fear

‘then you came to the right place.’ dimitri finalizes, ordering two beers with the bartender he waves over. ‘about a year, so i wouldn’t say i’m the best road map to read.’ he answers, watching hakan closely as he speaks. ‘fun? i don’t know if you can call it all fun.’ it’s an honest enough answer and dimitri isn’t trying to keep any information a secret, after all they’re technically from the same side but he feels more of a connection to the m.c than anybody else. ‘truce has pretty much been kept, until all the shit at the school. guess now it’s a waiting game until there’s a resolve.’ dimitri isn’t stupid, he knows there won’t be a stale mate for long and there will be a reaction. ‘all the kelly ties seem to have their hooks in pretty deep. why’d you get sent over here this time?’

‘i suppose we’d be the same if anybody said something about us.’ he chuckles, knowing the feeling of protectiveness and loyalty so there’s no judgement. even if the jones kids could run riot through the city if they chose to, dimitri knows better than to stop them. besides, it’s an amusing time at boots when they show up together like a gang within a gang. ‘i was brooklyn born and raised, silva. how the fuck was i supposed to take that seriously? quaint little city with trouble, figured it was you just being needy and wanting me around.’ he takes the beer as he chides his brother, toasting to him in the same motion too. ‘yeah i think they were bothering them. just two gals out on the town, punching guys in the dick. normal at boots.’ he’s seen a lot in the previous year and he’s sure there’s more to come. ‘how you feeling about little logan being back? not so little huh?’ he asks, feeling a reminder of his own son drifting through life without him. it doesn’t overshadow the happiness he feels on santi’s behalf, but it’s there.

‘i’m glad you noticed.’ dimitri dazzles a smile followed by a lengthy nod at the self-proclaimed anti-social alley-dweller. ‘not a people person, huh? you must hate this then.’ he chides as his hand signals the space between them. he takes a sweeping look when she invites him to, laughing again at the abruptness before agreeing wholeheartedly. ‘look like you were born before a lotta things. fire. the wheel.’ he bares a grin and then slides his thumb and finger across his lips. ‘ohh gotcha, i’m talking too much, right? not been told that much, i have to say.’

dimitri looks over the stranger’s shoulder as they do, waiting for them to turn back to him before he responds. ‘nah, was talking to the walls.’ he replies in a dry tone, only smirking with one corner of his mouth. dimitri doesn’t express any reaction to the bite back from the shadowy alley-dweller, he continues with his cigarette as his eyes study them for a moment. ‘you like nice walks next to trash cans?’ he asks carefully, hiding another grin quickly and forcing it to a thoughtful frown. ‘i can’t keep up with these mental health quirks from the internet, first it was walks in nature and now downtown rats are meant to be good for you?’

sometimes, dimitri isn’t required to show his face at the bar but he decides to regardless. usually when the insomnia kicks in or when the ragged memories piece together behind his closed eyes. he doesn’t do any work, just tucks himself in the small back office and frequently escapes to the back of the bar for a cigarette, waiting for his eyes to get heavy naturally. during one of these breaks, a scuffle of shoes across the ground makes him turn his head and he sees a tall and dark figure swaying. ‘if you’re looking for a doorway to sleep in, you’re better off nowhere near here.’ he warns, assuming it’s someone to try and get warm for the night. ‘not because i wouldn’t let you, but because this is usually where some of the regulars come to throw up.’ 

dimitri exists in a small grey area, not exactly mc but close enough to be one but he gave up participating in earning titles or patches or medals. that world was nothing but damning and he feels more secure knowing he has one clear objective as and when he’s needed. ‘how do we politely tell ethan that the only one of his kids i haven’t pulled off somebody at boots is elijah?’ he laughs to santi, taking a seat at the kitchen table. friend is too weak of a word and brother has always fitted their closeness. ‘i thought afgan was bad but god damn, seeing those two jones girls smack a dude in his dick really made me reconsider coming here.’

he doesn’t hate the man, after all they’re on the same team which by all accounts means dimitri has to at the very least trust him. but there’s something easy to dislike about hakan, perhaps the way he yields his power through little or no hard work. the exact opposite of what dimitri was taught. ‘didn’t think you’d be caught dead in a honky tonk.’ dimitri laughs because truthfully, neither did he. his thick brooklyn accent proves that he’s far from home too. ‘hate to break it to you kan, but only top shelf here is drinks the rats ain’t pissed on.’ he grins, joking with a serious demeanor. 

if dimitri counts the years he has annoyed and been annoyed by cordelia stanley, he knows he will run out of fingers. their so called friendship is the perfect example of how habits are formed, and how familiarity of a cycle becomes impossible to break. the writer grunts to the other in response, without a single care blowing through his brain for del’s quips. it’s the apparent list that makes him perk up, sitting up slightly straighter. ‘i’m sure you’ll tell me them even if i say not to.’ dimitri mumbles into his palm that rubs over his face before he looks to del. he isn’t surprised by their notice of his not so subtle character placements. the producers and editors alike told him plenty of times to change it, but perhaps dimitri was hoping for a reaction. even if he hates it all the same. ‘just something to make the fans tweet about. you know how it is.’ he grins. ‘it’s nothing personal, del. you should get that chip off your shoulder.’ dimitri takes in a large breath and he eyes the papers that del offers to him first before his hand snakes up to take them. ‘probably a god damn court serve.’ he grumbles to himself, opening up the papers and sure enough there it is. the familiar letter headings of the stanley lawyers he has dealt with on more than one occasion. he can’t be angry at it, because the execution is so flawless on del’s part, so he laughs. just one scoff at first before the chuckles take over. ‘i ever told you that i fucking hate you?’

‘i knew you would.’ dimitri says with an air of confidence, watching del maneuver herself like a newly born fawn. he’s seen them like this before, plenty of times and it always takes him right back to being a young boy. watching his father stumble over words, find it impossible to stand. the compliment is not what he expects, making dimitri glance to del and take a moment to appreciate it. with sarcasm. ‘of course it was my idea, you think you’re the only author who hates that asshole?’ he goads her effortlessly but can’t avoid the elephant in the room. silently, he passes over the water bottle he’s holding hoping they will take it without a fuss. their friendship is not conventional, but despite the tussles and courtcases it was still a friendship somehow. ‘you look like shit.’ he comments simply, looking elsewhere in the auditorium. ‘and smell like it.’ 

“i like small town vibes because the likelihood of being recognized is lower, del. same reason as you.” dimitri replies blandly, looking around the stunned coffee shop as del announces to the world that he’s there. crickets, as expected but equally welcomed. “feel better now?” dimitri asks the other writer with a sarcastic hum to his tone as he sits back further in his seat. “you checked your blood pressure recently? you seem like you got a lot on, did you hit a writer’s block? run out of words for ‘ghost’?” he smirks, gesturing to the free seat opposite him. “come on, relax. take a load off, i’m sure we can talk about it like adults. plan our next court date, maybe without dinner this time, huh?” his sarcasm is growing by the second, wondering how long it will take for del to blow a fuse and embarrassing themself. “you don’t hate me for existing, del. you hate that we exist at the same time and that our paths keep crossing. can’t kid a kidder, sweetcheeks.”

“thank god.” he jokes back, enjoying the well-enjoyed tension breaking comments between them. his eyeline travels through the bar, noticing a woman behind it looking through the crowd perhaps to find any other troublemakers, or ensuring they’ve left. dimitri scoffs to the money, not rudely but waving his hand nonetheless. “yeah, you’re a damn delight.” he jokes again. “keep it, kid. might need it for your bail.” he laughs, getting comfortable at the bar even if his jeans feel a little too damp to truly relax. “blackwell, dimitri.” he nods, giving his name like james bond as he clicks his tongue and winks while raising his drink. “you carry a hundred bucks around and drink in dive bars often, kieran? seems like an oxymoron.”

“freddy, jason!” dimitri calls after his two labs who have made a friend at first sight in a doberman. there’s no worry in dimitri’s tone as he closes to the other dog walker, hands in pockets as he nods. “they’re real friendly. too friendly. still working on their recall, whole reason why i got labs was because i thought they were meant to be easy to train. that’ll teach me getting two.” he laughs, leashing up the horror themed labradors once he was close enough. “now that’s a dog.” he adds, looking to the elegant doberman as all the dogs bundle together in a sniff frenzy.