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The streets of Crossroads laid home to the quiet whispers of night, drowned near inaudible against the loud chattering of the lives that inhabited it. The buzzing of street lamps and the boisterous laughter of customers overstaying their welcome rippled like waves within an ocean, and far off on the shore was the rhythm of old school hip hop bursting from a gear’s speakers.
The sound worked in tune with the beat of an inphernal’s fingertips as he tapped them against the concrete he sat upon. A skatepark on the outskirts of the city seemed to be the only place within the night to harbor these more quiet sounds. The laughter of downtown lay distant, a far off noise against the sound of a gear’s wheels against asphalt, the small buzz of energy within another’s.
And as an afternoon yawned, closed its eyes into night, Coil thought Skateboard was good to a fault. What was so interesting about seeing a guy not even fall off his board once?
“We should hit up Thieves’ Rest,” Coil pushed out a breath, a yawn threatening at the back of his throat. He held his chin within the palm of his hand as he rested his elbow against his knee. His posture was lazy, bored, his gaze far off and distant as he escaped within his mind. He imagined all the ways Skateboard could fall off his gear, something that shook out a small laugh to himself in the wake of it.
“Why, so you can go bother Sling?” Skateboard had called, tone something casual as he aired out the bowl, letting his gear cruise for a moment before skidding to a halt.
Coil had laughed in response, something melodic against the beat of the chorus Boombox found himself nodding his head along to. Two beats, and Coil’s laughter subsided, Boombox’s rhythmic motions going with it as he seemed to think for a moment.
“Y’know, I could go for something,” Boombox said, only a pause before his movement returned to intertwine with the song. With the sound of subtle agreement making its home within the grooves of the music, Coil took that as a success. Pumping his fist in the air in quiet celebration, he brought himself to his feet, his friends following not soon after.
It was not long before they were within the streets of downtown. The hip hop still playing from Boombox’s gear, quieter now, danced in tune with the night life of the city, the warmth of the chatter nearly drowning the rhythm out. As Thieves’ Rest came into view, Skateboard pushed against the concrete, speeding up the gear he was once cruising on to reach the door of the cafe first.
Skidding to a halt, Skateboard teased as he held the door for his friends, a gesture not unlike him. Something about being the fastest, something light and playful. Coil had just waved him off as Boombox and Skateboard laughed, a shared emotion between the two that contributed to the sea of noise as they walked within the cafe.
The establishment was near closing, devoid of customers bar for the three who entered. The inphernal behind the counter looked frazzled, tired in ways Skateboard seemed to notice intently. He always paid close attention to how his friends were feeling, and the one beyond the counter was no exception.
“Yo, Sling. No Shuriken or Vinestaff?” Skateboard greeted. Slingshot’s expression noticeably brightened upon the recognition of Boombox and Skateboard, only to dull again as his gaze met with Coil’s.
“Nah, they left early today. It’s been hectic,” Slingshot puffed out a sigh, shuffling his feet in ways that made his beloved sneakers squeak against the tiled floor. “The usual?” He settled on, pointedly ignoring the presence of the hellhound alongside his friends.
“Actually, I’ll try that new cream puff pastry you got on the menu,” Coil’s voice lay grating against the quiet beat of the song between them, shattering Slingshot’s illusion of his absence. Slingshot wished nothing more but for Boombox to turn up the volume so ear piercing that he would never have to listen to Coil’s voice again.
“Y’know, gotta make sure it’s up to par,” Coil had sung as he made his way to a booth, sitting within it lazily. An expression was plastered upon his face that Slingshot could describe as nothing more than stupid. He hated that particular smile Coil always seemed to wear, the one he upholds when he knows he’s getting underneath Slingshot’s skin.
The smile looked like a nice one. And sure, the inphernal was handsome, Slingshot had thought so at first meetings, but the moment the hellhound opened his mouth he’d done nothing but irritate him.
The tension within the room grew thick. Slingshot’s expression was morphed, twisted in subtle ways that told Skateboard he was annoyed. A beat of silence passed, the only thing filling the air between them was the rhythmic vocals of the next track on Boombox’s playlist.
Skateboard felt himself grow restless as the stare down between his friends seemed to only go on longer, his gaze shifting to Boombox, who seemed to scramble to break it.
“Skateboard and I’ll get the usual,” Boombox spoke suddenly, walking between the two to join Coil within the booth, Skateboard trailing behind.
“Comin’ right up.” Slingshot murmured bluntly, tone wracked in ways that attempted to bury the irritation. But, it shone through cracks in his speech, and Coil relished in it. Slingshot knew he did.
After some time, where Slingshot found himself busy brewing the same coffee Skateboard had always ordered, a stillness enveloped the cafe. It was something calm, a gentle quiet filled only by the chatter of Slingshot’s friends and the smooth rhythm of his favorite song. Working with his hands, baking the treats, brewing the coffee, it was all something cathartic for him in times where the cafe was sparse like this.
Slingshot felt as if, just for a moment, he could forget all about Coil’s stupid face. It felt like the calmness before an eventual storm. Coil just had a talent of making people feel that way, Slingshot guessed.
Skateboard murmured a small thanks as he took his coffee from Slingshot’s hands, passing the plate harboring a small piece of chocolate cake to Boombox as he did so. Yet, such peace Slingshot knew was a temporary one, as the moment the small clink of the plate he had sat down in front of Coil disturbed the music, it had started. Before Slingshot could turn on his heel, return back to his place beyond the counter, Coil took a large bite of the pastry and hummed.
“Y’know,” he chewed, speech dampened by the food in his mouth, “I think I need, like, maybe 5 more of these? Just to tell if it’s any good.” Slingshot pursed his lips tightly upon the sound of Coil’s voice, knitting his brows close together. Slingshot is a perfectionist to a fault, particularly about the quality of his food, often overworking himself to the brink of exhaustion. And, although he told himself he shouldn’t care about Coil’s opinion, an obvious jab to get more food, he felt the frustration boil within him, and he slammed his hands against the table.
“Fine!” The three jolted against the sound of Slingshot’s voice, the cutlery on the table rattling upon the force of Slingshot’s palms. His sneakers squeaked as he stormed off to the kitchen, Boombox’s chewing slowing to a halt as he watched him go. The table remained silent, bar for the stifled laughter Coil hid behind his hands, as the three watched the door Slingshot had slammed behind him. It was not long before he busted through it once again, carrying a pan full of the pastry with white knuckles.
Slingshot slammed the pan against the table, the sound of the metal against its surface reverberating throughout the cafe, scratching against the quiet tune still playing through Boombox’s gear. Slingshot stood there, palm up as he seemed to mockingly present the pastries to Coil. They were jostled from the impact, and Coil had done nothing but grinned, taking one and sinking his teeth within it.
Boombox and Skateboard felt nervous sweat well against their foreheads as they watched Coil chew the pastry slowly, an expression on his face that told Slingshot he was getting a kick out of this. And, after a moment, Coil swallowed, shrugged, and spoke, “S’alright.”
Upon those words, Skateboard swallowed thickly, shifting his gaze to Slingshot. The inphernal’s eyes were wide and his brows furrowed deep, something Skateboard could only describe as almost scary. His tail flicked with irritation, and his expression was twisted, soured. Skateboard half expected Slingshot to launch himself across the table and squeeze his hands against Coil’s throat. Instead, Slingshot closed his eyes and let out a breath, bringing his hand to cover his gaze as a smile began to stretch across his lips.
And, before Boombox could blink, Slingshot erupted into laughter. It was something melodic, a complete contrast against the expression the inphernal harbored only a moment prior. It sounded as if Slingshot had just heard the funniest joke in the world, had been enthused so thoroughly by something he held fondness for. And neither Boombox nor Skateboard missed the way Coil had looked upon the sound.
Coil’s grin took on a quality of softness, only a moment where it wasn’t mocking. It was something easily missed, particularly by Slingshot who still held a palm over his eyes. A quiet thump was heard by the two, a rhythm only explained by the soft impact of Coil’s tail against the vinyl of the booth as it wagged. Boombox and Skateboard had been thoroughly confused, looking at each other as if the other had an answer.
And as quickly as it came, the laughter died out. Slingshot wiped his hand down his face, almost groaning as he dropped it by his side. His expression morphed once again to something irritated, gaze stone cold as he looked upon Coil, who returned the stare with a mocking glint. After only a moment of this, Slingshot pulled his lips into a thin line, his voice serious, “Get out. We’re closing.”
And with those words, Coil laughed, raising from the booth with his hands in the air, “Alright, alright.”
Boombox and Skateboard trailed behind, sending apologetic looks to Slingshot as they left, who only softened his expression and waved them off.
And, as the warmth of the city’s air danced upon their skin, making slow progress to return back to the skatepark, Boombox could only assume the same thing was on both of their minds as Skateboard spoke up, “Why do you like messing with Sling so much?”
Skateboard’s tone wasn’t accusatory, just something simple in curiosity. Coil’s frame remained casual as they continued to walk, the inphernal seemingly still thinking of an answer as his gaze didn’t meet Skateboard’s. After a moment, the fluorescent lights of the neon billboards reflecting against Coil’s skin revealed his cheeks began to harbor warmth, and the inphernal brought a hand from his pocket to scratch awkwardly at the heat.
“I dunno, his reactions are cute?” He settled on, shrugging as if he hadn’t said something incriminating. Boombox had only coughed, turning up the volume of the song still playing from his gear as Skateboard had hummed in response, something uncharacteristically nervous from the two.
And as the inphernals continued to walk within the night, the chatter of the city filling what would be an awkward silence, Boombox and Skateboard shared a thought.
I really, really don’t want to get involved with whatever they have going on.