Chapter Text
It was a special night for Artful, or at least… it was supposed to be. He had fumbled his final performance and was ridiculed by his audience. Let’s just say he wasn’t in the best mood.
“Je suis épuisé!” Artful groaned as he slinked into his car. His stomach growled as he pulled out of the small performance hall parking lot. Just as usual after his performances, he was starving. He knew as soon as he arrived home he would not want to cook, like he could anyway, his meals always ended in disaster.
He checked his built-in map on his car for local diners. He would usually just show up at the usual greasy fast food joint he always ends up at, it filled his stomach after all, but he figured a change of pace could somehow lighten his mood. He landed his finger on a joint he hasn’t come across before.
“Fascinant, must be new!” he shrugged as he clicked “Take me here!” on the touchscreen. The place seemed to be the type that tries to bring back 80s diners, have a notable repeating checker pattern about them, either be way too expensive or surprisingly reasonably priced.
He figured it was worth a shot…
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He turned his wheel into the parking lot, it was getting late, not a lot of visitors. Before he got out of his car, he checked himself in the mirror.
“Idiot, imbécile…” he muttered, as he felt the tears fester in his eyes. Great, now he was gonna look even more like an idiot walking in to wash off his runny performance makeup. Luckily, that’s why he always kept a small package of wet wipes in his car. But that wasn’t important right now. Right now, he just wanted to get all of his emotions out of his system.
He cried and wept.
He had to be the worst magician on this planet. Who else messed up more than he did?
Finally, after a minute or two, he pulled himself together, wiping away the rest of his makeup and walking inside.
The interior was a cozy, warm pink with, of course, the checker patterned prints and usual 80s style pictures on the walls, advertising brand deals in bands. It reminded him of after school lunch trips with his parents.
“Hello, stranger! Welcome to the Big Cherry!” a person behind the counter cheerily shouted.
“Salut…” He waved back as he waddled his way to the bar.
It wasn’t long before a waitress came by to give him a menu and asked him what he would like to drink.
“Just a shot of whiskey, please…” he muttered shortly before getting his desired beverage. He took a small sip before lying his head on the countertop. He thought he had gotten it all out of his system. Guess not.
“What’s got you poutin’ pal?” Another waitress had come up behind him to ask.
He had lifted up his head to look behind him to see who it was. He was caught with the face of a girl who seemed to look slightly younger than the rest of the waiters and waitresses at the place. She was wearing the diner uniform dawned with stripes with a type of decorative hairpiece on top of her bright pink hair. She seemed to have this type of bubbly personality about her in fact, did her hair look like soda? He tried not to think about it too hard. She was kind of charming.
“Nothing, Madame… just a bad day is all.” he said, as he took another slightly larger sip from his whiskey.
She took a pause, she seemed lost in thought for a minute or two.
Finally, she turned back to him, with new-found clarity,
“You sound familiar, are you the one and only Artful?” Her face turned slightly red as she put her hand behind her head, “Sorry if I’m prodding, I just… really admire your work!!”
His head popped up a tad, not expecting to be recognized outside of his usual make up. I guess it wasn’t every day a full-blown French man walks into an American restaurant.
He cleared his throat, adjusting his disheveled tie, “Ahem, yes. Yes I am!” He stood himself taller in his chair.
She gave him a sigh and pulled up a chair next to him.
“You know… you don’t have to act all high and mighty just because you’re somewhat popular.” She sat her hand on his shoulder, “Tell me what’s wrong…”
He paused for a second before giving a dramatic sigh and clasping both of his hands to his face. Was he really about to vent to a total stranger? It was too late. He had already started.
“My performance earlier today… was ruined by my own…” He sniffled before thinking of the correct word, “Stupidity!! I’m a fraud!!” He wept into the napkin that his whiskey was originally on.
The girl gave him a tired sigh, removing her grip from his shoulder. She wanted to give him a minute before she gave her condolences.
“Listen Artful,” she began as he calmed down a bit, “You’re not a fraud. No one said you were. I would go to your shows more often if they didn’t collide with my work schedule!” She gave a quick annoyed glance to another woman in the room, maybe her boss? He didn’t know.
“If you are correct, Madame,” He stared blankly at his glass before drinking the rest and tapping for a new one, “No one would truly care for me outside of the stage…”
“I would…” She spouted absentmindedly.
“Quoi?” Artful turned sharply.
The woman, not totally realizing what she had just said, quickly turned away with a slight rose-tinted blush on her cheek. Did this woman just flirt with him? Before he could prod further, the woman had already gotten back on her feet and walked away to check on a different customer. The interaction had caught him off guard. First, he had totally let his guard down to her, and next she said that she… actually cared for him? It was a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time, being his family not talking to him as much since he got into magic.
Another waiter had soon spotted him and asked him if he would like to get started on a food item. He ordered his food and quickly took another sip out of his newly filled glass.
He couldn’t stop thinking about what that woman had just said to him…
“I would…” he muttered to himself before taking another sip. He didn’t want to drink much else; he needed to be at least somewhat sober for the ride home. He asked the bartender for the receipt and swiftly started gathering his things. The diner was near closing time. He didn’t want to be a nuisance.
The receipt was slid to him, along with a familiar face appearing in front of him.
It was the woman from earlier, but now dawned with a seemingly apologetic expression.
“I’m sorry sir, I just… I didn’t… I- I wasn’t…” she was fiddling with the receipt in her hands.
“Don’t speak another word, Madame. No harm done!” He forgave before quickly handing her the amount he spent along with a $20 tip.
She stood agape, seriously, considering rejecting the tip before Artful spoke again,
“For lightning my mood, Chérie!~” he winked at her and watched her face grow more red by the millisecond.
Not understanding the French phrase, she responded, “Um! It’s Fizz, actually…”
“Call me Jean!” he proposed as he finished gathering his things and walked out the door.
He noticed that the woman, now knowing her name, Fizz, lingered in the window for a moment before jumping slightly, dusting herself off, and continuing her work.
He swiftly entered his car now, more levelheaded than when he entered it earlier and pulled the receipt out of his pocket. She had written the tip that he had given her, and of course, the kiss stain that she had left behind. He laid two fingers on the mark before giving one of his own. It was a small gesture that probably no one would see, but it meant something to him.
He was about to put the receipt in his pocket before he noticed something written on the back that he hadn’t noticed before…
It was a phone number, written in a distinct, bold, and slightly sloppy handwriting.
She had written her number on the back of the receipt. If Artful wasn’t charmed before, he definitely was now. His face had flushed a deep red before he stuffed the receipt back in his pocket.
Did he dare call the number?
Did he risk the chance of her pulling a fast one on him?
It was too much to think about and it was getting late and he wanted to sleep. He pulled out of the parking lot and made his way home. He couldn’t get her face out of his mind, her nervous smirk as he walked out.
He couldn’t wait to see if it was real…
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It was a day or so later.
Artful had a little more than a week till his next performance and he was spending his free time brushing up on magic tricks he would perform. He had a coffee mug at the ready, steadily sipping its contents as he read from his magic handbook. He skimmed it for a small note he made to himself.
He couldn’t find it. It wasn’t in the damn book.
“Merde,” He mumbled, “Did I leave it in my suit? Espèce d'idiot!”
He went to his closet to where he hung his uniform to sit after shows and washes, he unbuttoned the coat so he could access the pocket on the inside. He eventually found a paper inside, but not the one he was looking for.
“Quoi?” He pondered as he pulled it out.
It was the receipt from the other day, with her phone number on the back.
He had forgotten to call her. It had somehow slipped his mind.
He scrambled to find his phone, mumbling to himself as he searched his home.
What if she had forgotten about him? It was a one time interaction, what if she was kidding with him? His mind began to spiral as he finally found it.
He frantically dialed the number and the phone began to ring.
…
….
…..
“Hello?” Her voice answered.
“Hello!” He jumped as he began, “It is-”
“Artful!!” She cut off, “Uh, sorry, I meant Jean. Hi, I didn’t expect you to call! Haha…” She giggled awkwardly at her mistake.
He paused for a moment, thinking. The number was real, she didn’t stand him up. His cheeks began to turn a distinct maroon in his flustered state.
“Um,” she began, “Are you still there?”
“Yes! I am Madam.” He spouted as he snapped back to reality.
“Good… Great!” She started again.
She cleared her throat before she said what she needed to ask, her anxiety leaking through the phone to Artful.
“I-I was wondering if you, um, would like to, uh…” She paused, the words refusing to leave her throat.
“Oui? You don’t have to be nervous.” He encouraged her.
“Would you like to, uhm, go out. For dinner. With me?” She finally spouted out her lips.
…
There was silence from either side of the phone.
Artful stared at the phone screen for a moment. Was he willing to risk his fame to go out with a “lovestruck fan” he just met a few days earlier? Was she really that charming to him? The questions spiraled through his mind.
“You don’t have to haha! I was just- um… I-”
“I would love to.” Artful cut off.
“You will? I mean… of course! Yes!! I’m honored!” Fizz squealed from the other side of the phone line, “How does this Friday night sound? At the local Italian place? Are you busy then?” She asked.
“Sounds lovely, Madam.” Artful muttered over the speaker, committing.
“Great! It sounds like a date!!” Fizz spouted, then quickly hung up the phone before she could embarrass herself further.
Artful sat for a moment. He thought for a moment. He was about to go on a date, a real one. He had never really been on many real dates, he wasn’t that popular in high school and, even though he was conventionally attractive, lots of girls stood him up for jocks and other more masculine men. He was a bit of a nerdy guy, being in band and theater and all. But this was real. He was asked out by a real girl!
Let’s just say Fizz wasn’t the only one a little giddy and excited that afternoon.
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For being a magician and owning a suit, Artful didn't have that many clothes he would consider nice date clothes. He mostly owned tacky sweater vests and button ups. He ended up settling with a forest green vest over a white button up and slacks before he went to his vanity to apply some casual makeup.
He stared at himself in the built-in mirror for a moment, staring at his eyeliner, contemplating.
“Qu'est-ce qu'elle penserait?” He kept repeating to himself over and over.
It was one thing for people to see him in his performance makeup, but this, this was different to him. It was just a mask he used to feel better about himself, for others. But one thing powered over all other thoughts in his head: he wanted to impress her, he wanted to be his real authentic self for her.
He made up his mind. He took the time to make sure he was presentable.
He eventually gathered his things and made his way out the door. He gave one final look at the address to the place they had discussed over the phone the other day. He's only ever been to it once or twice with family and some close friends.
It would make for a lovely night.
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Fizz was freaking out. Her room was a mess.
There were dresses and shirts strobed from her bed to the floor, but she had finally settled down to two choices: a puffy, over-the-shoulder, white dress or a light-pink babydoll shirt and some lightwash jeans.
“Ugh!!” She groaned as she placed each outfit in front of herself in her standup mirror, “Why did I do this to myself?!”
She lay herself on her messy bed as she stared at the time on her phone. She had to be at the restaurant soon if she wanted to meet him on time, and time was running out. She kept running each little choice and outcome in her mind over and over until it physically made her sick to her stomach…
She had to make a decision. She couldn’t stand him up.
What would he think if she did that to him?
Would he even care??
Will he even show up to someone as pathetic as her???
…
She forcefully sat herself up to keep herself from spiraling further. She made the quick choice that it wouldn’t matter as much as she thought it would.
She grabbed the white dress.
As long as she looked put together, she would feel put together. That was her logic.
She quickly put her hair up and applied some light makeup.
“Breath,” She repeated to herself as she walked out her door and to her car, “You’re overthinking this! You’ll be fine!”
…
“You’ll be fine…”
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
The sun was beginning to set and the sky had turned a beautiful shade of orangeish-pink. Other dates were walking into the restaurant as Artful stood out front waiting for Fizz to arrive. He had arrived a few minutes earlier than the time they had set, heart racing as he stood.
He was smoking a cigarette to pass the time, watching as the putrid smoke dissipated in the cool, late summer, pre fall air. He was not proud of his habit and tried to keep it on the down low, especially from his fans. He had tried to quit in the past, but to no avail…
Before he could finish though, he saw a figure approach him, it was her…!
He quickly flicked the lit cigarette to the ground and stomped it out before she could see his pathetic habit in his hand, or worse, his mouth.
“Hi! Sorry I’m late!” She started, pausing for a moment to look away, “Traffic was… not great! Haha…” She looked down at her handbag clasped in her hands, she knew it was a pathetic, overused excuse. All she wanted was for him not to find out she was late because she was about to have a breakdown just trying on clothes.
He gave her a pleasant, patient smile and gently took her hand and folded it in his.
“It’s not a problem! Let us go, oui?” He asked her.
“Yes. I would love that!” She answered as they both walked hand in hand into the building.
The establishment was nicely decorated, leaning towards a generic fancy restaurant vibe with candles at each table. The air had a faint smell of the various dishes they served, the meaty smell of grilled steaks and the cheesy smells of alfredo and other pasta dishes.
Overall very pleasant and romantic to the average civilian.
The waiter showed them to their table, a corner booth near a window. It was already dressed with menus and cutlery.
“Would either of you like to get started with a drink?” They asked, pulling out a ticket book and a pen.
“I’ll have a cherry Coke and rum please.” Fizz replied as she opened the menu from the bar drinks page to the appetizers.
“Great choice!” They scribbled down the request and turned their gaze to Artful, “And for you sir?”
“I’ll have a glass of wine.” He replied, fiddling with his sweater collar.
They wrote down his order, “Wonderful! I will be here with your drinks momentarily."
They walked away and shortly after coming back with their drinks. They both thanked them as they walked away to take another table’s order. And soon they were alone, together.
There was an awkward silent tension lingering in the air, only broken up by the sound of plates scraping and distant laughter. Fizz ran her pale finger across the rim of her glass before deciding to break the ice.
“Do… you have any hobbies?” She quizzed, “Besides magic of course!" She laughed awkwardly, taking a larger than necessary swig of her drink, wincing slightly at the alcohol’s taste.
Artful twirled his glass, “Well, I like to golf in my free time if I have the urge…” He pauses for a moment, taking a polite sip of his glass before continuing, “But most of the time I find myself binging cheesy romcoms!” He giggles, covering his mouth slightly.
“I love romcoms! I’ll hate on them sometimes but they always find a way into my heart!” Fizz blushes slightly, thinking about said romance in romance movies.
Fizz had never really been the romantic type, she considered herself aromatic. But though, whenever she watched media with romance or couples, she couldn’t help but be a tad envious. She wanted that type of bond with someone, to be loved, for something to want them in a romantic way that’s different from the usual familial or platonic she usually had.
And she could tell, even if he was surrounded by all of his fans most of the time, Artful craved it too.
Before they knew it, they had both finished their meals, the night drawing to a close. They were so lost in conversation they didn’t notice the steady decline of customers in the restaurant.
Neither of them wanted it to end. They craved more.
“Well,” Artful started, “This was one of the best nights I’ve had in a while.”
“Really?” Fizz said as she gathered their things, “You mean that? I’m sure you’ve had better.”
“Non! C'était fantastique!” He gently cupped her hands into his, wow, she thought, blushing, his hands were so much larger than hers.
She turned her head away, “Heh, I don’t believe you…” she admitted, head now downward, “Why would you want a sad, pathetic fast food worker like me? I’m sure you only went on this date out of pity-”
“Come to my house, ma chérie!” Artful spouted.
Fizz’s head shot up instantly, not sure if she had heard him right. She was at a loss for words! But before she could even spout a “Huh?!” or a “What!?” Artful continued.
“You don’t have to come immediately. Go home, get ready, and come over and I’ll prove I’m serious. S'ilvousplaît!” Artful was basically begging at this point. It made her giggle.
“Ok ok!!” She calmed him, “I’ll come! I’ll… take your word for it…” She smiled softly, blush growing by the second. Soda like hair bubbling at her body’s increasing temperature.
Artful was thrilled! He let go of one of her hands, still clasping the other, as he walked her out of the building and to her car.
They each exchanged a kiss goodbye but they both knew they would see each other soon.
Very soon.
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Artful was busy setting the mood, lighting red, romantic candles, brewing some tea to share, making sure that she was comfortable the whole way through. He always considered himself a good host being he hasn’t heard one complaint yet from friends or family. He has his large tv set to a short playlist of his favorite romance-comedies.
Even if the date somehow manages to fucking suck, at least they can get a few cringe-fueled laughs in.
The magician also made sure to dress for the occasion. He was dawned with a loose black t-shirt, a bonnet, and a pair of sweatpants with his own performance face on it — he had thought it was kind of funny so he wore it on occasion — and patiently waited for Fizz to arrive.
It had been about half an hour later before he heard a soft knock at the door. He walked from the living room where he had been waiting and opened it to find her standing there.
She had been wearing an oversized graphic t-shirt with an ice cream cone on it, short pink shorts, and pink, fluffy slippers. She had a bag thrown over her shoulder, which he presumed was her overnight items.
“May I come in?” She asked awkwardly, fidgeting with her bag.
“Of course.” He responded.
He showed her the way to his living room where she was pleasantly surprised by the effort he had put into her.
“Oh Jean…” She blushed, soda hair beginning to bubble slightly, “You didn’t-”
“For you, Ma chérie.” He planted a kiss on her forehead that could have basically melted her at that point.
They prepared themselves for the first movie, Fizz making herself comfortable on his couch with a throw blanket and Artful bringing in their food and drinks. He hit play on the remote as he sat himself down next to her.
The movie was a bit of a corny pick on his part, but they both didn’t mind.
They laughed.
They cried.
They looked away when the characters gave them both second-hand embarrassment.
They held each other closer during the intimate parts…
Eventually they both became lost in each other, taking in each other’s features. Artful leaning himself against her chest, pulling her in for a deeper kiss than they both have ever experienced. Fizz was nervous, a tad scared even. She had never been this close to anyone before, she could feel his body heat against hers as she cupped his head in her hands.
One thing led to another and he was on top of her now, food and drinks gone, and liquor cabinet freshly raided.
They were both giggling and giving each other freckled kisses on their cheeks and necks.
Their bodies now intertwined, a certain nag was pulling at both of them. And it was in a very intimate part of their bodies.
Fizz didn’t even notice the enlarging lump in his pants at first, she was focused on his beautiful body and face until their bodies began to meet again.
She sat up with a jerk, their heads colliding.
“Ow…” Artful murmured tipsily.
“Sorry!!” She apologized, “I’m just- I- I’m not r-”
“Ready yet?” Artful guessed.
She nodded shyly, looking away with shame.
For being almost 26, she had never been this intimate with anyone before. All of her past relationships were busted or they never kindled the right feelings for each other.
She was still a virgin.
“I want to! I do! It’s just I’m not-” she began to tear up, “I’m scared… and there’s something… else too.” She looked down at her legs.
Artful looking too, he watched as she slowly pulled up the loose shorts revealing…
Scars.
Healed self-harm scars.
They were a soft pinkish red hue against her skin.
She had now begun to sob, it was an ugly, loud sod as she began,
“I’m so *hic* shameful! I did this to myself and for WHAT!? *hic* What in my life has been so HARD? I- *hic* I-”
He planted a kiss on the scared skin on her upper thigh, it sent a shock down her spine.
“You’re beautiful. Don’t let your past drag you to where you don’t feel comfortable. You’re here, healing now, non?”
She paused for a moment before nodding, face still wet and sticky from her sweat, sugary tears.
“Then there’s nothing to be ashamed of, love. I love you for who you are and I always will!”
She looked him deeply in his eyes as he spoke. The feelings she had been bottling up for so long finally spilled out into more tears. But this time they weren’t filled with shame or regret, but with love and appreciation.
For him.
For his kindness.
For his patience.
For…
Loving her. For her.
They fell into one last kiss, embracing each other as they held onto the other’s body as they both drifted to sleep above and below each other.
They didn’t need to be making love or rushing what they already had, they would get there when the time comes. But now, they just needed the other.
Their other half.
The one.