Vox x reader (for real this time, not satire)

Chapter 3: Poetry

*Just a note that I'm definitely not making fun of Ricky or any disabled person. Ricky calls himself a cripple and uses his disability in a humorous sense, all in respectful fun. I'd never make fun of anybody, no matter what they look like.*

     Silence. After about ten solid minutes of going through Ricky Berwick's YouTube channel, Vox slowly and shakily reaches up a finger to turn off the monitor he was using. There are no thoughts going through his brain. If there are, they are so foggy and speedy they're near incomprehensible. After another ten minutes of just trying to get over everything that was just shoved in his brain, his mind comes to a halt; What in Lucifer's Red Hell goes on in your brain every day? He doesn't know, but he's determined to find out. If you're going to be a permanent employee at VoxTek, he can't have you keeping stuff like..... this hidden. He gets up from his chair.

     You fell asleep rather easy, and slept for a good few hours, something that was fairly easy for your slothful ass to achieve after you got tired of pretending to be Ricky Berwick's back hump. Now you are a poet. You're looking over your masterpieces (we will come back to this later), things you had written out to read to Ricky Berwick before you so rudely got killed. You're waiting for Vox to come in and give you your orders for the day. You could have gotten up and started being productive on your own by doing simple things or just going and finding the man yourself to get your list of duties, but nah. Soon enough, you get a sudden knock on your door, a rare sound for your ears because you never get voluntary company. You leap over and open the door with your childish grin and giant, wide eyes. Vox is standing with a hand behind his back, his other giving you an awkward wave with a forced smile. "Hello, (name), I'm here to give you your uh.. list of duties for today.." he said semi quietly, inviting himself in and standing with both his hands behind his back, peering down at you with a very obvious judging look. Why is he looking at you like that? Did you somehow do something extremely embarrassing that you have no recollection of just a few hours beforehand? You probably think the potion affected your memory right? Contrary to what you may believe, it doesn't, it's just that your memory is so shitty you can't recall anything past an hour ago most of the time. You just stare back, wringing your hands, looking up at him, waiting.....  "I would invite you to join me and the others for lunch but it's already well past 1pm." He said, raising a brow as he continued to stare at you. "I'm not exactly sure what meal comes between breakfast and lunch but..... you're uh, welcome to help yourself to some down in my kitchen. I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding it..." He then coughed and stood up straighter, seeming to recollect himself. "So uh, whatcha.. been doing since coming to your room?" He asked, straightening his jacket and placing his hands on his hips, giving you a still judgmental, yet curious look. "You been... watching, like *cough* videos and stuff?" Your face immediately brightens. "Oh yeah! I always watch hours and hours of videos before I go to sleep! Especially Ricky Berwick!" Vox closes his eyes and gives a fake laugh, snapping his fingers. "Yeah, that Ricky guy. That's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about!" You gasp. Somebody actually wants to talk about Ricky with you? You've surprisingly never found anyone with common interests, so this is a very welcome and pleasant surprise. "Yeah! I love Ricky! I'd love to talk about him!" You exclaim, jumping up and down like the toddler you are. He gives an exasperated and forced laugh as he growls to himself, waiting for you to calm down. He finally puts his hands on your shoulders, stopping your bouncing, and turning you around to walk you back to the bed to sit down, him sitting beside you.

     You're still giggling like a buffoon, barely able to keep still. "So... this, Ricky Berwick, what uh... exactly do his videos make you feel?..." He asked slowly, seeming to carefully pick each word. "Oh my god, they make me feel like I'm on top of the world. They make me happy, and all warm and giggly inside-" "Oh ok ok. So you.. really like this guy. Uh, is it like... a crush on him or like... admiration?" Vox is now propping his chin on his hand, seeming to study your every facial feature. "Oh, it's not anything sexual. It's more like a god-worshiper type scenario. Anyone with any kind of brain would know Ricky Berwick is a divine power that deserves the utmost praise and respect from every person on earth; us lowly, non cripples." Vox sighs. "I can't.. tell if you're being serious or not but, I think you are." He speaks in a voice that conveys he's just given up every ounce of hope left in his body. "So what's your favorite... video?" He asks, taking off his top-hat and running a hand over the top of his head as he closes his eyes. "Oh, there's so many to choose from! Field of Cripples is a good one, where he and his twin scream in unison. Then there's the one where he pretends to snort a line of coke, and the one where he pretends to be a camel- very fitting for his physique!" Vox is completely still, face neutral and eyes closed as you can't even tell if he's paying attention. After a moment of silence, you poke his shoulder. "What about you? What's your favorite video?" He squeezes his eyes tight before opening them, looking over at you with a face that showed regret for every decision he'd made in his career up to hiring you. "I saw one where he licked his cat on the lips. That made me think..." He said sarcastically. You're wriggling your hands around in glee. "Actually, it's his cat that's licking him on the lips, more or less in the lips." You correct him. Vox lets out a sickened sigh. "Of course you'd know that. What about the one where he.. yknow stuffs a wad of Christmas lights in his- in his shorts." He pops the band on his pants as he looks at you with an extremely disgusted and unimpressed expression. Your expression, on the other hand, is nothing but pure ignorant joy. "Oh yeah! Yeah then he cuts them on and a music box cover of We Wish You a Merry Christmas starts playing while he looks at the camera and flicks his tongue!" Vox rolls his eyes and sighs, resting his face in his hand. "Jesus Christ..." You continue rambling on about your favorite videos, from him showing off his third nipple, to him photoshopping himself into Mario games, to him pushing his crippled fingers through a McDonalds fry box and wriggling them around before chewing on them. Vox's face (pixels?) somehow pales as he stares off into space in horror.