Warlock Ch 23. Life Gets Messy Sometimes
When he stepped outside, Evelyn was waiting for him, leaning casually against a lamppost. She looked up as he approached, her expression calm but curious.
"All set?" she asked.
Damian nodded, adjusting the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. "Yeah, mostly. Next stop is the bar. I need to resign."
Evelyn fell into step beside him as they started walking down the street. "You could've just sent an email, you know. Seems easier."
Damian glanced at her, his phone in hand as he texted the owner. "I know. But it's not that simple. The owner's a good guy. He gave me the job when I really needed it, helped me out when I had nothing. I owe him more than just a quick email."
Evelyn didn't say anything at first, just nodded, understanding. She could see how much this place—and the people in Damian's life—meant to him. She knew he was walking away from a life that had been comfortable, safe, and familiar. And yet, he was still stepping into the unknown because he didn't have a choice.
Damian's phone buzzed, and he glanced down at the message. "He's in his office at the bar. Guess I'll get to do this face to face."
They walked in silence for a few blocks, the familiar sights of Haven City feeling strangely distant now. The bar was just a few streets away, but it felt like he was walking toward the end of something, not just another errand.
When they arrived at the bar, it was quiet. It wasn't surprising—he knew this time of day was slow. The usual rush wouldn't hit until later in the evening. Damian pushed open the door, the familiar scent of wood and spilled beer filling the air. The place felt different now, though. Like it wasn't his anymore.
Evelyn stayed by the door, giving him space, while Damian made his way toward the back. The office door was slightly ajar, and he knocked softly before stepping inside.
The owner, a friendly middle-aged man named Frank, looked up from his desk, his brow furrowing slightly when he saw Damian. "Damian, what's going on? You never come this early."
Damian shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair. "Hey, Frank. I, uh... I need to talk to you about something."
Frank leaned back in his chair, his expression concerned. "Is this about last night? I heard there was a bit of trouble outside. If those thugs are giving you a hard time, you know I've got your back. I can make some calls."
Damian shook his head quickly. "No, no, it's not that. Well, kind of, but it's more complicated than that."
Frank's confusion deepened, but he stayed silent, waiting for Damian to continue.
Damian took a deep breath, the words heavy on his tongue. "I need to resign, Frank. I... I can't work here anymore."
Frank stared at him for a long moment, his brow furrowed even deeper now. "Resign? Damian, what are you talking about? Is this because of those guys last night? Because if they're threatening you—"
"It's not just about that," Damian interrupted, shaking his head. "It's... complicated. There's a lot going on right now, and I just can't keep working here. I've got some things I need to take care of."
Frank studied him for a few more seconds, his expression softening with concern. "You've never been the kind of guy to just walk away from a problem. Are you sure this is what you want to do? I don't want you to leave because you're scared or being pushed into something."
Damian smiled faintly, but he couldn't explain the truth. Not in a way that Frank would understand. "It's not like that. Trust me. I've just... got stuff I need to deal with. Big stuff. And I can't do it while working here."
Frank let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Alright. If you're sure, then I won't try to talk you out of it. But if you ever need anything—anything at all—you know where to find me."
Damian felt a lump rise in his throat, the weight of Frank's words hitting harder than he expected. "Thanks, Frank. For everything. You've been more than just a boss to me. You've helped me out more times than I can count."
Frank stood up, walking over and clapping a hand on Damian's shoulder. "You're like a son to me, Damian. I hate to see you go, but I get it. Life gets messy sometimes. Just don't forget that you've always got a place here if you need it."
Damian nodded, his throat tight. He hadn't realized how hard this would be, saying goodbye to the place that had been his second home. "Thanks, Frank. I'll miss this place."
Frank reached into his desk drawer and pulled out an envelope, handing it to Damian. "Here. This is your paycheck for the month."
Damian shook his head, pushing the envelope back. "You don't have to do that. I didn't even finish the month."
"I insist," Frank said firmly, pressing the envelope into Damian's hand. "I don't know what kind of trouble you're in, but you've never acted like this before. You're a good kid. I know you'll get through whatever's going on."
Damian swallowed hard, nodding as he pocketed the envelope. "Thanks. I'll... I'll figure it out."
As he turned to leave, Frank called out after him. "Take care of yourself. And don't be a stranger."
Damian looked back, giving Frank a tight smile. "I'll try."
He walked out of the office and back into the quiet bar, his heart heavier than before. Evelyn was waiting for him by the door, watching him.
"How'd it go?" she asked quietly.
Damian exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "It's done. He took it better than I expected."
Evelyn nodded, her expression soft. "It's hard, saying goodbye to people who care about you."
"Yeah," Damian muttered, glancing around the bar one last time. "I didn't realize how much I was leaving behind."
Evelyn stepped closer, her voice gentle. "You're not leaving everything behind. You're stepping into something new. But that doesn't mean you forget where you came from."
Damian stared at her for a moment, taking in her words. She was right, but it didn't make it any easier. He was saying goodbye to a life he could never get back.
With one last look at the bar, Damian turned and walked out the door, knowing that everything was about to change. The familiar creak of the door closing behind him felt final, like the last page of a chapter in his life.