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¤ ZACHARY "ZACK" COLTON ¤
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"Smile"
"What?"
Suddenly the room was blanketed in white. Without warning the eccentric photographer snapped Zack's photograph. The flash from the camera was blinding. Zack fought with his eyesight to adjust, squinting and blinking furiously. The white began to fade and fragments of light began to float around him in small dots, each growing smaller and smaller revealing a bigger picture which was the cafe. When his eyesight was regained, the photographer had already left. He remembered him saying something about keeping a photograph, but Zack hadn't been paying full attention to the man. He was blinded by him after all. It was then he wondered what kind of face he had been making at the time of the photograph. It had to have been something ridiculous.
Still with cookies in hand, Zack was defeated. He would have no choice but to take them with him. Zack leaned over the counter and helped himself to a bag, placing the cookies delicately inside. They'd probably be his dinner later, or something of the sort. Thinking back, he had no groceries in his house. Zack started to wonder if the left over noodles in his fridge were still okay to eat. Not like it would make a difference. Zack would nuke it to death and eat it regardless.
Living by himself for such a long time, Zack had lost any sense of priorities. He didn't cook because he didn't care, and there was nobody around to tell him otherwise. He didn't own a television because there was no sense in watching it if he had nobody to talk to about it. He cut himself off from society because he didn't care. Zack had nothing to loose, and nothing to gain. His soul purpose was to live out his promise to Andy. Even then he was doing poorly at it. Somewhere down the line, Zack had lost his sense of purpose in this world, and he was having a terrible time coming back to it. The days strung on into endless hours and weeks seemed like decades. Nothing changed. Ever.
This morning however, was something different entirely. Zack normally never went out for his coffee, let alone stayed out as long as he had been. He was even socializing with new faces, something he hadn't done in quite a long time. Though Zack wasn't sure what to make of it. Especially the tall man who lingered behind the counter. He seemed determined to make Zack talk about his troubles, even though the incubus assured him that he didn't have to speak. But in the back of Zack's mind he couldn't help but feel some sort of want to speak to the incubus. The large man certainly seemed genuine enough.
But why start with him? Zack hadn't spoken of Andy's death to anyone. Not a solitary soul to this day understands why Zack is so glum all the time. He refuses to tell people, partially because he feels that it's not their problem, and that he needs to deal with his losses on his own. Then again, keeping everything inside has been tearing him apart piece by piece. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all to talk to the incubus. It would certainly lift some of the weight from his shoulders, and he seemed to be carrying a lot of it with him these past few days.
"You would be surprised with what I can help fix. I may not look it, but trust me when I say I heard them all, and see plenty of them. I won't tell a soul, and I like to help people. Not like I have to many things aside this place to worry about." Zack lifted his coffee to his lips, staring all the while at the incubus as he spoke. "Life can be tough and you can see things you wish to forget, loose people you love..." Zack nearly spit his coffee across the counter. What was it about this man? He seemed to be spot on about everything. Almost too spot on. Zack's pupils shrunk for a moment, though he maintained a calm demeanor now avoiding eye contact with the incubus. "But, the most important thing is to keep on living, pull through those hard time. I am sure that is what the people who care about you want."
How would he know what Andy wanted? It's not like he could walk right up and ask him. He's six feet under dirt, in a cemetery, under a shady tree, on a hill back in America. Zack watched them lower his casket, so he knew full well where his best friend was. It was almost as if this incubus was a medium, or- "Are you a mind reader or something?" Zack questioned the incubus, his brow raised. It was written across Zack's face that he was kidding with the man. The incubus had said that he's seen it all walk through his double doors. Maybe he was just an excellent body reader. Regardless, it weirded Zack out slightly about how accurate the man behind the counter was. Zack leaned against the edge of the counter, balancing his weight on his left hip as he stared again into his black coffee. He brought the lid up to his lips and took another sip. Now it was the perfect temperature. This coffee will be gone now in mere minutes. "This coffee," Zack began, holding the cup up high next to his head to put on display as he spoke. "This is healing enough for me today Raphael. Thank you," he ended with a nod. "Maybe someday I'll take you up on your offer, but right now I need to work this out on my own."
Turning his gaze again to the floor, Zack's face took on one of disappointment once again. All this talk of the crimson haired man rose some suspicion in Zack's mind. When the incubus warned the group to take heed, Zack shook his head. "Even if I wanted to Raphael, I don't think my line of work would allow it." Zack held up his pager before the group, revealing a shiny silver badge attached to the bottom of it. It had the police emblem on it, though he wasn't technically police. He didn't run around the city wielding a gun or a uniform. No. He put men in jail or in the ground with words. But he was helping the city in some way or another from crime. Funny, considering his heavy crime background. Thankfully Zack had been able to forge his own history, and they didn't ask twice about it. He was a great negotiator, and that I guess was enough for this city.
"I can't ignore the boss," Zack smiled and shrugged. And with that, his pager began to ring. "Speaking of which," he turned from the crew, nodding as he began to make his exit. "Thank you for the coffee Raphael, and for the pep talk," he said, head tilted and coffee raised in the air with one hand, signaling a full handed wave to the incubus. "This won't be the last time you see me," Zack smiled, his words genuine.
The pager beeped and beeped... and beep-beeped? His pager never beep-beeped. Almost like it was an echo. But how? It wasn't loud enough to echo in this crowded place. Zack's brow turned down as he tried to listen for the source of the noise. As if lowering his brow would do any good in that matter. It was a human thing. Nearly at the door, the extra beep was at it's loudest. Zack peeked his head around the corner to get a better look at the place, and to hopefully find the extra beep's source. No other pager had a beep like that.
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l o c a t i o n↝ Sweet Dreams ✖✖✖✖✖✖ m o o d↝ Unwell ✖✖✖✖✖✖ w i t h↝ Raphael and Claude
