u/Spare-Chef-778 — reddlx

(Just a quick TLDR up top — this is the first story I've ever posted. Let me know if you're interested in more or have any feedback! I've been a part of the community since the beginning, so it'd be nice to hear what you guys think.)

I stared into my own eyes, already knowing how this was going to go.

It settled in my chest like something stale you leave in the fridge too long and keep telling yourself you’ll throw out later. Something I’d felt before and never really shaken.

It was always the same.

Different bars. Different faces. Different names, I barely bothered to keep straight.

And somehow it all blurred together anyway, like one long night that never ended and just kept changing clothes.

My eyes drifted up to the little window above the stall.

Same thought again.

It always shows up here.

At first, it’s quiet—almost reasonable.

Then it starts getting louder the longer I sit with it.

Maybe this time.

Maybe I could actually do it.

Just slip out. Drop the skin where it stands. Let it fall like an empty jacket and not look back.

Live the way I’m supposed to.

The way MohKani intended.

That thought always feels heavier than it should. Like the last drink you don’t want, but you’re already halfway through it before you can stop yourself.

Warm. Stupid. Familiar.

I let it sit there.

And then, like always, it turned.

I couldn’t live like that.

I was a house cat—fed scraps I didn't earn, kept close enough to forget I wasn’t supposed to be there, stretched out in the warmth like it meant something more than it did.

The bell around my throat was small.

Easy to ignore.

Right up until it wasn’t.

I dipped my hands into the sink and splashed cold water over my face. It snapped something back into place.

“Alright,” I muttered. “Back to work.”

I pushed off the basin too fast and clipped someone on the way out.

A scrawny kid—greasy hair, face full of acne—stumbled back.

“Sorry, sir, I didn’t—”

I hit him.

Not hard. Just enough to stop the words.

He blinked like he didn’t understand what just happened.

I stepped in close.

“What the hell was that out there?” I said.

He backed into a stall door.

"Look, I'm sorry, maybe she didn't kno—"

I was already on him.

Fingers under his chin.

I let out a slow breath through my nose.

“We don’t work off fucking maybes,” I said. “That’s how you end up in a dumpster behind a place like this.”

I shoved him back into the wall and let go.

Sat on the edge of the sink like it was just another day.

"Alright," I said, rubbing my face. "Let's get this straight.

"You're my younger brother. We’re from Cleveland. Dad was—”

“—A drunk cop,” Jeb cut in right away. “Beat on Mom and us until she took us to Aunt Robin’s?”

I looked at him for a second.

Too fast. Too certain.

“No,” I said. “Dad was unemployed. Mom died early.”

I dropped my hands.

“Stay out of it. I’ll take it from here.”

I walked past him and opened the door, then paused.

“I like the suit,” I said without turning around. “Stripes fit you.”

And I was gone.

The bar hit me like heat.

Loud. Crowded. Alive.

I let my shoulders drop.

Not relaxation.

Just… adjustment.

I moved through the bodies like it wasn’t an effort—slipping through gaps that only showed up after I was already past them. Close enough to brush someone’s shoulder, close enough to take two glasses off a passing tray without breaking stride.

I took a sip just as two guys stumbled into each other mid-fight, ducking the swing without even looking.

Whiskey sour.

I made a face.

“…What is this, prom?”

I shook my head and got back to it, scanning the room for the target—tall redhead, boss called her “high priority.”

Then everything went dark.

A smell hit me right after. Perfume. Too much of it. Something floral trying way too hard to matter.

“Guess whoooo,” a slurred voice breathed into my ear.

Right. Her.

I didn’t move right away.

People always think they’re subtle when they’re standing that close.

I let a second pass, just enough to make it feel like I was considering it. Then I put on a smile. Not my biggest one. Just enough. “There you are,” I said. “Been looking all over. You mind telling me who turned out the lights?”

This was going to be a very long night.