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Overall, the night had been awful already.
Scratch that, the whole month had been awful, maybe even the whole year. Business had not been booming like expected, and pay was getting cut smaller and smaller. Soon, he’d have to find another place to play his songs, and God only knows how long that will take. Right now, he sorely wishes that he hadn’t gotten himself banned from half the bars in the area when he was younger.
The blond kicks back another shot, grimacing as he feels it burn the back of his throat. Logically, he’s well aware he shouldn’t be getting wasted before walking home alone, but he tossed aside logic a long time ago. If he wanted to, he could trace it back to the exact moment that he gave up caring, but it hurts too much to think about it.
(He still thinks of it despite how he feels. A year and four months ago, that’s when he stopped caring. That’s when his life was torn apart. There weren't enough band aids in the world to cover the wounds of his bleeding heart.)
The bartender takes one look at him and his gaze softens. They’ve done this nightly at this point, but it never ceases to amaze him that someone still cares for him.
“Seems about time you head home, son.” The man is older, his brunette hair starting to turn salt and pepper. His name slips away from his muddled mind, but he knows him well enough to know his tone isn’t condescending.
He shakes his head and lets go of the shot glass. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m going, sorry again man.”
It’s the older man’s turn to shake his head now. “Don’t be sorry, I know how it feels. It’ll get better one day, I promise.”
Yeah right , he wants to say. He wishes to scream about how the man will never understand what it’s like, how he didn’t get it like he did. He wants to pick up the glass and throw it straight into his face, screaming and yelling every obscenity he can. He would throw himself over the counter and break the man's whole face until he started crying and maybe he would cry, too.
Instead of doing any of this, he simply forces a sad, awkward smile and slinks off of the plush stool he had been sitting atop.
There is no one in the bar besides him and it’s most likely because the place was supposed to have closed to visitors an hour and a half ago. The bartender is nice to him though and treats him like a porcelain doll, too afraid he will break if he were just asked to leave. While he appreciates the sentiment, a part of him bristles with rage.
His name is Casper Langley. He is in his early 30’s and lives in New York. His hair is short and messy, a beautiful platinum blonde with faded dye sticking to the ends of it. His clothes are baggy and in need of a wash yet the jacket he wears barely fits him. It’s unzipped with patches sewn and ironed onto it and it’s noticeably more taken care of than the rest of his attire. His eyes are a deep brown, and they lack whatever shine they used to have. On his back, a guitar case rests.
Overall, he’s a wreck. He knows this and has yet to do something about it. In the back of his mind, he is reminded of his therapist telling him about how grief does terrible things to a person. No shit, Darcy.
As he trudges down the street, he allows himself a moment of relaxation. He’s tired, gross, and honestly, he wishes that he could hibernate like a bear right now. His head feels fuzzy, and his senses are numb. He might have had one shot too many, but it’s the least of his concerns at the moment.
What is of concern is the man that comes barreling into him full force. He’s knocked out of his trance so fast that it nearly gives him whiplash and he’s left with no time to brace himself for impact.
He hits the ground with a hard thud and groans in pain. That’s definitely going to leave a bruise.
Above him, he hears a man profusely apologizing. It’s hard to hear this, though, as his ears are ringing and his head pounds. He’s vaguely aware of when a hand firmly grasps his and pulls him back upright.
When he’s finally standing and preparing to cuss out the guy until he goes crying for his mother, he allows himself to take in the guy in front of him.
He’s stark white. Like, legitimately white. His outfit is beyond gaudy, with an ill-fitting bucket hat and sunglasses, a cargo jacket, and an absurd lack of pants. The lack of pants though doesn’t really matter when you take into account there’s nothing there to show for the public indecency. In fact, he lacks a lot of key features, such as a face. A face that is currently replaced with a giant black hole. You couldn’t make this shit up if you tried, he thought bitterly.
He wasn’t in the mood for weird street performers tonight, or- whatever this guy was. He looks like he came straight from 101 Dalmatians. Maybe he could call Cruella Deville to come pick up this guy. Or maybe that’s just the alcohol talking. His drink may have been laced with acid, or some other hallucinogenic drug. At least, it might as well have been.
“Soooo sorry! I didn’t see you there and- well you kind of blend in, you know? Like, you’re wearing dark clothes and there’s like- no streetlights. They should get streetlights. Or you should wear one of those fluorescent vests. Like the ones crossing guard's wear!”
The guy just keeps going and it takes all his will power not to just throw him onto the ground. Seriously, he’s not in the mood. Right as he’s about to walk away and push the guy out of his way, he says something that’s actually of interest.
“Oh hey- is that your wallet? You wouldn’t mind if I just- take this, right? Real low on money right now and I’m new to the robbing scene so if you could kindly make no noise that would be appreciated. Please and thank you.” The guy has already got the leather wallet in his hand by the time he ends.
Immediately, the blond is taken out of his drunken haze. Oh, hell no. He is not about to get robbed by some wannabe criminal right now. His name is Casper Langley for fuck’s sake, and he didn’t go down in the high school yearbook as “most likely to get arrested” for nothing.
Before the spotted guy even notices, Casper is already pulling back his leg and kicking him right where the sun doesn’t shine. Or shouldn’t shine, but whatever. The guy yelps, dropping his wallet in favor of shielding his crotch. He takes this chance to swiftly kick the guy again, this time swiping his feet right out from beneath him. The man protests and pleas for no more, but Casper’s already shoving a boot onto his chest and pinning him down.
“Now let’s get one thing straight,” The blond slurs as his hair falls into his face, “Nobody, and I mean, nobody takes my shit and gets away with it. You’re lucky I don’t tie you up into a body bag and throw you into the ocean.” For emphasis, he digs his boot in a bit harder.
The spotted one quite literally whimpers and Casper ignores whatever that stirs up within him. “G-got it! Never again, very sorry, so sorry. Won’t bother you again! Now can you please move your foot, it’s starting to hurt. Please?”
Before getting off of him, the blond leans even more weight upon the guy and then lets up. He snatches his wallet off the ground and watches only mildly amused as the spotted guy gets up and scrambles back where he came from.
With a huff, he continues on towards home.
The weeks following that incident carry on like no other. He had filed a report at the police station the next morning. While he despised the local cops as they never did anything in the past, it didn’t hurt to say something. Although he doubted the guy would be capable of more than robbing a baby of its candy, it’s still another petty criminal on the streets causing trouble.
He doesn’t tell anyone else about it though, choosing to stay silent and move on. After all, it’s not like the guy did any real harm. If anything, he’d get charged with battery if he told someone the full story of him kicking the guy's ass.
What is important though is what he realizes two days too late. During the whole debacle, he had dropped something very important to him. It had been resting in his pocket and must have gone flying when he hit the ground. When he scrambled back to the area though, it had been gone. He hadn’t really expected it to be there as he knew that any scum in the area would take it without a second thought, but he had been hoping it wouldn't be gone.
That night, he drank a few too many shots and had to call a cab home.
Overall, he had nearly forgotten about the attempt at robbery with the only reminder of the event being the ache of losing such an important item of his. He would have gotten over it entirely if it weren’t for the bastard showing up again.
It had been a night much like the one he had first met him on. Dark, not a cloud in the sky, and the addition of some newly added streetlights. That last one had made him laugh when he had first seen those considering the fact his former robber had commented on the lack of streetlights.
This time around though, Casper wasn’t absolutely wasted. He’d had a halfway decent night and decided that he wanted to go home and reward himself with a movie marathon. It was already pretty late though, and despite the likelihood of him actually being able to get a movie in being low, he was still pretty chipper. The only thing that could ruin his night would be another run in with that weird potential street performer, and he scoffed at the idea. There was no chance that the same guy would come sauntering out of the same exact alleyway he had before, he was sure of it.
He should have just kept his mouth shut.
When he heard a noise coming from the nearby alleyway, he simply thought it was a racoon or an alley cat. At the prospect of seeing such animals, he decided to take a detour and check out what it was. Casper, while coming off as a gruff man, was an avid animal lover. Back home, he had a pet of his own who was a lovely fat gray tabby cat named Schrodinger. He called her Ding for short.
Beloved pets aside, the blond was ecstatic at the thought of seeing a cute animal to brighten his night. He was not expecting to look down the alleyway and see the pasty white ass of a grown man dumpster diving.
So now here he was, standing in absolute horror as he gazed upon the man rummaging through the trash. His horror was pushed to the side when he realized that the man's legs were oddly… spotted. It didn’t take long for him to put the pieces together and walk right over there and pull the man out by his legs.
The man in question squealed, kicking his legs in protest. He fell on the ground with a terrible thud and a groan. It took him a full minute to recuperate, and when he did, he screamed again.
“AH! It-it’s you! Gah! I’m so so sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you- well I mean I wasn’t, or I don’t think so at least. Do you live here? Was I too noisy? Or is this like- your 'terf'. Do you own the land around here? I should have done my research, I’m sorry. Please don’t hit me again, it really hurt.”
The guy does not shut up, does he? To be fair though, Casper’s not too sure why he even bothered with the guy to begin with. He already beat the guy into submission, it’s not like there was much else he could do. Maybe the anger at losing his valued possession was getting to him.
Speaking of the guy in front of him who was originally babbling on nervously perked up. “Oh! Yeah, um, hey! Listen, as a peace offering, why don’t you take this necklace I found and- hEY!”
The blond snatched the necklace without thinking and fixed a steely gaze upon the man in front of him. It was beautiful, made mostly out of gold and with small crystals outlining the charm in the middle. The charm itself was of a star and on the back was an engraving that had been worn away with excessive wear.
“Where did you get this?” He demanded in a low tone.
The spotted man cowered. “Oh uh- I found it. Here. On the ground. I thought it was pretty so I um- took it.” By now, the man was excessively wringing his hands, attempting to crack knuckles that didn’t even seem to be there.
Yet despite how threatening the aura coming off of him was, Casper managed a small smile. “Thank you.”
Now it was the spotted one’s turn to be surprised. While he may have had no face, it was a dead giveaway what he was supposed to be due to the hole on his face. He laughed it all off awkwardly. “Oh, yes, you’re welcome. I totally knew that was yours. All in the day’s work of The Spot!”
The ridiculousness of it all got a laugh out of the blond and the other merely gawked. Casper had a feeling that if he could, The Spot’s face would be flushed bright red. He wiped a tear from his eye and clasped the necklace back into place.
“Alright ‘Spot’, thanks again. See ya.” And with a poor salute as a goodbye, he began his trek back home. He could hear the Spot sputtering and rambling on even as he turned the corner out the alley.
It took him until he was halfway home to realize he had lost his wallet.
Turns out, the Spot was simply a petty criminal looking for money. Despite this, Casper believed he had a right to be annoyed at the fact he was the man’s biggest target.
Every week, The Spot would stumble upon him. Whether it be on purpose or simply another dumpster dive, it didn’t really matter. They would always end up exchanging words and sometimes even punches, but they would always end up stealing something from the other.
They carried on like that for weeks after that. At some point, their little game of cat and mouse had become fun. They began to actively seek the other out, whether it be because of something stolen or just the idea of having someone in their presence. Without realizing it, the two had become something.
After living in a slump for so long, chasing each other around finally reignited the fire inside of Casper. He had forgotten what it was like to truly live.
(He had cried upon discovering this. This time though, it wasn’t suffocating like the recent times he had cried. The tears he had shed were done so with a smile on his face. He had laughed, wet and happy, and simply relished in how light he felt.)
Casper hadn’t felt this way since- well, since before the incident. No matter how free he felt, he still couldn’t bear to bring up the memory. Still, what mattered was that he was alive and for the most part, well.
(At some point, he realized just how eerily familiar the man was to him. It was like looking at a ghost of the past. From the way he spoke down to the way he moved; it was all horrifyingly similar to a person he couldn't place a finger on.
Deep down, he did know who it was. Sometimes, he pretended like it was really him. He knew how wrong he was for it, to project the image of a completely different person onto one that you just met, but he couldn't help it. He missed him so much, and every familiar moment brought back the agonizing pain he felt all that time ago.
In the end, he pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind and never brought it up again.)
Business was doing better now, and he had enough money to splurge at least a bit. That fact had brought him an immense amount of joy when he first realized, and he had spent that night eating at one of his old favorite restaurants.
With this extra cash he had earned, he decided he wanted to pay back his new friend. It only made sense to thank the guy who had given him a reason to keep going.
And maybe, he thought to himself as he gathered his things, maybe it’s finally getting better.
When Casper had given the other man his choice of food, he did not expect to be dragged to the greasiest fast-food establishment in the area.
He supposes he can’t really argue with his decision seeing as he regularly binges on greasy food as well. That wasn’t what had made his brows raise though. What did was the fact the place didn’t seem like… him. After spending over a month or two with the guy, he feels like this should have been less shocking than it was.
The Spot was wearing the same outfit he had met him in. This time though, due to Casper’s complaints, he wore a pair of khaki pants. He didn’t look comfortable in them whatsoever, but if it meant his friend would be comfortable in his presence, he would suffer. Despite the discomfort of his new attire, he still seemed happy to be there.
“And here we are!” He spreads his arms open wide as he presents the place with enthusiasm. “This used to be my favorite place to eat back when I was in college. I used to go every time I aced a test. After that, I think I almost died of food poisoning and stopped going.”
His delivery of the words had Casper doubling over in laughter. The story was so absurd that he could hardly handle it.
(In the back of his mind, the story itched a part of his brain that he had repressed, its contents eerily similar to one he’d heard before.)
The Spot holds the door open for the blond and he immediately ducks inside. There weren't many people inside besides a couple college students who were poring over some complicated notes, a middle-aged man who looked to be enjoying his meal, and the two workers that were talking at the register. Overall, the place was good for someone who didn’t want to be recognized.
Upon seeing Spot’s hesitance to get in line and order, Casper steps up to the counter with a polite greeting.
It only takes 5 minutes of fumbling words and awkward eye-contact until the two get their order. Both ordered a simple burger, with Casper getting a fountain soda and fries as well. The two waited next to the soda machine together while they waited for their order. One of the cashiers was already giving them the side eye, and the Spot squirmed under their gaze. Subconsciously, the blond put a hand to the other’s arm and Spot grew rigid. They stayed like that until their order came.
Not willing to risk getting caught by eating inside, the two walk out with their respective bags and turn the corner. The building itself is wedged between two tall buildings and is easily dwarfed in comparison. Despite the horrible placement, the alleyways next to it make for a perfect place to eat.
They’re not extremely far from the dumpster, and it does kind of smell, but it’s not too bad. Neither of them comments on the fact that they probably look like idiots.
The Spot takes up residence on the wall as he leans back. In his grip, he clutches his paper bag like it’s a lifeline. Upon seeing that the Spot hadn’t touched his food whatsoever, the blond decides to comment.
“Are you going to eat that?” Casper jokes lightly with a lazy grin as he too plopped himself against the wall. He tears apart the wrapper concealing his burger and takes a bite. The Spot swallows hard before he speaks up.
“Well, um. You see, this is kind of embarrassing after I just made you buy this and all. But uh, I like, may have forgotten at the moment that I… Can’t. Actually. Eat…”
The silence that follows is deafening.
Still leaning against the wall awkwardly clutching the takeout bag, Spot breaks the silence. “You know, I- I never got your name.”
All thoughts halted to a stop, and he felt as though he had gotten hit with a truck.
What?
Had he truly never given his name? Obviously, the man beside him was in fact a criminal, but to have spent so long with him and never given him a name? Now that just sounded absurd! He felt a rush of shame course through his body, and he quickly swallowed his food.
“I’m so sorry man, I never realized. Kind of thought you already knew or whatever.” He pauses to wipe at his mouth with his sleeve. “It’s Casper, but you could just call me Cas.”
The spot where the man’s face is meant to be widens a bit before gasps “Oh! O-oh.” His hands clutch the takeout bag tighter now. “Wow. Um, wow. That’s- okay.”
The blond’s eyebrow raises at the man’s strange reaction. He lowers his burger subconsciously and turns to fully look at the spotted man. “You good? Didn’t think my name was that awe-inspiring.”
While he laughs at his own lame joke, the Spot does nothing more but squeeze the bag in his hands harder. “No, no, I’m sorry. It’s just- this is really, really weird but I knew someone who had the same name as you. It just brought up a lot of old memories and I didn’t expect it.”
Oh? Well, he wasn’t wrong, that is kind of weird. In fact, his name isn’t even all that common around here, so it’s odd the Spot had met someone named like him. He supposes it’s merely an odd coincidence and moves to take another bite of his burger.
In the end, the Spot pushes himself off the wall and turns to look at Casper. He’s bent over to accommodate for how short the other is and he still seems like a bundle of nerves. The spot on his face wriggles around a bit in the face of his nerves.
“I’m sorry Casper,” He starts, “But I think I’ve got to go. Sorry if I’ve like- ruined the night or something. But- yeah. Bye.” And just like that, he stumbles backwards into a hole he had put on the ground while the other wasn’t looking.
For a while, Casper stands and stares at the place his friend used to be. Had he said something wrong? While it’s understandable that his name might have brought a few memories back, he sure hoped they weren’t bad memories. He would hate to have lost his friend all because of a simple name.
As he stands there and contemplates, he realizes he never got the other man’s name.