Work Text:
You had been having the worst possible week of your life. If there was one thing you were certain of, it was that. What you weren’t certain of, was the way your body swayed as you stood at your boss’ office door. There was a lump in your throat you couldn’t swallow, and your hands were clammy and shaking. This was going to be the worst conversation of your life. When you arrived for work on Monday, there had been stacks and stacks of paperwork on your desk that the weekend shift was supposed to have finished. On Tuesday, you were running late, and hadn’t had to time to pack a lunch, or eat breakfast. You collapsed in your bed before you could even make dinner.
Wednesday afternoon had been Hell incarnate itself, ironically speaking. The other manager in your department had quit with absolutely no notice, and had left you to pick up the pieces. She was a bitch, but still…
The employees that worked for her refused to listen to you, even though you were the only one who was doing the job correctly. It had fried every last nerve in your body, and you had been on edge since you arrived this morning. Every noise had been too loud, every voice too grating. A demon came up to you a few hours into your shift, and started complaining about every. Little. Thing.
You can’t even remember her name at this point, just that she was dressed way too provocatively for the office, and that her face looked like she was hit by a 2x4. She tattled to Velvette about something that didn’t happen, and now Vox asked to speak with you.
Oh, I guess you did know why you were standing at his office door.
Your ears were ringing as you knocked on his door, waiting for permission to enter. Your eyes darted across the room as you stood fidgeting with your hands. You tried your best to take in a breath, but the knot in your chest wouldn’t let you.
“Come in!” Vox’s voice boomed through the wall, and you reached for the door knob. You pushed the door open and walked inside. You shoved your hands behind your back to try and look more professional.
“Hi, sir,” You said. “You wished to speak with me.”
Vox stood there, his arms crossed in front of his chest.
“I heard there was a problem on your floor,” he said.
Your hands still shake behind your back, and you started pressing your thumb into the palm of your hand. The other managers name finally pops into your head.
“Janet quit yesterday,” you say. “She hasn’t been replaced, and I’ve been trying to-“ You trail off. The room starts spinning around you, your vision had been blacking around the edges, and you hadn’t noticed yet. You take a breath, your chest tightening as you do so.
“Spit it out, y/n,” Vox says, waving his hand through the air. “I don’t have all day, and we have work to do.”
Your eyes meet his, and he somehow immediately notices something is wrong. You take a step forward, your legs giving out from underneath you as all the emotions built up from the week hit you like a train. Vox reaches forward to catch you, grabbing your shoulders to try and steady you in front of him.
Tears start burning your eyes and you can’t fight them off.
“I-I-I was trying to-“ You start babbling the rest of your sentence. “To pick up the-the slack.”
Vox stares at you slack-jawed, not knowing what to do or say.
“They refused to listen. I didn’t-didn’t know…”
You try to finish your sentence, but your voice hitches in your throat. Your breathing becomes uneven and shallow, your heart beating a thousand miles a minute. You clutch at your blouse, pulling the front of it away from your chest.
“I can’t-“ You manage. “Breathe. Can’t breathe.”
You try to push yourself up from the floor, but your vision starts going black around the edges again.
“Hey,” Vox calls. “Hey!”
You snap your head around to face Vox, the tears that were threatening to fall now spilling down your cheeks. The world felt like it was falling down around you, everything you built was crumbling. Your other hand had snaked into your hair, tugging a handful of strands out of the intricately woven braid that had cascaded down your back. Vox was trying to get your attention, but everything was fading out of earshot.
The ringing in your ears was deafening, your breathing definitely wasn’t good, and the way you were yanking on your hair was starting to become just a tad bit painful.
You felt like you were dying, maybe you were. You. Were. Dying.
“Y/n. Y/N!” Vox’s voice somehow cuts through the ringing.
You haven’t looked at him yet, you were too afraid to see the judgment in his eyes.
“Look at me,” he says. “Y/n, I need you to look at me.”
You finally turn your head, his eyes meeting yours. You watch as he wraps his arms around you, and you can’t help but sob into his shoulder. Your arms fall to your sides as every single emotion built up over the course of this week spills out.
“It’s okay, y/n.” He says. “I’ve got you.”
“Vox,” you manage. “I’m going to throw up.”
Vox pulls away from the hug, searching your face for any signs of nausea.
“Stay here,” he says, standing up from his place on the floor. “I’ll be right back.”
You lean over onto his glass coffee table, squeezing your eyes shut, and willing your impending migraine to go away. Your breathing was still erratic, but it had finally started slowing down. Your mouth fills with saliva, and you try your best to talk yourself out of it. You can feel the bile rising up in the back of your throat, and you mentally curse Satan himself for making you like this.
You feel a hand on your back, and it almost makes you jump out of your skin.
“Sorry,” Vox says, placing a trash can on the floor in front of you. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
You can feel the color drain from your face as you heave over the bin. The vomit forces itself up and out, the muscles in your stomach clenching from lack of sustenance. You can feel Vox reaching for your hair, sighing as he holds it up and out of your way. The acrid smell invades your nostrils, making you gag, and you realize you’re still crying.
“Vox,” you say, without pulling your head up. “Why are you helping me?”
You can hear him inhale. “You’re my favorite employee, so I…somewhat care for you.”
“Don’t tell anyone I told you that.”
You somehow feel yourself smile. “No. Of course not.”
You pull your head up from the trash can, confident that you won’t throw up again.
“Hey,” he says softly. “There we go. It’s nice to see you smile.”
A blush somehow creeps up to his cheeks, and he turns his face away. Vox clears his throat, clearly embarrassed.
“How are you feeling, y/n?” He asks.
You sigh. “I don’t know. I can breathe, that’s a start.”
You see Vox smile at the statement, and this time you feel a blush creep across your face.
“You’ve got some color in your face,” he says.
“Janet quit yesterday,” I say. “Left with no fucking notice. I was just trying to pick up the slack, but no one respected my orders.”
You sit back against the coffee table, finally catching your breath for the first time in days. You can feel the rage radiating off of Vox, and you’re hoping he’s not thinking of doing anything drastic. Your whole body shakes as you reach for the trash can again, a wave of nausea smacking you in the face.
“I’m sorry, sir,” you say, trying your best to defuse the tension that’s hanging in the air. “I’m nothing but a burden.”
You can sense Vox’s face dropping, feel his eyes on your back.
“You’re not a burden, y/n,” he says. The statement startles you, as you’re used to seeing the rough side of Vox. “You’re the hardest worker I have, you make me the most money.”
You want to laugh at that, because of course he’s thinking about his work, about his money.
“I need you to be honest, sir,” you say. “Why are you helping me?”
“You asked me that already,” Vox says.
“So,” you say. “Answer me honestly this time.”
A blush creeps across Vox’s cheeks, and you can hear him force a cough. “I care for you,” he says. “For some reason I can’t explain. I need you to be okay.”
“You actually care for me, sir?” You ask.
“As I said, yes, I do. And you can call me Vox. No more of this, “sir” bullshit.”
“Okay, Vox. You need to hire another manager for my department,” you say. “I can’t handle this shit anymore.”
“I’ll find someone as fast as I can. I don’t want you puking all over my office again.”
You smile, feeling a little bit lighter than you had in weeks. Vox digs into his pocket, pulling out a stick of gum, and placing it in the palm of your hand.
“Here,” he says. “For your breath. You can stay here and freshen up for a few, but then I expect you to get back to work.”
“Thank you,” you say.
“Don’t thank me,” he says. “You’re fine now, so, I have to head out. Velvette has been calling me for the past 20 minutes.”
You shove the stick of gum into your pocket, standing on your finally steady feet. You reach behind you, pulling your braid onto your shoulder. You yank the hair tie from its place, undoing the braid that had taken you forever to get right this morning. You wipe your face off with the back of your hand, Vox giving you a reassuring smile before both of you head out of the office.
Vox rests his hand on your shoulder, giving you another reassuring smile.
“If you need anything,” he says. “You can come find me, and I’ll drop everything.”
“Thank you, Vox. That means a lot,” you say.
The two of you part ways, with him heading up to Velvette, and you heading back down to your office. As soon as you sit in your office chair, you are bombarded with emails. Most of them asking when Janet was coming back. You smile, knowing she never is. You know Vox will make them listen, as if the pure rage radiating off of him wasn’t evidence enough.
You take a sigh of relief, realizing someone here is finally in your corner, and you won’t go through anything alone anymore.