Content warning: mentions of un-aliving yourself

“Okay, you titless fuck,” I (endearingly) bagan when April answered my call. “I’ll be there soon, so don’t break anything. And I’m bringing a guy with me, so maybe behave like a regular fucking person for once in your life.”

“Ooh is he your boyfriend?” she mocked.

“April, if I was bringing your dad with me, I would have just said that,” I told her sarcastically. Duke, who was getting dressed next to me and could hear everything, did not like that comment. “How is Allen, by the way?”

“... You get twenty minutes before I start cutting up the furniture. I suggest you hop to it.” With that, she hung up. I knew she wasn’t joking so I jumped to my feet and grabbed some clothes from where I left them on the floor.

“Who’s Allen?” Duke asked, his voice icy.

“Her dad,” I answered, then held up a hand to stop him from speaking until I finished. “I just slept with him once, and it was seven years ago. I only bring him up as a joke to annoy her,” I explained. 

“Okay,” he conceded.

I took my clothes with me into the bathroom to change, and decided to shower when we got there to save time, so I just washed my face.

When we got down to the parking garage I was a little surprised that Frank was there again to drive us. “Are you working today?” I asked Duke.

“No. Well, there’s nothing planned really, just a few loose ends to tie up in the evening, but I can do that from home,” he answered me casually. I figured it was safe to assume that Frank was Duke's personal driver, rather than strictly the wheels for work.

“Alright.”

He was quiet for a moment while we got into the car. “Are you curious about what I do for work?” he asked cautiously.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” I stated dryly. Duke and Frank both smiled at that. I genuinely just wasn’t interested, but I guess it was also simply safer not to know any details about what they were doing. Plausible deniability, and all that.

“Do you have a job?” Duke asked.

“Yeah.”

“What do you do?”

“Cry, mostly,” I answered with an exhausted chuckle. “I do art. Like comics and paintings and stuff.” 

“Oh! So that’s why you were drawing me last night?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re really good!”

I just gave him a silent thumbs up at that. I’m never sure how to respond to compliments about my art when they’re given face-to-face, since usually people only see my stuff online.

“Where to, Boss?” Frank asked once Duke had won the struggle of getting me in his lap once more.

“Soot’s place.”

“Again? Did you forget something?”

“No, someone broke in,” I explained. “And she’s making us an apple pie.”

“Does she do this a lot?” Duke asked me.

“Well, she doesn’t usually break in,” I said thoughtfully. “But yeah, she comes over and tries to feed me every few months or so.”

“Why?” He sounded annoyed. “Are you friends? Are you getting back together?” 

I scoffed. “No and no.” I hadn’t given much thought to April’s visits for a long time, but being asked about it made me remember why it started in the first place. “She just does it for peace of mind.”

“How so?”

“Well…” I glanced at Frank, then Duke, and faintly wondered if this was something I should be talking about. I didn’t mind saying it, but I thought that they might not want to hear it. “She caught me trying to kill myself a few years ago. I guess it traumatised her or something. Now she checks in every so often to make sure I’m alive.”

Duke tensed up. After a moment, Frank spoke, but he didn't look at me or change his expression. "Is that why you said it doesn't matter if you get killed?" he asked.

"Pretty much," I answered. I could feel Duke fidgeting. 

"Why did you…" he began, uncomfortably. "No, you don't have to answer that." I tousled his hair.

"I don't even remember anymore," I told him honestly. "I'm not dramatic enough to try it again, so don't worry about it." He still seemed pretty worried. "But, hey, if someone else tries to kill me…" I laughed, thinking that would lighten the mood.

"I won't let that happen," Duke resolved, squeezing his arms around me tighter.

"Aren't you the most likely one to do it? C'mon, you can kill me: I won't get mad," I joked, nudging him.

He looked really uncomfortable (which I found pretty funny, honestly) so I decided to show mercy and gave him a little kiss to cheer him up. 

It worked.

When we arrived at my place he told Frank to stay in the car.

April was poised with a kitchen knife held threateningly against one of my chairs when I opened the door (I guess we were cutting it close to her twenty minute time limit). She let out a whistle when she saw Duke, eyeing him up and down quite openly.

“Don’t be rude,” I scolded her, walking in and prying the knife from her hands. “Duke, this is April Crosswoods. She’s the devil. April, this is Duke,” I introduced, using the knife to point at each of them in turn before putting it in the kitchen sink. I saw that she’d already stewed the apples for the filling, but there were still plenty left.

“I thought you were bringing a boyfriend?” April inquired, sitting down on the chair she nearly stabbed. I’m sure that chair will resent her for the rest of its natural life.

“What makes you think I’m not his boyfriend?” Duke snapped sharply. I thought “probably the fact that you aren’t,” and gave him an unamused look.

“Oh, sorry,” April retreated, actually looking a little afraid, which shocked me. “You’re just not his usual type. Like, at all.”

Duke pouted. “What’s his ‘usual type’ then?”

“Uh… twinks,” she answered.

I couldn’t argue with that.

“Well, he’s not my boyfriend,” I said to clear the air. “He’s my owner. I’m his cat.”

“Since when are you into pet-play?” April asked. That was the first time I properly wondered if that's what the situation actually was. I still don't know for sure.

“I’m not. Anyway, would you like some tea? Duke, do you want coffee?” I asked, filling the kettle. My shoulders relaxed after I’d offered them drinks. They both accepted.

“So how do you know Soot?” April asked, a bit stiffly. She never usually had trouble talking to people, but I guess even she would get intimidated by someone like Duke.

“I met him while I was at work,” he answered. It was a pretty pedestrian way to explain things, but not a lie.  “What about you?”

“We met at a youth group.” I felt a little panic when she said that, because it was an LGBT youth group, and I thought that he would find me out. But then I remembered that, obviously, he would just think I was there for being gay. Not that any of that mattered at all, since April didn’t specify what type of group it was. “We dated for a little while,” she continued, (is three years “a little while”?) “but it’s nothing to worry about: I’d rather eat sand than date him again.”

“The feeling’s mutual!” I called back. “If you were the last woman on Earth… well, I’d still be gay,” I countered, somewhat pathetically.

“Good one,” she mocked.