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From what James has heard on the streets, whether it’s the streets of LA or colorado, or even during his limited time in Los Santos, Aleks and Gavin are… complicated.
Gavin, of course, is the golden boy. Hades incarnate. Midas, in all his golden glory. An immaculate statue with all the wealth and power los santos has to offer. Aleks is his Fool, serving the king of gold without a second thought, blindfolded to the true crimes he’s committing; hands bound, perched on knees bruised from years of worship and a knife pressed into the clutches of his fists with a whisper from Midas; kill. The Fool is a servant, a clone of his master with power and wealth and greed, starved and hungry for more ; of what, no one knows. Some say he is an illegitimate child, kept secret all these years before being released to the public to strike fear into their hearts; others say he is a lover, separate to Michael or Geoff or the others. A dirty little secret. A toy set to the side for Gavin to use when he wants, a pretty doll to be hidden away and kept pristine in his box.
Aleks’ side of the story, or, as much as he’ll tell James, makes a lot more sense.
Gavin is still godly, less of a Hades and more of a Soteria. A safety blanket. Still Midas, but reluctant to touch, to ruin . Instead, Midas slipped on his gloves and went to work in the gardens, growing his flower from a simple seed into a thriving plant. He harvests the rose and admires its beauty. Midas leaves the thorns where they are, adoring the danger and the dark beauty from the elegant plant. Midas tends to the flower, teaching and loving until, eventually, he removes his gloves and watches the rose shift and adjust before blooming beautifully with the gold that travels along the stem like blood soaking a bandage. Gavin is gold, eyes sharp and dangerous like gilded steel with bronze skin to match. He is flexible, he is elegant. He is matured beyond his years, he has adapted and he is strong . Aleks is different. He is just as elegant, but he is hard . He has an added copper, tarnished metal, flaws, wariness, he is not easy to trick or tempt. He is damaged, yet is is stronger than most. Aleks is pale, eyes dark and soul darker, but his cheeks are ruddy and sun reddened like rubies glistening bright on a silver ring. White gold symbolises friendship and Gavin symbolises fidelity, Aleks symbolises a deep and unconditional love . Aleks is hesitant, he can also be described as scared -
But James knows first hand; when aleks loves, he loves hard.
---
The first time James experiences this love, he’s alone with Aleks; it isn't the first time they’ve been alone like this, considering they’ve been performing this messy dance to an audience of zero for months now, around four or five, but it’s the first time its felt this way.
This first sign love is gentle- the day hasn't gone well, a failed heist and the crew barely escaping by the skin of their teeth. They’re both tired and injured, James more so (he can remember with confidence, despite being unable to remember a lot of the day, the visceral fear that had formed on Aleks’ face, eyes wide and mouth open, face paler than he’s ever seen and hand outstretched as if he could use sheer force of will to stop the butt of the shotgun crashing against his temple, or the bullet that embedded itself in his shoulder quickly after), yet the adrenaline hasn’t left them yet. James’ movements are uncoordinated, a fawn on ice, so aleks guides him with gentle hands. He encourages james to sit back, so he does. James tilts his head back and keeps one hand linked with aleks’, their palms sweaty and sticking together uncomfortably and james can't imagine it any other way. James twitches his fingertips against the end of aleks’ wrist, tracing along his veins and feeling the reassuring thrum of his pulse, a little fast but steady and strong . Aleks shudders slightly, a look in his eyes showing a sad sort of exhaustion, but James doesn't mention it.
Aleks’ mouth against his body is wet and warm, but the look in his eyes is even warmer. James feels like he's standing under the sun with his arms stretched wide; like he’s laid on the warm, white sand of a beach with the cool ocean tide lapping at his feet; like he's home.
---
The second time this love is shown, James isn't able to appreciate it as much as he wants to.
His body aches, the pain embedded in his bones to the point of seering white agony. It feels like there's stitches in every inch of his body, bandages tight and slightly damp against his skin from the leaked blood. He remembers what happened idly, jumped in an alley before dragging himself to the warehouse and passing out in the medical room. Aleks is clear in the edges of these memories; if his face is blurred, then the warmth of his skin against james’ is what he remembers of that second.
He turns his head to the side quietly and shuffles a little under the covers, carefully working up the energy to turn over and face Aleks, perched in a chair with eyes trained on james, before quickly being stopped by the man in question, “careful, James, don't move too much…”
He huffs, rolling his eyes tiredly and studying Aleks closer, “what happened to your face..?”
Aleks stiffens before shaking his head, James can see the lie forming on his tongue like iron melting against the flames, “nothing, a little slip up in the kitchen,” he nods to the covered bowl on the bedside table, steam leaking from the sides slightly, “soup. Minestrone.”
James furrows his brows lightly in confusion, eyes lidded, before remembering their earlier conversation in bits and pieces; he covers his face slightly, huffing softly and shaking his head, “oh my god, thats… Jeez…” he blushes more at the soft chuckle that escapes Aleks.
“It’s fine. I hope high-on-pain-killers-james was right about your favourite soup, dude,” his tone is light and teasing, but james recognises the fear and warmth in those brown eyes he’s become so used to seeing - whether it’s when they wake up together after a drunk and messy rutt, or after a job when the adrenaline is running high and they look at each other in the back of the van, guns clutched tight in their hands and smiles wide and blinding.
“Y-yeah, uh… yeah. Thanks.”
Aleks’ smile is warm, and the hand on James’ forearm is gentle, touch fleeting, “no worries, dude.”
---
The third time. James’ phone is ringing, it has been for a few minutes now. James knows who’s calling, but he desperately doesn't want to answer out of fear that someone’s bugged his phone and it’ll explode as soon as he answers (although that isn't really possible without some sort of betrayal, but due to the caller he suspects one of the crew members might be easily swayed), or maybe the caller is about to take someone away from him. He sighs out in relief when the ringtone stops - it’s a low quality recording of London Calling with minimal chatter in the background and glasses knocking against a pub counter, rather grating to the ears - and relaxes back in his chair; his hands rest flat against the cold wood of his desk before curling sharply into fists when the ringtone starts up again, phone sliding along the glossy surface with each vibration.
Gritting his teeth, James picks up the phone and taps at the screen, putting the caller on speaker and leaning his elbow against the edge of the desk as he balances the phone on his palm (its rather dramatic, but who would James be without a little drama?), “hello?”
“Nova, love, i've been tryin’ to get through to you for ages,” Gavin’s british lilt rings out, tinny and sharp with slight undercurrents of humour, “you been ignorin’ me?”
“I’ve been busy,” James replies, curt. He sits back a little more in his seat and spins himself in tight semi-circles on the balls of his feet.
“I can see you, y’know. You’re not doing anything,” James looks up at the camera in the corner of the room and flips it off, “rude.”
“What do you want, G?”
“I need to cash in a favour,” the humour leaves Gavin’s voice, James can hear him shifting and recognises the purr of an engine in the background as well as fingers on a keyboard - possibly a laptop, “I'm in a bit of a tight spot.”
“You haven't done anything for me to warrant a favour,” James tries to keep his tone casual considering who he’s talking to, but he’s too used to having that fear of the Fakes so he can't help but slip into his business persona.
“James,” Gavin’s voice is a little sharp now, “if you do this you can ask for whatever the fuck you want.”
He rolls his eyes, sighing out tiredly as he stares up at the camera, “what’s the favour?”
“I need you to send Aleks over to us in LS for a bit.”
James doesn't reply. He flushes a little as he looks away from the camera before tapping the nails of his free hand against the desk. James desperately wants to speak his mind, defend aleks’ honour and say he’s not a product, he's not a weapon, you can't toss him between the two of us and expect him to answer to your beck and call .
Instead, he reels himself in, “I mean, it’s not really my choice. Call him and ask.”
“You’re his boss, Nova, you’d call Geoff if you needed one of the Fakes.”
James laughs sharply, sitting up and stopping his spinning, “I most certainly would not ,” he brings the phone a little closer as the signal changes on Gavin’s side, “and I'm not his boss, we’re still on the trial year.”
“You gonna send him back after this?” Gavin’s voice is… strange, a weird layer of hope over anger and confusion, “he doing a bad job?”
“You say that like he’s a product.”
“If you're gonna call this a trial , then, yeah. You’ve made it pretty clear he’s a product.”
James sighs out, rubbing his temples with both hands after he settles the phone on the desk, “he’s not a product, you and I both know that.”
“If he’s not a product, or an asset, what is he to you?”
“He’s…” James falters, furrowing his brows and squinting slightly. He waits a few moments before shaking his head, tugging his hair from the bun, “we’re getting off topic. It’s his choice if he wants to go.”
“You didn't answer my question,” James looks up as the door opens and aleks steps in, pausing with one foot over the threshold, James takes the phone off of speaker and brings it to his ear, “what is he to you?”
“I have to go now, G,” James puts a finger up to aleks to tell him to wait as he dodges the question again, “talk later.”
Gavin hms noncommittally, “I’ll call again soon, Nova.” the call ends.
James watches as Aleks takes a seat, swinging his feet up onto the desk with a casual smirk, “what was that all about, James? You getting in Gavin’s bad books?” he crosses his arms; James watches as his v-neck creases slightly and his collarbone is exposed, a bruise with slight teeth marks fading close to the middle of his chest.
“He wanted to take you along for a job or somethin’,” James stands, walking over to the camera and hesitating before putting a few strips of duct tape over the lense; he taps the mark on Aleks’ chest as he passes, “cover this up, dude.”
“Did you tell him I'm doing this next job with you?” he ignores James, shifting in his seat. James can't help but think he’s exposing more of his skin on purpose, probably to distract him.
James sighs out soft, “no, just said he should call you since you’re your own person.”
James meets Aleks’ eyes and chews his lip. He can't help but notice how aleks’ face softens a little before he looks away quickly. James sighs again, sitting back and reaching for a discarded mug to the side of the keyboard. he sniffs it and grimaces, setting it back down when he notices the strange looking surface. Gross.
“That’s…” he looks back up as aleks talks, “yeah. That’s… thanks. Thank you.”
James raises a brow and smirks, “what, for giving you a choice or trying to prove to Gavin you’re a person?”
Aleks snorts soft, taking his feet down off the desk, “he’s not like that all the time, he’s still worried about me being far away,” he shrugs, rolling his eyes. He takes his phone out when it buzzes - no ringtones, it’s a new phone since aleks’ last one got trashed when he got drunk last - and raises a brow before answering; James doesn't say anything when he puts it on speaker, laying it on the desk and looking up to James with a small smirk, “Gavin? What’s up?”
“‘Leksi, hon,” Gavin’s voice is much brighter now, the smile practically shining through the phone, “how are you? Is LA treating you good, love?”
Aleks laughs fondly, “yeah, Gav, it hasn’t changed since you last asked.”
There’s a soft sigh, “I know, but i worry. You know I do,” aleks smiles a little, “how are your friends, Jackson and Tom?”
James smirks at that, covering his mouth to hide a laugh, “Jakob and Trevor, Gav. They’re good, Trevor got a cat.”
“That’s nice,” Gavin clears his throat slightly, “just a couple more months and you’ll be back home finally. Maybe you wanna come for a visit? Lil J got a new motorbike and i need my favourite guy to help me key it up.” Gavin laughs sweetly.
James frowns slightly, furrowing his brows at Aleks and tilting his head back as he looks down at him, processing the words. It’s already been decided that aleks is going back to Los Santos?
Aleks sighs a little, raising a brow, “yeah, maybe…”
“Perfect! Geoff’s really missing you, and don't tell Rye-bread i told you but he’s been miserable without you, maybe we can all do a job together- we have one scheduled next week, love, and it would be great if you could come help!” Gavin continues to ramble, his joy clear.
Aleks frowns soft, looking to James as he listens. James doesn't let his face betray him, keeping it neutral as he relaxes, picking his phone up idly and fiddling with the case - it’s a new case, for once. Aleks bought it for him a few weeks ago as a joke and he hasn’t actually taken it off since, despite the fact that there’s a rather childish pug with a unicorn headband. He rubs his thumb along the pug’s face before putting his phone back down.
“Gavin,” Aleks tries to cut in, but the brit keeps talking. James raises a brow in confusion as aleks frowns and whispers something sharp, it’s Russian and its unfamiliar (it sounds a little bit like
slush rat
, weird), but it seems to do the trick since Gavin goes silent, “Gav, i- uh… i can't.”
“You can't? Why?” the worry in Gavin’s tone is evident, ”is James treating you okay, love? Do I need to step in?”
Aleks laughs weak, “no, james is treating me really good, he’s super nice,” James blushes as Aleks looks up at him and smiles so earnestly that his heart skips a beat, “but... I have a job next week. I can't come over…”
Its silent for a few moments before Gavin processes what Aleks says, “oh… Are you sure? Is it vital you go? I'm sure your team can handle it alone.”
“Gavin,” Aleks’ tone is firm but hesitant, “I…” he makes eye contact with james, “this is my crew. Sure, they can handle it without me but… it wouldn't be right. I wanna do this job with them.”
The car in the background has disappeared, James idly hopes someone else was driving while Gavin speaks with Aleks but he also dreads the idea of them hearing both conversations, “oh.”
“Yeah- uh… i'm sorry.”
“No, don't be, it’s fine,” a door opens and slams shut, “I'm… I'm proud. You’ve come a long way. Tell me if James gives you a hard time at all, yeah? I gotta go, love.”
“Okay,” Aleks smiles tiredly, “talk soon.” he hangs up, turning his phone over on the table and looking up at James sheepishly.
James smiles.
---
The fourth time is a little more tiring than the rest. James is sat in the open floor of the warehouse, on the floor with a map in front of him and an assault rifle abandoned next to him. He’s just gotten back from a job, they’re planning for a rather large heist and they need a few extra supplies, but the next part of the job needs more planning immediately . It’s exhausting, james is running on steam, but he’d rather do it himself than pass it off to Jakob or Asher to plan.
(God forbid they have a repeat of that fucking car jacking job, Jakob still hasn’t gotten out of counting stock as punishment for that.)
There’s a blood splatter on his cheek, not his own, but the way it’s drying and becoming sticky, tangled in his beard, is a little gross. He traces the tips of his middle and index finger along the tacky streak, grimacing at the way it catches slightly under his nail and peels. It hurts, but he doesn't have the energy to get up and wash himself off.
He’s sitting on the floor because it’s hot , the sun is long gone but the concrete outside and the thick, insulated walls of the warehouse have trapped a little too much heat; he’s sweating, still in the black jeans from the job but his usual black sweater has been traded for a graphic tee. It sticks uncomfortably to his back where beads of sweat are slowly making their way down his tanned skin.
He doesn't notice the door to the warehouse opening and closing, but he’s made painfully aware of it when Aleks sinks down ‘gracefully’ to the floor next to him. He shoves a drink into James’ hands - it’s an iced coffee, the Starbucks logo glistening with condensation - and James looks up with raised brows.
“Drink.”
Aleks’ bluntness doesn't shock james, he’s usually like this after jobs, all bark and half-assed bite. The adrenaline tires him out, James is intimate with the way it does this, having carted him home countless times in the ten months they’ve been working together. They’d been working separately that day, Aleks joyriding with Trevor and Lindsey to cause trouble and rob some stores and distract the cops while James, Asher, Anna and Brett hit a jewellery store. There’s still some soot on his cheek, grey and shockingly clear against Aleks’ pale skin (James wonders if something went wrong, he’s never been so pale).
James sets the cup down, ice rattling against the plastic sides, and doesn't hesitate before reaching across and brushing his slightly damp thumb against the ash, wiping some of it away. He’s always been a little more tactile after jobs, craving the closeness of skin on skin, knowing he’s not alone and the people he care about ( Aleks is the first name that comes to mind, glaringly obvious like a neon sign in the dark) are okay.
(Sometimes, in the stronger moments of craving and - as much as he doesn't want to admit it - vulnerability , he craves the way they touch in a different way. He loves how Aleks presses close to him and makes him feel a little more whole, a little safer in the dark. He loves the stretch, the push and pull, the way they give and take between the two of them, but… sometimes, it isn't enough.
He wants to surround Aleks, help with his anxiety and ground him, soothe him in a way that weed and alcohol and the secret pills just can't . He’s a little too eager for the idea, but Aleks isn't ready. James has never asked, he feels like it may be a sensitive subject, but Aleks has made it glaringly obvious that it’s something he's never done and he's not comfortable with, not yet.)
Aleks leans a little into his touch, James can tell that he might be a little shell-shocked from the job by the way his jaw is a little too tight, teeth clenched hard; he doesn't mention it. He just finishes wiping at the smudges of ash before turning back to the map on the floor in front of him. There’s a few other things scattered around; a box of bullets with half of the contents spread on the floor, some photos of the main area they’re going to be heisting (a business tower with a few corrupt members and a rather large set of safes in the basement), a few sheets of paper with scribbles on and a set of blueprints. He picks up a pen and crosses out a handful of convenience stores.
Aleks sits quietly. Its strange, James has never known aleks to be quiet . He wants loud, he wants the comfort of noise, but he stays quiet. He sips from his drink and closes his eyes, humming soft at the refreshing cold.
“Hey,” Aleks cuts into the silence eventually, running the tip of his index finger along the rim of his cup, “wanna come over to mine?”
James feels like he can sense the proposition - they usually do their thing at Aleks’ place since that’s where their
equipment
is, where Aleks is most comfortable sleeping and where James can let himself relax and forget about things - and he sighs tiredly, “Aleks, i've got a ton of shit to do and I
really
don't think I have the energy-”
“No- uh… I wasn't gonna… I didn't mean for sex,” Aleks shuffles a little closer, bumping their shoulders together lightly, “I'm not really in the mood, either. I was just hoping we could, y’know… hang out? I mean, I just got a new couch and-”
“Yeah,” James looks to him as he interrupts, smiling tiredly, “yeah, dude. That sounds… that’s good.”
---
The fifth time, James is completely unprepared. They're celebrating the heist, all of them glad it’s finally over after weeks of intense work. Brett decides to take them all out on a pub crawl; Aleks is obviously in his element, socialising at the bar and laughing and smiling so bright and blinding that James has to take a moment for himself.
They’re on the third pub of the night, they’re all a little more than buzzed and the good mood isn't anywhere near over. Asher and Anna are talking animatedly, Trevor occasionally butting in with a stupid joke or two. Jakob’s sat with Lindsey and Brett, but he’s more focused on his drink than the conversation. Lindsey’s laughing bright and happy and Brett’s staring at her like she’s the moon and stars, as if she put the sun in the sky and gave them the gift of warmth after centuries in the cold.
It’s sickeningly sweet. James buys another jack and coke.
He can hear Aleks’ laughter somewhere to his right, he’s surrounded by a small group of people. He’s always demanded respect with his presence, taking control of a situation simply by walking into the room, and obviously it translates to being the life of the party when they go out drinking.
The mindless chatter distracts him, and it’s a godsend. He’s been thinking about the call with Gavin months ago, that one question he asked.
What is he to you?
He’s a friend. It’s the first thing that comes to mind, but it feels bitter in his mouth. Saying that they’re friends aloud feels like chewing razor blades, drinking acid, running his tongue along a cheese grater.
Friends with benefits? It suits them, but it still doesn't fit right. It’s a thick sweater in the middle of August, or a pair of shoes that’s a little too small. It’s bearable, but it isn't right. He tilts his head to the side, sipping his drink before shaking his head out like an etch ’n’ sketch. He doesn't really know what he wants.
There’s a tap on his shoulder, jerking him from his mind harshly, “hey, there.” James looks up and raises his brows.
The man is definitely above average. He’s tall, a little taller than James, and he’s got dark skin that shines a little in the light. He’s got short dreads, tied back into a messy bun with a few loose around his face. He’s young, eyes still holding that beginning of college mirth, fresh out of the family house and not fully grasping the responsibilities of being independent just yet. The silver nose ring shines in the light, james spies a tattoo peeking out on his shoulder from under his hoodie.
“Hey,” James isn't unfriendly, but he isn't forcing a happy persona either. If this guy really wants to hook up, he can deal with the sour mood.
“You look pretty lonely, thought i’d come save you from potential alcohol poisoning and introduce myself,” the man sits down next to James, leaving a little space but staying close, James appreciates that as well as the humour, “the name’s Nick.”
James grins a little, tilting his head and tapping his fingers against his glass, “James. I appreciate that,” James isn't usually one for hookups, but the guy’s definitely good looking and he’s pretty nice. He knocks their knees together idly and tilts his head, “can I buy you a drink?”
Nick laughs, it’s low and warm and james finds himself wanting to hear more of it, “you know what? Yeah.” James slides a ten dollar note across the counter and buys a drink. He keeps it fruity, not too alcoholic since he wants to be able to talk to Nick a little more.
It continues on like that for a while. Talking and laughing happily, buying each other drinks until they're pressed shoulder to shoulder, sharing each other’s warmth and occasionally knocking their feet together. James doesn't notice the subtle looks from Brett, questioning but hopeful, or the way that the crowd to his right slowly dissipates and reveals a scowling Aleks, fingers curled tight around his glass to the point where he might have to pay extra to replace it.
They shift a little closer once more, one of Nick’s dreads brushes the side of his face and he shudders, laughing soft and gently moving it out of the way. They look at each other, eyes catching for a moment, they start to lean in-
A hand slams onto the counter between them, a tattooed arm that james instantly recognises as Aleks’ forcing some space between them with a little too much force. James looks up to shout, to argue, to push Aleks away and say hey, i'm trying to forget about your dumb ass . But he can't. He gets distracted by the angry flush on his cheeks, the dark look in his eye and the way his hand instantly tightens into a fist on the counter.
“Sorry,” Aleks’ voice cuts through the awkward silence like a knife, but he doesn't really sound all that sorry, “this one’s taken.”
James scoffs, frowning heavy. That provokes him, “hey, ‘this one’ isn't a fucking prized cow.”
Nick seems to come back to himself pretty quickly after that, nodding and frowning heavy, “yeah, dude. Not chill.”
“ Not chill ,” aleks laughs cruelly, “you sound like a fucking child, you sure you’re allowed to be in this place?” Aleks moves his hand from the bar to James’ shoulder, curling his fingers and gripping possessively, sinking his talons in.
“Aleks, just back off, dude.”
Nick bristles at the accusation of being young, and that’s when James realises he's probably too young to be drinking, “hey, dude, I understand that you're jealous, probably kicked to the curb by James here, but there’s no need to get in the way of me hooking up with him.”
James flushes bright, narrowing his eyes and looking to the floor. The way they're talking about him makes him feel like an object, its making him a little uncomfortable. He picks up his drink and his jacket, standing up and walking over to Brett’s table. He’d rather hang out with lovesick fools than listen to Aleks talk about him like he’s not even there.
He continues drinking, ordering a few more drinks and doing his best to ignore the fleeting touches Lindsey and Brett are sharing under the table (they're so handsy , Brett’s touching all along her inner thigh and his face is pressed against her shoulder, beard scratching at the exposed skin of her neck and back, and she looks like she’s in heaven; she's got his forearm in a death grip and she's shifting a little closer every few seconds and gross this is like watching his parents have sex) while also drowning his sorrows.
In the corner of his eye, James watches Nick leave with a group of equally young boys, a new girl hanging off his arm. He rolls his eyes and looks down into his glass, huffing at the small pool left behind before ordering another, skipping out on the coke this time around. He calls the lady that took his order back over when he hears Lindsey let out a mewl and asks to switch his drink for a gin and tonic, no lemon.
Once he has his drink, he migrates to a new table. The seat is uncomfortably warm, and there’s crumbs scattered on the table top, but he doesn't really complain. He drinks and winces, rolling his shoulders and sighing out.
Eventually, Aleks makes his way over to the table, sitting down like he owns the place and casually slinging an arm behind James’ seat. He stiffens, drinking more of the clear drink before looking away. His eyes slide half shut, he’s pleasantly drunk and he wants to keep it that way, he doesn't want to fist fight Aleks in the middle of the pub.
He shudders when Aleks gently drags his fingers through the curls that hang loose from his bun, tangling in the corkscrews and tugging slightly before letting them bounce away, his voice is soft and slightly accented when he talks, “look at me.”
James relents easily, leaning into the touch of Aleks’ pinkie brushing against the back of his neck as he turns to face aleks with a soft mhm? noise.
“M’sorry if i upset you,” Aleks’ voice is soft and soothing in the loud pub, ocean waves lapping at the rocks compared to the violent torrents in the middle of a storm, “I just… i didn't like seeing you with him. I want you to be mine…” his fingers tighten against the back of his neck, grip possessive.
James grins a little, sighing and shrugging, “s’fine, but you owe me.”
Aleks may be a calm ocean, but the dangerous riptides are rapidly dragging james under.
---
Now, apparently, it’s James’ turn.
James doesn't want to admit that fact, though. He’s too stubborn, he's not willing to associate that four letter word with Aleks, not yet . Their line of work, if you can call it that, is too risky. Too dangerous. If you fall in love, you gain one extra weakness, one extra loose thread for someone to tug at and unravel everything. James has worked too hard at this for everything to be ruined so quickly.
But he just can't help himself. So when he sees Aleks eyeing up that beautiful bracelet in the jewellery store (a pink-ish gold herringbone chain with a tongue and box style fastener. There’s a delicate chain of the same metal on each side of the thick chain, the bottom one having a carefully carved heart pendant. it glistens so pretty in the sunlight, james can't help but glance briefly at it too, but he looks away when he sees the sickening $9500 price tag), stood stock still in the middle of the street, he can't help but quickly snap a picture of the storefront - if it has a snippet of Aleks’ wide eyes and bright smile in the corner, he’ll take that fact to the grave.
“Dude,” James nudges Aleks’ shoulder gently, raising a brow after a few moments, “what the fuck’re you staring at? It’s just a tacky band, chill out…” he knocks their shoulders together, raising his brows further when aleks ignores him. He gives it a few more seconds before pinching Aleks’ bicep.
“Hey, dude, quit it…” Aleks slaps his hand away, wincing as he covers the area, “it’s not fuckin
tacky
, it’s pretty.”
James rolls his eyes, “sure, whatever, but we’re in the middle of goin’ somewhere, man. Focus.”
Aleks nods, shooting one more lingering look at the bracelet before following James down the street, hands shoved into his pockets.
James doesn't really know how he finds himself back at the jewellery store a few weeks later. He’s a little drunk, a job went wrong and they're all a little frustrated with each other, maybe they even blame each other. James is too bruised and upset to really deal with Brett’s whining or Jakob’s worried looks. He walks idly through the street, the LA sky dark with clouds and an uncomfortable humidity settling over everything; he regrets wearing his hoodie now, the horrible takiness of sweat causing his tee to stick to his skin uncomfortably.
Rain begins to fall, a horrible, foggy drizzle that really doesn't help with the heat - he suddenly feels a sickening sort of nostalgia for the heavy rain that would pour violently in Colorado, the heavy downpours that would soak every inch of his being in such a satisfying way that he couldn't help but sit in it for hours. He slides under the awning of a nearby storefront, shoving his hands into his pockets and hopping from foot to foot - he knows the rain will pass quickly, it never stays for long, so he decides to just wait it out.
He sees the bracelet pretty soon after, glittering in the corner of his eye despite the lack of sun, calling to him like a siren on the coast. James picks at his nails in his pockets idly, frowning as he stares at it before widening his eyes when a set of slim, pale hands reach into the display and remove it. The person walks away and slips it into a box, handing it to a portly man with a standard customer-service smile and the usual have a nice day!
James doesn't know why he does it (deep down, he probably does, but denial runs in his blood), but when the man leaves the store he decides to follow. He sticks to the fabric roofs of the shops along the street, avoiding the small puddles that begin to collect in the dips of the pavement and the gutters that lead into the main road. The man walks with a skip in his step and a kind smile, swinging his arm happily. In the back of his mind, James knows he should feel bad, but he doesn't.
Instead, once they get to a more secluded area, James presses the man against a brick wall in a dark alley, the alley smells acidic and wet, like moss in a forest. He presses his forearm against the man’s neck to keep him pinned, pushing two of his fingers of his other hand against the man’s soft stomach - he doesn't have his gun on him currently, but confidence is key.
The man lets out an embarrassing whimper, eyes wide as he puts his hands up, “p-please, holy shit- uh- i-i’ll do whatever you want!”
James grunts, pushing his fingers against him harder before shifting his arm, “drop that bag, the one from the store you just left. Walk away slow or i’ll fuckin’ cap you,” he’s never really said cap before, but he feels like adhering to a shitty gangster-movie stereotype might help his case.
“Okay, okay! I-i’ll drop it!” apparently the vocabulary really does help, he keeps that in mind for the next time he has to mug someone like this. The man drops the bag to the floor, eyes wide and panicked to the point where James thinks he can see tears. He steps away from the man slowly, watching him carefully as he stumbles out of the alleyway and does his best to walk normally before sprinting off down the street.
James sighs out tiredly, picking up the bag and taking out the box from inside. He opens it carefully, staring at the bracelet inside. It’s elegant, but somehow sturdy and strong at the same time. James quickly makes his way to aleks’ apartment, he sticks out like a sore thumb in this area of the city so he doesn't linger long. He goes to Aleks’ door and knocks before dropping the bag on the floor and walking away quickly, hood pulled over his head and arms wrapped tight around his body. He ignores the voice that calls out for him, returning to an empty home to lick his wounds.