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The cafe wasn’t the highest of quality, the front bearing dilapidated wooden benches and iron-barred windows. A few people lingered inside away from the uncharacteristically muggy outside air, the warm scent of drip coffee wafting outside every time the door opened. People passed closely to the benches, jostling occasionally against the legs of those seated. A scene taking place in many such places across the bustling city, mundane in every sense of the term.
In the sea of suits rushing to work, the man sitting on the bench would not have stood out in the slightest if not for his split-dyed hairstyle. His monochromatic dress wear was precisely ironed, creasing only where his body bent and bearing no spots on the dark gray fabric. The coffee was the cheapest, strongest, bitterest variety he could find, though he sipped it with no hesitation.
Abolish allowed the cup to rest against his knee when his phone began to ring, pausing his focused scanning of the passerby to fumble for the device in his pocket. However, just as he drew it from his pocket, someone rammed particularly aggressively into his knee, splashing still-hot coffee against his clothing. They stopped, perfectly shined shoes clicking to a halt and pivoting toward the man,
“Oh, sorry about that. Fancy meeting you here,” a familiar voice drawled, unhurried in a way that spoke of centuries of unrestricted life to come. Abolish’s heart dropped, and he quickly put his phone back away. Whoever it was would have to wait until the immediate adversary in front of him had moved on his merry way. Setting the now mostly empty cup to the side, he looked up at the man, meeting cold red eyes with his own in what he hoped to be an indifferent expression,
“I come here every day Scott. We both know this,” he replied coldly, already withdrawing a napkin from his pocket and dabbing at the splatters against his shirt, dark and permanent like bloodstains. An elegant hand reached for the napkin, as if the man intended to dab at the stains for him, like he were a child unable to clean up after himself rather than the assassin sent to catalogue his every behavior. Immediately Abolish slapped it away,
“What are you doing?” he asked, fighting to keep anything from seeping into his voice. He knew what Scott was doing here–had almost started going to a different coffee shop because of it. It would be no use though, no matter where he went he was sure the man would be able to track him down and taunt him, egging him toward actions that could have repercussions other than paperwork.
“Saying hi to my favorite superspy as always,” Scott replied with a bright smile that revealed his perfectly shiny fangs for a fraction of a second before drawing back to his full height and adjusting his wide-brimmed hat, “though I seem to have spilled your drink. What a shame.”
“It’s fine, I needed to get going anyway,” he muttered, grabbing his trash and standing quickly. Unfortunately Scott didn’t step back, leaving their shoes almost touching and their chests practically pressed together. If not for the vampire being significantly taller, they would have been face to face as well. The smug expression remained on his face as he looked down his nose at Abolish, fangs glinting as he spoke,
“Are you sure?” The cup was plucked from his hand delicately, pinched between his forefinger and thumb as if coming into contact with the item disgusted him, “What about your coffee, hm?”
“I said I have to go. Now move,” Abolish growled, losing his patience and shoving past the vampire. He set a brisk pace down the street, dodging between people as he beelined for his apartment. Pushing down the feeling of being prey scurrying back to a burrow that would ultimately do nothing to protect him from the thing that pursued him.
His apartment was hardly a few blocks away, but the overwhelming fear sitting inside him made the sidewalk seem to stretch on much longer. With each bump of a passerby he expected a clawed hand to dig into his shoulder, pulling him face to face with the sneering man who he could never seem to catch a break from. Crowds had always made him nervous, and the additional anxiety was like a knife twisting in his gut, urging him to move faster.
Finally, finally Abolish made it back home. Tapping his entry card with a shaky hand and shoving quickly into the lobby, slamming the door behind him. He didn’t look back as he strode towards the elevator, unsure of whether or not he wanted to see Scott on the other side of the dirt-smudged glass.
The rest of the process was mechanical more than anything else, Abolish ascending in an otherwise empty elevator and walking to his apartment quietly. He opened the door efficiently, stepping inside and quickly slipping off his shoes and jacket, which had been uncomfortably warm for the day. Sweat stuck his shirt to his skin, clinging to his body in an almost suffocating manner that only contributed to his barely controlled panic. Trembling fingers fumbled at the buttons, shucking off the shirt and leaving it crumpled next to his shoes.
He didn’t look down, didn’t want to see the scars that snaked across his torso like rivers, some wide and jagged while others were just faint silver lines. Remnants of battles he’d been praised for, back before the organization had deemed him the best fit for his backwater role despite his undeniable skill. Especially didn’t want to see the more orderly ones on his arms from when he’d-
Nope. Stop thinking about it. It was growing hard to breathe, and he couldn’t deal with that right now. Freaking out would leave him exhausted and unfocused. He needed to get a hold of himself before that happened, needed to get used to Scott’s taunts already. It happened almost every day at this point, and he wasn’t a child whose toy had been stolen on the playground. He was over 200 years old, he could handle a few hostile actions.
As if seeing through tv static Abolish walked over to his couch, slumping to the floor next to it so he could lean against the plush surface. He pushed Scott from his mind, devoting the entirety of his focus to the sensation of his fingers tracing up and down the ridges and divots of his arms. His breathing was erratic, and he could feel his heart pounding behind his ribs in an equally unsteady pattern.
Breathe in. One two three.
Hold. One two three.
Out. One two three.
Each command he gave himself was accompanied by a laborious breath, the effort of controlling this feeling tremendous at it rattled and screamed inside him. The world blurred as he fought back tears, though a few escaped his furious blinking and ran warmly down his cheeks, matching the sticky feeling of sweat on his skin.
After a few long, agonizing minutes of internal struggle, the feeling finally began to recede. It still lingered, as it always did, but at least he hadn’t fully given himself over to the ghosts that flitted through his worst memories this time. With a deep sigh, Abolish slumped back against the couch, hands finally falling away from his arms to rest limply on his stomach. He was hungry, but anything he ate right now would surely bear the nauseating taste of ash and little else.
God, Abolish wished he didn’t have to do this himself. He knew what to do, of course, after so long spent on his own. But still, the small weak part of him cried for someone to hold his hands through this feeling, to remind him how to breathe when he forgot, and to make him something to eat when he lacked the energy to do so himself. Something to show up for other than the neverending loop of paperwork and chance encounters with hostile vampires that dragged at his limbs as he got up more and more every day. Abolish was just so tired, he didn’t know how much longer he could take this neverending loneliness.
But it was a stupid wish, one that would never come true. He had to keep going, there was no other good option.
He pushed himself to his feet, harshly wiping the slightly pink tear tracks off his face and picking his shirt up off the floor. It would be both wrinkled and coffee-stained now but he didn’t have the energy to re-iron it, or to grab a new one from his bedroom. He put it back on, accompanied by his nauseatingly heavy suit jacket which he buttoned tightly to cover the worst of the stains.
Abolish didn’t have more time to waste on whatever it was that was so wrong with him. He had work to do, regardless of how it may affect his emotions, and that was that. He was a machine first, a person second. It’d been that way for nearly a century, and would go on for as long as it needed to, no matter what the selfish part of him wished for.