Interchange

Spade read the text over and over again, before flat out throwing his phone. He poured another glass of whiskey, and drank. Three empty fifths were stacked haphazardly against the table already. Alcohol may not have the same effects it did on humans, but it made him feel better. He’d have one hell of a hangover later, sure, but right now he was down with not feeling anything.

Deceit had lied to him, the entire time- kept something so serious from him, for no reason. He wasn’t over it. And now? There she was, all buddy-buddy with Hell’s number one bad boy on the circuit. Absolutely classy, and a hell of a reason for him to top off his glass again.

She wasn’t his. He did not have feelings for her. Spade emptied the glass, and filled it again. He wasn’t so much angry, anymore, but hurt. Most so because this thing between them- this petty little argument- was stupid. He shouldn’t have gotten angry, and he knew it. She had only been protecting herself from him, from the law he banked so much in, from potentially getting killed.

Spade had killed for much less, for any and all damning the rules he lived by. The same rules that built the laws he was paid to enforce. Deceit had watched him. He didn’t blame her, not anymore.

His doorbell rang, and he poured another drink. Downing it, he filled the glass again, watching the amber liquid slosh against the side of the glass, and took it with him when the bell rang a second time. Spade set it on the hall table and punched in his security code, unbolting the lock. He yanked the door open, ready to take his frustrations out on whoever was dumb enough to ring doorbells at this hour. He wasn’t ready for it.

Deceit stood on his doorstep, or rather, leaned against the adjoining wall. She was a complete wreck, with her clothes in shambles. She was trembling, drenched, with her eyes fixed to the other end of the corridor. He didn’t even think she had registered the fact that he’d opened the door. Deceit was too busy staring at fleabags crowding up the staircase.

That was never a good sign, he decided. Spade did what any idiot would have done- he grabbed the only girl in the world that he would allow to break him to pieces by the wrist and pulled her inside. He ignored the stinging of nails digging into his shoulder upon her colliding with his chest, and instead held her tight as he fixed the locks.

“Just breathe,” He breathed once the lock clicked into place. “It’s just me.” She stilled, and he took the chance to rearm the security system. The system beeped before another force began to abuse the door. Lewd comments mixed with aggressive threats, and Deceit begun to shudder. Spade quickly drew conclusions from her reactions and state of dress, and directed her towards the bathroom.

“...I didn’t know where to go...” She whispered as he bid her to sit down on the toilet lid. Under the harsh, artificial light, he could see more details than before. She wasn’t just covered in mud, blood, and shredded clothing. Her natural olive-tone was marred with darker spots- bruising, in various states of appearance. He left her there for a moment, and returned with a mug of hot cocoa for her, and his own forgotten glass.

“You look like you could use something warm.” He pushed the mug into her hand, only letting go when he was sure that she wouldn’t drop it. Spade then began the tedious process of separating skin from cloth. Most of the blood had dried, clotting with fabric. Even the slightest tugs to the bits of cloth wound up bleeding anew. He played this game for hours, trying his best to keep from hurting her. Once everything was carefully cleaned and bandaged, he dug out an old turtleneck, and gave it to her to wear.

Deceit never took so much as a sip of the hot chocolate, but her knuckles had begun to turn white by the end of Spade’s prodding. He didn’t ask, instead taking a hand towel to her hair in an attempt to dry it. He gave up once it stopped dripping, and took a seat on the floor. He waited.

“Thank you.” It was nearly inaudible, save for the scratchy sound that escaped her throat right after. Spade had nearly fallen asleep, just waiting for her to say something- anything. He could hear the faint sounds of his phone going off, wherever it had landed in the living room. It took him a few moments to realize the ringing was his eight o’clock alarm.

Spade stood up, working out the tension in his shoulders, before ruffling her hair. He slipped out of the tiny bathroom, and fished his phone out from under the bookcase. After firing off a quick text to Merci, letting her know that Deceit was with him and safe, he spied the empty bottles behind the couch. She didn’t need to know, he decided, and quickly shoved them into the kitchen garbage can. Only then did he pop his head back into the bathroom.

“When’s the last time you ate?”