Chapter Text
Sunday mornings were always quiet in the shop.
The newsagents-come-grocery-store on the corner of King’s Road and Oakley Street opened at seven a.m. every single day of the week, but to be honest Josh wasn’t really sure why they bothered on Sundays. The only people who turned up before eleven were the pensioners, and they only ever bought the newspaper and a pint of milk. Not exactly the sort of stuff that paid the bills. But his dad was adamant - they were there for the community, blah blah blah.
Josh was fine with being there for the community, but he wasn’t sure why it always had to be him opening the shop every weekend. Especially when Fridays and Saturdays were always the nights he went out on the lash with the lads from school.
That was one good thing about a lack of customers, he supposed. No one cared if he was half-slumped over the counter nursing a hangover.
Last night had been a particularly heavy one. A complete riot - Ryan had thrown up all over the back of the taxi and they’d had to pile out and run off before the driver could catch them - but Josh was regretting the triple tequila shots now. The shop’s strip lighting was causing a sharp pain behind his eyes and, at seven-thirty on a December morning, it was still too dark to consider turning them off.
Josh comforted himself by resting his elbows on the counter and burying his head in his arms.
He might have been there for a minute or twenty. He was only roused when the bell above the shop door rang.
A customer. Swearing under his breath, Josh raised his head from his stupor, half-expecting to see a disapproving glare from a pensioner shuffling his way towards him, aiming for the papers in front of the till.
But whoever it was had already disappeared behind the shelves. Josh caught a glimpse of a tall figure with blond hair. They looked young-ish - maybe around Josh’s age - but he couldn’t really tell from here. Grimacing, he rubbed his eyes and rested his cheek on his hand, trying to look like he might be semi-alive.
He could already feel his eyelids drooping. He was so hungover -
Something was dumped on the counter in front of him and he forced his eyes open again. He saw baked beans. Bread. Butter. Milk (of course). The staples; nothing unusual.
“Shit,” he heard a voice say, and Josh looked up to see the blond man turning away. But it was too late. Even Josh’s slow, alcohol-soaked brain could recognise him at this distance.
“Alex? ”
The man Josh was sure was Alex Rider stopped. Turned with an obvious wince.
“Hi Josh.”
Josh gaped at him. He hadn’t seen Alex Rider since they were sixteen - since they’d left school. Josh and the lads sometimes talked about others at school, but no one had ever heard from Alex Rider. Someone reckoned he’d dropped out altogether after GCSEs, on account of the drugs; someone else thought he’d been home schooled and had gone to Oxbridge.
Right now, Josh thought the first one had got it right. Alex seemed to have aged a lot more than the five years that had passed since Josh had last seen him. His face was thin and pale; there seemed to be dark creases under his eyes that were even worse than Josh’s. And… Josh’s eyes settled on his throat. There were a lot of bruises on it. Finger-shaped bruises.
The thing was, Alex didn’t exactly look like a druggy - well, not the kind Josh was used to running into. Alex looked fit and reasonably alert (a lot more than Josh felt after last night, anyway) and he was buying milk and bread at seven-thirty on a Sunday morning.
Unbidden, Josh thought of the last time he’d seen bruises like that - back when Ryan had been seeing that bird from Fulham. He’d never pegged Alex as the type - but, then, he’d never pegged Ryan as the type, either so…
Josh realised he was staring. He straightened up from where he had been leaning on the counter. Before Alex had turned up, the last thing he’d felt like doing was talking, but he’d be the first to admit that working in a store had turned him into a bit of a gossip, and, anyway, the lads would kill him if he didn’t at least try to find out something about Alex Rider.
“How’s it going?” he asked. “Long time no see.”
“Yeah; it’s been a while.” Alex gave him a quick, thin smile, before nudging the bread closer to Josh: a clear cue to start ringing it. Josh ignored it.
“What’ve you been up to?” he asked keenly.
“Oh - er - ” Alex looked around, as if wondering - or maybe hoping - if there was someone waiting behind him. “Work, I guess? You?”
“Same.” Josh waved a hand at the shop. “Gonna take over Dad’s business one day.”
“Cool.” Alex lapsed into silence, his gaze dropping pointedly down to the counter again. Josh obliged by picking up the beans.
“So where do you work?” he asked. He was being deliberately slow, pretending to not be able to find the barcode on the can.
“Bank,” said Alex vaguely. “Same as my Uncle.”
“Oh?” Maybe Alex had gone to Oxbridge after all. “D’you have to go to uni for that?”
“Er - ” Alex frowned, staring at the beans, like he’d cottoned onto the fact that Josh was a lot more interested in asking questions than scanning his purchases. “Yeah,” Alex said after a few seconds, when Josh had finally flicked the barcode at the scanner and put the beans into a plastic bag. “Graduated last year. I’m on with them full time now.”
“Really? What’d you do?”
Alex shifted his weight in the way that all annoyed customers did. “I’m in their international department,” he said shortly. “Boring stuff.”
The door suddenly chimed. Alex tensed, glancing over his shoulder. He always had been jumpy, Josh remembered as he craned his neck to look past Alex’s shoulder at whom had come in.
It was Mr Ferris. Josh cursed under his breath as he saw the old man ambling into the shop. Ferris was an arsehole at best. At least this time Josh wouldn’t get a lecture about doing nothing. He picked up the butter and scanned it quickly anyway; he didn’t want to deal with the yelling that would come with him holding up the line.
“So what happened to your neck?” he asked Alex, realising he probably only had another minute or two before Mr Ferris approached the till and Alex ran off. “Things get a bit frisky with the missus, did they?”
He grinned, glancing up, but he didn’t get a response. Alex seemed distracted, studying some of the tabloids next to him. He seemed to catch on one and his face bloomed into a smile - a proper one; not the awkward half-grimace he’d flashed Josh earlier - as he added it to the stack on the counter. The Daily Mail . Josh couldn’t stop himself making a face. Honestly, he had expected Rider to be above that tripe. This was Chelsea, for Pete’s sake. Josh usually only sold the Mail to pinch-faced Ms McKaskill. He didn’t know why they kept it in stock; whatever his Dad said about it bringing customers into the store to get other things, the most Ms McKaskill ever splurged was 49p on ginger snaps.
“The Mail ?” He couldn’t keep the incredulous tone out of his voice.
“Hmm?” Alex was still searching the side panel, palming a bag of gummy bears.
“The Daily Mail,” Josh pressed, taking the bag and wondering if Alex was slow after all. “Wouldn’t picture you as the type.”
“Oh.” Alex’s grin widened; he met Josh’s eyes for the first time. “They’re the only news source I trust. Everyone else is just government rubbish.” He sounded almost proud.
It took Josh a second to process that. Alex Rider , who apparently had a degree and job in banking, only read the Daily Mail and reckoned it was the only trustworthy newspaper . There’d always been something weird about him, Josh thought, but he was starting to wonder if Alex was a bit more fucked up than any of them had realised. He hurried through scanning it and laid on top of the shopping bag.
Alex had already laid a twenty on the counter and was reaching for the bag, ready to leave.
“Don’t you want your change?” Josh asked.
“No; you keep it,” Alex said. “Use it to get yourself educated on the Mail .” He had to be fucking with him, Josh thought, but before he could ponder more Alex was slipping towards the door. Josh heard the bell chime as Alex let himself out.
Ferris put his milk on the counter. Josh braced himself for the tirade that was coming.
“Can’t believe he reads the Mail - what an idiot,” Ferris complained and Josh couldn’t help but laugh.
It was only several minutes later, after Ferris had gone and Josh was back to contemplating his hangover, that he realised Alex had never given him a straight answer about the bruises.
Although - he hadn’t denied Josh’s theories, had he?
Josh got out his phone, grinning again. The lads were going to have a field day with this one.