Chapter Text
The only good decision Luca had ever made in his entire life was buying that knife at the corner store.
For 5 years now, ever since he had moved to England and away from his home, it had accompanied him through every job, every new food phase and all his highs and lows. It had lasted through countless uses. From carving wood to chopping vegetables in his miniscule kitchen, the knife had withstood it all. Never had the mechanism lost its satisfying snap, never had its handle lost its grip. Only the blade lost its black paint, faded through the many times it had been sharpened and cleaned.
So why now? Why must it abandon Luca now, at his lowest? God, he was so useless he couldn’t even cut himself properly. There was just a single, tiny droplet of blood beading on his arm where he had managed to cut before the knife had fallen from his hands, shattering on the tiled floor. The purple handle in a million pieces, the blade still intact, with the hinge still attached to it. Or what was left of it.
Luca just…laughed. It sounded pained, manic. But after all, it was kind of funny.
Even the blade had lost its faith in him.
Of course. It was always just a matter of time before everyone and everything gave up on him.
Another laugh made its way out of his throat. He should’ve done it. It had only been 3 weeks ago when he had stood up on the tallest bridge of the city, contemplating if he should jump.
Contemplating if life was still worth living.
The single droplet of blood rolled off his arm and dripped onto the blade of his knife, right where the hinge sat. Like it was bleeding for him.
Slowly, the laughter turned into slow sobs, then crying. Without caring where the blade had fallen, Luca slid to the ground, leaning against the wall and curling up on himself. The crying only got louder.
When morning came, Luca was still asleep on the cold bathroom floor. It wasn’t until about 1pm when he slowly opened his eyes, blinking through the dried tears from yesterday evening. Every joint, every bone, every cell seemed, hurt from the way he had slept.
His eyes once more landed on the scattered parts of his knife. The handle in every part of the room, in every corner, every crevice. The blade, just centimeters from his left leg. The dried blood where the hinge met the metal.
The thought from yesterday crossed his mind.
The knife had bled for him.
Yesterday, he had seen it as a mocking blow. Now, it almost seemed like the knife had kept him from harming, had taken his pain and had bled so he didn’t have to. Maybe it hadn’t left him after all.
Maybe, even if it was gone now, it hadn’t lost faith in him.
Slowly, Luca got up, deciding the knife was a problem for later. He trotted out of the bathroom, careful to not step on anything, and made his way to his bedroom. The bed was almost not visible through the mountains of empty cans and dirty dishes. He took a single look around and decided that he was not dealing with this now.
“You can’t just out everything off! Lazy shit!”
Luca shook the thought away, as his phone beeped with a message. The preview on the screen showed an email. Probably a rejection email to one of the multiple applications he had sent out in a wave of dopamine he had gotten after jerking off 7 times in a row a few days ago.
Still, Luca picked it up and opened the email, expecting another ‘Thank you for applying, but after careful consideration we have decided to offer the position to another candidate.’ But to his surprise, it was not a rejection letter, but rather an invitation to an interview in person.
Perplexed, Luca read though the email again. And again. And again. And again. He had to still be asleep. This had to be a dream. Yes, exactly that’s what is happening.
To make sure, Luca pinched himself on his arm, immediately wincing in pain. He had hit the spot where he had cut himself ereyesterday.
After confirming that he wasn’t dreaming, he took a look at who he had sent the application to. He couldn’t remember a thing.
Bad memory comes with depression and he was a severe case.
Turns out, he had sent an application to a club. But no ordinary club.
The Velvet Thorn was the most famous BDSM Club in all of London.
He had been there once, with his friends.
“The friend who left you because you were a useless nobody and you still are!”
Taking a deep breath to clear his head, Luca decided that he didn’t give two fucks about where and who he was serving. The main thing was the money. Also, it hadn’t been all too bad when he had visited.
Slowly, a feeling crept into Luca. He knew that feeling and he sure as fuck didn’t like it.
Anticipation.
On anticipation Disappointment always followed.
Always.