Page 13 of Inked Desires

AReS

I stare at the spot where Andrew stood just seconds ago, as if reliving the same story with William. A feeling of déjà vu washes over me.

He didn’t even let me speak, didn’t take the time to listen. Does he really think I’d sleep with my ex in the studio while he’s there? Haven’t I told him enough that he’s the one who matters to me? Damn it!

I force myself to look away. Andrew is already gone. Slowly, I drag myself through the apartment. There’s no trace of him left. Every movement feels like a superhuman effort and breathing becomes almost impossible, as knives pierce my stomach.

I stop in the back room of the shop and my fists clench instinctively when I see William.

“What are you still doing here?”

He jumps, nervously tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, then starts fiddling with his fingers.

“We need to talk,” he finally says.

“Talk?” I shout, my voice full of anger. “About what? Damn it!”

“About us...”

His lip trembles slightly, tears begin to fill his eyes. I hate seeing him cry. Before, I thought it was my fault. Now, it just annoys me more than anything.

“Fine. Then explain why you groped me like I was still your damn property,” I demand.

He shifts from one foot to the other. I wait for an explanation. When he showed up, I was too shocked to push him away. It was like a memory, and my body reacted by reflex. His closeness had always calmed me. But very quickly, it felt wrong... Those weren’t the right hands on my body.

“The divorce was a mistake, Ares,” he finally admits. “You’ve changed, you’ve grown.”

I run my hand through my hair. A dull pain drums at the back of my skull.

“That has nothing to do with you,” I answer sharply.

“I know... I should have been there for you. I ran when it got too hard. I’m sorry. I swear it won’t happen again.”

I’d waited a long time for this moment. I spent months lost in my thoughts, imagining what it would feel like if only he came back to me. I dreamed of holding him again, winning him back, hearing him apologize. But now that it’s all happened, I realize it was just an illusion. He’s no longer the one I desperately desire.

Still, it feels good to hear he’s sorry. But that’s it. I don’t want him anymore. What existed between us is now the past, and I have no intention of going back.

“I’m sorry too,” I say more calmly.

He moves closer, hope lighting up his face. He thinks I’ll forgive him. I quickly raise my hand to stop him.

“I’m sorry, but it changes nothing. It’s over, beautiful,” I say, using his nickname one last time.

The door bursts open, and I turn around.

“Caught you fondling each other again?” Kiran jokes as he enters.

William turns slightly toward him. His face hardens when he sees him. Kiran lifts his chin, crosses his arms over his chest, and looks at him with disgust.

“William. What the hell are you doing here, ugly?”

I hold back a laugh. Kiran can be a real asshole. Between William and me, a lot went wrong, but he doesn’t deserve that.

“I’m here to take my man back,” Kiran hisses toward William.

“Didn’t you hear what I just said? It’s over, William. We’re divorced,” I say more patiently than he deserves.

“It’s not over! The guy who works for you proves you still want me. He’s my spitting image!” he yells, hurt.

I shoot a desperate look at Kiran. How do you calm down a hysterical man? No matter what I say, it will only make things worse.

“He’s not like you. You couldn’t be more different,” I say gently.

“That’s bullshit!” he continues shouting.

“Enough. Ares won’t hit you, but I will,” Kiran says, grabbing his arm to drag him out of the room.

Finally, I breathe! Air fills my lungs like a release. I’ll have to throw Kiran a party one day, to thank him for all the times he’s pulled me out of trouble.

Exhausted, I flop down on the bench. What a mess.

“You okay?” Kiran asks, reappearing beside me.

“He’s gone?”

“He shouted in the street that you’re a son of a bitch, then left,” he says with a smile.

I just nod. An emptiness settles in my mind, making room for voices, memories, and a familiar pain. This time, it’s even more intense. It pierces me from the inside, pins me to the ground, and almost stops me from breathing.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, worried.

I look up. His gaze pierces me. Did he look at me like that last time?

“Andrew left,” I finally say.

“What? That bastard found him? How did he get there before me?”

“No,” I shake my head. “He left me.”

His shoulders slump. He sits down beside me.

“I thought things were going well between you?”

I shrug. So did I. I hoped he would finally start trusting me, share his burden. Damn it, I fell in love with a stranger. I can’t deny it anymore. I want him for myself.

“He doesn’t trust me.”

I’m disgusted with myself. I know I shouldn’t have let someone else into my life. I don’t deserve to be happy.

“Are you going to try to get him back?”

I stare at the white ceiling as if an answer would appear there. But there’s nothing—just emptiness.

“No. If he wanted me in his life, he would have said so,” I finally answer.

I can’t force him to share my feelings or stay with me. He always made it clear it wasn’t serious. He knew from the start he would leave town someday. William just gave him an easier excuse. If Andrew felt the same for me, he would have listened. It’s over. Maybe it’s better this way for both of us.

“Are you going to start drinking again?” my best friend asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

I take a moment to think. No. I don’t feel the need to drown myself in whiskey again. I’ve lived through that enough.

“No. A few new toys, and I’ll be myself again,” I reassure him with a forced smile.

“Want to just move on right away?” he asks, surprised.

It’s still the best solution. A new story to forget the previous one. My body needs to recover fast.

“That’s helped me so far, hasn’t it?” I point out.

He runs a nervous hand through his hair. He doesn’t seem convinced but is smart enough to say nothing. He probably prefers me sleeping with others rather than having to pick me up again to save the shop.

“Alright. And what about Jace? Should I just give up?”

“What exactly did you learn?”

“He faked Andrew’s death just to avoid saying where he was.”

I tap my thigh, letting his words echo in my mind.

“In that case, he won’t look for him anymore. To me, that’s a clear message.”

Kiran looks at me, clearly not convinced.

“I’m not sure. It could be a warning. Nobody officially declares someone dead that fast. He wants him to know. He probably paid people to make it happen.”

I take a deep breath. How can I help if I don’t even know where he is?

“Stop seeing evil everywhere. Anyway, it’s no longer my problem,” I say, brushing off his worries.

I stand and leave the room. I don’t want to talk about Andrew or my feelings anymore. I’m not the type to wallow. He only bruised my ego, nothing more.

Yet that damn weight on my chest refuses to disappear. I hoped too much, and now I have to deal with the consequences.

When I reach the office, I freeze. An uncontrollable laugh bursts from my throat. I sit down, laughing almost hysterically. This is one hell of a joke.

“What’s making you laugh?” Kiran asks from across the room.

“That idiot emptied my cash register,” I say, still giggling.

“What?”

“He stole from me! Today’s earnings, change... everything’s gone!” I shout, my laughter turning into rage.

Without thinking, I sweep everything off the desk. My fist slams down on the wood again and again. I want to feel pain, but it doesn’t come. I feel numb, furious, restless.

A firm grip on my shoulders forces me to stop. Kiran holds me back, pushing me to sit down.

“Look what you did. The screen and keyboard are busted. Now you’ll have to replace everything,” he grumbles.

“I don’t give a damn,” I snap back.

“That much is obvious,” he sighs, picking up a bunch of keys off the floor.

He’s going to lock the front door.

“Anyway, you can’t tattoo today. And even if I wanted to stop you from drinking, we’re doing it. You need to come down, man.”

He’s right. I can’t handle a tattoo machine with this burning anger inside me without risking hurting someone.

I nod in agreement. Kiran disappears into the back room. For a few minutes, I stay alone in the crushing silence of my shop. The ticking clock drives me crazy.

Kiran returns, a bottle of whiskey tucked under his arm, two glasses in one hand, and a stool in the other.

“You could’ve made two trips or asked me for help,” I say.

“Look like I need help?” he replies, dropping onto the stool.

I roll my eyes. He wants to be funny, but I don’t find it amusing.

He sets down the glasses and bottle on the table. I fill the glasses to the brim and down mine in one gulp. The burn in my throat warms my insides. Exactly what I need. I pour another.

“On a scale from one to ten, how bad is it this time?” Kiran asks, watching me.

I stare at my glass, hesitating on what he wants to hear. That it’ll be fine? That I don’t care about Andrew? That’d be a lie, and I hate lies.

“The number has so many zeros I wouldn’t even know how to say it.”

“Fuck,” he mutters.

I empty my glass again. Goodbye to my resolve not to drown my problems in alcohol.

“Yeah,” I agree. “It’s an unnameable shitshow. He left, my money’s gone, and he thinks I’m the asshole here. When all I wanted was what was his. I gave everything I had.”

“You sure you don’t want him back?”

“Yes,” I simply repeat.

“Are you at least going to file a report?” he asks, glancing at the empty cash register on the floor.

If I really wanted to hurt him, I would. But I know Andrew made sure no one can find him.

“I’d have to see him again for that. And that’s exactly what I want to avoid,” I answer.

Kiran nods, then takes a sip of his whiskey.

“Alright. As long as you don’t shut yourself in and drink every day, I’m good.”

I raise an eyebrow. He’s the one who locked the doors and brought out the bottle, not me.

He notices my look.

“Today’s an exception,” he clarifies.

“If you say so,” I shrug.

A silence falls. Neither of us has anything more to add. Honestly, I don’t want to talk about it. Words won’t change anything. What’s done is done. I just have to reorganize, like I always do. I’ll get through it. One day.

“What made him leave?” Kiran finally breaks the silence.

I sigh. Why does he need the details?

“William. Andrew showed up at the worst possible time,” I give in to satisfy his curiosity.

“You slept with him, huh?”

“No, damn it! I didn’t sleep with my ex. William just started groping me, and I was too shocked to push him away,” I explain, clenching my teeth.

Kiran stares at me, searching my face for the truth. Apparently, he doesn’t believe me either. Great.

“Why didn’t you tell him?”

I sigh again, pressing the cold glass to my forehead. The pounding in my head is unbearable.

“I stammered like an idiot, but Andrew didn’t want to hear it. No matter what I said, he didn’t care. He immediately labeled me the asshole,” I say, frustrated.

“Maybe because you are an asshole,” he mocks.

“But not the kind that would cheat on the man he loves,” I growl.

“You love him?”

The surprise in his voice is almost palpable. My confession shocks him — and me too. It’s one thing to admit it silently, another to say it out loud.

“It doesn’t matter,” I spit through clenched teeth.

I drop the glass and grab the bottle. I drink straight from the neck.

“You love him and you’re not going to get him back?” he insists.

Yes, damn it. I’m not going to chase him. I’m not his damn lapdog.

“I don’t need someone in my life who doesn’t trust me and always assumes I’m the worst. I can handle that alone,” I say resignedly, standing up.

The discussion is over for me. I don’t want to analyze my feelings anymore. I prefer to wallow in misery for a while before facing reality and getting my business back on track.

Kiran doesn’t follow me. He knows he won’t get anywhere with me today. And good. I just need a shower, a clean bed, and maybe another bottle of whiskey.

Tomorrow will be a new day. I’ll deal with the mess in the shop later. For now, the chaos on the floor perfectly reflects my emotions. A tasteless masterpiece signed by the bitter artist I’ve become.

Instead of following my plan, I don’t make the bed. I don’t take a shower. I flop down on his side of the bed and drown in his scent.

A wet sensation slides down my cheek. I raise my hand to my face.

Tears.

I bury my face deeper in the pillow. His scent soothes me, but the tears don’t stop. A strange, almost foreign feeling. How long had I not allowed myself this? What’s the point of crying? I’d convinced myself it was useless, that it wouldn’t change anything, that it only made me weaker.

Yet tonight, I have no strength left to fight. I let the tears fall silently, as if they betray everything I’m trying to bury inside.