Baxter's Break

The ambient hum of the Hope Diamond Diner can be heard even out back, joining the thrum of cicadas and the gentle shushing of the wind in the warm summer night. Pixy only meant to stop by long enough to say hi to Baxter on his break, but he came out agitated, and only got more so the longer she stayed. Baxter’s angst doesn’t reach her. It never has. She almost finds comfort in his constant motion, like white noise. Still, she worries.

“You doing okay, livewire?” She leans casually against the back wall, her head lolling back to study Baxter as he continues to look around uncomfortably, and pick at the skin in the fold of his arms as he squeezes himself too tight for comfort.

“Mmm…” a low utterance is all she gets in return.

“Bax?”

Hearing his own name seems to startle him, and he looks over at Pixy for the first time in a few minutes. For a moment his mouth just hangs open until what he’s been holding back seems to escape while his guard is down, making him sputter to life like a stalling machine.

“I just don’t know how you can love someone like- someone like me!” Baxter’s voice is hoarse with tension, and stress causes perspiration to form on his skin, making him appear alien as it takes on the gleam of the Hope Diamond’s neon lights.

Pixy falters for a moment, her dark eyes wide and aglow, shaking her head gently before she can even find the words to speak.

“Of course I do. Of course I do,” as she approaches him he takes two steps back, and so she pauses and holds out her hands to gesture that she’ll accept him if and when he wants to come to her.

And he does. Of course he does.

His adam's apple bobs, and his mouth presses flat on his face several times as he tics, creasing it as his eyebrows furrow above his unusual eyes. He takes her hands, his shaking, using her to steady himself as he squeezes them very tightly. The knife nicks and scars on his fingers and knuckles shine silver in the darkness behind the diner.

Stillness does not find Baxter easily. He winces, jolts, and then eventually, leaning into Pixy as if to borrow strength from her, finally slows and speaks again.

“I’m… not a good person, Bunny,” he says, very quietly, his words wavering with effort “And… I… I guess I’ve been worrying about what’s going to happen if you ever realize that.”

“Is that what this is about?” Pixy speaks so very softly to Baxter, the corners of her mouth drawing up into a small smile which Baxter hangs his head to look away from “Jackrabbit, I don’t worry about that at all.”

“You don’t… you don’t even know me,” Baxter seems to be trying to convince her, half heartedly, though he means every word.

You should run. But don’t leave me.

“I do,” Pixy squeezes his hands back, and then guides one up to her mouth, pausing to make sure he can pull away should he need to, and kisses each of his fingers.

He shivers and cringes, looking away with an expression of pain.

“P-Pi… Pixy…” her name sounds like a plea in his mouth.

“Your past doesn’t define you, Baxter. Your actions do,” Pixy assures him, now bringing her palm to his face, and holding him tenderly as he continues to stare away in shame “You helped me get to know this city. Get to know you. You took care of me. Helped me when my car broke down, kept me company, invited me into your apartment and your life. You’re stronger than you know, and kinder than you think. You’ve shown me I’m safe with you. I don’t feel… safe anywhere else. That means something to me. I know I can trust you.”

“M… My actions?” Baxter’s eyes finally meet hers again.

“Mhm. That alleycat you rescued, the time we spend together, your work at the diner. Who you choose to be. Not who you were. Not how others see you,” Pixy’s gaze on him is as warm as her hand, and he shudders in response.

His lower eyelids draw up, and his lips part again as he seems to stumble over this concept. Again, he leans into her, seeming to find great comfort in her presence. His jaw twitches, and then he closes the distance, kissing her on the cheek. He lingers there, his eyes squeezing shut tightly, his pointed nose pressing into the side of her face. She lets herself lull into him, even as he starts to draw back, in the hopes of discouraging him from leaving. Seeming to realize her intent, Baxter ducks his head into her and lets himself catch his breath in her neck, breathing her in, and then kisses her again before pulling back to look at her with wet eyes and a strained smile.

“I should get back to work,” he doesn’t let go of Pixy, and he doesn’t move back any more than he already has.

“You should,” Pixy doesn’t step away either.

The two look at each other for a long while, the cicadas thrumming louder, until Pixy bursts into a laugh that seems to creep into Baxter, until they are both laughing together. Baxter’s strange, pitched whinny cuts clear through the night. Before she can hold him there any longer he kisses her again, on the lips this time, pulling her face in to his and holding it gently with both of his scarred hands. Then he darts back playfully to the door so she can’t rope him in to more kissing, and stops halfway through it to look at Pixy with a wide grin.

“I guess if you won’t go, you’ll just have to stick around and find out who’s right, huh, Bunny?”

“Good luck getting rid of me, Baxter Face. I’m stubborn,” Pixy cocks her head, smirking back at Baxter “And I don’t think I’m wrong about you.”

“If you say so, Bunny.”

He blows her a kiss, and disappears inside. At least she’ll stick around to find out, he thinks. And that makes him pretty damn lucky.