Cut Me from Your World (Part 2) by Fantasy Weaver

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Continued from part one. Any mention of characters from other stories are from my own roster.

-Fantasy Weaver.


Note

1: Foul language ahead

2: Adult content ahead


XXXXX

Cut Me from Your World - Part Two of Two

XXXXX


It was the day of the concert.

And things never went as planned for Fenix.

Never.

The world seemed like it was always out to get him.

It had almost gone perfectly. Adder had taken long enough in the bathroom to give Fenix ample time to assemble his duffel bag and shove it in the hallway closet. He’d even had Star call him to set up the "My sister is at the ER and I can’t leave her alone" card. Adder had protested, as Fenix knew he would, until he told him his parents were out of town.

Everything had fallen apart when he reached for that blasted bag. The zipper! He had completely forgotten to close the zipper, and now, here he was, jean jacket around his shoulders, bag half-emptied on the ground, hand hovering over the door handle-

And Adder, glaring at him from down the hallway.

"What the f*** is that?" He quietly demanded. Far too quietly.

Fenix’s limbs began to shake. His mouth opened, but no words came out.

Adder approached, stalked towards him like a snake on the prowl. His eyes too were green like Ian’s, but they weren’t the soft forest leaves and pine needles that resided in Ian’s irises. They were poison, venom, acid pools in place of eyes.

And now, they were like needles biting into his flesh, accusatory glare eating away at his bravado.

"Why the f*** do you have a change of clothes with you?" Adder reiterated with a calm that could only come before a terrible, raging storm.


Ian’s expression crossed Fenix’s mind. He thought of the smile, of the care in his face, of the worry he always showed him. He thought of the barely-there blush that sometimes appeared on his face when they were together. Of the gift he had given him. Fingers brushing together.

Adder needed to let him have friends.

"I lied."

His boyfriend looked positively furious. The vein on the side of his right temple throbbed. Fenix could see his jaw slowly grinding away beneath a layer of skin. His entire body was rigid, coiled, ready to strike. "Yeah. No sh*t. So where were you really going, Fenix?"

His body shook to his very core, but he tried to remain calm. Don’t make any sudden moves. Don’t anger Adder any further than he already is, though that would probably be impossible with what he was about to say.

"I’m going to a concert. With a friend."

A blond brow rose up, an askance glance. "Who?"

It was uttered low, deadly.

Fenix swallowed, throat dry. "Ian gave me the ticket for my birthday-"

"Ian!?" Adder exploded at him, right fist colliding with the wall as soon as the name was out, causing Fenix to jump and close in on himself. "You were going out to hang out with f***ing Ian!?"

Tears stung his eyes. "He’s my friend-"

"Bullsh*t!" Adder cut him off, ripping the bag from his hands in his rage. Just as roughly, he grabbed Fenix’s arm and dragged him into the living room.

"Adder, wait! Let me explain-" he tried desperately, pulling his arm in the opposite direction.

Adder was up in his face, both hands squeezing down on his arms so hard his limbs cried out in pain. "I told you I didn’t want you seeing that mother f***er. How many times do I have to repeat myself, huh!?" His voice grew louder; that vein threatened to pop on the side of his head.

Fenix’s breath caught in his throat, as did the hurt noise that wanted desperately to fly from his mouth. Blue eyes squeezed shut, "Adder, please, stop! You’re hurting me!"

Still, the blond-haired man refused to let go, pulling Fenix closer to him until their noses were practically touching. "All he wants to do is f*** you and throw you away like trash. That’s all you are to him!"

Through the rage that engulfed Adder, Fenix felt a chill roll down his spine; his harsh breathing transformed, turned from wrathful to something far more sinister in quality. His hot breath fanned over Fenix’s freckled face, smelling of the cigarette that still burned away in the ashtray on the stained coffee table, heady with jealousy and lust.

He didn’t want it. "Get off me!" He cried.

"You know I wouldn’t do that to you, right?" Adder panted, eyes lidded and dark. His hands continued to tighten around the smaller man’s arms, until Fenix was actively crying. "I’ve always stayed by your side. Ian would leave you the moment he’d be done filling your ass with his cum. But not me…"

Fenix shivered at the feel of Adder’s tongue, hot and moist along his pulsing artery. Disgust painted itself over his features. When once he might have moaned at the gesture, back when he was a lot more clueless about his boyfriend’s true colors, now all he could do was try to wrench his neck, his entire head, away.

"Agh!"

Strong, unyielding fingers, no longer on his right arm, but tangled in his mess of red curls, tight and yanking and dragging his head back towards Adder’s own, baring his neck, twisting his spine until all he could do was hold on to his boyfriend’s shoulder for support with his free hand.

He hated this. When had he realized that? Years ago? Had he buried the knowledge under his hopes, even when they always got crushed beyond repair? Adder’s grip in his hair only worsened, and he tried to make him stop again, tried to free the vice-like hold in his curls. Somewhere between his shout and now, Adder had begun to rub his knee over Fenix’s unresponsive bulge, hidden under his jeans.

Adder did that a lot, he thought. Grab his hair. When they were hanging out, on the couch, when they were out, when Fenix was looking at stuff he shouldn’t be, when Adder wanted his attention, when Adder was impatient, when Adder was mad, when Adder demanded apologies, when Adder wanted to spit in his open mouth, when Adder wanted Fenix to suck his cock, when he wanted Fenix to bend over, to roll over, to lift his ass in in the air and arch his back and cry and moan and let Adder shove his cock in his-

"Let go of my hair!" With a forceful shove, Fenix pushed Adder off of him, uncaring for the few lost strands of red hair that stayed locked in the other’s fist.

Adder grunted, landing roughly against the coffee table. It flipped to one side, ashtray and forgotten, lit cigarette falling to the ground. Glass shattered. The bong that always stood by one of the legs burst into pieces as the table knocked it over, stagnant water quickly pooling on the wooden floorboards, drowning the burning end of the cigarette.

Panting, Fenix backed up, blue eyes wide and unfocused, scared.

He had pushed Adder.

And he looked furious.

"You bitch, Fenix! What the f***!"

He had pushed him.

And he had fallen like a fly. Like a miserable, defenseless, stinking fly.

Fenix had barely used any more strength that necessary to move a couch. He’s not that strong. And yet. And yet, Adder was on the ground.

He’s shaking. Maybe it’s the adrenaline. Maybe he’s stronger than what he thought. Whatever the reason, Fenix looked down at himself, realizing for the first time something he should have acknowledged long ago.

He’s better than Adder. He deserves better than Adder.

He looked around their disgusting apartment, the place that never got clean no matter how much time Adder spent home, doing nothing but getting high, drinking and listening to his loud music. Real metal. Words Adder had spat at him years ago. Fenix couldn’t even listen to his own favorite bands without him complaining about it. He couldn’t even go a day without having to do their dishes, their laundry, their cleaning, their food. Wiping the urine off the toilet seat. Sanding and varnishing furniture where burnt marks had been left by unattended cigarettes or blunts, paying their bills, no money left over for him to do much more than go out once every blue moon.

Toby didn’t have that problem with his girlfriend Vivian. He never complained about her. Star never stayed with a guy that didn’t treat her right. Her standards may be high, but at least she has some.

Ian.

Ian’s house was always clean. Ian worked. Ian had time off to do things, had friends, a social life, never went overboard with anything. He was always trying to get Fenix to go out. Who was there when Fenix needed to be patched up after Adder "accidentally" forgot to take his studded ring off? Who made sure he was putting ice on his bruises? Who gave him a place to crash, a shoulder to lean on, an ear to listen?

Who said "I love you" to him?

"F*** off Adder" Fenix bit, turning on his heel and walking purposefully towards the hallway to get his bag and discarded clothes.

He heard Adder struggling on the floor behind him. "Fenix, I swear to f***ing God, if you leave this place-"

He flipped on him quickly, eyes blue ice in in his incensed visage. "You’ll what!?" He demanded, angry tears running down his cheeks. "You’ll punish me? You’ll beat my ass bloody this time? What are you gonna do Adder!?"

Adder lifted himself, but soon crumbled to the floor, hissing as he gripped his ankle. "My foot, sh*t!"

Having had enough of his bullsh*t at last, Fenix scrambled to put his things back in his duffle and slung his - now zipped - bag over his shoulder. His entire body was trembling with the effort of staying put where he was and not going to kick Adder’s face in. Opening the door with more force than necessary, Fenix called over his shoulder, "Don’t wait up for me."

"Fenix! Don’t you dare-"

He slammed the door shut.

XXXXX

Ian was waiting for him behind the restaurant as planned, but when he saw Fenix’s shaken features, he was immediately on high alert.

"Fenix, are you okay, you look pale, is everything alright?"

Always looking out for him. How had he only noticed it now? But those musings were only so loud compared to what took up the forefront of his mind. Fury. Anger. Simmering, boiling hatred spewing over the rim of his consciousness.

Blue irises found soft green, and his mouth, pulling on a scowl, formed the only words he could think of, "We’re drinking tonight."

Ian stepped back, eyes widening incredulously. He lifted his hands, "Whoa, back up a second, I thought you didn’t want us to drink? So you could get your car back to the apartment?"

"Yeah, well f*** that plan, we’re not doing that anymore," Fenix shoved his hands in his jean jacket, hiding the trembling that afflicted them from his friends’ knowing gaze.

But Ian never was one to overlook even the smallest bits of his gestures, especially not when it came to Fenix. "Did something happen with Adder?" he asked quietly, non-confrontational.

He knew him better than anyone. Fenix flipped his hair behind his shoulders, wincing at the ache still present in his scalp. Refusing to meet Ian’s imploring gaze, for he knew his eyes were still wet with tears and red from crying, he muttered, "I don’t want to talk about him. Just, f*** him. I just want to go to the show and forget him."

Any other person might have smiled and said "Finally!", but this was Ian. Despite his evident hatred for Adder, Ian had never outwardly expressed these sentiments to Fenix. In fact, he tried his best to steer clear of any talk about him, having learned that Fenix was sensitive about the subject. And even now, all he said was, "Did you get into a fight? Did he…hurt you?" He thought for a moment, before adding, "Did he find out about the concert?"

Fenix laughed; it was bitter sound, filled with disappointment for himself, and contempt for his...for Adder. "All three?"

Ian inhaled sharply, hands balling into fists at his side. For a moment, he seemed to search his words, before a hesitant, "Do you…need a place to crash?"

Something between a smile and a scowl pulled at the red-head’s mouth. "I think I’m going to need a place to crash for a long while."

Bless Ian’s heart, he was too kind, too pure for this world. Fenix could see the man trying his damn hardest to supress the grin that wanted so badly to manifest on his lips, in just the way he ground the little black piercing in his tongue between his canines. Even in his voice, he tried to dampen the hopeful tint in his final inquiry, "Are you and Adder breaking up?"

Fenix’s mind halted for a moment in its rampage. Was this the moment? Was that what this was? Had he finally had enough of being his boyfriend’s punching bag, scapegoat, servant?

It’s not like he wanted to go back to his apartment tonight. Or any other night. Besides. Adder’s name was the one on the rent papers. Not his. He had no obligation to remain if he didn’t want to. And why would he? Did he really want to go back to get more bruises, a harsher beating for not listen to Adder, abiding by his wishes?

No way.

"I’m f***ing breaking up with him alright."

Ian was still trying not to grin. "For real?"

His own smile split his lips. "For real."

"No joke?"

"I’m dead serious, Ian, I want nothing to do with him anymore." The words, like a catalyst, only seemed to draw more of them out of his being, words and things left long forgotten to fester within his soul. "I’m such an idiot for staying with that bastard. God, I don’t know why I didn’t do this sooner-"

"Hey, you’re not an idiot," Fenix cut off, placing his right palm on Fenix’s shoulder and, without the hesitancy he usually had for such a gesture, he gently pulled Fenix into his side, clapping his back as he did. "The only idiot in that relationship was Adder for what he did to you. He doesn’t know how lucky he was that you stayed with him for as long as you did."

Ah, finally, Ian’s real feelings about Adder. Tough Fenix suspected he was still being nice about it. That would change though. Drinking was on his menu tonight. Just for tonight. However… "Ian, I need you to promise me something."

Those soft green eyes found his, a lock of dark drown farming the right side of his handsome face. "Yeah, anything."

Fenix snorted. "If I try to call him or go back home, you make sure to lock me in your house." Ian laughed at the ludicrous request, but then, "I mean it, I don’t want to go back to him. Call Star if you need backup, she’d be happy to make sure I don’t make a fool of myself again."

"Hey, I thought we just went over the you being an idiot part." Ian let his shoulders go, giving Fenix a hard look. "But if it makes you feel any better, I promise I’ll tuck you on the couch in my living room when we come back from the show."

"Ugh! Not your leather sofa, that thing makes me sweat!"

The two men laughed. At long, Ian gestured to their cars, "Are we doing this? Drinking tonight?"

"Hell yeah."

His best friend’s face morphed. He was like a kid in a candy store. "Alright. Let’s f***ing do this!"

XXXXX

As soon as they got to Ian’s house, the two men set about getting themselves ready for a night out, donning their best outfits for the show, of a symphonic metal band that both of them adored (though admittedly, Fenix more than Ian). Thankfully, no pieces of clothing were missing from Fenix’s duffel bag, which came as a great relief to him. With the way Adder had tossed it aside, and how quickly he left, Fenix would have bet money on at least one missing boot.

Damn it. Thinking about Adder was only making him relive their argument back in their - his apartment. In fact, as Fenix was struggling to zip up his studded black jeans, all he could think of was of every other argument and altercation that had taken place there. Noise complaints from neighbors were common. One time even the police came, and Fenix had to cover their asses.

He was always the one doing that part, he mused to himself. It was never Adder being the responsible adult, as much as he acted like he was all the damn time. Always complaining about the way things were done around the house not being up to his standards. It’s not like it was Fenix’s fault the white towels got stains on them when Adder refused to soak them after wiping his black and white makeup on it after going to shows. Why get white towels at all if he’s just going to smear them black anyway?

Then there were all the damn lies Adder had spewed at him all these years. "Your sister didn’t call today", but Star swears up and down no one answered the phone. "We’ll go to that show next week, I promise," followed by "Sorry babe, no I didn’t get the tickets", but there was enough money to spend it on five different shows that Adder wanted to go to. "It’s just a rash, it’s not contagious" he says, when Fenix’s dick suddenly flared up the next day like there was fire all along it.

That, Fenix, knew, was probably his biggest mistake. Believing whatever lies about where he got those damn infections from. Fenix is no fool. He got checked to make damn sure he was clean at least once every two months. He never had anything, not until Adder gave him some horrible case of one STD or another. But Adder was never the one to blame. So, who then?

Contrary to what Ian reassured him of, Fenix knew he was an idiot for even staying after those instances. Adder had been f***ing around behind his back long before they had even lived together, and yet, like every other one of his terrible traits, Fenix had swept that under the rug too, because he had been a fool in love.

Well, no more.

"Hey, you good, there?" Ian called from where he stood by the door to his room, halfway done pulling a black tee-shirt over his head, colorful graphics covering the front.

God, he was still so mad, shaking with barely repressed rage. "Yeah, I just- I just need to- bathroom. Yeah."

Ian watched him worriedly as he made his way towards said bathroom, opting to remain quiet about the muttered words.

Once inside, Fenix closed the door, not bothering to lock it. He took the few steps towards the sink, placing his hands on the grey counter on either side. This isn’t good; he had to get a grip. He wanted to enjoy this night, but all he could think about was his boyfriend’s, no, his ex-boyfriend’s stupid face and stupid ways and stupid lies.

He gripped his hair in his hands, shaking his head from side to side-

Sensitivity on one spot of his scalp had him cringing. Right, Adder had gripped him pretty hard there. Not like that was the first time anyway. God, had he always been so sensitive to his head?

Blue eyes glared at their reflection in the mirror. He hadn’t even been able to take a shower before leaving the apartment, having been too anxious to do so or stressed about displeasing his abuser.

The curls were wild and tangled from their argument, from the hand that Adder had so ungracefully used to drag him towards his slimy tongue-

He hated it.

In that moment, all he could see when looking in the glass, was not a mane of copper, blonde and red waves or coils. No. All it was, was a handle for Adder to grip him with. To push and pull and do whatever he wanted to with him, so long as he held on to Fenix’s hair.

He thought back on when Ian had trimmed his hair, how mad Adder had been, how obsessively he had touched and prodded the lengths of his locks, as though inspecting the damage made to his precious little f***-toy.

He wanted it gone.

High on the sudden abhorrence that filled his entire being in one icy cold wave, Fenix scanned the counter for something, anything, to get rid of it. Ian’s a barber, he must have something to slice through hair with in here surely-

Not on the counter, but on a shelf nearby, were a pair of clippers.

Sh*t.

Wait, no, he needed to back up, to think this through. He likes his hair. He babies it and as much as Adder used it against him for his own selfish benefit, Fenix still enjoys feeling it’s comforting weight along his back. And what was he thinking, doing this right before a show! He wanted to head-bang, to feel his hair whip around his face and fall around his shoulders to the beat of the music. He wanted to experience those beats, the drums, the riffs, the harsh emotion playing off the strings of the guitar and the growls of the singer.

Fall around his shoulders.

Feel it, feel the anger.

Fall to the floor.

Let it fall.

Cut it from his head.

Cut him from his world.

He could…

Damn it all.

His invasive thoughts won out. Quickly, he locked the door to the bathroom, and uncaring that Ian might hear, opened his music app on his phone and chose the most appropriate song he could to match his current emotions. He didn’t want to hear the clippers, only the music. If he heard them he might back out and right now he didn’t want that. He just wanted to get rid of everything that made him think about Adder, f***ing Adder and his damn obsession with his hair and his controlling f***ing attitude.

He pumped the volume up high, quickly grabbing the clippers and plugging them in. Without a moment to waste, he turned them on. There wasn’t even a guard on it, but he no longer cared. All that mattered was relieving whatever urge had overtaken him and soothing the pain that all these years of denial and ignorance had done to him.

Three knocks came to the bathroom door before he could bring the clippers up to his head. Muffled through the barrier, he barely heard the call of, "Fenix? What are you doing in there? Is everything alright?"

No. He didn’t want to see Ian’s face right now. If he did- "I’m fine! I’ll be out in a minute!"

He found his crazed blue irises in the mirror, and for a moment, all he did was stare at his reflection. Shirtless, he could more clearly see the purple, red and yellow blotches from the bruises Adder had a habit of leaving him. The newest ones on his arms screamed at him, dark, bluish, the perfect imprint of Adder’s fingertips.

His hair sat in disarray on his head. He wondered, if Adder hadn’t let go, would he have been shoved face-first in the pillows of the bed, mouth filled with cotton, screaming into the bedsheets while Adder destroyed his behind with little concern for the bleeding that would ensue?

No more.

His left hand lifted the coils of red from his face. Forehead bared, he took an uneven breath and hardened his features.

His right hand lifted with the humming clipper, the harsh sound the perfect accompaniment to the song that played from Fenix’s phone. Pressing the blades first underneath his hairline, Fenix took a deep breath.

And plowed the clattering teeth into his mane.

"Fenix, is that my clipper I hear!?" Ian exclaimed from behind the door. There was a moment where, as Fenix focused on the sudden appearance of white scalp in the wake of the clipper’s destruction, Ian tried the doorknob, it’s clatter barely overheard above the crunching of the machine and the loud music blaring from Fenix’s phone.

He pressed on, panting, letting the blades tear through the hair all the way to his crown before pulling the clipper away, watching fascinated, as a mass of copper curls slid down along his shoulders, landing in the sink, on the counter, at his feet. Some stayed stuck in the rest of his hair, caught on other little coils, left dangling lifeless from the rest that still clung for dear life.

In the light of the bathroom, his skin was snow-white against the vivid colour of his locks.

He didn’t give a damn. Get rid of it all. He’s ruined it for good anyways, so he may as well make sure to finish the job.

Determined, Fenix brought the clipper back up again, to the right of the first strip of bare skin, and ploughed the purring clipper into his mane again, faster this time, left hand helping to push the shaved strands away from his head to join the rest on the bathroom tile.

A third strip, and most of his crown was denuded for the first time in his life. He was focused now, methodically getting rid of everything indiscriminately. Side burns disappeared in the hungry teeth of those powerful clippers, and just as easily the hair behind his right ear succumbed. Nothing stopped the clipper, not even when the blades whined at the thickness that invaded them did Fenix stop, finding the sound to only add to the music still resounding around the bathroom walls.

He quickly bent his head forward into the sink, bringing his hair tumbling forward, and blindly ran the clipper up his neck, pressing into his scalp, along his nape in repetitive upward strokes. With every new pass more hair accumulated in the sink, turning it from pure porcelain to fiery orange hues on par with the autumn leaves outside.

It was freeing in a way he couldn’t describe, feeling those long locks get cut away from himself. It’s as though shaving it was cutting Adder away from him too, lock by lock, piece by piece.

Surprisingly, Ian didn’t try the door or knock again. It was eerie silence beyond the bathroom door, but that thought barely registered in Fenix’s mind. His sole purpose right now was to get rid of the last few strands that were still attached to the left side of his head, and he quickly flipped his head back up.

It was harder getting the hair on that side while being right-handed, but he managed to turn his head in the mirror and clip the hair there, watching, staring at the tumbling locks as they got cut, one by one.

The last of the bulk fell to his shoulders, and by now, his former man resided more there than on his head.

His heart was pounding, lungs heaving in his chest. Tears stung his eyes, but that was the least of his worries. Some stragglers caught his eye, and as terrible as what he did was slamming into him, he still took a moment to grab the meagre locks and shave them down.

Finally, as the song came to an end, so too did Fenix turn the clipper off.

For a minute, the only thing Fenix did, was stare into the mirror.

His scalp shone pale under the fluorescent lights, but there were still some uneven patches of red stubble that caught the rays. It was a quick botch job, Fenix thought. Badly done. But it served its purpose. Shakily inhaling, he brushed the long waves of red hair from his shoulders and neck, sending them with their brethren at his feet.

Quietly, from the other side of the bathroom door, Ian’s voice traveled to Fenix’s ears, "Fenix. Can I come in?"

The man had nearly forgotten his friend’s presence in the hallway. Suddenly, his rage gave way to panic. How could he go out looking like this? He f*** his hair up so bad, Ian would think he’s…

His silence must have spoken volumes enough to Ian, who just said, "Look, Fenix, whatever you did in there, I’m sure it’s not so bad. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I’m pretty sure this has to do with…with Adder. So please," Ian’s voice was calm, "May I come in?"

Fenix held himself above the sink, blue eyes staring unseeingly into the nest of severed curls there. His curls.

A shaking hand rubbed his face, and he sighed a trembling breath. He couldn’t stay here forever.

Reluctantly, he unlocked the door, a silent invitation that Ian understood, even without words.

Fenix refused to meet Ian’s gaze in the mirror when he finally did open the door. For a moment, neither man said anything. Ian stepped forward, slow thuds indicating he had slipped into his heeled boots, the ones Fenix knew he always wore during shows. They were his favorite. He knew the sound of them by heart.

A second passed, another. Ian didn’t move further in. "If you wanted a makeover, you could have at least asked me to shave your head, you know."

A moment, and then, Fenix snorted, his panic subsiding. Of course, Ian would say something like that. Why had he thought that his best friend would be mad? Was that how bad Adder had skewed his perception of people? "It was kind of a spur of the moment thing."

At last, he lifted his face to the glass, half-smirk on his lips, mimicking the expression Ian himself was sporting. The man was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed with an incredulous yet amused sparkle in his eyes. He shook his head at Fenix playfully, "What are we going to do with you?"

What indeed? Fenix smiled as he straightened himself from the counter, hands roaming his badly-shaved head for the first time since he turned those clippers off.

A stupid little idea formed in his head, and those damn butterflies were back in his stomach with it. Being in a mood to succumb to his impulsive thoughts, though, he didn’t fight the sudden urge that ate away at his gut. Fenix stared straight into Ian’s eyes. "Maybe we could fix this mess" he suggested lightly, gesturing to his patchy head.

Ian laughed, pushing himself from the doorway to stand beside Fenix. "As a barber, I’m inclined to agree."

"I knew you would." The bald man smirked, picking at some loose hairs he had missed on his first pass. "God, I’m not good at this. Do people really do this to themselves?"

Ian took the clippers from the counter in his hand, turning them on without hesitation, their humming much more pronounced now that there was no more music to mask the noise. "You get used to it if you do it for long enough. Should we make it a habit?" Ian joked as he began passing the machine more thoroughly over his friend’s pale scalp.

"Ha, don’t even think about it." Fenix closed his eyes, letting Ian rid him of the little fly-aways that he hadn’t been able to get to on the back of his head, the patches on his crown.

The hum of the clippers was the only sound to be heard between them after that. Ian, skilled as he is as a barber, was far more confident in his strokes to Fenix’s scalp. He ran the blades close, precisely, left hand stretching the pale scalp as he did. It actually felt rather nice, Fenix conceded. That and, the contrast between Adder’s rough grabbing and Ian’s gentle tugging of his fingers, the slide of his palm against the grain of his stubble, was shocking.

"Bend your head a bit towards the sink," Ian asked.

Fenix nodded mutely, eyes still closed as he felt his friend run the clipper along his nape. Ian really was taking his time, making sure that everything was even. "Feels good. Weird."

"Weird good?"

"Look, don’t judge me. It just does." They chuckled a bit.

"Hey, I’m not one to judge. Glad you’re not freaking out over this," Ian remarked amusedly.

He almost had, before Ian had made good out of the situation. Like he always does. "Let’s hope my bad decisions won’t come back to haunt me then."

When Ian ran the blades over that tender spot on his scalp though, Fenix gave a hiss. Immediately, his friend took the clipper away, worriedly asking, "Did I nick you? Your skin is a little red here."

He touched the area, on the left side of Fenix’s crown. His fingers barely pressed. They ghosted over his skull, and the sensation had the bald man shivering. His hands gripped the edges of the counter to steady himself. "No, it’s…Adder grabbed me by my hair before. It’s fine. Just a little sore."

He couldn’t see Ian’s face with his eyes closed, but if his hesitancy to continue was any indicator, he was probably holding himself back from saying some choice words about Adder. The clipper met with his head again, more careful now around that red spot. Tiny clippings of red landed on his shoulders, scratchy bits of dust that he would have to shower off.

Ian’s hand nudged his forehead, urging Fenix to straighten. "Was that why you wanted to shave your head so bad?"

The question caught Fenix off guard. But then…He shrugged, tilting his head to the right to allow Ian better access to the left side of his scalp. "I don’t know. I’m just- I’m mad. I hate Adder’s guts and everything about him. I think part of me is still pissed he got mad when you trimmed my hair." Ian snorted at that, and Fenix grinned. "And yeah, he grabs my hair a lot. Grabbed, I guess."

"Well," Ian bent his friend’s ear, ridding him of the last few stragglers hiding behind it, and finally turned the clipper off. He patted Fenix’s newly shaved head of its cut stubble, smiling at him through the mirror, "There isn’t much left to grab anymore. Not like he can anyway."

Right. They’re not together anymore. It didn’t yet feel like it though. Maybe. The lack of weight on his head and shoulders seemed to mimic that of the weight of his terrible, toxic relationship lifting off his body and soul. It too must have been cast to the ground with his former mane, forgotten, unattached to him, no longer a burden to carry. He felt lighter, in so many ways.

Blue found green in the glass, held them for a long moment. Ian was watching him closely, in ways that did not help the butterflies still ever-present in Fenix’s stomach, though the stare, and the feeling, were not so unwelcomed.

"You look good," Ian offered.

Without a veil of red curls to hide his cheeks or ears behind, Fenix could only watch his reflection as the light flesh of his skin turned from white to pink to bright scarlet. Sheepishly, he rubbed his - now even - stubble, an embarrassed smile pulling at his mouth. "Don’t say that, I probably look like an egg."

"A good-looking egg."

"Ian, for real!"

The man laughed wholeheartedly, hand coming to pat his neck down again. Despite the joke, Fenix was still smiling like a fool.

A lovesick fool.

"Come on. Shower off and get ready" Ian offered as he went towards the door. Fenix turned around, hand rubbing his bare scalp where he could still feel Ian’s fingers along his sensitive skin. "We've got a show to go to."

XXXXX

They had secured a spot near the front of the pit, close enough to the stage to see the band members without odd aches in their necks.

Having a blast?

That wouldn’t even begin to describe what Fenix was feeling.

"Hell yeah!" He screamed as yet another on of his favorite songs got introduced by the band. He could have named it by the first three notes alone. Beside him, Ian was just as hyped. Their hands lifted in the air with the rest of the crowd, and as the song commenced in full, their heads lunged forward.

They were on their fourth (no wait, fifth?) can of beer tonight. It was sh*t beer but it was booze nonetheless, with the ability to render his limbs soft like jelly and get rid of his inhibitions. That, and they had maybe, perhaps, possibly gone to the bar and downed a few shots. Just maybe. But who’s to say? They left their cars at Ian’s place, having opted to take a bus and walk instead.

He banged his head along to the beat of the song, letting the music ripple through his being and traverse his neural pathways, taint his soul with its energy. His brain tingled with delight, and though he new his ears would be ringing latter tonight once in the silence of Ian’s house, he couldn’t care less that his eardrums were getting destroyed by their proximity to the speakers.

Ian didn’t seem to care either. He too was lost to the rhythm, hands lifting, hair flying everywhere, sticking to his lightly sweating face, smiling brightly, excitedly. Beautifully.

Fenix had always enjoyed head-banging with his long hair, feeling it whip around him. But even now, with his freshly shaved head, it was exhilarating. Every little movement he made had him breaking out in goosebumps, air tingling the nerve-endings there. He wasn’t as hot, it never got in the way of his eyes, he was light.

He hadn’t felt this good in so long.

"Fenix!"

He could almost hear Adder angrily calling out his name at home in his head. The thought made Fenix laugh; his voice drowned under the constant sounds of symphonic metal. How mad must Adder be right now? So mad. He’s probably having a conniption thinking about his f***-toy hanging out with another man - a better man.

"Get of my way- Fenix!"

Odd, Adder’s voice in his head didn’t sound all that distant or imaginary now. But surely he must be mistaken. He’s drunk, he’s not thinking straight.

"FENIX!"

The enraged cry of his name finally cemented in the fact that he was no longer hearing things. Fenix quickly turned on himself, eyes scanning the crowd around them.

Ian, shouting over the music to be heard, asked his friend, "Was that Adder I just heard?"

To their left, Fenix saw, among the writhing bodies of the show-goers, the flash of blonde hair that belonged to none other than his toxic ex himself.

Adder froze mid-scan of the crowd, his venomous gaze finding Ian first-

Before landing on Fenix, and the venom dispersing, leaving behind only confusion.

That’s right, Fenix recalled, feeling the air hit his head. Adder had last seen him with a full head of hair. It was no wonder he looked so puzzled in his anger.

A grin painted itself over Fenix’s face, and a delightful idea sprang forth in his tipsy mind. He continued to move in synch to the current song, feeling the lyrics pour into his heart; how the singer spoke of a controlling lover, telling them off for being manipulative, how their attitude is the death of their romance.

Fenix reached out for Ian’s hand, urging him to wrap his arm around his midriff.

Ian seemed to catch on to what he was doing, and not one to miss an opportunity to employ a non-verbal way of showing just how sick of Adder’s sh*t he was, he slid his hand around his friend’s back, making sure his ex saw every moment of it.

It worked wonders. Adder’s face was red even in the dark lights of the show, his jealousy palpable. He began shoving people aside to get to Fenix, but with every shove, got pushed back.

Fenix continued to taunt Adder, sending him a sneer. He moved his body up against Ian, hands rubbing his scalp as his body thrummed, eyes closing as though in bliss at the sensation, tongue peeking out of his mouth to lick his lips, and he stuck it out in Adder’s direction, too entertained to see the fury laced in the glare he sent him.

He looked into his eyes, and with a rather colorful gesture of his left hand to accompany him, he mouthed two words to his ex:

"F***" and "You".

The song came to an end, and as it did, the crowd parted enough for Adder to push his way towards Fenix. And though before the bald man might have cowered at the sight of his ex-love so furious, his own anger, aided by the rush of alcohol in his system, made him hold his ground fiercely.

Ian was about to intervene, but Fenix held out his hand. Not yet.

At last, Adder managed to close the distance between them, and as soon as he was within arms reach of Fenix, he shouted, "What the hell are you doing here!? You don’t answer your f***ing phone and you think you can just leave like that!? And what the f*** is this, you shaved your head!?" He tried to touch Fenix’s head, but the smaller man batted his arm away.

"Go home, Adder, it’s over," he muttered, words slightly slurred yet no less true.

"What are you talking about â€" Hey! Don’t f***ing touch him!"

Ian backed away from where he had tried to pass his arm between Adder and Fenix, having hoped to separate them before things got ugly. Fenix’s heart cried out for Ian. But above that, he was sad and angry and felt like punching Adder in his face, even if it wouldn’t solve anything.

The band was starting a new song now, and the harsher beats seemed to exacerbate these emotions and marry themselves to them in a harmony wholly poetic in this moment. This was supposed to be his and Ian’s night, away from Adder’s toxic ass, away from him for good, and here he was ruining it. The only silver lining in all this was that Adder had probably needed to buy a ticket off some rando on the street, selling them for five times the normal price just to get in.

The guitar riffs went faster, the male signer screamed in to the microphone. His anger seemed to match Fenix’s.

"Go away, Adder! I said it’s over! Do you know what that means? Go!" He screamed, pointing to the general direction of the entrance.

Adder’s eyes were dripping poison when he glared into icy blue. "The f*** are you talking about?"

"We’re through. I’m dumping your ass." Getting the words out in the open, telling them to Adder’s face was cathartic in a way that felt near-heavenly. He wanted to shout every single offensive thought he had harbored about Adder, berate him for every complaint, every whine, lay down his sins and rub his face in them and make him eat gravel. And yet, in those four words, "I’m dumping your ass", he had already said plenty enough.

Besides, Adder didn’t need to hear about his sins. He wouldn’t change himself for the better if he heard them. He never had in the years they had been together. And Fenix doubt he ever would.

As expected though, as soon as Adder heard the truth of what Fenix was doing, he exploded.

Their shouts and cries mingled with the sudden change in tone of the song, and behind them the crowd had formed a mosh pit, spinning and pushing up against the people that stood right behind Ian. Ian, who, by now, was trying to split Adder and Fenix apart before any damage could be done - to Fenix, that is. He could care less about his ex.

"You’re going to f***ing regret this when we get home tonight, you f***ing bi-" Adder screamed in Fenix’s face as his hands fisted the material of his jean jacket.

Fenix twisted his body, teeth knocking together as his head snapped back with the force at which Adder was shaking him. "Get off me!"

Ian’s eyes went to the mosh pit behind them, watching the swirling mass of writhing bodies. He turned to his struggling friend, making eye-contact, and in that moment, an unspoken understanding passed between them.

Fenix grabbed Adder’s left arm, Ian took hold of his right, and together, they swung him into the mosh pit.

The effect came instantly. Adder accidentally punched a much taller guy in the face with the force of the swing. Stumbling, Adder froze in the mosh pit, as the man he had inadvertently hurt towered over him with dark intent in his eyes. He bent his half-shaved head forward, black hair falling around his shoulders as he growled into Adder's face, "Did you just f***ing punch me?"

Fenix and Ian watched as the guy's friend, a man with copper hair in a bun and a goatee, called out to him, "You good there, Rah!?"

From his vantage point, Fenix nearly screamed in delight when the tall guy pulled his sleeves up in front of his cowering ex. "I'm about to be."

As soon as the guy finished that ominous threat, he pulled his arm back, and one blink later, Adder got hit square in the face. The guy’s friend knocked Adder around, and soon, the pit erupted into a chaotic, frenzied mix of roughhousing and fist fighting.

In the fray, Ian and Fenix watched Adder try to get back towards them, but he got pushed aside and thrown around like a rag doll by the crowd, ribs bruised by elbows, feet trampled beneath steel-toe boots, face punched in retaliation for his mistake.

Fenix smiled. Adder was getting plenty of what he deserved in there.

Finally, Adder was left to either get trampled and punched to try and reach them, or fight his way out the other side towards the exit.

Smartly, he chose the latter.

Fenix turned away with a smug, satisfied grin, a relieved Ian by his side.

XXXXX

"Hey."

"Hm?" Ian turned his head to him.

It was somewhere between late and way too early in the morning. It was still dark outside the walls of Ian’s home. They had gotten back about half and hour ago, chatting animatedly about the show and the "interruption" that had ensued. Now, they sat, facing each other on the leather couch, heads leaning heavily on the cushions as fatigue slowly turned their eyelids heavy.

Before sleep overtook them, Fenix wanted to express his gratitude though. "Thanks. For tonight. And all the other nights, days, you spend with me."

Ian chewed his tongue piercing at the words, eyes averting to his ripped jeans. "What are friends for?"

That didn’t sit right with him, Fenix thought. He turned his head into the cushion, hiding his suddenly warming features from Ian’s curious gaze. "Is that all you want to be?"

This time, Ian was the one to blush. He sighed agitatedly through his nose, hands doing that thing where he pulled his hair back into a bun. "I…Fenix, you just broke up tonight-"

"Well technically it was yesterday."

"God, shut up," Ian grinned, throwing a pillow towards Fenix, who caught it with a snicker. "I’m being serious here."

"So am I…" he shrugged, biting his lips to stop himself from saying anything more.

"Honestly?" Fenix nodded. "I’ve probably wanted to take you out since we got out of college. But you had started dating Adder by then, so I didn’t say anything. Even when-" He closed his eyes here, and Fenix did too, knowing what he was going to say before he did. "Even when you showed up with marks all over your body and you brushed off your sister’s advice, Toby’s advice, hell even my terrible advice, I didn’t say sh*t."

Fenix smiled sadly, though, through the negativity, a spark of hope, a new seed of love sprouted for his friend.

Tentatively, he reached his hand out to Ian’s draped across the top of the couch. Ian didn’t pull away.

He reciprocated.

"Do you want to say sh*t now?"

Ian smiled wider.

Slowly, he closed the gap between them, hand gently draping itself over Fenix’s shaved nape.

In that moment, side-by-side on the couch, away from the snake’s den, in this little world that was growing and expanding between them, Fenix tried not to think of what was to come, how he would get his stuff out of the apartment, where he would live, what he would say to people, about Adder, about himself, about his new look.

All that mattered right now, was this. This one moment. This one perfect birthday. This one person.

Foreheads touching, Ian finally said the words Fenix had longed to hear since he had gotten his hair trimmed six months ago.

"Do you want to go out with me?"

XXXXX

Constructive criticism is appreciated. Stay tuned for the next chapter of Cathairsis!

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