Coda to Anger: Coda to Love

Coda to Anger: In the mists of bombings in Harris, New York. Love blossoms for several in the Harris PD... Coda to Love: In the wake of the death of a Marshal, a deadly shooter set up shop in Harris. Tempers are high,friendships are tested and love saves.


28. Chapter Three: The Meeting

The drizzle turned into moderate rainfall, Criss, Ty Nic and Vane had stream coming off them as the cold rain hit their warm exposed skin. Criss just wanted to run and hid, he was free. But deep inside he knew that he had to stand up to Karah. One to prove to himself that he was not a victim and two to show Karah that he did not belong to him.

“Criss, what's the matter.” Vane said to Ty Nic as the stood under the leaking eave that run along the front of the Romana Coffee.

Criss stopped at the door, “Nothing.” He lied.

Ty Nic stepped forward placing a hand on his arm, “Don't lie, Hector is also worried. The other day when you nearly fell off the structure.”

Criss remembered, he hadn't nearly fell. He had a change of heart and caught himself in the nick of time. He didn't know way when he was not here he was just a thing. Here he was a legend once a paramedic of seven years. After leaving the 24/7 duty he entered the dating scene.

Like many other men, single, married, and sometimes woman. Her lush velvet brown eyes, full rosy red lip and soft ringlets of long blonde hair. Long slender legs and perfectly shape body, showing them off as she moved through the shanty bar on Bartom St. In every large city there is 'dodge city' Harris was no exception. The Cowlls' neighborhood is the dodge city. Not much for people with weapons nor drugs, what made it such was the lack of funds from the city council. More like lack of interest to maintain the neighborhood. The poor condition of the buildings give squatters the perfect opportunity. Apart from The Military Guys having their base there, who aren't even worth bragging about. Nothing comes out of that neighborhood. Except for Karah, the siren whom lured people to the most overpriced bar in Harris. Some times the weak or the especially horny got to experience the private side of Karah.

“I'm fine.” He said with a small smile.

Vane and Ty Nic just stared at Criss, not convinced.

Criss entered the coffee shop. Soon after a formal dressed man run to the door of the coffee shop, focused and drained looking. On the left side of his pants was a chain hooked to his belt loops, with the man's running it had half bounced free of his pocket.

The watched him pass over the threshold as another man exited it the same time. A collage student by the looks. Ty Nic and Vane continued talking waiting for Criss.

Criss, once inside the coffee house, his anxiety and terror melted away. To a mere hum. Relishing the overwhelming sense of calm. A feeling he has never completely felt before. Ordering his Americano, feeling great so much so that he was wearing a smile. A genuine smile that touched his eyes, which hasn't happened since Karah.

The man behind the counter set the coffee on the bar and Criss put the money on it too. Coffee in hand he turned, the hand holding the cup crumpled against a hard yet giving body. The hot liquid poured over his hand and across the light blue formal attire, that did not stop his forward progression until Criss was chest to chest with the man, which he was an inch and a half shorter. The hum of anxiety and terror sprang back to the forefront, yet somehow different than the anxiety and terror that followed him in here. The anxiety and terror stemmed from the fact that he might have just fucked something that could save his life. Now confusion accompanied the terror.

“Are you alright?” A deep voice asked.

Criss looked, he was the one who should be asking as he was the one who just darken church wear with scolding hot liquid. However, when he looked up into the amber eyes, though bloodshot and swollen, they looked at him at confused understanding. Like the man who seeming unaffected by the spreading stain of extreme warmth, Criss had forgotten about his hand. Now pinned between them, with the obliterated cup. New warmth rushed through him at the same time it was like he knew this man, the rush of warmth nearly throws him to the floor. Also making him want to weep, because his plan seeped back in to the forefront of his mind. He'd much rather be here with this stranger somehow was better then Karah.

Criss took a step back, eyes wide with conflict. The amber eyes in the drained, pale face seemed, though Criss could not be sure of what he was seeing, to be pleading. Pleading what? Criss didn't want to think about it nor look into those pleading eyes one moment longer. Eyes on the floor, light hard wood and now coffee covered. Criss ran from the coffee house.

Reggie stood bewildered, looking at the place where he was and feeling where he had pressed against him. The scolding heat from the coffee only hurt for a second until the icy blue eyes meant his. The feeling that lead him there faded as soon as the coffee man turned into him.

Reggie turned toward the door, seeing only gawking patrons and the building storm outside. He wanted to cry, running out the door. The chilly air hitting the warm patch on the front of his suit making him shiver. Scanning for any trace of the man, even the two that he past on his way in were gone.

“Sir, excuse me.” There was a tap of an finger on his shoulder. Reggie turned, it was a young blonde, “he and two others run two blocks down turning left onto Lamhis.”

“Thank you.” Reggie answered with a slow drawl as he was experiencing the most oddest mix of emotions.

The woman slowly withdrew back into the building eyes never leaving Reggie's, the puzzlement mixed with fear on her face, cause no change to Reggie distant gaze.

How was this possible? Reggie knew what happened in the coffee shop, the man said nothing and the longer he stands here in confused thought the chance of loosening the man grew ever greater. But he felt that he already knew him and...intimately. His heart hurt yet he did not move toward Lamhis, he didn't understand why he couldn't just run after him.

Criss or Kriss.

Was that his name? Reggie thought. His head hurt so he walked home in the pouring rain. He was not angry, even though he did have a drying stain on his only nice suit. No, it was not anger he felt. It was anguish.

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