Neon Lights

06

Well, he still had Draven's number.

It was a spur of a moment that Callisto took out his phone and typed in his name. He had been sure that the search would result with no contact in his device, but it seemed he was proven wrong. For some reason, his past self had kept his number. He slumped into the seat, the wheels squeaking when he landed his whole weight on it without softening his sitting. The paper with the obscure string of numbers was placed on the desk, facing down to reveal the name he wished he had forgotten.

His fingers turned white from the pressure he held his phone, staring down at the number.

If he could crush it, he would.

A soft sigh escaped his lips, stuttering a little when Luna's face flashed in his mind. For some reason, his sister knew this man. Even when he frantically went through past conversations with her, he was sure she hadn't mentioned him. The sides from which they came from were polar opposites. They came from a place where chaos was stressful and there had been nothing more they wanted when they were younger than the peace and quiet.

Peace from the bullies from school, the dirty looks their neighbours would give for their ex-convict of a father, and most of all, from their parents arguing to things in the house breaking in midst of the fights. Callisto could recall of the times he held Luna tight in her bedroom, sometimes hiding in their closest when their parents' voices grew too loud. The ringing of silence that it would bring when both of their voices had crescendoed usually had him shaking with Luna crying on his shoulder.

And the aftermath of the scene when they did dare to step out of their rooms, the mess of glasses and shattered items with their mother crying on the ground at one corner of the room and their father slumped and shuddering at the front door — those were the days that he wished he would never return to.

They came from a place of chaos — was peace too much to ask?

And Draven... he thrived in those situations.

With a manic look in those eyes as he threw his fists at anyone who dared to challenge him, he wore dangerous well and it made him alluring. Callisto had experienced it first hand when those very hands had reached out to him — how the strength in those fingers were used for both to hug him when the world tried to break him down and to hurt others for simply bumping into him without apologising.

The duality of the man was addicting.

And that was enough reasons for Callisto to know he needed to get out of there.

Luna should've shared the same sentiments as him coming from similar backgrounds.

"So, what happened and why do you know him?" he whispered to nobody, his voice shaking and his vision blurred.

Pressing his fingers to his eyes, he wiped the tears before they escaped his eyes. Right now, he had a big dilemma before him. As useless Rave had been, he had at least abandoned him with one clue — to one person. And despite his past reservations and current ones, this was the only thing he had left that connected back to Luna.

He dropped his phone, letting it clatter on the wood with enough force that it shook the already weakly built table. The familiar paralysing fear that he had experienced way too many times in his life knocked at the doors of his mind, begging him to let him in. But he had to barricade it out if he wanted to save his sister from whatever it was she had entangled herself in.

Darting his eyes at the lonesome device amongst the messy pages and books and then away again a few times, he gathered whatever rationality he had left piece by piece to act as his courage. The number was still on the screen, and if it had eyes, it would be boring into his face, waiting for him to give in and call Draven.