‧₊˚𖦹 ࣪.𓋼𓍊𖤣𖥧‪𖡼‬𖥧𖤣𓍊𓋼. ࣪𖦹˚₊‧

Drip… drip… drip…

The man stared into his dirty sink as blood mixed with the water. 

He’d cut himself while trying to shave. Tired eyes lifted and he was greeted by the sight in front of him. A very exhausted and hungover man with half a beard coated in gel and a bloody gash on his chin looked back. Lazily grabbing a cloth he held it to his face with one hand while continuing to shave off foam.

Once finished shaving he ran his shower. A hand with chewed fingernails rubbed one of the heavy bags that laid under his lashes as the water slowly warmed up. Stepping in, he gasped as water ran over his tattooed skin and greasy hair. It was going to be the first of many interesting days. Daine had forgotten what it was like to have a routine having spent months without one. Ever since he’d given his horses up to the facility for the time being, the man was just drifting through the air, like smoke on a breeze. Except that smoke was from a forest fire that never seemed to stop burning, only wavering here and there, just to explode into an inferno.

Trouble never left him and it was only a matter of time before it found him again.

Ding!

There it was.

After getting out of the shower Daine picked up his cracked phone screen. It was a text from the person he was meeting up with today to meet the horse he’d be working with. They were confirming if he was still coming. The brunette couldn’t stop the intrusive thought of saying no from entering his head and becoming a possibility. He didn’t have to do this. It was optional. He could live the rest of his life with no passion, no expectations. Shaking his still-wet hair he wrote back a simple “yes”.

Finding a sweater that didn’t reek of weed was hard to find when his entire small dorm had a miasma about it. At least it wasn’t filthy like many depression nests, just in a state of disarray with clothes and a couple spare dishes. Oh and also some various alcohol bottles, ash trays, pipes, and a bong. The brunette made a mental note to clean that up afterwards if he had the energy. Finally he found something buried in his room. Smelling it, he figured some cologne could cover what stuck to it. Hurrying out of the dorm and down to the stables, Daine checked his phone. He was on time… ish. Good enough.

Waiting for him was an older man with salt and pepper hair, no sight of his natural hair color left. He was taller, muscular, and fit for someone his suspected age. There was a scar notched in his brow and a couple tattoos on both his arms that were some kind of nautical or sailor theme. Daine didn’t particularly care. The brunette wanted to act nonchalant but having someone look at him like this reminded him of being a little kid; small memories of being in trouble for taking one of his sister’s toys and their poor single dad trying to tell him off drifted into his head before quickly being flooded out with force.

“You actually showed up this time I see.” The man’s voice was rough like gravel and carried an air of sarcasm.

Not looking him in the eyes, Daine shrugged, “I thought it was a nice day out. Might as well enjoy it before winter hits again. I’m sure a dinosaur like you knows all about that, Walt.” The silver-haired man rolled his stormy eyes, turning away and beginning to walk, expecting the younger man to follow. Which he did.

“I’m sure you don’t want to hear it again but I’m saying it because I don’t want to get in trouble-” Daine listened to the man speak, looking over at the horses. It has been a beautiful day. So many staff, students, and regular boarders were out to enjoy it with their mounts. “-you are going to be working with one of the rehab horses we have. Not one of the more serious cases but one the program thinks you’ll work well with.” Walt continued on as his student continued to people-watch.

They walked through the pavilion, making their way through more turns and smaller paths before finally getting to the round pens. The brunette could tell the breed even from a distance. A dark Loshenka with a belt of white stood in the pen, swishing its tail occasionally at bugs as it tried to grab at grass that stuck through the sand in defiance of the man-placed material. The two men walked to the wall and allowed a closer look. 

“Surrendered to us a while ago now. Show horse that was given up on.”

“Sounds vaguely familiar.” Daine snorted.

“Why do you think I suggested to the program you take him?”

He shot Walt a glare, the man having a smug look on his face, having expected the reaction. The older gentleman turned his attention back to the stallion, growing serious once more. “Seemed stressed as hell when getting here but now acts like a paddock princess. Will barely get up into a trot.” Daine had dealt with plenty of lazy horses over the years. His own horse, Raven, was one of them. A stubborn mustang makeover stallion. That hurt to think about now. Another memory to flood out.

“You think you’re up to it, Daniel?” He was snapped out of his daze by the mention of his first name. Fuck, he hated being called that.

Letting out a huff, his hand snatched the lead rope Walt was now holding. “Of course I am.”

The gate creaked open and dirty boots stepped into the white sand of the small pen. The horse didn’t move or flinch, still sniffing around. Clicking his tongue he swung the end of the rope in a circular motion, slowly walking towards his new companion. Instead of the usual push he was used to, the paint just looked at him with one eye, leaning his shoulder away and going back to tugging on the root he’d managed to find.

“Come on, Bud. Get goin.” Daine spoke softly, gradually getting closer. The most that moved was a hoof and the man could now feel Walt’s eyes burning into the back of his stained sweater. Fuck. He swung faster, clicking his tongue more. Snorting, the horse walked a couple steps away before going back to the fencing.

“I told you he was a hard nut to crack!” Walt called making a hot tightness begin to form in Daine’s chest.

Growling, he yelled at the horse, walking faster over to it. “Come on! You dickhead!”

Picking its head up the Loshenka frowned and pinned its ears. It trotted over to the other side and immediately dove its head down again and stopped. That had given Daine only a moment of relief. Now this was just getting annoying.

Walt watched from the side as the brunette reached for the lunge whip. While the kid was a hothead he was not one to take his anger out of his animals. The older man trusted him. Though it was still a shock to his ears to hear it crack against the sand.

“Come on! Get going! Get!” Raised Daine’s voice, beginning to put more pressure on. Snorting once more, this time the stallion kept his head up and began to trot around the ring. 

A new feeling replaced the previous one in his chest. This was something he hadn’t felt in a while. Excitement. He jogged around the ring, cheering the dark colored horse on as he stretched his legs and kicked up bits of sand. Finally, Daine stopped and allowed his new friend to do the same. His belted barrel heaved, obviously having put so much effort into trotting around a small round pen twice. 

Putting the whip down the brunette man approached the other penmate with caution, showing he was no longer trying to chase him. The blackberry colored horse sniffed his hand, looking for treats. Meanwhile from across the way Walt lightly clapped. “See? I knew you’d get him going.” Daine shook his head but hid a proud smile.

Together they walked down the aisle of one of the stables. They were now empty, all horses being in pasture or ridden. Bird songs floated in through the open doors and windows, carried on a smooth breeze. Neither of them looked at each other, Walt looking up and Daine fixated on a pebble.

“I’m glad you came out here.”

Daine stayed quiet before giving a soft, “Thanks. I guess I needed it.” There was another long pause.

Clearing his throat Walt spoke up again. “You should continue working with that horse. I think you two would make a good team.”

“That’s what they said about my ex and I.” Daine snickered but it was thick with pain. Walt stopped himself from wincing at the words; he had heard stories of why the kid had moved here.”I’m serious.”

Once they stopped outside the ground, the brunette shook his head and put one of his cigarettes in his mouth and lit it. He kept his lighter blowing, allowing the older man to begin to burn his own cancer stick.

Daine blew smoke out of his mouth, squinting in the shade as the two looked over the manicured grounds. Those thoughts from earlier were starting to drift back into his head. Behind his eyes he could see the familiar faces, hear the laughter but also the intense anger. The disappointment.

“Fine. I’ll do it.

‧₊˚𖦹 ࣪.𓋼𓍊𖤣𖥧‪𖡼‬𖥧𖤣𓍊𓋼. ࣪𖦹˚₊‧