Characters: Jayce Zaytsev, Mandila Armani
Started Feb 25, finished July 7. Damn you, lack of motivation and the deep dark depression my mind lurks in 75% (if not more) of my waking hours!
All characters and plot references are original and made by me, the oh so wonderful “flowersforsunday” tumblr blog Also Known As sunday.
All characters are Fictional and are not made to represent any real people. All religions mentioned are FICTIONAL and are not meant to represent any real religions.
All “TYPOS” are spellings or grammatical decisions made by GØD. Therefore, they are not mistakes, but instead LANGUAGE DIFFERENCES AND ORIGINAL CONTENT WRITTEN WITHIN THE SCRIPTURES.
Noticing any will be enlightening. They Are Not Mistakes.
Oh, how the day was truly wonderful! The sky was the deepest shade of red, the clouds empty, the tallest buildings miles below the top story. How he loved this time of day, this very, very specific time, oh yes indeed! The man smiled his knowing smile, tapping his long fingers against the glass. A quiet cough came from behind him, and his head whipped around– too quickly, it almost seemed like his neck would snap. The rest of his body followed as he took a step towards his desk, greeting the newcomer with a slight raise of a hand. Said newcomer edged away from the door, scratching his neck. For some reason, he seemed nervous. Weird! No idea why, haha!
“Heyoooo, Jayce! Boss-man, sir… eh…” Mandila tugged at his collar, hands forming finger guns. The CEO made no sound, simply sitting down and staring directly at his employee, who laughed awkwardly in return. “Soooo. Uh. I was wondering… well, you know that new guy? Theodore… Volkswagon, or whatever the fuck–” he quickly covered his mouth as Jayce’s eyes narrowed, clearing his throat. “Ahem. Sorry. What I mean to say is that he’s all worried about uh… pay…” he trailed off, letting out a loud sigh.
The other clicked his tongue, smile never wavering. “Mm. Mr. Armani, would you like to take a seat? Make yourself comfortable, relax. There’s no need to feel nervous.” Mandila’s shoulders slumped, a defeated look on his face. He spun the chair in front of him around, falling into it while heavily aware of Jayce’s eyes boring into the back of his head. He tapped his knuckles against the armrest, taking a deep breath, before turning back to his boss. “You’re here to talk about Mr. Volkov, yes?” Mandila nodded, brows furrowing.
“Well. Erm. You see, he’s… he’s new, you know?” He paused momentarily. “He… he doesn’t get the rules around here. Quite yet, I mean! He will eventually. Haha… yeah. He’s just a newbie, you know? Can’t really do much about it…”
“Stop talking. I get your point, haha!” Mandila’s mouth quickly shut. “Say, you always find these new employees. It’s almost impressive, although it’s been a while since I’ve seen you so passionate about one…” Jayce tapped his chin, his false advertisement of a smile widening slightly. “It must’ve been… Mm.” The man behind the desk’s face seemed to change, almost contorting as the smile dropped and tears began to fall, streaming down his face in waterfalls and splashing like blood onto the surface below. There was anger carved bitterly into his eyes. The rest of his body continued to stay still, hands clasped on the table as if glued into place, while Jayce (or not ???) began to sob. Mandila froze, eyes widening as a voice that did not belong to the other rang in his ears. “MANDILA? MANDILA, HOW COULD YOU? HOW COULD YOU DARE TO SHOW YOUR FACE TO ME AFTER WHAT YOU’VE DONE! AFTER WHAT YOU DID TO ALL OF US!! HOW COULD YOU, HOW COULD YOU?”
Mandila felt himself lurch back in his office chair, his hands beginning to shake and his palms growing clammy as sweat trickled down his temple. Why was it so warm now? He fixated on his shoes. It didn’t stop the noise that ate through his eardrums, worming its way uncomfortably into the folds of his brain and gnawing until he began to see faces faces so many faces. He could not think or speak or argue. A young woman was singing in the background or was she screaming or was she crying or laughing or looking up in terror at a hanging body Did she Love or Hate or did he know her did he know anyone at all did he know himself Did he know himself?
Yes, that had been what Jayce had asked him that day. He remembered it clearly.
Was he truly going with what he wished for?
Was he following his deepest desires?
He had placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder and led him out the door. He had told him to think on it. He wouldn’t have to come back for Jayce to know the answer, he had said, he would show it through his actions. And he had. He had on that day.
More recently, he had asked a similar question, one that made Mandila flinch as if struck on the face with a tenderizer.
“Do you regret your decision?”
He hadn’t sounded angry, but Mandila knew that if he answered incorrectly, there would be consequences. Injury, death, maybe even losing his position.
The words had felt stale coming out of his mouth. He remembered the familiar taste of metal, a familiar sense of searing pain like a scalding knife being dragged against the back of his throat.
His employer’s smile widened.
Mandila had been comforted afterwards, told that he had made the decision GØD wanted for him. He decided to believe that. Just this once. GØD believed in him. GØD would guide him, it would teach him right from wrong, it would love him when no one else loved him.
The man’s eyes shot open, making contact with his boss’s. His face was normal. There were no tears, not even a hint of them. His mechanical smile was still sewn onto his face, his hair laid out exactly the same as it was every day.
Mandila felt a soreness in his teeth and realized his jaw was tightly clenched. He relaxed slightly, rubbing it with the back of his hand and looking away from Jayce.
“Make eye contact when speaking with your superiors.”
“Now, will you tell Mr. Volkov that I would like to talk with him personally? No guilt on your end, you’re only The Messenger! It’s no fault of yours that he needs a few adjustments.”
“Yes, sir.” Mandila mumbled, nodding as he felt his voice die as they came off his tongue. He gave a weak smile, standing up and pushing his chair back into the desk. As he approached the door, Jayce spoke. One more time.
“Mr. Armani, I do hope your answer hasn’t changed.”
“No, sir.” He fumbled with the handle as he stepped into the bright hallway outside. The plaque on the door seemed to mock him. Are you sure?
He had always been bad at making decisions.
Notes - I Love Jayce Zaytsev He’s Just A Silly Fellow Don’t You Know ! Everyone should shout twink and throw rocks at him
