Part 1
The exhaustion weighs over me, the strap of my bag dragging my form down in the most unprofessional way as I walk through the parking garage. It takes me a moment to identify my old, filthy car at the end of the lot. I groan at the heat, seeping through and creating this musty old metal odor I would give anything to never smell again. What makes it ten times worse is that the car takes a couple of minutes to start up, the engine rumbling to life, and an additional four minutes for the air conditioning to work–if it decides to turn on.
Once I’m driving out, I roll down the windows and let the fresh air sink into my lungs, soaking up the cool wind as I drive. The summer heat escapes, the stress of work gone for a brief instant as I cruise on the freeway. With the city behind me at least, the firm miles away, I think I can see the stars.
This momentary peace lasts for ten minutes out of my entire day before I take the exit off. I have to roll up the windows to not smell what few cars spewing out toxic gas that accumulates at the busy turns into town.
Honestly, I don’t know why I’m not so grateful. At least I’ve got a car, a nice house provided by my parents, food, a job with a good degree, and a roommate who doesn’t drive me insane. Most of the time.
Finnick deserves more credit. He’s in the last stretch of university with only two more semesters left. Two more grueling, complicated years of field work at the local space center. He’s training to become an aerospace engineer, or I guess he wants to build rocket ships. I can’t fathom why anyone would want to study so much math and sciences. Either way, Finnick’s the kind of person to completely absorb himself in his work for a period of time, then recover on the couch with a stack of books. Regardless of those messy days, he’s one of the most positive people I know.
I take a right and drive through town, watching the busy streets filled with people out having the typical Friday night. Dressed and laughing with friends outside restaurants, out having fun while they can in bars and parks. The reality of going back to the same house, same daily routine, doesn’t phase me anymore. I signed up for this when I entered law school and then completed the bar exam, officially declaring me an official practitioner of the law. It’s supposed to be a life of successes and champagne, of designer cars and luxury trips.
Thus far, it’s been quite the opposite.
Into one of the more quiet areas of town, the area I usually spend more time in, I drive up the little bit of hills that separates the suburbs and civilization. My ears pop, the stars clear out above, the rhythm of car engines dissipating the longer I twist through.
I pull into my neighborhood, with most of the houses in front identical except for the various cars parked along the driveways. I live about five minutes in, where houses are more spaced apart and bright with flower beds and neatly trimmed trees.
The house Finnick and I are renting is tall, pale gray color with clear windows and a detached garage I absolutely despise because it’s filled with the owner’s stuff, so it’s pretty much useless to me. Stepping out of the car, the summer night hair now color against my face, I hear the dogs beginning to bark and paw at the back door. They do this whenever they hear the car and no one is home.
“Hey boys,” I say between the happy yelps of Arlo. His whole body shakes and wags with his tail, tongue flopping all around his jaw. It takes me a few minutes to settle, sighing when dropping my bag on the bench and slipping my shoes away. Arlo seizes the second I bend down to lick all over my face, his body flinging in every which way, just like every night after work.
Apollo sits by the backyard door, whining and sniffing at the door handle. Unbuttoning my sleeves and the top at my collar, I let them out. Both of them are pretty intelligent and are great companions, but are incredibly needy for every speck of attention they can muster. I fold my hair back, the gel from this morning now utterly useless, observing the dogs jump on each other in the unkept yard.
There were no new clients today, as I had hoped. I just finished a demanding case that ended in a close call. I hate losing, especially in this line of work. What’s worse is seeing the defeated faces of clients, the energy drained out from their souls like they were merely batteries for someone’s enjoyment. To top it off, that last case meant that we lost to some blood sucking corporation that obviously had no care for decency.
That’s part of the job, though. Accepting the failure and moving on to help someone else. To not take it personally because either way, I get paid. Yet, I can’t ever seem to release the defeat and it becomes a part of me.
The doorbell rings, jarring me back to the normality of it all. I didn’t order food, especially at eight in the evening after already eating at the firm. Finnick always comes in through the back, too. I slide the door closed to assure the dogs don’t come running after me.
I don’t think the average person would be able to recognize someone they once knew five years ago. It took me a minute to recognize Colten Byun standing on my front steps, a thick black mask covering the bottom half of his face. A dark hood is over his hair, his bangs folding over the sides of his face and curled into a wave. But it’s his eyes that are unmistakable, the chocolate brown and the little curve. I couldn’t forget them, even if I tried. The way they shimmer in the light.
I can’t say anything. It’s as if the air is being sucked out of my lungs as I blatantly stare at him, in front of me, for the first time since we said our brief farewells, moments before an empty coffee shop closed for the night. If it weren’t for his eyes, I wouldn’t be able to recognize him underneath all the layers of clothing. Yet I see him in magazines, hear his name pop up in radio stations from time to time, and notice when my little sister says his name while with friends. I try to brush it all off, put him in the back of my mind on a sticky note in a forgotten notebook. All I know is that he’s a part of a music group that’s produced several famous songs. I didn’t keep up with all the music amidst work and school.
All of the feelings I had stored away now scrape at me, washing over the longer we keep eye contact. All the memories, the experiences, the firsts. I regret not fixing my hair now. It’s probably sticking up in every direction and the light circles under my eyes might make me look like some sort of deranged zombie. The strewn button up, the loose tie hanging around my neck, and bright blue socks. I probably look, if anything, tipsy.
If he’s anything like he was in highschool, he won’t care.
I don’t notice the other man beside him until he clears his throat. This man’s double the size of Colten, with lighter brown hair tucked underneath a sports hat and hands half out of his jean jacket. I shift on my feet, glancing back at Colt.
I don’t know if I should call him Colt anymore.
“Jax?” Colten asks, his voice light and shaky like he can’t really be seeing me. The grip on his arm tightens.
“Hi,” I mutter, my eyes drifting over them, camouflage in the dark.
“Hi.”
“Sorry, come in,” I say, pulling the door open for them. The man strides in front, his arms blocking Colten as he peers into the house. The man inspects everything, eyes squinting and head slowly scanning over the entryway, like an over dramatic detective. Colten mumbles something inaudible to the man, causing him to step away and let Colten past.
“This is Luke… my bodyguard,” Colten says after I close the door.
“Hello,” I say, gulping and extending my hand to him. Luke’s at least four inches taller than me with one hundred pounds of what I presume is pure muscle. He merely nods at me and continues to survey the house. Colten taps his arm and nods toward the door. Humming, Luke finally looks at me, directly into my eyes. His sharp and firm features remind me of those stereotypical, strict school principals.
“You have about an hour. I’ll be in the car,” he says, voice gruff and low. He turns toward Colten. “Call me if you need anything.”
Colten nods. Luke swings open the door and leaves before I get to say anything. Just like that, it’s just Colten and I.
We stand there for minutes, frozen. He looks down, his bangs covering the rest of his face from my view. Now in the light, I can see the outline of his frame, bulky from his jacket. It makes him look twice his size compared to how thin his legs are, especially in black jeans. I don’t stare. I can’t as the horrible fears swarm in my head from why he’s so thin, considering all the things that plagued him during our teen years. Considering what has happened to lead him right here, in front of me.
Why is he even here? After five, long, hard years? With a bodyguard, no less.
“Sorry. He’s nice, just on edge,” Colten apologizes.
“It’s fine,” I say. “You can take your shoes off by the door and come in, if you’d like.”
He nods, his eyes roaming the house. His gaze is vastly different, examining my entire home like he’s trying to place the pieces of a puzzle together. I gulp and motion for him to follow me through the corridor and into the kitchen.
The living room, while parallel to the kitchen, is far more organized. The sofa’s neatly set, dog toys not strewn over the rugs, and coffee table aligned, all a scene out of a catalog. While in the disaster, I haven’t washed the dishes, picked up the toys, or closed the cabinets. An opened, empty package sits by the almost empty bowl of fruit at the center of the island. On the breakfast table is Finnick’s closed laptop, stacked folders, an empty mug, and a closed box of cheerios. The typical college student set up.
“Would you like something to drink or eat?” I ask, opening the fridge. The only fruit that’s left is a bag of apples. Apples were Colten’s favorite in high school.
“No thank you,” he says. Colten’s standing awkwardly in the center of the mess, hands folded over his back.
He jolts, his form straightening right as one of the dogs begins to bark from outside. It’s definitely Apollo’s with the fierce and booming effect. Arlo joins in, his bark equally loud, but more energized and playful like the typical retriever.
“Sorry,” I say.
“Are they ok?”
I hesitate, biting the inside of my lip to remind myself that this is real. I need to get them quiet. “They’re ok. It’s just their dinner time. Do you mind if I feed them real quick to quiet them down?”
“Go ahead ,” he says, watching the dogs bark in front of the patio doors.
I race to fill the dogs dishes, inadvertently slipping some of their kibble all over the counter. I wedge myself between the dogs and the door before slipping into the backyard. Arlo’s full attention shifts to me and the food dish, practically walking over my feet as I try to lead them further into the yard. Apollo, reluctantly, trots away from the door, his head tipped back to stare inside. He’s always been the nervous, skittish one, despite his enormous size.
“You have dogs,” he mumbles when I walk back in. He’s still watching the door, expectantly.
“Yeah. Apollo and Arlo.”
“Those are cute names.”
I chuckle, “I don’t know who named them. They’re both rescues.”
His head tilts, the bangs falling. His eyebrows peak from beneath.
“Yeah. The german shepherd is Apollo, and the golden is Arlo. They’re both rescues from bad situations, when they were puppies.”
Colten hums, turning back to face me.
“Please sit down,” I insist, shuffling Finnick’s things together. “Sorry, it’s such a mess. I haven’t made my way to cleaning the kitchen yet.”
“It’s ok,” he rushes, waving his small hands dismissively. He sits, eyes roaming over the cleaner part of the table–my side to be precise. I plop Finnick’s belongings to the couch and sit across from him, fumbling with my hands until I just cross my arms. Finally, he removes the mask from his face.
When I knew him in highschool, he had this young look, still growing and trying to fit into his skin. I remember, as clear as day now, the fullness in his neck and his round cheeks. But now, his entire face is eerily slim, narrow, with sharper features outlining his cheeks and nose. From his chiseled jaw to thin eyebrows, he looks more mature and calm. He’s different from the person I knew in highschool, yet I can’t stop myself from hoping he hasn’t changed much. Everybody changes in five years. But, the longer I look at him, he’s still got that elegant and youthful effect, glowing off of him in waves. Still, I don’t know how he does it.
“How have you been?” I ask.
Colten shrugs, his shoulders popping out of the jacket in little bumps. “Many things. How are you?”
Before I can say anything, Apollo starts to bark, seated right in front of the sliding door. This time, Colten only flinches at the sound.
“Sorry they’re so loud,” I apologize, leaning back on the chair. “Apollo tends to grow nervous around new people. He’ll calm once he sees you’re alright. Don’t worry, neither have never bitten anyone.”
“It’s alright,” he murmurs, “I’ve only been around smaller dogs. We’ve worked with a few smaller dogs,” he explains, completely entranced with Apollo, who tilts his head to get a better view of us.
“We?”
He stills for a brief moment, before nodding slowly. I watch as he pulls his hood down. His hair is longer, more tame, and definitely uniquely styled with waves and layers upon layers. Then, unmistakably the Colten from high school, runs his hands through it, just like he used to.
“How have you been?” Colten asks.
I nod. “Alright.”
“How’s law school?”
I’m kinda surprised he remembers I was studying law.
“I actually finished earlier this year.”
The corners of his lips tilt up, the edges of his eyes curving, like stars. “Congratulations. Have you been involved in any cases yet?”
“Only a few. Nothing to be proud of or anything. I’m just starting,” I say, chuckling to try and mask my discomfort and confusion.
“What have you been up to?”
He pulls his bottom lip in, the small smile fading.“Just… still in music and dance.”
I stopped myself from facepalming. Sometimes, my memory is like a goldfish, fleeting and compact into one cube. “Correct me if I’m wrong, I haven’t been keeping up with the music scene, but aren’t you a part of that music group, Era?”
As his hand slithers to the nape of his neck, Colten releases this short, breathy laugh. A laugh that sounds like he’s relieved and engulfed in anxiety. “Yeah, I am.”
“Sorry, I missed out on the music scene while studying.”
“It’s ok,” he assures, “don’t worry.”
I nod, leaning back on my chair. Apollo’s finally still, content by the door, ears attentively up and toward Colten.
“How’s that going?” I ask.
Colten casts his gaze down to his lap. I watch as he bites his lip, his a halt in his breaths and jaw working like he’s configuring the hardest math equation known to man. He searches his hands, as if he’s searching for some answer or the right words.
“It’s been… a rollercoaster, I guess,” he mutters, a long breath following the words. His eyes lock with mine, dark and a little faded. I’ve seen this look before, in reserved clients who are filled with so many emotions, expressing them seems like it might kill them in an instant. I’m caught between whether I should press for more information, or be nonchalant. I know he doesn’t want to talk about it, but really wants to all at once in some twisted, fucked up way.
“I understand that. Work is different once you really learn what it looks like beyond what you thought.”
Colten hums, unmoving. “I’m sorry. I just–I know me showing up was unexpected. I just… do you mind if I ask you a question?”
I straighten, feeling my heart pulse in my throat. “Go ahead,” I say slowly.
He takes a long, deep breath before glancing back up at me, biting his lip. “The band, group I’m in… We need legal advice.”
“When you say ‘we’ you mean the entire group, right?” I say, clarifying and shoving down my countless new questions.
“Yes,” he says, swallowing. His adam’s apple is so visible. I don’t remember his neck ever being so thin.
“Ok,” I nod. “What do you need help with?”
I stare at him, the room so quiet I can hear his hands fumbling underneath the table.
“We want to sue our entertainment label for $20 million… plus any legal fines.”
~
Authors Note
Hello! This is my first post on M&M and I’m quite excited for future ones. This is the first part to a potentially long series/novel…? I am still unsure about what exactly I want to do with this storyline and have not properly planned out all of the details. However, this part has been living in my mind rent free for way too long. I hope I can continue this idea as there are a lot of complicated topics and important issues I want to discuss that can potentially be brought up here. Idk… :p
Have a nice day!
