Ĉђąρτεŕ Tεη » ßσíłεđ Ĉħσçσłăŧε
Boiled: (adj.) Vaporised liquid via applied heat.
Chocolate: (noun) A preparation of seeds from the cacao fruit, roasted, husked and ground, often sweetened and flavoured.
Boiled Chocolate: (noun) Your Daily Caffeine Fix figure of speech equivalent to 'hot water'. Example: "You're in boiled chocolate now, sucka."
"Give the poor bastard a break. And maybe some pie."
It wasn't really normal of Leon to walk into The Fix a few hours behind schedule. In fact, it wasn't really normal of Leon to walk into The Fix a few minutes behind schedule. Especially on Sundays. Today was an exception as he walked in something like a hundred and twenty minutes late. Of course, that wasn't to say he didn't get up early. Actually, he woke up extraordinarily early for a man his age due to the fact that at the unreasonable hour of around five in the morning, a text message from his beloved girlfriend, Rinoa Heartilly, roused him from his most peaceful slumber and consequently sent him into a vicious state of mourning.
He was late because said text message went as follows:
Squally! irvy, zell & selph r having a wicked party on tues nite.
also, it's over. met someone new yesterday. from the starbucks near the fix.
he has a WEIRD name. seifer almasy. i think u know him.
i'll get him to return you your ring.
xoxo Rinny.
Now, despite the somewhat lengthy message being written in such a vaguely obnoxious and exasperating (not to mention disturbingly endearing) way—which gave Leon the impression that he'd actually been going out with an illiterate bebop hippie with a lot of cash and a dog named Angelo—the man surprisingly still had the strength and heart to fling his phone out his open window, hear it crash three storeys below, bury his head in his pillow and wrap himself in a large cocoon of disbelief, heartache, despair and overall general angst.
So, that morning, after staring at himself for an eon in his foggy bathroom mirror and having a ridiculously sloppy breakfast consisting of semi-cooked eggs, cold watered-down camomile tea and a quarter jar of crunchy peanut butter (half of which managed to get all down his shirt for some reason), Leon quasi-pathetically made his way to the wonderful coffee bar in which he proudly owned, doing something like 20mph all the way there in his very-cool Volvo (which caused quite a lot of noise pollution and several minor road accidents to ensue somewhere in the vicinity of the Immediate Surrounding Area). The weather seemed to reflect his current mood because it was dark, gloomy and drizzling this morning. And trust me, dark, gloomy and drizzling almost never happened in Twilight Metropolis.
Leon was late. He knew he was late. Why was he late, you ask? Because Cloud Strife was already there at the coffee bar. And well, Cloud Strife was supposedly always and forever late.
In short, Squall 'Leon' Leonhart was pretty damn late.
And sometime during his excruciatingly slow drive to The Fix, he single-handedly figured to himself that he wasn't going to that aforementioned party on Tuesday night.
Cloud was not entirely surprised to find himself the first person at the bar that morning. Of course, he knew he was given the right to open up on Sunday (and Monday) mornings (a task which he rarely managed to accomplish because usually, Leon or Axel would get there first). However, in an unexpectedly bold (and perhaps largely unintelligent) move, the blond had come in at least ten minutes early on this day. Unusual for the barista, sure. But something niggling at the back of his mind told him to come down ahead of time. And he figured, if Leon could see him in action, doing his job well and proper, then that would be a major plus, too. Right?
If he'd only known just how much his next few hours would be similar to someone dropping an anvil on his head and mashing his face in with a boot (at the exact same time), he would've turned up maybe a couple of days, maybe weeks, late. But hey, he wasn't Agnes Nutter. Neither was he Philip J. Fry. Which meant Cloud was pretty much going to suffer horribly on this day, for the cosmic universe was nigh against him in considerably epic proportions.
He glanced up. The clock on the wall said:
8:13.
Actually, it was nine-twenty in the morning. It was only 8:13 due to the fact that the clock on the wall hadn't worked since day two of the bar's grand opening half a year ago. No one had ever bothered replacing the four double-A batteries for six months now. And well, let's face it, no one will bother for a long time to come.
The radio was softly crooning the lyrics to Die Alive by Tarja.
Every moment and its memory, not only to survive: to die alive.
Strangely, Cloud's only thoughts circling in his head were whether Tarja could beat Anette in a fair fight.
Okay, not quite. Cloud was currently wondering why he was still the only person at the bar. He knew the kids came in a little later at around noon. But his boss should've been here two hours ago and Axel wasn't usually tardy (okay, maybe he was, but still, two hours late, for crying out loud!). Something serious must've cropped up, the blond told himself sensibly. The more realistic part of his brain, however, was telling him that Axel was probably suffering from a massive hang over and Leon was at the doorstep to The Fix right about now.
Ker-BLANG.
Yup, that would be him now. And what in the world would cause him to slam the front door open with such forced menace and destruction? Wasn't Leon a sophisticated man of debonair and culture?
Cloud Strife turned on the spot and was greeted with the sight of—
"Holy shit, man. What happened to you?"
Leon silenced his employee swiftly with a hand in the air, palm forward. The sharp gesture clearly meant: Stow it, I don't want to talk to you right now. Continue, and I shall do painful things to you and your windpipe. And possibly your pancreas, but we'll see about that.
Cloud blinked stupidly.
"Um, Leon?"
"Shut—!"
Yes, Leon only got that far before Cloud got the full message and went back to doing whatever he was doing before the boss interrupted him (which was mindlessly counting and recounting the 49 dollars and 80 cents that had accumulated in the till since this morning). It was strangely disturbing to Cloud that he was finding the clearly-irate-and-irrational Leonhart to be quite fascinatingly attractive in his furious light. Undeniably… aggressive. And definitely… hot.
Somebody in Kansas City loves meeee,
Somebody is waiting 'til we're all aloooone.
The Strife wanted to break something, anything, so that his train of thought could derail right then and there. But of course, if he were to break anything in the bar, Leon would most likely maul his pathetic ass, which at the moment, Cloud didn't think he'd mind…
Oh my God, Cloud screamed at himself. Don't go there!
He seriously didn't understand why he was being turned on right now. I mean, clearly, his object of infatuation was not in his right mind. Must be the weather, Cloud deduced astutely. Yeah. The weather. Obviously.
Leon shouldered his way around the counter, barged past a stiffening Cloud (no pun intended) and pulled the plug on the radio. It died screaming: He's like that tin man with a big heaaaart. It ain't easy, he loves meee. AND THE ROCKET LAUNCH, START THIS SH—
It was around about this time that Cloud realised Leon was probably going through his own personal Armageddon right now. And there was a sign hanging over his boss's head with an arrow pointing downward that said: VERY EMO. DO NOT DISTURB. HAVE A NICE DAY. 'KAY, THANKS, BYE.
I hate my life, Cloud decided quite belatedly, and reverently began boiling some water.
"Er, tea?" he offered cautiously to the silence as white steam wafted into his face.
Leon stared at him blankly. Then, he answered with a resigned sigh, "Yes, please."
Demyx started the day with Yogurt Burst Cheerios in his stomach and Sum41 music blasting into his perfectly-mutilated ears. The volume of his iPod Classic (80GB, black, engraved with 'M13', leather protective casing, modified earphones) was so unnecessarily loud that the old lady in the ugly blue skirt and white-purple chemise could hear Fat Lip playing from seven plastic seats away on the speeding bus. She glared at Demyx, who didn't register the blatant fact that anyone was looking at him in a mildly threatening manner. So, the kid continued bobbing his head to the music, his mohawk swaying along to the beat, pale light glinting off his piercings and golden neck chain.
This was entirely routine for the young man, especially on days when he had classes early in the morning (Mondays and Wednesdays: Composition and Musicology and Litterature Contemporaine respectively). Of course, today was a Sunday. But he was on his way to work anyways. So instead of 411, he took 107, which dropped him off a few blocks away from The Fix, where he was employed as a part-time barista.
It wasn't a secret. Demyx was another casualty of society; a victim of conformity.
But despite this, he liked his relatively new job. His colleagues were decidedly made of some kind of awesomesauce, or radicalsoup (he couldn't yet decide which) and they were definitely the coolest bunch of people on the planet. They were all highly pleasant to work with. Including that Cloud guy. No, especially that Cloud guy.
Poor bugger, Demyx thought sadly. Dude needs something to relieve him of his pent-up sexual frustration. The blond shook his head a little. "Wow, I really like Sum41," he disconnectedly muttered to himself, thumbing his iPod with unconscious lethargy. I hope Mismatched Thirteen get to play at the bar soon. Leon was real nice to give us a spot at The Fix. Oh hey, speaking of The Fix, there it goes now!
Indeed, the coffee bar flashed past the window and disappeared around a corner. And then another corner. And yet another.
And that was when Demyx realised rather late that he had just missed his stop.
"Aw, poop."
So, about fifteen minutes of backtracking later, Demyx managed to get himself safely to the bar without further mishap. The long walk alone was a terrible affair, what with the dark and depressing (not to mention damp and icky) weather. But Demyx didn't quite mind. He had his navy blue umbrella with him. And he had Skillet, Rob Zombie and Lacuna Coil to keep him company through this trying time.
Sidestepping the illegally parked Volvo outside The Fix, Demyx shut his umbrella and pushed through the front door, flashing everyone inside a huge grin that read: Happy birthday, y'all! LET'S SING THE POKÉRAP TOGETHER!
His smile promptly evaporated when he realised the bar was almost empty. He traipsed his way to the back, where he found two people. The one sprawled on the chair in the corner looked pretty much dead, the other looked close to wringing his own neck due to the fact that he had no idea what to do about said guy who looked pretty much dead.
Demyx's mind took awhile to register who these two people were. It took him about five seconds to emit a rather dramatic gasp when he recognised his boss. And then, remembering something significant, he carefully plucked his expensive earphones out of his ears, wound them up neatly around his iPod, placed the thing safely into the side pocket of his red-black messenger bag and looked back up at Leon with an expression of confusion and uncertainty.
"Er, Leon? Is there a reason why there's toothpaste in your hair? … And, er, is that peanut butter on your crotch? Also, your, er, why… er, why is half your shirt sleeve burnt off?"
Leon's brows creased and he slowly drove a hand through his dark hair, which was indeed spattered in white goop. Apparently that morning, he'd completely forgotten that toothpaste did not equal hair gel. As for the peanut butter and burnt clothes…
"Accident," Leon shrugged, and went back to sipping from his tea nonchalantly.
And yes, Leon did, in fact, have a fight with his gas stove that morning, trying to boil his eggs. It was a miracle his entire abode didn't just catch on fire and go up in smoke.
"Er, okay…" Demyx glanced at Cloud dubiously. Cloud looked helplessly back.
And then Leon cleared his throat and looked up from his steaming mug, as though what he was about to say would be extremely important and would decide the fate of the planet and its doomed inhabitants.
"Demyx?"
"Yeah?"
"What are you doing here?"
"Er," said Demyx cleverly, thinking for a few moments. "Whatever do you mean, sir?"
"It's Sunday."
"Yes."
"You don't come in on Sundays."
"Is that so?"
"Very much so."
"… Oh," said Demyx thoughtfully, fidgeting a little on the spot. "Hmm. Well. Damn."
Regardless of what you may believe of Cloud's previous speculations, Axel Onér was not, in fact, suffering from any sort of hang over. He was actually at home (where he lived with his family of five, and yes, Axel was a grown man of twenty-three, do not question it), sitting comfortably on the floor and staring intently at the television in front of him. Nope, not suffering from a hang over.
That wasn't to say he wasn't suffering.
He was actually trying to 'pwn' his brother on the Nintendo Wii. And he was not exactly enjoying himself.
"FUCK YOU, RENO. YOU'RE CHEATING."
"Excuse me? Just because you suck doesn't mean I'm cheating, yo. How the hell do you cheat on Brawl anyway?"
"CHEATEEEEER. THEY NEVER CHANGE THEIR SPOTS."
"Oh my God, shut up in there! MOM! RENO AND AXEL AREN'T SHUTTING UP."
"THE STUPID GIRL IS LYING TO YOU!"
There was suddenly an impromptu scuffle as Kairi burst into the room and tackled Axel to the floor. The Wii remote clattered away under Reno's bed and smacked into a misplaced Hercules action figure.
"Gethe'elloffami!" Axel gurgled and Kairi attempted to scratch his eyes out. "Raaaape!"
"I'm wiiiinning," Reno sang as his Yoshi blew Axel's Sonic the Hedgehog out of the arena and towards Kingdom Come.
"Arrrrgh," came Axel's articulate reply.
And then rather abruptly, as though struck by a wild notion, he sat up so straight that his spine cracked. And Kairi was thrown off of him.
Axel looked around sheepishly, scratching at his head. "Ah, shit. Today's not a public holiday, is it?"
"Er, no?" Reno replied ever so helpfully.
"Eeeugh. Crap. So not cool."
Half an hour later…
Axel gingerly stepped through the back door of The Fix, fully dressed and ready to assume to his role of Most Trustworthy Employee at the Caffeine Fixation coffee outlet. If anyone asked, he figured he would not say that he'd spent the morning playing Super Smash Bros. Brawl with his retarded sibling, but he would just reply with a firm nod of acknowledgement and say, "Indeed. The cab I took on the way here kind of spontaneously combusted due to the awful rain and we promptly crashed into a ditch."
He was saved from uttering this horrid tale because, almost immediately, he spotted Leon and exuded a similar reaction to Cloud's when the blond had first set eyes on the boss.
"HOLY FLAMING BOTTLES OF COLGATE. WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOU?"
Cloud looked up and shot Axel a dirty look reminiscent of Roxas' several days back.
Then, without pausing for breath, Axel spun around and pointed at Demyx.
"Wha' in th' name o' all things questionable're you doin' 'ere?"
Demyx shrugged quite calmly. "Y'know, I feel quite silly right now for actually turning up. Please don't rub it in."
"Aye, aye, matey. Ye be stayin', then?"
"Yes, I guess? Nothing better to do. Plus it'd be cool to just hang around and lend a hand, even if I don't actually gotta work or anythin'."
"Aye, tha's a good lad. Now, any idea why our cap'n here's actin' all sourpussy and end-of-the-worldy?"
"Axel, what the hell did you hit your head on?" Cloud barked, having had enough of the redhead's rambling dialogue.
"Ah, you see, while I was on my way here—"
"Shit," Leon cursed wildly without warning, rocketing out of his seat as though his pants had jaws and were trying to eat him. All three employees looked around at him in unison, astounded by the amount of vehemence their boss conveyed in just that one word alone.
"Shit?" Axel prompted, willing Leon to go further and explain his outburst.
"Shitshitshit. My phone."
"What about it?"
"I threw it out my window this morning."
Demyx nodded understandingly. "Perfectly normal thing to do, sir. Especially to such an expensive thing like that. Perfectly normal."
Cloud elbowed Demyx in the ribs painfully.
"Shit."
Axel rolled his eyes. "We heard you the first time, boss. Any reason why you decided to relinquish your hold on your cell in such an undignified but highly-stylish manner?"
Leon stared at Axel for a moment. Then, he sat down again and exhaled loudly, as though he were dying and just about to tell the world exactly why. Not that the world really wanted to know in the first place.
"Rinoa broke up with me."
There were two counts of pure, unadulterated silence. And then…
"NO WAY! THAT SUCKS, MAN," Axel practically exploded. Hah! I soooo saw it coming. Poor sucka.
"Oh dear, that's just awful," Demyx shook his head sympathetically. Kinda saw it coming. Poor Leon.
"… Er…" said Cloud smartly, face absolutely blank. Didn't see it coming, but, YEEEESSSS! This is good! It's good. Right…?
In the distance, there was a muffled rumble of thunder.
Roxas slammed the fridge door shut, trudged over to the breakfast table with his glass of pink lemonade and sat down to eat his sugar-dusted cinnamon roll. It was an hour till work, but he'd need to go over to Sora's place first to get the idiot out of bed. He always seemed to be doing that on a regular basis. If there was one thing Sora's parents loved most about their son, it was definitely said son's best friend. Roxas was something like a personal alarm clock to Sora. In fact, the blond was so good at what he did that Mrs. Vaïve gave him a nice, shiny dollar every single time he successfully managed to get her son up (and this resulted in Roxas becoming quite prosperous). The lazy bugger could sleep through dinner if you'd allow him that one guilty pleasure. He could probably sleep through a goddamn nuclear war and be none the wiser. For that, Roxas worried about his best friend's wellbeing.
But that was way beside the point.
If anything, the blond believed he'd taken up a job in Hell. Or at least a miniature version of it. Arguably, it was all Sora's fault. If only his friend had taken a job at, say, that nice peaceful little florist down St. Jimmy's Boulevard which the pleasant Miss Gainsborough owned, he'd be a lot happier. Indeed, he'd heard she needed help with her flowers, plastic and/or otherwise.
Why were they even working? They came from money-loaded families. Sora's father was like, the fucking mayor of Twilight Metropolis and Roxas would be damned if his own dad didn't churn out award winning novels that sold billions of copies worldwide.
Fact: Roxas' father was a famous author under the pseudonym 'Nooj' and his mother was a well-known supermodel (who went by the tacky name of 'LeBlanc'—you may have heard of her).
Fact II: Roxas believed that he and Sora didn't need to work. They needed to spend their time wisely, like on fencing lessons or water skiing or… learning skateboard tricks, or something. He believed his sister had the right idea, and that was to blow their parent's funds on pricey cotton duck canvases, large art palettes, glossy frankincense oil paints and kolinsky sable paintbrushes.
Fact III: Sora was his Best Friend. And Roxas always stood by his Best Friend, no matter what—be it fending off homophobic tormentors or aiding him in his Modern History essay. Because he knew that if he didn't, Sora would get into all sorts of shit (like getting himself mauled by the neighbour's Staffordshire bull terrier, Goofy), and that would mean Roxas would have failed in his duty as a goddamn Best Friend.
But even so, seriously speaking, working at The Fix was getting to be way too grating on his nerves.
I mean, come on people. First and foremost, it's only been week one, and he'd already gotten assaulted. Twice. A curled fist and a fucking door had made loud and painful contact with his face. Secondly, most of his co-workers were highly likely made in Retardedville. In particular that Demyx guy. No, especially that Demyx guy.
And last (but certainly not least), there was the existence of a stupid jerk named Axel.
If it weren't already obvious, it should be known that Roxas really didn't like that stupid jerk named Axel.
He was egotistical, overconfident, way too loud, way too open, way too cunning and, and… the one thing Roxas despised most about that redhead was that he was way too fucking tall. Honestly. He could take everything else if not for the height issue.
Let it be known now that Roxas did not take lightly to people who were taller than him, especially if they were well aware of the fact and loved to rub it in.
And that jackass probably went through ten bottles of hair products a week.
Okay, so Roxas did too. That wasn't the point.
The point was: He had flaming red hair. Who the hell had flaming red hair? Was his entire damned family blessed with flaming red hair?
Also, also, the redhead was definitely anorexic. Or on drugs. Or both. And Roxas didn't like people who were anorexic. Or on drugs. Or both.
Actually, Roxas just didn't like Axel. Period.
Okay, so Roxas had this whole list of excuses (approximately sixty-nine of them) on why he didn't like Axel Onér. Because he knew that if he didn't reassure himself that there actually were reasons why he detested the redhead, he might actually start liking the guy.
And that just wouldn't do now, would it?
Sora shifted around under his blankets and mumbled something like, "Mmm. You're… all squishy and warm and… stuff." The rain outside pattered against his windows melodiously and the brunet was probably feeling quite comfy right now.
His left eye twitched madly and he unconsciously rolled over onto his stomach and mashed his head into his pillow. In a few moments, he was drooling. "Buy me some candy, please. I like candy. I want candy. Please? Roxas never buys me candy. He never buys anyone candy. He's a biiitch. All raarrgh and bitchy and stuff. Eh, you're all nice and… other stuff. Candy? Yarrrr… I like you too. Like I like candy. And wafflessss. And ooooh, yes, maple syrup. I like that a lot. Ooooh."
Sick an' tired of hearin' all these people talk about. What's the deal with this pop life and when's it gon' play out?
'N Sync's Dirty Pop started playing somewhere to the boy's left.
Moaning discontentedly, he let it go on for another fifteen seconds before he started groping around for his phone on his bedside table. He somehow managed to swipe the remote control of his 50″ Full HD Plasma TV onto the floor before locating it and answering it groggily.
"… Gurk. Y-yeh?"
"Hey, get your queer ass out of bed, man."
Sora gave a stifled sort of grunt and completely rolled off his bed (an impressive feat, considering it was king-sized), landing on the varnished parquet flooring with a solid thump. He groaned sleepily, brain not registering a sudden bout of pain that throbbed through his entire right shoulder.
"Sora Vaïve, I swear to God, man. If you're wanking off right now—"
"Mmmmrox, go away… I neeeeeed… nice maple syrupy Riiiiku… I mean wafflessss."
SLAM.
"Get the hell off the floor, you moron."
Click. Dial tone.
Sora winced and looked up from the ground, where he found a seething Roxas glaring at him from his doorway, iPhone clenched in one hand and fire burning in his bright blue eyes.
"H'lo, Roxuuuus, I see you have c'mere to devi- delver- dilver? … er, give me some wafflesssss, no?"
"No," Roxas said firmly. "Now get up. We'll both be late for work."
"Who da heck letchu into mah home, homie?" Sora whined, dragging himself upright.
"Your mom."
"Noooo, your mom," the brunet insisted. Then he blinked. "Wait. Why're you wet?" He squinted accusingly. "Did you piss yourself?"
Roxas rolled his eyes. "It's pouring outside."
"B'zuh? Pouring what?"
The blond pointed at Sora's window wordlessly.
Sora stared uncomprehendingly for a few seconds. Then it clicked. "Ohhhh. You mean it's raining outside."
"Whatever. Get dressed, please, before I no longer find myself obliged to let you copy off my priceless Chemistry notes."
Sora pouted for a short, contemplative moment, as though weighing the odds on the smug bastard ever doing such a monstrous thing. Then, reluctantly surrendering and giving in to his friend's demands, he sombrely got up to get ready for work.
Either way, the two boys in question managed to make it to The Fix in excellent time, both of whom caught a lift in Sora's dad's V12 Sonderklasse 600 Mercedes-Benz sedan (leather upholstery, dual-zone automatic climate controls, voice recognition navigation system, power panoramic sunroof, premium sound system, 6-disc CD changer, satellite radio, multicontour massaging seats, night vision). Good thing too, because it was storming pretty badly outside.
And with that, the rich kids entered the bar and assumed their exclusive roles as Rookie Barista Sora and Rookie Barista Roxas (as opposed to Son of Wealthy Politician and Son of Legendary Writer and Notorious Supermodel respectively).
And it would be much later that Sora would come to realise that he didn't take Chemistry as a subject.
So the day proceeded as per normal, despite Leon being 'sort of' out of commission for the time being (what with him having lost his fair maiden to some loser at Starbucks and moping around like Christmas came and went and he didn't even get a greeting card). Axel took it upon himself to act as a sort of stand-in, insisting that he was taking over the job and supervising the new employees; an insufferable task, as he put it. Okay, he was just being an annoying pest.
In the back, the redhead was trying very, very hard to take the initiative.
"Leon. I could go get you some beer from down the road. Or perhaps something stronger. Vodka? Gin? Bourbon? The liquor store's got a pretty awesome collection. I could just skip down there and—"
"Axel, do your job," Cloud groused.
Axel frowned. "Just trying to help the man ease his pain, y'know?" The redhead gesticulated wildly in Leon's direction. "Dude, he used to be so happy."
Cloud raised an eyebrow.
"Guh," Leon muttered unresponsively in his daze, not really understanding the ebb and flow of the conversation that was taking place in front of him.
Despite Axel's proposal, it seemed as though Leon didn't need to get drunk. He was already reduced to a state that was half-comatose and half-drugged. Cloud was pretty sure the chair he was sitting in would cease to support him soon, what with the way the man was leaning in such a manner. He was like a puddle of severely-depressed goo.
Meanwhile, out in front, Sora and Roxas (with assistance from Demyx, who wasn't supposed to even be here today) were doing their jobs by the book (unlike those idiots in the kitchen. God knew how this place functioned before the new staff arrived). At least out here, things were going as they should. Right about now, Sora was by the counter, taking the orders of this trio of beautiful young ladies. One of them looked surprisingly familiar.
"Oh hiiiiiiiiiii! You must be Soraaaa!" she quipped, waving enthusiastically, long braided hair swaying with the dynamic motion. Her grin was a brilliant sunbeam that lit the place up magically. She was like one of those spectacular disco balls.
Sora did a double take and grinned back like a burning ball of gas. Put these two in a room and watch it blow to smithereens with mega doses of radiation. "Oooh, I remember you!" he exclaimed. "You're that chick who kept calling Cloud 'Strifeman'."
"Oh gosh! You remember me? That's so cool! And yeah! I'm Rikku."
Sora tapped his chin. "Rikku, huh? I met some guy two days ago with a name that sounded exactly like yours. Neat!"
Rikku laughed. "Trust me, it's not exactly a common name. Oh well. So, where is the Strifeman, exactly?"
"Out back," Sora answered, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the door that led to the kitchen. "Kinda noticed the sombre mood in there and decided that it's five million times better out here. Didn't wanna stick around and be a bother to them seniors anyways. Those three big boys seem to be hecka tight, if y'know what I mean."
Rikku tilted her head to one side. "Well. I suppose. I dunno. Strifeman's usually going on about how much he hates his job, and his boss, and that infernal redheaded donkey, to quote him on it. So I dunno if you'd call 'em tight."
"Meh. They're all totally buddy-buddy. I so can tell."
"Ahem," one of the other ladies cleared her throat impatiently. She was dressed in semi-gothic garb. And she reminded Sora of a vampire for some reason. Were those red contact lenses? Freaky.
"Oh. Oops," Rikku giggled. "Sora, these are my gal pals, Paine and Yunie, er, Yuna," she pointed to each girl respectively. Apparently, Yuna looked like a pop star and Paine was the dark bloodsucker.
"Hi," Yunie, er, Yuna waved at Sora with a polite smile.
"We didn't ask to be introduced, Rikku," the Dark One intoned. "We came to get drinks."
"Right, right. Sure," Rikku nodded and turned back to Sora quickly, giving him an exasperated look that clearly read: Jeez, I don't even know why she even hangs out with me. Wonder what made us such good friends. I think I annoy her way too much. Paine's always so cynical and sarcastic and half the time she doesn't laugh at my jokes, and I just don't get her own jokes sometimes. And I think I might be in love with her, but I don't know. Maybe. You see, I am clearly not a lesbian. Yet. But I might be. And hey, are those cookies? I gotta get me some of those.
Yes. Believe it or not, Sora was quite capable of understanding the look she gave him.
"Soooo, we'll be having the—"
"Wait, I got it. Lemme guess, toffee nut latte, banana milkshake, flat white, all large? And I see you eyeing those cookies. Want some, huh?"
Yuna gasped. Rikku gaped. Even Paine managed to look a little impressed.
"Wow, you're real good," Rikku whispered with newfound respect.
Sora shrugged, embarrassed. "Ah, I've got a pretty radical memory. Which is freakin' weird, cuz I fail my classes when I swear to God I study for them. By the way, toffee nut lattes are the shiznit!"
"Whoa, hey!" Demyx called from the other side of the room. "Holy mother of… I don't believe it! It's Yuna and company! IT'S WHY-AR-PEE!"
Sora stared, bewildered. "Why are what?"
"Y.R.P. He means us," Paine explained to Sora. "Yuna, Rikku, Paine."
"Oh." Sora was a little confused.
"We're a local band."
"Oh." That cleared up very little.
Yuna grinned at Demyx, who was practically stumbling over to the counter.
"Dem! You work here!"
"Yuuuuuna!" Demyx gave Yuna a hug. "Aw, man! It's been years since I've last seen you."
Sora blinked. "You guys know each other?"
"We all went to high school together," Rikku supplied helpfully.
Yuna nodded. "Yup. I was in his music class. And I saw him grow from an edgy greenhorn into an awesome musician. And then we were neck-and-neck at the finals of the Songster Music Festival Competition in our final year."
"And then you kicked my ass and became Songstress."
"You came second," Yuna laughed. "Nothing bad about that."
Demyx nodded. "Yeah. You deserved the Songstress Award, though. You were, and always will be, the awesomest singer." Then, he looked over at Rikku and Paine. "You guys still tight, huh?"
Rikku grinned. "Still tight, Dem."
"Sweet! Last time I saw you two, you weren't speaking to each other."
"That was a long time ago, Aeco."
"Yeah. Figured. Man, heard you guys're getting pretty famous with your band!"
Rikku shrugged. "The fans haven't sent us overly-creepy mail yet, so nah, not that famous."
"What about you?" Paine asked, crossing her arms with a slight smirk. "Heard you started your own band up at UT."
Demyx gushed and started jabbering away about his own band.
It was around this time that Sora kind of got lost in the conversation and decided to go make the drinks instead. The three girls ended up sitting at one of the tables with Demyx for the next twenty minutes, chitchatting away like old friends. Which was pretty close to what they were, really.
"Alright, alright. Look here, Leon," Axel was saying back in the kitchen. "It's high time you moved on and bought a violin or something. Take up a hobby. Go fly a kite. Make muffins. Learn to sew. Write crappy movie reviews for the local papers. Breed fighting fish. Become gay. Forget about that millionaire chica. As your good friend and faithful employee, I strongly and optimistically encourage it. So, do the right thing. Be a man."
Leon stared at Axel. Then he looked over at Cloud imploringly.
"Please shoot him."
As soon as Yuna, Rikku and Paine left, Sora voiced his thoughts.
"Wow. Y'know, I think those friends of yours are pretty nice. And that Rikku chick is cool."
Demyx beamed. "They rock. For serious. In fact they— Oh!" All of a sudden, he remembered something. "Ah. Er. Hmm… Speaking of Rikku," the musician said thoughtfully, "a Riku fella came in to look for you yesterday morning."
The brunet blinked, then gave Demyx a wide-eyed stare.
"Really?!" he managed to squeal without choking or going into immediate cardiac arrest.
"Yeah. Uh… Sorry. I totally forgot." Demyx rummaged into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, then he took out a scrap piece of paper. "Just before he left, he passed this to me and told me to give to you." He handed it over to Sora.
On the piece of paper, there was a name, a number and the words 'can we be friends?' written in neat, minuscule script right at the bottom.
Demyx grinned widely at an amazed Sora.
"Well, looks like he's keen on ya, huh?"
By 8:13 (actually, 1:30 in the afternoon), Leon was obviously a mess and most definitely a hazard to himself and others around him. He was unkempt, aloof, dishevelled and not exactly very aware of certain things going on at The Fix. Axel was silently cursing Rinoa for turning his boss into an emo vegetable. Cloud kind of just kept his distance and entertained cheerless thoughts such as 'why is this world so unfair?' and 'this is a stupid world' and 'I hate the world' and 'I want to kill the world'.
At 8:13 (er, 2:00pm), Demyx pulled everyone aside (sans the boss) to discuss something.
"We should totally throw him a party."
"What?"
"You know, to cheer him up. We'll need it to be an awesome party, n'est-ce pas?"
"Demyx? You used to be cool. What happened?"
"Don't be a spoilsport, Axy Waxy."
"Did you just call me—"
"We'll have it right here in The Fix! And we shall bring cake and cookies and little streamers and ribbons with glittery glitter. And we'll have loud music and free apple pies all on the house! And if we're feeling really generous, we'll buy Leon a huge bottle of expensive champagne, a tea set, lots of earl grey sachets and… Oh! Every single one of us will definitely have to bring permanent markers in black and red to, y'know, shamelessly decorate the outer walls of the Starbucks down the road! Specifically Sharpies. I like Sharpies. We need to get our hands on some flippin' hardcore Sharpies. Although twenty cans of spray paint will do just fine. Whaddya say, guys?"
Sora sort of looked at Demyx with this wide expression of awe and admiration. "Dem? You come up with the sickest ideas. Ever. Respect, bro. Respect!"
"I try," Demyx admitted modestly, ducking his head.
"I'll provide the alcohol," Axel said, raising a hand in the air.
"No alcohol, Ax," Demyx said firmly.
"Damn."
Cloud scoffed. Personally, he thought a party would be a ridiculous idea. I mean, he didn't even think Leon was in any way the sort of guy who went to social gatherings with a smile on his face. If anything, he was probably the type who'd just stand around in a lonely corner, sipping lukewarm wine and observing people on the dance floor with an unapproachable look on his face. But, Cloud figured that if a little festivity somehow managed to cheer him up, then maybe it was well worth it. "Alright, smartass," the blond snapped. "When do you propose we hold this shindig?"
"Leave everything to me, Cloudy Skies."
Roxas frowned. "I hope you're not serious about the defacing Starbucks part."
Axel grinned. "I think we're going to take it very seriously."
"They'll sue your fucking pants off."
"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you, Rox?"
"Shut your face."
8:13pm (5:23pm).
The sky was just beginning to darken. The rain had died off into a light drizzle and The Fix was pretty much deserted. Not at all unusual at this hour.
And then, out of the blue, the front door crashed opened. Two people stepped in (somewhat mildly damp). One definitely male, the other possibly female. Both were blond. Both had identical smirks on their faces.
"'Sup, laaaaadies," the new guy drawled. It was a scornful drawl.
Axel recognised both customers immediately. Only, of course, he knew quite well that they were not here to be catered for.
"Oh, shit." Axel hissed, elbowing Cloud in the side. "I think you should very quickly and discreetly go into the kitchen and keep the boss safely in there. I don't think he needs this. Might be bad."
Too late.
"YO, SQUALL!" the first speaker yelled. "I HAVE YOUR FUCKING RING. MY GIRL TOLD ME TO GIVE IT BACK TO YOU."
Cloud blanched.
They all heard the scraping of a chair in the back.
Demyx looked a little uneasy.
Sora and Roxas weren't actually sure what was going on and they had no idea why these two people in Starbucks uniforms were causing such a fuss. But Roxas, intelligent child that he was, knew something unpromising was about to happen.
Then, in one suspended moment whereby nobody said anything, the kitchen door swung open and Leon stepped out.
He regarded the newcomers almost apathetically, gaze cold.
"Almasy."
"Wow. You look like shit. You must be the famous Squally-poo."
"Leon."
"Heh. Whatever."
"Whatever."
"Oh. Right. She said that was your favourite word."
Leon's glassy eyes narrowed. Then he looked over at the quasi-female standing next to Seifer Almasy.
"Larxene."
"You remembered. That's nice, boss."
Seifer shrugged. "Actually, I just came here to tell you that I threw your ring in the trash. Hope you don't mind too much." And he started to laugh, like it was the funniest thing ever.
With barely concealed dislike, Axel stepped forward. He knew Leon was not exactly emotionally ready to beat a guy into the ground (in fact, Leon was probably on the verge of collapse). But the redhead definitely was.
"Hey, asshole. Yeah, you. You've made your point. If you don't fucking scram, I'm gonna kick seven shades of shit out of you."
"Language, Onér," Larxene tsked.
"Back off, you bug-like twat."
"You wanna go, red?" Seifer growled, baring his teeth.
"I'll fucking take you there," Axel snarled back.
"Oooh. Sounds like a challenge. You don't look like much. I could probably snap your scrawny ass in half."
"I'll maim you," Axel promised him. "Just like what those Happy Tree Friends do to each other."
"Is that a threat? I'm soooo scared."
"Easy, Axel," Cloud muttered when Axel took a menacing step forward. "These are Starbucks prats."
Axel sneered. "Yeah. They see stars out of earning your bucks."
"Oh really?" Larxene snorted, highly amused. "You come up with that all by your lonesome, dear? Clever, aren't ya? Cuz I never knew that."
"WELL GET IT MEMORIZED, BITCH."
"You losers are a joke," Seifer waved a hand around. "Caffeine Fixation? Stupidest name I've ever heard. And you guys actually brew coffee? What a riot, Squally-poo."
"Shut the hell up, man," Cloud managed, getting a little pissed. "Our coffee-making is serious fucking business."
It was now quite clear that at certain instances when desperate times called for hostile measures, Cloud and Axel, the two who've been working under Leon for so long now, were obviously pretty damn loyal to their boss and would actually come to his defense when the situation arose.
"Ooooh, blondie's a tough guy."
"I seriously think you should shut the fuck up."
"Oh my, Strife's got a backbone!" Larxene exclaimed in mock-astonishment.
Cloud clenched a fist and strode forward, planting his feet right beside Axel. There was a dark, stormy expression on his face.
Suddenly, the catchy bass beats of Queen's Another One Bites the Dust started to emanate around the bar.
After a few bewildered moments, Seifer realised his phone was going off. He answered it hastily, knowing that his ringtone had probably lessened, maybe even killed, the portentous mood in the room.
"Yeah? Almasy speaking. Oh hey. Yeah. Yeah. Done. Totally. Yeees, it's safe with him. We're actually just about to leave. No, I won't say hi to him for you… What?! Er, no, I don't know if he wants to speak to you… Uh… Okay. Right. You too. Bye."
Seifer pocketed his phone and glanced back at Leon, who had stood silent and still at the same spot since exiting the kitchen.
"Rinoa says hi. And she's very in love with me. And we're leaving. Good bye."
Before Seifer grabbed Larxene to leave, Axel yelled, "I sincerely hope to God the very next cab you take spontaneously combusts and crashes into a fucking ditch!"
Seifer flipped him the bird and swung the door open.
Without warning, Sora screamed after them, grabbing the chrome straw holder from the counter and waving it madly in the air. "THAT'S RIGHT, FLEE, YOU SLIMY COWARDS! COME BACK HERE EVER AGAIN AND IMMA GIVE YOU A BOOT TO THE HEAD. CAFFEINE FIXATION PRIDE, MAN."
The door slammed shut.
Almost everyone, apart from an extremely pumped Sora, breathed a huge sigh of relief.
After a few moments of silence, Cloud looked up and glared at Axel.
"I don't get why you gotta be the big damn hero all the time."
Axel shrugged and grinned a little. "Like the kid said, Strifey. Caffeine Fixation pride, man."
Cloud exhaled and shook his head. "Yeah," he grudgingly agreed quietly. "Caffeine Fixation pride."
And there could have been a smile on his face.
Author's note: WHO KICKS A DOG WHEN IT'S DOWN? DEFEND THE LEONHART. AR.