Chapter Text
Aesop immediately crumples to the ground.
“Sir!” Aesop can hear Eli, but his voice is muffled. “Are you alright--”
But Eli is interrupted by a wail.
It starts like dominos falling on top of each other: another child picks up the wail, and then another, and another, until all of them are crying together, a cacophony of shrieking children on a Wednesday afternoon.
What Aesop assumes to be a couple kids push by him, small hands shoving past him.
Some kid steps on his fingers.
Aesop grunts, squirming on the ground. He tries to sit up, but it’s hard to do so when he’s good as blind in the mascot head and feeling like his head weighs a few extra tonnes.
He does a humiliating sort of backbend instead, arms flailing.
“Get me out--” Aesop snaps, summoning any semblance of authority into his voice. At least, as much as he could muster while sprawling on the ground with a Cinnamoroll mascot attached onto his own head.
The screaming from the children intensifies, and Aesop hears a chorus of small voices on the side.
‘You’re not Cinnamoroll!”
“Cinnamoroll! Cinnamoroll!”
There are panicked voices too, voices of employees and panicked parents trying to hush their children. Eli was nowhere to be heard.
Amidst the chaos, a new voice spoke directly. “Oh, dear.” From the ground, Aesop feels footsteps, hurriedly stepping closer to him.
The same voice is breathless, and a pair of hands wrap around the mascot head. “Oh, I am so so sorry--”
Aesop glowers at the back of the Cinnamoroll eyes. They’d better be sorry, he seethes. All he had wanted was to take a photo with Cinnamoroll, but he’d ended up wearing the decapitated head of his childhood idol in the midst of the horde of screaming children.
Some tugging at the base of his neck. A pause. “I think it’s loose enough. I’m going to pull it off now, okay?”
Aesop clenches his jaw. If only they could just hurry up --
And with a strong yank, the head finally goes off.
Aesop’s anger dissipates as he looks into the face of the most beautiful man he’s ever seen.
His cascading blond hair was tied into a bun, with some strands that had fallen out settling gracefully onto the man’s neck. They glimmer like woven gold on his skin, contrasting his eyes, which were a pretty shade of blue. Like the colour of the skies.
Parts of the Cinnamoroll mascot is still on him, and the rest of the costume hangs awkwardly, oversized against his lithe frame. His tag on his chest reads a name, handwriting neat and elegant: Joseph.
Now that the costume wasn’t attached to the head, the rest of Cinnamoroll’s body has deflated onto the ground, revealing the rest of the man’s body underneath. Aesop unashamedly let his eyes wander down, staring at the man’s outline: his shoulders, chiselled arms, long, thin fingers, and then back at his face.
“Sir?”
“Huh?” Aesop responds distractedly.
“Do you feel okay?” The man-- Joseph anxiously stares at him.
Aesop is about to answer, but something heavy knocks into him.
Aesop’s eyes flash. His mind whirls through all eighteen martial arts his mother had trained into him ever since she had ascended to company CEO and Aesop turns, ready to exterminate the threat at hand that had interrupted him at this critical moment.
A child, wide-eyed and snot-faced, stares back at him. The child is holding an ice cream cone. His arms tremble as he meets Aesop’s gaze. With a whimper, the ice cream falls to the ground with a splat.
The child takes all but a couple of seconds to take it all in: at his cone, a glance at Aesop, back to the ice cream on the ground, and then at the mascot head on Joseph’s hands. The child’s expression changes to one of horror, crumbling comically in slow motion before opening his mouth in a wordless scream--
“Oh dear!” With a movement that could only have been described as being achieved from years and years of ice cream shop toiling, Joseph brandishes an ice cream scooper seemingly out of thin air and in one smooth motion, shoves the ice cream into the kid’s mouth, all the while smiling cheerfully. Aesop thinks he can spot a hint of deranged glee in his eyes. “You seemed to have dropped your ice cream!”
The kid tearfully looks up at both of them. He opens his mouth wider, most likely to screech his lungs out. Aesop winces, mentally preparing himself for it.
But it never comes.
Instead, the child’s expression changes. He closed his mouth, properly tasting the ice cream. The sweetness seems to have calmed the child, because his expression relaxes. Seemingly placated, the child wobbles off somewhere.
Aesop looks at Joseph in wonder.
“Marry me.” Aesop says.
“What?”
“Gregory!” A woman with a bob cut chases after the child that had just left, obnoxious heels clacking against the floor of the parlour. “Don’t eat food that was on the ground!”
Joseph sighs. He glowers murderously at the woman as she dashes past them.
Even his annoyed expression looked adorable. No wonder he was the mascot for Cinnamoroll. Aesop wouldn’t have accepted it any other way.
The manager had good taste, Aesop thinks to himself, nodding in approval while admiring the little scrunch at the top of Joseph’s nose bridge.
Then Joseph’s eyes snap back to him and widen, as though he had just remembered Aesop was still there. “Ah--” He spoke hurriedly. “Sorry about that. Children can be such little brutes sometimes.”
“I agree,” Aesop automatically nods. His mouth had unfortunately run dry the moment Joseph made eye contact with him. Every thought vanishes from his mind.
Joseph purses his lips and smiles, nodding to the fray of crying children conversationally. “So, which of these are yours?”
Aesop is pointing to a random child-- a little girl with long blonde hair in a white frock-- before the implication of Joseph’s words dawns on him. He jerks his head up in panic. “Wait, I’m not that old--”
Something warm pressing against his arm causes Aesop to freeze.
“Oh dear.” Joseph murmurs, and Aesop stills even more. His hand brushes against Aesop’s forearm. “You’ve got some ice cream on you.”
Aesop splutters.
“Here.” Joseph fishes a handkerchief-- a blue and white one! -- out of his pocket and dabs at the stain on Aesop’s blazer. The cute pout appears on Joseph’s face again. “It’s not coming off.”
Aesop didn’t think he would mind if it didn’t come off, as long as Joseph was still this close to him.
“Excuse me, young man!” The stomping of heel clicks sounding nearer and nearer was accompanied with a loud harumph.
Joseph looks up, confused.
Aesop looks up, irritated.
The blonde bob-cut woman is standing in front of them, arms crossed. She looks angered. A pearl-studded purse is clasped in one hand, Gregory’s arm in the other.
“What.” Aesop snarls.
The woman’s nostrils flare. “You!” One stubby finger shoots out to point accusingly at Joseph. “Did you…” The woman shook her finger, before turning her head to look at Aesop. “You saw the atrocity this man committed too, didn’t you?”
Aesop pretends to think about it. Then, as flatly as possible, “No.”
The woman’s eyes bulged. “I’m going to sue--”
“Okay!” Another voice interrupts them, and a woman wearing a similar employee shirt to Joseph’s places her hand on the blonde woman’s shoulder. The only difference in her shirt in comparison to the other employees is that her shirt is a lovely lilac purple with a Kuromi sticker glittering in the front. Her name tag read ‘Mary’.
“I’m the manager in charge here.” Mary smiles at them and fixes a stern look at Joseph, who looks away pointedly. “I apologize for the mess my employee has made.” Her smile is more teeth than lip, and her red lipstick contrasts her sharp teeth even more.
“Oh, thank goodness!” The woman, who was visibly still enraged, puffs. “My poor Gregory! Forced to have eaten filth from the ground! Absolutely disgusting!”
“I understand.” Mary soothes. “It was a complete mistake on our part.”
The woman blinks, seemingly confused. “Wha--” Her mouth gapes, before she remembers where she is and crosses her hands once more. “I mean, of course it was! I demand compensation--”
“Free ice cream for your darling boy every time he comes by the next month,” Mary offers. “Free of charge for cone and cup.”
The woman is now at a loss for words.
Mary turns. “Okay, everyone!” She calls. “It appears we’re closing early! Sorry for any messes or trauma that have resulted from today! Anyone who wants to be compensated will be compensated, and I know a good psychologist to recommend to prevent the negative side effects of trauma on the growing child!”
While the children are still continuing to make a fuss, their parents who heard Mary seem to take it well. Aesop watches as each child is hauled to their feet, taken individually to the door by parents and helping employees alike.
Mary glares at Joseph.
Joseph wilts underneath her gaze, shifting away.
“To the back.” Mary tsks. “Now .”
Joseph looks nervous now. But he doesn’t complain, resigning himself to his fate, heading towards the direction Mary jabs her thumb in.
Aesop reaches a hand out. “Wait--”
But Joseph has already started to totter away in his Cinnamoroll costume, mascot head in hands.
Mary stands in front of Aesop instead. “Sir, we’re closed for the day.”
Desperate, Aesop tries one last thing, a trick of his mother’s. He glares at Mary. “Do you know who I am--”
“Out!” Mary commands. She shakes her head at him. “No exceptions!”
With a firm shove, the door slams in his face. The lights in the building flicker out despite it being daytime, and the OPEN!’ pink Hello Kitty sign flips over to a sad ‘SORRY… CLOSED!’ droopy-eared Cinamoroll.
The Cinamoroll only serves to remind Aesop of his current predicament. Aesop’s shoulders slump.
Around him, parents and their children are heading home. Some of them are still comforting their sniffling children. The businessmen-- Aesop had almost forgotten about them-- were standing in a small crowd by themselves. Eli stands next to them.
Aesop glares at his butler, who was dusting off his shoulders.
“Where were you?”
“Horses,” Eli said, without elaborating.
“What?” Aesop starts, then shakes his head. “Whatever. Did you see the employee? The Cinamoroll?”
Eli gives Aesop a polite smile, one which Aesop knows well enough to mean that Eli has no idea whatsoever he’s talking about. “Certainly, sir.”
“I’m going back.” Aesop would’ve marched back into the store, ice cream stain on his blazer and all, if not for Eli, who grabbed him.
“We’re still in the middle of doing business, sir.” Eli hisses out of the side of his mouth. He clears his throat and gives one of the businessmen a friendly nod as the other man nervously glances at them. “Don’t embarrass yourself.”
Aesop gives the man a particularly frosty glare, and relishes in the way the man yelps and looks away skittishly. His co-workers huddle around him, murmuring words of comfort to the distressed man. A sob rises from the middle of the hastily made circle.
Aesop feels the smirk tugging at his lips.
Eli sighs. “Compose yourself. For your mother’s sake, at least.”
Aesop scoffs. “Since when have you started to give me orders?” He snaps, but reluctantly takes one last, mournful look at the ice cream parlour over his shoulder before walking away.
And maybe Eli felt bad, because he glanced sympathetically at Aesop. “The ice cream place will still be open. We can always stop by another time, sir.”
“That’s not…” Aesop gloomily huffs, shaking his head. “Whatever.” He mumbles.
For the next few moments, they walk back to their building in silence, Aesop scowling at the ground and Eli’s face as unreadable as always.
A sudden thought strikes Aesop, and he turns to Eli.
“Actually…” Aesop frowns at Eli. “I don’t look that old, do I?”
“I mean…” Eli blinks, seemingly taken aback. “You do have silver hair.”
Aesop furrows his brows, contemplating. He tugs at his front hair, studying the strands through his fingers. “Should I dye my hair black?”
Eli just gives him a polite smile.
An angry Mary is a dangerous Mary.
Joseph paces anxiously in her tiny office. No matter what, it would be within his best interest to appease her. He just hopes that the damage that had been done wasn’t too bad. But then again, she was particularly perceptible to mood swings, and was sometimes unpredictable.
The door swings open, and Mary enters with a sigh. Her eyes drift over to Joseph.
“I can explain.” Joseph starts, but he’s silenced with a wave of Mary’s perfectly manicured hand. She makes him wait as she takes her time to settle down on her chair behind the desk, even going so far as to rearrange her cushions.
“No need. I saw everything.”
“Oh, good.” Joseph relaxes. “So you’ll know that it’s not my fault--”
“Your paycheck,” Mary cuts him icily, “goes into mending the suit.”
“That’s unfair!” Joseph cries out, completely abandoning his previous line of thought. “How about the double paycheck I was promised? All that extra time I put in today? Hours and hours of work, might I remind you--”
Mary looks down at him from her nose. “You’re just a replaceable retail worker,” she hisses. “Know your place, peasant.”
One week as a manager, and the power had already gotten to her head.
Joseph scowls. In an attempt to switch tactics, he dramatically flings a hand upwards, swooning. “Fine. But if my poor brother dies from his disease from the lack of paying his bills, it lies on your guilty conscience.”
“Claude’s migraine was only because he decided to see how many cans of red bulls he could chug down until he passed out.”
Joseph’s scowl deepens, and he glares at the Kuromi on Mary’s shirt. Damn her.
Mary took his silence as his defeat. Satisfied, she turns away. “Don’t be so gloomy. I’ll give you a couple of shifts for the next few days for you to earn the money you lost today. The costume should be mended by the end of this week as well, so prepare to wear it again soon.”
“How generous of you.”
“And if there are no more queries, you may be dismissed.” Mary plastered a well-crafted sweet smile on her face like the fake she was. “Good work for today!”
Joseph shoots her the most venomous look he can muster.
But unfortunately, she was right. Joseph was replaceable in the end. The cycle would continue, with or without him, with the next poor schmuck forced to spend the rest of their days underneath the Cinnamoroll mascot suit, just as sweaty and miserable as he had. Did Joseph even have any ground to refuse her?
So, trying not to sound too pathetic, Joseph relents. “I’ll… take the shifts.”
“I thought so.” Mary nods, clearly pleased. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then.”
Joseph makes sure to slam the door as he leaves.
The only reason Joseph works at the ice cream parlour is that it’s in a convenient location to his apartment, a decent fifteen-minute walk away. There were always better, Joseph supposes, but even he had to admit that there were worser places to work at, too.
He shares his apartment with his twin brother, Claude. As broke university students, both of them struggle to pay the bills sometimes, but they’d usually be able to pull through in the end.
Joseph did photography while Claude had his degree in fine arts, meaning while both of them had to spend most of their time committed to their respective art, Claude was usually at home finishing up some art project he had due. Today was no exception as well.
Joseph twists the key in the slot and opens the door to their small apartment.
“Brother!” From his desk, Claude looks up from his sketch and greets him with a flippant salute.
“You look busy,” Joseph comments, raising an eyebrow at the desk. “What are you working on now?”
“Just some art,” Claude says airily. “Nothing too important.” He stretches in his chair. “I cooked some lunch. There are some leftovers on the table if you’d like.”
Joseph shut the door behind him, stepping into the apartment. “Thanks.”
“How was work?”
“Terrible,” Joseph grumbles. He flops onto the chair next to Claude, sighing. “I never want to go through today ever again.”
Claude snorts. “Surely you exaggerate.”
Oh, sweet, sweet Claude, who would never understand the horrors of capitalism. Joseph closed his eyes with a smile and embraced his brother tenderly. Not that Joseph would ever let him.
Having taken one brother was enough. If one of them had to be sacrificed to the harsh, cruel landscapes of the modern workforce, Joseph was willing to do it for Claude. Let Joseph do the dirty work.
That is, until Joseph spots Claude’s drawing.
He had initially mistook the subject of the drawing to be human, but the skin texture looked softer, more feathery…no, Joseph realized with growing horror, furry. Two dog-like ears protruded from the sides of the head of creature that Claude had been drawing, and a tail perks up from the base of its spine.
There were also more… unsavoury details that Joseph decides that he didn’t see.
Joseph slowly retracts his arms from Claude’s shoulders.
“...What the fuck are you drawing, brother.”
“Hm?” Claude follows his gaze.
To end up facing his own artwork on the desk. His very graphic, very detailed, very explicit, furry artwork.
“Oh,” Claude stares at it.
For one, horrible second, no one speaks.
Then Claude beams-- he actually beams, his lips widening and cheeks stretching to expose his grin, at Joseph. “Do you like it?”
“Why are you drawing that.”
“They’re the art commissions I get!” Claude chirps, why was he chirping, why was Claude acting like this was normal--
Joseph fights to keep his tone calm. “Art commissions?”
“Yeah! Jack suggested that I start opening my socials to that sort of thing. It’s kinda handy, actually.”
“If you’re drawing something like… like this,” Joseph grabs the furry art, arms shaking, “why aren’t you keeping it digitally?”
How many more of these drawings did Claude have stored around the room?
Joseph stares around in horror.
“It’s not that bad, really!” Claude protests. “It’s not something I actively need to hide, is it? I just do some commissions here and there, it pays well and gives me enough time for my other assignments. Granted, some of the things I’ve been requested to draw have been a little weird--”
“GAH!” Joseph closes his eyes in agony, clutching his head. He could picture it, his sweet innocent brother being corrupted to the… the absolute promiscuities and immorality of the internet. “Don’t…” He says weakly. “I don’t want to think about it.”
“I think you’re being overtly dramatic now, brother.”
“Am not!” Joseph’s voice cracks. “I demand you to-- oh, Claude,” he despairs, half-sobbing. “What has Jack done to you? I don’t care how much I have to work to make up for your drawings, just--- just--”
He was going to murder Jack. The next time Joseph saw him, he would make sure that bastard would properly stay dead. But the damage had already be done, hadn’t it?
Joseph lets out an anguished wail.
“Joseph.” Claude gently frees the abomination Joseph is holding from his grip. Once Claude sets it back on the table, he faces Joseph again. “Calm down. I did say it was convenient, but I wouldn’t do anything to stress you. Okay?”
“But…” Joseph mutters, tearfully looking over at the desk. “Your art…”
Claude places a hand on his back, patting him reassuringly. “It’s really not a big deal. Or would you rather if I just drew less commissions instead? That way I’ll still be able to make some money while being able to uh, make you feel better about it. ”
Joseph’s still panicked, but those words are slowly calming him down. Joseph mulls it over.
“Fine,” Joseph huffs. “But no explicit furry drawings.”
“Fine,” Claude rolls his eyes. “No explicit furry drawings. If it bothers you that much, fine.”
“Good!” Joseph finally relaxes, the first time he could do so properly today.
But Claude isn’t finished talking. “Well, how about you then?”
“What about me?”
“Don’t you have that photography final assignment due in the next couple of weeks or so? You can’t possibly fit all those shifts alongside working for it and university at the same time.”
“Oh, that?” Joseph carelessly waves his hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’m doing extra soon anyway, so I’ve got it all covered!”
Claude gives him a look. “Well, if you say so,” he mumbles, going back to his drawing on the table. “But do tell me if you can’t handle it, okay? I’m able to handle some things on my own too.”
“Of course,” Joseph agrees, but in his mind he’s frantically doing the mental calculations of how many extra shifts he’ll need to pick up for the month.
He’ll just have to pull a couple all nighters here and there, but, oh well. It didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Joseph resolves his decision, nodding to himself. He’d do anything for Claude, after all.
On the table nearest to the window of the Sanrio ice cream parlour, dark-haired and dressed primly, Aesop sits, relaxed, sipping out of a Sanrio teacup. My Melody smiles at the side of the cup from a bouquet of red roses, and Aesop sets the teacup down on the polka dot saucer. He dabs his mouth with a napkin daintily.
Next to him sits Memory, swinging her legs on her seat, enjoying the stack of ice cream scoops on her cone. Behind them stands a very tired-looking Eli.
It wasn’t too difficult for Aesop to attain her guardian’s permission for Memory-- a few hundred thousand dollars for funding his next novels alongside some light blackmail on the bodies the novelist was hiding in his basement, and the man had easily agreed. People were so easily bought.
Aesop stares out of the window and into the distance. “Do I look nonchalant enough, Eli?” He props a hand beneath his chin, strategically letting the blazer dangle from his back. “Or is this pose better?”
Aesop crosses his legs and leans back on his chair, before ruffling at his dark hair.
In a last effort to make Aesop see rationality, Eli had desperately begged Aesop to at least keep some of his natural hair color to match his mother, so Aesop had obliged. But now, scrutinizing his reflection in the glass, Aesop wonders if the grey streaks in his hair was a bad idea.
“When I said we could come back another day,” Eli says mildly, “I didn’t… expect you to return for the next three days in a row.”
Memory giggles in delight, smearing the last bits of her ice cream all over her face.
“We don’t even know if the Joseph you’ve been talking about will be here.”
“Hmm.” Utterly unconcerned, Aesop adjusts his gloves.
“Eli, Eli!” Memory yells, shaking her now empty cone, edges gnawed at. She brandishes her cone at Eli. “I want more ice cream!”
“Little miss,” Eli lowers himself until he was crouching at eye level with Memory. “With all due respect, this is your fourth cone of the day. I don’t think another scoop of ice cream is a good idea.”
Memory pouts at him. “Pwease, pwease…” she mumbles, using her puppy-dog eyes on him.
“Maybe another time, if you’re good today.” Holding a nearby paper serviette, Eli wipes the edges of her mouth. “Do you remember what you’re supposed to do if you’re done with your meal?”
Eli had wasted no time once they had acquired Memory, taking it upon himself to train her in all aspects of etiquette himself. That included dining etiquette, social etiquette, and even all the unnecessary bits, like ballroom dancing and working on her posture. In the past few days, while Aesop was in his office, focused on his paperwork, Eli would be in the background trying to coach a reluctant Memory.
Memory was intelligent and sharp, there was no doubt about it. She was also, as a panicked Eli had discovered very early on while chasing a giggling Memory through the corridors of the company, a troublemaker.
Rumours had spread throughout the company, all sorts of ridiculous ones, that Memory was Aesop’s child he was hiding from his mother, that Aesop had kidnapped her, or that she was the true heir to the company and that Aesop had tasked Eli to eliminate her.
Aesop had been unimpressed, and instead doubled the workload of every brave individual that dared to ask him about it. If they had so much time they could afford gossiping, he’d give them something else to fill their time with.
But his thoughts screech into a halt as Aesop spots a glint of golden hair. Joseph comes out from the back. Aesop sits up straight.
“He’s here!” Aesop gasps, and jabs Eli in the stomach.
Eli coughs, and doubles over.
But Aesop didn’t care anymore.
All of his attention has been primarily taken up by Joseph, who was talking to a customer behind the counter. Even the flick of his wrist as he gestured to one of the ice cream flavours was graceful. The customer nods, and Joseph takes up the ice cream scooper.
Joseph rolls his sleeve up, exposing one smooth, pale forearm.
Aesop blushes and ducks behind his satchel bag like a schoolgirl with a crush.
“Good grief,” Eli mumbles.
“His arms…” Aesop breathes. “I need to bite his cheeks.”
Aesop watches distractedly as Joseph laughs at something his co-worker says. Seeing him in the Cinnamoroll outfit was cute, but seeing Joseph just the way he look was even more breathtaking.
“Maybe…” Eli struggles to word his thoughts without sounding too impolite. He speaks his next words slowly. “Maybe you should consider going up and… perchance… talk to him. Or a gift. Instead of whatever…” He glances at Aesop, whose gaze was still following Joseph. “....whatever this is.”
It’s only at those words that Aesop glances back at him hopefully. “You think so?”
“I do believe talking to him would be most effective, sir.”
“No, no.” Aesop hums. “I think giving him something works just as well.”
But what should Aesop gift Joseph?
“He works in an ice cream shop.” Aesop tapped his chin thoughtfully. “That must mean he likes ice cream.”
“Erm, I don’t think that’s how it works, sir.”
Aesop eyes the different flavours of ice cream presented in front of them. “Which flavour do you suppose he would enjoy most?”
“Chocolate,” Memory suggests, and lunges over the table for Aesop’s teacup.
“Hm.” Aesop takes another swig of his tea, and Memory’s elbows smack uselessly on the table. Not quite, he thinks to himself dryly. He should account for all variables. All possibilities, every single outcome.
His eyes wander to his phone. And in a flash, the answer comes to Aesop. With the decision making skills of a Times 100 CEO, Aesop solemnly nods, coming to a decision. He glances at his recent transactions.
His mother’s gift would not go to waste.
Aesop snaps his fingers, brisk and no-nonsensical. “Eli. Send for all of the ice cream in the shop.”
Eli’s disbelieving gaze flutters over to him.
Aesop holds his gaze challengingly. Eventually Eli just sighs, clearing his throat. “If you say so, sir.” He sounds doubtful.
Maybe Eli was right. Maybe purchasing all the ice cream rather than opting for one flavour was a little bit too extra. But Aesop is confident in his choice.
Who wouldn’t like money? Who wouldn’t like being pampered a little more, or being gifted anything at all?
Pleased with himself, Aesop smiles.
He’s in a good mood for the rest of the day, even letting Memory steal his biscuit off the saucer.
“Hey, Joseph?” Claude calls from nearby the door.
“Yeah?”
Claude’s voice drifts from outside. “Did you order any ice cream?”
“What?” Sleep deprived and half delirious, Joseph looks up from where he’s typing up his essay. He’s got work soon too, so he’s not particularly in a thrilled mood.
“There’s ice cream in the mail. Like… a lot.”
“What do you mean?”
“Uh… Maybe you should come over to have a look instead.”
Joseph sighs. Reluctantly, picking himself up from the table, he hauls himself to the door. “What is it?”
Before stopping next to Claude.
A lot was an understatement.
Joseph stares.
Buckets and buckets of ice cream, stacked neatly into rows, greeted his eyes. They filled the whole entrance, with just barely enough space for him to squeeze outside. There’s a couple of people in front too-- a man in a business suit giving instructions, while the rest of his employees (?) scurry around, obeying. More buckets are stacked down, placed in front of the door.
“Good morning, Mr. Desaulniers.” The man closest to the door, the one that was seemingly directly the rest, calls to him. “My name is Eli Clark, and I have a package to deliver to you.”
Eli holds out a gloved hand to Joseph.
An employee dressed in a suit is unloading even more ice cream from a trolley, and his co-worker silently brings another trolley full of ice cream buckets around.
“What…” Joseph blinks. “Huh…?”
“I understand your surprise, Mr. Desaulniers.” Eli smoothly retracts his hand. “I can assure you that this is all free of charge and that everything has been taken care of.”
“Wait. We can’t possibly accept this!” protests Joseph.
Claude, whose eyes were sparkling at the mountains of ice cream, deflated slightly. “We can’t?”
“This is-- this is insane!” Joseph gasps. He whirls to his brother. “We can’t even fit even a quarter of what’s here in our fridge!”
“Ah.” Eli taps his chin thoughtfully. “That’s not an issue at all. My employer will be happy to provide you with a bigger fridge.”
“That’s not what I meant--”
Fishing through his pockets, Eli pulls out a phone. He texts quickly, and places it back into his pocket. “The fridge is on its way now. You should receive it in the next hour, before the ice cream melts too quickly.”
Joseph shakes his head. “We can’t…” he protests, but it sounds weak, even to him.
Eli snaps his fingers. “Oh, I almost forgot.” He gestures to a blond boy behind him in a suit. “Victor has something to give you.”
Victor steps forward and hands him an envelope with a bow. The envelope is clad in black, and sealed with red wax. It looks formal, as though Joseph was receiving an invitation to a fancy dinner rather than a message.
Joseph hesitantly takes it. “Thank… you?”
Now that he was holding it, he could feel how fuzzy the envelope actually was. Joseph almost drops it, startled. It was definitely not made of paper, but whatever the material was, it felt expensive.
The envelope probably cost more than his entire paycheck of the month.
He glances back at Eli, who was watching him.
Eli shrugs. “Go on, open it.”
Gingerly, Joseph bent the envelope, somewhat afraid of damaging it. Breaking the seal, he takes out the letter with trembling hands.
Eli smiles. “It’s addressed to you.”
Joseph stares.
The handwriting is… messy, with the words being too close together. But it’s with no doubt that it was his name scrawled in careful gold ink-- To Joseph.
“But who could’ve…” Joseph’s voice trails off. He’s just mystified. Who would’ve done this? Joseph goes through a mental list of people in his head and draws a blank. He doesn’t know anyone who would decide to gift him with a ridiculous amount of ice cream at 9AM in the morning while having the resources to do so.
Eli just pats his arm. “I wouldn’t think about it too much,” he advises. “My employer is quite shy.”
Joseph could detect a glimmer of amusement underneath the man’s serious demeanour. But Eli straightens, and his expression returns back to normal.
“Have a nice day, Mr. Desaulniers.”
And just like that, he was gone. The other employees behind him pack up and leave in a brisk, orderly fashion. Everything was done in a quick and efficient manner, and once they left, it was like they were never there at all.
If not for the ice cream buckets all around him, Joseph would've chalked it up to a hallucination.
Claude rips open the nearest bucket of ice cream and starts eating it, without a spoon and all.
Joseph makes a face. “That is disgusting, brother.”
“Hey, I didn’t have breakfast.” Claude retorts, taking another bite of ice cream. He brightens. “Whoa, this is good.”
He proceeds to shovel more ice cream into his mouth.
Joseph leans on the door, feeling somewhat light-headed. “I’m glad that at least one of us is enjoying this,” he mutters.
“Also, isn’t this brand the ice cream shop you work at?” Claude twists the container so Joseph can have a look.
Craning his neck to have a better look, Joseph realizes that Claude was right. The ice cream buckets were all from the Sanrio ice cream parlour. More specifically, his ice cream parlour. He would recognize that logo anywhere, anytime-- it plagues his nightmares after all.
Speaking of which--
Joseph’s eyes snap wide open. “What time is it?”
“Uh, I dunno.” Still cradling his bucket of ice cream, Claude checks his phone. “Like, a quarter to nine.”
Joseph curses. He scrambles into the house, frantically packing up to leave. “I’m going to be late!”
“Oh, right.” Claude goes back to his ice cream. “Have a good shift!” He calls, as Joseph dashes pass him on the way out.
Joseph, miraculously, makes it on time.
He bursts through the doors of the shop, panting slightly.
Mike is the only employee in the front of the shop, which is unusual. Even on days when there are less employees working, Mary always makes sure there are at least three of them at the front.
“It’s just you here?” Joseph raises his eyebrows at Mike.
Mike, who’s just finished helping a customer, gives Joseph a little wave in greeting. “Nice to see you too. You can join me on the front as well, actually.”
The ice cream parlour is fairly busy, with a few people lined up, impatiently waiting for their order, so Joseph figures he doesn’t have a choice anyway. Stepping behind the counter, he starts to wash his hands. “Are we short on staff today?”
“Nah.” Mike picks up a cone nearby, and on the customer’s instruction, starts rolling some ice cream into a scoop. “Emma, Mary and Andrew are all in the back.”
“That’s unusual. What are they all doing?”
“Didn’t you hear? We had our ice cream stock completely depleted yesterday-- Thank you, come again!” Mike calls to an exiting customer, who holds a hand up in acknowledgement. Mike grins, and turns to the next customer. “How can I help you?”
Joseph remembers the morning, all the ice cream in the apartment, and groans.
“Tell me about it,” he grumbles.
“Some guy in a fancy suit came by last evening, when Ganji was about to close up the shop. You should have seen his face.” Mike snickers. “And that wasn’t even the best part!” He crows.
“What?”
“The man asked for all of the ice cream in the shop. It was craaazy. Mary even came back to the shop to help Ganji and Andrew package everything. But now our ice cream’s all gone.” Mike laughs. “I had to come by last minute this morning at five to help out with the ice cream making for the day, and we’re still lacking. They might ask you to help later on too, actually.”
“This one?” Joseph confirms to a kid who’s with their mother. The kid anxiously looks back at their mother, who nods encourgingly. “Yeah, that’s fine,” he murmurs to Mike. “I’d rather do that than work in the front.”
But Mike wasn’t finished talking. Joseph was reminded again of how much of a gossip he could sometimes be.
“And apparently…” Mike lowers his voice, and Joseph has to lean in to hear him. “... they said some rich CEO was the one to buy it all for his spoiled fiance. And that the fiance has an unhealthy obsession with ice cream. And that the fiance threatened to break up if the CEO didn’t buy all of the ice cream in the shop. ”
Joseph snorts.
“I’m just the messenger.” Mike shrugs, fiddling with the ice cream scooper, a clear violation of food safety, which Joseph ignores. “I’m just telling you what I’ve heard.”
“I think it sounds ridiculous.”
“Would be nice being the fiance of a rich CEO, though.” Mike sighs wistfully.
“Psh.” Joseph gives him a roll of his eyes. “That’s just a dream for people like us.”
“It is,” Mike agrees sadly.
Their conversation is interrupted by a small cough.
“Excuse me.”
Joseph looks up.
The man standing in front of them is handsome. Although a little bit on the scrawny side, his sharp features make up for it. He stands tall with his impressive looking business attire and red tie, and Joseph can’t help but think that the color compliments him well.
“How can I help you?” Joseph smiles at him, and the man reddens at that. His gaze shifts around: sideways, at the ice cream displays, to the floor.
“Do you…” The man struggles to get his words out. “Do you remember me?”
Joseph forces himself to maintain his smile. “... Sorry?”
“I, well,” the man splutters. “We met last-- Well, it was more like I spoke to you…” He mumbles, tucking some of his dark hair behind his ear.
“Joseph!” Emma calls, somewhere from the back. “I could use a hand!”
“Alright, coming!” Joseph calls back. He turns to the man, smiling apologetically. “Sorry, I’m not too sure if we did meet. I’ve got to go so--” He grabs the nearest employee he could find, that being Mike, who yelps when Joseph touches him. “--my co-worker will help you with your order!”
“Wuh?” Mike, who clearly hadn’t caught up, blurrily asks.
Joseph grits his teeth, and nudges him towards the man.
The man’s face falls, a bit akin to a kicked puppy. Joseph almost feels bad.
Not bad enough to stay, though. He’d rather take working at the back than smiling at customers all day long, and he’s not about to sacrifice this valuable opportunity for some stranger. So with a last smile at the man, Joseph slips away.
Emma had instructed him to help her with some basic tasks with making more ice cream. They have to deal with a small accident that involves a kid diving themselves head first into the ice cream machine too, but whatever.
He’s done with work for the day, and after a tiring shift, Joseph longs for nothing more than lying on his bed.
But just as he’s left the shop, Joseph feels a gaze on him.
Joseph tenses up, and spins around.
It’s the man with the red tie. This time, he has a little girl at his side. He’s clutching her hand, but once Joseph meets his gaze, the man’s expression visibly complicates.
Almost robotically, the man reaches into his pocket and tosses something in front of Joseph. It flutters onto the ground.
The man coughs, “Whoospies. How clumsy of me, I seemed to have dropped five hundred dollars. Haha.”
He makes complete, deadpan eye contact with Joseph.
Joseph stares.
When it was clear that Joseph wasn’t going to say anything, the man clears his throat again. “I have dropped five hundred dolla--”
From the side, Joseph sees a blur of motion. Frederick, the local hobo, swipes at the money before dashing away.
The girl at the man’s side tugs his clothing.
“Oh wow.” She says loudly. “I think you just got mugged.”
“Shut up, Memory.” The man snaps back, and then looks at Joseph and smiles goofily. At least, Joseph thinks it’s a smile. His lips are twisted upwards, but it looks more like a grimace than anything.
Joseph turns and walks away quicker.
“Wait--” To Joseph’s horror, the man follows him.
Joseph increases his pace, but the man matches it with ease.
“I just wanted to ask if--” The man places a hand on Joseph’s shoulder.
Joseph screams.
“He hates me.”
Aesop slumps his head down on the table.
“Perhaps you need to be direct.” Eli hums, holding Memory on his shoulders, who gives a a happy squeal.
“I was direct!” Aesop hisses.
“With all due respect, sir, flashing a few hundred dollars in front of him as if you expected him to leap at your feet like some escort--” Aesop turns bright red “-- might not appear to the average onlooker that you are being direct. That was barely an attempt, if not at all.”
“Well, give me a better idea, Eli.” Aesop bites back, furiously red. “Isn’t that your job?”
“Uncle Aesop, are you…” Memory tilts her head and pokes his face. Her small hands hit against his cheeks. “... failing?”
“Don’t call me uncle,” grumbles Aesop. “I’m not that old.”
“Well, they do say children tend to be particularly honest.” Eli looks unbothered, but Aesop can hear the laugh he’s trying to hide in his voice.
“Eli.” Aesop grits his teeth.
“Alright, alright.” Eli sighs. “Goodness.”
Eli sets down Memory carefully. “You want to get closer to him but you’re too timid to do talk to him properly, you’ve tried offering gifts but he doesn’t seem to care, most likely he doesn’t know who you are. Or both. Most likely both.”
Aesop briefly considers firing him.
“So far you’ve done nothing, barring that awkward interaction in the shop. I won’t count you throwing money at him. And you’re asking for a solution, one that preferably allows you to stay within your comfort zone while being able to properly court him. Although… Hm.” Eli stops in the middle.
He seemingly ponders a thought for a few seconds.
Aesop raises an eyebrow.
“I suppose there is one other way.” Eli says slowly. “Which of course, does come with its set of drawbacks, but this method is guaranteed to be more effective than your past attempts.”
“What?” Aesop grouches, but Eli doesn’t say anything else. His foot impatiently taps at the floor. “What is it?”
“Don’t worry about it, sir.” A smile slowly stretches its way on Eli’s face. “I’ve got it all covered.”
“Hi, Joseph!” Anne greets Joseph from behind the counter. “Early day today, huh?”
Joseph doesn’t immediately respond, still exhausted from the previous day. When he had returned back to his apartment, he’d found the new fridge in the center of the room with Claude passed out, surrounded by an alarming number of empty buckets of ice cream and packets of Kool-Aid. After he had dealt with the aftermath of that, Joseph had to rush to cram his assignment that was due the next day, before finally being able to go to bed.
“Yeah,” he mutters, then quickly shakes himself. “I mean, hey, Anne.”
Today seemed to be a quiet day for the ice cream shop. Or maybe it was just because it was still morning. There were a couple customers lounging around, but most of them were minding their own business, chattering idly to each other without making too much fuss.
Joseph settles down next to Anne, helping her restock some of the ice cream from the countertop.
“How’s photography been?” Anne asks. She hands Joseph a tin of ice cream.
He takes it from her, busying himself with the metal tin. “Same as always.”
The silence stretches for a while, so in an effort to lengthen the conversation, Joseph asked, “Made any new toys recently?”
Working three part time jobs while balancing her school and hobbies seemed stressful to Joseph, but Anne had shrugged it off.
Anne’s eyes sparkles. “Yes!” She nods excitedly. “There’s this hang-glider I’m currently working on…”
She continued to talk, waving her arms automatically at times. Joseph politely smiles and nods at appropriate times.
Anne was one of the first employees that joined the parlour. So while she was still in her last year of high school, Joseph still treated her like she was his senior. Anne had happily obliged, treating him the same way as he was a few years older than her.
While they weren’t on close terms, Joseph still appreciates her at least making an effort to know him. Anne was probably the closest thing to a friend he had in this hellhole of a shop.
“... and you won’t believe how well it’s selling! Oh, I’m so glad people are liking it!” She twirls around in barely contained excitement, before abruptly stopping, her face turning red. “S--sorry.”
Joseph laughs. “Don’t worry about it. It’s good to hear you have a hobby you’re so passionate about.” He replaces an empty ice cream tin with another.
“Thanks, Joseph.” Still embarrassed, Anne gives him one of her sweet smiles, the type that had won her Employee of the Month consecutively. Although considering that her portrait was now fixed at the back of Mary’s office, Joseph could only feel sorry for her. “But, um, how’s it going for you? I heard from Mary that you decided to pick up extra shifts. Everything doing okay?”
Joseph’s laugh fades.
“Yes.”
He doesn’t elaborate.
Anne looks at him worriedly. “Do you need me to pick up any of your shifts? I don’t mind, you know. My holidays are about to begin as well.”
At that, Joseph feels a rare rush of grattitude, an emotion he’d thought was long lost after years of slaving away at his job and smiling soullessly at customers, day in and day out.
“Thank you.” He blinks at her, genuinely touched. “But I’ve got it covered.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Although I appreciate the thought.”
Anne ducks her head and nods. The conversation ends there, but a more comfortable silence falls. Joseph continues into the steady rhythm of restocking different flavours and polishing the glass.
If only every day could be as quiet as today. Speaking of which…
Joseph frowns.
He stops, a wet cloth in one hand and a glass cleaner in another. “What’s that noise?”
Anne blinks at him, confused. “What noise?”
But Joseph wasn’t the only one that could hear it. A few customers next to him worriedly glances around.
Faint at first, Joseph could hear a steady thrum coming from somewhere around them. The sound was cut off at some points, as though it was stuttering through intervals.
Chop-chop-chop-chop-chop.
There’s a rumble coming from atop. Joseph looks up. Anne, who now clearly hears it too, does the same.
The lights that were suspended on the ceiling were starting to shake.
Vrrrrr. VRRRR.
Another sound. It sounds closer to them this time, like the mechanical whirling of an engine.
The edges of the ceiling was beginning to crack. A few chunks of concrete fall from the top.
The noise, once barely noticeable, is a deafening roar now. Anne is saying something, her mouth forming out words, but Joseph can’t hear her at all.
With one, last, final roar, the whole rooftop is wrenched open, exposing them to the sky.
Someone screams, and there are a few other shouts of surprise.
Joseph and Anne gape at the new hole on the roof. Fresh, natural sunlight streams down their faces.
The sunlight is only momentarily, before being obstructed by an object, large and hovering, over what remained of the rooftop. Its shadow, dark and all-encompassing, falls over them.
Then Badtz Maru descends upon them on a helicopter.