Talk the Walk - Chapter 3
Title: Talk the Walk - pt3
Chapter: THE COLOR OF YOUR
Pairing: Axel/Roxas
Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts...
o.O.o
CHAPTER 3: The Color of Your…
o.O.o
Let me tell you something about Lea.
First off, yes…that is a girl's name.
Second, he's not actually a girl.
And third, I have no way of actually confirming this, but I'm going to assume that Lea is a complete and utter stud.
Furthermore, Lea has been calling me during all of my shifts at exactly 8 o'clock. Sometimes later, but never earlier. Because of this I've kinda taken to calling him Caller Number Eight. Sometimes I just shorten it to Eight.
Why?
Because Lea is such a girl's name that it's freakishly weird to call him that!
"Destiny?"
I mean, if you could just hear his voice…it's like…listening to fire crackle on fresh wood. You just get this nice warm feeling, I don't really know what else to compare it to….Kinda like how the sound of burning wood in a fireplace will lull you to sleep and then you're all warm and cozy. And once you're at the brink of oblivion, the vapors trapped inside timber bursts and you remember that he's still talking to you.
"Yo, Destiny…you still there?"
I don't know what I just did right there. I think that was poetic shit.
Let's try this again. Lea has a really manly voice.
"DESTINY. GODDAMMIT. I'M SORRY I CALLED LATE, JUST TALK TO ME ALREADY!"
Aforementioned voice is also currently being ignored by me right now. Because if he thinks he can just call me anytime he wants to, well then he is not getting a date with this Destiny.
Regardless, I was talking about how he sounds. His voice is like…the kind you have when you're really full of yourself and you want everyone to know that, and you're well aware that everyone knows that you know that….well you know. Like his cockiness just oozes out into everything he says. And he's got this really strange pitch in his voice. I've never heard it before.
"Hey, if you don't respond - I'm going to start crying, alright?"
This is also the part where I admit that I have never heard Lea's crying before. This might be interesting.
"…Destiny?"
I will also admit that I have never heard Lea's real voice before either.
"Shit, babe…"
Nor has he ever heard mine.
At the sex hotline company I work at, to protect the identities of our employees and customers, we have a voice changer logged in every computer. It's not perfect. In fact, it makes everyone sound a little robotic and it's kinda weird.
"Christ, I can't believe you're going to make me cry…"
But it's probably for the best. Imagine how awkward it would be if you were just minding your own business and then suddenly heard one of us? Like you're at the grocery store trying to buy some cereal and the cashier guy rings you up and says "Is that all?" and you realize he's saying it the exact same way as your sex-talker. And then as he helps you carry your groceries to your car and you say something dumb like "You can put it in the back," and he realizes that you're his regular.
There are only two outcomes to this story.
Either the both of you feel super awkward and you never shop at that store again and he'll never offer to help carry things.
Or both of you will exchange numbers, call each other up for real this time, and then reenact everything that's been said on the phone in person like having mind-blowing sex or-
"At least say something, baby…are you that mad at me?"
This is also the part where I admit that I really don't like it when he calls me baby.
Because once he's drops that word I'm pretty much a puddle of goo.
It's a really dumb mental mind trap that I've caught myself in - but I just don't know what to do when I picture someone like him calling me that…I mean he's a sex god. And he's calling me hisbaby. Like I'm someone really important to someone as…..not that it'll ever happen in real life or anything.
"Yes, I am!" I reply huffily.
Sigh, so much for the silent treatment. I didn't even last two minutes…although I usually don't last very long with Eight anyway. And you can take that any way you want.
"Sorry, babe…"
"Stop calling me that!"
"I thought you liked it when I called you that?"
"I hate that."
And then he laughs, and even with the voice changer it still sounds magnificent. It's like this earthly sound that rumbles deep within his throat. I can picture someone poking the fire with a pair of bronze tongs, turning the wood over to let the flames spread to new territory.
"That usually means you love it, baby."
I can practically hear him purring…it's a really nice sound. I almost want to forgive him. But Lea really likes to play cat and mouse so that means I need to drag this out for a little longer.
"Well then I bet you really want me to say I hate you, huh?"
Before I met - er…talked - to Lea, I was pretty bad at comebacks. I think I still am, but every conversation with him is like some verbal competition for who can degrade the other the most without actually hurting them. It's how couples banter. This is how we flirt. Not that we're a couple or anything.
So when the line goes silent on his side, I get kinda worried.
Did I say something to offend him? Because in the few months I've serviced him, I don't think I've ever done that. I don't think I've ever said anything to make him seriously mad. (Of course I would never upset a customer, but as you can probably tell, Lea is no ordinary customer…)
I fidget on my stool a bit and adjust the grip on my microphone. I don't really need to hold it since it hangs from the ceiling, but it makes me feel more comfortable, like I'm actually having a phone conversation when I have something in my hand. I stop myself from checking the volume for the fifth time to see if I had accidently muted the other line.
But the light is still on. The conversation is still going. And Lea still hasn't said anything yet.
Right as I'm about to change the topic he says…
"Destiny," in this really sad melodramatic voice, it's almost as if he's sighing, I've never heard him speak like this before, "I'm not sure what I would do with myself if you ended up falling in love with me."
Well that certainty took me by surprise.
"I'm not really that great of a person…I don't deserve you, so just don't ok?"
Let me tell you something about Lea.
He's spontaneous.
One minute he's asking for some erotic kind of scenario, and then the next he suddenly asks for a romantic one while still miraculously being in character. He makes servicing him feel like I'm playing with an excited kid. I find it a feat just to keep up with his fantasies.
He's also reckless.
We go over the time limit at least one a week. But I feel bad hanging up on him without giving him his climax so sometimes I do overtime with him for free. It goes right out of my pay check and he's fully aware of it.
But he's definitely not….this. I don't even know what this is.
"We'll you're definitely great in bed, I can tell you that much."
He laughs, and it's not that impressive sound I'm used to. It's somehow broken. This isn't how a laugh is supposed to be like.
"You've never even been in a real bed with me."
I hear the sad chuckle again and it makes my insides sink. I don't know what going on. He's usually not like this. Actually he's never like this. Honest, this wasn't how I had intended to introduce him into my story at all.
I'm scrambling to think of things to say. Should I comfort him? Should I agree with him? My only job experience is to sleep with guys, not consol them. I have no idea what I'm supposed to do now, so I keep my mouth shut in case he can hear the helpless in my voice.
Instead, all I say is "Eight…"
And somehow it's enough for him to continue talking. I'm so relieved that I miss what he says at first, but when I tune back in, his words catch me by surprise.
"You know. Like, a real bed. Twin size, cotton sheets, plain linen and pillows."
A real bed. He wants…me in a real bed.
I let go of the microphone, and it hangs there in front of me. I look past my desk, past all the sound equipment on top of it, and stare straight into the glass wall separating me from the rest of the recording room. But I don't look further than that.
Because against that glass I can see myself. I can see me in a too baggy t-shirt and cargo pants. Somehow the clothes make me seem even smaller than I really am. - I dully make a note of this for when I dress myself in the morning. - And this is what he wants.
Me.
This pathetic little me who's trying to hide beneath all his clothes.
He's still talking and instead of all the office decoration around me, I'm picturing that it's his room being reflected against that glass.
I'm in his room, in my oversized clothes and lack of confidence, sitting on his bed. His real bed. That's draped with warm-colored linen and matching pillows. Maybe that's where he wants me to be, and maybe that's where…
"None of those king size, four poster, silk canopy and sheets, and more pillows than we can ever be consistent with, hahaha."
And then his story breaks the illusion. Because suddenly the room I see myself in turns into the fabricated love mansion that's been so overdone with all my customers. It's tacky, it's gaudy, it's not real. I can't picture it anymore. So the daydream disappears and I'm left staring at myself - who's staring back at me in my reflected sound booth. I didn't understand him at first, but now suddenly I think I do.
"I mean, I know you can definitely talk the walk…"
I try to say reassuringly. Because I haven't said anything in a while. Because I feel like I need to say something, but that probably wasn't the best thing I could have said.
"Yeah but someday, I wanna do more than that. I wanna..."
Let me tell you something else about Lea, that I'm just discovering for myself right now. He never fails to take my breath away, so effortlessly. In times when I don't know what to say, he just says it.
"…walk with you."
I'm going to interrupt him now.
"Goldenrod."
"What?"
"My bed, it's goldenrod sheets on foam."
There's a moment's pause like he's not sure what we're talking about. But then he says something back to me and suddenly I feel like the mood has been lifted miles higher. He's back.
"How many pillows?"
He says it seriously. But I know he's not. This is his fake serious voice that he uses for corporate business fetishes or something like that. I mean, he might be seriously trying to picture himself in my room. But this whole business, it's not really serious.
"Just one." I reply.
"Seriously?"
Yes, I am being serious. But no, we're not actually…serious. I mean yeah I've honestly only got one pillow but, are we actually exchange details of our room?
"There isn't much space on a twin size for more than one. And it's a really big pillow, too."
"So you like big pillows, huh?"
Like I said, we're not really being serious here.
"And apparently I like big egos, too, since I'm still talking to you."
"It's underrepresentation baby, not overcompensation."
"I'm surprise you even know what those words mean."
He chuckled.
"And your sheets?"
"Naples."
"Is that where they're from?"
"No that's their color. They're from Taiwan or something."
"Huh, what the hell is Naples…"
"It's like a light Maize."
"What?"
"It's a yellow, Lea. Everything on my bed is yellow."
"It must look like starshine."
"You mean sunshine?"
"Whatever."
And then he pushes me back onto my own bed. He grabs a fistful of linen and examines it. 'It really is like sunshine,' he says and drapes it over both of our bodies, covering us in sunlight. He smiles down at me, as he crawls up to my chest on all fours, and I smile back up at him, laying down contently.
"I like your place," he says in a dreamy, off-focused way.
I hug myself, pretending the baggy sleeves of my shirt are those same Naples yellow blankets. I'm trying to picture the warmth of my bed, the warmth of Lea's body. For some reason it's so much easier to pretend this time than it was for any other session before.
"Thanks, can we go to yours afterwards?"I ask, and for some reason I'm genuinely excited about it.
The thrill of letting him into my room, into my privacy, into an intimate part of my life that not many others have known about. And then letting him into my bed, under my covers, in my arms, under my clothes - it's intoxicating like it never was before.
"I'll think about it," he says, but he's chuckling.
He always takes my socks off last. 'What color were the rest of your pajamas?' he asks, and I tell him they were black and white. He asks me if they're checkered, like the majority of my clothing, and I laugh. No, they're plain black shorts, and a white shirt with black sleeves. And soon we're both laughing for no reason.
I'm telling him I have a blue lampshade with a star pattern next to my bed. He's telling me he's reaching out underneath the covers to turn it off. I let him. And then I finish taking off his pants because I realized I've been fairly de-clothed for a while.
He tells me I look beautiful.
I tell him he's never seen me before. And it's protocol that I never tell him what I actually look like on the job. He's got no idea what I look like.
So he tells me my room looks beautiful, instead.
I punch him.
But he just laughs.