Chapter Text
The economy was tough. Seven should be grateful for the privilege to work minimum wage in retail. Or at least, that’s what the news had him convinced anyways.
Eggs, milk, onions, tomatoes, cheese, and various other groceries and fresh produce were pushed towards Seven. He proceeded to monotonously scan and bag, the same ritual he’d been performing all day. He couldn’t help but flinch as he read each item’s price, a constant reminder of how steep grocery prices were and how screwed he’d be this month.
He’s not making enough.
He’s making just a little bit more money than if he were to remain unemployed and supporting the kid. He was sick of accepting admin money, though, so he sought work anyhow.
It was an unrelenting December. The frigid temperature had Seven forking over an extra hundred dollars or so just to keep the apartment warm at night. Holidays were around the corner; that was another new adult stressor he’d recently had the joy of experiencing these past few years. Seven wasn’t sure he was going to have enough to afford presents. He’d been putting funds aside since November, but had to dip into them last week when he got hit with a forgotten credit card bill.
“Your total will be $52.44 after tax,” Seven stated, staring at a single bag of groceries.
“Are you serious? What’d I even buy?” A tired looking woman mumbled, more to herself than to Seven. It was a little after five, she was probably coming straight from work. “Alright, can you take off the eggs and bread?”
Seven bit the inside of his lip. He hated this. He hated serving as the gatekeeper of people’s groceries, the responsibility of breaking the news of how badly they’d been scammed by the economy falling on his shoulders. But he had no choice. He either participated or starved. He had to play by their rules. “$40.68 is your new total.”
The woman paid for her groceries and left, undeniably condemning Seven for being the figurehead who took her money.
Seven was twenty-seven now, a far cry from the young criminal who once terrorized the streets of Robloxia. He often found himself consumed by responsibility, something that he used to adeptly shrug off the same way water slid off ducks.
All he had in this life were bills: rent, groceries, utilities, and as much as he hated to say it, the kid. He’d wake up, spend money, make money, then go to bed. What else could he do? He was too exhausted to even think about killing himself. He was merely trapped in this depressing cycle indefinitely.
In any case, he got to clock out at six tonight. He didn’t have enough money to hire a babysitter this week, so he took a couple five-hour shifts and left the kid home alone. He was only five, but he knew where the food was, and would probably just sit on the couch watching TV all day. Seven would be home soon.
His momentary reprieve from the eternal cashier cycle was unfortunately interrupted as a new customer started piling their groceries onto the counter. Seven sighed internally and began to pick away at the growing mountain of produce with his scanner.
“You look tired,” the customer, a tall thin guy who looked about his age said.
“I am tired,” Seven said flatly. The guy didn’t seem to have anything to say back, he just continued to stand at the counter, watching Seven scan his items.
The interaction continued unnotably, Seven barely paying attention as he internally counted down the minutes until he could clock out. In his disassociation, Seven barely noticed as the guy threw a card on the counter and left, his pace casual but swift.
Seven blinked and furrowed his eyebrows, reaching out to grab and inspect it. It was just a slim piece of black cardstock, completely blank. He flipped it over and felt a wave of deja vu flood his senses, nearly dropping the thing out of shock.
Seven’s best friend from his past life, Noli.
Seven and Noli used to do street art in college; or vandalism, as admins called it on the news. It was one of the first things they bonded over. They’d sneak a case of six-packs into the dorm, get tipsy, then go out and tag a couple buildings; bonus points if it was admin-owned property. Seven was always experimenting with different styles, signatures, and blurbs, but Noli had himself all figured out. He’d tag every building with the same little symbol.
And it was staring back at him now, more than half a decade later.
He looked up, but the customer who handed it to him was long gone by now. Seven tried to remember his face, but he could’ve sworn he’d never seen the guy in his life. What kind of crowd was Noli with these days? Seven had no idea.
This card could only mean one thing though. Noli wanted to speak with him.
Since when had the guy gotten so pretentious? A card? Who did he think he was? He knew Noli still had his contact saved. Seven was sure. And if he didn’t, he was certain he probably had it memorized. And the fucker had his Skype, too. Even his email address, if he was feeling particularly frisky. A business card? Seriously. No, seriously. A business card.
And he didn’t even have the guts to deliver it himself? Who the hell was that guy, his henchman? No, absolutely not. Seven wasn’t playing ball.
The lonely thought often haunted Seven, especially when the work day was hard and the apartment was cold: reach out to Noli again.
Once upon a time, they’d been inseparable; ever since becoming roommates in freshman year of college. The two dropped out together and couch surfed around together, eventually landing in separate apartments but still as close as ever. They’d crash parties together, smoke together, drink together, and steal together. They were each others’ bad influence. They truly believed they ran Robloxia and didn’t owe anyone anything. They loved hacking under their criminal aliases and hearing admins slander them over the news. They loved threatening and blackmailing people into forking over cash to blow on whatever vices they wanted.
And then a little someone crashed into Seven’s life and changed everything. Noli watched his best friend change so drastically over the course of a year and he couldn’t understand it. The two became so different in such a short amount of time. Noli was convinced this was some weird phase; a mid-twenties crisis. A psychotic episode, even. He waited for his best friend to return to normal, and when he didn’t, his patience ran out. They hadn’t talked in about four years.
But Seven would be lying if he said he didn’t miss him. And once Noli was gone, Seven realized how truly desolate his social life was. He didn’t really have anyone else he considered a friend. Seas of faceless acquaintances that he drank with over the years, sure, but friends? He found himself coming up dry. Seven spent the last four years only having a toddler for company. It was a very specific kind of bizarre, having the closest person in your life unable to comprehend anything you say or even speak back.
But if Noli was gonna reach out like this? No, he wasn’t biting. He had no idea what weird game the guy was playing at, but he could go fuck himself.
Seven had to reiterate: a BUSINESS card?! Really?
---
“I’m home!” Seven called, the door that didn’t quite fit in its frame scraped across long-dug scuff marks etched onto the wooden floor. No response. Seven wasn’t surprised, the kid often fell asleep when he left him home alone.
He spied a loaf of bread on the counter of the kitchenette, bag open and a few slices fallen forward like domino pieces. A tub of butter and a plastic knife lay beside the bread. Butter sandwich, Seven deduced. Not exactly the most nutritious thing, but he was glad the kid ate something. For whatever reason, children hate eating. Seven understood this fundamental truth well, as he had to endure five years worth of fussy mealtimes and bargaining with a toddler.
The television was just slightly too loud for Seven’s liking, the kid taking full advantage of his father’s absence to play it as loud as he liked. Sure enough, as Seven made his way over to the couch, the kid was sound asleep.
“Geez, Caleb. You really knocked out, huh.” Seven leaned down to the height of his sleeping form, watching his chest rise and fall steadily. Moments like these reminded him that he had really grown to love the kid.
He wasn’t quite sure when it happened, but he knew for sure he didn’t love the kid those first few months. Was that terrible to say? Seven wasn’t quite sure, but it was the truth. For him, it started as more of an obligation, really. Keep this infant alive. He wanted that control. He wanted to know for sure that the kid was alright; he personally would see to it. But undeniably, it was another avenue of control for him. Something he desperately sought after in any way he could.
Somewhere along the line, things began to change. Maybe it was when the kid was old enough to call him dad.
It was hard to believe just a few years ago the kid was a squirming infant in a basket. He’d gotten so big. Five years old. Seven knew he definitely needed to enroll the kid in school at some point, but truth be told, he found himself anxious at the prospect. He knew he was doing a bad job. Fucking up the kid in more ways than he could’ve possibly imagined, and then some. He was not a good father, Seven was well aware of this, and nothing scared him more than being around other parents. Parents who were far more qualified than him. Who’d judge him.
They didn’t get it. They don’t have it like he does. He wasn’t some cushy stay-at-home mom with a wealthy husband. He had to make hard decisions sometimes. Ones they’d never understand.
Was he really such a bad father for that?
Seven adjusted the blanket the kid had crawled under and tucked him in properly, placing a comforting hand on the kid’s forehead. It was warm.
Really warm.
Seven swallowed hard. Stay calm.
He nudged the kid to a sitting position and grabbed a thermometer from the kitchen counter. He stuck it in the kid’s mouth as he stirred awake.
He waited.
102.3°F. Oh my god.
The scariest thing for any parent is when your kid gets sick. Kids’ bodies are still growing, still so new to the world. There’s so much they haven’t been properly trained to handle yet. Something benign in an adult could completely wipe out a kid. Seven tried desperately not to dwell on this as he grabbed his child and threw him in the backseat of his beat-up car. The vehicle roared to life as rubber screeched against asphalt. Caleb was now fully conscious at this point and started to wail from behind him. He wasn’t a baby anymore, and this wasn’t just some tantrum. Something was clearly wrong.
Seven sat with the kid in the waiting room of the doctor’s office. The kid was inconsolable, and all Seven could do was hold him close and ignore the piercing gazes of the two other patients seated close by. There was a vending machine out in the hall, but the kid was apparently in too much discomfort to even want candy when offered. That was a grim sign.
Between the sobs, Seven caught the concerned voice of a newscaster, and turned his attention to the television perched in a corner. The reporter attempted to maintain composure as she reported on another attack near the admin headquarters building. Second one in the last three months. Geez. The world this kid was growing up in wasn’t pretty.
He wondered passively if that’s where he would’ve ended up in another life: a full blown terrorist, bombing parliament buildings and scaring families catching the news in doctor’s offices.
Now, Seven’s life was far from perfect, but there was nothing he could do to fix it. The system was how it was, and reckless destruction wasn’t going to change that. All he could do was try to make an honest life for his little family and move up. He had no respect for the admins, that part of him never changed, but he simply accepted the reality that he was put in front of him. He wasn’t a teenager anymore, tagging public property and messing around with his GUI. He had to grow up and live in the real world.
Seven had flashbacks to the first time he’d taken Caleb to a doctor; when Noli convinced him to leave the baby home alone to go crash a party. He came home hungover to find out the kid had gotten sick while he was out drinking. The circumstances were uncomfortably similar, actually.
Seven actually had insurance now, thanks to his minimum wage job as a grocer. He was excited about this prospect at first, but now understood all too well how insidious it all was. Diagnostic visits weren’t free and he hadn’t met his deductible yet, which meant he’d still be paying out of pocket. At least only up to a few thousand dollars, though.
A few thousand dollars.
“Caleb?” A voice called from across the room. Seven collected his shrieking child and ushered him towards the pediatrician calling his name.
---
So the kid had pneumonia. It wasn’t pretty. The pediatrician had shown Seven an incredibly detailed diagram of infected lungs to really hammer home the diagnosis. The poor kid’s respiratory system was all gunked up. He was lucky he didn’t need to be hooked up to an oxygen tank, the pediatrician informed. It can get that serious apparently.
Seven had known this particular pediatrician for five years now. She was the same woman who treated the kid’s cold on that first doctor’s visit. A sweet older woman. Jane was her name. She’d been working in pediatrics for fifteen years apparently.
Antibiotics were promptly prescribed, and Seven had to pick them up tomorrow. The co-pay was gonna be $40. Seven was already doing the math in his head. He was gonna have to use some of his unpaid sick time to take care of the kid. More time he’s not working. Less money he’s gonna make. Forget buying Christmas presents, was he gonna afford rent this month? Groceries? He hadn’t had to do this in a while, but they might be spending some time in a soup kitchen.
The kid was sound asleep once again. Good. His body needed the rest. Seven had tucked him into his twin mattress that he had yet to buy a bedframe for and lingered by him for a while, just watching him sleep.
Seven suddenly felt his bottom lip quiver, and he fell to his knees.
Hot salty tears streamed down his cheeks. He couldn’t suppress the choked noises that erupted from his lips. He was so lost. He was so stressed. He didn’t know what to do. Who to turn to.
It’d been five years since he got the kid. He thought things would be better by now. More stable. And yet, he was still living paycheck to paycheck, one medical mishap threatening to topple the tiny scraps of progress he’d made.
He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t live like this. It just wasn’t working. But what could he do?
Suicide suddenly seemed like an incredibly relieving concept.
As Seven dug into his pocket for his phone, deeming it too draining of a day to cook dinner, his fingers traced against something unfamiliar. He pulled it out, and found himself reacquainted with the card he’d been given hours earlier. Noli.
Seven found himself desperate for a miracle. Maybe this was fate. Maybe Noli had fixed himself up, and wanted to come back into Seven’s life and help him get on his feet. Maybe Noli was the solution he’d been looking for. He found himself mindlessly typing in the digits of a phone number for a contact he deleted years ago, but he still knew by heart.
The phone only rang once before the line buzzed to life. “Seven.”
The man in question felt his stomach drop. He hadn’t heard that voice in so long. He attempted to maintain his composure. “When did you get so pretentious? A card? Really? Just text me, man.”
“It’s been five years, Sev. A lot’s changed. I’ve expanded the operation,” Noli said, his voice carrying a certain weight to it that he had never noticed before. His words left a pit in Seven’s stomach. ‘Operation?’
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Can’t talk over the phone. We’re gonna have to meet in person, but I have a proposition for you,” As Noli spoke, Seven felt a wave of indignation crash over him.
“Noli, no, we’re not doing this. I thought you just wanted to talk. I haven’t heard from you in five years and this is what you want from me?” He snapped back.
“Sev, I don’t got time for your bullshit, I really don’t. I got a lot on my plate. You’re gonna meet me at Club Red’s tomorrow, and you’re gonna hear me out,” As Noli spoke, Seven couldn’t help but notice the crackling hum of background noise interfering with the call. There were other voices on Noli’s end. A lot of them. Where was he? Clearly somewhere crowded.
The concept of Noli being busy and overwhelmed shocked Seven. Clearly he had done some maturing of his own, but Seven wasn’t quite sure it was in the same direction as him.
Noli seemed to pause, and added. “Just trust me. It’s gonna be good for you, I promise,” and then the line went dead.
Seven stared at his phone for a beat, and fought every fiber of his being to not throw it into the wall, knowing it’d wake up Caleb. That fucking snake. Of course Noli only called because he wanted something from him. And what did he mean by ‘expanded the operation’? Did he get into more serious crime? They weren’t kids anymore. Seven grew out of his delinquency, but it seemed Noli just got into deeper trouble. Should he even be going to meet with him? Was it safe?
Seven glanced at the kid asleep in his bed and sighed. He really was at rock bottom here.
He might as well hear him out. He did miss Noli.