Chapter Text
Douxie scanned the café for any stragglers, it was almost closing time, and he was tired. The past had been creeping on him, and his feet felt like they were dragging through wet concrete. Thunder boomed as the bell above the door rang, a flash of lightning highlighting the slim figure coming in.
“Welcome to Benoit’s Bistro, how may I help you?” Douxie chimed, his best customer smile on display.
The figure paused on their way to a table next to the window, their face hidden in the deep shadows of their hood. They stayed silent and continued to their chosen seat, sitting, and examining the menu. Douxie’s smile faltered before becoming fixed in place, ‘Weird’
Douxie placed his broom down and grabbed his notepad, the awkward silence feeling as if it was suffocating him. He made his way to the hooded figure and stood there, clearing his throat in discomfort. “May I get you anything to drink while you decide on what to order?” Douxie fidgeted in place, pulling silently on his collar while he waited for an answer.
“Water without ice, please.” A young voice whispered.
Douxie’s smile softened, “Water without ice, coming right up.” He moved to walk away when they gently grasped his wrist. Confused and a bit startled, Douxie glanced back. “Wait.” The hooded figure rasped, hunched into themselves in clear uncertainty. “I-I’m ready to order.” They stuttered; it was clear they had not used their voice in a while. “I would l-like a,” they pause and glance back at the menu, “Sauman a` l’oseille without scallops and make the salmon the closest to raw it can be when fried.” They duck their head sheepishly, adding a nervous “please.”
Douxie chuckles at their stumbling and goes to get the cook to finish the last meal for the day when he notices he cannot. He glances at the petite hand holding his wrist in a loose grip, but it is drawn away before he can get a good look. “Sorry.” The figure mumbles, playing with a loose string on their too-big hoodie, their hands hidden from view. “No problem, I’ll be right back with your water.”
Douxie goes to the kitchens and hands the order to the chef, grabbing a glass and filling it with chilly water, ‘No ice’ He remembers. “Douxie!” He glances back, the chef continues without looking away from his preparations. “Last order of the night, yes?” Douxie exhales in relief, the chef may be nice and lax, but he can be stern when closing, “Yes Bernard, after their gone, I’ll close up. Go ahead and go home to the wife after this.” Bernard stops for a moment, smiling at the mention of his beautiful Angelica. He turns and gazes into the kid’s unnatural hazel eyes, concern, and sternness swirling in his own. “You will be careful? It is dangerous here at night. Especially during a thunderstorm.” Douxie smirks in knowing, ‘You have no idea’ “I’ll be careful, have a goodnight, Bernard.”
“You too, Douxie!” Douxie waves behind him and backs out of the swinging doors, heading to the mysterious customer who has captured his attention. Light flashes in from outside, the thunder following close behind. The figure chews at a black fingernail, watching the chaos in the sky. “One water without ice, your order will be done soon” The figure jumped, they didn’t hear Douxie come up.
“T-Thanks.” They murmur as Douxie carefully sets the cup down; the figure tracing patterns on the tabletop with hidden fingers. “You’re welcome, mate.” The awkward silence came back, “Do you need anything else?” They shake their heads. “Well, call for me if you do.” Douxie knocks his knuckles against the table before going back to sweeping, glancing back every now and then.
Alarm bells were starting to pop up in his brain, the hooded figure’s behavior putting him off-kilter. They were skinny, with long legs and a narrow waist. Their indigo hoodie engulfed their slight build with the hood hiding every detail of their face but their icy blue eyes that seemed to glow. Ocean orbs drowning with anxiety and sorrow. ‘I’ll call them oighear álainn’
“Order’s up!”
Douxie snapped back to reality and realized he had been staring at them for far too long. Shaking himself out of his daze, he hurried to get the food, pushing his worries and wariness aside. Taking the warm food from Bernard, nodding his thanks, Douxie made his way toward the table. The figure was nibbling at their sleeve cuffs. ‘Cute’ He thought as he set the plate down, the smell making his mouth water. “Here you are, one Sauman a` l’oseille without scallops.”
“Thank you.” They whisper, as if they spoke any louder, they’d break.
“Anytime, mate.” Douxie said, being genuine to his surprise. “Anything else?”
They nodded in haltered fashion, clearly debating whether to take the plunge. They mumble indistinctly. Douxie tilts his head, amusement glinting in his reflective eyes. They notice and take a deep breath, breathing out their question shallowly. “S-Some com-company would be g-great.” Douxie blinks and exhales, not expecting it. The hooded figure squeaks and hides their face, mortified. “Sorry!”
“No.” He says, “Company, Company sounds nice right now.” Douxie pulls out the chair across from them, exhausted but happy to take a breather. He drums at the tabletop, the silence making him agitated. “So,” He pauses and thinks of the question he needs an answer to. “What’s your favorite type of music?” The figure laughs shakily but answers in relief, relaxing for the first time since coming in; the storm above both their heads long forgotten in their conservation.
***
He laughed joyfully, a long-forgotten sound coming out of his lips. He covers them, ever so careful not to expose skin. When the waiter, ‘Douxie’ his mind whispers, laughs as well, a warm ember sets his heart aflame, the feeling overwhelming. White noise grazes his ears as all he can focus on is him. He didn’t want this to stop, but all good things must end. The loud ringing of a phone startled him. Douxie smiles and holds up a finger, answering the call. The golden-eyed teen smile drops as he listens to the person on the other side; checking the time on his phone, he apologizes to his friend and promises to arrive soon.
“I’m sorry, mate. I lost track of time and needed to head to band rehearsal. I’m late and my friend might literally murder me if I not there in thirty minutes.”
Ice leaden his veins as his heart drops. He nods and takes out his wallet. “H-how much for the meal.” Douxie frowns, “It’s on the house.” He nods again, slight tremors shaking his hands. He doesn’t want to be alone. When he’s alone, they come. He takes a twenty out of his wallet, extending his hand toward Douxie. “A tip, for the excellent service and food.” He whispers, his throat raw from speaking. He flinches when a warm hand cradles his ice-cold one. He hesitantly peeks at Douxie through barely parted eyelids, eyelashes fluttering. A soft grin and kind eyes greet him.
“I don’t need money, but I do need your name.”
“M-My name?”
“How else am I supposed to call you?”
He wets his lips and anxiously fists his free hand. “Jim. Jim Lake jr.”
“Jim,” Douxie purrs, “how would you like to come with me to see me demolish the others in band practice.”
“I’d like that.”
Douxie closed and locked everything, doing the leftover dishes before meeting with Jim outside.
Douxie gingerly grasps his wrist, his balmy hand near his frosty skin, drawing a gasp from him. Jim followed the older teen down streets and alleys, Douxie shooting tender smiles and gripping reassuringly at his covered wrist when his tremors increased minutely, or he began to waver.
Douxie stops at a garage, punk rock blasting beyond the metal of the entrance. “We’re here.” His gaze at Jim impossibly softens. “Now they may seem scary at first, but they are actually nice. Don’t let their looks deceive you.” Jim nods and sinks deeper into his hood. His heart may be pounding, and his legs may feel like jelly, but he wasn’t alone, wasn’t looked at with pity, and was about to have fun. His magic filled his senses and gave him courage, and just like his kin, turned his fear into fuel for his ethereal soul.
“I’m ready.”
***
Douxie smiled at Jim during a necessary break, the others taking the time to drink water, use the facilities, and stretch. Grabbing two water bottles from the mini-fridge, Douxie walked to Jim and sat next to him on the ratty couch. He handed him one with care before tearing into his, sipping it to soothe his raw throat.
Jim slowly sipped his but stopped, searching his hoodie pocket, and taking out two salt packets and a dime. He cautiously tipped the salt into the water, dropping the dime in afterward, and capped it. Shaking the bottle, Jim took a mouthful before nodding in satisfaction, the actions practiced and normal.
Douxie watched in bewilderment and whistled. “Jim, mate, you have strange tastes.” Jim tilted his head in confusion, humming when he understood. “I guess, you want a taste?” Douxie felt his brows rise in wonder, nodding a response. “Can’t be too bad.” He gazed at the bottle and an unreadable Jim before taking a gulp. He spat and coughed, spraying metallic and salty water everywhere. Laughter and outcries of shock came from Zoe and the others. None of them compared to the melodious giggles from Jim, his hidden palm trying its best to bury them.
“What the hell, man!”
“Douxie, the hell!
“Your feakin face, Doux! Priceless!”
Douxie couldn’t help but laugh at himself with everyone. Jim’s laughter was contagious. ‘Of course, Zoe wasn’t laughing, she was smirking’ Douxie thought, a glance proved him right.
“Jim, how the hell can you drink this without at least grimacing?”
With effort, Jim suppressed his laughter, a snort escaping him when he remembered Douxie’s face. Shaking with repressed chuckles, Jim shrugged. Douxie raised a brow in disbelief but snorted. ‘Just another mystery about Jim’
“Dude, why’d you choke?” Alex, Ash Dispersal's drummer asked, their multi-dyed hair as frizzy as ever. Douxie looked at Jim for permission, Jim nodding and biting his lip.
“Two large sea salt packets and a dime.” Douxie said, “It was horrible.” Jim shoved at his shoulder, “You just have weak taste buds.” He countered. “He’s got you there, Doux.” Zoe agreed, fist-bumping Jim. “Hey!” The band and Jim co. Burst into laughter again. Douxie grumbled and pouted before joining in. He observed the room and those who were there, this is why he kept going. His smile grew while he watched Jim, this is what he fights for every day. But in the back of his mind, Douxie was worried. Jim’s behavior didn’t sit well with him, and he’s determined to find out why.
***
Eli paced in front of his corkboard, mumbling under his breath. Steve ignored him and analyzed the details again, trying to find what they were missing. “It doesn’t make sense, none of it makes sense,” Eli shouted, hands gripping brown stands of hair tightly, as if the pain would clear his head. Steve sighed wearily, feeling a great weight settling on his shoulders. He rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration.
“Eli.”
He continued to pace and mumble, becoming numb to the pain.
“Eli!”
He pulled harder, running through dead-end after dead-end, throwing theories and ideas out; each increasingly wilder and crazy.
“ELI!”
Steve grasped his thin shoulders and shook him, getting his attention. “Pepperbuddy, you need to calm down.” Eli’s mouth shut with a snap, staring cross-eyed at Steve’s finger. “Ah, ah, ah, dude, no buts. You need sleep.” Eli looked away in guilt at the next statement. “I need sleep.”
Wondering when he became the one responsible, he exhaled heavily. “Look, we got school in the morning. And us CreepSlayerz need to be prepared for everything. We can’t do that if we’re drowsy and hungry. Maybe with some rest, your geeky brain would start geeking again,” Steve tilted Eli’s face toward his, poking between his eyes to emphasize his point. He yawned. “Don’t be a buttsnack, buttsnack.”
Eli’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears as he nodded. He yawned as well. “Yeah, you’re right Steve.” He rubbed his eyes. “With the appropriate amount of rest, we’ll be ready to slay. Creepslayerz?”
Eli held out his hand in a c, Steve mimicking him. “Creepslayerz.” They stood there in awkward silence, Steve coughing and Eli clearing his throat.
“I have to go to the bathroom.” Eli whispered.
“Me too.” They glanced at each other before racing to the only restroom other than his Eli’s mom’s, Steve shoving the smaller boy back. “Outta the way loser.”
“Steve, it’s my bathroom.” He whined. Steve slammed the door and locked it, cackling in triumph. “No fair, you cheated.”
Eli knocked on the door, “I really need to go.”
“Steve?”
A picture of James Lake Jr. Was pinned to the center of the corkboard, his silhouette smiling at the camera.