alex-hyun
Carpe Noctem
Alex Hyun // 28 // Mechanic // N̶e̶c̶r̶o̶m̶a̶n̶c̶e̶r̶
《《 °• – I am just a worthless liar
I am just an imbecile
I will only complicate you
Trust in me and fall as well – 》》
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rookiebeatangel:
✧༺♥༻∞ Just Friends ∞༺♥༻✧
“Mhm. Zhilei Chun…enchanté.” Zoe murmured demurely, despite her eyes narrowing on Alex over a forced hollow empty smile.
It was all she could do not to stamp a designer shod foot out of frustration. Seething silently, she cursed everything but especially this strangers unwelcome presence. Damn Natanael Tian Qi Lim and his bleeding fucking heart! This was suppose to be a nice dinner date for just they two. She needed to siphon from Nate and she couldn’t do so efficiently with Mr. Goodwill Convict loafing about.
✧༺♥༻✧
Alex found it amusing how Nate just stared. At first, he wondered if maybe he’d put the shirt on backwards, or if he’d suddenly had a change of heart and was attempting to come up with an excuse on the spot for why they should call this whole thing off. He could practically hear the internet dial-up noises coming from the other’s head. It’s not like Alex cared too much. The trade-off of getting take-out from his favorite Chinese spot, and playing tug-of-war with Pepper and one of his socks she’d probably stolen until it was time to smoke a bowl and settle in to play video games was a pretty damn good one.
But then he repeated himself three times, and that got Alex’s attention. He bit his lower lip to attempt containing that smirk that wanted to form, and he resisted every urge to goad Nate into telling him more about what he thought of him in that shirt. But in an uncharacteristic move, he simply dropped it, and got into the car after a quick “Thanks, mate,” was uttered.
Sliding down into the passenger’s side of Nate’s ride, Alex quietly admired it briefly, nothing that he hadn’t been inside a Polestar before. Most everyone he knew with electric cars drove a Tesla, and they were annoying as fuck to deal with when they were brought to the shop. Elon Musk could eat his entire ass with how that battery placement had been designed, but that was neither here nor there. Alex’s attention soon turned back to the soft, rosy warmth that colored Nate’s face in a rather noticeable way during their drive. He wanted to reach out and touch the smooth expanse of his cheek to make sure it was real, and not something Alex was imagining out of the depths of his own depravity. Had he wanted Nate to blush like that?
“So, are you one of those Earth-conscientious guys? I mean, tryin’ to save the planet and all of that, or are you just wanting to save on gas?” he asked, trying to strike up a conversation. It wouldn’t hurt to get to know more about Nate’s motivations, would it?
But Nate didn’t respond right away. It was like his mind had gone somewhere else, and if Alex hadn’t known better, he’d have called it a thousand yard stare. But Nate seemed to be cognitive enough to keep his eyes on the road. But then it seemed like his question made Nate register there was someone there with him, when he broke out of that trance. But Alex didn’t feel like repeating himself. Maybe they didn’t need small-talk.
“How far til we get there?” he asked instead, looking away from Nate until he felt the hand on his thigh, and and before he had a chance to react, he saw a white flash and felt a jolt that startled him, if only because of the flash. “Mate, are you alright? That wasn’t static, that was a shock. You sure you don’t need me to look at your car? Could be somethin’ loose somewhere,” he said, chalking it up to the electric car. What else could it have been?
But then came the barrage of apologies, and Alex quirked his brows, giving Nate an incredulous look. The fuck? A small smile started forming on his plump lips, seemingly forgetting the little event moments ago as the profuse apologies spilled out of Nate like water through a broken pipe. “Stop that,” he said with a certain warmth in his tone. Why was he so damn cute and smoking hot? Who gave him the right? “It’s fine. You should let me take a look at this thing, though,” he said, bringing his gaze forward again, though he paid attention to Nate through his peripheral vision.
What a strange man. But still, Alex found himself wildly attracted to him and wishing he wasn’t. This was the equivalent of a parole officer. They weren’t even proper friends, were they? Maybe they were. He’d think about that later.
Finally, they’d arrived at Les Nomades, and Alex already suspected this was going to be a colossal waste of money for food too pretentious for his likes. He tried not to look like a complete street rat, though, and walked in with a confident swagger beside Nate. At least he was dressed for the occasion.
Despite their brief wait, Nate tried to engage him in a little small talk, and at Nate’s question, Alex chuckled and was about to respond that it wasn’t his scene when they were interrupted by a shrill voice. To Alex’s ears, it almost sounded like nails dragging across a chalk board, but he tried pushing the thought away. This was Nate’s friend, after all. At least she was good-looking. He could tell that she was way the hell out of his league. Not even in the same sport. He reckoned her dress alone cost more than Hermes, but he didn’t gawk. Instead, he smiled as she greeted Nate with the familiarity of close friends... or perhaps more. Fuck, was Nate dating this chick? No... Nate didn’t seem like the “married to his work” type. He didn’t date, did he?
The more he heard her speaking, the more annoying she became, however, much to his chagrin. Even he was bothered by the way she touched on Nate. Glancing at him. Alex wondered how the hell Nate had the mental fortitude not to tell her to piss right off. And to take her hand like that? It was enough to make him visibly cringe, although he was glad neither of them had been looking in his direction at that moment. He was content with just being arm candy and letting his mind wander off to whatever it was that he had going on tomorrow until a few moments later, Nate seemed to remember he was right there, and introduced them.
Alex kept his thoughts to himself in regards to their “favorite toys”, wondering just how much fucking play money they were rolling in. It’s not like he was destitute, but he certainly wasn’t made out of the same kind of money the other two seemed to be. When she turned her scrutinous eyes towards him, he felt a sense of discomfort. Like he was being assessed for something that made something inside of him want to snarl back. But he kept that same courteous smile plastered on his face as they were introduced. Alex could put on a convincingly good fake smile.
That smile on her lips wasn’t genuine, either. What the hell was this chick’s problem? He didn’t trust her with a ten-foot pole, but he’d do his best to remain pleasant, if only for Nate’s sake. He held a tattooed hand out to hers for a shake, if she’d take it.
“Nice to meet you, Zhilei. Alex Hyun. I’m a mechanic at Gearworks downtown,” he said, hooking his thumb over his shoulder, as if the place were just outside, even if it wasn’t. “What can I say? I love a good side project,” he lied with a saccharine smile. Although he was warming up to the kids, at least. And some of them seemed to have warmed up to him, too. It wasn’t a stretch to say he did have a soft spot for those kids who felt like little reflections of himself as he’d been once upon a very long time ago.
Was it time to go home yet?
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rookiebeatangel:
(...) “If you want to come, I’ll can loan you a dress shirt. We’re roughly about the same size, so it should fit and I always have a spare in my car, since honestly I spend enough time in a uniform that I’d rather not wear one to dinner too.” Actually, Alexander Hyun was a bit taller and broader in his shoulder area—but Nate wore his clothes a size up for comfort so Hyun shouldn’t feel too constricted. Luckily Les Nomades was more of a business casual eatery and not black tie kind of place..
Homan Square Community Center 6:55PM
Alex was equal parts disappointed and relieved that Nate had made dinner plans. There was a strange, sinking sort of feeling in his chest, but at the same time, relief that maybe he could just go home and eat leftover Chinese and become one with his couch while playing Diablo 3 for the billionth time. It’s not like he couldn’t use a break from all the work he’d been thrusting himself into. From his usual work load at Gearworks, to the additional load at the end of the day with the kids at the Homan center. Not to mention his regular workouts, and taking care of Pepper. Alex felt exhausted, drained both physically and mentally.
Still, he couldn’t exactly explain why he felt energized around Natanael Lim. The officer was nothing to him, nor was he anything other than a parolee for him. They coudln’t even call themselves friends, could they? Alex didn’t know very much about him to begin with, aside from what superficial conversations they’d had here and there. What makes you think someone like that wants to associate with someone like you, Hyun? The voice in his head almost felt like a stranger’s. Maybe it was, for all he cared. It’s not like hearing whispers at the peripherals of his mind weren’t common, tracing back all the way to his childhood. Medication dulled them, and when he got shitfaced, there was a reprieve, and he could no longer hear the grief he had become accustomed to.
But then just when Alex pressed his lips in a placid smile to tell him ‘some other time, then,’ and forget about it, Nate beat him to it and invited him to come along. Alex’s first instinct was to decline, but Nate said “you should come,” and there was something almost hopeful in the sound of his voice, unless Alex was imagining things. He licked his lower lip softly, wanting to say yes, but stalled as he realized Les Nomades sounded pretty fucking fancy, and he was still in his work clothes. Once more, he opened his mouth to speak, but it was almost as if Nate could read his thoughts when he spoke up again.
Alex chuckled, raising his brows. “It’s like you’re readin’ my mind over here,” he mused. “I wouldn’t have anything to wear. I mean, I wouldn’t wanna impose, you know? But if you think it’s a good idea and you have a spare shirt or somethin’, I guess we could do that. I could just leave my bike here and come get it later, I guess,” he said with a slow shrug of his shoulder, bringing his fingers up to run through his thick mane of dark brown hair. “You sure your friend won’t mind?”
When Nate found a shirt for Alex to wear, Alex took it and disappeared off into the bathroom. He wanted to wash his face at the very least, and make sure he didn’t have oil stains anywhere, and the last thing he needed was for someone to see him changing oudoors and accuse him of public indecency or something.
He went off into the men’s bathroom and locked the door, letting the collar of the shirt hang from the door knob for a moment. The t-shirt he was wearing had a few stains on it, so he peeled it off and bunched it, setting it on top of the paper towel dispenser, then gave himself a good, long hard look in the mirror. Exhaustion still painted his face, but surprisingly, it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been earlier in the day. Alex leaned in, hands pressed to the porcelain as he inspected his face for dirt, blemishes, or anything else that might seem unsightly. A hand came up and his fingers glided across the smooth expanse of his jaw, around the chin, and over his lip, inspecting for any shadows of hair he might’ve missed while shaving in the morning, but he was smooth.
Oak Lawn, Illinois. 2004
“Haha! Alex, you’re only twelve, son, all you’ve got is peach fuzz at best,” Mr. Bowen said, reaching over to dab Alex’s nose with a little shaving cream. Alex still couldn’t bring himself to call him dad, even after a year and a half of living with the family. He just needed a little more time. Jeremy Bowen was a tall, broad man with kind blue eyes, and and short, black hair he liked to push up in the front. He looked like someone from a magazine with the way he dressed, too. He also usually wore a short beard, but today was his anniversary with Mrs. Bowen, and the two of them would be going out for dinner while Alex and Delilah, the cat, stayed home with a sitter. Just for a couple of hours, they’d said.
“I still wanna know!” Alex said, shrugging lightly looking at himself in the mirror.
Alex had never had a real father before. He remembered some of the men in the commune, from the bits and pieces of memories that stayed with him, but he was largely ignored by them. The woman who birthed him hardly treated him like her child, and more like an inconvenience, or some kind of disappointment.
The Bowens weren’t like that. Anna Bowen called him sweetheart, and explained to him that although he would get a little sister soon that looked like them, that he was still their son, and that they loved him very much. Mrs. Bowen was kind, older than his birth mother, with short brown hair and brown eyes that looked bigger because of her round glasses.
Jeremy smiled, reached over to ruffle Alexander’s thick, unruly hair, and passed over a container with a brush and mixed shaving cream in it. It smelled like cedar and vanilla as Alex stirred the creamy mixture. It looked expensive, and he smiled, looking at himself in the mirror.
“Alright. You first wanna wet your skin with warm water. Go ahead,” he began, and Alex followed the instructions as they went along. He brushed the luxurious shaving cream over his smooth, damp face. Jeremy didn’t let him hold the razor, not wanting the boy to accidentally nick himself and both get a scolding from the Mrs. “You go slowly, with the grain in the direction of the hair growth. Nice and easy,” he said, gliding the blade smoothly over the already smooth face. Alex smiled, and Jeremy chuckled quietly. “You gotta keep your face still, kiddo. Poker face. Go like this,” he said, twisting his mouth to make the skin over his cheeks grow taut as he explained. “And again, go slowly, but not too slow. If you rush, you risk cutting yourself, or not shaving the hair properly. Never rush through a good shave, and invest in a good razor and cream. It makes a difference from those cheap razors and shaved cream canisters you get at the drug store, I promise,” he said, not that he expected Alex to remember any of that.
But he would.
In fact, that was the last time he’d get to bond with Mr. Bowen before the grisly murder that would happen that night just before leaving.
After that, it wouldn’t be until he was sixteen years old that he began truly shaving. It wouldn’t be until he reached his early twenties that he remembered to invest in a good razor and cream.
Underground VIP Lounge, 8:15pm
He glanced down at the screen of his phone and smiled to himself, as if he’d just received a juicy tip from an insider source. Hermes had been left at the Homan center, largely unattended. It was inside the establishment, so he knew he couldn’t do anything about it, but the next time that bike was out on its own, Judah would strike.
This is turning out better than I’d anticipated. That little songbird SINGS.
The plan was coming together slowly, but surely. Alex was starting to become more trouble than what he was worth, and with his mysterious disappearance from the A’war twins, and the circumstances of their defeat, he couldn’t risk his operation. He needed Alex put away somewhere where he couldn’t cause trouble or attract the attention from other supes that seemed to be flying under the drug lord’s radar.
We’re going to cut the brakes on that bike the next time you leave it out, my dear.
Maybe hospitalized, he would stay out of the way long enough for him and Pontiac to make his move on the little fucking boy scout that seemed to have had Alex in his grasp. So much so, that Alex wasn’t going out as often as he did, and didn’t stay out nearly as long when he DID go, either.
Community service. What the fuck is the matter with that boy?
Present
Alex put his hands under the faucet, wetting them down. He raked his wet fingers through his hair, loosening the light bit of product he’d put into it in the morning to keep it from frizzing up, and reworking his hair in a different style. He parted it off-center, sweeping it back away from his face and tucking some behind his ears. I look like a fucking K-drama character or something, he mused to himself, chuckling quietly and debating messing his hair up again. But he wanted to look nice for this, especially if he was meeting a friend of Nate’s. Alex didn’t imagine the officer would hang out with people like himself. He grabbed the gray shirt and pulled it on slowly, making sure it fit. It seemed fine for the most part, aside from it feeling a little snug around the biceps and shoulders. As long as he wasn’t doing jumping jacks, he’d be completely fine, and so would the shirt. At least his jeans seemed to have survived the day, and his boots were easy to clean off. All he had to do was take a paper towel and wipe off any oil that had dropped on them from earlier. That would have to do.
It felt odd, but when he looked at himself in the mirror, he looked... presentable. At least, in his opinion. He chuckled quietly to himself, knowing that Marty would probably flip out if she saw him in a button-up shirt and his hair out of his face, so he pulled his phone out and took a little selfie, sending it to her with a caption.
[Alex]: Wish me luck. I’m going to a sit-down dinner. 😜🤙
It didn’t take long for him to get ready. He undid the top two buttons, giving himself a little more of a casual look, then grabbed his old shirt, rolling it up tightly into a tight cylinder in his hand, and walked out of the bathroom again looking for Nate. When he finally found him, he gave a little half-turn, then stood up straight. “Alright. What do you think? I mean, I could always just go home and shower properly or whatever and meet you there, but if you think I look alright, then I’m good to go, mate,” he said with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
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“I knew I did from that first moment we met. It was… not love at first sight exactly, but- familiarity. Like: oh, hello, it’s you. It’s going to be you.”
— Mhairi McFarlane
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rookiebeatangel:
RABBIT SIMULACRA
(...) “He’s sleeping now. You don’t have to worry anymore if he’ll come home to you. If he tries to leave again before morning make sure you bite his ankles real bad, Pepper.” Kneeling down he fed a treat to the little dog who sniffed at him with curiosity and “spoke” in his mind of walkies, her humans weird hours and the joy of eating the smoked sausages from which her name was derived. Chuckling to himself at her simple, familiar doggish desires, Nate finally let himself out.
RIVER CITY APARTMENTS 10:00AM
Alex had to scramble for an excuse to give Marty for his lateness. He’d promised he’d be on the straight and narrow for a while after having spent a less than cozy night tossing and turning on a hard cot beneath bright, fluorescent lights and cold air conditioning at the precinct. When Marty bailed him out, thanks to the leniency he was granted, Alex made a promise, not only to her, but to himself that he’d lay off the hard drugs and keep it to just minimal weed usage and the occasional drink at home. But an invitation came by way of his dealer, promising him the finest herbs and the purest tabs, and it wasn’t an invitation that was easy to turn down. Alex said no at first. But he was easily persuaded to come “just for a little bit,” and unfortunately, it didn’t quite work out the way he’d planned.
Vivid, maybe even lucid dreams plagued him that night, but none that made any modicum of sense. The more he thought about it, the less it made sense, and the more surreal it all felt. Was his subconsciousness trying to tell him something? He dreamt that he saw an angel with a bright, glowing halo-- or maybe it was a street light behind him-- either way, the angel looked just like... Nate Lim? Maybe he was more attracted than he initially thought he was to the man if he was starting to see him in his goddamn acid trips. He couldn’t imagine the amount of shit he’d be in if the real Nate had caught him like that last night. But there were no arresting officers here this morning, so it had definitely all been a weird, trippy ass dream.
Alex remembered flying over the rooftops of the city, soaring through color-streaked skies like he was in some kind of fucked up, rejected Tame Impala music video. He was chasing something-- or something was chasing him? In his dream, he remembered reaching out to try and touch the colors of the rainbow that swirled around him as though they were living, breathing things. Whatever the fuck he’d taken, it was potent. Of that there was no doubt, but it left him wondering what happened and how he inexplicably ended up tucked back into his bed in the safety of his apartment. Had someone brought him home? Had he walked himself home? The questions only mounted in his head like a pile of dirty dishes that needed to be washed, but Alex put those thoughts away for later as he realized his alarm hadn’t gone off. Alex rubbed his face and pushed himself up and back so he sat against the headboard of his bed. He exhaled a heavy breath and reached for the painkillers, popping them into his mouth and chasing them with water. He sucked down every drop from that bottle, realizing that his mouth felt like a salt lick and he was dehydrated. Everything hurt, except for the usual spots, which made him wonder if it meant that he’d puked his guts out somewhere along the way.
There wasn’t much time to speculate as he dragged himself out of bed, feet pressing against the cool softness of the carpet around his bed. He padded off towards the bathroom and began to strip off the remainder of his clothing, and let the hot water run. Alex gave himself a good, hard look in the mirror. His hair was an absolute mess, and it was getting shaggy again. His broad, inked shoulders drooped a little, as if carrying some invisible weight that pressed down on his head and made everything throb. Looking down at his muscled arms, lifting them and turning them a bit, he didn’t see any new scars or bruises. He had a bruise on his outer thigh, but that could’ve been anything. It was likely he slammed his leg into something and didn’t notice, he thought. Alex opened his medicine cabinet, putting together the usual cocktail of prescription anti-depressants, anti-psychotic, and anti-anxiety medications, and downing them with a sip of water cupped into his hand from the faucet. They kept the ghostly shadows he sometimes saw at bay, but didn’t make them disappear entirely. He needed a refill soon, and had a doctor’s appointment coming up soon. An appointment he had to be absolutely clean of any recreational drugs and alcohol for. Fuck. Once steam began to fog up the mirror, Alex slipped into the shower and let the piping hot water relax his muscles. He pressed his forehead into the cool tile, closing his eyes as the heat poured over him, washing away the tension he didn’t know he had as he mentally prepared himself to face the day.
∙∙·▫▫ᵒᴼᵒ▫ₒₒ▫ᵒᴼᵒ▫ₒₒ▫ᵒᴼᵒ▫ₒₒ▫ᵒᴼᵒ▫ₒₒ▫ᵒᴼᵒ▫▫·∙∙
Breakfast wasn’t part of his usual morning routine, but Alex decided to whip together some piping hot rich, fluffy, golden dime stack pancakes-- with extra crispy buttery edges-- doused in hot, sugary maple syrup. He didn’t like the artificial stuff very much, despite everything else. And it was certainly a step up from salty, savory Vegemite on toast, which is what he usually had when he DID have breakfast. It didn’t take him very long to prepare them, throwing together a quick batter and cooking them on the only non-stick pan he owned. He even made a small one for Pepper who seemed a little more clingy than usual that morning. He ofcourse blew on it until it was cool enough for her to eat. After breakfast, Alex washed his sticky hands before clipping Pepper’s leash on. He decided to drag himself out of the apartment momentarily to take her up to the rooftop, not having the energy to take her out on a proper walk. His entire body felt weak, and a part of him wondered if he’d had sex with anyone-- or rather, if anyone had had sex with him. But he didn’t feel the usual soreness from nights such as that, and if his earlier assessment and note of lacking bruises was anything to go by, he’d had an easy night. Sort of. As Pepper wandered around looking for a place to do her business, Alex zoned out for a moment, thinking about the way he simply let moments like that run their course, and it made him feel foolish. It was messed up, and he loathed himself for it more than anyone could begin to guess, but he knew that the less he struggled, the quicker it was over and the sooner he could get away from it all. He didn’t want to think of himself as the victim of abuse, especially because he was a strong man otherwise, and that kind of thing wasn’t supposed to happen to strong men. Alex didn’t want to think about it anymore. His thoughts jumped to Officer Lim. What would he say if he knew the truth?
“I don’t have to know you personally Mr. Hyun, I know your type!”
Those words resonated in Alex’s mind quite randomly from one of the previous conversations he’d had with Natanael. Why wouldn’t Alex get him out of his head? Was it guilt? Something else?
I’d be in such deep shit if he found out what happened last night.
Gearworks, Chicago. Noon.
"You’re late, and you look like ass. And on top of that, you need to remember that you’ve got community service to do this afternoon, so you have to leave early. Alex, I swear to god, if you’re not taking this shit seriously, I will not bail you out next time. I’m gonna lose my best mechanic, and you’re gonna rot in jail eating green jello and sharing a cell with some guy named Rick who wants to own your ass.” Marty wasn’t in a good mood today. Alex could tell she had another fight with Junie, and it would be best not to poke the bear with snide comments, especially when he was running over an hour late to work.
“Thankfully, you’re fast and your work is good because Mr. Sprtizner is coming by in less than two hours to pick up his Bentley and you still have to put it back together. I expect it to be done before your first snack break, Hyun. I’m serious.” Marty’s soft brown eyes had a hardness to them when she glared at Alex, who met her with a sheepish smile. “You got it, boss. Sorry. My alarm didn’t go off today, that’s all, and I still had to let Pepper out, but I’m here! We’re gonna make today our bitch,” he said, slinging a dark gray shop towel over his shoulder, walking down the smooth, mirror-like polished tile of the showroom. Ferraris, Lamborghinis, and Rolls Royces lined it, awaiting pick-up from their affluent owners who trusted none better than Martina Calderon and her mechanics to make them run like new.
Alex took the service elevator just behind the front desk down to the actual garage, greeted by the familiar smells of car oil and exhaust. The two mechanics already there were busy with their own work, barely noticing as the other strolled in at his leisure. Marty was lenient, but only if their work was worth it, and it was an unspoken understanding between them all. Sometimes, Ross would be the late one, sauntering in with stories about his conquests of the night and his Tinder app horror stories of climbing in and out of married women’s windows. Other times, it was Matt with an over-enthusiastic play by play account of last night’s hockey game, a perfect imitation of Pat Foley and his excitement, and the subsequent account of the party that followed, regardless of who actually won. Alex didn’t go into too much detail about his own exploits. Mainly because they weren’t worth sharing. What began as stories telling of partying and dancing the night away at a night club always ended with “and I can’t remember the rest ‘cause I was too fucked up, but it was fuckin’ great.” Alternatively, he’d come bringing stories about the races in Lower Wacker.
“There he is! Was starting to wonder if we were gonna get a call to scrape Hermes up off the ground somewhere, bro,” Matt said, looking up from the hood he was bent over towards the tattooed Kiwi.
“Nah! Just had a long fuckin’ night. And my alarm didn’t go off. I’m here to chew gum and kick ass, and I’m all outta ass to kick,” Alex joked, finally reaching his workspace.
Slipping earbuds into his ears and a piece of gum into his mouth, Alex began to blast music as loud as he could handle, given the headache he was still nursing. Music somehow made it easier, though, even if it was as noisy as the current band he’d been hooked on. The hard experimental hip hop with electronic and heavy bass sounds of Guillotine by Death Grips blocked out everything else. It made it easier to ignore the darkness that lurked at his peripheral vision.
It goes, it goes, it goes, it goes, it goes, it goes - yuh!
Out of the shadows barrage of witch tongue
Cobra spit over apocalyptic cult killer cauldron smoke
Alex felt relief, grabbing his toolbox, work gloves, and getting right down to work on assembling this thing again. Putting things back together made him feel sane. He was good for something, and people actually liked his work. Maybe he wasn’t creating things, exactly, but keeping them from the brink of death and irrelevancy was something he took pride in. He was a fixer. Cars, motorcycles, even goddamn lawn mowers. Alex could fix anything with a motor that he could get his hands on. The crisp, clean clinking of metal and slick shine of oil never gave him backhanded compliments. A well oiled machine thanked him by running smoothly and never by taking advantage of his despondence. And thankfully, this one would be finished long before it was due to be picked up, much to Marty’s delight.
Underground VIP Lounge, 5AM
Judah was getting tired of this. It seemed as though Alexander had become more and more difficult to keep squarely under his thumb. Ayanet and Bilal had proved utterly worthless at subdoing him, and as a result, Judah lost track of him for the night before the main event he’d planned. A warlock of Alexander’s caliber was mostly useless, but he still had his uses, but the A‘war had been interrupted. Attacked, really.
A Seraphim? Why the fuck would a Seraphim be there of all places?
His silvery eyes narrowed, pinning his gaze onto the security guard ahead of him. His long, slender, tattooed fingers curled around the front of the man’s scruffy throat, and he tilted his head. "I want a sweep of every security camera in the vicinity. Whoever got a hold of my men is going to find out the cost of meddling in my affairs, and if you find nothing, I will kill you.” It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise from the drug lord who ran the city’s most notorious crime syndicates. The security guard knew that he was completely and utterly fucked if he didn’t produce a feed from somewhere that could help identify the perpetrator.
The last thing the warlock needed was for this operation to get sloppy. The interrupter of the A’war’s feeding got away and now knew of the demonic activity at the Underground VIP Lounge. In part, he was glad, because he knew he’d be dealing with an even more useless Alexander had they truly had their depraved ways with him. But on the other hand, that meant trouble and interruption to his business. Pontiac wouldn’t be pleased if he knew Seraphim were here getting involved in this and looking to start trouble, and Judah’s underground operations would be in jeopardy. Whoever it was that interrupted their affairs needed to be taken out and quickly.
MingHin Restaurant, Sometime After Dawn
Kai could sense that the silver haired man was more than he appeared to be, but who was he? Why had he never seen him before, and how was it possible for him to appear to have vanished into thin air the moment Kai looked away? He was so busy trying not to get caught by the alphas that patrolled the far side of the club that he lost sight of Alexander and the demonic creatures that held him captive. By the time he realized they’d taken him outside, it was too late. He arrived to the empty alley, just a few seconds too late to follow up on anything. Once again, the night was a complete bust, and he had to hurry back to the restaurant before the sun came up. Something happened, and he needed to get to the bottom of it, but what did he have? He needed to investigate Alexander and figure out exactly what happened to him.
Homan Square Community Service, 6: 53pm
Alex arrived fifteen minutes early. He didn’t even see Nate right away when he’d first arrived, going directly to Miss Molly’s office about getting started with the kids and getting his work with them underway. He was... oddly quiet that day, barring his interactions with the children and doing his best not to appear as though his head was throbbing. Truly, it felt like someone took a sledgehammer to it, but that was no excuse for him to be late.
He especially didn’t want Nate to suspect he was still working through the after effects of having a bad trip, and somehow getting an unknown amount of sleep from the night before. It had been less than ideal, though. A little progress was made on the bus as he drew a diagram of the vehicle’s exterior, explaining to the kids that they would need to take the body apart, sand off the old paint and rust-- something everyone could do as long as they had gloves and goggles, while he and the older kids worked on identifying the faulty parts, taking them out, and getting ready to replace them with the new ones once they came in.
There were hardly any fights, and what bickering there was, Alex was able to mediate by delegating tasks. He caught sight of Nate a few times, and Molly speaking to him but avoided making eye contact for fear that somehow, the man would be able to read his mind and see that he was having fucking DREAMS about him.
Now, Alex was finished, he washed his hands and afterwards sucked down an entire bottle of cold water that was left for him on top of one of his work stations, until the kids were all gone and it was just him and Nate again. He was sweaty and grody, but he felt oddly accomplished, which... wasn’t a feeling that came easily these days. Thankful for the day to finally be over, he wiped his face and neck with a towel and began the process of putting all the tools away again. His stomach growled, and Alex remembered he hadn’t eaten since those pancakes in the morning.
"I should probably head out. Kinda starving. But that was fun,” he said, mustering up a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, although he noticed that somehow, that headache that had been splitting his head all day long was now gone, and he felt reinvigorated somehow.
“You uh... got plans for food tonight?” he asked. Alex didn’t know where the hell that came from. It’s not like he could cook. Maybe he could get take out. He’d planned on just keeping his head down and going straight home, but it seemed like his brain had other plans as he posed the question for the other. Maybe he liked Nate more than he let himself admit.
Fuck.
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