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gin and sin
chapter twelve
oh you could curl me beside you
the spark in your eyes belies the Apocalypse inside you
twisting the pits from the particle
skull can't save face
dirtywhirl - tv on the radio
“…Roxas?” he asked quietly, and almost immediately the blonde head snapped over to where Sora was standing. Brushing his eyes with the back of his hand, Roxas didn’t say anything, and he still didn’t say anything when Sora quietly approached him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.
Leaning down to face his sitting brother, Sora offered a concerned expression. The kitchen wasn’t probably the best of places to discuss something like this, but at this early in the morning, there weren’t any other places to talk.
“You okay?” questioned Sora, taking a seat beside the blonde. Roxas shook his head, biting his lower lip to keep himself from totally breaking out in tears again. He was just so fed up with feeling unhappy all of the time. Containing everything proved to be way too much stress for the teenager to handle.
Not to mention the entire thing with Axel earlier in the evening had severely screwed up the workings of his head. He still couldn’t believe what he’d told the older boy earlier. It wasn’t even that he didn’t mean it, but he honestly wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do about the whole thing.
He felt guilty. He knew that much for sure. He pitied Axel, and thinking on it, maybe that’s why he wanted a way to make the boy feel that his life wasn’t a complete waste of time.
Sora stared at Roxas, who was evidently deep in thought. “…Can you talk about it? Please? It makes me anxious when you’re quiet. Riku does the same thing to me and just broods to himself,” said Sora, jutting his lower lip out in a pout. While he seemed childish most of the time, he could be perceptive if the moment called for it. “And he never tells me what’s going on.”
Pulling his face out of his hands, Roxas took one of those shuddering breaths that most people take when they’ve been sobbing for hours. It hadn’t been hours with him, but he’d had a lot to get out.
“You’re going to think I’m sick,” he murmured, his words a jumble in his sore, tired mouth. He’d been biting at his lips to keep himself quiet. After all, this was the exact thing that he didn’t want happening.
Nudging Roxas’s arm with his hand, Sora urged him on. “Come on. You can tell me. We are brothers, right? Well, not really, but you get the idea.” Sora didn’t really want to have one of those ‘heart-to-heart’ things with Roxas, because that was kind of gay and Roxas was one of those homophobic guys. Sora liked talking about feelings. Most guys didn’t. He didn’t really mind, though.
“…You’re sure you won’t freak out?”
Sora drew lines on his chest. “Cross my heart, hope to die!”
Taking a deep breath, Roxas blurted everything out in one muddled sentence. Sora stared at him for a moment of quiet deliberation, before saying; “Come again?”
Tears were steadily trickling down Roxas’s face again. Sora could barely make them out in the dull overhead light. Roxas got out of his chair to go blow his nose, trying to calm his nerves a little bit. He felt like one big disgusting mess of snot and tears. He hated crying.
Standing at the counter with a box of tissue in one hand, Roxas stared at the cabinets, trying to work up the courage to speak his mind to his younger brother. “…I kind of did something stupid,” he said, a little clearer than before.
“Yeah, so tell me!”
Again, he took a deep breath. “Well, I kind of… It’s really hard to explain.” He glanced back over to Sora, taking in the expression of understanding sketched on the boy’s face. “But it kind of ended with me agreeing to be… Axel’s boyfriend.”
Sora’s face broke into a grin. “Haha, ew.”
Roxas gave him possibly the most deadpan expression he’d ever given anybody in his entire life. “Seriously, Sora. I’ve been kind of figuring stuff out about him. Like, why he’s the way he is. I met his mom and stuff,” explained the blonde. “And, he’s kind of opened up to me… and stuff.”
“Yeah?” asked Sora, a little creeped out, but willing to listen. He couldn’t exactly say he was all that afraid of gay people anymore, because of hanging around Demyx so much. If his friendship with the guy had done anything, it had really opened his eyes a lot more. Though he was nowhere near being gay himself, he didn’t hate gay people or anything.
Taking his predetermined spot by Sora on the kitchen chair, Roxas lowered his head to the table. “And I’ve told him stuff too. He told me before that he didn’t want to be friends, but I think he actually cares about me.”
Cocking his head and trying not to yawn, Sora asked; “So, what happened?”
Fidgeting nervously, Roxas raised a hand to his cheek. At least he wasn’t crying anymore, even if his face was damp and red. He needed another goddamn tissue. Pulling one out of the flower-printed box, he sighed. “I kind of kissed him.”
“Ew, haha, that’s gross,” said Sora, in typical teenage innocence. “I bet he tasted like rot or something. He isn’t the cleanest guy around.” Roxas stared at the bizarre younger teen.
“You mean, it doesn’t… freak you out or anything?”
Shaking his head, floppy half-spikes falling around his face, Sora just offered one of those genuine Sora-smiles. “Not really. I’ve been hanging around with Demyx lately, and he’s offered me insight into the world of gay guys.”
“But that’s the thing. I don’t think I’m gay,” explained Roxas, feeling upset and confused. “I’ve never really been attracted to guys.”
Finding himself a box of Oreos, Sora was already chewing them when he gave a slightly cookie-muffled answer. “Well, maybe you’re just learning about it now, that you’re actually into guys?”
“Maybe,” said the blonde, with a sigh. He still hated the idea that he was full-blown gay. It didn’t seem really all that normal.
Shrugging, Roxas decided it was a good idea to stop talking. Switch the subject. When Sora got into the sugary foods, his brain basically became a big ball of mush; especially when it was this early in the morning.
“If you keep eating so much junk food, you’re gonna get fat,” he muttered, as Sora swiped cookie crumbs off of his lips. After a moment, the brunet stuck out his tongue, revealing a blackish disgusting mess in his mouth.
“If you keep smoking so much weed all of the time, you’re going to lose more brain cells than you already have, and then you’re going to come to your younger, virginal brother for relationship advice like some kind of social retard.”
Sarcastically laughing, Roxas got out of his chair. “I’m going back to bed.” Sora waved him off with an Oreo, and Roxas was just glad that Sora was there for him to talk. Even if it was kind of weird and gay talking about his feelings like that.
Deciding to wallow at her kitchen table with a mug of tea, Larxene stared at the photograph of her mother, hanging tilted on the wall. An expensive house, an expensive life, and she had this tilted ugly picture on her kitchen wall.
“Fuck you,” she hissed at the portrait, staring into the condescending eyes. Her mother never agreed with her life; the schools she went to, the man she married, the life that she’d made out for herself.
Not that Larxene could really blame her for it.
Marluxia was a kind of horrible excuse for a husband. He cheated on her with various underage boys, he was never home early, and when he was home it was like she wasn’t there. She knew the only reason she bothered staying with him at all was for the money, and maybe the occasional time he’d actually pay attention to her, he was kind of sweet, in a bizarre way.
It was about eight in the morning. She expected him back any moment, probably tired as all hell and maybe a little bit stoned. Larxene wondered if he’d even bother staying home at all today. He’d probably come home, pass out, and then leave her alone for Christmas.
Snorting, the woman stood up, leaving her mug alone on the table. “I’m too young for this kind of bullshit,” she muttered, shaking her head. Usually slicked back blonde hair was out of place, and she was in the comfiest clothes possible. Today wasn’t a good day at all.
The front door opened, abruptly. Larxene could hear it from the kitchen, but she chose to ignore the sound of her husband entering the house. Turning to the sink, deciding to distract herself by staring pointedly at the dishes she’d neglected to do, she was aware that he was now in the kitchen – still, she wouldn’t actively acknowledge him.
“Larxene.”
Not even bothering to look over her shoulder, she started running the water. It dripped off the plates, creating a fountain of sorts. She laughed, bitterly. “What do you want?”
“How about a ‘welcome home’?” His hands settled on her waist, and Marluxia gently laid kisses on her neck. She still wouldn’t pay attention to him, slipping her hands under the hot water, letting it redden her skin. He smelled like cigarettes. “Is something wrong?”
Not bothering to dry her hands, Larxene turned in his hold. Facing him, she found a neutral expression on his face. He always looked like he was completely bored with everybody around him.
“Nothing. You’re just an asshole,” she said, giving him an ironic smile. Placing one hand on his chest, she not-so-gently pushed him away, leaving a wet handprint on his shirt.
He didn’t look upset. Then again, he never showed her his real feelings anymore. Really, their marriage was just one big disappointment. A façade, so that he could continue his black market business under the guise of being happily married, and so that she could have everything she wanted, so she could live comfortably.
Everything was always okay as long as she was comfortable.
With a little bit of an upward curve to his lips, Marluxia advanced again. His hands were tighter on her hips, pressing just enough to make sure that he was the dominant one. It was always a power struggle with them.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” he persisted, taking note of her less than impressive appearance. Larxene was almost always concerned about the way that she looked, for some reason. It was odd to see her so casual.
Scowling, the blonde woman placed her hands over Marluxia’s, digging her long, acrylic fingernails in. His hands tensed somewhat, but if he was in any real pain, it didn’t show on his face. “Make me.”
Now, Marluxia wasn’t normally violent. He had his moments, hell, everyone did – but he’d never threatened his wife. But lately, she was really fucking grating on his nerves.
Raising one hand, he slid it under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. Her eyes were pure venom, she wasn’t wearing any makeup, and her skin had broken out around her mouth. She looked like a complete mess. Not the usual Larxene.
“You look atrocious,” he muttered, tilting her head with his hand. To the right side, then to the left side. Removing his hand, he gave her a disgusted look, before lightly backhanding her. “Tell me, or I’ll hit you again.”
This was usual. Playful taunting. They’d start with this kind of thing, though it was usually the other way around, Larxene biting him or scratching him until he got too pissed off and nailed her on whatever surface he could find.
It was a destructive, unhealthy relationship and they both knew it.
She didn’t respond. Just had a malicious grin on her face, basically stating that she didn’t care how much he threatened her. So, he hit her again. A little bit harder this time. Once more.
She still wouldn’t fucking do anything.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked, voice deceptively calm. “Are you getting off on this?” She still didn’t answer, so he took that as another challenge. He didn’t bother giving her any warning, instead shoving his hand into her hands, past the material of her panties and right into warm, wet flesh. Marluxia smirked. How typical. “You always did.”
He slid one finger into her cunt, and Larxene shivered. She was always ready for him. Wet and ready for him. He wanted to recoil in disgust. This wasn’t how love was supposed to be. But then again, they hadn’t really been in love for a few years now.
Larxene was already rocking her hips against him, and Marluxia pushed her onto the kitchen counter. He spread her legs nice and wide, and he moved in right between them. He shoved another finger into her, not even bothering to be gentle.
Pressing his thumb hard against her clitoris, remaining fingers tangled in the material of her panties, Marluxia stared hard into her eyes. “So do tell. Why let yourself go so much? Why the sad face?”
Choking on a moan, hands scratching restlessly at the countertops, Larxene tried her best to glare at him. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you,” she spat, even as she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
They kissed then, hard and violent and maybe a little bit needy. Larxene snagged a hand in the collar of his shirt, pulling his face against hers. Their noses and teeth smacked together, but Marluxia was pressing a wonderful place that sent spasms through her body, so she couldn’t really bring herself to care.
He pulled away, tugging her lower lip, still glaring at her. She had a fat lip already, a little bit of blood pooling at the cut. “Tell me, Larxene. I’m going to keep pushing until you tell me.”
Bucking her hips against his hand, she continued to glare at him. “Again. Make me. You can’t make me, Marluxia. I don’t want to tell you yet, so you’re not gonna know until I’m good and ready to tell you.”
He pushed her with his freehand, and the back of her head crashed against the cupboard. The bitch wasn’t even wearing a bra. He pulled her shirt up, not even bothering to give her the chance to say anything before lowering his mouth to her nipple and biting rather harshly.
Larxene dug her heels into his back, hissing as he roughly worked her nipple. “Bedroom, you fuckface, the blinds are open and everything,” she spat, roughly pulling his hand out of her pants.
“How romantic,” said Marluxia, snidely, pulling her off of the counter. With a bloody lip and a flushed, angry face, Larxene did not look in the mood for romance. More accurately, she wanted to kick the shit out of her husband.
He didn’t carry her or anything like that, instead detachedly walking off to the bedroom, with her following like an obedient bitch. He let Larxene in first, shutting the door behind her. She didn’t say anything else as she slid onto the bed, glaring up at him.
With his back to her, Marluxia mechanically took off his clothes. He was angry, but it was no longer the immediate searing anger that he’d felt only moments ago. He knew there were ways to get what he wanted out of Larxene, to get her to tell him what was really going on in that thick skull of hers.
Once undressed, Marluxia cornered her. Easing himself onto the bed, he raised an eyebrow at her tired expression. She didn’t really look angry, so much as upset. He sat opposite of her, not touching her, just looking at her.
“I won’t fuck you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong. It’s too off-putting when you have that sad expression,” he said, tensely. He grew tired of her evasive attitude. “Besides, I know that in the back of your mind you want to tell me.”
She clenched her teeth together, feeling horrible, ugly, cruel and horny all at once. Larxene felt like crying and telling him everything. Really, it wasn’t supposed to be a bad thing. They had the money, they had the security, but she couldn’t stamp out the feeling of utter dread.
Fingers light under her chin, Marluxia realized that she’d softened up. Perfect time to get her to say it now. He looked her in the eyes, knowing what kind of tact to use, and slowly, gently kissed her.
“You can tell me. I promise, whatever it is I won’t…”
She pulled his arm forward, placing it on her lower abdomen. It didn’t take long for realization to dawn on him. They usually used protection, what with all of his fooling around with his whores, but…
“…Seriously?” he murmured, eyebrows drawn in confusion. He didn’t want to be a goddamn father. He had too much to do. Evidently, Larxene wanted to be a mother even less.
Larxene nodded tentatively. Oh, hell, he felt a little guilty for slapping her around earlier, but he sure wouldn’t show it on his face. Expression dead, he pulled his hand away, all former thoughts of fucking her now thoroughly in the back of his mind.
Marluxia’s mind went completely blank. He found himself staring at her stomach, with a hard expression etched into his deep blue eyes. Larxene’s lips twitched up into one of her old smirks.
“Merry Christmas.”
He glanced over to the girl with a teabag dwindling helplessly between her fingers, and a snide expression worked its way onto his face. “Well if it isn’t little Audrey Ramirez, my favorite hell-raiser.”
The other people in the restaurant paid no mind to the apparently insane set of people greeting each other rather crudely. Audrey just grinned, black hair falling like a wave from under her hat. She was pretty, what with all of her attitude, but Seifer didn’t go for girls like her. Besides, she could probably kick his ass if she wanted to. Tough little fucker.
“What, you fall into a pile of hillbillies on the way here? You took forever, man,” barked Audrey, as Seifer took a seat at the booth. She looked kind of like a kid in a candy shop sitting there, feet kicking him under the table, lazy grin on her face. It didn’t help the image at all when she poured a freaking gallon of sugar into her tea. “I ordered you a coffee; they had to put a new pot on.”
“Hey, smart for a girl,” Seifer mused, sarcastically, “I bet you’ll make a good little housewife for some unlucky, masochistic bastard someday.” Audrey frowned, full lips pursed in amusement, before darting forward to slug him in the shoulder. Reflexively, he pulled away – Audrey was a lot tougher than she looked. The girl could take down three grown men without as much as a batted eyelash.
Smirking, Audrey punched him twice more. “Two for flinching.”
Rolling his eyes in amusement, Seifer was about to say something in return when the waitress placed a coffee cup in front of him. Audrey raised her eyebrows as he drank it black. She didn’t understand how people could manage that.
“You had breakfast yet, Almasy?” Audrey was hungry. She lived off of soup and whatever else she could find in her house, so going out was what she usually did. It was easier than trying in vain to cook. She usually burnt it anyway – that was what came with living with a father who believed cooking was for idiots, and ordered out 24/7. Neither she nor her sister knew the difference between a sauce pan and a spatula.
Surprisingly, the blonde nodded. “Yeah, Eiko wanted waffles. So, I broke and made some, and ended up eating all of hers,” confessed Seifer, hating the fact that his daughter had complete control over him. Audrey grinned.
“Aw, you’re just a big pushover,” said Audrey, closing her menu and waiting for the waitress to come back. “Maybe next time I’ll come over and get you to make me breakfast, too. Better than wastin’ my money all of the time.”
“You’d have to spend the night if you want breakfast. I don’t do favors for free,” jested the larger blonde, idly making a tower out of the small cups of creamer. He lined up his fork to use as a sort of catapult, launching a creamer over the wall he’d created, and right into Audrey’s teacup. The liquid sloshed over the cup and onto the table, staining her napkin. “Ten points.”
Glaring, Audrey fished the soggy plastic cup out of the hot liquid with her spoon. “Real mature,” she said, even as a grin worked its way onto her face. Placing the tea-soaked creamer off to the side, she was about to speak to the blonde again before the waitress came by to take her order.
When she ordered waffles with strawberries and whipped cream, Seifer raised an eyebrow. She stuck her long, pointy tongue directed at him. “That’s quite elegant. Twenty-four going on seven?”
She reached over the table and prodded him on the nose. “And that makes you like, what, twenty-six going on two? My little cousin used to flip those little things at me all of the time,” she said, grinning. “You’re such an idiot, Almasy.”
Time passed quickly, then, idle chatter making the morning go faster. They avoided the subject of work for the most part, because it seemed like it was the only thing they’d been talking about lately.
But for all hell, it couldn’t be avoided forever. After Seifer had snatched yet another strawberry off of her waffle mountain, she decided it was time to stop acting like idiots, and more like the cops that they were.
“So what do you think about this whole drug lord business?” inquired Audrey, forking a strawberry before Seifer could get to it. She kept her voice low – after all, they were in a public place, and they didn’t need anybody hearing.
Seifer slung his arms around the back of the booth, glancing over his shoulder. “I think it needs to get fixed real quick,” he said, face cooler, cockier than before. This was his work face. Audrey knew it well enough. “Any fucker who’s whoring out teenagers needs to get his ass kicked.”
“I think it’s weird that we just heard of him recently. Like, he musta been pretty good at cover-up, or he’s got everybody neck-deep in blackmail or something,” said Audrey, thoughtfully chewing on a fork prong.
Seifer shrugged. “I have no idea who he is or what the hell he’s doing, but we’re going to get him sooner or later. And then… I’m going to shit-kick him.” Audrey grinned, amused by Seifer’s violent attitude towards virtually everything.
“Well, we’ll bag the guy, eventually. Ansem says that he’s got a source, but whoever it is doesn’t wanna give all of the details. Reluctant to help,” said Audrey, swiping a bit of whipped cream with her index finger.
Sighing rather dramatically, Seifer leaned back in his chair. “Bunch of bullshit if you ask me. If they know something, they should just go ahead and speak their fuckin’ minds.”
Twirling the last bite of a soggy waffle around on her plate, Audrey fixed her eyes on Seifer’s expression. He didn’t look angry, so much as frustrated. If things didn’t go the way that he wanted them to, he’d often get a little obsessed with figuring things out.
But, then again, maybe it was what got the job done. Seifer didn’t quit until he was sure everything was perfect.
Pulling out his cell phone, Seifer gave the digital numbers a scrutinizing look. “Hey, look, I gotta get going for now. I got stuff to do.”
Audrey raised an eyebrow. “On Christmas Eve Day? Last minute shopping, by any chance, Almasy?” When Seifer gave her a slightly sheepish look, she knew that her guess was right. Typical men.
“Oh fuck you, Ramirez. She didn’t even tell me until the last minute that she wanted some kind of pony… thing. So, it isn’t my fault,” said Seifer, pulling himself out of the booth. He was the very definition of a ‘Bad Cop’. Muscular, handsome, with harsh eyes and an ego that could crush all others.
“Course not,” said Audrey, sipping the last of her tea. It was cold by now, but she didn’t really care. Not quite ready to leave yet, she waved Seifer off with a customary; “Later.”
Shaking her head, Audrey couldn’t resist a laugh. That guy was more of a pushover than he liked to admit.
Amid all of the chaos of Eiko groping helplessly for her presents the babysitter, a nice girl named Ariel, tried to get her way out the door. She never expected to get paid, mostly because Seifer considered her almost family, and because her father was rather well off. She didn’t even need the money.
But a big hand on her shoulder stopped her. With Eiko clinging to his leg, and a displeased expression on his face, Seifer passed the red headed girl a little gift. “Merry Christmas,” he said begrudgingly, tripping over his own feet as Eiko pulled his legs together.
Ariel blinked at him with befuddled eyes. Seifer wasn’t necessarily a bad guy, but he wasn’t the nicest one either. He giving a Christmas present to someone other than his daughter was highly unlikely. Then again, Ariel had played godmother since Eiko was born, so he appreciated her more than other people.
“Thank you!” said Ariel, gently taking the package out of his hands, before the large blonde thoroughly tackled his daughter. While he looked seriously evil doing it, once he had the little girl in his arms, he immediately started tickling her. So much for a big, bad cop façade.
Smirking, the blonde held the squealing six year old upside down. Sometimes he felt like a human jungle gym. “Now get outta here. I’m sure your daddy will throw a hissyfit if you aren’t home soon.”
“Daddy, come play outside with me!” insisted Eiko. Her father wasn’t home all that much, so she completely stole all of his attention when he was around. Ariel laughed, before Eiko crawled down from Seifer and pushed her out the front door. “Get out now!”
Waving goodbye, Ariel tried not to get the door slammed on her. She failed somewhat miserably, Eiko locking her out before she could say much of anything. Oh well! Tucking the gift away in her coat pocket, she headed off towards her car, glad that Seifer lived in a nice neighborhood.
Eiko frowned. “Daddy, you’d better tell me what my Christmas presents are,” she insisted. The girl was kind of a brat, frankly, but that was only because Seifer had spoiled her to all hell.
“And why should I?” he said, grinning as he removed his coat. Hanging it up in the entryway closet, he went to remove his shoes next, but found the little blue-haired girl glaring at him. “What?”
She crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “Dad, you did remember to get me the new Ninja Turtles action figure, right?”
Seifer’s face fell. “Er…” Might as well play it up a little. Of course he’d remembered, he wasn’t a fucking idiot. She’d only been yapping about it for the last few weeks or so.
“Ah! No! I hate you!” said Eiko, running down the hallway squealing. Rolling green eyes (which Eiko was proud to inherit), Seifer stalked off towards the living room where his daughter had retreated to.
Of course, she had to do the little kid thing and hide. Sometimes Seifer wished she’d just grow the hell up, so he could be done with this kind of thing. Then again, the teenage years would probably be even more hellish.
Standing with his hands on his hips, Seifer surveyed the living room. Some retarded episode of Power Puff Girls was on television, and Eiko was nowhere in sight. Hide and seek was a stupid game, but of course, he’d indulge the little girl.
“Now, where has she gone?” he asked himself, a slightly comical tone to his voice. He heard a girlish giggle emit from the left side of the room, but, pretending not to hear it of course, he decided to search everywhere else but the left side of the room, intentionally avoiding her so-called hiding spot.
With a smirk on his face, Seifer sat down on the sofa. “Well, I guess since I can’t find her, I’m just going to have to turn her room into a bowling lane,” he said, with a shrug, finding the clicker.
“You wouldn’t do that!” whined Eiko, from her hiding spot. Seifer just rolled his eyes. Well, she’d given away her hiding spot. It wasn’t like she’d really done that good of a hiding job. Careful to be quiet, he lightly stepped over to the rather large potted plant (which would’ve been dead had Ariel not remembered to water it), and glanced around it, finding the short girl curled up in a ball behind it.
Hesitantly looking up, Eiko frowned. “You weren’t supposed to find me,” she grumbled, slinking out from behind the pot, picking potting soil off of her pants. Seifer rolled his eyes.
“Wasn’t like it was that hard. You had better hiding spots when you were like, three,” he said, reaching down to pick his daughter up. “Hungry?” Eiko frowned.
“Make cookies with me, Daddy,” she insisted, pulling at the short strands of his blonde hair. Seifer winced, but tolerated it, only because his hands were full of little girl. “Ariel said she’d help me make cookies, but we never got to do it.”
Seifer frowned. “I guess I could try. You gonna mix for me?” he asked, carrying the girl to the kitchen. Eiko squirmed out of his arms, dropping onto the floor to drag a chair over to the countertops. “I think I still have Rinoa’s sugar cookie recipe around here… somewhere.”
As much as he used to think cooking and baking was for faggots and women, before, it was something unavoidable that he had to learn. Being Eiko’s sole provider, he had to learn how to do basic things like cooking, cleaning, hell, even sewing. None too often had Eiko ripped holes in her shirts while playing. He felt like a damn homemaker sometimes.
“Oh yeah, mommy used to bake, right?” said Eiko, opening one of the cupboards. She pulled out the largest bowl she could find, and handed up to the blonde. Seifer raised an eyebrow – they really didn’t need that big of a bowl – and placed it onto the counter, beginning to look for the notebook that Rinoa had all of her recipes in.
Ariel had been the one to give him the notebook. When Rinoa passed away, her cousin, Ariel of course, had handed him all of the little things that would eventually become important to Eiko. Recipe books, old photo albums, her favorite stuffed animal – silly, insignificant things like that.
Finally retrieving the notebook, Seifer set it down beside the measuring cups and various other instruments that Eiko had placed beside the bowl. Standing on her chair with her little hands on the counter, Eiko eagerly awaited her commands for which recipes to retrieve.
Feeling very much like an old lady, Seifer frowned down at the loopy, girlish handwriting. “Okay, first, we need sugar,” he said, glancing down to Eiko. She pointed to the canister sitting near the corner, making grabby hands towards it.
Obediently, Seifer reached for the canister, going for a measuring cup. “No, give it to me!” said Eiko, sliding it over to herself. Taking the measuring cup as well, she asked. “How many cups?”
“One and a half,” said Seifer, though, he wasn’t sure. Rinoa’s writing was a pain in the ass to read. After arranging the measuring cups in the order of largest to smallest, Eiko measured out one and a half cups of sugar, pouring it into the bowl.
Seifer found the whole thing entirely tedious. Not that he’d say it, though. With Eiko insisting that she had to measure out all of the ingredients, the process took twice as long.
When the cookies were finally in the oven, and Eiko was covered in flour, Seifer decided to ignore the mess for now, and go and sit down on the couch like the lazy bastard he wasn’t. He had his excuses—he’d been out walking all day, practically.
Eiko curled up in his lap. “Let’s watch a movie,” she said, voice a little bit sleepy. He’d come home late enough, and now it was probably way past her usual bedtime. “Christmas specials are on.”
Seifer rolled his eyes. Fuck that shit, he wanted some football.
It was never enough.
He licked his lips, turning his face back to the door. He didn’t want to go back inside, no, not yet. He felt a little bit overwhelmed, not quite knowing what to do with himself in this kind of situation.
But, he had an idea of what he had to do. Taking one last drag, he tossed the cigarette to the ground, grinding it into the icy pavement with the toe of his shoe. Tucking the crumpled carton of cigarettes and his lighter into his pocket, he took a deep breath before heading back inside.
Selphie was sleeping on the couch, already, with Roxas eating whatever he could find in the kitchen. He’d had a rather bad day, and hadn’t said much more than two words to Axel—but that was understandable. The whole denial thing had probably kicked in, and it wasn't like Axel could really blame him. A lot had happened last night, and it was probably still hanging right in the front of Roxas's head.
The red head made his way to the kitchen, patting Naminé on the head as he walked by. She looked a little bit sleepy herself, and Sora, of course, was hyper as ever, watching Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer on television.
He reached for the cordless phone, glancing at Roxas before closing his hands over the thing. “Who’re you calling?” asked the blonde, voice tinged with apprehension.
“None of your business,” said the red head, frowning. He took the phone, making his way back outside. Fortunately, Roxas didn’t follow him.
Dialing the number tattooed into his brain, Axel took a shaky breath before moving the phone up to his face. He only got the answering machine, but no matter. “…It’s me. You know who. Anyway, M… Merry Christmas, Kairi. Miss you.”
The cheerful beep of the end button was the only thing that answered him.
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