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The way the night sat above Flambae at the late hours of the end of his shift was something that never failed to capture his attention. The smoky, hazy and veil like patterns of the imponent clouds had such an incredible contrast with the clear pitch-black sky, moving at a slow pace with the stars. He saw those atmospheric and astronomic beings just like a representation of himself, smoky and ignited. The front of the SDN building was a terrible view for him earlier the day, but being there at the end of it was a calming moment in the constant fervor of Flambae’s life.
Normally, his routine was always the same. Arrive at work not late enough to get fired, but in the perfect timing to be the first annoyance of Robert’s day, do his shit incredibly better than his co-workers (except for Alice, the only one on his level), put on a little fight with someone and then finish the day knowing that he was going to earn this peaceful and silent moment that only him had guaranteed for being the last one to go to home. At least, that was what he thought. Standing a few meters from him, a figure locked his sight. The strange thing about the routine he had created for himself is that he never imagined - nor never noticed – that he might somehow not be, or maybe never was, the only person to be the last to leave.
From where he could see, the person looked like a tall, white man, maintaining a terrible posture while also bumping his head to a rhythm scaping through his cheap-like headphones that had a terrible audio isolation, making so the song playing audible to Flambae even from his position. Pondering if he should approach the stranger, he decided to first examinate his appearance, giving him a up and down look. His shoes were a conventional black All Stars, a little dirty and faded from time. His loose-fitting checkered black and grey pants looked like the ones your grandma would gift you on Christmas and his way too tight t-shirt seemed to have a logo on the front, maybe a band one. For Flambae’s taste, this guy was what he typically addressed as a loser. When he finally reached his face, he noticed something that made his brain have a short-cut.
The man was a redhead.
His eye flickered in doubt, his head putting all of his neurons to burn trying to process what he just saw. He squinted and leaned forward, trying to see better. A view like this had to be pretty much impressive and unusual for him to make such effort. Yet, he was still suspicious about it, because the only redhead he recalled that could match this dorky silhouette was a very unique person that Flambae personally had a headache every time he saw, and that person was Waterboy. The wet, weird and miserable Waterboy. If he was going to be honest, the idea of him being an emo wasn’t really that unexpected. With a rapid glance to the floor, and squeaking his eyes a little bit more, Flambae confirmed his suspicions by seeing the pool of water soaking under the man’s feet.
It took him a few seconds of debate in his head if talking to this guy was really the best idea. This didn’t last more than thirty seconds, probably, because before he could take consciousness of his movements, his body was already standing well behind Waterboy, which up close was deniably him. Flambae reflected for a short period if he really wanted to do this. Sure, his routine would now have to be adapted to the fact that maybe he wasn’t alone all this time while his ego divagated in the view of the night sky, but establishing contact with the weirdo in front of him may worsen the experience. He is taken of his spiraling of thoughts when he notices how loud the song playing is, apparently some sort of Black Metal scrap and-
When he blinked, Flambae’s heart almost stopped when he noticed that Waterboy was staring deeply right into his face, maybe even piercing his eyes with an expression so incomprehensible and blank that it made Flambae think he was in the presence of an alien for a second. Flambae’s body was tensed, almost paralyzed as his mouth was pressing shut very tightly so he didn’t let out the stunned breath he was trying to hold back into his lungs. Waterboy had his usual anxious look in his intense dark blue eyes – that only now Flambae had the chance to glaze at, since he finally pulled out those goofy goggles of his -, except for something different. He looked… tired. Not only physically, given his exhausted shoulders that are probably begging to be freed of his backpack, but maybe psychologically too. God, he had never seen a person so depressing.
Flambae opens his mouth to speak, only to be cut by the shy and messy voice of Waterboy. – “W-why were you staring at me?” he managed to say, despite clearly being in a huge discomfort. He was leaning against the bus stop sign, nervously straightening himself, while his hands were occupied by something that Flambae didn’t quite dissertated what it was. Looking down, Flambae noticed the band t-shirt was from Black Sabbath, confirming that his co-worker was a metal fan. The t-shirt had clear signs of wear, probably his favorite to be so faded and with the collar being scratched, the wetness making so it was almost glued to the jumpsuit waterboy was obviously wearing under the normal clothes because despite the new look he still was Waterboy after all. Seeing him this way, Flambae could almost say that he didn’t look so weird. Almost. He couldn’t admit that to himself, neither to the guy staring him, so he decided to do what he did best: be mean. – “Uh, maybe cuz yo weird ass was standing here and making it impossible for me to appreciate the nature.” Flambae says as he leans forward, making Waterboy face twitch in desperation from the closure of space. – “Hey, and look at that shirt! Watebitch isn’t just a common freak, he’s a metal freak! – Flambae says as he grabs one side of Waterboy’s headphone and lift it up – “Did you know Lady Gaga has a song that you can sing? It’s that one that goes like ‘I-i-i-i-I I don’t speak german...’”
Waterboy seems to lose all the shame he was feeling when, with a sigh, he whispers in response – “...But i-i c-can if you like.”
Silence. A grand, awkward silence took the air between their body’s as Flambae slowly draw back into his personal space crossing his arms and tilting his head with a face showing both disbelief and approval that could pretty much be read as a “This motherfucker knows some good music after all” look. – “I, uh, I’m sorry for interrupting, its j-just that I, uhm, well…” – Flambae listened patiently, now a little more interested in hearing what he had to say. – “I happen to have a very expanded taste in music.”. Flambae gave a quiet snort. – “So, what I sould call you now? Metalboy?”
- “Herm. Uhm, i-I mean, like, from Herman. Yeah.” Herman said as he started folding his arms too, though differently from Flambae as his body seemed to search for a way to protect himself of what could possibly be coming out of Flambae’s mouth. Nothing really harsh came. Flambae took his time to speak as his eyes had now to adjust for seeing the man with a normal name that was given not that much hesitatingly. Were they getting casual? No. Flambae refused to get casual with Waterb-. Herman. Maybe saying his name was not that much of a big deal. – “Its Chad.”, he revealed with an apprehensive gaze. – “Yeah, C-Chad, heh. It’s a- it’s a cool name, dude.” Herman spoke, seemingly not confident of his speech, with hesitant eyes and lips being bitten by a sharp tooth. Then something caught Chad’s attention more than the urge to say an unpleasant commentary again.
Now that Herman had his arms in front of his chest and his hands were not so hidden anymore, the object that he was holding revealed itself. And it was a pack of cigarettes. Chad tried to lie telling his interior self that he did not care about what the other was doing to himself and that it was a completely normal habit that he also shared. He couldn’t. Just the sight of this object in Herman’s hold made Chad’s head buzz in discomfort, his lips twitching nervously to fight the urge to hit a nerve and before he could think, he was already mouthing it out. – “You smoke?”. The words were spit unpretentiously, almost as if he were talking to himself, so softly it came. Immediately, regret overwhelmed Chad when he saw Herman's eyes widen in despair, his hands reaching behind his back in an attempt to hide the cigarettes, but it was too late. In fact, Chad was pretty much curious to know the motivations of the younger man to do such thing, despite saying it like that not being exactly in his plans. Who care, anyways.
– “I-i-, uhm, y-yeah! I mean, n-no! No! Its j-just, you know, I keep it in case…” Despite facing down, Chad could see in his blushed ears and face that the shame of the discovery of a secret had taken over Herman. A cold breeze swept past them, making Herman shiver at the contact of the wind on his soaked skin and reminding Chad of where they were. This made him think that the boy endured this cold every day, since he wasn't practically a living furnace to protect himself, and that he stayed here alone (at least, that's what they thought). Not yet satisfied with the answer, Chad decided to dig further. – “In case of what, Metalboy?” He spoke, searching for the eyes of the one in front of him imposing such a penetrating gaze that the other cannot ignore it, forcing Herman to reciprocate the gaze.
– “Ah. F-fuck it, I’ll tell you the truth. Before I gained my powers, w-which was a long time ago, I used to smoke to deal with my anxiety. R-Robert says that I don’t really have stuttering, it’s just because of my lack of confidence and anxiousness.” – he pauses for a moment, silence weighing on their shoulders. – “I think he is right. Since I j-joined the team, everyone has been making fun of my appearance, my stutter, and anything else that you guys could think of”. Chad observed as Herman stared at the cigarette pack with eyes that transpired a mixture of melancholy and resentment, and as strange as it may sound, he felt bad for Herman; after all, he wasn't a monster incapable of empathy, even knowing that he had participated in the teasing. – “It was the o-only relief from my mind that I had, the bad thoughts went away each time I exhaled the smoke. T-Then I got those stupid powers, and the only thing it did was take away my power to do what relieved me. Now I am so useless that I c-can’t even lit up this up, and yet I-i keep it in case someday I can use it again”.
A sudden wind gently ruffled Chad's hair, though it didn't have the same effect on Herman, who was so wet his hair seemed glued to his forehead. The outburst he had just now listened was kind of depressing if you think about it, as the man couldn’t even lit up his own cigarette and he kept them as a memento, because even immersed in addiction, his past self seemed to have more autonomy. Quickly glaring at the night sky, an idea began to float through his mind based on what he had heard. He was made of flames, and the metalhead had difficulty handling fire, so he wondered if he could lend a hand. Now leaning in and gaining Herman’s attention again, he started:
– “So, Herman.” – He began saying, observing as Herman eyelids flickered and tried not to demonstrate his discomfort – “Let’s say I could help you out with your situation now, would’ya mind it?”. Herman took his time considering the offer swallow the smoke one more time since his life had turned upside down with all the hero stuff. When he realized it, he was already opening the pack of cigarettes and putting one in his mouth, just waiting for the flame of the next one. The mere thought of the intoxicating smell of nicotine was enough for Herman to relax his shoulders and lower his gaze. Chad hesitated for a few moments, but helping this poor creature (He couldn’t help his mean side) was the least he could do in retaliation of all the bullying he had done.
After helping with a little spark of flames that came from his index finger, the dark atmosphere between them seemed to dissipate with the silence that once more fell, this time without any embarrassment. Herman responded with a simple 'thank you' that came out as a whisper and could only be heard in the isolated environment where they were. Losing himself slightly in the other's sight, Chad followed with his eyes the movement of inhaling and exhaling, his chest rising and falling, and the expression of anguish evaporating. The smoke spread through the air as if spiraling in circular patterns, camouflaging itself with the movement of the clouds, leaving Chad mesmerized by the man in front of him. However, the noise of screeching wheels and two approaching headlights pulled them from their mental refuge back to reality: it was almost midnight and that had to be the last bus of the night, and also Herman's.
– “Guess it’s time to say goodbye, Smokeboy. See, don't take this as us becoming friends,”, - Chad says as he starts stretching his back – “But if you need a little fire, you know what time to find me.”.
– “Y-yeah, uh, sorry for bothering and t-thank you, again.” - He stopped, something telling Chad that the man still had more to say, so he decided to give him an encouraging look. – “A-also, I would really appreciate if you didn’t share any of this conversation with the others.” Herman managed to say despite being almost certain that his secret would eventually reach someone's ears.
– “Don’t worry, dude. Yo bitch ass is a way more interesting than I expected and your music taste isn’t even that thrash. But you should listen more to Lady Gaga. I bet she has some songs you would like”. The bus arrived. As Chad walked away, a sound in the distance escaped from someone's low-quality headphones making him recognize the song playing and causing a smile to curl up his lips.
“Heavy metal lover, Heavy metal lover…” 🎶