me, an adult person with a job: *has too much time*

[solveforx]

Spring Break, Monday

The first thing Xavier notices is the cold. It's not just that the ambient temperature in New York is lower, though. It's his whole body. Memories of the last few days flood him and sink heavy in his stomach. What would his family think? and does he even care? He steps into his parents' sitting room like he's stalking into a den of lions. It's familiar, but in the way the home of an aunt or uncle you see once a year is familiar. The room is well decorated, clean and untouched, like a photo in a design magazine. A place that’s fun to imagine hosting a party in, but that you know sees very few guests. He misses the cabin.

"Oh, you're not spending the week at your huggy-bug hippy camp?" His little sister appears in the doorway between the sitting room and the hall looking, somehow, simultaneously surprised and disappointed. She’s holding a half eaten sleeve of graham crackers.

"Nah, they kicked me out." Xavier says coolly. Already, he feels himself falling into that muted mood he calls his home defense system. He adjusts the bag slung over his shoulder, grabs the sleeve of crackers out of her hands as he passes by and stuffs one in his mouth as he heads down the hall toward the stairs. "Where're mom and dad?"

"Shitter." Nisha rolls her eyes, "Where else would they be?"

Xavier pauses, mouth full. "They didn't take any time off work?"

"Do they ever?"

Nisha's put on exasperation with her brother is not enough to keep him from recognizing the familiar sound of hurt in her voice. He turns and looks at her. Puzzling out his little sister is a trying endeavor, because it leaves him feeling unsettled when he recognizes himself in this small girl he barely speaks to. Xavier doesn't necessarily want to spend time with David and Ankita. In fact, the thought of it is more stressful than anything he can presently imagine. But, still, the fact that they hadn’t even bothered to make time to see their own kids stings a little.

"Hey," Xavier says after what feels like an eternity, "What're y’doin' today?"

Nisha purses her lips, brow furrowed. She peers at her brother suspiciously. "Why do you care?"

"Why don't you teach me that crazy spiral thing you can do on your broom?" He pauses to munch on another graham cracker, "I'll take you out for a burger, afterward."

Nisha's expression flickers at the suggestion, but only for a split second. Her brows quirk up, her eyes brighten, her lips part ever so slightly, and then the look is gone. Back to that flat, dark scowl. It makes the corner of Xavier's mouth twitch, unsure of what exactly he's just witnessed.

"Why? D'you even think you can manage it?" Nisha scoffs at him. He knows it’s a test, and he knows exactly how to reply. A lazy shrug, the body language equivalent of ‘shucks, probably not, but it doesn’t matter to me.’ It immediately sets her off. She lets out a groan that cuts off just short of a yell and spits, “Why do you always have to be like that? Can’t you be cool for once in your life?”

Zav takes a step back from the blast zone. He feigns ignorance, but is already regretting poking this tiger. This is going to be a rough week. Still, he can’t help himself. "What?"

"Oh, quit being such a fuck. You know exactly what I mean." Nisha stomps forward and snatches the graham cracker sleeve back out of his hands. She holds one up to her mouth, but doesn’t take a bite. Instead, in a mocking, childish tone, she says, "I'm Xavier Lewis. A giant baby. Things are hard sometimes and it's SO TERRIBLE. If I act incompetent no one will ever put any pressure on me and I can be a sack of shit for my whole life. Who has two thumbs and loves wasting every gift given him? This guy."

Being read for filth by your sister is pretty rough, but it’s only really bad if he shows weakness. Apathy, Xavier had learned long ago, is the best armor against familial ire, and the punch-to-the-gut feeling does not register in his expression. "Damn, dude." Xavier mainly responds to his sister’s fury, but then he tacks on, "Got it in one, I guess."

"Fuck you." Nisha says, but there’s no fire behind it. Her hands find her hair and after running her fingers through it, she grabs a front lock and begins to twist it.

Pursing his lips, Xavier looks at his sneakers for a long moment before flicking his gaze up to his sister, again. "So are you going to teach me the move, or what? I gotta wow everyone at my huggy-bug hippy camp school."

"Yeah," Nisha sighs, making sure that it sounds like even consenting is a chore, "But after that bullshit, you need to buy me a milkshake, too."

Xavier huffs out a laugh. "Sure. Lemme put my stuff down. Go get your broom."

---

Spring Break, Tuesday

Ankita and David have already gone to work by the time Xavier leaves his sparsely decorated bedroom on Tuesday morning. All according to plan. When he steps out into the upstairs hall, he can hear the tinny sound of too much treble blaring from speakers that can’t handle it. The heartbeat thrum of the music is vaguely familiar, but he can’t quite place the melody. What the hell is Nisha listening to? He doesn’t give it much thought before he pads up the hall to the bathroom.

Poorly equalized dance music is still rumbling the floor when Xavier’s done with his shower. Towel over his head, he tugs on his jeans and heads back down to his bedroom to pull on a shirt, grab a jacket and a modest audio dock speaker.

A pulsing dance mash up of pop and rap thunders through the first level. Unable to help it, a grin cracks Xavier’s flat expression as he recognizes the song. He follows the volume to its loudest point. The kitchen. Nisha is seated at the breakfast nook, sunning herself as she eats a piece of toast with jam, eyes on a book. Her tiny phone is screaming music from speakers that, based on the way the windows are rattling, probably have had Sonorous worked on them.

“Is that Girl Talk?” Xavier can’t stop himself from laughing. He almost has to yell to be heard.

“What’s it to you?” Nisha responds as though the house’s foundation isn’t being degraded by noise pollution. She doesn’t look up from her novel, but she does tap the phone with her wand, dismissing the spell.

Xavier joins his sister at the tiny circular breakfast table, depositing the portable speaker under his arm with a thunk. “Good gracious, give that to me, please.”

This draws her eyes up from the book. Even though she's handing him the phone, she still sounds as though she doesn't trust him when she asks, “Why?”

Xavier takes the tiny device in his hands, flicks awkwardly through a few screens, pauses the music, pokes a few settings and brings up the equalizer. He fools around with the bars on the screen until his sister’s phone is set to something not completely shameful and then plugs the phone into the speaker dock. Glitch pop explodes from the little device, bright and pounding. Not perfect, but much better. “My ears thank you, dear sister. Where’d you find Girl Talk?”

Nisha is silent for a moment. She shrugs.

“Probably the shelf in my bedroom, huh?” Xavier says with a bit of an edge. He stands and helps himself to some yogurt.

She changes the subject. “So, Apparition test today, right? Third try? You gonna actually pass this time?”

Xavier grabs a bear-shaped bottle of honey out of the cabinet above his head, then turns and looks at his sister. He can tell that she can tell that he’s about to give a noncommittal, wishy-washy answer, because she lowers her head and narrows her eyes at him as he drizzles the honey over his breakfast.

“Um...” If he’s not allowed to equivocate, Xavier has nothing to say, so he shovels a spoonful of yogurt into his mouth while one five-minute-long song ends and the next begins.

“Here’s a question for you,” Nisha returns her attention to her book and her toast. After chewing and swallowing a bite, she continues, “Why don’t you just, like, fucking try?”

“It doesn’t work that way.” Xavier says, rejoining his sister at the breakfast nook. This conversation is a bit like trying to walk across a floor lined with broken light bulbs, but Xavier is intrigued by the sheer volume of words his baby sister is willing to exchange with him.

“Nah, listen my dude, it’s like this,” When Nisha says this, Xavier can’t tell if she’s mocking him, “When your brain does that thing—that, ‘Oh shit! A test! Time to fuck up!’ thing? Just, like, tell it ‘No.’ Tell it, ‘I’m Xavier Lewis, a semi-competent human being. I can do this. Even my sister who hates me knows I can do this.’”

“You think I’m semi-competent.” Xavier coos and flutters his eyelashes.

“Just fucking try it, would you? Asshole.”

They finish their respective breakfasts in silence. Xavier finishes getting ready, packs up his things, throws on his headphones and heads out. It’s a forty-five minute walk to the Apparition Licensing Office. When he gets there, he thinks of his sister and how she thinks he’s semi-competent. How she knows he can do this.

And he passes.

---

Spring Break, Wednesday

“Stand up straight. Smile. And suck your stomach in. You’re so pretty when you try.” Ankita is lecturing her daughter. Nisha is taking it like a champ. Xavier watches them from the sitting room mirror as he adjusts his tie. Ankita tilts her head to the side, attention still on her daughter, “Why do you do that with your hair? why don’t you part it on the--”

“Think I’m gonna get a job as a lifeguard this summer.” Xavier says.

In the reflection, he sees his mother look at him. She turns so quickly it’s unsettling. Almost a lurch. Like the ghost in the horror movie he’d seen over winter break. In the immaculate, barely lived in living room, it feels like a horror movie. Xavier’s eyes bug out a little as he smooths down the lapels of his suit jacket, but his expression remains otherwise unchanged. Ankita stares at the back of his head like she’d burn a hole through it if she could. She’s smiling; processing how best to respond to this revelation from her eldest. Xavier gets the sense he’s about to be eaten alive.

And then that too warm closet in the Grotto pops into his head. If Ankita reacted to a joke about being a lifeguard like this, Xavier doesn’t want to think of how explaining his attraction to another guy will go. Not that he has any reason to at this point. Or ever. He and Reid aren’t anything. He fucked that one right up. Like he fucks up everything. The thought leaves him numb.

“My Madh, glad to hear you’re thinking about the future, but… lifeguard? What about college? An internship, even? I could get you a scribe spot at MACUSA. Anything. You know how much I worry about you. People talk, and I just want so much more for you than...” Ankita trails off, voice straining in a way that used to have a certain affect on Zav. It hasn’t worked its magic since last August.

Xavier catches his sister’s intense gaze in the mirror. She gives him an almost imperceptible nod. After that, the lazy smile he plasters on his face comes easily. He turns to his mother and, drawling, says, “I’m seventeen, mom. It’s cool. I need to have some fun. Like, work on my tan. Plenty of time to do that other stuff later. Chill.”

The aura of fury radiating from Xavier’s mother can be felt from the next room, which is why David intervenes. “Xavier don’t tell your mother to chill. Have some respect.”

“Sorry.” Xavier says.

Satisfied with his son’s mumbled apology – though Xavier has no clue how David heard it – his father moves on, “Annie, can you come here and help me with my bow tie.”

“I swear, David.” Ankita sighs. She walks halfway out of the room, pauses, and stares at her children, “I need you two to be on your best behavior tonight.”

Nisha and Xavier reply in unison. “Mmhmm.”

“I’m useless with this tie, honey.” David says, the pet name clipped and impatient.

When Ankita leaves, Nisha lets out a heavy sigh and pushes invisible wrinkles out of her dress. She stares at Xavier with her big, dark eyes, her lips tight and pursed. No telepathy needed. He returns the look with a lopsided smile.

“I’ll sit between you and mom.” Xavier says.

Nisha scoffs and just like that, the moment is gone. “Uh, sorry, but my dudes are gonna be there. I got plans, my man.”

“Plans? Your...dudes?” Xavier’s gaze falls to the floor. He pushes his fingers through his hair. He doesn’t notice the way his sister flusters at her own words.

It takes her a moment to reply, and when she speaks, it comes out haltingly, “Yeah. My dudes. School friends. Aren’t your dudes going to be there?”

“Um...” Xavier’s hand finds the back of his neck, next. “I mean, I guess there’ll be some people from school...”

“Well, go hang out with them, then.” Nisha snaps.

“Fine, asshole.” He spits back at her, “Why would I want to hang out with a bunch of middle schoolers, anyway?”

“Xavier. Language.” David calls from the dining room. Xavier considers putting one of his feet through a wall.

Nisha laughs, “I’m fourteen. Math genius.”

“Okay, okay. Before we spark the Third War, let’s go.” Ankita hurries back into the room looking glamorous. David is in tow. She goes to the fireplace, slipping on one sparkling earring, and scoops up the urn of floo powder from the mantle. “Big smiles, everyone. And no talking to the press.”

One at a time, each of the Lewises passes through the Floo Network bound for New York City and their big, fancy MACUSA party. Xavier is the last one to grab a handful of sand. He replaces the urn on the mantle and stares at the ashes, seriously considering requesting “the Lodge at Gooseberry High School in Utah.”

But he chickens out.

New York City it is.

---

Spring Break, Thursday

THIS SPACE RESERVED FOR MAUDLIN BULLSHIT I'LL NEVER POST HAHA

---

Spring Break, Friday

Alba stares down at Xavier from her perch on the other side of the bedroom, avian impatience written on her face, piercing yellow eyes like giant half moons. Xavier is bent over his desk, scribbling in a notebook and paying her no mind, even as she lets out a soft hoot. When he doesn’t respond, she bobs her head in a circular motion, clicks at him, and then begins an awkward climb down from her wooden post. There’s no space to fly indoors, so she lowers herself to the ground and crosses the room at a waddle, talons clacking against the wooden floor. Using her beak for assistance, Alba scales the back of Xavier’s chair.

This is terribly undignified and Xavier will pay for it.

“Hold on, Alba.” He says, not looking up from his writing.

The massive owl seems to dance, twisting her head and bobbing her body to the beat of music only she can hear. After a moment of this, and no visible reaction from her human, she attempts to bridge the gap between the back of Xavier’s chair and his shoulder. The distance is too far. Her stubby leg dangles uselessly in the air as she grasps for him, so she just screeches in his ear instead.

“Damn,” Xavier jumps, turning to glare at his familiar, “Hold on, Alba, would you?”

Click click click. She replies, then reaches out and pulls a bit of his hair through her beak, preening. Xavier sighs at her, his expression softening. He twists himself in his chair and massages the top of her head.

“I’ve got some stuff for you to deliver for me.” He says, “But first, check this out.”

Without thinking, Xavier offers the bird his arm. She hops on and he cringes when she braces herself against his bare skin. He brings her over to the desk top and she vaults off, squeezing a bit too hard with her talons on the dismount.

“Ow.” Xavier says as red liquid beads on his forearm. Alba does not react. This is sufficient punishment.

The owl is most interested in the thick envelopes neatly stacked along the far corner of the desk and she struts over to take a look at the addresses while her human dabs blood off of himself. “Not those,” Xavier tosses the soiled napkins in the trash and picks up the notebook resting on the desk in front of him to show to his pet owl. “This.”

He turns the tablet of graphing paper around for her to see. It’s overloaded with impossibly complicated equations and scratch work. Even an adult human would find most of what is written on the page incomprehensible. Alba may be a magic owl, but that doesn’t make her a statistician. She knows about delivering mail, preening and eating rodents, mostly. Zip codes. How to tell if something is a 7 or a 1. Not arithmetic. She lowers her head, stares Xavier in the eye and clicks her beak. Xavier interprets this as, “You’ll have to explain.”

Xavier does not speak owl, but Alba knows that her human has been feeling out of sorts. She also gets the distinct impression he has been unfaithful and is conversing with other birds, and she’s feeling a little jealous. So when he starts talking, she quirks her head to the side and listens. Or pretends to.

“You know my senior project, right?” Xavier begins, as though he’s talking to a human, “I always just figured I was, like, loading up on raw data or whatever. But then I started plugging numbers from class into one of my equations and it was kind of accurate.”

Alba hoots softly in response to this. She doesn’t really understand, but she knows by the tone of Xavier’s voice that his words are intended as a revelation and she should sound surprised or impressed.

“So I got my hopes up,” He sets the notebook down flat and gestures to different parts of the page as he explains, “And I popped some numbers for myself in and, well, this can’t be right.”

“It says ‘armadillo.’” Xavier’s voice quavers unsteadily. He gives his familiar a sad-eyed, defeated look and for good measure, repeats, “That can’t be right.”

Alba doesn’t really know much about existential crises or the terrifying realization that work you’ve been spending the last two years on may be useless. What she recognizes is that this young man who has taken care of her since he, himself, was a human owlet, is very sad and confused and afraid. Alba emits a high pitched twittering sound as Xavier rests his forehead on the desk. She hops forward to stand on that notebook that is so distressing to her human and nibbles at his hair.

Xavier lifts his head.

Click, click. Alba touches her forehead to Xavier’s and offers one last reassuring click with her beak.

He laughs and drags his hand across his eyes. “Thanks.”

Alba hoots and turns her head almost completely around to stare at the thick envelopes on the far corner of the desk.

“Yeah, fine.” The hint of a smirk touches Xavier’s lips. He reaches out at paws the envelopes, dragging them over. “Be, like, so super careful with these Albatross. Maybe just take one at a time and come back? They’re applications so they’ve gotta be, like, pristine.”

Alba coos, sounding a little offended as Xavier leans over to open the bedroom window. She hops to the open sill while he puts the first manilla envelope in something easier for her to carry, then lifts a leg so that he can secure the leather strap to her foot.

“Thanks, Alba,” Xavier says as she takes flight. His eyes widen after a second's delay and he leans out the window to yell, “Don’t pick up lunch on the way! Wait until the delivery’s made.”

Comments

just kind of sighs @ myself

[solveforx]

Monday: God Damn These Vampires - The Mountain Goats
Tuesday 1: This Is A Remix - Girl Talk
Tuesday 2: Cleveland Shake - Girl Talk (the end of this song gets very loud)
Wednesday: Coral Bracelet - April March
Thursday: We Will Become Silhouettes - The Postal Service
Thursday 2: TBD never
Friday: Lemon Soda - NGC 3.14 x Tenkitsune