Xion's plan had been to get to the mall early. And not just the regular kind of early. The ridiculous, what-the-heck-was-I-even-thinking-?, now I have to go buy a coffee and scroll through my Instagram feed twelve times kind of early.
The plan had been to surprise Roxas. Roxas being her college roomie and favorite human bean and best friend since they split a grilled cheese and tomato sandwich in fifth grade.
"Hey bestie, I got a job next door to you and now we can hang out on our breaks and Christmas shop together and gossip about your SEXY NEW GINGER CRUSH and give each other rides home and chit chat and stuff."
Just, you know. Something along those lines, maybe.
Except Xion does not get to the mall early.
She was going to leave on time—really, she was—but then she started watching the second half of this Hallmark Christmas movie that she couldn't remember if she had seen before or not. And then, it was time to leave, but the movie wasn't quite over yet.
And Xion needed to know if the middle-aged, big city celebrity chef lady was going to stay with the smexy, small town cookie baker with the heart of gold that she used to date in high school, and thereby rediscover the magic of Christmas, or if she was going to go back to the gorgeous, but kind of boring, but definitely more financially secure, attorney she had been seeing back in NYC, who, footnote, plays the prince in a different Hallmark Christmas movie.
Also, Xion was all curled up on the couch of her parents' condo, nested in pillows and blankets, and her chubby black cat, Pete, was sitting on her lap, and he looked so peaceful, she didn't have it in her heart to disturb him.
Also, she hadn't quite finished her mug of tea.
So, by the time that the celebrity chef lady and the small town cookie baker had their tasteful yet disgustingly romantic first kiss during the first snowfall of the season, just after they had won the town's annual baking competition and donated the prize money to the local children's hospital, and Pete the Cat had deigned to move on to another part of the loveseat, and her tea was gone, it was well past when Xion should have left if she wanted to be the regular kind of on-time.
The best part of running late is that, because Xion is literally running, she does not have to exert as much effort as she usually does to force herself not to go into Hot Topic and buy half of the inventory.
The worst part of running late is, of course, the actual running, which is making itself known as the air enters her lungs with an unusual sharpness, and sweat glues her long-sleeved white blouse to the small of her back and the inside of her elbows.
The second worst part of running late is that she does not get to surprise Roxas.
And the third worst part of running late is that when she skids to a halt in the entrance of Claire's, her black combat boots squeaking like rubber ducks, and her breaths a bit heavy, nobody actually notices.
Xion lifts her phone from one of the pockets of her black denim overall mini-dress by its pink bunny ear attachment and checks the time.
Five minutes early.
"Fuck," Xion mumbles, and then slaps a hand over her mouth as a five-year-old trying to fit an entire candy cane in his mouth jostles her knee.
The new woman's wearing sheer black hose with black combat boots, under a short black dress with overall straps and a long-sleeved white blouse. Looped around her arm is a black handbag shaped like the head of a cat, with three yellow eyes. Her own dark eye make-up makes her eyes enormous.
She's nodding gently to a kiddo with half a candy cane in its mouth, who is animatedly explaining to her what kind of dinosaur it wants to be when it grows up.
Sizing the new young woman up as he, Larxene, and Marly approach, Axel can't help but think Saïx will be a little disappointed Hot Topic didn't nab her first. She's so on-brand, it hurts a little. Axel's half waiting for her to welcome him to Night Vale.
Then again, he sees why Marly called dibs.
Aside from a short, choppy black bob that would have looked more at home in the flapper era, she is every inch Kairi 3.0.
She has, objectively speaking, the world's softest smile. She's short and slender, her face too thin and heart-shaped, her skin the kind of pale that doesn't tan. Although, unlike Kairi's 1 and 2, he can still see a smear of hastily applied sunscreen thumbed across one cheek.
"I'd want to be an Apatosaurus," the new employee replies in a soft voice to the kid without prompting. "Maybe we could be herbivore friends, is—" She pauses, eye catching on someone in the crowd. "Is that your mommy looking for you?"
The Claire's newbie turns the child by the shoulder.
A relieved looking woman with another two kids hanging on either arm, alongside at least four shopping bags, hustles over to corral the third one, offering Newbie a grateful smile.
Think I just met your soulmate, Axel will text Naminé later that day. How'd you feel about a pastel goth? Naminé will send back seventeen question marks in response and not receive a reply.
"Over here."
Marly waves Newbie over to Axel and Larxene. They have paused near Axel's piercing station, just beside the shop window, only a few feet away from the mouth of Claire's, so that Marly can continue to monitor the traffic trickling in and out while they chat.
"You've gotta be kidding me," Larxene mutters to Axel as she catches sight of the approaching Newbie. Larxene's obviously seeing what Axel saw because her eyes get bigger and her lips twitch—whether in disdain or amusement, he can't tell.
Axel nods his reluctant agreement. "Think you're outdone yourself this time, Marly."
"Her hair is completely different than Kairi's…" Marly argues, scowling as Larxene playfully swats his arm.
"That's the only thing." Larxene takes another long look at Newbie. "What are you and Vexen growing these things in a lab or something?"
The heavy electronic beat of the club overtakes the hum of Christmas music, and Axel's nostrils fill with the sickening sweetness of e-cigarette smoke instead of vanilla bean.
The gaunt face of the med student with his pin-straight, platinum blond hair materializes in Axel's mind's eye, his pale, narrow lips curling up as if at the tail end of yet another condescending remark.
Axel winces, hisses, "Larxene, really?" His gaze shifts to Marly, concerned. It's difficult to imagine what's whirling through his head. Axel's not sure if Marly never told Larxene what happened between him and Vexen; if it slipped her mind; or if she's just 100% that bitch.
Marly's own smile has evaporated, but not his composure. His posture remains sure and confident as ever, though his arms cross with an air of impatience. "Now's hardly the time for this conversation."
Axel makes yet another mental note to ask Marly when he last went out with somebody. Axel and Marly aren't exactly best friends. In fact, he's not sure Marly would bless him with basic human interaction at all if Marly and Saïx weren't so close, and they are so close—a gardening club of two, high-end fashion snobs, closet The Bachelor addicts.
Axel and Marly, not so much. So, ordinarily, Axel would mind his own, but under the circumstances, he might be the only man for the job.
If Larxene doesn't know what happened between Marly and Vexen, and Saïx definitely doesn't know what happened… that just leaves him. He's not exactly Mr. Matchmaker, but he supposes he could give it a whirl.
Larxene doesn't miss the tension that passes between her two favorite coworkers, and she rolls her eyes. "Axel needs to get over it already."
"You don't know what you're talking about," Axel counters, tone gone hard, cold, hoping she'll drop it, if she realizes the wound is still fresh. Which it is—it's just not him bleeding.
"Everybody knows, Axel." Larxene plants her hands on her hips. She leans closer, in his face. "You and Saïx and Marly and Vexen went out and drank too much. You flirted with Marly's date all night long and then got pissed when he made a pass at you. Saïx found out, so you blamed everything on Vexen, and now he's fired. How'm I doing?"
She reaches out to rap her knuckles against Axel's chest. "Because if you're not careful, you're going to wind up doing the same damn thing to your new buddy boy."
Axel grits his teeth, something burning in his chest. Months. It's been months. He thought the worst of this was done with. Leave it to Larxene to dredge it up.
No wonder she'd gotten in such a snit about Roxas.
"Well, you seem to know what you're talking about." Axel's just as tempted to tell her everything as he is to tell her off. She'd feel like shit if she knew. She would understand.
But it's not his place.
This isn't the response she'd been expecting. Her confidence slips for a second. "Am I wrong?"
Marly steps between them. He places a hand on Larxene's shoulder, "Shut," a hand on Axel's, "up."
Marly doesn't look like he's hurting, there's no pout to his lip, no wild, injured animal wideness to his eyes, but the command in his voice is sharp and the grip on Axel's arm is firm and insistent. Hurt doesn't always look the same on everybody.
The message is clear. Keep your mouth shut, Axel. You promised you would.
Axel can't help but glare at Marly, Marly stares back, wearily. Realizing how misdirected his anger is, Axel's expression softens. He covers Marly's hand with his own, and smirks at Larxene. "None of your business, babe."
Ordinarily, this would make her absolutely explode, but with Marly grounding her shoulder and the approaching Newbie stopping just in front of her, Larxene becomes painfully aware that she's standing in the middle of Claire's in a goddamn flower crown.
Larxene blinks at Axel, the kind of calm that's too calm, the eye of a storm. "Fine. Sorry I brought it up."
Marly's hand loosens on Axel's shoulder. There's something in his nod like gratitude. Axel wishes it made him feel better. Doing the right thing really sucks.
They shift their attention to the new recruit whose wide blue eyes scream: SOS. What the fuck did I sign on to?
Which honestly sounds about right to Axel. God, forget Kairi. This is Roxas all over again.
"I'm so sorry if I'm interrupting…!" Newbie exclaims too quickly in her quiet voice. Her lips halt in an apologetic pout and her hands clutch tightly at the strap of her alien cat head handbag.
Axel and Larxene both sigh and ease out of their locked glares, but the air still feels a bit thick, almost staticky with tension. Frozen's "Let It Go" seems to be playing six times as loud as it should be.
"Not at all," Marly says, but it doesn't come out sincere enough for anybody's taste.
Xion had certain expectations about what her coworkers at Claire's would be like: bubbly, chatty, smiley females, maybe a little shallow, maybe a little dumb. Maybe she had been stereotyping. Maybe she had watched one too many Christmas movies. Maybe she's jumping to conclusions.
Watching the trio in front of her, flower crowns settled in their vibrant hair, bickering in quiet tones dripping with sarcasm, almost launching into a full on, fist-clenched argument as Queen Elsa belts her heart out overhead, Xion is not sure whether she wants to laugh or cry.
But then the crazy tall one with his wild red mane and the well-dressed, The Rock level muscle-y one with the pink hair that had seemed so nice and pleasant when he interviewed her and talked to her earlier—Marluxia—seem to come to some kind of abruptly tender understanding. So, the angry blonde chick seems to reign in her temper.
And that makes Xion feel just a smidge better about things. She's a sucker for a happy ending.
And at least they didn't realize she was late.
But then all three of them turn, these expressive, snide, emotionally-charged Claire's people, and they are looking right at her, their neatly manicured brows raised in question.
Xion feels a little bit like she had day one, back in the middle school cafeteria, before Roxas had offered her a seat and a half of his grilled cheese sandwich, looking out at the strangers, wondering which sharks to throw herself to. The strangers looking back up at her, wondering what the hell the new kid who hadn't said a word all day was going to do now.
Fuck.