Chapter Text
Evil Xisuma believes whole-heartedly that the best part of the work day is the silence his brother allows in the car ride to and from The Hermit Craft. No talking and no radio. It’s just Ex, his brooding thoughts, and the road noise for the half hour it takes them to get into the city. Xisuma’s awful little sedan barely makes any noise to add to the equation. Xisuma is not as courteous as his vehicle, if the sigh he heaves in the sort of manner that generally means he’s working himself up to try and talk to Ex means anything. Ex preemptively glares out the window, facing away from his older brother.
Xisuma, presumably finding his peace, finally speaks. “Grian won’t be in today.”
Grian is the shitty part-timer and college student whose singular goal is to cause chaos and ruin Ex’s day. The significance of his absence is not immediately obvious to Ex. He literally does not care. In fact, he almost feels overjoyed upon hearing the news. Alas, his devotion to his pre-shift period of silence overpowers any joyful curiosity over Grian calling out. Ex does not respond.
“It’s shipment day. Grian can’t come in,” Xisuma speaks slowly, carefully enunciating each word.
Oh, there it is. Ex does not do shipments. Now, The Hermit Craft is a yarn and craft store. It was established ten years ago by Xisuma’s life-long friend, Keralis. It operates with minimal staff. Evil Xisuma works the cash register alongside xB and occasionally Grian, who always does the shipments. Keralis and Xisuma handle the business side of things, doing horrific amounts of paperwork and ordering in stock and special orders. Ex neither truly knows or cares what they do, just as long as he gets paid. An outsider might incorrectly assume that shipments for a yarn store are no biggie. How much does a crate of yarn really weigh anyway? Ex does not want to find out.
He asks, “Can xB come in?” Which is a fine and reasonable question, if anyone cares about Ex’s opinion. People normally do not.
This is immediately proven by Xisuma’s short response. “No.” He takes a calming breath. “You can do it.”
This might be true, if Ex thought he physically could. It’s not laziness that keeps him in bed for days at a time. He’s sick, for lack of a better word. Years ago, in the time he wasn’t working at The Hermit Craft he started getting weaker and more tired than he thought possible. Ex doesn’t know why and generally chooses to ignore it. Not that Xisuma would know any of that; Ex has not and will not tell Xisuma anything.
Evil Xisuma has watched Grian unload shipments on quiet days. He understands the process. He knows it requires repetitive motions including bending and reaching and lifting, which are all outside of his area of expertise. Ex begins to weigh his options. He could tell Xisuma he can’t; he could explain that if he does this today, he won’t be able to come in tomorrow. He could confess to nearly a decade of secret pain and suffer the inevitable ensuing argument and doctor’s office visits. He could also call up Helsknight and have them pretend to have an emergency Ex needs to help them with tomorrow. Helsknight would do it, and let him crash at their place about it too. The latter is clearly the better option.
Xisuma must be feeling gracious because he lets Ex stare moodily out the window for the rest of the ride in silence. They pull into the employee parking back behind the renovated barn that houses The Hermit Craft. As much as Ex enjoys complaining about his job, as is his Watchers given right, Keralis’s store is the most idyllic version of a craft shop that Ex can imagine. He might even acquiesce to it being a pillar of the community. It’s an accessible building, something he remembers Keralis insisting upon with the contractors who helped renovate the place. There is one elevated section that houses the spinning supplies, and rather than a couple steps up to it, Keralis opted for a long ramp. The product rocks are spaced a minimum of forty-two inches apart for ease of access and the front doors are equipped with a push button on the rare days they keep them closed. Aside from the design of the store, Keralis puts a lot of emphasis on events. Ex only attends the one he works, the Wednesday night knitter’s guild, but he is aware of crochet and spinner’s groups. They also host workshops and classes, that Ex is barred from teaching given his famous lack of patience, that have scholarships. If you can’t pay, you don’t. They host a block party art market every couple weekends during the summer months. Privately, Ex might admit to being happy to support this place. He’d never tell Keralis this, of course. It would go to his head.
This particular Tuesday boasts no major events and thus a distinct lack of customers. Not that Ex really minds, he’d like to save his energy today. He only ends up checking out one sweet older woman who buys one of the beginners knitting kits xB makes and promotes on their store socials. He fills out a special order form for another person requesting an Ashford Niddy Noddy in the medium size, 1.5 meters. To xir credit xe only giggle a little bit when asking for a niddy noddy. He’ll give it xem, it’s a funny name for a tool. Finally, a couple hours after open, Pearl arrives with their shipment. She’s been handling their deliveries the entire time Ex has worked there, and presumably during the time he didn’t too.
“Xisuma!” Ex shouts from his spot behind the counter.
Xisuma pokes his head out of the side office he does his stupid paperwork in. “You can sign for it, you know?”
“Aren’t you the boss?” Ex responds snidely.
Pearl interjects, “C’mon Ex, I haven’t collected a signature from you yet!”
Ex concedes with no small amount of annoyance or fear for what Pearl does with her collected signatures. What an odd way to phrase that. She probably commits identity fraud with them. Might even get the fingerprints off the pen he signs with. Or maybe, Ex is just paranoid.
Xisuma watches Pearl unload the boxes off the pallet and slip out the door with it from the entrance to his office. Only once she’s driving away in her truck, he calls out to Ex. “That should be completely unloaded by the time we leave today.”
Ex attempts to find it in himself not to be rude. He fails. “I’ll get done what I get done.”
“Evil Xisuma.” Oh, full names make for a fun start. Who does Xisuma think he is, Ex’s dad? “Keralis pays you for this.”
“He pays Grian for this, actually,” he snaps.
“Just do it, please.” Then Xisuma walks away from the door to his office and back into his chair at his desk, just out of Ex’s view. He takes that for the end of their conversation.
He meanders over towards the imposing pile of boxes set right in the middle of the shop, boxcutter and invoice in hand. It’s really not that bad a job at first. He just has to open each box, make sure they have enough of each yarn, and mark it off the invoice. He’s even able to sit down while doing it a couple times. It’s once he has to start moving the yarns to their places on the shelves that a problem arises. There is a tiny needling pain in the small of his back. He fixates on the feeling of it. Glancing between the stack of open yarn boxes and their corresponding empty shelves all throughout the room. Ex needs a game plan. They don’t have any shelves that require a ladder to reach, Keralis’s easy access thing that he prioritizes, so Ex figures he’ll start at the top shelves and go down. It’ll give his back a break, but his shoulders will suffer for it. He’ll have to get on the ground for the bottom shelves. He won’t want to be crouching by then. His knees ache at the mere thought.
It’s the damn Knitting for Olive Merino and Soft Silk Mohair cabinet that rudely reminds him of his body’s limitations. It’s easily one of their more popular products. People travel from other hub cities to check out the full color selection offered in person. Thank Watchers for online shopping, but sometimes the colorways just don’t come across online the way they do in person. Ex has certainly attempted to import some of the recommended yarns for a LDShadowLady design. Her and her perfect MKALs and the things Ex will do to participate in them should be studied.
The cabinet that houses these yarns though, is the first one that Ex decides to get on the ground to stock. It only makes sense. There’s so many of them, he should just get it over with. The merino is closest to the ground. Who really needs ten different shades of white, this is ridiculous. He sits with one leg bent and the other straight out and to the side of the shelf as he shoves little fifty gram skeins into their respective slots. He finishes and moves to stand.
He was being tactical with his position; sitting on his legs in any manner makes them fall asleep in one of the most painful sensations he experiences regularly. So, he has a proverbial leg up in being able to stand. He can’t use the shelf to stabilize himself, though, because it’s not bolted to the wall. He turns to the side and puts both palms against the ground. He shifts, gets one knee underneath himself, and pain laces from his shoulder to the knee pressed into the unforgiving hardwood floors. Ex flings himself back into a sitting position, landing hard on his tailbone, and gasps against the sensation. He is, he realizes quickly, stuck.
It’s not nearly the first time he’s been stuck on the ground at work. Years ago, just after The Hermit Craft first opened, he moved away to a different hub city. There was something about the excitement Keralis displayed and Xisuma’s quick promotion to manager while Ex remained a cashier that made him feel disjointed. He felt wrong there. Ex wanted freedom and a place to fit in, but ended up in a shitty gas station job two hubs over. It was fine at first regardless. He had a studio apartment to himself and a stable income. There was no yarn store to supply his knitting habit, but he quickly discovered his neighbor, a man named Welsknight, was an indie yarn dyer. Ex caught sight of his yarns drying on Wels balcony and promptly invited himself over. That was all he needed. Then, he started to get sick. Days off work were spent curled up in the bed with all the lights off. He hardly even touched his knitting needles. He missed an iconic BigB shawl pattern drop.
It happened at the gas station one day that he couldn’t get off the ground. His coworker helped him up before their boss saw him and followed him out after they closed for the night.
“Hey, Evil Xisuma?” They approached him. “You should get something to help. Like a cane? Don’t, uh, bring it here, but use it on your days off. Might help.”
“What do you mean,” Ex spat.
“I mean it’s, like, technically illegal, but he’ll fire you. We’re an at-will employment city, so he can just fire you whenever, uh, especially if he sees you with a cane. It might save your energy on days off. Just keep it on the other side of the city,” they advised.
Ex stopped by a drug store and bought one that night. He did everything they said, but it didn’t matter. His boss shopped at the same value grocery store Ex did and fired him the day after they ran into each other there. He couldn’t prove a damn thing and he knew it even while threatening to sue. It was that same coworker who had to escort Ex off the property that night.
Ex threw the damn cane away and called Xisuma to see if his room back home was still empty barely a week later.
Speaking of the devil, Xisuma of the here and now comes around the corner where Ex sits in front of the fully stocked Knitting for Olive cabinet, lost in thought.
He laughs, not meanly. “Taking a break?”
“Yeah, none of your business.”
“Well, alright, but you’ve still got half a shipment to do.” Then Xisuma stands there and waits. Ex sits there and waits. “Are you going to get up?”
Ex looks up at him and without thinking he confesses, “I can’t.”
“What?”
“I mean, I just don’t want to. Quite the view from down here, y’know we should have Grian sweep more often,” Ex rambles.
Xisuma interjects, “Get up then.”
Ex’s jaw snaps shut. He tries. Honest to Watchers, he almost makes it too. He gets both knees under him, but goes no further, thighs shaking with the effort. He goes back down slower this time. Ex sits with both legs splayed out in front of him, facing Xisuma’s direction. He doesn’t dare look up at his own brother.
“Hold on, I’m going to touch you, okay?” Xisuma reaches down and holds Ex’s hips. “Put your arms on my shoulders, and try to stand.”
It’s an awkward position, but with Xisuma’s help, Ex manages to get standing. He expects Xisuma to step away at this point, but he moves to his side and places an arm under his, locking his forearm against Ex’s. Xisuma guides him towards the area where they host their events and helps ease Ex into a plush armchair. They don’t speak. The two of them rest for a moment. Ex scrambles for a way to play this off, but before he can speak, Xisuma moves away from him. He pulls out his comm as he moves and dials a number on speaker as he approaches their front door. He shuts it, flips the sign to closed, and turns the lock.
Keralis’s voice comes across the phone, small and tinny, as Xisuma comes back over to stand beside Ex. “What’s going on, Shashwammy!”
“Ex needs to go to the hospital, can you come in with xB while I take him?” Ex tries to jump up out of the chair, but Xisuma pushes him back down with one hand.
“Of course! Is Evil Shashwam alright?”
Ex can speak for his damn self he decides, “I’m fine, don’t take me to the hospital.”
Xisuma glances at him, “Keralis, I’ll call you tonight.” He removes his hand from Ex for just a moment to hang up, then moves in front of the chair to block Ex in. “You couldn’t stand up by yourself, Ex, did you fall? You need to see a doctor.”
“I didn’t fall, I’m just like this!”
“What does that mean?” Xisuma’s voice is eerily calm, he hardly moves.
“I don’t know. It hurts to move, it hurts to get up and down, everything just fucking hurts all the time. Has since I moved out.” Ex pointedly avoids thinking about the shaky quality to his own voice. He’s stressed out, okay.
Xisuma is silent for a minute. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why would I?”
“I’m your brother.”
Ex can’t respond to that right now, he just can’t. “Just, help me get home.” He doesn’t really want any more guided walking and shit, but it hurts. Everything, that little pain in his back has turned monstrous, consuming everything.
“Of course.”
Xisuma doesn’t speak to him as he helps Ex into the car. Nor do they speak during the drive home. The best part of the work day is the silent drive to and from the shop, but this time it is a stifling quiet that weighs heavy over his shoulders. It’s almost enough to distract him from the way his body burns with shame and pain.