#kazxmp

for the best friend and most chaotic member of the garbage gang @kazxmp

The throbbing headache that pounds to the beat of the hammer grows more painful by the minute, and it is exactly then that he decides that he's not going to put up with this anymore. 

To be fair, he has been advised to stay somewhere else and there was ample warning about the noise, but this is just ridiculous. When nothing is being hammered, it's being drilled and when nothing is being drilled, something is beeping or some godforsaken machine mimics the sound of a plane engine right outside his window. 

He doesn't know whether they're repairing a busted pipe, installing a new streetlamp, repaving the whole street or just playing some potentially deadly joke on him. At some point, he'd lost enough will to live to give a shit about it. 

All he knows is that he has to get away from the building before he's going to snap.

And he does get away.

Or, at least, he plans to. 

There is nothing polite or timid about the way his fist bangs against the door in a poor excuse for a knock. But there doesn't have to be any of it. Because he doesn't have to be polite or timid around this particular apartment's resident anyway. In fact, he might find himself at the receiving end of a sucker punch if he'd start behaving friendly, and he would neither question nor contest it. 

“Kaz, open the door, or I'll find another way in.” Despite the threat they present, his words come out in a sing-song, as if to minimize the severity of it. Maxim is sure that his best friend knows him well enough to recognize that he will find another way in, if he loses his patience. It’s a trait of their friendship that might seem fucked up to others, but is strangely unsurprising to either of them. 

Carter was sitting in the waiting room of Marimo Ink, a bag of sea salt chips on his lap as he waited for his friend to stop talking to one of the artists -Noel, he thought he was called- before making it somewhere else for his lunch time when he heard it.

'Everyone has a part of themselves that they hide, even from those they love most.'

He hadn't intended on snooping at all, the sentence just reached his ears and somehow had made a dent in his thoughts strong enough to have him ponder about it in between munching. Did he also have that side? His ears turned a shade of red when he admitted to himself that he did. It was just so hard to be truly oneself around others. Did they hid it to keep others safe? Or to keep themselves safe?

He wanted to ask, but only managed to give the man who'd said it an understanding look before Kaya grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him out of the shop.

He had to ask her about introducing them sometime.

Esther had been watching a customer play on the piano, having bet that they could perform Flight of the Bumble without missing a single note. So far, she had been rather impress by the work that they had done. However, she had noticed that there had been a few stray notes that had not been hit. And while she could easily point that out, she was merely pleased to see someone else enjoy their own rendition of such a hard piece.

When the other spoke, she jumped. Her hand raised her chest, and she let out a breathy laugh. "Oh. I appreciate the interest, but sometimes, the best customer service is allowing the customer to win." She smiled up at the other, rather cheerful. The other's performance had put her in a great mood. "Plus, did any of use really lose if we got to hear that?"

"Then good for you."

Noel looked up from his station after giving it a good extra scrub, his wide grin indicating that he was merely teasing his cuppycake of a younger brother. "But I can do no such thing!" He exclaimed loudly, throwing away his used up pair of gloves before making his way to the younger male and wrapping his arms around the other's shoulder and leaning down to nuzzle his hair. "You'd miss the sound of my melodious voice, I know it."

"... What?"

Kaz had had her with the first sentence, at least, but everything after that may as well have been edgy gibberish. It was also just a bit of a nonsensical answer, since she had asked if he wanted to try any of the new summer pastries the Flower Mill had on offer.

"... So just the coffee, then? If you drink enough espresso, maybe you'll dissociate and ascend to a new plain of existence. Or just die. Either way, shedding the mortal coil, I guess."

His eyes stay focused on the small rock hidden within the uncut grass just a few inches away from his foot as he semi-registers Kaz’s words. Maxim knows of his tendency to dissociate whenever he’d get high, yet to him, it felt more like a perk than a disadvantage. To finally be free of worries or any consequential thoughts and instead just wonder how that one rock got so smooth and who might’ve kicked it before and how long it’s been around. He felt content. Especially in the company of Kaz who—as much as his sober self would hate to admit it—could always cheer him up somehow. Even if it took some harsh words, punches or presumably irreparable psychological terrors. 

Confusion is written on his features as he first looks up in contemplation and then over to his boss, trying to reliably decipher the meaning of his words. A lazy smirk turns into a smile as he slowly shakes his head. “You make no fucking sense to me right now.” Maxim chuckles as he fishes the last cigarette of his pack out, his mind still trying to understand the meaning of Kaz’s words.

“You are perfect to be the worst person alive, if that’s what you were asking. …or saying.” His eyes briefly fix on the rock again, his process of dissociation only broken by his addiction telling him to light the cigarette that was now between his lips. 

“Explain it as if I’m high as fuck.” To be fair, he is. But maybe there is a chance Kaz hasn't noticed yet. 

cont. from here with @kazxmp

There is always a catch with Kaz. There is always a catch with Kaz. There is always a catch with Kaz. 

The words replay in his mind like a mantra, twisted and full of rage. Maxim is, to put it mildly, furious. Most of it is directed towards his boss, with a small portion spared for his own naïveté. It didn’t occur to him back then to ask for a specific amount, and of course Kaz, being the menace he is, would take that opportunity to mess with him as if it was his universe given purpose.  

It takes him way longer than it should have to find the difference in pay between the two paychecks in his hands, the first from this month that contained the raise and the other from the previous one. Five fucking cents. That bastard sure had some nerve, Maxim had to give him that. 

His eyes shift towards the butter knife on the counter he didn’t bother putting away this morning, and for a second he imagined it getting stuck in Kaz’s eyeball as he’s twisting it. Would that be enough to hurt him without giving him the pleasure of turning him on? 

Before he can even register himself taking out his phone, he already sent the message to his boss. 

Starter for @kazxmp