A/N: Hi there guys! So I finally got a new computer! My old one with all my stories and everything was stolen, and I finally got a new one. So I couldn't even update an author's note on Diamonds and Emeralds letting everyone know what was going on. ): But my grandpa gave me a PC he doesn't use, and now I can play Dragon Age 2 again! Anyways, this is an idea I had a couple nights ago and knew I absolutely had to write it. It is inspired by, but not based on RENT, one of my favorite musicals (technically opera… but that's irrelevant). I already know it's going to be a trilogy. Alrighty, here's the relevant stuff now.
Universe: AU, 1980s New York, during the AIDS/ HIV outbreak
Main Pairing (Part 1): Fenris/ M!Hawke
Other pairings: Isabela/Merrill, mentions Anders/M!Hawke, Aveline/Donnic
Summary: 1980s New York AU. Work as a bartender in the heart of Bohemia wasn't exactly his choice, but in the midst of it all, Fenris meets a man who changes his perception of his situation, and more importantly, of what life means. Slash.
Warnings: Slash, mentions of violence and abuse, language, mentions of drug use
Disclaimer: I don't own Bioware, I don't own RENT, and I don't even own a friggin' t-shirt of Dragon Age.
It was a boring job, most of the time. The same slobbering drunks, the mediocre bands trying to make their name at some underground, smoke-filled, disease-ridden bar where the artists spent the little money they could scrounge. Always the same story. It was strange the first day that a regular wouldn't come in, but everyone knew the reason. Half the bar was infected. Hell, half of Alphabet City was infected. The dancers turned strippers, the musicians stuck in the hellhole of a bar, the screenwriters with their cameras that they protected like children. Everyone had their own story yet every story was the same.
It was his story that was different. He didn't come to the city by choice to join Bohemia and the artists. He joined the community when the only place that would hire him was the bar in the heart of the artists. His body was covered in tattoos, after all. When you had a father who was an experimental tattoo artist, you were bound to have some odd ones. What made his so striking was the white ink, the lines of scar-like color that in certain lights seemed to almost glow blue. He had allowed the tattooing for only one reason: should he refuse, his father would lose his temper and beat his sister. His father's addiction was what drove him to find any job he could; he couldn't protect his sister otherwise. His mother had died in labor, and he had assumed role of head of house at an early age.
He refused to share his real name with the patrons who asked. He refused advances, reminding himself that he needed to care for his sister. That excuse was just words now, as his sister had left for college with the money he saved during the first four years of employment. She worked a job herself, applied for scholarships, did everything that would make getting away from her home state possible. Finally, between the two of them, she had enough to make it to California to pursue a degree in business. She had left, but he had stayed at the bar. There were few places likely to hire him with his tattoos, and he would take what he could get.
If that weren't his only deterrent, the bar was the only place where the patrons cared so little about the appearances of the staff that no one commented on what he considered his most embarrassing feature. He had been born with Stahl ear deformity, giving his ears a pointed shape. It embarrassed him, and through school he had been teased, called "knife ear" and "elf boy" by classmates. As a result, he hid his ears under his bleached white hair or a beanie out of habit.
"Corff, who's playing tonight?" he asked, referring to his boss by his last name, as did everyone. He threw his bag under the bar, preparing to organize his favorite space to stand.
"Um, I think the band is called 'Lothering' or something," Corff responded, counting the cash register down to the appropriate amount. "Fenris, did you get a lot of tips last night?"
Glancing up from the glass he was cleaning, Fenris furrowed his brow, trying to remember what the night had been like. "No," he responded slowly. "It was pretty slow since there wasn't a concert crowd last night. I think I made 20 or so." Without a word, Corff walked over and handed him a twenty dollar bill. Fenris looked at his quizzically.
"We've been doing well. Take it and actually eat something, okay?" With a pat on Fenris' shoulders, Corff walked back to the register.
"Thanks," Fenris said softly. Wishing to clear the mood that had just been set, he asked, "What do you know about tonight's band?"
"My girlfriend's brother is the singer, so she begged me to let them play here. I've heard he's pretty good, but she told me the rest of the band is really there because of her brother," he admitted.
"I didn't know Bethany had a brother," Fenris said, his eyebrows raised in surprise.
"She's got two, actually. Her older brother is the singer, while her twin brother is the drummer. He's supposedly pretty decent, too, but the older one is the real talent of the band. The guitarist is supposed to be pretty hot, too. Some foreign chick," the bar owner mused, a small smile playing across his lips.
"I'm sure Bethany wouldn't be too pleased to hear you talking like that," Fenris interjected with a snort of laughter. "Do you mind if I open this bottle of wine?" he asked, holding up the bottle. Corff looked at it for a moment, then nodded.
"Don't drink it all, okay?"
With a laugh, Fenris grabbed the corkscrew and opened the bottle, pouring himself a glass, then offering one to his superior. The man laughed and shook his head.
"You know I don't drink wine, Fenris. Only the hard stuff for me. No mixers, either," he said with a cheeky grin.
"Fine, fine," Fenris said, corking the bottle and putting it back. "I won't offer you a drink again, then." He turned away so Corff wouldn't see the small smirk on his face.
"Are you implying that I won't be able to drink from my own bar?" Corff asked indignantly. "I make drinks here, too!" Fenris burst into laughter, shaking his head.
"No, I just meant I won't be the one making your drinks," Fenris chuckled. He turned towards the door as it opened, revealing Corff's girlfriend, Bethany, and two men he could only assume were her brothers.
"Bethy, you never told me your boyfriend had such interesting tattoos!" the one who could only be her twin exclaimed, looking at Fenris in an almost appraising way. Bethany rolled her eyes.
"That's not my boyfriend, idiot," she said, walking up to the bar. Corff walked over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. She smiled. "We've got the equipment outside. Mind if we bring it in and get set up so the band can practice before a crowd gets in?"
"Of course," he replied, smiling back at her. Fenris snorted at the two of them, turning his back to them to wipe down the necks of the bottles.
"Excuse me," came from behind Fenris, and he turned around to see the older brother standing at the bar. He raised an eyebrow.
"Can I get anything for you?" he asked, already half-reaching for a glass.
"Could I actually just get some water? I'm gonna need it," he said, smiling crookedly at Fenris. He had dark hair, a stubbly beard, and the most piercing eyes Fenris had ever seen. In true rocker style, there were smudges of black eyeliner, but it looked like he'd had a fight with the pencil and the pencil had won.
"Sure," Fenris said, stifling a laugh. As he handed him his water, he couldn't help but add, "You might want to go look in a mirror before you perform, though. You look like a Klaus Nomi wannabe right now." Bethany's older brother gave him an odd look before setting the glass down on the bar.
"Who exactly are you?" he asked, staring at Fenris. Said man was a bit unnerved by the stare, but held it.
"I'm a bartender," he said simply. The man rolled his eyes.
"I know that, but even bartenders have names. Care to share? Mine's Garrett," he said, fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass.
Before he knew it, he blurted out "Leto. My name's Leto." Silently cursing himself, he must have shown it on his face, for Garrett raised his eyebrows.
"I'm guessing you don't tell many people that," he said slowly. A cheeky smile invaded his face. "I guess it must be my charisma and roguishly good looks that made you tell me."
"No, I don't," Fenris said stiffly. "I'd prefer it if you called me Fenris. I don't want to associate my past life with the life I have now." He turned abruptly away from Garrett.
"Oh come on now, I didn't make you say it. That was all you, my friend," Garrett said. Fenris froze, realizing the truth in his words, but also surprised at the sentiment at the end. He knew it was common, but still, it came as a surprise. With a sigh, he turned back around.
"I apologize for my curtness. I've just never told anyone since I worked here. Well, besides Corff," he admitted, a small smile gracing his face.
"It's all right. We all have our stories, don't we?" Garrett said, offering a friendly smile.
"But all the stories sound the same when you hear them enough. They blur together and become one entity so that you no longer know whose story is whose. I've heard enough pasts that sometimes I forgot my own and took on someone else's," Fenris said. "Mine is not the worst I've heard. Certainly, it was not pleasant, but I was one of the luckier ones."
"Mine sounds like a novel, in all honesty," Garrett admitted. "Mother elopes with a man her parents don't like, moves to New York, and has three children, losing her inheritance to her weasel of a brother." Fenris smiled, grateful that Garret had not asked about his. Garrett's smile fell. "Then father died in Vietnam and now Bethy, Carver, and I take care of mother."
"Why are you telling me this? We met about five minutes ago," Fenris said softly, unsure of how else to respond.
"I don't know," Garrett said honestly. "There's just something about you that I'm drawn to. Something that says I could tell you anything and you wouldn't pretend to like me out of sympathy. I like that in a man," he added, causing Fenris' eyebrows to shoot up. Was he… flirting?
With a wry smile, Fenris leaned over the bar, close to Garrett. "I don't like people, generally. But something about you draws me in," he said, echoing Garrett's statement. "Like I could tell you anything and you wouldn't judge me, or call me a freak, as has been done."
"About your tattoos? Or those ears I can see through your hair?" Garrett asked, and Fenris blushed madly, covering the tips with his hands. "They make you different. And in this Bohemia, where everyone's perception of unique is the same, you're quite the breath of fresh air. You don't seem to live in your past, either."
Fenris chuckled drily. "The past has ways of finding us, even when we don't want it to. It sneaks up on you, delicately working its way into your present, like hands, before it grabs you like a vice and destroys what you worked so hard to build. The past was once our present, and it's bitter at being replaced."
As Fenris turned away, he left Garrett wondering exactly what he had meant before his siblings called him over to help set up. Bethany gave him a small smile as she looked between him and Fenris.
"What do you think of Fenris, hm?" she asked, smirking as Garrett fumbled with the cords. He glanced at her.
"He's interesting," he responded vaguely, his tone of voice making it abundantly clear he didn't really want to say any more. But, of course, as the younger sister, Bethany felt it was her duty to question him.
"Those tattoos are something, huh? Apparently his father was an experimental tattoo artist and he gave those to Fenris when he was 15. It wasn't even his choice," she said softly. Garrett froze and looked at the slender bartender as the said man rolled the sleeves of his leather jacket to his elbows.
"They were forced on him?" Garrett asked quietly, turning back towards his sister. "I can't imagine how humiliating it must have been for him to explain in school."
"Corff said he used to be the brunt of the jokes in his high school. They teased his tattoos, his alcoholic father, and his ears. Poor thing," she said, giving him a sad look.
"I'm not sure he'd appreciate you talking about it," Carver cut in, carrying an amp past them. "And I can't set up the whole damn stage by myself, you—" He was cut off by the noisy entrance of a woman who caused Fenris to look up, shocked anyone could make that much noise coming down a flight of stairs.
"Bela!" Bethany exclaimed, running over to the woman (who had apparently been hitting her guitar case against the wall as she entered). She set down her case, looked around, saw Fenris, and an animalistic gleam appeared in her eyes. Ignoring her band mates, she walked straight towards him.
"Hi there, lovely," she purred, pushing her chest forward.
"Erm, hi," Fenris said nervously, looking anywhere but at her. "Did you want a drink?"
"Oh, honey," she laughed, "I always want a drink. But what I want here is you. Isabela," she said, holding her hand out in greeting.
"Fenris," he returned distractedly, gingerly shaking her hand.
"Oh come on, Isabela, you're making him nervous. Get your tan ass over here," Garrett called, much to Fenris' relief.
With a wink, Isabela turned and walked to the stage where Hawke was setting up. "Don't tell Merrill I did that," she said, loudly enough for Fenris to hear. With a shake of his head, he went back to leaning on the bar, looking around for something to do in the hour before the bar technically opened. Corff came over and gently elbowed him in the side.
"Why don't you show Garrett over there where the soundboard is?" he suggested, a slightly suggestive smirk on his face. With a sigh, he pushed himself up and over the bar, walking over to Garrett.
"We've got a soundboard if you need to take a look at it," he said. Garrett grinned and nodded. "I'll need some help carrying everything out, after I show you how it works."
"I do know how to operate a soundboard, but our sound guy, Donnic, might like to take a look at this later, too," Garrett said.
"Ours is… well, weird. Plus the guy who gave it to us scratched off all the numbers, so hopefully, he's good with levels on sight," Fenris said, leading Garrett through a door next to the bar and down a short hall. He unlocked one of three doors, shoving it open and using his foot to hold the door open. He tugged a chain to switch the light on.
"Did this used to be a cleaning supply closet?" Garrett asked, wrinkling his noise.
"Yeah, how could you tell?" Fenris asked, leaning over to look for the doorjamb.
"Smells like bleach," he said, and Fenris laughed.
"I guess when you work in a bar and get stuck cleaning bathrooms every other night, you get used to the smell of bleach. It's the only reason those things are useable," he laughed, finally finding the rubber wedge and shoving it under the door with what was probably more force than necessary. "Okay, I need you to grab this end of the table and I'll grab the other." Fenris squeezed his way inside the tiny room and grabbed the end of the table the soundboard was situated on. Garrett picked up his end easily, and they maneuvered out of the small room and into the hall.
Uncovering the board, Garrett whistled. "The guy who had this before really did a number on it, didn't he?"
"Yeah, he really did. But at a place like this, you take what you can get," Fenris said with a shrug, pointing out a few of the board's irregularities.
"At least you have one. We've been fucked over by venues that didn't tell us we needed our own. We can't exactly afford one, you know?" Garrett said, studying the board.
"Yeah, I do know," Fenris said softly, staring at his tattooed hand on the sliders.
"Hey, um, do you mind if I ask about the story behind your tattoos?" Garrett asked, wondering if what Bethany told him was true.
"I… don't know you. I am not comfortable telling you. I'm sorry. They were not my choice, though," he said, not meeting Garrett's eyes.
"We're practically best friends, you already told me your real name!" Garrett said jokingly, his laugh fading when Fenris glared at him.
"Do not remind me of the mistake I made. I am not Leto, at least not to you," he growled, startling Garrett.
"Sorry, Fenris, I…" he trailed off and Fenris sighed heavily.
"It is I who should be sorry. I am blaming you for something you had no say in. I'm making my problems yours, and we've known each other for such a short time," he said, running a hand through his hair.
"You shouldn't keep this just to yourself, you know. It's not healthy," Garrett said softly. "I'll listen and offer the impartial ear only someone you hardly know can, if you'd like."
"I… thank you for the offer, but I don't feel I can trust you yet," Fenris replied, pointedly looking at his feet.
"What would it take to make you trust me?" Garrett murmured, stepping closer to Fenris, who was too surprised to take a step back.
"I don't know," he said after a pause. "I've never had anyone want me to trust them before."
"Well, I want to get to know you. You're interesting," he said simply.
"I… I don't have a reason to refuse," Fenris said thoughtfully. Garrett smiled.
"Excellent. Now, let's get this board out there before they think we've either killed each other or are fucking," Garrett said, lifting his end of the table. Fenris started, barely managing to lift his side before the board slid.
"You are lucky that didn't slide. Corff would kill me if I broke it, as well as make me replace it," Fenris said sternly.
"You'd be dead and broke, then. Well that would suck," Garrett laughed, starting to lead out into the main bar.
"Hey, Garrett, can you put the board closest to the amps? I'll get everything hooked up, as long as the cords can reach the connectors on the board," a brown-haired man said. Garrett led Fenris to the specified area and set down the board.
"Donnic, you might want to have Fenris here show you the board. It's kind of totaled," Garrett said, wiping his hands on the front of his dark jeans. He pulled off the cover and Donnic let out a barking laugh.
"That is awful," he said, laughing.
"It still works, but it looks like shit," Fenris said, shrugging.
"I'll say it does." Fenris showed him the workings of the board before going back to the bar. It appeared the other members of the band had arrived while he and Garrett were getting the soundboard.
"Isabela, can I set up my keyboard right here?" The girl's voice was oddly airy, and Fenris could tell she was naïve, but not stupid just from her question.
"Of course, Kitten," Isabela responded, leaning over and giving her a peck on the cheek. So that must be the Mer-something she mentioned earlier, he thought.
For the first time that night, he heard an instrument playing, and looked over to see an intimidating-looking red-haired woman tuning an electric bass. Unlike the two other women in the band, she wore black pants, where they wore skirts. He made a mental note to steer clear of her, as her combat boots looked like they could crush him instantly. Her striking make-up didn't make her any less fierce, either.
Corff saw the expression on his face and walked over. "Bethany said her name was Aveline. She wanted to be a soldier, but they just started allowing women at the academies a few years ago, so she gave the whole service the bird for not taking her straight out of high school," he said. "Her husband's the sound man, and apparently, the story of how they got together is hilarious."
Fenris gave a noncommittal grunt as he took a sip of his wine that had been sitting on the counter. "She's still scary as hell," he muttered. Bethany came up and took a seat at the bar in front of him.
"So Fenris, how are you doing tonight?" she asked, offering him a smile. He returned the smile, and turned to make a gin and tonic.
"Fine, Bethany," he said, turning back and handing her the drink.
"You know me so well," she said, winking. She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, and leaned over the bar towards Fenris. "You should keep an eye on Garrett. I think he likes you." She pulled back, giggling. Fenris stared at her.
"I…" He couldn't form words, nonplussed.
"Oh come on, how long has it been since you dated anyone?" she asked, playfully patting his arm.
"Um…" Fenris blushed. "I've never dated anyone."
"What?" Bethany shrieked, earning her a few odd looks from the members of the band. Corff, used to it, ignored her. She managed to lower her voice to normal speaking volume. "Why didn't you tell me? You made it sound like you had!"
"I don't like to talk about it," he said, still blushing. "I wasn't really liked, and I don't want my first time to be with a bar patron I may never see again."
"Well, I think you'd like Garrett if you got to know him," she said knowingly. "I know you think he's hot, don't you?"
"Yes," he replied. Bethany raised an eyebrow at his straightforwardness.
"Then get to know him! He thinks you're interesting, you know," she said.
"Yes, I do know. He told me himself, and that he'd like to get to know me," Fenris said with a chuckle.
"He's kind of an idiot sometimes, just as a warning. His sarcasm can be kind of insensitive sometimes," she said, taking a sip from her gin and tonic. She opened her mouth to speak again, but was cut off by the loud feedback from one of the amps. Fenris winced and covered his ears, looking over at the stage, where Isabela was guiltily turning down the volume on her amp.
After a few minutes of tuning and last setup, the band actually began to play something. Fenris tuned them out as he wiped down tables before the bar opened. They generally got a bigger crowd on nights when a band was playing, mostly because band members invited friends, but also because the bar was much less a place to drown the miseries of life on concert nights.
The band started playing about an hour after the bar opened, filling the room with much more noise than the patrons already did. Behind the bar, Fenris was busy mixing drinks for those situated on the stools, rather than at one of the tables, most of which were full. It was good for business, but usually left both he and Corff drained by the end of the night. Concert nights were great for tips, too.
"Hello, starving artists of Alphabet City," Garrett began from the stage, drawing a laugh from the audience. "We are Lothering, and we're gonna start tonight with an oddly ironic song for this audience. I'd like to dedicate this cover of Depeche Mode's Blasphemous Rumours to those who have lost someone, or are currently losing someone, to AIDS." With that, the band began to play, and Fenris, who had finished mixing the last drink that had been ordered, froze, having missed the introduction, as he recognized the song.
He stared at the stage, furrowing his brow. The band wasn't bad, really. When Garrett opened his mouth and sang, though, he commanded the attention of the entire room. Fenris gaped at him. Corff wasn't kidding when he had said Garrett was the real talent of the band. Tearing his gaze away when he felt a tap on his shoulder, he began mouthing the words to what was one of his favorite songs. Unable to help himself, he danced a bit while making the scotch and soda that had been ordered. Looking back at the stage, he saw Garrett looking at him with a smirk. They locked eyes as he sang and Fenris pantomimed the words, a defiance in Fenris' gaze.
"Now I don't want to start any blasphemous rumours, but I think that God's got a sick sense of humour, and when I die, I expect to find him laughing," Fenris said, totally inaudible over Garrett's singing. It really was an ironic song for the crowd, but strangely fitting. His smirk widening, Garrett broke the stare, turning his attention back to the audience as a whole. Coming back to himself, Fenris realized he still held the scotch and soda in his hand and apologetically set it down in front of the customer.
"He's good, huh?" the customer yelled over the sound of the music.
"No kidding!" Fenris replied. This particular man was a regular of the bar, a writer. He tended to serenade people with his poetry, including Fenris. As the song ended, the bar exploded in shouts and whistles. Fenris had never heard a reaction like that to any of their performers, but then they'd never had a band with that much talent.
"We're going to go now to a Blondie song that doesn't really make sense, but what really does in music these days? Rapture, featuring Aveline Vallen on the spoken verses," Garrett said, gesturing to the woman that Fenris had decided to steer clear of. She smiled and her facial features softened, and Fenris was suddenly less intimidated. He wasn't a huge fan of the song, so he began to tune it out while attending to the people who had approached the bar during the break between songs. The bar was beginning to get truly packed, and he was busy through the end of the song.
The band played for an hour before Garrett announced they would be taking a break and playing again in half an hour. The band all made their way to the bar, where the audience, for once, was willing to get off their stools to give them a place to sit. Fenris made their drinks and naturally settled himself in front of Garrett.
"Do you only play covers?" Fenris found himself asking over the chatter.
"No, the second half will be original songs only," Garrett replied. "Our songwriter isn't here tonight, but he writes down the thoughts I can't put into words. Ah, Varric," he said affectionately. "He always seems to know what I'm feeling and exactly how to turn it into poetry. I can't write for shit." He laughed. Fenris smiled in amusement.
"I know the feeling," he said.
"So what do you do besides bartending?" Garrett asked, taking a drink of what Fenris thought was a rather odd drink: vodka, ginger root, ginger ale, and cucumber, but apparently it was good.
"This is my profession," Fenris said, gesturing to the bottles of alcohol on the wall. He suddenly blushed as he sheepishly added, "I like to dance, though."
"Then maybe you should dance with me, sometime," Garrett said, a gleam in his eyes.
Fenris looked taken aback at the suggestion, then blushed, remembering the conversation he'd had with Bethany before the band played. "Perhaps," Fenris finally said, unable to meet Garrett's eyes.
"Aww, Garrett, don't embarrass him!" Bethany had sidled up beside her older brother, chuckling at Fenris' red face. She leaned into Garrett and whispered something that caused him to grin and give her a knowing look.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to," Garrett said, and Fenris shrugged.
"I don't mind," he said, pouring himself another glass of the wine he'd had earlier. Before he could lift it to his mouth, Garrett snatched the glass from his hand and took a sip. "I do, however, mind that," Fenris said, reaching to retrieve the glass. "Buy your own." Garrett chuckled and handed him the glass.
"Too expensive," he said simply. As Fenris took a drink, he smirked and said, "We just indirectly made out, you know." Fenris began to cough, choking on the wine that was in his throat. After a moment, he took a deep breath and stopped coughing, his face red from both choking and from embarrassment. His eyes wide, he looked at Garrett with no idea how to respond. He never thought he'd be so grateful to hear Isabela call his name and order another drink, her arm slung around Merrill's shoulders.
"So you and Hawke, hmmm?" she pressed, grinning like a cat.
"Oooh, are you dating him?" Merrill asked, an excited smile on her face.
"Who, Garrett? No, I'm not," Fenris said slowly.
"But you want to be, right? You want him to bend you over this bar," Isabela purred, delighting in how red Fenris' entire face, neck, and ears became. "You definitely want to ride that."
"But what would he be riding?" Merrill asked, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Hawke's not a horse, is he?"
"Oh Kitten," Isabela said affectionately, kissing her nose, "I'll teach you when we get home." Fenris raised his eyebrows, still blushing, and walked back to his glass of wine. Corff had apparently given Garrett a tequila shot while he was serving Isabela.
"You should probably wait until after you're finished performing to drink any more," Fenris suggested pointedly.
"I can hold my liquor, thank you very much," Garrett said with a grin. "But we should get performing again. I'll be back. Don't go home with any other strange men, beautiful." With a wink, Garrett stood and headed back to the stage. Fenris called Bethany over.
"Does Garrett flirt with everyone like this?" he asked, a little bewildered by how forward Garrett was.
"No, there's only one other person he's ever flirted with like that. Guy named Anders. Don't ask him about it though. They were together for 3 years before Anders left him to get married to some rich bitch," Bethany said, contempt for the man clear in her voice. "That was 2 years ago, though. He's been kind of withdrawn ever since, and he doesn't flirt with people much. He's got good reason, though." She sighed sadly, looking at Garrett with a rueful smile.
"Wow, that's… horrible," Fenris said softly.
"Yeah. They lived together, too, in this studio apartment. Anders used to paint all the time, the walls, canvas, anything he could get his hands on. When he left, Garrett destroyed the apartment in hurt rage, ripping up his paintings, scraping the paint off the walls… I can't believe he still lives there. It reminds him of the betrayal every day, I just know it," she said. "He's needed someone like you to come and erase the memories for him."
"I…" Fenris began, looking to the stage with a new perspective at the man at the microphone. "Perhaps, if he really is interested, something may come of it. I won't deny I'm attracted to him, though I doubt I'm what he needs."
"Hello again," Garrett said from the stage, grinning. "This time, we'll be playing original songs and original songs only, written by our absentee songwriter, Varric Tethras, the man who can take what I spew out and turn it into poetry." A ripple of laughter made its way through the bar. "This first song is called Twelve A.M." Fenris saw Bethany sigh.
"This song was written about a month after Anders left him. He was so depressed. Aveline had to stay with him for days on end to make sure he ate and slept and didn't kill himself," Bethany choked out. Fenris could already feel the emotion in the haunting keyboard introduction.
It's twelve a.m.
The clock ticks the seconds away
Another moment lost
In my miserable mind
It's twelve a.m.
I've felt this all before
Every night it haunt me
The hands of my internal clock ticking
Winding my heartstrings tighter
How long until they break?
Fenris felt his chest tightening at the raw emotion in both the words, and in Garrett's voice. He felt the pain, and suddenly knew that he wanted to make Garrett write about something other than that pain. As the song went on, he remembered the situation with his own father. He realized he knew what Garrett was singing about; he had felt it himself.
It's twelve a.m.
I chime with an inaudible pain
Which I vomit onto paper
Expelling from myself
That which always finds a way
To return
To eat my soul away
It's twelve a.m.
When will the clock stop ticking
Stuck at this damned time
Stuck in hours of darkness?
I wait for the hours to run their course
For this ephemeral life to end
It's twelve a.m.
And there is silence.
The song ended with pure, unaccompanied voice, and Fenris felt something inside him break. He sank to his knees behind the bar and buried his face in his hands, his body wracked with sobs. For the first time, he was crying, hit to the core by Garrett's words and the chilling emotion of the music. He didn't notice Corff walk up until he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Fenris, you should take a break. Go clean yourself up and get some air, okay? I can handle it," Corff said softly, and Fenris nodded, tears still streaming from his eyes. He quickly made his way to the bathroom, not noticing Garrett's gaze following him.
Gripping the edges of the sink, Fenris took a deep, shuddering breath. He looked up into the cracking mirror and looked at his red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes, at the white hair that hung in his face, at his deformed ears, and at the start of the tattoo. With a growl, he turned and beat the flat of his hand against the wall, leaning his forehead against the white concrete. Every time he looked in the mirror, he was reminded of what his father had done, beyond the physical. Damn the bastard who had taken every chance he had at a normal life.
Sighing, Fenris turned the faucet on and splashed cold water onto his face, leaning over the sink and just holding his face in his hands for a moment. He straightened and turned to tear off a paper towel. He started when he saw Garrett standing just inside the door; he hadn't heard it open.
"Shouldn't you be out there performing?" Fenris asked, cursing the fact that his voice was shaking.
"I always give Isabela a set. She's performing four songs now," he said. Fenris snorted.
"That seems awfully convenient," he muttered.
"Okay, fine, I saw you walk out and asked if she'd do her set now rather than after another few songs," Garrett admitted. He approached Fenris. "Are you okay?" His voice was soft and concerned.
"Bethany told me what the song was about," Fenris said, dodging the question. He wasn't sure of the answer, truthfully. "More accurately, who."
"Oh." Garrett looked down, sighing heavily. "I… it was a hard time."
"I gathered that."
"Really, though, are you okay?" Garrett asked, anxious to get away from the direction the conversation had headed. With a frustrated sigh, Fenris glared at Garrett.
"No, I'm not. I have never cried in my life until now and it's because of someone I just met. Because I realized I understand that pain you sang about, because I had an alcoholic father who left me to fend for myself and my sister and to protect her from his drunken desires by taking her place!" Fenris found himself essentially vomiting words with little control over them in his sudden anger. "He used to beat me and make me sleep with him and then leave the house until the next night, when it would repeat itself. He gave me these tattoos when I was fifteen, fifteen, and I didn't want them! I screamed the whole time and he just left me in pain, and I was forced to simply wait every night, listening to the clock chime every hour, just to make sure he didn't hurt my sister! I never cried through any of that, but you, you reach inside me and twist the shield I had built so carefully and make me break down and remember everything he did!" With a choked sob, Fenris violently turned and kicked one of the stall doors, breaking it off its hinges. "I don't know why, but you have made me remember the things I never wanted to," he snarled, his fingers itching to throw something with all of his strength. "Why? Why did you have to show up?"
"I'm… I'm sorry," Garrett said softly, hesitantly reaching out and touching Fenris' forearm. He jerked away from the touch.
"I've told you far too much," Fenris said, sinking to his knees. "I worked so hard to forget, but you make it far too easy to remember." Garrett knelt in front of him.
"People who share pain are drawn to each other. Maybe if you tried your hand at poetry or something it would help? I sing about it," he suggested. To his shock, Fenris moved forward and took his hand.
"How many times did you want to take your own life in your hands?" Fenris asked quietly. He wasn't really expecting an answer; it was a very personal question for someone he had only met earlier that day (even if he had basically yelled his life story at him).
"Almost every day for a year," Garrett finally whispered. "It was the worst pain I had ever felt. I wanted to forget, until Bethany and Aveline made me realize that it was a time to make myself stronger, not to break myself into even smaller pieces. I needed to really remember everything first, though. It was the first step to making myself into a better person."
"You've been through such heartbreak, but you still can laugh at yourself and act as if it never happened," Fenris mused, to which Garrett shook his head.
"I don't pretend it never happened. I turned it into something that proves I am strong," Garrett explained, gently rubbing his thumb along the back of Fenris' hand.
"Is it really that simple, though? What if he were to come back? How would you react?" Fenris asked, struggling to see the benefit of letting himself remember.
"I don't know, Fenris. I'd probably punch him for everything he did. I loved him for a while after he left, then I discovered some things and I just couldn't bring myself to love him anymore. Maybe that means I never really did," he said, getting to his feet and pulling Fenris up. He pulled the slender man into a tight embrace. Fenris was too surprised to shy away from the contact.
"It will never get easier to deal with. What will happen, though, is that you'll find it's less painful over time, as you let yourself remember and see how it turned you into who you are," Garrett whispered, just holding Fenris for a moment before he stepped back. "I should go back out there now. I'll talk to you again after we're done, all right?" Fenris nodded mutely.
After Garrett left, Fenris ran his hands through his hair in frustration. Garrett just seemed to make him want to talk, perhaps because he felt he would understand. Perhaps it was because he hadn't made fun of Fenris, but had instead wanted to become friends with him. Or perhaps it was because he had never been interested in anyone who wanted to hear what he had gone through. It was liberating, to simply let it all out, but also alarming that he hadn't been able to control it. With a sigh, he turned towards the door and went back to his place at the bar.
The band finished out their show and the patrons who had just come for the music began to trickle out, leaving the bar much easier to navigate. Bethany came and sat in front of Fenris again as the band members carried equipment out.
"I saw you leave during the first song. Everything all right?" she asked, gently putting a hand on his arm.
"I think so. I got some… enlightening advice from Garrett," he said. "And accidentally told him everything when he asked if I was okay a second time." He knew Corff had confided most of what Fenris had told him in Bethany. It was a lot to know about a person, and Corff had wanted to get some of it off his chest. After meeting Bethany several times, he finally gave his employer his permission to tell her. To his relief, she had never brought the topic up, and it was nice to have another person to talk to, one who was a little wiser about emotion than Corff was.
"Oh, Fenris… Are you okay with that?" she asked, her eyes full of concern. "He would never tell anyone, but I'm sure you still think he's too unfamiliar."
"I think I am okay with it, actually. He didn't try to push the topic, nor did he suddenly treat me like an invalid," Fenris admitted. "Maybe I wanted someone who would be able to relate to me to know." Bethany smiled.
"I personally think you should get to know him. I'd like to see both of you happy." Her eyes twinkled as she smiled. "I feel like you would complement each other well."
"I wouldn't mind getting to know him," he said, his cheeks tinged pink. "I've never really liked anyone I had a chance with. This is weird, honestly." He laughed, and Bethany patted Fenris' arm before withdrawing the hand she had forgotten was on his arm.
"Hey there, bartender, how about a stiff one?" Fenris turned to see Isabela waggling her eyebrows at him, leaning over the bar. He rolled his eyes and walked over to her. "How about Hawke's stiff one?" She grinned at his blush.
"How about you actually tell me what you want to drink?" he shot back, raising his eyebrows.
"Oooh, getting a little worked up, are we?" She smirked and rested her chin on her hand. "I'll take a sex on the beach, doll face." Fenris snorted.
"I should have known. It would have been either that or a slippery nipple," Fenris muttered, turning to mix it for her. Bracing himself for whatever comments she would throw at him, Fenris handed Isabela her drink.
"I just knew you'd give me sex on the beach," she purred. Fenris smirked as Merrill gently swatted Isabela on the back of the head, having just walked up.
"Bela, it would be nice if you didn't flirt with him," she said in a way that made Fenris wonder if there was anyone that disliked her.
"Sorry Kitten," Isabela replied, offering her glass to her girlfriend. Fenris shook his head and made his way to Aveline and Donnic, who were waving him down.
"Where does your sound board go?" Donnic asked.
"Hold on, I'll be right around to help move it," he said, wiping his hands on his pants. He made his way to the table with the board and started to lift one end.
"We'll carry it, you just show us where to go," Aveline said with a smile. She and Donnic easily lifted the table and followed Fenris back to the storage room. They got it settled and Fenris was closing the door when he heard screams and cheers coming from the bar.
"Oh lord, did Garrett get a Flaming Doctor Pepper again?" Donnic asked, and Fenris stared.
"I've only made that once," Fenris said. "Does he get those often?"
"Unfortunately. He gets drunk easily off of those, too," Aveline said, rolling her eyes. "He thinks he can handle his liquor, but even his sister has him beat there."
"She can handle almost anything, though. I was amazed when she went through as much as she did the night she met Corff," Fenris laughed. He resumed his place behind the bar, turning to Corff. "Did he get a Flaming Doctor Pepper?" Corff nodded, smirking.
"Feeeenriiiis," Garrett called, a pout on his face. "My glass is empty." Fenris raised an eyebrow. Was he really this much of a lightweight?
"And is there something you'd like me to do about that?" Fenris asked, earning a snicker from Isabela and a whine from Garrett. If he wasn't drunk, he was getting there fast.
"Make me a B-52 Gunship, pretty please?" Garrett asked.
"You want absinthe? Are you sure you can handle it?" Fenris raised his eyebrows and Garrett nodded enthusiastically. With a shake of his head, Fenris carefully built the drink, handing to his intoxicated new friend. He downed it quickly and slammed the glass on the bar.
"Don't break the glass or you pay for it," Fenris said threateningly. With a laugh, Garrett leaned over the bar.
"Can I choose how I pay?" he asked, and Fenris turned to face him.
"What?" he said, bemused. With a grin, Garrett grabbed the front of Fenris' tank top and pulled him close.
"Like this," he whispered and pressed his lips to Fenris'. Fenris froze for a moment before pushing Garrett off him, and stumbling backwards and nearly falling.
"You're drunk right now. Don't touch me," Fenris hissed, approaching Garrett and reversing the positions they had been in. His face inches from Garrett's, he was seething. "If you touch me again, you are no better than the abusive father I dealt with. Do. Not. Touch. Me. Without. My. Permission." With an angry growl, Fenris pushed Garrett back, turning away and walking to the other end of the bar.
"I wouldn't try to talk to him again until you're sober," Corff recommended, denying Garrett his next drink. "Come back tomorrow night and apologize." With a sigh, Garrett nodded and left the bar, his younger brother ready to drive him home. Getting to know him was going to take a while.