Home Late - Drabble
The heavy thunk of the apartment door vibrated through Devinâs back and up into his head. He sighed, a hand searched for the lock on his door to fully ensure he was locked in and alone. His head rested against the door as he tried to calm himself down, his muscles still twitched from excess adrenaline. He was still so worked up, he swore he could feel the heat from the fresh blood on his neck and chest and it wasnât helping him to relax.Â
All he could hear was his heart beating in his ears, for a moment, that helped to relax him. His jaw slowly began to unclench just as one of his phones buzzed on his kitchen counter. The sound quickly snapped him out of his relaxed trance as the blood began to pump faster again. Devin slowly made his way over to the counter to check what phone it was that buzzed. It buzzed again as he picked it up. He felt as if his teeth were vibrating as his focus once again landed on the excess energy he needed to get out. Dark hair fell over scanning eyes as he read the messages from the chat room with his⌠friends? Co-workers? He wasnât sure what the label the group just yet but now wasnât the time to figure it out.Â
With a gentle toss of his phone back onto the counter, he began to shed his large coat and tossed it onto the couch. Small hands tightly wrapped around the sledgehammer he kept near the door and kicked over its tire companion onto the ground to properly burn off the energy that still pumped through his veins.
Swing after swing, Devin could feel his muscles burn, but it was a familiar burn he had become all too accustomed to in the past few years. He had only started taking working out seriously once he had a stable place to stay. It was something he thought heâd hate to actively do, but it became a surprising outlet for his rage and excess energy. Plus, the extra bulk was definitely a perk.
With a final swing, he let the handle of the hammer clank to the ground. He placed his hands onto his hips and crouched down, breathing heavily as sweat slowly trickled down his neck and chest. The sweat only rehydrated the blood on his person which made the scent permeate his nostrils once more. The hitman sighed and started to walk to his bathroom. He needed to get clean before any evidence managed to invade his home. Especially now that it had begun to run down his skin again.
He kicked his boots off and watched them flop rather ungracefully against the bathroom door frame. The light flickered on as Devin entered the room, his hand shifted from the light switch to his belt and started to unbuckle it. His eyes fixated on his reflection in the mirror as he continued the rather mindless task. Blood stained his light bronze skin, most of it dried and cracked from exposure to the air but there were patches of it that were flowing once more down his neck and chest. He ran a finger over some of the dried blotches and felt the blood had dried his chest hair to his skin, much to his absolute annoyance.
âShould I just fuckin' shave at this point?â He thought bitterly to himself while his nail attempted to loosen some of the blood on his chest. Ultimately, it would be helpful for his line of work, but the upkeep would have been tortuous. Not to mention he'd probably have to wax and ever since his accident, his pain threshold weakened tremendously.Â
With another sigh, Devin wriggled his way out his shirt and balled it up in his hands. He stuck it in the sink to avoid any rouge DNA on his floor and have it instead drain down the sink. A hand fiddled with the faucet in the shower before he repeated this with the rest of his clothes.
The hot water battered his sore muscles as he stepped foot into the shower. He simply stood there for a moment, enjoying the heat and letting the jet beat the knots out of his overworked body. It was oddly peaceful. Especially given the task he had just completed. A reminder of said task now running down his body and being washed away down the drain.Â
Devin had grown used to seeing blood pool at his feet. Both in his shower and at work. In fact, it was weirder to him when it didn't occur during a shower. It felt as if he was constantly washing blood off of him these days, sometimes his but usually it's someone else's. He pondered this as he doused himself in soap to scrub at his neck at chest to get any lingering blood off of his person.
It wasn't long before the hot water began to run out. He quickly rinsed his hair out to avoid the ever cooling water and get out before he felt like he was being pelted by hail.
He stepped out, a towel now dried his hair before he mopped up the rest of the water on his now clean skin. The towel was wrapped around his waist as the steam shrouded him in heat.
 Blue eyes fixated on his reflection in the fogged up mirror. It always looked different. It was always just distorted enough to make it appear as if Devin's face was back to normal. No scar. No disfigured lip. Just his old face.
His scar had healed a little more properly in the past few years, causing his skin to be less raw and pink. Third only made the illusion more believable as some of the color returned to the right side of his face. While he had grown used to his scar and the appearance he now had, he always secretly wished he didn't look the way he did.Â
But every time he'd wipe the perspiration away from the mirror, his scar was there. Ever present.
