Everything's always useless fucking ads or bills. Kanda slammed his mailbox closed and feigned a smile, trudging up the stairs. The fact that the temperature was above average for October didn't help, nor did the insufferable idiots he had to deal with during work. He pushed his glasses back on to his face. "Who the fuck actually cares about a vase that much?" he muttered. Only when his aggravation hit a certain level did he begin mumbling to himself.
There he was, this unfortunate drudge forced to work at the Customer Service Centre. If it were any other day he wouldn't have been placed there; his manager knew better than to let him talk to people. However, someone called out for whatever reason and he was placed there for the day. I hope our sales go down and they have to fire me. Wait, no I take that back. Fire that asshole that's never fucking here. I'm always fucking here. Goddammit.
Usually the Customer Service Centre is abandoned sans for a few fretting mothers with coupons or returns for godawful flower arrangements. That just wasn't the case when Kanda was put there, of fucking course. The majority of the day was mind-numbingly boring; he only had to refund a few people on sweat-shop made Halloween decorations or give them gift cards for their inconvenience. He figured his day was going to be rather uneventful, at least, that was until this utter fuckwad walked in.
"Excuse me," he breathed, "but I have this vase with me, it's in my car, and-"
"We don't do vases, sir," Kanda stated flatly.
"I have a receipt; I definitely bought it from your store," the blond man with a Chaplin-mustache exhaled. He leaned closer to Kanda, warm acetone and rotting egg permeated the gap between them. Kanda scrunched his nose and veered backwards.
"Then go get the damn receipt. Read the sign, grandpa," he gestured behind him.
"Show some respect to paying customers," the man hissed, narrowing his eyes. He stood up straight and brushed the waist of his jacket. "Where is your manager?"
This guy was seriously starting to get on Kanda's every nerve. He gritted his teeth. "I'll go get him." I'm not paid enough for this.
As if to add insult to injury, Kanda couldn't even walk in to his flat without his neighbour tainting things. Taped to his door — like something a college student would do — was a piece of lined paper with the edge still attached. There were words on it in bad handwriting, but without actually reading it, Kanda ripped it off and tossed it behind him. He impatiently opened his door, then promptly slammed it behind him. Mugen, his cat, greeted him with a meow and a trail of muddy paw prints. Fucking really she used my goddamn plants as a litter box again?
Kanda tossed his messenger bag and coat in to his room. He began to unbutton his shirt as he kicked off his shoes. With a sigh, he removed his glasses and put them on the bar counter. He walked around the counter to reach his refrigerator. I was going to save this but today was shit so why not? On the drive home, he made plans to relax with a bottle of sake, a plate of soba and maybe some crappy day-time drama rerun. He knocked back the first glass of alcohol as if he were taking a shot. He winced as it burned his throat, "Fuck."
It was too quiet in his flat. Kanda ambled in to his living room, opened his laptop and waited for it to wake up. He assumed his music player was still running, so he hit the play button. Soft music piped through the speakers. Satisfied, he returned to his kitchen. He went through his cabinets to grab the noodles and a pot. Once the water began to boil and the noodles were cooking, he leaned against his counter and started on his second glass of sake. Maybe I can goddamn relax now. Shit.
Suddenly heavy thuds emanated from down the hall. "You! Hey, you!" The muffled unfortunately familiar voice called. Kanda's eyes grew wide and he spit out some of his sake. Oh fuck no. How the hell does he know my first name?! Without skipping a beat, he abandoned his soon to boil-over noodles and rushed down the hall. He undid his locks and slammed the door open. "What?!"
A body was on him. Kanda shoved his neighbour away, sputtering the whole time. "Go the fuck away," he eventually shouted.
Before Kanda could shut the door in the neighbour's face, a hand was flying towards him. He flinched, but the hand held the door open instead. "Wait! Wait - hold on!"
Kanda fought the force the other man employed to try to shut his door. It was to no avail. "God, fucking what?"
"You said you'd help me fix my wall!" The man looked at him through one eye as Kanda only just now noticed the eyepatch over the other. The eyepatch person waved their right arm, which was wrapped in a cast.
"Uh, no," Kanda tittered, "I said I'd give you money. Now fu-"
"Oh what smells good?" Eyepatch brushed passed him.
Kanda was completely taken aback. He just fucking walked in my goddamn flat who the fuck does he think he is? He didn't even take off his fucking shoes. I'm going to strangle him. He slowly turned around, absolute rage welling up inside him.
The eyepatch fool was looking around the flat with an air of pure bewilderment. He leaned over the counter and peered in to the kitchen, then turned on his heel and observed the living room. "Wow, our places are totally different looking," remarked the eyepatch-with-a-death-wish.
"Take off your fucking shoes when- actually, get out!" Kanda strode down the hallway, ready to grab the nearest object as a weapon.
Instead of looking threatened, the cyclops jabbed his thumb towards the kitchen and bent down to look at Kanda's laptop. "Your water is boiling over."
He stopped dead in his tracks. "Oh fuck, my soba!" Kanda nearly face planted as he scrambled to the stove. He shut the heat of, cursing quite loudly. Son of a fucking bitch my dinner is fucking ruined because this shitstain had to show up. He rummaged for a colander and a bowl, tossing them in to the sink and grabbed his pot. It was obviously too hot to handle, but he moved quick enough as to not completely burn himself. This is a goddamn mess.
"Can I try some?" the unfortunately familiar voice chimed.
Kanda whipped his head upwards to see a smile and green eye. The eyepatch creep was leaning on the counter, chin in hand, completely satisfied with the near heart attack Kanda almost had. He scowled. "No- fuck. Get out of my flat." He shook his head. Somehow, his failing noodle dish was more important than this stranger clogging up his space. I'm going to need more than this bottle of sake. He finished cooling the noodles, then turned round to the counter behind him and grabbed his zaru. As he began plating, it dawned on him that he totally forgot to make the tsuyu. A groan forced its way out of his mouth.
"You're seriously blind as shit," said that unfortunately familiar voice. Once more, Kanda looked up from what he was doing. However, the eyepatch idiot was now craning his neck backwards towards Kanda, glasses placed upon his nose.
Kanda squinted. "You're right. I didn't even see the pile of shit in front of me. Get the fuck out or I'll cut you, asshole." That looks so stupid; he has a damn eyepatch.
With a glint of amusement in his eye, the idiot raised an eyebrow and removed the glasses. He smirked and tried putting the glasses on Kanda's face.
"You have about three-seconds to leave before I snap your neck," Kanda said plainly. There was a calm rage pooling inside, his knuckles turning white.
The eyepatch idiot laughed and pushed himself off of the counter. "When you're done eating, come over and help me paint my wall. Trust and believe, you'll never have to talk to me again after we finish. Well, except for paying me back but-"
"Out," Kanda seethed.
The other rubbed his neck and smiled, a bit nervous. "Later," he mumbled, finally taking his leave.
I can't believe I'm actually knocking on his door. I must be drunk. Well, I'm not that drunk, but I did put away half a bottle. That's about the only fucking reason I'm outside this asshole's door. I mean if I didn't knock on his door he'd probably just harass me later. Well, maybe not. I bet he'd forget. I should actually just walk away now. My door is like... 3 steps away. He wouldn't even know. Except I already knocked... fuck. Why am I doing this? I mean, the knock would just be a rustling. His mistake. Well, no I bet if I left, he'd fucking bang on my door again. Then I'd have to shoo him away. This is the best choice: confront him head-on. Even if I don't feel like being around people. At all. I should get an award. Is this considered community service? But I'm drunk so it's whatever.
Kanda removed his hand from the door and sighed. At least he has a decent body... Pure mortification showed on his face: eyes wide, mouth a bit agape. His entire thought process stopped as his rationale sunk. He couldn't believe he had just thought of that. It had to be the booze. Obviously there was no way he would ever think that sober.
The eyepatch was taking too long to answer the door, so Kanda stepped back with one leg. If this prick didn't answer within the next few seconds, Kanda was going to go AWOL.
As if Kanda's intent was known, the door opened. Before him stood the ginger eyepatch, simply dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and nothing else. A large cast was towelling his hair, spraying Kanda with water. Normally, this would warrant expletives laced with a few venomous threats. This time, however, Kanda found himself fretting over a different matter.
"No shit. I didn't actually think you we're going to come over," played the eyepatch.
Kanda pulled his gaze back to the ginger's face, scrutinising it. There was something off about it. "Didn't you only have one eye?"
The ginger laughed and pushed his hair back. "I'm fully equipped with two, I promise. But this eye," he pointed to the one that's usually not covered, "is intensely lazy and a bit blind. Come in." He moved aside.
Somehow the living room was messier than it was the other day, but it was organised in some unconventional way. Instead of bottles littering the floor, it was covered in stacks of paper. Amidst the papers were empty bags of potato chips and water bottles. The couch was occupied by manila folders and three-ringed binders. An opened laptop was atop the bookcase, a few papers spilling out from underneath it. Each bundle of papers had a different colour sticky note, some bundles had coffee stains, a few were adorned with a big red X. It looked as if the entrails of a bookstore were strewn about the room.
"Why the fuck does it look like a homeless man lives here?" Kanda snivelled.
"Hm?" Lavi craned his neck back, "Oh this?" and motioned with his arm as he entered his room. "It's work stuff; I work from here. Sorry about my organisational skills."
Why does this little shit get to work from his flat? Goddammit I need a job like that. Kanda crossed his arms and scowled, wondering why he allowed himself to be in this particular situation. In fact, he should probably just leave now and forget about this whole ordeal. He pushed his glasses in to a more secure position, decided they were dirty, then removed them.
Since he didn't have a cloth to clean them, his hoodie was going to have to suffice.
"So, what do you do since you obviously don't work from home?" asked the gratingly familiar voice. Kanda nearly snapped his glasses in half. The pinkish blur in the distance was affixing something to his head, traversing through the paper minefield towards the kitchen.
Pushing his glasses against his nose and clearing his throat, Kanda grumbled a response. "I work in fucking retail, so what, novelty shirt?" Honestly, the shirt the eyepatch was wearing was utterly ridiculous as it had "Just a Poe boy" written on it with a tacky picture of Edgar Allan Poe in shades. He gingerly manoeuvred his way towards the opposite side of the room instead of standing around awkwardly. It felt nearly impossible to not step on any of the papers covering the floor.
The Poe boy swung open the refrigerator door and somehow clutched his broken hand to his chest. "That really hurt, baby. How will I ever recover?" He appeared to roll his eye. Kanda had half a mind to throw a flip-flop at the circus freak, but restrained himself for once. "Want a drink? Beer? Wa-"
"Yes," Kanda said. He swore he wasn't an alcoholic; this was just a stressful situation. Swear to god it better not taste like shit. Well, whatever, as long as I'm socialising… He stared intently at the bottles the other was removing from the fridge. IPA? Fucking great.
"Do you want a glass?" The eyepatch asked, placing the beers on the table. He walked towards a cabinet and opened it.
"I don't care," Kanda muttered, reaching almost from where he stood to grab one of the bottles. He twisted the cap off and grimaced. IPAs were possibly one of the most disgusting tasting beers on the planet until you choked down the first one and started the second. He sipped a few times, frowning the whole time. Anything to reduce the awkwardness of the situation, though.
A loud burp broke the silence. "Sorry," the ginger laughed nervously, clearly embarrassed by his lack of decorum. He pulled a chair back and sat down at his table, observing his half-empty bottle. Mild disgust surged through Kanda. "Pull up a chair," the other offered.
"'m good." Kanda took a few more sips from his bottle, then shuffled his feet. This night could hardly get any more awkward than it was.
"I remember retail," mused the eyepatch. He gulped another quarter of the bottle, then forcefully put it down. Leaning back, he placed his hands behind his head. Kanda couldn't help but notice his shirt rise bit. He quickly drowned any thoughts with alcohol. "There was once this guy that was totally trying to steal a pair of pants under his own pants. It was so ridiculous," he chuckled. "Calling him out about it in front of a bunch of customers was super awkward, too. Imagine being like, 'Sir, I need you to remove your pants,' in front a queue of people. A few old ladies dropped their shit right there and walked out."
Kanda smirked. Oh no, was he mildly amused by this? Oh, ew, do I actually want to comment on this? His grip on his bottle gradually became dangerous, so he stormed to the table and slammed it down. Instant regret pooled over his hand as the beer erupted from the bottle. "Oh fuck me." He chugged what he could to stop the overflow. The other was laughing and wiping down the table.
"No big deal," Lavi said.
To calm himself, Kanda sat in the chair opposite the ginger cyclops. "Fucking… this one goddamn guy today, sweet christ." He knocked back the rest of his drink, covered his mouth and tried his hardest to not burp. "He just fucking wouldn't shut up about a goddamn vase. We don't even sell them!" He focused on the empty bottle, peeling the label off with his thumbnail. He was actually holding a conversation with someone, or what he considered to be a conversation. Fuck this word vomit crap. God, why did I drink?
"I feel ya," Lavi sighed. He knocked back the last of his drink, as well. "My real issue, though, is my boss." He grimaced. "He's sub-letting me this joint since it's close to him and he can just come over whenever to grab all the hard copies; hence the massive shitstorm in the other room. He's real old fashioned that way. I even email the geezer, but he still goes on about 'hard copies are the only real form of literature.'" Kanda didn't even have to look up to know that the eyepatch was flailing his arms and rolling his eyes. "What the fuck is that even supposed to mean, ya know?"
Kanda pulled his lips up slightly and snorted. His eyes widened and his face fell. Shit, he actually was amused. The eyepatch took the small amount of mirth as an OK to continue ranting about whatever it was he was talking about.
Eventually, Kanda felt his mind spiralling away, all thoughts shutting down. How long has his bastard been talking for? He could feel his eyes glazing over as an utter lack of caring washed over him. The other's voice had become nothing but static. Before he completely fell away from reality, his silence was interrupted.
"Oh, hey, want another beer? And like my boss-"
Kanda snapped backwards — sharply inhaling — and almost fell out of his chair. He blinked a few times and adjusted his glasses. He discreetly wiped his mouth to make sure he hadn't drooled. The other gave him a quizzical look as he stood up. "Yes, do that. But you don't even know because my fucking hippie-dippie boss, let me tell you. This goddamn son of a bitch just fucking draws in a stupid sketch book all day!" I don't fucking understand; who the fuck does that? You run a store, not a fucking art gallery. A second bottle was placed in front of him, cap already removed. He drank deeply; his attempt to quell his suddenly boiling nerves. "He ain't no fucking Picasso or some shit, like damn."
Lavi chuckled, then plopped down on his chair. He put a glass down, then clutched a bottle to his chest with the broken arm, struggling to twist the cap off. Once he removed it, he poured the beer. A quiet moan escaped his mouth as he damn near drank the whole damn glass. His cheeks were beginning to get a tad rosy, his eye already becoming glassy. He pushed his hair away from his bad eye, then rested his chin on his hands, blatantly staring at Kanda with a smile.
"Fucking what?" Kanda took a swig from his bottle, choosing to look away from the green eye that was surveying him.
"Is your name really Kanda? It's weird for a first name," commented the eyepatch.
What the fuck kind of question…? "Uh, it's my last name and none of your fucking business, Lavi," Kanda spat. "Like that's any sort of normal name, fucker."
The ignorant eyepatch shrugged, unfazed. "Hm, but what's your first name?" He leaned closer to Kanda, so in return, Kanda moved back.
"None. Of. Your. Business. Stupid. Eyepatch." He pressed the bottle to his lips and titled it back. The fucking nerve.
"It's now my personal goal to have you tell me. Oh, and why don't you wear contacts? You have a pretty face." The eyepatch smirked and made a weird jerking motion with his eye, which Kanda assumed was a masterfully failed wink.
"Are you fucking flirting with me?" Kanda sputtered. Oh god no please no this is not happening right now. He quickly looked out the window and started to chug his drink. He could hear the other one choke on his beer. Good. I fucking hope you drown.
Laughter filled the room. "I'll only flirt with ya if you want me to, pretty boy."
This time, it was Kanda who choked on his drink, coughing uncontrollably. He was horrified. "Fucking asshole," he managed to say. Still, he couldn't bring himself to storm off as he usually would. Fuck alcohol. Fuck this day. Fuck everything. He was still coughing and covering his mouth with his arm. Tears ran down his face. Feeling the cool liquid on his skin caused him to realise he was sweating. When the fuck did it get so goddamn hot? The booze must've finally started to kick in completely since the heat was overwhelming.
His coughing fit subsided allowing him to remove his hoodie. He took off his glasses and placed them on the table, then wiped his face. He cleared his throat and put his glasses back on. "Uh, what?" He held the bottle to his mouth, glaring.
The ginger bitch was grinning, a look of triumph smeared all over his shitty face. "Yuu."
Kanda coughed, almost choking again. "Ex-fucking-cuse me?"
"Your name tag, my dear Yuu," enthused the douchecanoe, pointing at Kanda's chest.
"Oh shit. Fuck. God dammit." How could he not have realised that he wore his work shirt here? How did he not realise that his name tag was pinned to his shirt this whole fucking time? Why didn't he take off his shirt earlier — like he normally would — and put something else on? Kanda nearly ripped his shirt trying to remove his name tag, swearing under his breath. "If you fucking ever call me by my first name, I will not hesitate to gut you like a fish." He shoved the defaming pice of plastic in to his pocket, smouldering with anger.
The ginger twat waggled his eyebrows, smirking with pure delight. He leaned back and reached for a cigarette from the box on the table. Kanda scrunched his eyebrows. Before the idiot could bring the cancer stick to his face, Kanda grabbed Lavi's hand. "No." He watched as panic came across the other's face, but his eye softened.
"You gonna stop me somehow, pretty boy?" This conceited fucking asshole I swear to god I'm going to gouge his eye out in his sleep so help me. He pulled his hand out from Kanda's and brought the cancer to his lips. After he lit it, he opened the window and exhaled outside.
Kanda crossed his arms and legs, leaned back in his chair and glowered. "Tch. Fine. Fucking suck that nicotine dick, fag. I'll just leave so I don't have to slowly die, too."
"Don't be so melodramatic, Yuu." Lavi ashed the cigarette outside.
Unadulterated rage surged through Kanda's veins. "I fucking just said not to call me by my first name, you piece of shit. You know, why the fuck am I even here?" He stood up and realised that there was something important that they both seemed to have forgotten.
"Oh. Oh my god," the shitty pirate dropped the cigarette out the window and slammed his head on the table. "My fucking wall."
Kanda stared at the scorched wall, a sinking feeling emerging from within his gut. On the wall opposite him was a kitchen clock that only made the feeling worse. I'm going to be fucking hungover in the morning and I have work. Perfection. "You know what? Fuck it. I'm out. I have work." He turned towards the exit.
"But my wall…" whined the ginger. "You know you're going to have to come back to help me fix it, right?"
Without turning back, Kanda barked, "It's fucking not going to happen any time soon, shitty eyepatch. Don't you have friends for that?" He nearly forgot about the paper shrapnel cluttering the floor as he stepped in to the living room.
"Well, yeah, but you promised, and not fuckin' tomorrow since I'm busy but-"
Kanda stopped and faced Lavi, who was laying his head on the table and pouting. "I'm leaving now," Kanda declared. There was no protest from the other, just a grunt and a sigh. On his way out of the flat, he nearly tripped over a stack of books. "And fucking clean this shit up next time!" Wait, next time? What the fuck? No, fuck that.
The scent of clean linen and cat greeted Kanda when his face hit his pillow. He groaned. Why? What was the point of literally any of that? He groped for a place to put his glasses before he fell asleep. There was an abrupt "mrow" and weight was on his back. "Fucking shit, cat." He rolled over, forcing his cat to retreat. Coloured static filled the space between him and the ceiling. A wet nose pressed itself against his face and he pulled his cat closer, much to her dissatisfaction. "Don't fucking ask for my attention then be a bitch about it, Mugen." He sighed, closing his eyes, wanting to forget about the conversation earlier. Pretty boy? Fuck him and his stupid pretty eye and pretty face. Wait, no. He groaned again, furrowing his brow. The worst thing about all of this was the fact he was going to have to go back to this douche's flat at some point. Not wanting to think about the upcoming encounter, he rolled on to his side and cut off all trains of thought.
A/N:
ごめんなさい orz
lo siento
I'm super sorry this took so long to be released!
I had massive writer's block and was dealing with a bunch of papers for class. Not that that's any excuse. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, though. It's been a dickyear since I've written a chapter to this length for any fic.
I hope to have the next chapter out sooner; I just lack someone with native english skills to edit XD However, it's already in the works :3
Side note: I mean no offense by the slur