Two sets of horns beneath the black and decorated with skull and crossbones and hashtag pins newsboy cap, one pair short, thumb length, stubby yet sharp, the pointed straight shape of an animal tooth, the larger pair man's hand length and curled, scarred and brittle, chipped ram's horns, pale bone grey.
Solomon's demon horns that arose through his human skin.
Beard fuzz brushed against his arm, made his words shake, his mouth and body tremor, hand managed to be calm, stroking the brown hair under it, Drew's smile, soothed and kind, almost in his lap.
' Feeling trapped because you'd rather not commit betrayal?'
'Not quite.' Drew said, drowsy, watching from the pile of mattresses indoors, watching Chaos hop and peck around on his wall mounted wooden perch, watching Anarchy doing its ratty best to rearrange the carpeting. 'I don't feel bad with them. I love them.'
'But you need more than the life they give you.'
'Exactly. I want to battle. I NEED to be aggressive and fight, Jinder, I can't say how he feels, his wants. And Heath, he's a great brother but he only wants to have fun and play. I can't DO that.'
'And you don't leave them as that would hurt them.'
'I'd feel like a traitor, yes.'
'Happy with your friends but better off without, on your own, solo, a dilemma.'
'Yes.'
'The one that Changed you has no use for you.'
'He will once he sees me with another.' Drew rolled slightly, chin balanced on Solomon's knees. 'Justin is impossible to understand. He wants me, doesn't want me. Turns me Were, says he truly loves me, we break up and get back together, break up AGAIN more times than I've breathed and he had our child only to toss her aside, forget her and move on. Like she meant nothing to him.'
'I can't erase those things from your memory and hard drive.' Solomon kept stroking the hair. 'No more than I can change my past, even the recent. But I'll stick by your side, unlike Justin.'
'He DID care...for awhile.'
'So did Dean. That makes us alike in such ways, both betrayed and abandoned so the pretty ones can replace us.' Solomon leaned over. 'Not that you're ugly.'
'Neither are you. And you can control animals.'
"Not control, merely talk with them, understand them.'
'Demonic Doolittle.'
'Possibly. How's the gear?'
'I'm having new ring attire made. Those pants are goners.'
'Attacked by wild pigs. I had nothing to do with that.'
'I doubted you did. They barely charged me, but they DID knock Langston around like a pinball.'
'His punishment for harming your eye.' Solomon beamed.
'Hmmm, and you're SURE you weren't behind it?'
'Honest and true. New pants then?'
'I'll go old school and revert to trunk religion. Perhaps Orange Leader might get the hint.'
'Trunks only?! I enjoy the mental image.'
'Well that and the usual padding, knee and whatnot. I'm afraid I'll seem dull. But fight isn't about the flash, but the bruises after.'
' You're not at all boring though may I suggest a fashionable fitting accessory?'
'If you want.'
Smooth and tough, hard and comfortable, black leather jacket over his shoulders.
'Yours? I won't rob you of it.'
'Take it please, one day it can be your best memory of me.' S smiled, overjoyed and overwhelmed. Dean had found his new S with Colby, now Sami had his new D, less violent, different and exciting to get used to, to get to know and speak of the love they had, protective of their fathers, the giddy drunken glee they felt in the ring or lay quiet and speak not at all. it would remain a secret, him giving away one of Dean's left behind jackets to his new lover.
'My best memory of you, the great thought IS you, more than any clothing.'
'But keep it anyway?'
'I shall, I will. It suits me well. You do too.'
'That's one on my wish list. Unless Tyler offered better.'
'Tyler isn't for me. I can't get used to his lifestyle, the constant caviar, luxury shopping for dog clothing, selfies during sex...'
'I could be for you, if you'd like.'
'You're already mine.'
Solomon blushed into binary code scrolling over pink cheeks, white and green numbers from scalp to toes, even in his teeth, his bones, his aura.
He loved his replacement D as much as he'd ever adored and worshiped the original.
His diamond in the trash.
Cody stood turning into a snowman each minute, standing envious and scowling, his face knotted into a child's having a tantrum, jealous and furious while the oversized vehicle shook behind him.
Every gasp and moan and grunt had him jumping, glaring, grinding his jaw, wishing he was someone private to beat off hard while thinking about Teddy.
Ted.
And Wade.
Cody snarled and cursed under his breath at the continued panting. He was the one who should be in the backseat being pummeled and plowed.
Anger heated his cold skin, standing in the mostly empty arena lot, flakes chilling him, giving his hair snow-dandruff.
He glared more, knowing they were doing this to rub it in his face, to prove a point.
He SHOULD have thought more about his spouse, his Ted who loved him, not Wade who'd laid him and played him, precise exact definition of a one night stand.
Or better yet, a fling. Flung aside, in the trash like a used tissue.
Cody hissed at the moaning, waited, froze.
Didn't thaw.
The camera crew FINALLY showing up after lunch and a flat tire mishap saved Cody's ass and pulled Wade unwillingly out of Heath's.
Annoying brat was grinning, beet red face and new purple hickey decoration like a neck tattoo and stupid cowboy hat, not to mention walking with a wobbly limp and pleased grin , all which made Cody fume.
It was the remembering the camera crew taping this comedy backstage segment watching him, right there with him that kept Cody from strangling the twit.
He had came close, his hands had been at the throat, squeezed a tad, he had a flashback of Derrick, winced and moved aside, never once missing or stumbling over his lines.
Cody knew his brother was just outside the closed door, one he could trust to be on his side, one who cared.
And also at the door, behind it, one who didn't, one he thought of guiltily more often than Ted, one tall and tough and enticing, wearing a new shiny gold and stone pendant, early Valentine gift, gold anchor with a leaping blue opal dolphin on a gold chain, given happily along with a million kisses, one huge embrace and hours of intense backseat boning.
Useless stupid undeserving Ginger. Cody fumed, still barely melting.
He began to understand why Derrick had gone mad.
Understand and sympathize as his sanity decreased and his jealousy did opposite.
The two boars had destroyed a snazzy pair of leather pants and gave E some interesting wounds, all in a few days work.
Now they had attacked a gliding to the ground man in a wingsuit, shredded the cloth along with the flesh below, to bloody bits.
Justin had stayed in hiding, hair now in multiple tiny dreads, his face painted between his eyes from hairline to facial hairline, forehead, down the nose, halted at mustache, with silver glittery tribal designs.
War paint.
A new man with a new life.
He checked online, the news, emails, texts and other messaging, frowned when nothing was mentioned.
Before dawn one small item caught his eye.
It didn't please him.
He'd died and not any friend of his had noticed.
Nobody, friend or foe cared.
Justin was a ghost, a memory, dead.
Non existent.
