Work Text:
He hates this job. He really does.
Well, that’s not strictly true. Shouta loves art and he thought working in an art gallery would be his dream job, but he forgot how this means interacting with people. And he always seems to get the most irritating people wandering into the gallery when he is at work.
And he hates it.
Such as the lot who were here this morning. They were a group of young school kids on a school trip, accompanied by a hyperactive and loudmouthed teacher, and the whole group were generally just noisy and irritating.
A boy with green hair and freckles was fascinated by the statues, commenting how pretty they were. He was sweet and quiet, but his companion certainly wasn’t.
“Hey, look, you can see his willy!” he said, laughing.
“Kacchan!” the green-haired boy said, blushing. “You can’t say that.”
“Why not?” ‘Kacchan’ said.
“Because it’s rude.”
And the boy called Kacchan swore (how could a kid no older than nine be so rude?), stuffed his hands into his pockets and stalked off. “Whatever.”
On the other side of the gallery, the teacher was talking to a boy with half red, half white hair and a scar on his face, who had his arms folded across his chest and frowned.
“Come on,” the teacher said, nudging him. “It’s interesting, don’t you think?”
“No.”
And the teacher laughed too loud and said, “Yeah, you’re right!”
And Shouta raised his eyebrows, because that was clearly not how you encourage children to like art. But he was distracted when the green-haired boy screamed, and he ran to find Kacchan trying to climb one of the statues.
“Please refrain from touching the artwork,” Shouta said, glaring.
But Kacchan swore at him and Shouta sighed.
Yeah, he hates this job.