Las Vegas - September 27
Turnberry Towers“So, why didn’t David come back with us?” Aron asked as he and Kristjan stepped off of the elevator and to the floor that they called home. David had called Kristjan earlier in the day to meet him for dinner at the Truth & Tonic restaurant on the Las Vegas Strip, within the famed Venetian Hotel. Aron had resigned himself to a quiet evening in, maybe ordering some takeout and playing with Kyssa and Chestnut, but his brother and his man had other ideas. Kristjan had surprised him by telling him to kindly “get his ass ready” because he was joining the two for the evening out. Aron had tried to decline because he didn’t want to be a third wheel on one of his brother’s dates, but surprise, surprise. It was like talking to a brick wall as both Kristjan and David insisted he go with them in order to get out of the condo for a night.
How is THAT for irony? Kristjan was normally the homebody and here he and his boyfriend had to drag Aron - the sociable one - out for a night on the (in)famous Las Vegas Strip.
Kristjan walked up to the door, one of three on this floor of the building, key in hand and he answered, “No. David is meeting Esther and Andrey back at their place so no…”
“Please don’t finish that sentence.” Aron joked, earning for himself a sidelong glance that Kristjan had seemingly perfected over the years. “So go find a movie or something and I’ll order something.”
“Damn, K!” Aron quipped as his brother used his key to unlock the door to their place. “You just cleaned out that vegetarian buffet and you’re STILL hungry?”
“I’m a growing boy!”
“Yes but at this rate, you’ll grow out.” Aron smiled. “Not up.”
“Shut up.” Kristjan said plainly as he placed a hand on Aron’s back and shoved him through the open door and into their condo, stepping in after him.
Aron knew the way well enough, even in the dark as his palm slid across the flat switch against the wall, casting the interior with a golden illumination. Aron walked further inside as his brother took the usual precaution of locking the door and ensuring that it was secure. Aron stepped through the foyer and into the living room where he looked toward the small pet playpen where he had left the kitten he had rescued only days before. He had half expected to see the kitten curled up on the small bed he had purchased for it, but what he saw instead had him choke back a cross between a laugh and a sound of adoration.
“What the hell are you just standing here for…” Kristjan started to ask him as he began to brush past him, but stopped cold when his eyes fell on the exact same sight that had brought Aron to a stop…
Inside the playpen, the kitten wasn’t alone. Kristjan’s beloved Kyssa had somehow climbed her way inside and laid down, and there the kitten was - nursing on the Siberian Husky as if it were her puppy. His paws “making biscuits” on her soft underbelly as kittens (and puppies) were known to do.
Now it was Aron’s turn to look toward his brother from the corner of his eye, half expecting him to erupt at any moment. But instead, Kristjan was as silent as the stone, staring at what was happening in front of him, his jaw almost touching the floor.
“K?” Aron started to speak up but Kristjan just turned the other way and walked toward his personal bar across the living room, obviously and desperately in need of a drink.
Las Vegas - September 29
Turnberry TowersKristjan watched, shaking his head as Aron slid off of the sofa in their living room to take a seat on the floor. Scattered about on the sofa as well as their coffee table was a large bag with the Petsmart emblem, stuffed to the brim with things that he had just returned from the store with, and all for the small feline that had seemed to integrate itself into his little brother’s heart over the past near two weeks.
"I don't know why you're bothering buying all of that." Kristjan stated as he stood behind the sofa, his arms resting on the back. He watched as Aron, seated cross-legged on the floor, gently pushed a plastic ball with a bell inside toward the kitten who sat on its hind end, watching the toy with wide, curious eyes. Of course, the sound of the 'dingle ball' didn't just attract the attention of the four week old kitten. Kyssa, who HAD been sound asleep on Kristjan's personal chair, was watching the goings on attentively. Not just because of the noise that the ball was making - but because her eyes were on the kitten itself. Much to her master’s chagrin, it would seem that his “baby girl” was treating this kitten that was barely a month old as if it were her own pup.
Chestnut, as Aron had affectionately named him, raised a paw as if to playfully attack his plastic antagonist, when Kristjan spoke, "Are you planning on giving all of this shit to whoever takes him?"
And almost instantaneously, Aron's back straightened and his shoulders grew tense. His voice remained low but his words were clear as day, "You're seriously going to do this, aren't you?"
"Do what?" Kristjan demanded, standing up straight.
“You know what I’m talking about.” Aron replied, looking back over his shoulder at him. “You’re really not going to let me keep him, are you?”
“Oh for fuck’s sake…” Kristjan rolled his eyes as he turned away from the scene and started to walk away but Aron’s voice gave him pause as he said further, “You are seriously going to make me give him away!”
“Okay…!” Kristjan knew that this was coming, ever since Aron had picked that kitten up at the park. He turned back around to pick up this gauntlet that his brother was ready to throw right down at his feet. He braced his hands on the back of the sofa, his arms straight, and looked him dead in the eye with a raised brow. He asked, “Can we not paint me as the villain of the picture this time? Granted, I’ve more than earned my time in that particular spotlight but I warned you from day one that we were not keeping that thing!”
Aron said nothing. He just stared at Kristjan until his older brother felt compelled to continue, “I knew damn well that you were going to grow too attached.”
“Well of COURSE I grew attached!” Aron responded with just a touch of heat to his words. “How could I not!? He was riddled with fleas! Malnourished! Sick! If I hadn’t brought him home from the vet, chances are they would have put the little guy down! I stayed up all hours washing him and feeding him and making sure to get those meds down him!”
“I know you did, A.” Kristjan found himself smiling, proud of his brother’s efforts to care for that little animal. Aron’s love for animals rivaled his own and under any other circumstance, he long believed his brother would have made an outstanding veterinarian. He went on, “And I have to admit that had you not taken care of him, I would have been tempted to do it myself.” He then shook his head. “But I never would have kept him.”
“Why not?”
“Because I hate cats!” Kristjan stated forcefully. “I always have! Even those two that mom had when we were kids! But they were mom’s, and it was her house!”
“And this is your place.” Aron stared at him, it being more of a factual statement rather than a question. One in which Kristjan answered with a slight shrug of indifference and a nod of the head. Aron scoffed back a laugh and turned back away from him, stating, “I was wondering when that would get brought up again.”
“What are you talking about?” Kristjan asked, genuinely confused at the sudden change in direction that the conversation was turning. “When what gets brought up again?”
“Oh I don’t know.” Aron said as he pushed himself up to his feet and turned around to confront him face to face. “Maybe how you paid for this place so it’s your home and it’s your way or the highway?”
“Well, A…” Kristjan held his arms out. “I did pay for this place.”
“Yeah.” Aron nodded. “Funny though, isn’t it? How when everything is going perfectly here then it’s our home? But when something is up that you want no part of, suddenly it’s your home and you paid for it so you have final say?”
“I never said that!” Kristjan started to deny but he didn’t have much chance as Aron replied hotly, “You say it all the time! Especially when it comes to my wanting to keep Chestnut! You hate cats and since it’s your place paid for by your money, it’s your way and ONLY your way! Now I’m going to have to give the little guy to a shelter!”
“Ariana said she and Francisco would adopt him!” Kristjan replied, to which Aron responded, “Catch up, K! They found a cat in their driveway and ended up adopting it instead!”
“And that’s MY fault!?” Kristjan fought back. “I told you to give them the cat but you were holding out in hopes I’d change my mind!”
“I was holding out trying to keep him alive!” Aron finally raised his voice to a near shout, all but taking his brother’s words away. In all of their years as siblings, Kristjan could legit not remember a single time where Aron yelled at him. Not like this.
Aron went on, “All I wanted was something in this place that I could call my own! You know, aside from the bills and the chores…”
“I pay the bills!” Kristjan contested, to which Aron replied, “Your funds pay for them but who sends them in? Who does all the cleaning between the days when the cleaning lady shows up!? When you’re hungry, who places the calls!? First I manage your career and now I apparently manage your household!”
“I pay you to be my manager, A!” Kristjan fought blindly with reason, but it did him little good as Aron jabbed a finger to his own chest and shouted back, “But you don’t pay me to take care of this place! And you sure as hell don’t lift a finger around here! You go to the gym and you wrestle and that’s the extent of your contribution to your own home! Everything else is on MY shoulders!”
Kristjan again tried to intervene but Aron was on a roll and he talked right over his older brother’s protests, “I’m a college graduate who speaks three languages and look at me now! A housekeeper to my big brother! And in all these years I have never asked you for anything - EVER! But the one time I do ask you for something? You tell me no.”
Aron shook his head and then turned and walked toward the door, prompting Kristjan to call after him, “Where are you going?”
“Out!” Aron said simply. He grasped the door handle and jerked it open, turning back to Kristjan to say, “I’ll ask Gabriel if he can watch over Chestnut until I can find a place of my own.”
“What…?” Kristjan started to protest but ended up with the door slammed right in his face.
Fenris stood in front of the camera; his back to one of the rings housed within the GO Gym, the very same facility that successfully transitioned him from a feared MMA fighter, to a dangerous hybrid between that world and that of professional wrestling. He was wearing his traditional white; his favorite ball cap, a leather jacket zipped up to the neck, and his usual white, latex shorts that he would often compete in.
“I’ll have to be honest, I thought I had wrestled just about everyone in SCW, whether they were relatively important or … not. I’ve been in the ring against current champions, former champions, curtain jerkers and guys who have strived to reach the level of Main Event but just barely allows for it to slip out of their grasp. I’ve been put up against guys who spent years honing their craft and their bodies to the point that they were legit threats to everyone that set foot inside of the ring with them, right up to the sad fact I’ve faced men that really had no goddamn business being inside of the ring, let alone sharing the same space as me!”
“Ben Jordan. Mac Bane. Austin James Mercer. Casey Williams. Jack Washington. Senor Vinnie. Alex Jones. Caleb Storms. If I didn’t say your name, don’t come bitching because I have other things, other people, on my mind. You name them, I’ve faced them. Some have beaten me, but more often than not, I’m cocky and confident enough to say I’m the one who walked away the winner. So how - how then, did one name who I already respected manage to slip past me undetected? How is it that you and I have never met inside of the ring before – Miles Kasey?”
Fenris motioned a finger between himself and the camera, his cobalt blue eyes burning into the viewer.
“I mean, how did I ever miss this chance? It seemed like for years, ever since you first showed your face in an SCW ring and on social media we had this healthy little competition over…”
Fenris proceeds to reach up and unzip his jacket, opening it all of the way up to showcase his rock-solid abs. He smirks in that way that would make even those that love him want to slap him silly, while waving a hand over that eight pack.
“We’ve had our words, our silly proclamations over who has the better abs, the better thighs - whatever. That’s just talk. And up until now, that’s as far as it’s ever gone between us, Miles. Funny how that worked out. Either the higher ups also made the same mistake in thinking that we’d already met inside of the ring and we put on such a piss poor performance that they never wanted to witness it again…”
He snorted back a laugh, holding up a hand to stall for a moment.
“Sorry. Like THAT would ever be a possibility! Or the other option is that for some, unexplained reason - they didn’t want us in the same ring. At least not until they saw more money making opportunities, and I suppose you winning the Roulette Championship was all the reason that they were looking for. Funny that, because when this match was first signed, it was for that unique championship that you just won and deservedly so. Yes, I said it! But see, here’s the thing. I like you Miles. There! I said it. I like you, and that is one of two reasons why I had Aron negotiate the terms of our match to make sure that it is contested as a non title match.”
He nodded.
“Yes, I am aware of the irony in my demanding such a thing because when I was the World Champion? I hated the very idea of a champion, any champion, being in a match where their championship wasn’t on the line! To me, the very idea was unthinkable because if a champion is fighting, then their championship SHOULD be at stake! Yet – here we are. My wanting this to be a non-title match because I like you too much to take that championship off of you so quickly. And the other reason? Well, if I am going to be perfectly blunt - I hate the roulette division. Oh I can see the appeal for the fans and those that thrive in it, competing under the “expect the unexpected” routine, but the closest thing to a cage that I want to be in is a Lion’s Den, and that’s it! You saw what happened when they tried to stick me in a fucking pudding match! I. Refused! Barbed wire? Ladder matches?”
He shook his head.
“Sorry, but that is not what I consider actual wrestling or competition. So I want nothing to do with that division, or the championship that reigns atop of it. And contrary to my nature Miles, I am not saying this to offend or to ‘throw shade’ in hopes of pissing you off and luring you in. I am just saying it because I believe you deserve a reason why I didn’t want to challenge you for your championship.”
“Now here is another piece of truth you deserve to hear Miles. Under most circumstances, I’m the sort where my respect for a fighter has to be earned inside of the ring. It’s how I measure the fighting spirit of a man. Not by watching them fight anyone else on the screen. But by how they fare inside of the ring against me! I can see the man outside of the ring and respect him as a person, but it is the fighter that I am up against, not the man. Usually. Then, there is you. I respected you long before I was given this chance to meet you in the ring. I was right there, watching you when you struggled. I watched you at your highs and lows, at your best and your worst. But even if your record at the time wasn’t at its very best? You never gave up. You dusted yourself off and tried again, fighting harder than ever before. Each and every time. And what do you know? Not even a month ago and all that effort, all of those hopes and dreams paid off, and you finally became a champion!”
He clapped his hands together genuinely, not with any trace of sarcasm.
“And I can honestly say that it’s about fucking time! Everything about you, Miles? Respect! You remind me in a way of another man that fought tooth and nail to rise up from the ashes, and he tasted success as well. A man I am honored to consider one of my favorite opponents because he always had the balls to fight me the way I WANT to be fought! Caleb Storms. And believe me when I tell you that drawing that comparison is a compliment by my eyes. But this isn’t about Caleb. It’s about you. It’s about us. It’s about you and I showing the world why this match should never have taken so long to have been made official. So good luck, Miles.”
“Now let’s fuck some shit up!”
Las Vegas - September 29
Turnberry TowersGabriel had talked some sense into him - mostly. Aron had driven all the way to the Stevens’s house to ask them not only to hold onto Chestnut for a short time for him, but to also ask them to help him in finding an affordable place of his own to rent where he could keep the kitten that had captured his heart all-too easily. Gabriel agreed that he would take in the kitten temporarily, but he also suggested Aron think things over as far as moving out went. The world knew that Fenris and Aron were a package deal. What’s more, Fenris and Aron knew it.
Aron had confided to Gabriel everything that he had said in anger to his brother earlier in the day, and every word that he said? He meant. That was why Gabriel told him to head back home and give it some time before he even considered breaking up the tandem of the Brothers Baltasarsson. Despite the desire to have something of his own, Gabriel was smart enough to know that separating the two of them would do more harm than good. But he just didn’t quite phrase it that way. Gabriel had grown to know these two young men, having trained both and having them as a part of his life and his makeshift family since 2018. He could read people, so he simply suggested time be allowed for things to cool down, and then perhaps Aron could broach the subject once again before doing anything rash.
He simply needed to talk to the man that was seen by many as being almost impossible to talk to. Of course, what Aron didn’t know was that Kristjan had also contacted him earlier today, almost right after Aron had stormed out. And student and teacher, and friends, had what was a surprisingly eye opening and personal discussion on the matter at hand.
By now, it was well past eight in the evening, Aron had eaten out and privately/bitterly wondered if Kristjan had found some way to master the phone long enough to order his own dinner without him there to take care of it for him. Aron entered the condo and the lights were on, as was the television, and as he walked past the foyer and into the main living area, he was caught by surprise; not by the sight of his brother sitting there in his preferred chair, beer in hand and watching ‘Halloween Kills’ on their TV - that was the norm. But the fact that there were more Petsmart bags scattered throughout the entrance of their home.
Correction - Kristjan's home.
Aron silently walked closer to one large bag in particular and peeked inside, spotting some sort of pet drinking fountain stuffed inside. Another bag held more toys, while another had certain things such as brushes and claw trimmers for the grooming care of a pet. On the bar counter that separated their dining room and the small kitchen were stacks of canned cat food fit for a kitten’s dietary requirements. Aron was totally and thoroughly confused as he looked around and almost laughed when he saw the large box for a cat tower set upright against the far wall.
“K?” Aron started to say, and was rewarded with a distracted, “Hm?” for an answer as his brother’s undivided attention was on the screen in front of him.
“What’s going on?” Aron asked, to which Kristjan replied, “Jamie Lee Curtis is about to kick some ass…”
“No.” Aron said louder, finally prying his brother’s eyes away from the screen where Michael Myers was massacring a mob and onto him. “This!”
“What?” Kristjan asked again, to which Aron pointed from one thing to another. “This! That’s enough cat food to last months! And… the toys? The tower?”
Kristjan turned idly back away from Aron to resume his movie watching, saying casually, “If you’re going to keep him, you need to take care of him.”
Aron stared at his brother, then his eyes shifted toward the small pen where Chestnut was sleeping comfortably in the bed, while Kyssa was stretched out along the edge, as if acting the role of silent guardian.
Kristjan spoke casually, “He pisses on anything, I’m rubbing your nose in it.”
Aron closed his eyes and smiled. Sometimes it seemed as if he knew everything there was to be known about his brother, and yet he still would find a way to surprise you. Aron shook his head and opened his eyes, asking, “What changed your mind?” But he only got a brief, silent stare in his direction for an answer.
It was obvious; he didn’t want him to leave.
Aron couldn’t help himself, “Thank you.” Earning a brotherly “Shut up.” for a reply.
Aron walked around the back of the sofa to go change in his room before he joined the movie watching, when Kristjan's hand shot out and grabbed him by the arm, stopping him. He held out a folded piece of paper and offered it over to him, his eyes never leaving the TV.
Aron accepted it, but asked, “What is it?”
“Just sign it.” Was the only answer Kristjan deigned to give him. Aron slowly opened the paper up and read it … it was the lease to this condo.
And Kristjan had added his name to it.
