APOLLO | CABARET OF WHISPERS | #2

″It began as a mistake.” - Charles Bukowski.

Crimson red dripped from his clothed fingers, falling clumsily on the hard, colourless ground with inaudible thuds.

The light drizzle could not wash it away, seeing as it couldn’t find a way to sneak into the alley, so the contrast would leave many expressionists gasping for air at the unwanted artwork.

The creator of that particular disaster did not even pay attention to the unintended souvenir he was about to leave behind.

He couldn’t, his mind was too preoccupied with mundane dislikes.

Dislikes such as the gloves he was wearing and the need he felt to remove them.

However, even though the gloves itched, he couldn’t take them off. He learned a long time ago that’s it’s best not to leave any fingertips laying around. Or, any kind of DNA, for that matter.

You never knew how serious a cop was about his job.

Even so, however, that didn’t mean that no one could link him to the scene, especially if they caught sight of the state of him.

For God’s sake, even his hair was covered in colour.

But that did not matter, not as long as he had only the music of the night to accompany him. By music of the night, he meant Chopin’s nocturne op.9 No.2, which was currently tearing his eardrums to pieces.

As it should.

In minutes that changed.

That unnerving but calming peace evaded him.

Police sirens burned his ears with their high-pitched song but he didn’t stop. Instead, he kept staring at his handiwork in utter amazement. He couldn’t possibly stop before he was finished, police be damned.

The body laying before him was arranged perfectly, its limbs appearing soft in the artificial lighting. Almost lively.

Perfect.

The auburn hair of the woman flew with the wind, a beautiful contradiction to her immobile form. Her head was held high, staring directly at the sky even with her eyes glued shut while her lips parted in agony. Nobody would recognise who she was like that, nobody would know.

Especially those who knew her.

If they learned the truth, it would all be over in seconds.

Nobody would link her to him, except, maybe, a couple of officers who were familiar with his work.

But they would never say a thing.

The sirens hit his eardrums with a vigour known for its vicious nature.

A vigour not even Chopin and his talent could minimise.

Fuck, they’re getting closer.

He shot one last look at his masterpiece just before he detected the almost drowned out voices of the cops, just before their flashlights blinded him.

Oh, fuck, not again.

After that, there was a too familiar voice yelling at him not to move and so, he did what was expected of him.

He ran.

He ran until his lungs bled and his laughter was nothing more than a feathery echo.

But the cigarettes had turned his lungs so unbelievably grey that, eventually, he stopped to catch his breath and they caught him.

“Apollo Vidal.” The chief said, acknowledging the blond whose clothes -and face, for that matter- were stained with every colour and every shade that had ever dared to grace the human eye. “Had a little fun tonight, did you?”

Apollo scratched his head awkwardly before cocking a heavy brow at the chief, whose appearance seemed remarkably unkempt, even by his standards. His salt and pepper hair was greasy, his muddy brown eyes were narrowed and heavy and his tie was nowhere to be seen. In fact, most parts of his uniform were missing. “I wouldn’t exactly call being here fun but I can’t complain.”

The chief’s attention shifted towards the floor beneath Apollo’s feet. Drops of red stained his office but that was nothing out of the ordinary. Fifteen years worth of paint rested on his floors, even if the evidence no longer existed.

If he had to count the number of times he had one of his newest officers scrub the floor clean, well then. . .

“You know Vidal, I’m waiting for the day I retire and don’t have to deal with you and the rest of your family, anymore. ”

That was an understatement.

Every single one of them had taken a seat on his couch. It was almost like they all had a cloud of trouble over their stubborn heads.

First time Apollo showed up, he was nothing but a halo worth of hair and a too big, for his face, smile.

When the blondie had found himself covered in colour and shackled, his mom showed up at the police station. Her exasperated concern and frustration were enough to raise Hell and frighten every grown man within a ten mile radius.

He had been fifteen at the time, nothing but a little wannabe punk that sneaked out at night just to earn some street cred. So that he could be known for being something other than Eros and Alexander Vidal’s kid brother.

As if making a name for himself around these parts of the city meant anything.

Apollo had given her his biggest grin, his hands dangling inside the metal handcuffs, and showed her the station’s floor saying, “Look mom, I made a Pollock.”

Andromeda had rolled her eyes in response, resisting the chuckle that ached to find its way to the surface. “You sure did and you almost gave me a heart attack, I hope you’re happy.” Then, she had thrown her eyes at the chief, pleading with him silently to let her son go for old time’s sake.

When he shook his head, she started pacing all over the relatively small room, muttering furiously in Greek while both the officer and her son stared at her.

And judging from the way she was speaking and the few words Apollo had managed to learn and recognise, she wasn’t being mighty polite.

Well, Greek moms do have a flair for the dramatics, that much is true. So, it shouldn’t have come as a shock.

That’s it, Apollo had thought with a laugh that earned him a chilling glare and more muttering, I broke mom.

In fact, all kinds of interesting thoughts kept him entertained while Andromeda was losing what little sanity she had left.

Things that ranged from:

I returned her to her factory settings.

Dad’s going to murder me.

To things like:

Where’s the switch that makes her speak English?

More importantly, where’s the switch that turns her off?

It appeared that the cop shared the same thoughts because the moment he was able to stop her from destroying the floors, he told her that she could take Apollo and walk out. On the promise that he’d be a law-abiding citizen from then on, of course.

The blond would never forget the wink she had shot at him once they left the station.

“When is the happy event taking place? I’m getting a tad bored of looking at your face.” His humour wasn’t widely appreciated.

Especially not by the man with the badge.

There was not a single trace of amusement on his aged face when he replied. “Soon enough. Can you promise to leave me be in the meantime?”

Looking away, the blond shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like I do it on purpose but I’ll try.” He grimaced as he spoke, honestly thinking his answer and keeping his tone serene.

“I’ll take what I can get, then.” The older man rolled his eyes before pressing his pointer fingers on his temples and rubbing them mercilessly. “Did you leave your car near where my boys caught you?”

“No, sir.”

“Do I have to call your mom to collect you again, Vidal?”

“Call, Ax.” He muttered begrudgingly, not understanding why he couldn’t leave without a guardian coming to take his ass home. He wasn’t fifteen, anymore, he was a grown man even though there were times he didn’t act like it. “I don’t want to worry mom, again.” He admitted, recalling her last week’s hysterics with a grimace on his otherwise perfectly sculpted face.

I’m getting too old for this shit.

“You know this can’t keep on happening, right? I can’t keep bending the rules forever and you can’t keep acting like a little punk. Draw on a fucking canvas, from now on, will you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Raising his handcuffed hands, he made a dismissing movement. “Stop with the lecture and call my dear brother. I’m tired of you.”

The moment Alexander Vidal walked through the front door two things were instantly apparent:

One, he had forgotten to wear a shirt.

Two, he had forgotten to leave his kid at home.

Apollo yawned and stretched his arms as far as the handcuffs allowed as his brother made his way toward him. Even in that state, the tattoo artist couldn’t help commenting, “I hope you know you’re carrying a sleeping baby.”

Ax nodded, turning his gaze to his daughter, who had placed her head over his heart, safe and content listening to it beat rhythmically as she slept.

“Hmm.” He hummed, keeping his voice uncharacteristically soft and took a step forward. “She sleeps better when I take her for a drive and it’s not like I could leave her all alone in the car while I bailed your ass.” The look he gave Apollo was full of incredulity.

In fact, the blond could almost hear the words ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ echo in his ears.

“And the lack of clothing?”

“Skin to skin contact is better. There are no barriers between us.” Spoken like a true hipster, this time he kept the comment to himself.

“And she likes to hear my heartbeat, don’t you, Lyla?” With one of his hands, he ruffled the baby’s short black tresses fondly.

“It’s still hard to believe that you are a father.” The Chief remarked as he returned to his office, taking in the scene unfolding before his very, very tired eyes. “Of all the people in this world.”

Focusing his dark blue eyes at the man who interrupted him, Alexander scowled. “Should I take that as an insult, Chief?”

“Take it however you want, I’m simply stating a fact.”

“I see your sense of humour hasn’t improved.” Half a shrug was his reply and not even an apologetic one. “Also, can you get the handcuffs off of him, already? I have to be home soon.”

“Is the wife treating you well, Vidal? You can tell me if she gets a little extra mean when you’re a bit late.” The chief’s every word oozed with sympathy. He went as far as to pat Ax’s bare shoulder comfortingly but was wise enough to move away once the black-haired man’s eyes shone with a murderous glint, a glint that died once he felt Lyla shift under his arm. “I won’t judge.”

“Get the cuffs off of him.” Ax murmured curtly, choosing to ignore the teasing comment thrown at him. Nevertheless, the remark wasn’t far from the truth. The wife was being mean, by acting like he was Patrick Swayze in Ghost.

“Unless he’s in any real trouble which I doubt because you wouldn’t be making jokes if he was.” He certainly hadn’t made any jokes when Ax was arrested.

Apollo must have deciphered the look on his brother’s face because he immediately seized laughing and extended his wrists, putting an end to that conversation.

“What’s going on?” The blond asked the second the station’s door shut behind them.

The mechanic was a few steps ahead of him. However, he was still close enough for Apollo to speak without having to shout and consequently wake up Lyla.

Ax couldn’t find it in him to deny his brother’s assumption that something was wrong so, he just went for the truth. “Celia’s not talking to me for the time being.”

″For the time being?”

“She hasn’t said a word to me in five days. In fact, this little charade has to be the longest conversation I’ve had these past few days.” It took only about a minute to reach the car and in that minute Ax did nothing but stall his reply.

Rolling his eyes, the blond took out a packet of Malboro lights from his back pocket. “What did you do this time?” Pulling one out, he placed it between his lips and put the rest of the packet back.

As he searhed for his lucky white lighter, he moved closer to Alexander.

His older brother wore a guilty expression on his face but the darkness concealed it so, even though, he turned around to unlock the car, Apollo couldn’t see it. ″I may or may not have called her mother without telling her first.”

Apollo removed the cigarette from his mouth and stood there gaping like an idiot. “Her mother?” Then, he furrowed his brows. “I thought she didn’t get along with her parents.”

Ax opened the back door of the car and gently pulled Lyla away from the warmth of his muscular body and placed her on the baby seat. His movements were incredibly gentle.

She was a porcelain doll and he was afraid to break her.

Fatherhood suited him.

“She doesn’t.”

“What the fuck where you thinking?”

Shrugging, he pulled his body out of the back seat. Lyla was sitting comfortably in her seat and the security was on but her father couldn’t resist tugging it twice just to make sure. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Apollo?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell that what you have there is not a fucking cigarette. Tell me I’m hallucinating.”

Man, withdrawal must be pretty hard on him, his inner voice snickered.

“I really don’t want to lie to you, right now.”

It took the fuming blue eyed man only two strides to reach the object of his rage.

Apollo was unaware of what was about to come and so, when Ax flicked the cigarette from his lips, his reflexes did not react quick enough and the poor, overpriced cancer stick fell on the dirty gravel without a sound. “What the fuck?”

To be fair, Apollo did push Ax away but he was five seconds too late.

“You are not going to fucking smoke in my damn car, what’s the matter with you?”

“I’m not going to smoke in your car, asshole. I’m walking home.”

Scowling at his brother, he took a new cigarette out of the packet and lit it before he heard another objection. “Then why in the every loving Hell did you make me drive all this way for nothing?”

He was being overly dramatic.

“You know I need a guardian’s permission in order to go home.”

After that, he made a big spectacle of inhaling a lung full worth of cancer and releasing the smoke leisurely back to the atmosphere, polluting it even more than it deserved.

The older brother’s fury seemed to have been pacified as he got behind the wheel of his Jeep. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you off?”

Apollo eyed his newly lit cigarette and nodded. “Oh, I’m sure.”

He needed time to think, to process the fucked up situation he had found himself in.

He loved someone that could never and would never willingly belong to him, someone unreachable, someone that loved his brother instead of him.

Ax couldn’t even imagine the internal battle Apollo was facing and that’s why he started lecturing him, treating him like he was a child. “You can’t keep on living like this, Apollo, you’re not fifteen, anymore.” Funnily enough, he’d said the exsct same thing to himself.

Maybe great minds do think alike, after all.

“I’ll try to to stay out of trouble, dad.” His youngest sibling replied, playing the part of the sarcastic little shit. He went as far as sticking out his tongue at him and taking another drag out of pure spite.

Honestly, Ax got exactly what he bargained for.

Shaking his head in disappointment, Ax fired the engine and rolled up the window, cutting off all communication.

He was too exhausted to reply.

Too exhausted to do anything, quite frankly.

Without another word, he drove off, leaving Apollo all alone in front of the relatively dark street.

The sight that greeted Ax, when he locked the door of his formerly asylum-white house behind him, was both endearing and frustrating.

Celia was curled up on the couch, softly stroking Hera’s head while Criminal Minds played in the background. Alexander, the cat, was nowhere to be seen but the mechanic was certain that his disappearance was only a product of the lack of light in the house. That creature would never leave Celia’s side if it could help it.

They were similar in that way.

The baby stirred in his arms but he managed to coax her into returning to her original position without waking her up.

“It’s late.” He observed, taking a few steps towards his illustrious wife. “What are you doing out of bed?” Lyla rubbed her cheek against his chest, just as the words left his mouth.

And while for Lyla he was the centre, Celia didn’t even turn her head to acknowledge him.

“Still not speaking to me?” The only reply he received was a huff.

Believe it or not, that was the most he’d gotten out of her in five whole days.

Honestly, he was too damn tired to fight with her and couldn’t find it in him to apologise. In fact, he did not believe he had anything to apologise for, so really there was no point in lying to her. “Suit yourself. I’m going to bed.”

When her ears caught his last statement, she rotated her head towards his shadowy figure, staring at him for a long moment before gently pushing the animals away and getting up.

Celia marched towards him, her bare feet hitting the floor with enough grace to remain relatively silent. Once she reached his immobile form, one of her hands shot out and plucked the still sleeping baby from his bare, sinewy arms. Her breath might have caught when she made contact with his bare skin but then again, it could have been his breath that turned erratic.

Her expression softened when her gaze fell on their sleeping daughter, albeit only for a moment. When she returned her attention to Ax, a ferocious scowl was back in place.

Shocker, the mechanic thought and had to supress a smile from surfacing.

The whole time, he hadn’t taken his eyes off of her.

Beautiful as always, little dove, he’d say if she’d do anything other than scoff and look away.

Her curvy frame was covered by one of his t-shirts and he’d bet his left hand that there was nothing underneath it, just miles and miles of creamy, marked skin.

His mouth watered at the thought.

However, just as his thoughts took a more indecent turn, Tony Montana glared at him from the front of the shirt and for some reason, his glare felt more threatening than Celia’s.

He refused to share that piece of knowledge with her, knowing all too well that she wasn’t going to appreciate it.

Moving past him, she run up the stairs.

Alexander stood perfectly still, lost in his confusion and the uncertainty of what was to come. He knew that as he waited there like an idiot she was most likely putting their daughter to her crib. He knew that, he just didn’t know what would come afterwards. Would she come back down and invite him to bed? Would she just go to sleep without a word, like she had done so many nights that past week?

When the omen he had been waiting for finally arrived, he knew it wasn’t a good one.

Once Celia got back down, she had a pillow under her arm and a soft, beige blanket clutched tightly in her hands.

She surpassed his form without bothering to acknowledge him, yet again.

“You can’t be serious.” He chuckled at her actions. “You’re not kicking me out of my own damn bed, Celia.” In return, she only raised an eyebrow, keeping up with the silent treatment.

“No.” He refused once more, raising his voice ever-so-slightly.

When his refusal reached her ears, Celia shrugged with a suspicious air of nonchalance and threw the pillow on the couch before acting like Ax was not even in the same room as her and lying down.

“You’re being a child.” He commented and moved straight at her laying figure.

“At least, say something. Scream at me if you want but don’t keep playing this motherfucking game because I’m not going to apologise for speaking to your mother. I’m, also, not going to apologise for telling her she has a granddaughter and I’m not going to fucking apologise because you are too much of a pussy to deal with your parents.” While he spoke, he tore the pillows from the couch, turning it into a poor excuse for a bed.

“What,” She hissed, turning to her side in order to face him. “Did you just say to me? What did you call me?”

Huh, the insult, actually, worked. Why didn’t I think of it four days ago?

“Oh my God, she can speak. How marvelous.” Ax commented dryly, giving his wife his signature smirk, the one that made his cheekbone diamond sharp, the one that screamed arrogance.

Yeah, that one.

“Fuck off, Vidal.” She all but snarled, indirectly telling him that his attempt to charm his way out of the rabbit hole he had fallen into wasn’t going to work.

It rarely did these days and so, he did the next best thing.

Eyeing the space he had just created, Ax climbed on the couch behind Celia, who didn’t move an inch. Didn’t acknowledge his presence period.

“That witch stood by him while he reminded me time and again what a undeserving disappointment I am. She didn’t say a word when he threw me out. Not a single word. She didn’t care.” The black-haired woman bit out every syllable, not caring that the words they formed filled her mouth with acid. “And if you take her side it means that you don’t care, either.”

His scoff seemed unbelievably echophantic as it slashed through the thin veil of air that surrounded their forms. “I’ll make you choke on those words, little dove. Trust me on this.” His words were harsh but his grip on her arms was still gentle. He knew what she needed and he gave it. “You have to know that nobody cares more than I do. You think I’d ever try to convince you to do something that would actually harm you? Come on, you know me better than that.”

“Do I?” Celia sneered. “Because right now I feel like I don’t know you at all.”

He knew she was angry and just throwing insults but that sentence still fucking gutted him.

Those fucking words she had the audacity to utter filled him with so much rage that he couldn’t even think of a proper response. “You mother loves you, that much I know.” He murmured instead of giving in to his anger. “You’d be a fool not to give her a chance.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Was there a sliver of hope clinging to her, otherwise, bitter words? Not even she knew. “And since you’re getting all friendly with each other, next time you talk to her, tell her that she’s too little too late to the party. The music stopped and the lights are all out.”

He didn’t want to play the card he had hidden up his sleeve but what else could he do? He wanted to give her back a part of her soul that had been torn away from her six long years ago. There was nothing else he could do and maybe, just maybe if he kept telling that to himself he just might end up believing it. “She also mentioned your brother misses you and I might have heard a little squeal when I told her about the baby.”

He was a damn bastard for doing that and perhaps, Apollo had been right when he told him that he shouldn’t have gotten in the middle of that particular disaster but it was too late to back down now.

What would Mick have done? Ax inquired the voice in his head, He would have made her face her fears and he wouldn’t have felt the slightest ounce of guilt for it, he thought, trying to justify his momentary fuck up. At least, I’m giving her a choice, I’m being reasonable.

Keep telling that to yourself, Vidal, another thought interjected the second after the first one sailed far, far away from him.

“Enzo was there? He heard about Lyla?” The hope in her voice tore him apart. She sounded so innocent that for a second there it felt like he was the one causing her pain. The one who offered only a sliver of hope in return, just like any good kidnapper with an aspiration for Stockholm Syndrome did.

“He did.”

Her lower lip wobbled as she tried her hardest to refrain from sobbing. “He’s going to hate me. I left him all alone when he needed me.”

“Have you not been listening to a word I’ve said, Celia? The kid misses you.” Celia did not respond to her husband’s words. Instead, she chewed on her bottom lip, her teeth nearly piercing the soft, rose coloured skin. Nevertheless, it didn’t matter, he couldn’t see her in the dark, especially since she wasn’t facing him.

Alexander sighed, his breath heavy. “Will you, at least, think about it?” There was something in his mostly controlled tone that hinted at a lurking tiredness. Maybe that’s why when he turned to his side and drew her to his chest, she didn’t offer any resistance.

Or, maybe, that’s just the excuse.

It hardly matters, however, because she sank into his body with the same overwhelming fatigue, forgetting that they’d have to move sooner rather later.

A heavy sigh and a few incoherent mumbled curses later, Celia chose compromise over her pride. “I’ll think about it.”