With his playful grin easily reaching his eyes, Axton stepped away to make the drink, humming thoughtfully. “Alright...” Pouring the rum into a tall, clear glass. “That’s not far off from my personal fav… I’m a Moscow Mule guy, myself…” Topping it with ginger beer plucked from the fridge.
He handed Silvio the drink, letting his fingertips touch Silvio’s on the glass as he looked up at him. “Dark and stormy, just like your eyes, sweetheart.”
Very smooth, Silvio thought, grinning in spite of himself.
“Thanks,” he said, taking the glass. “Any special occasion for the party? You sorta strike me as a, ‘just because,’ type.” He sipped his drink, the sharp, sweet spice of rum, lime, and ginger playing pleasantly on his palate and warming his throat.
Making himself a Moscow Mule with a generous dose of Grey Goose, Axton leaned against the kitchen island with a playful smirk, his full attention on Silvio as he stirred the ice in his glass with a metal straw.
“Just because,” he confirmed, a bit of a laugh in his voice. “I just like being around people. My place isn’t huge or anything, but it still feels pretty empty sometimes with just me and my dogs. I like to open the doors every weekend if I can… it’s kind of a tradition now.”
“And what a fine tradition it is, old sport!” Silvio laughed. “I saw your dogs - they’re really cute. I never got to have any growing up; always wanted to, though.” His eyes drifted back to the Aussie Shepherds briefly. “Huey and Irwin, right?”
“Yeah!” Axton’s eyes danced with delight, still chuckling a bit from the Gatsby reference (he wasn’t about to deny it; a little party never killed nobody). “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you know their names, since I never shut up about them on socials. Good to know you’re a dog person…” He winked.
“Oh, you thought I was here to visit you? Because I mean...the dogs were the ones on the calendar...wow, this is embarrassing,” Silvio said, grinning and sticking his tongue out.
Axton pressed his free hand to his chest in mock-hurt, but he couldn’t keep a straight face and broke with a laugh.
God damnit he’s adorable. Damnit!
“I’m not even mad.” He didn’t even notice he was standing a bit closer, meadowgreen eyes on Silvio’s face. “They’re cute as hell. If you stand too close to them, the three of you might melt every heart in a thirty foot radius. That’s too much power.”
“And now you’ve figured out my motives; joining forces with your dogs for conquest. I mean, why try to conquer the world with violence when cuteness is so much more effective?” He swirled his drink in its glass, smirking. “What are you going to do to stop our adorable machinations, Mr. Gunn?” Silvio purred, leaning in conspiratorially. He was close enough that Axton could catch the clean, citrus scent of his cologne and the salt of his skin beneath it.
Axton couldn’t resist drawing in a slower breath, letting his mind linger in the sweet zest that tantalized him as nothing else did. He happened to be a sucker for citrus--this guy just kept getting better and better.
“Hmm… well,” he mused, tilting his head back; he fiddle with the leather strap around his neck, from which hung a flat pewter pendant of a skull. “I guess I’ll have to separate you to keep you from plotting… while the pups are busy with the houseguests, maybe I could give you a little tour of the place, y’know…?”
“Uh huh…” Silvio grinned, hooking one finger around the leather strap and giving it a playful tug before letting it drop. “Wise to keep your eye on me, Mr. Gunn. I’m quite the scoundrel when I want to be.”
Lifting his hand again, Axton saw that he’d liberated the leather thong of its pewter pendant.
Axton was visibly shocked. His surprise quickly melted away, though, giving way to awe and then just as quickly to interest, a smirk playing on his lips as his hand moved up to touch the empty strap at his throat.
“Alright… that’s kinda hot. Did I mention I like cute bad boys?”
Silvio gave him an obvious up-and-down glance, grinning while he spun the little pendant on one fingertip. “Oh, Summer Eyes, you say it loud and clear without uttering a word.”
“Summer Eyes…”
Axton repeated the petname on his breath, that smirk staying.
“I like it. Hey, how about that tour? I can show you around upstairs… there’s a pretty dope view from the rear balcony.”
“Lead the way,” Silvio said with a nod, tucking the little pendant he’d nicked back into Axton’s pocket.
This was fun. He felt grateful that Zach had invited him along. Even if this guy didn’t get a tattoo from Silvio, he was good company; not a bad way at all to spend an evening. Getting away from the rest of the crowd sounded like a good idea, anyway. He was starting to get a little overwhelmed and some fresh air sounded like just the thing to clear his head.
Axton led the way up the stairs at the back of the house to the second floor, leaving the noise of the party behind for the time being. Somehow, he was very good at dodging interaction when he wasn’t looking for it, slipping past the guests with Silvio in tow like a couple of mice.
The upstairs was cool and open, the windows left open to take advantage of the cool evening air so rarely enjoyed in SoCal. Axton led the way across a room set up as a home studio, with a full band set as well as a piano and a wide, round skin drum hung on the wall decorated with Chumash pictographs. Looking back over his shoulder, Axton was trying to hide how eager he was to see Silvio’s reaction to the space.
“You do any music, Sil? Can I call you Sil?”
Silvio felt his body relax as they left the bustle of the crowd behind, his mind clearing. As they came into the studio, he looked around, eyes wide, a little smile playing on his lips. He’d listened to the Broken Brash for a while now, and it was something else to think that the songs he heard on the radio were worked on here. “Yeah...you can call me Sil. But no, not outside of some singing,” he said, with a sheepish smile. “Instruments are kind of expensive and I never really had the time.”
Axton seemed enthused about the singing, eyes alive with light at the mention of it. “I’d love to hear you sing sometime. No pressure, obvi, but I’m kind of a sucker for duets.”
They approached a pair of glass doors at the back of the room, and Axton opened them up; they came out onto a roomy balcony decorated with wicker furniture, including a conversation set around a concrete fire pit, fairy lights strung up along the railing. It was wonderfully cool in the evening air. As promised, the view of the desert from this spot was breathtaking, pointed away from the bustle of downtown. The scattered joshua trees looked like fireworks going off in the distance below.
“Sometimes fresh air is nice,” Axton commented, approaching the railing. “I usually keep this off-limits during the weekend get-togethers… unless you’re really cute.”
Silvio followed, giving him a little smile as he drank in the view. California was so different in the dark than Washington. Up North, the dark of the evening crept out from between the trees and shook down from the canopies. It left you in a dreamscape of pine needles, tall, sentinel trees that dripped shadow, and night birds with voices that sounded like haunted flutes. Southern California’s landscape with its barren, craggy hills looked like you’d been transported to the surface of some alien planet. A dim, desert Mars come down to Earth.
“Well then...lucky me,” he said, leaning against the balcony railing. Turning, he looked back to the studio, seeing Axton framed by the light from the house. “The artwork...are you Native?”
“Uh-huh.” Axton approached the railing, leaning on it next to Silvio. He was close enough that their arms touched, almost shoulder to shoulder. “Cali Valley Chumash on my mom’s side. I didn’t get much in the way of her looks, though.” He grins a bit. “What about you, cuz? Couldn’t help but notice…”
“Yeah, I’m Nez Perce, Spokane, and European on my dad’s side,” Silvio replied, smiling. “Mom’s side is Peruvian. Doing my part to further the agenda of queer caramelization,” he teased. “Most people figure I’m half of whatever they are. If they don’t do the, y’know...” Blinking owlishly, he leaned in, resting his forehead on Axton’s before speaking in a high-pitched voice. “...‘What are you?’ question.”
Axton laughed, almost a giggle; he chose not to move away, brushing Silvio’s arm with his fingertips, unafraid to meet his eyes. “I always get the, ‘Really? How much, like… percentage? You don’t look Native.'” He stuck out his tongue in playful mockery. “Don’t ask me that shit, I’m bad at math. That’s why I do music.”
“Blood quantum’s bullshit, anyway,” Silvio replied. He could smell the vodka, ginger, and lime on Axton’s breath mingling with the woodsy scent of his cologne. The artist turned his arm over, closing his eyes at Axton’s touch, little goosebumps leaving a path showing where his fingertips had been. When he opened his eyes again, he reached out to return the favor, noticing a bass guitar wrapped in thorns tattooed on the singer’s forearm.
“Not bad, not bad,” he murmured, tracing the shape of it.
Axton seemed much more interested in Silvio’s fingertips touching his skin than the ink beneath it, a soft and almost sultry smile tugging at his lips.
“I bet you could do better,” he murmured, meadowgreen eyes flickering back up to Silvio’s face. “I got a feeling you know just how to handle my skin.”
“Hmm. Well...only one way to know,” Silvio replied, running his fingers up along Axton’s arm to his shoulder, drawing inward to trace along his collarbone and settle lightly at the hollow of his throat. “Good to understand your canvas before you start any work…”
“I wanna preface this by saying I have absolutely no problem with your sexuality, and I fully support you and your relationship choices,” King sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “But this is getting a little intimate for a recount.”
“Right! Right, sorry,” Silvio said, holding his hands up and shaking his head. He took a moment to gather up the discarded candy wrappers that had accumulated into a little nest. “So, yeah, um. We made out. Like, a lot. But that was it. I’m not that kinda guy, you know? You don’t care. Okay. So, anyway...I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Not the rockstar, glam persona he had. Him. I saw there was more underneath and...I just...I couldn’t keep my hands off it; couldn’t stop wanting to…”
He bit into his lower lip and averted his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck.
“...Fuck me running, I just wanted to pick that lock and see what it was keeping safe. God, I’m a piece of shit.” Sighing, he slumped in his chair and rubbed at his forehead. “I just wanted to know him so bad. And I wanted him to know me.”
King was quiet for a moment; he took a long drink from the can of coke in his hand, setting it down on the table before speaking.
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with wanting to know someone.” His amber eyes settled on Silvio, calm and understanding. “That’s what any strong relationship is. It’s offering someone the blade to destroy you, and trusting them not to run you through. It’s intense. It’s a feeling people chase their whole lives. And hell… it sounds like you two had some chemistry.”
A breath, and King added,
“Did you like what you found?”
Silvio stared at the little mountain of candy wrappers, eyes distant, smiling faintly.
“...Yeah. I did.”
Sighing, he swept the garbage into one hand with the other.
“And I fucking...I hurt him. I left without saying anything. I...I fucked up. I just...figured…”
Laughing softly, he spread his arms, smiling, brow furrowed.
“Who the fuck am I, right? He’s a rockstar. I’m some guttersnipe from Seattle just trying to hustle and make things work. I’m a dime a dozen in LA. He’d find someone like me at another party and just...swap me out without batting an eye.”
“Obviously he didn’t think you’re pocket change if he flew to Baltimore to see you,” King noted, draining the last of the can. He crushed it flat easily in one hand and tossed it into the blue bin in the corner.
“Whatever you showed him when you opened up… he must’ve liked it. And he trusted you to know him. That’s not nothing, no matter who you are. I think you undervalue yourself, kid. But that’s a whole other thing…” The mutant’s expression turned curious. “Why’d you leave, if you had it so good in LA? Sounds like you had a happy relationship, a steady job…”
Silvio quieted, crinkling the candy wrappers in one hand.
“...Zane, there’s...something wrong with me. Kinda? Like...I have a problem. I don’t like discussing it a lot...Hell, at all, truth be told, but…”
As he spoke, seemingly oblivious to it, his visible tattoos began to shift and waver; move along his skin as if they were a film being projected upon him.
“...there was a chance it could have hurt the people close to me. I couldn’t risk that; them getting hurt because I had a problem. If they suffered because I was careless...I don’t know if I could have forgiven myself. So, it was a decision. Make a clean break and get the Hell out and not risk anyone’s harm, or come here with everything trailing behind me but take the chance it could all be ruined because I was too selfish to leave it behind.” Shaking his head, his mouth twisted into a frown. “If I had known Ax was that...if his feelings were that deep…”
King’s eyes drifted to the ink on Silvio’s skin as he spoke.
For a moment, he hesitated, blinking a bit too much; he ended up rubbing at his face, groaning a bit into his hand. Hallucinations weren’t uncommon, but it was strange to have them in a moment of extended lucidity courtesy of Silvio’s eye.
“Sorry,” he rumbled, “My eyes are… sometimes things don’t look right… I’m ok.”
Lifting his head, he refocused on Silvio’s face, trying to ignore the shift in the corners of his vision.
“Why did it hurt him that bad? It sounds like he did have a lot of friends, a lot of options… The way he decided to get back at you for leaving seemed a bit… dramatic.”
OH DAMNIT WE FORGOT ABOUT THAT.
Silvio blinked quizzically for a moment, his tattoos settling again. He’d have to ask Big Boss Spookitude what they’d meant later.
“I can’t say for sure,” Silvio said with a helpless shrug. “But I have some guesses. We were...the same in a lot of ways that can be pretty rare. And maybe...well, I won’t deny that maybe the depression kinda has an impact on how I see myself. I just never thought I’d be that special to somebody like Axton.”
“... I get that.”
King, after all, wasn’t a prime example of self-esteem. Regardless, he reached over, resting a broad, reassuring hand on Silvio’s shoulder.
“Maybe it’s time to start seeing your worth… I think even if he’s being a little punkass about it, Axton sure does. And if he really does know you? That means something. If you know him… you know why he’s hurt.” He sighed. “This is an outside perspective I guess, but as a big dude, everyone expects a certain tough act. I know how hard it is to be vulnerable when everyone expects you to be thick-skinned, or... an untouchable rockstar. And yeah, sometimes you end up feeling like the only way to prove you’re not really hurt is to start throwing punches.”
He cocked his head, eyeing Silvio’s face as he lowered his hand.
“I’d approach this situation with that understanding in mind… you didn’t deserve to get thrown on your head, but he didn’t deserve to be ignored, either. It sounds like he really did try everything else before confronting you in person, and this was a last resort. Let him blow off some steam in the ring, and then… try to talk to him about it. Apologize for hurting him. Even when we don’t mean to hurt somebody, and we do, we still have to say we’re sorry.”
Like you, to Adrienne, he thought. And so many others.
“That is… if you still want him to know you… if you want that spark back.”
“...I do.”
Silvio sighed, rubbing at his eyes. Seeing Axton again in the flesh, looking him in the eyes...that woodsy scent of his cologne? It made made so much come rushing back.
“I really do. And I wish I could just step in front of him, take the blows and have it be over, but I know he won’t do that. It’s not in his nature. I want to apologize; I want to do whatever I need to so it can be better for him. But I know the only thing he thinks will make him feel better is if he knows he’s hurt me as much I hurt him; eye for an eye and all that.”
“I get the feeling he’s already done that.”
King’s eyes were sombre and sympathetic.
“This is really eating you up. Even just the thought of this getting dragged out is hurting you already. If he’s in a bad place, maybe he’s not gonna know when to quit… it’s like when Big Guy snaps and goes rage-blind and he just won’t… stop. I can’t stop him, not until it’s gone too far. Until something like what happened to Levi... “
He grimaced, finishing the thought with his eyes on the floor. “Silvio, I think you need to find a way to make him see that he’s done enough. You’re both ready to leave the ring.”
Silvio nodded, looking up at Zane with red-rimmed eyes and smiling crookedly.
“Thanks for listening, dude. I really appreciate it.”
King gave Silvio’s shoulder one more squeeze and a bit of a friendly shake, his own smile faint.
“You’re the only real friend I have right now, kid. Nobody else knows I’m here inside my own head. I’d be a real monster not to be here for you, too.”
“I dunno how else to say this, dude,” Silvio said as he reached up to squeeze Zane’s hand on his shoulder. “But has anyone ever told you you got big dad energy?”
King snorted, grinning despite himself. “Big… dad energy.”
“Yeah, man. Maybe there’s a reason." Silvio got to his feet to dispose of the candy wrappers. “I’m gonna hit the shower and get some rest. It’s...going to be interesting for this next bit here.”
Maybe there’s a reason…?
After a moment of contemplation, King nodded and let loose a long sigh, stretching; no fewer than seven snaps cracked up his spine, which seemed to please him as he rolled his shoulders in satisfaction.
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to… you know, help.”
“Will do, friendo!” Silvio said, giving a wave over his shoulder. “Who knows? Maybe after this match it’ll all be out of his system.”
L.A. Devotee
“...I know that look.”
Emotional and physical exhaustion could be equally taxing, and Silvio had had a hefty dose of each at Chaos 97. Coming home and seeing his new roommate straddling a chair at the kitchen table, upon which rested a glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen was both endearing and annoying.
“You’re home past curfew.”
It took a certain intimate knowledge of Zane King to register that as a joke.
Zane was indeed waiting in the kitchen, wearing only a pair of recently acquired cotton sleeping pants that actually fit him; his muzzle was off, sitting on the kitchen table. He raised an eyebrow at the Oracle, scratching absently at his mussed, dirty-blonde hair. He had apparently sobered out of his madness fugue when Silvio came in the door.
“Sounds like you had a hell of a day. How’s your head, champ-crusher?”
“Bad,” Silvio replied, slumping into the chair across from Zane and gratefully popping a pain killer. “Like, physically and mentally. Being on the receiving end of a DDT is not fun. It’s considerably less fun when it’s delivered by your...ex..? Former lover?” He made a face, shaking his head. “God, that sounds gross. Jesus. This whole thing is a mess.”
He should have been happy. Team StarFox had just beaten two former title holders together.
Add another former World Champ to your pin collection, he mused.
Zane cocked his head with a hum, watching Silvio to make sure he was actually alright. Headshots were never great, but at least the meds would help. That and a lot more water.
“That was a fustercluck of word choices, yes,” he agreed, arms crossed loosely over the back of the chair he was straddling. “Maybe talking about it with somebody who doesn’t have skin in this game would help. Your little punk friend there said you ghosted him?”
Silvio stared at his hands on the table, chewing on his lower lip. “...Yeah. Listen, I...It’s a long story. But I had my reasons. I admit I fucked up, but I just wanted to try and keep him safe.”
“Keep him safe?”
The mutant sounded understandably puzzled at that, his pale brow furrowed. He exhaled through his nose, observing.
“Is it a long story you’re willing to share? Let’s not pretend I have anything else urgent to do tonight.”
“Sure.” Silvio sat back in his chair with a sigh. “It’s...complicated but...not complicated. Jeez. Okay. I think this is an occasion that calls for the Fuck It Bucket.”
Getting up from his seat, Silvio went into the kitchen and opened a cabinet. In it was a colorful plastic bucket - the sort a child might use at the beach. Lifting it up by its handle, the Oracle returned to his seat, plopped into it, and dropped the bucket upon the tabletop. In it was a collection of mini candy bars, hard candies, saltwater taffy, and various gummies. Taking a Jolly Rancher for himself, he invited Zane to join him with a little gesture.
“To paraphrase David Sedaris, sometimes life is shitty and you just gotta say, ‘fuck it!,’ and eat yourself some candy.”
Zane, who was of course always hungry, accepted the offer with a shrug. Picking out a few pieces prominently featuring chocolate, he started to unwrap one of them in his broad hands as his eyes returned to Silvio.
“Fuck it then,” he agreed, popping the whole thing into his mouth. “Mmph… so what’s the deal with this Axton guy, hm?”
Silvio sighed, clicking the candy against his teeth and staring briefly at the ceiling. “It started in LA. I was down there for a convention and I ended up staying longer than I thought. Anyway, I had this client one evening; really cool gentlethem named Zacharie. And they had an invitation for me.”
“I think I might have another client for you.”
The customer in Silvio’s chair today was a slight waif of a person; their raven-black curls are swept back from their face, grey-blue eyes twinkling with a thought. They held still while the tattoo artist finished cleaning up the fresh colouring on their thigh, their pleated skirt bunched up to their hip to give him room to work. It was a big piece--a gorgeous ornate dagger with a fire opal handle, settled among flowers with delicate petals.
The baby-pink gloss on their lips caught the bright studio light as they tilt their head to watch.
“I do makeup for a few big names in LA… and there’s one ink addict I have in mind who would just adore your work.”
“Really?”
Moving to LA - even temporarily - was like being transported into a completely different world. Seattle was a grey gargoyle perched on the edge of the Puget Sound, mist wreathing its wings. LA was a lion, sprawled out across the desert under an unforgiving sun, enjoying how it made his mane glitter. Silvio had come here for a convention that had turned into couch surfing, then a short-term rental apartment and workstation at a local tattoo parlor. While he missed the rain and the greenery of his home, California had given him new opportunities he wouldn’t have been able to find anywhere else. Leaning back on his stool, he fetched his phone from his workstation to take a photo of the completed piece.
“Care to introduce me, cutie?”
They giggled, leaning back a bit, keeping their french manicure in the frame of the photo as they retained the pleats of their skirt.
“You know what? I’d love to. I happen to know he’s hosting a house party this weekend that I’m invited to--I did his makeup, too. I’d be tickled to introduce you to him if you don’t mind crowds and loud music… though you don’t seem like the kind of guy who would be adverse, honey.”
Silvio laughed, drawing back in mock surprise. “Oh, gosh, what gave it away?” Reaching for a roll of saniderm, he nodded. “I’d love to come. Any dress code I should be aware of? And you’re sure he’d be cool with it?”
“Just be your best self,” the customer assured him, grinning from ear to ear. “You’ve got such a particular look, Silvio; own it. As for the rest… I’ve never known Axton not to be cool with more or less whatever you put in front of him. I have a feeling you two will get along like fire and gasoline. Or gin and tonic… vodka and cranberry. Strawberries and cream? You know what I mean.”
“Axton?” Silvio echoed as he applied the bandage to his work. “Wait, as in Axton Gunn Axton? The one from The Broken Brash?”
The artist had had a number of close encounters of the celebrity kind since relocating, but he’d never been invited to the house party of a genuine rock star. One that was launching what was shaping up to be a very successful solo career.
“The very same,” his client hummed, checking their phone with their free hand. They couldn’t keep the grin from their face. “He mentioned he was looking to fill in some blank canvas, as it were, before beach season… if you’d like to come along as my plus one, the slot is open, mon beau.”
Beaming, Silvio swept up his client’s hand, laying a dainty kiss upon their knuckles. “Zacharie, my Metis muse, my enby babe, you are an angel, you know that? Should I bring my sketch book?”
Another giggle, and Zacharie nodded, giving him a wink. “Bring that charming grin of yours too, troublemaker. Between that and your talent, I’d say you have a shoe-in.”
“Getting a celebrity client is a big deal. It can get a lot of eyes on your art,” Silvio explained.
King nodded in comprehension, cracking open a cold coke from the fridge. He let it hang from his hand as he listened.
“So it started out as more of a business opportunity. Did you end up going to a mansion or something? The guy’s famous, right? I’ve never been to Hollywood, but you sorta picture it a certain way.”
Silvio nodded.
“Yeah things can get pretty extravagant over there with a certain set. Axton’s place, though? It was different.”
“Different?” Zane took a sip from the can, the corner of his mouth tugging a bit. “What made it different? He kinda seemed like typical social elite on TV, with the brand-name shades and flashy gold shit.”
“Uh huh,” Silvio said with a little shake of his head and a rueful grin. “And that’s exactly what he wants everyone to see him as.”
“Holy shit.”
Silvio had seen some frankly ludicrous houses during his time in LA; things that would have made Caligula blush. It really was incredible how expensive it could be to look so cheap. This place, though? It was...nice. Like, genuinely, stylishly nice. The exterior was modern and clean, and the artist couldn’t help but admire the gardens of multi-colored succulents, smooth river stone, and bell-like yucca flowers.
Zacharie was hanging off his arm in a cute sunflower-yellow party dress, their curls pinned up with a floral pin to match. They pointed with a little smirk to a few stray dog toys scattered throughout the garden.
“Don’t let the details fool you,” they teased as the pair approached the door, giving the attendant there a familiar wave which was immediately returned. “If it weren’t for his assistants, this place would be a mess. He can be a little all over the place… in a fun way.”
“Delightful chaos, huh? I can roll with that.” Silvio was wearing a black tank top, torn jeans, mint-colored converse, and a fascinated glint in his eyes. His fingers were heavy with silver rings, and he’d coordinated his piercings with opalescent colors. Zacharie had been so kind as to do his eyeliner and he looked like a suitable offering to be made at the electric altar of a rock n’ roll princeling.
“You are delightful chaos,” Zacharie teased, stepping past the threshold of the door with him on the attendant’s blessing.
The interior of the house matched the exterior in modern style; high ceilings, hardwood floors, and stylish light fixtures dimmed to offer the party-goers a relaxed atmosphere. There was quite a crowd already, clusters of LA devotees chatting and laughing in circles over the music pumping out from wall-mounted speakers throughout the main room. A comfortable lounge sprawled out in front of a fireplace with occupied plush sofas--there was a low coffee table covered in snacks, drinks, and a couple of pretty glasswork bongs, on top of a brightly patterned rug. A pair of Australian shepherd dogs were being lavished with attention on said rug by enthused guests, and it looked like an open bar had been set up on the kitchen island on the opposite side of the lobby.
“I’d be willing to bet,” Zacharie mused as they glanced around, “Axton is going to be wherever the crowd is thickest… that boy loves people.”
Silvio’s head spun with all the activity, senses alive with the sound of conversation and music mingling together, the sharp-sweet fragrance of alcohol and perfume undercut with the dark, piney scent of weed, the sight of it all; the organic curves and angles of bodies juxtaposed against the stark, modernist lines of their environment. The way people dressed here always hit him in the eyes. Colors, shapes, and textures wrapped around human bodies in ways that seemed to pay little mind to the humdrum laws of gravity. This was LA, after all. Why let something as boring as physics get in the way of looking good? His gaze flitted about, lighting briefly on each partygoer; a hummingbird sampling nectar.
Or maybe a bat tasting agave, he mused.
He considered how he might recreate some of the tints and shades with his pencils or paints; translate them into tattoo ink colors. Heeding Zach’s advice, Silvio slowly began circling inward toward where the crowd was the densest. Where was the golden boy he’d seen on so many billboards around town?
Zacharie turned out to be correct; there was a cluster of activity between the kitchen island and the sound system, where a large group of people were standing in a crooked semi-circle, loudly chatting and laughing. Right smack-dab in the middle was the gracious host, in the middle of telling a story.
“Anyway they basically had to replace the whole ceiling!”
Axton laughed, holding a colourful blue drink in one hand and gesturing with the other. He was dressed in a black t-shirt studded in gold to the shape of a dragon, fitted jeans with green converse, leather bracelets and just a touch of glitter at the corner of his eyes… somehow striking the perfect balance between style and comfort. His meadowgreen eyes were alive with humour, and as they moved around the group they settled on the pair of newcomers. The musician lit up with recognition.
“Zach!” Axton gestured with a ‘come here’ arm, grinning. “You made it! Who’s your friend?”
Wow.
Usually, you walked into a room and the people were ornaments and denizens within it. Here is the kitchen, here is the living room, here is the foyer. The place was the thing; the identity that dominated. Sometimes, though, you met someone who could walk into any room and whatever identity that place had before, it changed through the power of that person’s presence. You weren’t in a kitchen or a living room or a foyer. You were in a room with that person in it. That’s what this felt like. Silvio wasn’t in a party being thrown at a luxurious Los Angeles domicile.
He was in a room with Axton Gunn.
“I’m Silvio.”
Damn.
Axton felt his breath stop, ever so briefly, in his throat. His attention was instantly drawn away from his familiar friend toward the new face--this… incredibly handsome face, framed by opal and silver, and warm brown eyes that instantly put him at ease; made him feel welcome. He felt his shoulders relax and his heart start to race.
Silvio was the prettiest damn person he’d ever seen.
“I’ll finish the story later, Mikey. Beth, your glass is empty...” The blonde chuckled, gently dismissing the gathered crowd as his attention fell in around the tattooed houseguest. Beaming, he offered a hand.
“Silvio? I’m Axton. You can call me Ax. That’s a hell of a tattoo collection you got…”
Zacharie took half a step back, trying to hold back their knowing grin.
Silvio grinned, raising a brow and shifting his weight from one foot to the other, taking the offered hand and giving it a squeeze. “Yeah, I know your name, rock star,” he replied. Wonder who you are, though. “And thanks! It’s a work in progress, but it kinda comes with the territory. I don’t know about you, but I’d have some misgivings if I stepped into a parlor and my artist was a blank canvas.” Nodding to his raven-haired companion, he continued, “I actually just finished a piece for Zach, if they want to show it off.”
It was… actually kind of hard to let go of Silvio’s hand. Even as he drew his own back, he could still feel the warmth of it in his palm, like the tingle of the sun on his skin.
“Oh you’re the--!” Axton was suddenly animated, putting two and two together. “Zach, this is the guy! Zach said they knew a tattoo artist they wanted to introduce me to cause I’m looking to have a couple new pieces done. Lemme see!”
Zacharie hiked up the side of their dress, showing off the floral dagger on their thigh. Axton was quick to admire it, grinning with a boyish joy that seemed to radiate off of him.
“Wow,” he breathed, looking back up at Silvio. “You did that? The linework is so clean. The blending on the flower petals…! Can you do animals, too? Lettering? I have like sixteen ideas and I could use some help, uhh, narrowing it down. Story of my life.”
Laughing, Silvio held up his hands. “Yeah, that’s my work, but Zach’s the one that makes it look good. I can do just about anything you need me to, and if I can’t, I can probably hook you up with somebody who can. Focus is something I can lend a hand with; see what’s going to go best on your own personal canvas. Just let me know when you’d care to meet up.” Reaching for his wallet, he murmured, “Hang on, I got a business card.”
Axton seemed to just be watching Silvio now like he was the only person in the room; he had such a cute laugh. Even the cadence of his voice was nice, warm in all the right ways. He couldn’t draw his attention away.
“Don’t worry about it right now,” he insisted, putting a friendly hand on Silvio’s shoulder. “It’s a party! We don’t gotta talk shop right now. Can I get you a drink, dude? I got pretty much anything you might want, just name it.”
“Scuse me a minute,” Zacharie chimed in, a little smirk playing on their glossy lips. “I just spotted somebody I know from my last photoshoot and I wanna catch up. You two have fun!”
And with that, the pair were alone--as much as they could be at a party--in the warmly lit kitchen.
Silvio blinked, glancing around and realizing for the first time that everyone had, indeed, departed to leave him alone with the party’s host. He snorted before he turned to Axton and gave him a knowing grin, even as he felt color rising in his face. Smooth. “...Yeah.” He reached up to drum his fingertips lightly on the hand resting upon his shoulder. “Can I get a Dark ‘n Stormy, Ax?” His voice hung on the rockstar’s name; smoke and sugar.
Axton had never felt a tingle run up his spine quite the same way as he did now, his full attention hanging on Silvio’s every word.
Oh, he was in deep, already. This was gonna be fun.
With his playful grin easily reaching his eyes, Axton stepped away to make the drink, humming thoughtfully. “Alright...” Pouring the rum into a tall, clear glass. “That’s not far off from my personal fav… I’m a Moscow Mule guy, myself…” Topping it with ginger beer plucked from the fridge.
He handed Silvio the drink, letting his fingertips touch Silvio’s on the glass as he looked up at him. “Dark and stormy, just like your eyes, sweetheart.”
Very smooth, Silvio thought, grinning in spite of himself.
“Thanks,” he said, taking the glass. “Any special occasion for the party? You sorta strike me as a, ‘just because,’ type.” He sipped his drink, the sharp, sweet spice of rum, lime, and ginger playing pleasantly on his palate and warming his throat.
Making himself a Moscow Mule with a generous dose of Grey Goose, Axton leaned against the kitchen island with a playful smirk, his full attention on Silvio as he stirred the ice in his glass with a metal straw.
“Just because,” he confirmed, a bit of a laugh in his voice. “I just like being around people. My place isn’t huge or anything, but it still feels pretty empty sometimes with just me and my dogs. I like to open the doors every weekend if I can… it’s kind of a tradition now.”
“And what a fine tradition it is, old sport!” Silvio laughed. “I saw your dogs - they’re really cute. I never got to have any growing up; always wanted to, though.” His eyes drifted back to the Aussie Shepherds briefly. “Huey and Irwin, right?”
“Yeah!” Axton’s eyes danced with delight, still chuckling a bit from the Gatsby reference (he wasn’t about to deny it; a little party never killed nobody). “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you know their names, since I never shut up about them on socials. Good to know you’re a dog person…” He winked.
“Oh, you thought I was here to visit you? Because I mean...the dogs were the ones on the calendar...wow, this is embarrassing,” Silvio said, grinning and sticking his tongue out.
Axton pressed his free hand to his chest in mock-hurt, but he couldn’t keep a straight face and broke with a laugh.
God damnit he’s adorable. Damnit!
“I’m not even mad.” He didn’t even notice he was standing a bit closer, meadowgreen eyes on Silvio’s face. “They’re cute as hell. If you stand too close to them, the three of you might melt every heart in a thirty foot radius. That’s too much power.”
“And now you’ve figured out my motives; joining forces with your dogs for conquest. I mean, why try to conquer the world with violence when cuteness is so much more effective?” He swirled his drink in its glass, smirking. “What are you going to do to stop our adorable machinations, Mr. Gunn?” Silvio purred, leaning in conspiratorially. He was close enough that Axton could catch the clean, citrus scent of his cologne and the salt of his skin beneath it.
Axton couldn’t resist drawing in a slower breath, letting his mind linger in the sweet zest that tantalized him as nothing else did. He happened to be a sucker for citrus--this guy just kept getting better and better.
“Hmm… well,” he mused, tilting his head back; he fiddle with the leather strap around his neck, from which hung a flat pewter pendant of a skull. “I guess I’ll have to separate you to keep you from plotting… while the pups are busy with the houseguests, maybe I could give you a little tour of the place, y’know…?”
“Uh huh…” Silvio grinned, hooking one finger around the leather strap and giving it a playful tug before letting it drop. “Wise to keep your eye on me, Mr. Gunn. I’m quite the scoundrel when I want to be.”
Lifting his hand again, Axton saw that he’d liberated the leather thong of its pewter pendant.
Axton was visibly shocked. His surprise quickly melted away, though, giving way to awe and then just as quickly to interest, a smirk playing on his lips as his hand moved up to touch the empty strap at his throat.
“Alright… that’s kinda hot. Did I mention I like cute bad boys?”
Silvio gave him an obvious up-and-down glance, grinning while he spun the little pendant on one fingertip. “Oh, Summer Eyes, you say it loud and clear without uttering a word.”
“Summer Eyes…”
Axton repeated the petname on his breath, that smirk staying.
“I like it. Hey, how about that tour? I can show you around upstairs… there’s a pretty dope view from the rear balcony.”
“Lead the way,” Silvio said with a nod, tucking the little pendant he’d nicked back into Axton’s pocket.
This was fun. He felt grateful that Zach had invited him along. Even if this guy didn’t get a tattoo from Silvio, he was good company; not a bad way at all to spend an evening. Getting away from the rest of the crowd sounded like a good idea, anyway. He was starting to get a little overwhelmed and some fresh air sounded like just the thing to clear his head.
Axton led the way up the stairs at the back of the house to the second floor, leaving the noise of the party behind for the time being. Somehow, he was very good at dodging interaction when he wasn’t looking for it, slipping past the guests with Silvio in tow like a couple of mice.
The upstairs was cool and open, the windows left open to take advantage of the cool evening air so rarely enjoyed in SoCal. Axton led the way across a room set up as a home studio, with a full band set as well as a piano and a wide, round skin drum hung on the wall decorated with Chumash pictographs. Looking back over his shoulder, Axton was trying to hide how eager he was to see Silvio’s reaction to the space.
“You do any music, Sil? Can I call you Sil?”
Silvio felt his body relax as they left the bustle of the crowd behind, his mind clearing. As they came into the studio, he looked around, eyes wide, a little smile playing on his lips. He’d listened to the Broken Brash for a while now, and it was something else to think that the songs he heard on the radio were worked on here. “Yeah...you can call me Sil. But no, not outside of some singing,” he said, with a sheepish smile. “Instruments are kind of expensive and I never really had the time.”
Axton seemed enthused about the singing, eyes alive with light at the mention of it. “I’d love to hear you sing sometime. No pressure, obvi, but I’m kind of a sucker for duets.”
They approached a pair of glass doors at the back of the room, and Axton opened them up; they came out onto a roomy balcony decorated with wicker furniture, including a conversation set around a concrete fire pit, fairy lights strung up along the railing. It was wonderfully cool in the evening air. As promised, the view of the desert from this spot was breathtaking, pointed away from the bustle of downtown. The scattered joshua trees looked like fireworks going off in the distance below.
“Sometimes fresh air is nice,” Axton commented, approaching the railing. “I usually keep this off-limits during the weekend get-togethers… unless you’re really cute.”
Silvio followed, giving him a little smile as he drank in the view. California was so different in the dark than Washington. Up North, the dark of the evening crept out from between the trees and shook down from the canopies. It left you in a dreamscape of pine needles, tall, sentinel trees that dripped shadow, and night birds with voices that sounded like haunted flutes. Southern California’s landscape with its barren, craggy hills looked like you’d been transported to the surface of some alien planet. A dim, desert Mars come down to Earth.
“Well then...lucky me,” he said, leaning against the balcony railing. Turning, he looked back to the studio, seeing Axton framed by the light from the house. “The artwork...are you Native?”
“Uh-huh.” Axton approached the railing, leaning on it next to Silvio. He was close enough that their arms touched, almost shoulder to shoulder. “Cali Valley Chumash on my mom’s side. I didn’t get much in the way of her looks, though.” He grins a bit. “What about you, cuz? Couldn’t help but notice…”
“Yeah, I’m Nez Perce, Spokane, and European on my dad’s side,” Silvio replied, smiling. “Mom’s side is Peruvian. Doing my part to further the agenda of queer caramelization,” he teased. “Most people figure I’m half of whatever they are. If they don’t do the, y’know...” Blinking owlishly, he leaned in, resting his forehead on Axton’s before speaking in a high-pitched voice. “...‘What are you?’ question.”
Axton laughed, almost a giggle; he chose not to move away, brushing Silvio’s arm with his fingertips, unafraid to meet his eyes. “I always get the, ‘Really? How much, like… percentage? You don’t look Native.'” He stuck out his tongue in playful mockery. “Don’t ask me that shit, I’m bad at math. That’s why I do music.”
“Blood quantum’s bullshit, anyway,” Silvio replied. He could smell the vodka, ginger, and lime on Axton’s breath mingling with the woodsy scent of his cologne. The artist turned his arm over, closing his eyes at Axton’s touch, little goosebumps leaving a path showing where his fingertips had been. When he opened his eyes again, he reached out to return the favor, noticing a bass guitar wrapped in thorns tattooed on the singer’s forearm.
“Not bad, not bad,” he murmured, tracing the shape of it.
Axton seemed much more interested in Silvio’s fingertips touching his skin than the ink beneath it, a soft and almost sultry smile tugging at his lips.
“I bet you could do better,” he murmured, meadowgreen eyes flickering back up to Silvio’s face. “I got a feeling you know just how to handle my skin.”
“Hmm. Well...only one way to know,” Silvio replied, running his fingers up along Axton’s arm to his shoulder, drawing inward to trace along his collarbone and settle lightly at the hollow of his throat. “Good to understand your canvas before you start any work…”
“I wanna preface this by saying I have absolutely no problem with your sexuality, and I fully support you and your relationship choices,” King sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “But this is getting a little intimate for a recount.”
“Right! Right, sorry,” Silvio said, holding his hands up and shaking his head. He took a moment to gather up the discarded candy wrappers that had accumulated into a little nest. “So, yeah, um. We made out. Like, a lot. But that was it. I’m not that kinda guy, you know? You don’t care. Okay. So, anyway...I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Not the rockstar, glam persona he had. Him. I saw there was more underneath and...I just...I couldn’t keep my hands off it; couldn’t stop wanting to…”
He bit into his lower lip and averted his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck.
“...Fuck me running, I just wanted to pick that lock and see what it was keeping safe. God, I’m a piece of shit.” Sighing, he slumped in his chair and rubbed at his forehead. “I just wanted to know him so bad. And I wanted him to know me.”
King was quiet for a moment; he took a long drink from the can of coke in his hand, setting it down on the table before speaking.
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with wanting to know someone.” His amber eyes settled on Silvio, calm and understanding. “That’s what any strong relationship is. It’s offering someone the blade to destroy you, and trusting them not to run you through. It’s intense. It’s a feeling people chase their whole lives. And hell… it sounds like you two had some chemistry.”
A breath, and King added,
“Did you like what you found?”
Silvio stared at the little mountain of candy wrappers, eyes distant, smiling faintly.
“...Yeah. I did.”
Sighing, he swept the garbage into one hand with the other.
“And I fucking...I hurt him. I left without saying anything. I...I fucked up. I just...figured…”
Laughing softly, he spread his arms, smiling, brow furrowed.
“Who the fuck am I, right? He’s a rockstar. I’m some guttersnipe from Seattle just trying to hustle and make things work. I’m a dime a dozen in LA. He’d find someone like me at another party and just...swap me out without batting an eye.”
“Obviously he didn’t think you’re pocket change if he flew to Baltimore to see you,” King noted, draining the last of the can. He crushed it flat easily in one hand and tossed it into the blue bin in the corner.
“Whatever you showed him when you opened up… he must’ve liked it. And he trusted you to know him. That’s not nothing, no matter who you are. I think you undervalue yourself, kid. But that’s a whole other thing…” The mutant’s expression turned curious. “Why’d you leave, if you had it so good in LA? Sounds like you had a happy relationship, a steady job…”
Silvio quieted, crinkling the candy wrappers in one hand.
“...Zane, there’s...something wrong with me. Kinda? Like...I have a problem. I don’t like discussing it a lot...Hell, at all, truth be told, but…”
As he spoke, seemingly oblivious to it, his visible tattoos began to shift and waver; move along his skin as if they were a film being projected upon him.
“...there was a chance it could have hurt the people close to me. I couldn’t risk that; them getting hurt because I had a problem. If they suffered because I was careless...I don’t know if I could have forgiven myself. So, it was a decision. Make a clean break and get the Hell out and not risk anyone’s harm, or come here with everything trailing behind me but take the chance it could all be ruined because I was too selfish to leave it behind.” Shaking his head, his mouth twisted into a frown. “If I had known Ax was that...if his feelings were that deep…”
King’s eyes drifted to the ink on Silvio’s skin as he spoke.
For a moment, he hesitated, blinking a bit too much; he ended up rubbing at his face, groaning a bit into his hand. Hallucinations weren’t uncommon, but it was strange to have them in a moment of extended lucidity courtesy of Silvio’s eye.
“Sorry,” he rumbled, “My eyes are… sometimes things don’t look right… I’m ok.”
Lifting his head, he refocused on Silvio’s face, trying to ignore the shift in the corners of his vision.
“Why did it hurt him that bad? It sounds like he did have a lot of friends, a lot of options… The way he decided to get back at you for leaving seemed a bit… dramatic.”
OH DAMNIT WE FORGOT ABOUT THAT.
Silvio blinked quizzically for a moment, his tattoos settling again. He’d have to ask Big Boss Spookitude what they’d meant later.
“I can’t say for sure,” Silvio said with a helpless shrug. “But I have some guesses. We were...the same in a lot of ways that can be pretty rare. And maybe...well, I won’t deny that maybe the depression kinda has an impact on how I see myself. I just never thought I’d be that special to somebody like Axton.”
“... I get that.”
King, after all, wasn’t a prime example of self-esteem. Regardless, he reached over, resting a broad, reassuring hand on Silvio’s shoulder.
“Maybe it’s time to start seeing your worth… I think even if he’s being a little punkass about it, Axton sure does. And if he really does know you? That means something. If you know him… you know why he’s hurt.” He sighed. “This is an outside perspective I guess, but as a big dude, everyone expects a certain tough act. I know how hard it is to be vulnerable when everyone expects you to be thick-skinned, or... an untouchable rockstar. And yeah, sometimes you end up feeling like the only way to prove you’re not really hurt is to start throwing punches.”
He cocked his head, eyeing Silvio’s face as he lowered his hand.
“I’d approach this situation with that understanding in mind… you didn’t deserve to get thrown on your head, but he didn’t deserve to be ignored, either. It sounds like he really did try everything else before confronting you in person, and this was a last resort. Let him blow off some steam in the ring, and then… try to talk to him about it. Apologize for hurting him. Even when we don’t mean to hurt somebody, and we do, we still have to say we’re sorry.”
Like you, to Adrienne, he thought. And so many others.
“That is… if you still want him to know you… if you want that spark back.”
“...I do.”
Silvio sighed, rubbing at his eyes. Seeing Axton again in the flesh, looking him in the eyes...that woodsy scent of his cologne? It made made so much come rushing back.
“I really do. And I wish I could just step in front of him, take the blows and have it be over, but I know he won’t do that. It’s not in his nature. I want to apologize; I want to do whatever I need to so it can be better for him. But I know the only thing he thinks will make him feel better is if he knows he’s hurt me as much I hurt him; eye for an eye and all that.”
“I get the feeling he’s already done that.”
King’s eyes were sombre and sympathetic.
“This is really eating you up. Even just the thought of this getting dragged out is hurting you already. If he’s in a bad place, maybe he’s not gonna know when to quit… it’s like when Big Guy snaps and goes rage-blind and he just won’t… stop. I can’t stop him, not until it’s gone too far. Until something like what happened to Levi... “
He grimaced, finishing the thought with his eyes on the floor. “Silvio, I think you need to find a way to make him see that he’s done enough. You’re both ready to leave the ring.”
Silvio nodded, looking up at Zane with red-rimmed eyes and smiling crookedly.
“Thanks for listening, dude. I really appreciate it.”
King gave Silvio’s shoulder one more squeeze and a bit of a friendly shake, his own smile faint.
“You’re the only real friend I have right now, kid. Nobody else knows I’m here inside my own head. I’d be a real monster not to be here for you, too.”
“I dunno how else to say this, dude,” Silvio said as he reached up to squeeze Zane’s hand on his shoulder. “But has anyone ever told you you got big dad energy?”
King snorted, grinning despite himself. “Big… dad energy.”
“Yeah, man. Maybe there’s a reason." Silvio got to his feet to dispose of the candy wrappers. “I’m gonna hit the shower and get some rest. It’s...going to be interesting for this next bit here.”
Maybe there’s a reason…?
After a moment of contemplation, King nodded and let loose a long sigh, stretching; no fewer than seven snaps cracked up his spine, which seemed to please him as he rolled his shoulders in satisfaction.
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to… you know, help.”
“Will do, friendo!” Silvio said, giving a wave over his shoulder. “Who knows? Maybe after this match it’ll all be out of his system.”