2
The small wrench felt like a brick of lead in your hand as you stood stoically over the mechanical monstrosity.
Although it wasnt a monstrosity in the slightest. The metal was pure, strong, expensive even. He made sure of that. He always got what he wanted in the end.
The shadows in the shop seemed to inch closer and closer as your mind sank into that pit youve done so well at hiding. The same one that took you years to crawl out of. Your jaw tenses, your skin heats, your heart quickens. Yet your eyes remain.. gazing on that bronze sheen.
Why
Why
WHY.
Why did it have to be tonight, why did it have to be you.
One foot in front of the other..
With a painful swallow, you force down past emotions past feelings, and turn to the one thing that makes sense. Fixing a problem..
Doing your typical diagnostic steps, the connecting joint is warped- likely from use. Typical, youve had to replace it a couple times so that's easy. Normal wear and tear along the metal- well normal for this. The large dents needed to be heated and hammered, but the gouges needed to be either welded or replaced. Welded might be better, after all theyre just gonna break again- and hopefully its when someone else is open.
With a sigh you grab your goggles, fastening them to your head. You retrieve some scrap titanium and toss it in your crucible. Twisting the knob of your torch until you hear the hiss of gas before sparking it to make a flame. Tweaking the knob until you get a steady roaring blue flame to heat the crucible.
While that heats you start disassembling the connector joint at the top. Discarding the old stripped parts off to the side to sort for scrap later. Rushing around you quickly find the replacement parts, they arent shiny or brand new, but theyll get the job done.
You disassemble the parts that need to be welded and set them to the side. After the titanium melts you spend time tediously pouring it into the gouges, messy silver ridges wind through through the warm toned brass.
Setting it off to the side to cool and harden you grab the torch holding the dented shoulder cuff over the flame until it amber before you pound out each dent.
Each strike of the hammer sends blinding flashes of memories.
Scarred hands holding yours.
Strike
Sweet yet peppery smoke curling around a predators grin.
Strike
Grey eyes the colour of a storm, holding the same cold fury.
Strike
You drop the hammer and shoulder plate, the two clanging onto the bench. Palms flat on the worn stained wood you squeeze your eyes shut like a vice trying to drown out the pervasive thoughts.
Their claws dragging you closer and closer to that seemingly never ending pit. You're swallowing air and somehow you still can't breathe. Your heartbeat pounding in your ears.
A stray bolt rolls from the bench onto the ground. The quiet sound pierced the air like a bullet. You're jolted from your thoughts catching your breath.
Rubbing the tension from your face you pick up the welded metal, beginning to carve and shave down the silvery sealed fissures. Work, its just work.. Its just metal and scrap.
You spend the next couple hours fixing the major damage, and doing some much needed minor maintenance.
Grabbing an old rag you pour some mineral oil onto it and begin wiping the exposed metal down. The mineral oil acting as a protective barrier to the elements, preventing rust buildup- and to give it that fresh polished look. You dont even know why you bother because this things gonna be beat to hell anyways.
The jingle of the bell paired with the squeal of the door makes your eyes glance up. You nearly have to do a double take, your brows furrowing.
She cut her hair..
Same height, maybe her muscles are slightly bigger, her eyes are darker than you remember.. But all in all, its the same old sevika, even after all this time.
Her demeanor visibly uncomfortable, her jaw tensed. She stalks up to the counter where her freshly repaired arm lay. Without a word she looks down at the metal arm, its shine reflecting the small light in the shop. Its quiet for a long tense moment. “How much do i owe you?..” Her bassy hoarse voice asks.
‘How much do i owe you?..’
A pang deep in your chest heats your blood. What a stupid question. How much does she owe? Ten years. Ten years worth of sleepless nights, torturous dreams. Ten years replaying memories that haunted every minute you were awake. What a fucking joke. How much did she-
“Just go..” your mouth moves before your brain catches up. You blink turning to clean your workbench. Putting away various tools.
“What?” Sevika says stunned
“I said go-” you exhale. Its been a long day and you want nothing more than to be far away from her again. To keep her purely in memory form. “-its fine..”
“You cant be serious..” She scoffs “How much do-”
You interrupt her before she finishes. Your tone laced with the bitterness of finality “Just get out.”
“I-” Sevika exhales before shaking her head picking up her arm from the table. Her tone resigned with defeat as she quietly says “thanks..” before her step retreat out of the front door..
The bell jingles, and those damn hinges squeal. Your face twitches in annoyance. The neverending squeal piercing your mind.
‘it's complicated..” she huffs frustrated
‘complicated how?!’ you balk in utter disbelief ‘the fact he even gave you a fucking ultimatum should give you your answer!’
She pinches the bridge of her nose ‘Its a decision that was bound to arise-’
‘Do you even hear yourself?! Youre choosing a man over the woman you love, and for what?! Bullshit ideas on how to fix this shithole of a city?!’
‘Theyre not- thats, not what's happening’ Sevika firmly clarifies
‘Of course its not-’ you scoff indignantly ‘im just in the way.”
‘i never said that’ Sevika growls
‘You didnt have to, the fact you're even weighing the options gives me your answer..’
With heavy footsteps, you go and lock the front door.