Ace Attorney: We Are Made From Broken Parts
Chapter Three:
- Trauma Triggers -
By Soulkit
There were a lot of things Athena Cykes felt she would never understand; for example, why the sky was blue, why clouds looked like marshmallows, why her hearing was so much more acute than a normal person's, why her mother used to make her wear those big headphones, or her new boss' obsession with things being completed to perfection. Mostly, though, Athena couldn't understand how she got into hopeless situations.
As an example, there was the current situation of her paperwork.
Oh, sure, after her boss's rather hardcore speech when he employed her about defending the innocent and helping save lives, it hadn't been so bad. For the first few days she had found it fun and exciting: she showed off her analytical psychology with her boss' clients, learned the differences between handling a drug charge and a murder charge and an assault charge, the two main rules of evidence law and even accompanied her boss to the detention centre a couple of times.
All of that had been fairly simple, but perfectly understandable. Even going over the finer points of court etiquette had been no problem.
Then her boss had told her she should start coming in for the same hours he did. Before he had been seemingly content to let her settle in before unleashing the horror that was their irregular work schedule, and now she found herself having to wake up at five in the morning to make it to the office at six. Then there would be no reprieve in the evening since her boss always stayed late to 'stay on top of things'. She didn't even have weekends off!
It was only through sheer determination that she had made it through the next week.
The following few days saw her being put through rigorous tests by her boss. He put her through mock-ups of cross-examinations, berating her when she focussed on the wrong thing and penalising her with less break times if she made too many mistakes. During what were supposed to be her breaks she was made to do what seemed a never-ending supply of paperwork. Expenses, referrals, evidence lists, requisition forms, court records to be filed, request forms to be signed and a whole avalanche of other pieces of paper that Athena was pretty sure no-one had mentioned during her training in Europe. She swore she was going to get carpal tunnel before she even had a chance to actually defend someone in court.
Apparently her boss didn't believe in going easy on her. Or, at least, not what a sane person would consider 'going easy'.
So, Athena dearly wanted to know what in the hell had ever possessed her to put herself in this damn situation. Okay so she knew perfectly well why she had become a lawyer but it didn't mean she had to like it! Trying to ignore the steadily darkening sky outside the window and the desire for her bed, she instead made light of the situation by reasoning she only had three more things to finish before she could leave for the night.
Waking up at ungodly hours in the morning was a cakewalk compared to the torture of paperwork.
The first form she simply had to sign at the bottom which she did with much relief in the elegant handwriting that had been pounded into her ("What lawyer writes in chicken scratch?"). She put it to the side to be filed later, then focussed on the letter of request currently still to be attended to and sighed when she realised her boss wouldn't be able to take the case. This meant she would have to write out a reply instead of just handing it to her boss and letting him take care of it. Damn it. More writing.
A small problem presented itself, however, when she realised she couldn't find a piece a blank piece of paper. Despair filled her. The day was never going to end it seemed. She was doomed to spend all night here.
"Doom and despair!" Widget shouted cheerily and Athena couldn't help but laugh, fingering the small item round her neck fondly. The small AI computer was so in-tune with her emotions it often shouted out her feelings. It was embarrassing sometimes, but it was also her constant companion. And one of only two things her mother had ever given her.
Athena scowled and shook her head out of those thoughts. Thinking about that wasn't going to help her. She needed to focus on the now.
'Maybe the boss has some spare paper,' she thoughtfully rested her chin on her pointer finger. Honestly, why couldn't they just use the computer? It would be so much easier, but noooo, hard evidence was apparently everything, so all of their records had to be handled in the real world instead of the digital one.
She bounded into her boss' empty room (he'd left a little while ago) and eyed the well-kept shelves for anything that might resemble something she could write on. Maybe in his desk? She hovered beside it for a second, wondering if her boss would yell at her for looking through it. It wasn't like there was anything he needed to hide from her she reasoned and happily opened up the first drawer. Nothing of use in there. The second drawer was just as unserviceable. The third drawer, however, was locked.
This made her frown. Why would this one be locked and not the others? And stranger than that, she couldn't see a keyhole to lock it with. Maybe it was just stuck? She tested her theory by pulling on it harder but gave up when her wrist protested painfully. This paperwork was going to make her hand fall off. She was sure of it.
Deciding that it wasn't worth it (because who kept blank paper in a locked drawer?), she abandoned the mysterious compartment and moved to the filing cabinet where lo and behold, there was a whole bundle of paper sitting innocently on top.
"Yay!" Widget sounded while Athena quickly moved back to her own desk to finish her work and finally go home. 'What a Saturday night this turned out to be' she lamented with an exaggerated eye roll.
But the locked drawer remained at the back of her mind and she continued to wonder what Mr Gavin wanted with a drawer that didn't even open.
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"Oi, what the hell is in this stuff?" Apollo asked through violent coughs as he finally swallowed his first mouthful of noodles. It was probably going to be his last too. The stuff was so hot and salty he was pretty sure he'd be dead before he could finish.
"That there, kiddo, is the saltiest bowl of noodles you'll ever have!" Guy Eldoon proclaimed proudly and finished off the declaration with a short tune from his harmonica. Apollo stared at the man standing across the counter and wondered if he had made a serious error in listening to that random hobo who told him about this place.
He was sitting in a noodle stand called (wait for it) Eldoon's Noodles which was apparently well-known within the homeless community for its cheap prices. While Apollo couldn't argue with that, he had his doubts about the quality of the food. At least Mr Eldoon was honest, if a little too enthusiastic, about its saltiness. If Apollo squinted, he could actually see tiny particles of salt floating in the soup around his noodles where it had failed to dissolve. He grimaced, well aware that Mr Eldoon was watching him closely, and tentatively took a much smaller bite than he had the first time. It still made him want to throw up, but he swallowed it all the same. He'd paid for it after all, and he'd eaten much worse.
Obviously satisfied that his customer was eating, Mr Eldoon moved back into the small kitchen to tend to his soup pot. While he did, Apollo surreptitiously slid his hand into his pocket to check for his money. All eight dollars and fifty two cents were still there as far as he could tell. Not that anyone could have logically pickpocketed him in the time since he'd last had money out to pay for the abomination he was forcing down his throat, but it paid to be paranoid.
"So what's yer story?"
Apollo jumped when Mr Eldoon spoke and almost upturned the bowl of noodles all over himself. He glanced up at the stand owner and cocked his head to the side. The way the man had spoken, quiet and serious, suggested a genuine curiosity that confused Apollo. Mr Eldoon wasn't exactly your typical person to begin with. He was a thin, bony man with a nose like a ski-slope and he wore a hat shaped like a noodle bowl complete with fake noodles hanging down like hair. His enthusiasm for noodles was also slightly creepy and Apollo decided it was probably better for his health if he didn't argue with it. So to hear such honest interest for Apollo's situation was rather disconcerting.
"Um, what?"
"Salt got to yer head, boy?" Mr Eldoon eyed him as though this was an actual possibility and Apollo found himself running a hand through his hair (like that would somehow help). "How'd someone as young as you end up living on the streets?"
"Why does everyone keep feeling the need to point my age out to me?" Apollo grumbled. "I'm not that young."
"Yer young enough fer people to notice," Mr Eldoon observed and the brunette sighed. "I take it you have someone you can talk to then?"
Apollo's confusion grew ('Why does he care?'). "… Not really. I mean, I have a friend I talk to on the phone when I've got enough money, but he's in another state right now," He grinned, always willing to brag about Clay even if his friend was far more modest about it. "He's gonna be an astronaut y'know!"
Mr Eldoon, unfortunately, didn't close in on this information the way most people did and Apollo shifted uncomfortably under the man's unwavering gaze. This was why Apollo tended to stay away from people. His vagrancy opened up too many questions, questions he'd rather not think about for as long as he lived, but of course those were the questions everyone wanted answers to.
"So you don't have anyone?" The older man insisted and Apollo lowered his gaze. He tried another mouthful of his noodles and took his time swallowing them before finally answering.
"I guess not."
Mr Eldoon sighed and pulled his noodle hat lower down his head. "Y'know, kiddo, I've seen a lot of people in yer position come through here. Some running fer reasons that are their own, some who just had bad luck, some with more sinister afflictions… but y'know what usually makes 'em croak in the end?"
"Salt intake?" Apollo couldn't help but joke. Mr Eldoon didn't smile.
"It's loneliness," The stand owner waved a ladle at Apollo with a wise expression on his face. "People need a reason to keep living. With me, it's my noodles and the people I feed with 'em. People on the street've got nothing but each other. And if you don't let someone in, it doesn't take long fer you to give up."
As Mr Eldoon spoke, Apollo felt anger heating up inside his body. Never to whine; to accept what came; to wait for better; to take what you could; to let no-one, not even yourself, know how close to giving in you were: these were the principles he lived by, and they didn't include the need for other people. Other than the few years he'd had with Clay he had almost always been on his own, and even after his best friend had left he'd seen no reason to change this. He wasn't some broken morsel of humanity. He was alive and (even though there was no-one around to see) he would prove that he was strong.
He didn't need to be pestered with kindness.
But Apollo didn't say any of this. He didn't even show it. Instead, he put a too-wide smile on his face and nodded once. "Oi, I'll remember that the next time I feel like jumping off a bridge."
His sarcasm did him no credit and he turned back to his noodles as Mr Eldoon narrowed his eyes. Apollo ignored the man's annoyance. Accepting Mr Eldoon's advice would be like admitting he was grateful, and he knew if he was ever grateful to anyone his confidence in himself would be destroyed.
This was the reason Apollo was starting to worry about his desire, once again, to see Phoenix Wright. Two days had passed since that night with the muggers. The bruise on his cheek was starting to tinge green and his split lip had healed enough to not be bothered by the salt, but every time they ached he was reminded of that man and the stupid moment when he'd proclaimed them friends. At the time it hadn't seemed stupid at all. He'd been too caught up in his happiness at seeing Phoenix again that he'd spent most of the strange meeting speaking without thinking, too captivated by his emotions that he hadn't used his head ('Y'know, the thing that kept us alive all these years').
It wasn't that he didn't want to be friends with Phoenix. But like accepting Eldoon's advice, it would be as if he was admitting some sort of defeat, that he did need someone. He already had Clay. That had been enough since he was fifteen and it should be enough now.
But it wasn't. That was the problem. Otherwise he wouldn't be at Eldoon's Noodle stand right now (seriously, how often did he follow the advice of other hobos?). It was close to Phoenix's apartment for the moment and, while he might not admit it out loud, barely even admitted it to himself, he had come in the hopes of running into the older man.
Apollo sighed and stirred his noodles around with the cheap chopsticks in his hand. His eyes caught sight of the bruises around his knuckles and he absently ran his thumb over them, the broken skin protesting angrily against the attention.
"You better eat that quickly or it'll get cold, kiddo." Mr Eldoon muttered.
"Maybe that'll make it easier to swallow." Apollo shot back but he took another mouthful anyway.
Mr Eldoon sighed dramatically and blew another short tune on his harmonica before speaking. "You just don't understand, do ya kiddo? You can't deny the mouth-watering, sweet perfection of my salty noodles!"
Apollo just stared at him blankly, chopsticks half-way to his open mouth, caught off-guard by the sudden change of subject. Mr Eldoon threw up his arms and boiling hot soup sprayed over the roof from the ladle the stand owner had evidently forgotten was in his hand.
"My family's been noodle men for generations!" Mr Eldoon proclaimed and Apollo wondered if the man would chase him if he ran. "Fifteen fathers passing the noodle to fifteen sons… Salty broth runs through these veins boy! It's my purpose! My raison d'être!"
Apollo flinched as his bracelet suddenly tightened. 'Wha…?'
"This noodle stand here is a legend, kiddo," Mr Eldoon fondly patted the side of the stand and the bracelet loosened, but only slightly. "So you better show it respect!"
The brunette was about to apologise profusely lest he get a ladleful of boiling soup in his face when another, familiar voice sounded through the small stall.
"No offence, dude, but you're wack."
Apollo ducked as a fork was thrown at his head. "Oi! I didn't say anything!"
The vagrant and the noodle stand owner turned to look at the new arrival – although Apollo already knew who it was and felt his gut sink slightly. Sure enough, he was met with the sight of a bright yellow and purple, eye-offending jacket, brown hair dyed blond and orange in parts at the front to resemble a fox, and a Bad Badger t-shirt that could only belong to one person.
Wocky Kitaki.
"Yo shawty!" Wocky called out cheerfully. Under the light of the lampposts and the noodle stand he looked like some kind of deranged cartoon character. Apollo had to take in the sudden appearance of the younger man for a second before he replied with an eyebrow arched.
"Shawty?" The word sounded stupid and foreign in Apollo's accent. It sounded stupid and foreign in Wocky's accent but Apollo wasn't going to say that to his face. "Oi, I'm older than you."
"But you're shorter," Wocky winked and sat down on the stool next to Apollo's. He made a movement as if to throw his arm over Apollo's shoulder but stopped himself at the last second, instead awkwardly moving the flailing arm to scratch the back of his head. The abashed look on Wocky's face was as good an apology as Apollo knew he was going to get, so he shrugged off the uncomfortable exchange and watched silently as Wocky waved at Mr Eldoon, who was still glaring at the nineteen-year old Kitaki, and ordered. "Two bowls to take away, dude!"
As Wocky spoke, Apollo finally noticed the second person: a small woman with chestnut brown hair and large, innocent brown eyes who was looking around the noodle stand with a strange expression on her face. For a moment Apollo thought it was disgust, but it softened a second later and Apollo was left wondering if he imagined it.
"Hello." She greeted politely as she took a seat beside Wocky and gently placed a hand on his arm. Wocky gave her one of his infamous grins that lit up his face like a five-hundred watt bulb. Apollo could only stare dumfounded and nod in response as Mr Eldoon set about making more noodles, his glare never wavering.
"You looking at my girl, Pollio?" Wocky snapped his fingers in front of the brunette's face and Apollo blinked, inwardly groaning at the name. Wocky thought it sounded Italian. Apollo had never bothered pointing out not all Italians were part of the mafia.
"Oi, I just… I'm… happy for you?" He tried and Wocky beamed while the woman laughed a high tinkling laugh. Truthfully, Apollo was wondering who the hell would ever want to start a relationship with someone like Wocky.
"You should be, Pollio!" The Kitaki threw an arm around the woman's shoulders and pulled her into his chest. Apollo's bracelet tightened and he wondered why the woman's smile suddenly became so strained. "This here's my fallen angel, love of my life, son."
The woman giggled again (fake?) and Apollo cocked his head to the side. "And she is…?"
"Alita," The woman spoke for the first time as she pulled out of Wocky's one-armed embrace. "Alita Tiala."
"Uh, I'm Apollo." He introduced himself and Alita smiled in reply. It was hard not to get taken in by the innocence of it. She looked twenty-one, but she seemed younger.
"You know them, kiddo?" Mr Eldoon spoke up and Apollo winced at the suspicion lacing his tone. He sighed and ran a hand through his dirty brown tresses, deciding it was easier to just explain outright.
"I, uh… I did a couple of jobs for the Kitakis a few months ago," He admitted and quickly held up his hands defensively as Mr Eldoon's expression became murderous. "Oi, it was a few months ago! I didn't have a choice! And the worst thing I did was breaking in to some old warehouse half-way out of town!"
"Don't sell yourself short, Pollio," Wocky added cheerfully. "You're a natural at lock picking."
Apollo groaned and smacked a hand onto his forehead. 'Dammit Wocky…' To his surprise, Mr Eldoon burst out laughing. "Got caught by the twisted noodle of fate, did ya?" He crossed his arms and nodded sympathetically. "A few of my customers have been roped in by the Kitakis as well. Don't worry yerself."
"What's to worry about?" Wocky looked between the two men in confusion but neither felt like giving an answer. In fact, it was Alita who finally answered him.
"Not everyone is as… accepting of your family's activities as I am." She explained softly. Wocky snorted. Apollo noticed the emphasis she put on the 'I' but decided not to comment as Wocky set off on a rant about gangsters, living the sweet life, king of the hill… The brunette stopped listening halfway through.
Apollo had grown used to Wocky over the times they'd interacted during Apollo's various 'jobs'. At first the teenager had worried him the same way Phoenix was worrying him now. But Apollo had quickly realised that Wocky was different: he could be laughed at. He was a show-off, too caught up in his fantasy life of cops and robbers and declaring the vagrant his 'partner in crime' to be any real problem to Apollo. Wocky had never tried to be kind and for this reason Apollo had simply accepted his existence the same way he accepted the cold winter nights. It was simply another thing he had to survive.
Phoenix, on the other hand, was dangerously close to being something like kin. The man obviously had more problems than he let on (darkdirtywrong) and Apollo wasn't sure how to treat him. Distancing himself would be easy enough, there were plenty of places to hide in a city, but the guilt he would feel for leaving Phoenix would only bring him back. The only comfort he could find in his mess of emotions was that Phoenix had never tried to bother him with kindness either. He had given Apollo the hoodie, but other than that had simply talked to Apollo. He had accepted going back to his apartment rather than staying outside in the cold and he hadn't offered to give Apollo anything else. This, more than anything, was why Apollo wanted to keep seeing Phoenix.
The brunette sighed. Maybe he should tell Clay about Phoenix. His friend was always much better at these things than Apollo. And Clay was safe. Accepting that friendship never made him give in. He never relied on Clay for anything other than comradeship and, like Phoenix, his friend had never offered anything else. This thing with Phoenix didn't have to be any different.
While all these thoughts were swirling in Apollo's head, Wocky had been regaling Mr Eldoon with the story of how he and Alita had met. Apollo hadn't paid attention in the slightest and was glad he hadn't if the look on the stand owner's face was anything to go by. He hid his amused smile under the pretext of taking another mouthful of noodles and grimaced when he realised they were cold.
"Told ya so." Mr Eldoon reprimanded, looking thoroughly relieved he had found a distraction from Wocky's ramblings. Apollo made a face at him ('Idiot, Apollo, you can't waste food') and handed him back the bowl.
"Yeah, yeah…" He muttered and he made to stand up when Wocky suddenly spoke.
"Yo, I'll buy you another bowl," Wocky grinned but Apollo didn't miss the way his eyes flicked to Alita (wasn't doing it for Apollo, of course not, he didn't matter).
"I'm fine, Wocky." He replied but the wannabe gangster insisted.
"Oh c'mon. You're barely keeping it up out here, you feel me?"
"No. I don't feel you. That's Alita's job."
Mr Eldoon made a strange coughing noise as Wocky cocked his head in confusion. "Oh come on, Pollio. You seriously gonna deny yourself a meal?"
Apollo ground his teeth but a little voice told him to accept the offer. How often did he get free food that wasn'tout of a dumpster? Eldoon's noodles were probably even worse for his health considering the amount of salt in them, but the fact remained he was still hungry ('not giving in just surviving'). Besides, this wasn't kindness. Once again, Wocky was only showing off.
"No, I suppose not." He sighed and Wocky slapped his hand on the table.
"One more bowl, old man!"
"I am not an old man."
"You sure look it."
"Wocky." Alita reprimanded and to Apollo's surprise, Wocky shut up. He looked over at Alita with a newfound respect.
"Oi, how the hell did you get him to shut up? Only his mother can do that!" Apollo exclaimed as Wocky turned red and Alita laughed. Again. It was slightly unnerving the way she kept doing that. The way his bracelet pinched every time she did wasn't helping.
"Anyway!" Wocky said loudly before Alita could reply. "How have you been, Pollio?"
"Better, now that I don't have to spend all the money I get paying back your family." Apollo couldn't keep the moody edge out of his tone. He decided he was entitled to it though. So what if the Kitakis were gangsters infamous for their violence and ability to evade the police? So what if he was lucky he wasn't dead? It wasn't his fault that drug deal had gone wrong and the Kitaki at the scene had lost four hundred dollars' worth of speed. Hell, he hadn't even known what he was delivering! He never would have done it if he'd known (even if he would have gotten a hundred dollars out of it). He was homeless. He didn't want to ruin lives.
That incident a month ago in December had marked the end of Apollo's relationship with the Kitakis. He'd always been a bit wary of going near them, but at the time he hadn't been left with a choice. It was that or starve and since it was only a message he'd had to deliver to the Rivales family, he'd caved in. That had been in October and, slowly but surely, the Kitakis had roped him into doing more things until finally, two and a half months later, he was told to deliver a bag to someone at a certain time. He'd done so, and then left none the wiser to what he was delivering until Plum Kitaki (Wocky's mother, who Apollo was oddly fond yet terrified of at the same time) found him, told him it was his job to replace the money that was lost that night and that they would no longer be 'requiring his services'. Obviously they'd rather blame some hobo for the mistake than one of their own.
Hence why he had ended up at the Borsht Bowl Club and met Phoenix Wright.
'Huh… maybe it wasn't such a bad thing after all.'
"Yeah, sorry about that," Wocky shrugged and didn't sound very sorry at all as Apollo shook himself out of his thoughts. "At least you only had to pay with money."
Apollo didn't want to think about what other 'payment' the Kitakis might have asked for. "It's fine," He replied automatically as Mr Eldoon set a new bowl of noodles down in front of him and handed a takeaway bag to Wocky. "Oi, where are you going with those anyway?"
"Back to my crib to let my family meet my angel," Wocky smiled dreamily then shook himself. "Just got out of hospital and it's too late for my mom to make anything so I'm bringing dinner back." He waved the bag at Apollo as the brunette frowned.
"Hospital?"
"Yeah I got shot."
"You got what?" Apollo had just been about to eat a mouthful of noodles and it was a good thing he didn't or they would have been sprayed all over Mr Eldoon. Only Wocky would be so nonchalant about something like this.
"No big dilly, son!" Wocky laughed as he pulled down his shirt to reveal bandages criss-crossing his chest. "It's all sorted now!"
Apollo was about to respond when his bracelet tightened. Hard. He somehow managed not to jump but he couldn't stop his eyes instantly moving to Alita as she became very interested on the ring stationed upon her left hand. What the hell?
"… catch up but we gotta get going. I'll see you around, Pollio." Apollo snapped his attention back to Wocky as the teenager stood obviously waiting for a response.
"Y-yeah." He managed and, with a final wave, Alita and Wocky were gone. "The hell just happened?" He murmured to himself.
"You alright, kiddo?" Mr Eldoon asked and Apollo nodded absently. Nothing could ever be normal with Wocky could it? With another sigh, he rubbed his wrist and winced as he felt the skin break underneath the sleeve of his red hoodie. After making sure Mr Eldoon was otherwise occupied, he lifted up the sleeve and examined the abused flesh. He didn't think it was too bad until he caught sight of the traces of blood staining his bracelet.
His bracelet never used to make him bleed. Ever since he had started living on the streets and lost so much weight, however, the bracelet could no longer fit perfectly around his wrist so it rubbed instead of just tightening slightly whenever it sensed another person tensing. Gritting his teeth, he opened his mouth to ask Mr Eldoon for something cold when once more he was interrupted.
"So that's why you needed that money."
For the second time that night, Apollo turned at the sound of a familiar voice, this one a lot more welcome than Wocky Kitaki's, but it still made him yank down his sleeve to hide his injured wrist. "Phoenix!"
The raven-haired man smiled dazedly and stumbled into the stand, laughing slightly as he nearly fell off the stool he tried to sit on. Apollo blinked and looked over at Mr Eldoon who only rolled his eyes slightly and shook his head before frowning at Apollo.
"Thought you said you didn't have anyone?"
"It's... uh, complicated." Yeah, complicated was definitely the word to describe his feelings towards Phoenix. "Please don't count Wocky. I wouldn't exactly call him a friend. Besides, him and Phoenix are the only two people I've spoken more than four words to in… well, in a while. Other than to you and my friend over the phone obviously."
Mr Eldoon arched one of his impressively bushy eyebrows but said nothing as Phoenix suddenly piped up, slurring slightly as he spoke. "That's so lonely, Pollio. It's bad being lonely…"
Apollo turned his gaze back to Phoenix and frowned ('Why the hell did I just admit that?'). "Oi, don't you start calling me Pollio. I'll leave you to the muggers if you do."
As Phoenix gasped melodramatically the brunette cocked his head to the side and glanced at Mr Eldoon again. The stall owner was currently making a fresh bowl of noodles, presumably for Phoenix, with a resigned look on his face and Apollo's confusion at Phoenix's weird behaviour grew.
"So, Kitaki's, huh?" Phoenix prompted as he swayed happily on his stool. Apollo stared at him for a few seconds then finally realised he was supposed to reply.
"Oi, like I said I didn't exactly have a choice," Apollo squinted at the raven-haired man. "How long were you listening?"
Phoenix shrugged. "I dunno. Wasn't counting. But Wocky Kisaki— I mean, Kitaki isn't someone you want to interact with too much, y'know? Thought it was best to sit it out till he left so I could talk to my favourite hobo properly."
Apollo laughed but felt a chill run down his spine as he listened to Phoenix's unsteady speech. "Glad to know I'm your favourite out of all the others."
"Y'know what I mean, Pollo!" Phoenix waved a hand lazily. He regarded Apollo for a moment then reached out and touched Apollo's cheek. Apollo's eyes widened and he felt his face begin to heat up. "I'm sorry about this."
"About wha— oh, the bruises," Apollo rolled his eyes as he moved away from Phoenix's hand and touched the bruise on his cheek with his own. "Oi, this is nothing. I've had worse. Gotta help a friend in need, right?"
There he went speaking without thinking again. His regret vanished as a dopey smile spread across Phoenix's face.
"See, you're not alone, Pollo." Phoenix mumbled happily and the chill on Apollo's spine increased.
Just like the last two meetings, his doubts about interacting with Phoenix slowly melted away when he was actually with the older man. It reminded him of the first few times he'd talked to Clay. Maybe the circumstances had been different, but his feelings had been more or less the same (and that had worked out okay, hadn't it?).
But the way Phoenix was acting right now…
"Phoenix, what's up with your voice?" He asked quietly, voice trembling, thinking about the slurring and the strange behaviour, trying to work out another explanation for it other than the obvious.
"Nothing's up with my voice. I'm perfectly fine in my voice." Phoenix sounded offended as he folded his arms on the table and laid his head down on top of them, gaze slightly unfocussed.
"Uh… what?" Was Apollo's intelligent response as the cold started to spread through his body.
"It's fine," Phoenix suddenly jerked upright and shook his head violently. "Fine…" He murmured then let out a humourless chuckle. "Nothing's fine, is it, Pollo?"
Apollo was about to respond when Phoenix tilted closer towards him and the stench of alcohol made its way into the brunette's nose. Unable to deny it any longer, he found himself instinctively standing up and pointing his finger accusingly. "You're drunk!"
Phoenix squinted at him in confusion, as if he couldn't quite understand how Apollo had just moved, then shrugged and held up his hand, the tips of his index finger and thumb millimetres away from each other. "Just a little."
"Don't worry about it, kiddo," Mr Eldoon spoke softly and with a sad smile as he put Phoenix's noodles down in front of him. "This happens pretty often."
"Does it?" Apollo snapped and dragged his fingers through his hair before shaking his head. "Does it really?"
The more his brain finally accepted the fact Phoenix was drunk (alco-fucking-holic from what Eldoon said), the more his emotions seemed to spiral out of control. Hatred and regret and sorrow and suffocating fear and pure, ice cold, pitch black fury overwhelmed any sort of rational thought he might have managed and he just wanted to scream because goddammit this was pathetic but he couldn't stop it. He hated this. Hated how the very appearance of someone being drunk (someone he cared about) could do this to him.
Suddenly he let out a laugh that startled the other two men. It sounded strange to his own ears because it seemed like he honestly found the whole situation funny, but at the same time sarcasm and bitterness practically radiated off of him. "Of course it does. Fucking of course it does!"
"Apollo—" Phoenix tried.
"Shut up!" Apollo snapped, every fibre of his being telling him to leave, to run, to never stop running because this was why he didn't need people. People let him down, time and time again (always always always) and he was sick of it. Sick of getting his hopes up, of thinking he'd found someone who was different only for them to show him they were exactly the same as everyone else. No matter how much he craved Phoenix's attention this time he wasn't going to give in. It didn't hurt as much if he didn't have anything to lose.
It was time to start pretending again.
He violently tore off the red hoodie, ignoring the chill that instantly raised goose bumps along his bare arms, and threw it to the floor before glaring at Phoenix (he looked like he was about to cry) and spitting, "Stay the fuck away from me!"
Then he turned and ran.
He was so very good at doing that.
What just happened was a trauma trigger. People react in many different ways, and one of those ways is to feel the same emotions you felt at the time of the traumatic experience. Apollo's reaction may seem random and over the top, but trust me it's not. Since it's mostly been Phoenix we've been seeing, I thought it was a good time to show a few of Apollo's problems.
And yes, Athena! We'll be seeing a bit more of her, but it will still mostly be Phoenix and Apollo. Same thing goes for Wocky.
Please review. Let me know if the story is flowing okay.