As he waits for Max to arrive, Atreus spends his free time trying to make his apartment a bit more presentable by making a last minute effort to clean up, which is a short, painless task thanks to his already fairly consistent tidiness. The lack of any chores to sink precious seconds into causes him to simply sit back down on his sofa and anxiously look at his phone and count the minutes that pass.
After just over fifteen minutes since the invitation was accepted, the familiar sound of the doorbell is heard again. He starts to look around his apartment in a slight panic and realizes that the lack of background noise might give too much leeway for awkward silences. Without giving any heed to the idea that he might be overthinking things, he quickly turns on his television, which is playing a random movie he was supposedly watching at some point prior, and turns the volume down just enough to allow for a person's speaking voice to be heard over it. He feels almost childish in his overdone preparation, but can't dwell on it too much now that the anticipated guest is here.
Atreus walks to his front door and looks through the peephole, finding Max standing on the veranda in a red hoodie, ripped black jeans, and black and white sneakers – a casual, everyday look he doesn't see her in very often due to mostly being around her at work. She has her hands clasped together in front her; it makes her look somewhat nervous, as well. Atreus takes a final deep breath and opens the door.
“Hey, you got here really quick,” he opens by voicing his pleasant surprise.
“Yeah, I didn't want to waste time,” she responds with a smile. “The night's not so young. Well, I guess it kinda is for me, since I don't go to bed until the sun is rising.”
“Well, I don't feel like I'll be sleeping anytime soon, myself, so I figured it'd be nice to have some company. Come on in.” Atreus steps aside and beckons her into the apartment.
Max walks in with some pep in her step, making little effort to hide her interest. She looks around the entire studio apartment with attentive eyes and seems somewhat amazed at her surroundings.
“This is respectably roomy for one person, especially compared to my cupboard,” she remarks as she steps into the living room proper. “And I gotta say, it's a lot cleaner than I thought it would be.”
“Were you hoping I'd be messy or something?”
“Probably,” she admits as a wry smile crosses her face. “If you turned out to be hoarder or something, I'd at least feel better about myself.”
“I'll remember to keep my overflowing garbage bin out for you next time, then. Have a seat anywhere, by the way. You want something to drink?” Atreus asks as he steps into the kitchen, expecting a request of some sort.
“Do you have any alcohol?” she inquires as she sits on the edge of the bed.
“I have vodka; I'm not much of a beer drinker when I'm alone. I can mix it with orange juice, if you'd like.”
“Yeah, I'd like that,” she answers with a nod. “You know, sometimes I wish I was allowed to drink at Crown. It'd really take the edge off sometimes and help me deal with some people better.”
“Well, labor laws don't want hosts and hostesses killing themselves by downing liquor for the entirety of their shifts,” Atreus replies as he roams around his kitchen to prepare the mixed drinks. “Would you really want to work there if customers forced you to drink for eight straight hours?”
“I suppose not. But if my degree got me the job I wanted, I wouldn't be working there to begin with. Not that I dislike Crown or the whole hosting scene – especially since it's safer here than in Japan, or so I've heard – but sometimes I just think about how it's not what I studied six years for,” Max laments her career prospects, causing her to grow dispirited. She stares at the television blankly, not actually watching what's on it.
“Not that I'm trying to insult your degree or anything, but...” Atreus begins a new question as he approaches her with a glass of vodka and OJ in each hand, extending his arm out to offer her one, which she accepts. “Does it... feel like a waste now?” he asks with some hesitance, hoping to not come off as condescending or judgmental.
Max gives a self-deprecating chuckle. “I threw myself into a bottomless pit of debt for a degree I'm not even taking advantage of. Of course it feels like a fucking waste.” She takes a gulp of her drink, making almost half of it disappear into her stomach instantly.
“Well, if it's any consolation, I think you do a good job at Crown,” Atreus comments, trying to salvage the conversation after realizing it's heading into a melancholic direction. “The customers who are around you seem to really enjoy your company.”
“Thanks. I try to make the best out of things.” She stares down into her drink, reflecting on her job momentarily. “I never mentioned this to anyone at the club yet, but since you're leaving this week, I figure it's worth letting you know that I'm applying to different companies again.”
“Really? Like who?” Atreus asks while sitting next to her on the bed.
“Fritz and Atmos, mostly. But I'm throwing some stuff out to computer hardware companies, too. Even Zanvus again. I'm not lying about my qualifications this time, either,” she punctuates with a playful wag of her finger.
“That's good to hear. I hope you pull through this time. I imagine the wait for a response to your applications might be a hell of a long time, though.”
“Yeah, even Zanvus took like a month to respond to me before I worked there the first time. And the interview was almost four hours long. Crown is a nice place and everyone treats me well there, but it's just not something I want to do for the rest of my life.”
“Yeah. I'd do the same,” Atreus gives a sympathetic comment as he sips his own drink.
Max glances at his charcoal matte black limbs. “You mind if I ask you something personal? Again?” she timidly inquires.
“What is it?”
“How exactly did you lose your arms?”
“Oh.” Atreus instinctively looks down at his limbs, too. “I guess I never really told you the whole story the last time you asked.”
“You don't have to if you don't want to.”
“No, it's fine. I'm comfortable with talking about it.” The gangster relaxes his arms and takes a deep breath. “So, you remember hearing about the attack in front of the Kawada Tower two years ago? By some Blue Star members from Jeonju?”
Max nods. “Yeah. You were there?”
“Yeah. It was the Sanada-gumi chairman's birthday, and he booked a ballroom for a party. Word of this got around, and some rogue Blue Star members showed up in black cars and attacked us as the chairman was walking into the building. Bullets were flying everywhere.” Atreus stares blankly ahead as he recollects his experience. “I was following my family leader around to safety, and we ended up near the chairman and senior advisor, huddled behind a car. We tried to wait it out, and bodies from both sides were hitting the ground around us.”
“Jesus. I saw pictures of the aftermath, but... It really sounded like a warzone.”
“It definitely was. Not just because of gunshots, either. While the four of us were waiting for the chaos to die down, a grenade rolled next to us.”
“A grenade?” Max echoes, reeling back in shock. “They had grenades, too?”
“The Blue Star had an extremely extensive selection of black market weapons back then; more so than they do now,” Atreus states matter-of-factly. “So, after the grenade rolled by, my instincts just kicked into gear, and I grabbed the dead body of a Blue Star member that was next to us, threw him on top of it, then threw myself on too, with my arms curled up against my chest.” Atreus mimics the posture he had then by folding his arm against his torso, with his closed hands against his collar bones and forearms crossed over his chest.
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“You leapt onto a grenade?” she echoes again, as if saying to herself to make it sound more believable. “Why didn't you just throw it somewhere?”
“Too many people running around,” he answers with an apathetic shrug. “Worst case, I'd probably accidentally kill other Sanada-gumi members if I did that. So, covering it seemed like a better alternative. I guess I could've thrown it into an empty car or something, but I was clearly not thinking straight in such a dire situation.”
“Yeah, I guess I can't blame you. So... I assume the grenade went off and, well, those happened?” she asks, pointing to his arms.
“Pretty much. The grenade went off, and the dead guy under me basically turned into soup, and my arms became shredded by the shards. I have some small scars on my chest and stomach, too. Thankfully my head went mostly unscathed. I lost consciousness immediately, and the next thing I remember, I was in the hospital, with my prosthetics already attached to me.”
“That's... rough.” Max furrows her brow upward into a sympathetic gaze. With the hand not holding her glass, she places her fingers on his forearm and caresses it. “How did you react when you realized you lost your arms?”
“I was pretty shocked initially, then realized I should probably count my blessings, considering I survived a grenade, of all things. I could've lost a hell of a lot more than just a couple limbs. I was close to dying from the blood loss, and apparently, my arms were so wrecked, that even if they were to heal, the damage to my muscles and tendons would never allow for decent motor functions ever again, so they decided to just get rid of them. The physical therapy to get used to using my prosthetics was a bit tough, though. Even after I was allowed to return home, I crushed a lot of glasses because I couldn't control their strength consistently.” He looks down at her hand on his arm, quietly wishing he could have better sense of touch on his prosthetics than his imperfect haptic feedback.
“How'd your everyday life change afterward?” she asks, showing sincere interest in his story.
“Well, I got treated differently by other Sanada-gumi members. The chairman and senior advisor spared no expense making me look like a hero who saved their lives,” Atreus carefully thinks on his next words, hoping he doesn't sound boastful. “I developed a... big reputation among the entire clan. For a long while, people treated me like royalty.” He narrows his eyes and curls his mouth into a small frown, showing disapproval in his sudden boost in status. “It was kinda weird, being treated with so much reverence even though I was almost a nobody before the incident.”
“Had you ever experienced any type of violence like that beforehand?”
“Not in the slightest,” he answers immediately. “That was the first time I was anywhere near guns that were fired with the intent of killing another human being. In hindsight, I'm pretty shocked I survived, and I'm not talking about the whole grenade thing; I mean in general. But there's one thing I always regretted about that day.”
“What is it?” Max brings her head closer, hanging on his every word, and showing only the most dedicated attentiveness.
“Since the attack happened before the party even began,” Atreus replies as a sullen, heartbroken expression washes over his face, “I was never able to eat any of the catering, which I heard was insanely expensive.” He turns to direct his somber eyes to Max, but after a pause, his lips curl into a smile.
“You're such a fucking dork!” Max, both amused and slightly offended that her emotions were manipulated, playfully shoves him away from her. “God, you had me so invested and everything. You're such an asshole.”
“Hey, it's true,” he confesses under his stifled chuckle. “I heard there was enough food to feed like a thousand guys for the entire day. It was all really high-class stuff, too – food from rich, five-star restaurants I would almost never go to because it'd be a month's rent. I guess you could say they'd cost an arm or two,” he cracks another joke, undoing the tension established by the tale of how he lost his limbs.
“God, you're so...” Max heaves a sigh instead of finishing her sentence, but the smirk still present on her face shows she's not truly upset.
“I was given the option to get synthetic skin,” Atreus continues, lifting his arms and turning his forearms to examine them close up. “But I refused, thinking it would help me get used to them faster. I thought that getting synthetic skin was like being in denial of having prosthetics. It made me wonder how many body parts I could replace before I could no longer be considered human anymore...”
“I hear it's pretty common for people to become existential like that when they receive large prosthetics like yours. But either way,” Max interjects, placing her hand across his arms again, this time to push them down to his legs instead of caress them, “you're still very human to me.” She moves her face closer to his and gives a reassuring smile.
For a moment, Atreus finds his eyes drawn down to Max's lips. He recalls the soft sensation of them pressing against his own at the end of their short date the other day. Though she was still inebriated at the time, she still had the wherewithal to steadfastly invite him over to her apartment, which he sadly had to refuse due to other obligations. However, with no such obstacles blocking either of them now, he feels less inclined to maintain composure.
Max, noticing the direction of his eyes, lowers her head, forcing his eyes to lock on to hers. She smiles slyly, fully aware of what he's thinking. She inches her face even closer to his, stopping only a hair's breadth short of contact. Atreus abandons any last thread of calmness, and initiates the kiss. The passionate exchange lasts several seconds, with both of them lost in a growing torrent of desire. However, Max's eyes open and she gently pushes him away.
“Wait,” she says, turning her head towards the wall that the head of the bed is pressed against. “I know this is a bad time to ask, but... Isn't Reiko next door?” she lowers her voice to a whisper and points to the aforementioned wall.
“Oh,” Atreus utters, having completely forgot about the fact that his ex lives next door to him. “We've been apart for a year and a half now. I don't think she'd be offended or anything; she's a pretty reasonable person,” he gives an honest answer, feeling Reiko is more than mature enough to react fairly if she found out.
“I guess I'm kinda worried that I'd be awkward around her at work,” Max shyly admits with an embarrassed rub of the side of her neck. “Isn't it a little odd that you and your ex... live next door to each other?”
“I can see why you'd think that, but no, not really,” Atreus bluntly answers. “Until I started working at Crown, our schedules were so different, that we'd go days – sometimes almost a month – without bumping into each other.”
“Good enough for me,” she readily accepts the explanation and leans in to resume the kiss, showing no diminishing fervor. Atreus finds it easy to reciprocate despite the interruption, too.
They gradually escalate, shifting their bodies to allow for easier physical contact. Max begins to caress his face, and Atreus places his hands on her hips and gently pulls her towards him. Again, she pulls her face away momentarily for a brief respite, trying to catch her breath for the approaching engagement.
“Hey,” she whispers softly, “can you show me your tattoo? The wolf?”
For an instant, Atreus is surprised at the request, but realizing the circumstances, he feels it'd be an appropriate time as any to oblige. He quietly stands up, facing his back to her, and pulls hit cotton shirt up by the collar, over his head, and off his body. Max's eyes widen at the intricate, colorful tattoo covering the entirety of his back: a black wolf, leaping upward with a vicious expression, over a rainbow of swirling flower petals, twisting flames, and plumes of smoke. There's barely a centimeter of untouched flesh to be found on him due to the sheer density of the tattoo.
“Wow,” Max utters, bewitched by the detailed piece of art on Atreus's back. She reaches forward to softly touch his skin with her fingers. “This definitely looks like a tattoo that took months to finish.”
“I can say with no hesitation that I got my money's worth,” Atreus proudly remarks. “I originally asked my horishi for a dragon, simply because it was a common, safe choice, but he's a very serious old guy who gives tattoos he believes fit the person's character. He decided that a wolf was more suitable for me. I'm still not totally sure why, but he insisted on it and drew up a draft that I really liked, and it became this.”
“Well, I think he has good judgment, because in some way, I feel like it suits you too,” she agrees, continuing her gentle strokes up his back, soon reaching the point where his shoulders turn from flesh to alloy.
Atreus suddenly turns around to finally look back at Max, revealing the front of his torso, and the the tiny scars that dot his lower stomach and the middle of his chest, mostly along his sternum. She's even more surprised at the number of scars than she was as the massive tattoo, but she continues to caress them just the same.
“There were a few shards still lodged into me that they had to remove,” he bluntly states while rubbing one of his scars. “Luckily my left forearm was blocking my heart, or I might not have made it.”
“Well, I'm glad you did,” Max comments in a soft voice as she clasps Atreus's wrists and pulls him towards her. He bends down to bring his face to hers, and the two continue their escalating physical engagement.
The late night continues on and they eventually find themselves huddled together, covered in nothing but the blanket that's brought up to their shoulders. The lights in the apartment are off, but the dark azure tint of the sun barely beginning its morning ascent becomes noticeable through the curtains. Atreus and Max are lying on their backs, their bodies angled slightly so that their heads and shoulders nearly graze each other as they quietly bask in their post-rendezvous glow.
“Can I ask you something?” Max is the first to break the meditative silence with a calm, timid voice, still staring at the ceiling.
“Yeah,” Atreus answers unconditionally.
“Which one of your parents named you 'Atreus'?”
“...My mom,” he answers after a short pause. “Apparently she liked Greek mythology a lot. There were a lot of books at home she didn't take with her when she left.”
Max doesn't respond verbally. Instead, she turns to adjust herself so that she can rest her head on Atreus's chest, and he reciprocates by wrapping his arm around her. Yet again, he stares at his synthetic hand caressing her skin, and silently wishes the sensation felt more real. The two soon drift to sleep as the sun continues to peek over the eastern horizon and the dark blues of the very early morning grow lighter