Oof

you swallowed hard as you scanned your badge on the card reader, balancing the tray on one hand. the panel beeped, the light changing from red to green before the door began to slide open. it creaked and groaned, the metal grinding making your teeth hurt. it slid into place with a jarring clunk! and you made your way through and into the dark hallway.

there was a cell on the very other end of the long hall. it was entirely metal, the door was a giant vault with a medium sized window and small food port you could open to slide items through with minimal contact below it.

you knew who was in there. had heard the stories of what he had done. an involuntary shiver ran down your spine at the thought of him being only a few inches of steel away.

your footsteps slowed to a stop in front of the door. you set the tray on the ledge, slid the food port open and carefully pushed the tray of food through. it was pitch black inside the cell when you peered in. for a moment, you weren't even sure he was in there. maybe this was some kind of hazing ritual new hires had to go through to earn their place or something equally ridiculous.

"christ, this is stupid." you muttered to yourself, shaking your head a little. "you're not even there, are you? they're just... pranking the new hire."

you stood on your toes, peering in through the window and trying to squint through the dark. you couldn't make out a single shape or outline of anything. no bed, no desk, no toilet, nothing like the other cells.

you took a step back, tapping the toe of your shoes together a few times while you waited. you nearly jumped out of your skin as the tray was slowly pulled into the cell, blood roaring in your ears. you only caught a glimpse of his hand from the dim hallway light. you quickly reached forward and slammed the food port back into place, locking it with shaky hands before turning and running back where you came.

the rest of the day went surprisingly fast. you were walked through the rest of your duties, mostly custodial. cleaning bathrooms, floors, the few offices that were scattered around, even dish duty after meals. you couldn’t seem to come down from the scare as you followed your trainer around, trying to keep your hands from shaking as you listened to him explain where supplies were and your expectations.

it didn’t take you long to get used to it, the mundane routine. clocking in, cleaning, delivering food, clocking out. you never saw much of the convict, only the occasional glimpse of his hand as he took his tray and returned the old one. by the end of your first month, you were relying on autopilot to get through the routines.

you jumped as your supervisor banged on the kitchen door.

“lunch for the convict is ready.” he shouted through the steel before his footsteps faded away quickly.

you huffed, washing and drying your hands before navigating through the kitchen to grab the tray off of the warming table. you pushed open the swinging door with your shoulder, took the elevator down to the basement and made the trek down the eerie hallway for the second time that day.

you scanned your badge, entered the next hall, and soon you found yourself standing in front of the convict’s solitary cell again. you paused, listening for any sign of life.

stepping forward, you set the tray down on the ledge and unlatched the food port door, slowly dragging it open. you pushed the tray through, taking a step back and waiting. several long moments passed, your heart racing, palms sweating.

“...hello?” you called quietly, your voice echoing in the small space. “sir?”

chains clinking made you flinch, and soon the tray was being pulled inside. after a few beats of silence, the tray from breakfast was put in its place. you waited until it sounded like he had retreated far enough to take the empty tray, sliding the food port back into place.

“um… thank you.” you said quietly, before turning on your heel and scurrying out.

lunch was the same. dropping off one tray, picking up another. dinner was different.

you don’t know why you felt like it. maybe the silence was becoming too loud in your ears. you set the tray down, opened the food port, and took a step back.

“um… hi.” you said quietly, hesitantly. your voice shook a little.

he didn’t respond.

you gave him your name.

“i’m… sorry you’re stuck in there.” you continued, “it must be hard.”

you paused for a moment, embarrassment creeping up your spine. it must be hard? really?

you looked around for a moment, before focusing back on the cell in front of you. “um… do you like chocolate? i saw some in the kitchen and it’s not being used for anything. maybe i can sneak you some?”

the echo of your voice faded away, and soon the buzzing silence filled the air again. it made your ears hurt.

the chains began to clink again, and you listened as he stood up, making his way to the door. he took the tray, replaced it with the one from lunch, before retreating back to his corner. you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.

taking the tray, you closed up the food port and made your way back to the kitchen for the end of your shift.

the next morning, you clocked in and made your way to the kitchen for the convict’s breakfast. you took the tray, navigating through the maze of counters and snatched the first chocolate bar you found, shoving it in your pocket inconspicuously.

making the long trek to his cell, you opened the food port, pushing his tray inside.

“good morning.” you murmured, pulling the chocolate out of your pocket. “i brought you something.”

you set the bar beside his tray, taking a step back. he reached out and pulled the tray into his cell, replacing it with yesterday’s. you held your breath, waiting to see if he would bite. your felt your heart flutter in excitement as he eventually reached back, taking the offered treat.

you couldn’t help but grin, grabbing the dinner tray. “i hope you enjoy it.” you said sincerely, closing up the food port and retreating back to the kitchen

the treats kept coming, once a day. chocolate, warm bread, sometimes a peppermint or fresh fruit. anything to add to the slop and gruel they were feeding him. you usually saved them for dinner, hoping a treat to end the day would make night more bearable.

he never said a word, just took the food, returned the previous tray, and retreated back to eat. you never pressured him to talk, but you always talked to him. it felt strange at first, like talking to the air, like no one was listening, but eventually that became the appeal.

you told him about your day, about your co-workers, all the gossip and rumors about them. you updated him on the news, what was going on at other space stations. you hoped maybe the short-winded human interactions was helping him stay sane. if it was making it worse, you assumed he would say something. lash out, yell, yank on the door, something. maybe he just had more patience than you thought.

“lunch time.” you announced as you set down the tray, pulling a few small candy wrappers out of your pocket and plopping it onto the tray. “i found some sour candy, but i don’t really like sour all that much.”

you stepped back, and he took the tray. you didn’t hear chains clinking all that much these days, and part of you hoped it meant he wasn’t hiding in the back. he sounded closer.

“i think it’s grape flavored because the wrapper is green, but you’ll have to try it to find out.” you hummed, collecting the tray from breakfast and closing up the food port. “might be green apple, though.”

you turned and began to make your way down the hall. “i’ll see you at dinner. enjoy.”

you managed to get a decent amount of work done. there were scabs on your knees from kneeling to scrub the greasy kitchen floor, but you paid it no mind as you washed your hands to deliver the next meal. tray in hand, you made your way through the familiar halls and scanned your way into solitary.

you opened up the foot slot and slid the tray through. “dinners here,” you hummed. “i heated it up a little. it might not taste the best, but i thought maybe warmth would be good.”

the tray scraped against the ledge as he pulled it inside. you took the lunch tray as he set it down.

“maybe tomorrow i can bring you some bread. they made a fresh batch this morning, but i couldn't sneak some in time, the cook was there all day and i didn't want to get caught.” you shrugged. “i did hear that maybe we’re getting some strawberries soon. i’ll grab you the biggest one i can get my hands on.”

you closed up the food slot, taking a few steps back. “i’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early.”

with that, you turned and began the trek back down the hall. you only made it a few steps before the sound of the prisoner talking stopped you in your tracks.

“...watermelon.”

at first you thought you imagined it. you turned, looking back at the steel vault door. you took a few steps closer.

“what?” you breathed out, heart racing.

“the candy... it was watermelon.”

his voice was rough. scratchy from probably months of disuse. you blinked a few times, fingertips numb with shock.

“oh.” you whispered, “watermelon.”

silence settled over the air again and you felt a jolt of panic that he wasn’t responding. you had a taste of him and now you wanted to be greedy.

“um- do you- you, uh, do you like… sour candy?” you asked stupidly, taking another few steps closer. “i can try and get you more.”

a few beats passed.

“...yes.”

you let out a breathy laugh, nodding as you grinned. “great. yeah, i can- i can try and find more. i’ll bring you some, i promise.”

you waited for another response, deflating a little as none came. you tried not to be disappointed considering the fact that he had finally spoken to you after months.

“okay, yeah… yeah, um… i’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast.” you told him, gripping the lunch tray a little harder as you turned to make your way back to the kitchen.

Probably he'll be more upset once he's home. When he starts packing up Anika's stuff into boxes so she can come collect them after New Year's. He'll have to do all that processing and he'll put away all the pictures that are up and probably he'll remember all the good times they had together and flashes of their relationship will play out in slow motion in his mind. Like a movie montage.

Levi catches his reflection in the passenger side window and starts, pulling his thumb out of his mouth. He hadn't even noticed he'd started biting the nail.

Corey drops him off at the train station and he books a ticket to Salt Lake City and Levi wants to tip him for the ride but when he turns back the car's gone, and it's started snowing again.

He re-wraps his scarf so it covers his ears and turns back. He has to jog—ow ow ow—to catch his train.

Once arrived at the airport, Levi's gotten over being baffled and has started being mildly pissed. 

You're obsessed with work, Anika told him. You barely make time for us anymore. Yeah, he'd had to pull some long hours for the last few months, but for good reason—he'd been working towards a huge promotion and a raise and he thought she'd be happy for him.

He'd gotten the promotion, by the way. Editor in chief. He'd tried calling her first, a whole bunch of times, and then she hadn't picked up, so he'd decided Well, fuck it, and flew out to Doodootown, Utah to break the news himself.

He thought it would be nice. Spend the few remaining days before Christmas with Anika and her family in their hometown, then flying back home for Christmas and New Year's and starting 2023 off with renewed vigour and excitement. 

Then, of course, Anika told him that she wouldn't be flying back with him for Christmas. Or at all. 

Which, well. Okay. 

She didn't even congratulate him.

He checks in, and the lady at the desk asks him whether he wants to drop off his carry-on luggage for free, since the plane is very full, and Levi shrugs and says okay and watches his suitcase disappear behind black rubber flaps.

His flight leaves in four hours. 

Levi decides to pay the extra fee so he can stay in the fancy lounge, because he thinks he probably deserves that at this point. It's quiet here, though, so he orders a tea and claims a table over by the window, stretching out his right leg with a contented sigh. 

There's an empty table in front of him, but at the next one sits a man who looks so miserable it's impressive.

The man is slouched in his chair, dark hair mussed and suit a little ruffled. The cuffs of his slacks are damp, and so are his knees. He's leaning his head against the window, eyes closed, holding a bloody tissue to his nose. A purple bruise is starting to form on his cheekbone.

Levi stares.

Damn. And he thought he was having a rough day. 

Should he say something? Probably not, right. Like, that would be weird, right? 

Then he notices the small, black velvet ring box the man is fiddling with and it's like all the air's punched right out of his lungs.

Damn. 

Levi looks down and takes a sip of his tea, then hisses and curses under his breath because it's still way too hot and he's an idiot. 

When he looks up again, the man is eyeing him with mild amusement.

And there are a hundred thousand ways that Levi could have handled the situation, but before he can think about ways to not embarrass himself further he hears himself say, "Ouch. Haha."

Somebody please shoot him. 

The man raises an eyebrow. Levi gives an awkward cough, then takes another sip of tea and somehow feels betrayed when it burns his tongue again.

"Maybe you should give it a second," the man says. 

"Maybe," Levi says, "I should." His ears are burning. 

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas plays over the speakers. 

Levi desperately wants to ask about the ring box. And the bloody nose. And whether there's a correlation. But then again it is so definitely not his business, so he just stares down at his tea and watches steam rise. 

There's a sharp sigh from across the table. "She said no." 

Levi's head snaps up, ready to defend himself, because it's not like he actually asked, but then the guy looks so tired and bitter that he immediately deflates and feels both like an asshole and an idiot.

"I'm sorry," he offers, which still feels lame but better than whatever he had going on before.

The guy gives a wry smile. "Gonna, you know. Return this. She, uh, said no to the whole relationship. So."

Ah. 

"I'm sorry," he says, running a hand over his face, "I don't mean to dump all this on you."

"Oh, no, it's okay," Levi says quickly, and then before he can think about it too much, he adds, "I get it."

The other guy looks immediately doubtful. 

Levi bites the inside of his cheek. "Four years," he says with a shrug. "Engaged and everything." He gives a thumbs down and blows a raspberry. 

"Aw, shit, dude," he says, sitting up straight. He removes the tissue from his face, and seeing as he's no longer bleeding, stuffs it in his pocket. "That sucks."

Levi shrugs again, suddenly weirdly self-conscious. He traces the rim of his teacup with a finger. "Yeah, well. I didn't get beat up about it." There's a moment of silence, then he sneaks another glance. "Levi, by the way."

A corner of the guy's mouth twitches. "Xavier Ortega." 

Levi gives a half-hearted salute. "Fuckin', enchanté. Or whatever."

Again, Xavier almost smiles. Levi thinks—Levi thinks he'd like to see Xavier smile. Properly. 

And then he thinks, What. 

No, he's just—Xavier just looks like he could do with a cheer-up. That's it. And, well, so could he, really. They're both in similar boats. Although it looks like Xavier got the shorter end of the straw here, Levi thinks, considering his ruined suit and, you know, face. Still a nice face, though. Symmetrical. Strong cheekbones. Dark eyebrows over dark eyes and a straight nose and—whatever. 

Whatever.

He just got broken up with. 

God, why's he trying to justify this to himself? Why is he feeling weird about this? He's not even gay. And even if he—even if he was, it's not gay to acknowledge that a guy is good-looking. 

But, like, it's fine. He's not—whatever.

Xavier has a split lip, he notices now that the tissue's not hiding half his face. "Got you good, huh?" 

Xavier rolls his eyes. He looks away for a moment, hesitating, then stands up and pulls the chair from the table between them, spinning it around and flopping back down at Levi's table. 

Levi thinks he must look quite surprised, because Xavier says, "I mean, this is easier for conversation purposes. Unless you're fine with the yelling across tables situation—"

"No, no," Levi protests. "No, you're right, this is—easier." He clears his throat and says, "So, what was her name?" before mentally kicking himself, but Xavier just looks at him weird.

"Well, her name is Chloe. We just broke up, she didn't die."

Levi nods, puckering his lips. Right, yeah. Yes. "Is she… nice?"

"Well, she cheated on me."

"Ha," Levi says with no humour. "Samesies."

Xavier lets out a dry chuckle at this, then rubs at his eyes. "Wow. Happy Christmas to us, right?" 

Levi raises his teacup and gives a ghost toast. "Merry Christmas to us." He downs his tea, which is at a palatable temperature now, then says, "Do you want a drink?" 

-

So Chloe and Xavier had been together for almost five years. The whole story is… disturbingly similar to Levi's whole deal, actually. Chloe decides, two weeks before Christmas, to take a trip back to her hometown, gets pissed when Xavier can't just take ten days off work to come with her, goes anyway on her sister's advice, meets up with her childhood nemesis who turns out not to be so bad after all and also cleaned up unfair nice, and then when Xavier went after her because hey, she hadn't been answering his texts and he was planning to pop the question over the holidays, she decided to dump him.

"She looked me in the face," Xavier says, head in hands, "and told me she was happier there than she'd ever been with me." He looks up and runs his fingers through his hair. "And I mean, sure, we'd had our rough patches, but, you know. We were gonna work it out."

Levi hums. "Yeah, no. I get it."

"So I said, Are you fucking serious right now, and I guess I raised my voice a bit, and then Mr Goddamn Farm Guy comes storming out and squares up to me and I don't even know who this dude is, and I tell him to get out of my face, and he fucking decks me. Like, completely unprompted."

"Rough," Levi says solemnly. 

"Yeah," Xavier says, exasperated. "And he didn't even apologise."

Levi whistles low. It's quiet for a moment while they both nurse their drinks, then Xavier vaguely gestures at him and says, "So what's your Christmas Tragedy?"

Levi gives a lopsided grin. "Well. Anika goes home to Middle Of Nowhere, Utah, 'cause she said she wasn't feeling great. Wants me to go with her, I can't 'cause I'm pulling long hours for an upcoming promotion, she's pissed. When she gets back there she rekindles things with her ex—"

"Augh," Xavier says. "Brutal."

"—and last I heard the plan was for them to start a combination bakery and tearoom together. So." Levi grits his teeth. "Hope that works out for them."

Xavier looks at him over his glass, then, after a moment of careful silence, says, "You're allowed to be mad at her, you know."

"Fuck her," Levi says immediately. "Like, seriously. Why even get engaged to me if she was so miserable? Just break up with me instead of, fuckin', cheating, and then acting like I'm insane for going to check on her after she just ignores all my calls and texts and goddamn emails. We were going to get married in February, for fuck's sake. Fuck her." He presses the palms of his hands against his eyes til he sees stars. 

There it is. The upset. Figures that it's the saying it out loud that really drives home how betrayed Levi feels. Especially when he's talking to someone whom he doesn't have to explain it to, because Xavier gets it. Xavier gets it better than anyone ever will, probably. 

It's not quite the movie montage Levi had been preparing for. Rather, what Levi remembers now are all the moments that Anika said things that cut, or did things that bruised. How she'd roll her eyes when Levi got so excited he got the wiggles. How she refused to entertain the idea of getting a dog, even after he begged. How she'd get annoyed with him when his knee acted up and told him to suck it up and stop being such a crybaby. How she'd give him the cold shoulder when she was upset with him and he couldn't read her mind about it and let it build until she exploded out of nowhere. 

Little things that didn't seem like such a big deal in the time, but that added up to something like a balm for the sharp sting of betrayal.

Because that's what it is, at its core. That's why Levi is angry.

More betrayal than heartbreak.

And even though it will hurt for a while still, there's something that tastes oddly like relief at the centre of his chest, cool and welcome like a breeze on a suffocating July afternoon.

Xavier stays silent. After a moment Levi blinks hard and opens his eyes and finds Xavier looking at him strangely. 

"Yeah," he says quietly. "Fuck 'em." 

Levi's stomach squeezes.

He glances wildly around, trying to find anything to look at that isn't Xavier's face, and settles for the screen hanging from the ceiling that displays flight information. 

"Oh, look at that," he says. "I should get to my gate." 

"Right," Xavier agrees quickly. "Yeah, of course, so should I." He picks up his leather briefcase. "Where are you going, by the way?"

Levi laughs. "How wild would it be if we were on the same flight, huh?" He stands up and winces, ignoring Xavier's questioning look. "New York City. The 9:15. You?"

Xavier's eyebrows shoot up. Levi's jaw drops. "You're fucking kidding."

They make their way over to gate B9 mostly in silence, a general air of What the fuck is happening hanging between them. Not quite uncomfortable, but definitely baffled. 

"So this is weird, right," Levi says, dropping into a boarding zone chair. "Like, really weird."

"Right," Xavier says softly. Then, eyes trained on the huge Christmas tree and determinedly not looking at Levi, he adds, "Cool, though."

Levi is—Levi is a little speechless. "Yeah." He feels kind of floaty. He can't stop looking at Xavier's ears, because the tips have gone red. "Yeah. Pretty cool."

God. Fuck.

-

Their seats aren't next to each other, because that would have been crossing the line from freaky coincidence into absolutely fucking insane, but Levi pulls some strings and switches seats with the nice lady who’s next to Xavier, because it’s an exit row seat with more leg room and he has a bad knee. He tries not to look too pleased with himself as he sits down. 

Xavier gives him a look. “So do you actually have a bad knee, or…”

Levi slaps a scandalised hand to his chest. “I can’t believe you’d accuse me of such a thing. You think I’d lie about being disabled?” 

“I don’t know you that well.” 

“And here I thought we had something.” Levi sighs. “I broke my kneecap when I was a teenager. Never healed right.” 

“Ah. Sports? Don’t tell me you were a football kid.” 

Levi doesn’t know why he feels suddenly bashful. He always feels kind of stupid telling people how he got his injury; the reactions usually range somewhere between mild disapproval and straight up judgment. “Uh, no. Parkour. Actually.” 

Xavier’s eyebrows vanish into his hairline. 

After a moment of questioning silence, Levi shrugs. “I misjudged the distance between ledges. Fractured my kneecap. But I was stupid and an idiot, also, so I didn’t wait for it to fully heal before going back out, and now I am a human weather antennae.” 

“Huh.” Levi would say Xavier looks almost impressed. Mostly sort of exasperated, though. “You know what, now that you say it, I feel like that checks out.” 

Levi narrows his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I don’t know, maybe you look like the type who would break his kneecap doing parkour.”

“And what kind of type is that?” Levi is halfway to miffed and sort of offended, but then Xavier grins wide and he forgets to be annoyed. 

“You tell me.” 

It sounds too much like an invitation to be a coincidence. 

Levi can’t remember the last time he spent so many hours talking uninterrupted. Or, well, talking to someone who was actually listening to him and actively engaging in conversation. Someone who was interested in him. 

Levi can’t remember the last time he enjoyed talking to someone this much. 

He cracks a joke that makes Xavier laugh softly, and the noise goes straight through his spinal cord like an electric shock, and then it becomes a game, a challenge, trying to make Xavier laugh like that again. 

Xavier shows him pictures of his dog, a wonderfully fluffy brown-and-grey mutt named Captain, and Levi thinks he might actually pass away over how cute he is. 

“I always wanted a dog,” he says after cooing over a picture of Captain showing his belly for ten minutes. “Like, really bad. I want a dog so bad. But Anika doesn’t, so it never happened.” 

“Well,” Xavier says loftily, “Nothing’s stopping you now, is there?” 

That is an excellent point. Levi tells him so. 

Then he starts thinking about how nice it will be to have the apartment to himself for a while, and then he feels guilty for being relieved about it, about Anika not being there, and then he ponders how weird it’ll be to be alone for Christmas. 

Levi's never been alone for Christmas before. 

His family lives in Alberta, and he can't really afford another short notice round flight, and anyway the plan this year had been just him and Anika, and they'd had a reservation for brunch on Christmas day, and Levi thinks he should probably cancel that, and that's just a fucking bummer.

After a moment of thinky silence, Levi quietly asks, "What are you gonna do for Christmas?" 

Xavier blows out a long breath. "I don't know. I think I'll try to see my sisters. They live a state over, though, and it's all very last minute, I—we—were supposed to spend it at Chloe's, and I'm not big on Christmas celebrations myself, you know, my family's culturally Jewish, so… I'm not sure."

Most of the rest of the flight is quiet, and a little sad, but also nice, and when the seatbelt light flicks on and the crew announces the imminent descent Levi can't help but feel a pang of disappointment.

The plane lands. Impatience in the cabin spikes; everyone wants to get home, it's the holidays, it's cold. Levi gets up and winces, catches Xavier's eye as he reaches for his bag and hands it to him. 

Xavier is gonna call a cab. Levi is as well. 

They're standing outside.

Levi shoves his hands in his pockets. 

"Well," Xavier says.

"Right."

"It was nice meeting you, Levi. The circumstances were… less than ideal, maybe, but…" 

Levi looks at him. A purple bruise is blossoming on his cheekbone, crawling up around his eye. The tip of his nose is red from the cold. His eyes are dark but if he pays very close attention he can tell where the iris ends and the pupil begins. 

And okay. Okay.

He might be a little gay.

"But nice," he whispers.

Xavier smiles, looks down. Is it—would it be totally weird to ask for his number?

But then Xavier's cab is there, and he tips an imaginary hat at Levi before turning away. He hands the driver his luggage.

The sharp stab of panic between his ribs takes Levi totally by surprise. As does the fact that when he blinks he's closed the distance between him and the cab and is holding onto the door.

Xavier looks at him, eyebrows raised.

Levi didn't plan this far ahead, or at all. He blinks, feeling rather sheepish, then when Xavier's eyebrows start disappearing into his hairline he blusters, all at once, "So I have a brunch reservation. On Christmas Day. I was, you know, supposed to go with Anika, but, you know. And it would suck to have to cancel. And it doesn't have to be weird, or anything, we're just two guys being dudes, getting brunch." He snaps his mouth shut, absolutely horrified. What the fuck was that?

Xavier's mouth parts a little. 

God. Shitballs. Fuck. Abort. "But that would be weird, right? You know what, never mind, it's fine, forget I said anything, it's—"

"Levi," Xavier says, exasperated. He covers his face with his hands. Then he says, muffled, "Yeah, okay. That sounds nice. I'd like that." 

Oh. 

"Are you—are you sure?" 

He must sound really incredulous, because Xavier snorts. "Yeah, I'm sure." 

Slowly, Levi grins. "Okay."

"Okay." They stand there for a moment, and then Xavier's eyes go wide and he says, "Wait, I should—hold on." He digs in his pocket and pulls out his wallet, hesitates, then pulls out a small rectangular object and holds it out.

Levi's grin goes lopsided. "Xavier Ortega. Are you handing me your business card right now?"

To his credit, Xavier looks away sheepishly. "My phone number's on there."

Levi accepts the card, hoping passionately that Xavier doesn't notice his hand is shaking. "Okay. I'll text you, then."

"Okay," Xavier says. Then, tentatively, "See you soon, then?"