Could It Be That We Have Been This Way Before

Jack was proud of herself. She had never felt worse in her life, even before her break down, and yet she seemed to be holding on. She stared forward as Vito drove towards his club, leaving behind the party, the idiotic party-goers, and her friends...ex-friends...

The car glided to a stop outside of Vito's, this time in front, seeing as Jack was actually able to walk. She slid out of the car and turned to face the club. It seemed that while all the good people were back at the party, the rest of the wizarding world had come out to play. There was the usual que of people waiting to get into the club.

Jack took in a deep breath as she faced the club. Honestly, and she would never ever admit it to Vito, but she had grown rather fond of the place. She had realized so when Vito had said Andrew had tried to burn it down. She had felt terrible for one second, before being flooded with relief to find that it was still standing. She did not want to think why this place, the home to some of her worse memories, would be so treasured by her, and yet, there she was.

She was just going to have to accept the fact that she was screwed up.

She walked into the club and nodded at the doorman, who she actually had grown to know, even if it was just by recognition. She walked over to the bar and paused... She had never needed alcohol more...

"A Coke please... And some rum." She would start off with the Coke and, if it got too overwhelming, she would add the rum to the mix. She fished out some money and pushed it towards the barman, who seemed to look cautiously at her. She could not blame him. He took a lot of abuse whenever she came around for a visit.

She turned and strode over towards their usual booth. She slipped into a seat and pushed the rum aside, hoping she would not have to resort to that. She sipped her soda...

She wanted to get home and let herself break down, but she did not want to have to do that. She had to prove to someone, herself probably, that she was still strong.

She had stepped out of the car and had shut the door behind her without any hesitation at all, but Vito on the other hand, stayed behind in the driver’s seat for a moment, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel; his thoughts were stomping around in his head a little too loudly, and he needed a moment to regain control of his mind. He needed to have a good evening; when was the last time he had actually enjoyed an evening? He honestly couldn’t remember- which bothered him immensely.

Vito pushed the car door open, once again leaving it open when he walked away from the vehicle, expecting his employees to take care of everything for him. He continued towards the front entrance of his club, knocking into people with his shoulders in order to let them know that yes, Vito Dee Symons had arrived and everyone needed to get the hell out of the way. Upon learning this, a pair of women had stepped outside, stopping in front of the door, and in front of Vito, “Hello Vito…” one of them greeted him with a seductive look in her eyes, flattening her palm against his chest- but Vito had made it clear that he wanted everyone to get out of his way.

“Goodbye,” he replied in a tone of indifference, making the simple word sound more insulting than it would have, had it been used in any other way. Sure, he did enjoy the way the women that came to his club dressed and acted, and the way that they treated him like royalty- but he was in the middle of something, and wouldn’t be interrupted. Vito stepped inside his kingdom. The loud music rattled his brain inside of his skull as he stood there for a moment to inhaled the smell of the smoke that danced about the air, along with the drinks that were being served.

“Who here is drunk?” Vito asked the people about the place In a tone that was quiet, but was somehow still able to be heard above the pounding beat of the song that was being blasted from the speakers on the other side of the club. Several people raised their glasses high above their heads, and almost everyone answered him. Vito smirked, “and who is the reason for that?” he asked them, his full lips curling upward into a pride-filled smirk. “Vito Dee Symons”

Vito tilted his head back slightly and clapped his hands together- yes, he liked that answer, “Who is king here?” Several drunk voices shouted back their reply, and even though they were clearly intoxicated, it still gave Vito an ego boost that he really didn’t need to begin with, “Vito Dee Symons!”

After a few moments of taking in the loud music and the rest of the atmosphere he started to make his way over to the booth that he already knew Jack would have claimed as theirs for the evening; it was always the same booth, it always had been. Vito placed one foot in front of the other as he stepped forward, as if he were walking along a thin line and couldn’t step off to the side, his head held as high as ever. “Tonight, darling, is dedicated to forgetting about the f*cked up lives we live,” Vito told Jack, sliding into his side of the booth, leaning forward against the table on his arms to grin at the redhead in front of him; he could still see how fragile she was, and it bothered him all over again. “We’re so good at breaking down, I figure we might as well breakdown together,” he told her, forcing amusement into his words.

Forced. Forced. Forced- you FAKE.

Vito took the glass of rum that Jack had set down on the table and brought it to his lips to take a swig of it. He wasn’t a huge fan of rum, but at that point, he was all for drinking everything that was even remotely alcoholic. He slid the glass back over to Jack, pulling off his mask for a moment to allow her to see his confusion, irritation, and relief in his eyes, “Your just as damned as I am, after all- but I rule hell, so we get to revel in the flames, tonight,” he spoke, his words not matching his expression at all.

Jack was staring at her soda, wondering bitterly why it could not have the properties of Butterbeer to make her feel better or the properties of alcohol to make her feel worse. She did not want to sit here like this, she felt terrible sitting here and just waiting for something to happen, for life to happen, because she knew all to well that life was not very satisfying as anyone hoped it to be.

Vito joined her, sitting across from her at his usual seat and her eyes slowly traveled from her glass of fizzy cola to his eyes as he spoke. She felt a squirm of displeasure in her gut, hating that he knew she was breaking down. Hell, by now, everyone and their mother probably knew and it killed her to know that her tough, strong reputation might be slipping. She was not a pansy; she had just had a terrible day.

And yet, Vito was admitting that he was not feeling up to his usual perfection and that they could...break down together? Jack stared at him with the same face, feeling oddly relieved to hear him say that. She did not want to drag anyone down with her, but to have someone around who felt or at least understood her pain would be nice.

He drank from the rum and slid it over to her. Her hand wrapped around it and she stared at him as he spoke and she felt herself feel smaller; she had felt that way all evening, as though her life had been set up to fail. She had planned to push the rum away but now she could not. She raised it to her lips, taking a larg swig and feeling her eyes water and her throat burn.

She set it down and released it, dragging a knuckle over her eyes to relieve them of their stinging. She shivered and hugged herself, pulling her coat around her in the middle. She shook her head and muttered, "What a pair we make..."

Vito waved her comment off, “That, we have established, darling, though we never seem to act on it,” he replied, unable to keep himself from slipping into offense mode. Things weren’t going too well for Vito, despite the fact that he now rightfully owned Jack Dyllan; he knew he was supposed to act kindly towards Jack, though his brain ached dully from within his skull, sending signals to his throat, ordering it to generate the noise required to speak harsh words towards Jack, “You made a mistake choosing me over your friends. I am no friends of yours. We may share similar traits, but I assure you I am not someone you want to side with.” His words came out differently than he had planned them out in his mind; he had expected his voice to sound superior and threatening, but instead, his words had sounded flat and unimportant- which was the last thing Vito wanted. “Your behind enemy lines, darling,” he added, once again hoping that his voice would do as it was told- only to be disappointed when he had to look away from Jack in order to keep his expression from softening.

Perhaps it was the fact that she had nothing left but him- or maybe it was that look in her eyes that he had seen so many times in his own when staring off into the mirror… but whatever the reason, that feeling in his skin, the feeling that made him want to tear his skin from his bones in attempt to stop it from crawling, was the same. He wasn’t knew to the feeling- no, not at all- and therefore, had learned that it often happened when he was feeling a bit too dependent on someone, or grateful- they were emotions he could have very well lived his entire life without experiencing.

Had Jack Dyllan died before she had met him.

Yes, there were some moments when Vito pictured the redheads death, and how perfect his life would be had he never met her- but then there was always that feeling afterwards that made him snap out of it, that feeling that reminded him that Jack had been there for him on more than one occasion, regardless that it had been her fault he had needed her assistance in the first place.

“I see you’ve gotten yourself a drink,” Vito stated with an indifferent expression in place, “What made you decide that alcohol was worth drinking? I’ve seen you drunk, but I’ve also seen you pass up several opportunities to drink. Is it me? Hmmm? Do I push you to the point of drinking?” Vito was clearly enjoying himself, but the offensive tone he had spoken his words with towards the beginning of his words had slowly turned into a tone that made it clear he was joking; this was a tone both Jack and Vito had spoken in many times before during their banter.

Why couldn’t simple things stay simple? Maybe the gods got bored of watching people feel comfortable in one place and decided suddenly that it was time to stir thing up; throw in an Andrew and a Chase and you’ve got one hell of a mess- but it was an interesting mess if you were watching from afar, Vito was sure of it. Hell, anything including Vito was interesting- or, at least, in his opinion- but then again, that was probably because of his frequent mood swings.

“Why the hell do you like this booth so much?” Vito asked abruptly, glancing around at their table, as if it had just occurred to him that they always at in the same place- though he had, in fact noticed it many times before, he found constant questions worked as a good distraction from his troubled thoughts.

Jack listened to his harsh words, feeling just the way that they sounded; cold and empty. She knew that, in many ways, he was simply stating the facts, at least on the surface anyway. They were not friends. If you had to label what they were, enemies would in fact be closest to whatever the hell their relationship was. And she may have very well made a terrible mistake in choosing Vito and not her friends. But this was the problem.

Jack and Vito were not normal. Friendship was a little skewed when it came to them, because they did not tend to keep people close. And they were both amused by enemies, rather than constantly and consistently annoyed with them. And whether or not she had made a mistake... Well that was suggesting that Jack had chose the bad over the good, and at the moment, she had no idea what was good and what was bad. In a dead tone of voice that seemed to echo, she replied, "Yeah, well, we're going to revel in the flames or whatever right? Where better to do so, eh?"

He began to comment on her drink and she felt herself begin to raise her barriers and prepare herself so she could let the rude remark roll off her back as she stared away from him, but she heard the teasing hint of a tone creep into his voice and her eyes came to look at him, a smirk unfurling on her face. Ah, back to teasing and irritating each other, poking fun at each others faults. Back to normalcy, in other words.

"Oh yes," she said, in an overly serious voice that promised that she was being utterly sarcastic. "Every time I look into your face, I feel the overwhelming need to drown out my sorrow, because you just won't be my friend!" She raised her fist to her lips, closed her eyes and turned her head away as though she was so overcome with emotion that she could not face him.

She turned back to him and before she could smirk and confirm the joke he asked why she always chose this bench. Keeping a completely serious expression she said, "The imprint." She shifted and patted her seat, as though to say it was perfectly molded to her arse. She let out her barking laugh to relieve her from pretending to be serious. In truth, she preferred this booth because it reminded of her of the times when she had been weak and strong. The latter was encouragement, and the former was a warning. Either way, it was nice to be in familiar territory..

Despite the fact that Jack was being sarcastic, Vito couldn’t keep a feeling of joy from taking over him when she ‘admitted’ that it was he who had pushed her in the direction of the alcohol that she had just swallowed a bit of; the idea of being able to have such a negative effect on Jack thrilled Vito. His smirk was taken over by a smile, replacing his confident, self-absorbed expression with one that expressed genuine amusement- something that Vito hadn’t experienced in quite a deal of time, “I knew it,” he replied jokingly, resting one of his arms upon the table, with his chin in his palm as he looked at the female sitting on the opposite side of the table.

“I have that effect on people,” he added, rolling his eyes- it seemed it was impossible for Vito Dee Symons to go even a few seconds without showing some sort of sign of his over-confidence.

The music, it worked like medicine for Vito’s troubled mind, and he found himself tapping his foot underneath their table, the toe of his expensive shoe touching the smooth floor lightly, making a faint, almost inaudible tap-tap tap tap- tap. There was something about deafeningly loud music playing in Satin’s that made Vito feel as if he were the most powerful man on earth- and it was an overpowering feeling, no matter how many times he experienced it. Perhaps it was the smell of the nicotine in the air, too, the drugs, the alcohol- it was a brilliant mixture, adding on to the experience.

That had been the reason Vito had originally invested in his own club. He could remember the day he had walked into Satin’s- it hadn’t been named Satin’s then, of course, it had been a rather run-down place, actually, but Vito could still recall that overwhelming excitement he had felt upon entering the place. He had known from the very second his shoes had reached the hardwood floors that the club was his- that it had to be owned by Vito Dee Symons, or else the world would stop spinning altogether.

The poltergeist’s eyes began to wander about the crowd, scanning the place, flickering from one person to the next, as if he were remembering every face- every living being in his club. Most of them were regulars, but he could spot a few that he had never seen before in his life. What sort of control did the place have over all of those people? Vito could see it for himself when he looked at them; they were having the time of their lives, but it was almost as if they were being controlled by some greater force… like robots of some sort.

Or sinners controlled by guilt. Guilt which they drowned in alcohol.

Vito was a sinner- that much he knew, and could admit to with pride. He had committed more than his share of sins, and could continue on living without giving those sins a single thought. It was almost as if he couldn’t feel it. Something glinted in Vito’s eyes suddenly- a darkness, and a strange, twisted pride.

“They’re all sleepwalking,” he told Jack, glancing at her from out of the corner of his eyes , a knowing expression in place. “We are the only ones left in this place who can actually think for ourselves…” he added, his voice quiet, as if he were speaking to himself.

He averted his gaze, once again turning his attention towards the crowd- they were moving in slow motion, it seemed; dancing in the same repetitive motions, moving against each other, smiles produced by alcohol spread across their faces, “but I don’t want to be awake tonight,” Vito decided, breathing in another mouthful of the club’s poisoned air. “I’ve got drugs of all sorts upstairs. I own a bar stocked with plenty of my favorite wine. Music is blasting throughout my club. My- mine- its all mine…” his voice was nothing but a whisper at that point. He was speaking his thoughts aloud, that much was clear, and he had made up his mind; he would be forgetting everything tonight.

“I would love for you to join me, redhead,” Vito finished, turning his head in Jack’s direction so that he could lock eyes with her for a moment, egging her on silently with his sly smirk and his brown eyes full of promises of freedom & sin.

His club hadn’t been named “Satin’s” at random, after all…

Jack smirked at his words, even if she knew she was basically throwing gasoline onto the wildfire that was Vito's ego. At this point, she did not care. She was glad that they were just talking about meaningless things. He was not terrorizing her, nor was he lying through his teeth, nor trying to manipulate her. They were just speaking. The words themselves meant little to nothing. It was the simple act of something known and familiar and normal that mattered.

He stared out across the dance floor and Jack followed him. Though these people probably did things that Jack did not approve of, they did not deny what they were. That had always been Jack's problem with “good” people. They had faults, of course, but you would never hear them admit it. These people did, and they accepted them warmly. They were a lot of bad things, but they were not ignorant to what they were.

Jack turned her head at his words, finding she need to look at him to be able to discern what he was saying. He was glancing at her out of the corner of his eye as though trying to gauge her reactions. She nodded at his words and she looked at the people in the club. Well...even if they were asleep, they at least seemed to be having a good dream, because even if sorrow may be hiding behind their smiles, they still looked as though they were able to forget the pain for the night.

It seemed Vito was thinking the same thing, because he continued on, even though he spoke quietly, as though he did not want to include Jack in this. Honestly, she had no reservations about drinking enough to forget. She thought nothing of the drugs, because she did enjoy her free will, thank you very much. Putting that aside, she was ready to forget.

And it seemed that Vito was inviting her to do just that. He turned to her and she locked eyes with him, raising an eyebrow in her usual suspicious, yet sly, expression. “I would love for you to join me, redhead.” She stared at him, wondering what was going through his head and what he was trying to achieve. That was when she realized, she really did not care. The game had changed. She cocked her head slightly and said in a half-sincere, half-sarcastic voice, “I thought that was what I was doing.”

Though her answer had not been as simple as “yes” or “of course”, it was the answer he had been hoping for- and with a bit of her personality thrown into the mix as an added bonus! “Brilliant,” Vito responded, his dark eyes dancing mischievously. He wanted to light the world on fire- but he wanted Jack to help him do so; she had chosen him over those who cared for her, after all, and now she was his to play with.

“Fallow me,” it was a simple order, but it was also one that would make it clear that Vito wasn’t planning on spending the rest of his evening on the first floor of his club; the sinners could party on the first floor of hell, but their ruler wanted to have the entire second floor to himself in order to feel higher than the rest of them.

He flattened his palm against the table and pushed himself upward and out of the booth in one swift motion before straightening and beginning on his way towards the bar, which was surrounded by many. The bartender could be seen serving Vito’s customers the drinks he ordered, juggling bottles of whiskey to impress them- but when he caught sight of his approaching boss, one of the bottles came crashing to the hardwood floors. This got some laughs out of the drunk women he had been trying to impress, and an amused smirk out of Vito, “careful, if you ruin my floors, I ruin your face… again,” Vito threatened him in a rather lighthearted way, which almost had an eerie effect on the words he spoke.

He leaned forward against the bar table, his eyes scanning the bodies of the females that he found himself near, “Four bottles of my favorite wine,” Vito told his employee, averting his gaze to glance in the direction of the redhead he had only just walked away from; despite the fact that she had agreed to join him, Vito was feeling somewhat doubtful, and couldn’t help but wonder if she would fallow him once more.

She always fallowed him- but had he used up her curiosity? There relationship- whatever the hell that was- seemed to revolve around curiosity… so what would happen when Vito suddenly wasn’t interesting enough for Jack Dyllan? Vito snorted and rolled his dark brown eyes; he was the most interesting man to walk the face of the earth- he was sure of it, and therefore, it was not a possibility. Jack would fallow him as she always did. It was just the way things worked.

“Here you are, Vito,” the man working the bar spoke up, though his voice sounded somewhat uncertain, as if he had to be careful about the way he spoke, and the words he spoke, or else Vito would attack him- hell, he was probably right in doing so; Vito was like a lit bomb with all his mood swings. “Ah, good boy,” Vito praised him- though his tone sounded awfully sarcastic- and wrapped his fingers around the necks of two of the bottles, “Tell my redhead to bring the other two upstairs,” he called over his shoulder as he started up the spiral staircase that would lead him up to the second floor.

“Jackass…” the bartender muttered under his breath, kicking the shards of glass on the floor to the side so that he would not step on them later. If he was lucky, Vito would drink himself to death.

Jack had tried to read that expression, really tried, but the second her eyes locked on his, Vito was up and about, heading for the bar. She stared after him, his order ringing in his ears, and for once, she felt the strangest desire. It was normal in that it was to be spontaneous and unthinkable and that it made no sense to her. But it was strange in that never in the course of her lifetime, had this happened.

She thought about not following Vito. about simply leaving him to bound upstairs alone, to drink away his own sorrow and pain and to escape to her own home, where she could curl up and watch horror movies to calm herself down. She would, for once, do the safer thing and disentangle herself from this web of events that was sure to unravel into destruction and discord.

But here was the problem. Jack had never felt comfortable with safety. She had always felt more at ease not knowing what was going to happen, taking everything as it came at her. That was why she had always followed Vito. Even now, at the close of one of the worst days of her life, Jack was still Jack, even if in the most rudimentary form. And she would do anything to prove it to herself.

She stood and began to walk after him, but the bartender called her over, giving her a look full of contempt and loathing. It was bad enough to have to work for such a moody being such as Vito, she was sure. But it did not help that every time Jack was at Satin's, Vito always seemed a little more agitated.

"Those two are for you," he said, jerking a thumb at two wine bottles. "Lovely," she muttered to herself, carefully taking them. She gave the bartender an encouraging smile, which only seemed to piss him off more as he continued to try to regain his female audience. Most of them seemed to be staring at where Vito had just disappeared though, curiosity and lust written on a lot of there faces.

Their thoughts were interrupted by a short redhead pushing through their wake to try and reach the stairs. Jack could see the shocked looks she was receiving, because they were piecing together her appearance and Vito's comment. Yes they were putting two and two together and getting five, hence the jealous looks Jack was receiving. She was amused, rather than irritated, by this. Oh, if only they knew the full story. Would they be as jealous? No. Definitely not. She let out her barking laugh and climbed the stairs.

She reached the second floor and found the silence eerie and obtrusive. In comparison to the booming music below, and the general hubbub of noise, this silence was piercing and obnoxious. It made Jack's skin crawl as she walked down the hallway. She softly knocked on Vito's door with her toe, seeing as her hands were full, and then pushed her way inside using her hip.

She strode in, setting the bottles of wine down on the first surface she could see and turned to look at Vito, saying lightly, "Ah, the great migration..."

The mirror had been the first thing Vito had spotted upon entering his room- as always. It seemed to taunt him, and welcome him at the same time; come Vito, have you managed to keep your appearance perfected tonight? Vito felt his throat become rather dry as he paused in the doorway, gazing over at the mirror on the other side of the bedroom. He needed the wine he was holding loosely in both hands, that much was obvious to him.

When thoughts were bothersome, they had to be destroyed altogether.

Vito continued into the room, tossing his hair away from his face with a swift movement of his head, unable to run his fingers through his hair and comb it backwards, due to the glass bottles of alcohol. He dropped one of the bottles down on his bed, which had been made expertly, dressed in silk bedding, and took his place in front of the rectangular reflective glass.

“Your king of the world. King. King of the world…. King,” Vito’s lips moved slowly, though he was sure that he had not commanded his tongue to produce such words- they were true, sure, but he really shouldn’t have needed to reassure himself of this. Vito turned in a full circle in front of the mirror, his eyes never leaving his reflection; nothing seemed out of place. His figure was slim but well-built enough, his clothing was just as it had been when he had dressed for the party earlier that evening, his dark brown hair was away from his face, but was trimmed at the perfect length-

“Lovely,” Vito spoke, approving of himself- yes, he was happy with what he saw, and it only boosted his ego further, making him feel as if he had already gotten himself high and drunk, without touching a single cigarette or swallowing a drop of alcohol. It was a wonderful feeling.

"Ah, the great migration..." Vito wasn’t startled when she spoke, he was, however, slightly surprised to hear Jack’s voice behind him; he supposed some part of him hadn’t been able to let go of the idea of her walking out of the door of Satin’s and never looking back- which wouldn’t have been an improvement, nor a problem.

Laughter, it escaped Vito’s full lips despite his disapproval towards his laugh. It wasn’t that it sounded odd, or goofy- it just wasn’t a part of his little ‘mystery man’ act. He didn’t seem to dwell on this for much time at all, however, for he was far too interested in the mirror he stood before. He could see her standing behind him, not too far away from where he stood. She reflected off of the glass like he did, and the first thing his eyes had picked up on, were her eyes; they held that same glint of mischievousness that his did.

They had both accepted- or had come to an understanding, more like it- that they were quite alike, the two of them, but it still startled Vito sometimes when he saw proof of it, right there before him. “I feel more important being above all of them,” he admitted, though conversation didn’t really matter to him at the time; he was really only interested in drowning himself with alcohol, and watching Jack do the same. If they were so similar, he saw no reason for them not to break down in a similar way.

Vito reached forward, running a finger along one of the breaks that were still visible in the mirror’s glass, tracing the imperfection, “You’ll never guess who did this to my mirror,” he stated with a smirk, though he had no intentions of telling her who had, in fact, shattered his mirror; his goal was not to anger Jack, it was to treat her as an equal, build her hopes up, and then shatter her as the glass of his mirror had shattered when Chase Moor had been there last.

“Would you do the honors of opening the first bottle?” Vito asked, flicking an eyebrow upward; it seemed he was always daring Jack to do something, egging her on- but then again, that was one of the things their relationship depended upon. “That is, if you even know how.”