Sleep is a luxury.

One that Zye isn’t allowed even on his days off.

The usual nightmare has him jolting upright. The only problem is that he didn’t fall asleep in bed, as per usual, and instead on the couch. The sudden movement has him disoriented and reaching out to lean on what should be the mattress. However, his hand goes through the air and he tumbles off the couch.

Thankfully, he barely misses the coffee table.

For a moment he simply lies there. Staring up at the plain white ceiling, he can only try to shake away the dream. It dares to linger as well as a headache that’s already sprouting. He’s not sure if it’s from the small fall or the fact that reliving his past is the absolute last thing he wants to do when he finally has a break from reality.

Thirteen years later and he still can’t seem to out run it— never will be able to either. He lifts his hands to drag over his face and up through his shaggy black hair, of which the bangs are dyed pink. Zye’s almost tempted to simply fall back asleep. After all, the floor isn’t that uncomfortable.

Just as he thinks he’ll be able to, he hears the chime of his phone ringing. The noise pierces through the quiet apartment. Atop the glass tabletop the small pen-shaped device rattles and buzzes toward the edge. Zye pinches his eyes shut and tries to ignore it. He works the type of job he has for a reason; getting to choose when he goes in versus not.

The tone indicates it’s his boss and yet he dares to ignore it. The phone goes silent after a few seconds and he’s allowed to sigh. As he closes his eyes he’s interrupted once more. This time by soft knocks on his door. Zye can’t stop the groan from echoing out while he sits up. “I’m coming,” he calls out and the knocking stops.

Zye scoops up his phone and makes for the door. He flips the lock, swings it open, and raises an eyebrow at the youth standing before the threshold. “Need something, kid?”

Blue eyes glance everywhere aside from Zye, not confident enough to make that eye contact even after all the years they’ve known each other. “Well… I figured since you said you didn’t have work today… Um…”

“Yeah, yeah, come on in.” He steps to the side and allows the teenager to scurry inside. A yawn slips out as he shuts the door. Zye is just turning around when his phone rings again. “Make yourself at home, I’ll be right back.”

The boy plops down onto the couch, short blue locks bouncing against his face as he does. Even brighter sapphire eyes watch Zye as he strides quickly to the kitchen. Zye only lets the transparent screen extend out and answers the call once he’s far enough away to have privacy. “I told you I wasn’t available today.”

“And there’s a change of plans.”

“Look, boss, I’m in the middle of something. Can’t you get someone else?” Zye glances back out to the small living room where the TV has already been switched on with the volume kept low. “I wish I could help ya but I’m busy.”

“Our client is specifically requesting you. It should only take a few minutes.”

“The drive to the warehouse is at least twenty.”

A sigh from the other end of the phone. “They’re even willing to pay an additional fee to have you be the one to deliver it. A fee I’d be more than happy to give directly to you.”

Zye chews on the corner of his bottom lip. He’s not hurting for cash at the moment but with all of the medical bills rolling in day after day he’s not so sure. It doesn’t hurt to have more in case another emergency hits. “Fine. But only this one.”

“That’s all I ask. I trust you’ll be in soon.”

He can’t respond much less take a breath before the line goes dead. Zye scoffs and brushes his finger over the glowing screen to make it vanish. Work is not something he wants to do right now. He convinces himself he has to.

Seeing as the boy is entranced with the television, it gives Zye a moment to hurry back to his room and put on a fresh set of clothes. Well, that and get himself presentable. When he walks back out into the living room his guest gives him a curious look before turning away.

“They called you.”

Zye rubs at the back of his head before walking over and scooping up the helmet to his motorcycle. “It’s just one gig. I’ll be back before you can beat chapter one of the new game. It’s already in the system so have at it.”

“Are you… sure? I can leave…”

He rolls his eyes and pockets his keys next. “Come on, Xerxes. Relax.” Opening the door, Zye glances back at him. “If you can beat that first part then I’ll let you take it home. But you have to do it before I come back. Sound like a deal?”

Xerxes nods. Now that that’s settled, Zye leaves his apartment and hurries down the two flights of stairs. It takes him no time at all since he skips steps then slips out the side exit that leads to the parking lot. He’s not supposed to but it’s better than going by Mr. J, the landlord, as he’s usually up front at this hour. He can’t afford to get pulled into a lengthy conversation about being careful.

A quick check to make sure his motorcycle is charged up and he’s off.

Being roughly afternoon the traffic is thick and unwanted. Zye knows just what roads to take and which alleys to slip through to avoid this. It has him at work far faster than he would have been normally with that much congestion. Of course, it helps that he parks right by the front door, not bothering with one of the designated spots.

Zye rests the helmet under one arm as he goes inside. There’s plenty of people rushing about — most like himself. No one wants to hire a Chroma. It doesn’t matter that they can’t hurt anyone or pass on their disease by being near others. People keep their distance anyway.

Most except for this bustling little delivery job. Based in a large warehouse, Zye checks in almost every day to make as much as he can. It doesn’t pay that much but it’s better than being harassed at a normal nine-to-five. No one gives him those looks here either and that’s enough to make up for the sometimes spotty pay.

Although some days he does regret leaving his old job. He misses everything about it and he’ll wonder why he stopped. Only to remember that the pay is why. It’s so much easier to make quick cash here. That and no one here will fuss at him for working too much.

He makes his way to the rear office that’s large enough to fit two in one. Stopping before it, Zye raps his knuckles on the slightly ajar door.

“Come in.”

Zye nudges the door open the rest of the way and strides over to the desk where his boss sits. He’s not intimidated in the slightest by the single visible yellow eye that glances up at him. Wavy dark hair is swept over to the side of a sharply angled face, hiding away the right eye. That gaze always seems to be narrowed as well, to which Zye has slowly gotten used to over the years.

 Even so, there’s something about the man that always has Zye on the edge of his metaphorical seat. Something that begs him to turn the other way and find a different job even if it means dealing with the hate.

Nonetheless, Zye takes one of the two seats in front of the large curved desk. He plops the helmet onto his lap and straightens out the wrinkles in his black and gray striped shirt. Zye grins over at him. “You’re lucky I didn’t have to make any stops. I never would have gotten here.”

Another worker peeks their head into the office. “Hey, Soren, the package is ready.”

He waves him away while he leans his elbows on the desk. “I trust you know where Bermuda Circle is.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“The package is at the front, number 247. Do me a favor and take a pair of sunglasses with you. I don’t need another incident.”

Zye huffs as he stands up. “That guy hit me first, he got what he deserved.” Walking back around the chair, Zye stumbles. It’s subtle and he catches himself well. Something he can chalk up to stumbling his toe against the ground.

Soren catches it regardless. “If you can’t handle the job say so. I don’t need someone working half-ass or off their meds again.”

“I’m fine,” is the sharp retort. One that’s equaled with not looking back. He doesn’t want to admit that he hurts. Some days more than others. Most days is because he misses taking his morning dose. But that doesn’t mean he’s incapable of working. “Do I need to come back after?”

“No. The client has already paid in advance.”

Zye leaves it at that. He’s about to hurry out of the office when Soren calls out to him.

“Ah, and Zye?”

He stops in his tracks, giving his boss a chance to finish.

“Daichi has been asking about you. Answer his calls so he doesn’t show up here if you don’t mind. I don’t need another headache.”

“Sure, whatever.” He says with a wave of his hand.

Rushing back to the front of the warehouse, Zye pays no attention to anyone that glances his way. He doesn’t have time for chit-chat. Not when he wants to get back home. If he’d known where he was being sent he probably wouldn’t have agreed to come in at all.

Zye is swift in grabbing the package and getting back on his bike. The last thing he wants is to stick around the warehouse. The less time he spends there the better. He doesn’t exactly care for lying which is why he eagerly avoids any questions about his work. He’d hate to have to admit he dislikes it.

The bone-chilling feeling that seeps into him is enough to make him want to run for the hills. But that’s all the more motivation to get in and out — doing as many deliveries as he possibly can because of it. Perhaps it helps that he doesn’t know what any of the packages are nor does he want to.

Trekking back up into the city, the real heart of it, is harder than he anticipates. The amount of people out on a weekend is ungodly. One small blip of hope is that the air has a slight chill to it to combat the glare of the sun. A benefit to being in a city off the ocean. The thrum of the engine is a welcomed feeling, giving him all the comfort he needs as he travels deep into an upper-class neighborhood.

He’s been this way plenty of times but his skin is still prickling from being here. Not that it stops him from going to one of the less impressive homes. The lengthy curved driveway is devoid of cars. Zye only pulls up at the curb, the more distance the better.  

Helmet hung on one of the handles and package in his hands, Zye makes his way to the front door. Of course, not before grabbing out his sunglasses and flicking them onto his face. It’s a strange feeling of anxiety. He doesn’t quite understand why it’s creeping up on him in the first place other than just not wanting to be back here.

It encourages him to hurry up and get it over with. Pushing away any gut feelings is easy. Not to say he ignores them either. He keeps it in the back of his mind. After all, he’ll more than readily flee if something isn’t right.

These nerves of his prove nothing when he finally makes it to the door and rings the doorbell. A middle-aged man answers it with nothing but a smile. “Thank god you’re here.”

Looking down at the box, he reads the label carefully. Zye raises a brow. “Jack?”

The man blanks for a second, “What?”

“That’s who ordered this. Only they can accept it.”

Looking uneasy, the man doesn’t seem to know what to do. Lucky for him there’s a younger man that appears in the doorway. His hand pats the older guy’s arm, fingers lingering on the wrinkled sleeve of his white button-up. There’s a smirk on his lips as he shoos the man away. “Go on back to the room. I’ll be right there.”

“I didn’t think it meant you.”

The man gives a hum and reaches out for the package. Handing it over, Zye glances him over. Bright orange eyes with a green hue to them and short scruffy blond hair — he’s too familiar. It doesn’t help that Jack keeps the smirk on his countenance. “And you’re who I asked for.”

Taking the small box, Jack nods his head back toward where the other man vanished to. “A shame you don’t still work with us, the rates are a lot higher now and we could use another bouncer.”

Zye immediately takes a step back. “Thanks for using our service. If you need anything else you know what to do.”

“Hey, wait!” He pads out after Zye, bare feet slapping softly against the concrete. In the process, he tosses the box to the ground. “At least let me give you my card, I had to change my number recently. If you ever need back in Boss would be happy to have you.”

Eyes flick over to ‘Jack’ and Zye knows the blond won’t bug him for long. Not while there’s a client inside that needs to be taken care of. As can be seen by jeans that are unbuttoned, yet still zipped up, and a wrinkled t-shirt.

“I don’t do that anymore. Last I checked I don’t know a Jack.”

‘Jack’ raises a brow. “Yeah, yeah I changed it again. Don’t act like you don’t know me. That’s just mean. Besides, the customer ain’t here so you can call me Shae like always. Anyway…” He holds out his hand after fishing in his pocket, producing a yellow card that fits right on the palm. “It’s a lot safer than— Here just take this. Even if you don’t, call me sometime, okay? It’s been a while.”

Why he even lets the blond get this close he’ll never understand — nostalgia maybe? An old friend? Whatever the reason it makes it perfectly clear that he can’t stay here. He has a job and as long as he normally wears his sunglasses he should be fine. But Jack’s right, it’s not safer. It just pays better.

This is why he reaches out and takes the card, slipping it into his back pocket. “No promises. Now go get back to him before he doesn’t tip you.”

“He’s fine.” Shae gives a wave of his hand. “I want to know how you’re doing. How’s your mom?”

“I’ll call you later.”

Shae laughs, “No you won’t. Come on, man.”

Despite having a client, Shae follows after Zye all the way down to the curb. Zye tries his best to simply ignore him. He grabs his helmet, puts the glasses in the inside pocket of his sleeveless jacket, and gets on the motorcycle.

“Fine, fine, fine. I’ll make you a deal. Meet me for lunch sometime and I won’t bother you at work again.”

The offer is far too tempting. The last thing he needs is more distractions. Especially ones that bring him to areas like this. The memories are too much to begin with. At the same time, he does miss Shae more than he cares to admit.

“Deal.”

Shae smiles wide and slaps Zye’s shoulder. “Deal! And no flaking out on me, ya got it? Or I’ll really hunt you down next time.”

“You’d make a great stalker.”

“Heh, thanks.”

Zye rolls his eyes and starts the engine. He has more important things to get back to and one of them is a teenager anxiously waiting to play a game. As he begins to pull away and head home, Shae waits until he’s out of sight to head back to his client.