Tomorrow Can Wait

Victor ran a hand through his Mohawk, ruffling it into spikes. He reached into his front pocket and grabbed his keys, walking down the hallway of his apartment complex to his door. The undone buckles if his jacket clicked together as he walked, his combat boots scuffing the carpet. He paused, looking around him before unlocking his door. He slid in and immediately locked and bolted his door. Victor paused, his hand resting against the doorframe. The space felt colder, and there was a slight breeze. He furrowed his brows and turned to see that the window in the living room was open. The curtain shuddering from the wind.

            This place was his hideout from everyday life. It was a safe zone from the craziness of being a singer, a celebrity. Only two people knew about this space, and neither of them would ever tell the media or a stranger. Victor knew that much. But perhaps a fan had followed him here? He slowly walked in, flicking on a light switch. And froze. Lying on top of the sheets was Kyra. She groaned, shifting and rolling over to see Victor. And smiled.

            He shook his head and walked over to the window, closing and locking it. He walked over to the bed and she shifted her hips so that he could sit down beside her. He smiled, “What are you doing here?”

            “Sleeping,” she said hoarsely. There was a bruise blossoming over her cheek. She had a split lip, a gash over her eyebrow, and there was a bruising red mark around her throat.

            Victor inhaled sharply, “What happened?”

            “Eh, a bastard resisted the handcuffs,” she shrugged, “Nothing serious.”

            “You sure?” he asked.

            “Mmm,” she smiled, “I’m sure. Got fifty thousand for the guy. So yeah, all is good.”

            “What the hell did he do to get that kind of price over his head?” Victor asked.

            Kyra laughed then winced, “I don’t know. I don’t ask, you know that.”

            “Suddenly my life doesn’t seem so bad,” Victor chuckled.

            “You’re a rock star,” Kyra smirked, “You’re life isn’t bad at all.”

            He placed his hand on his forehead and swayed dramatically, “Oh! It’s so terrible, so exhausting, and so much work. I’m so tired!”

            She punched him lightly, “Shut up, you know you love it.”

            “I do,” Victor went serious, leaning over her. “The only bad thing is that half the time my privacy doesn’t exist.”

            “You have this place,” she pointed out.

            “A place I paid for with cash, under a different name,” Victor smirked, “So normal.”

            “It’s more normal than hunting down criminals underground and handing them over to the police for extra cash,” Kyra said.

            Victor climbed over her to lie down next to her, propping his head up with one arm. Kyra shifted over, resting her head on his chest and looking up at him. He gave her a small, genuine smile, “Tomorrow I’m leaving to go on my world tour.”

            “Tomorrow I go hunting for another bounty,” she replied.

            “How about this?” Victor said, “How about for tonight, let’s forget that we are two people with two crazy lives that might not ever intertwine again. Let’s just pretend that we are a regular boy and girl who like each other. Just for tonight.”

            She smiled, propping herself up and gently brought her lips to his. It tasted of happiness and sadness, of longing and hopelessness. It hinted at a future, but also implied that this might be the end. When Kyra pulled back, she was smiling but her eyes were shining. He cupped the side of her face, “What do you say?”

            She blinked once, “I say okay.”

            Victor smiled and closed the gap between them again. This time though, their hands gripped at clothing and the kiss simply tasted of desire and happiness. Tomorrow could wait.