#xander.

❝ trust me. just this once. i promise, i won't ever let you fall again. ❞

❝ i can lose everything, but not you... oh god, not you...❞

xander’s eyes skim the crowd as he enters, hands in the pockets of his black bomber jacket when he spots a handsome man sitting at the bar waiting to be served. ( perfect timing. ) he heads for the bar and steps toward him, pulling his hands from his pockets and smiling sweetly, large round glasses drawing attention to the apples of his cheeks in his broad grin, gesturing to the seat beside him.  “can i grab a seat here and buy you a drink?”

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“ –– so i told ‘er march your sorry ass on over to loserville, babycakes, ‘cause that last box of winter greens ?  that shit was dibsed. ”  a beat. bez furrows his brow and cocks his head to the side. conjugation’s never been his strong suit, ‘specially high.  “ dibbed ?  dobed ? ”  that’s his cue to throw in the towel. 

“ well, anyhow. i gots the goods. defended my mini mart honor. good fuckin’ day. and it’s onl –– ”  a spared glance over at xander interrupts bez’s riveting ramble. he pauses, lil tic tac still hoverin’ over half-parted lips.

“ wha ? ”  green eyes widen as they drink it all in. the silence. the stare. he pops the candy into his mouth before his lips pull into a cheshire cat grin. 

mid-morning sun drenches the kitchen, enough to grant clem’s clouded world a soft, pinkish glow. her path to the island calls for fifteen steps and a quarter-point turn –– she snatches an orange with practice grace and rips into its flesh. juice drenches her hands and coils past her wrists, tangy ‘n cool to the touch.

“ mornin’, ”  she calls. manny’s still in bed, but the barefoot, oversized-tee-wearin’ gorgon knows a thing or two ‘bout routine in this house –– coffee’s already brewed. xander’s been up for a while. “ don’t need to see ya to know you look like hell. ” clem rips another orange wedge and takes her time savoring the juicy bite.

“ where’s your boy ? ”  clem finishes off the orange. light fingertips roam for a few seconds before relocating the countertop and setting the spiral-torn peel there. then she gets to work suckin’ on her fingers before the juice can dry. “ he run outta boos ? ”