Work Text:
There was nothing worse than the finals week for Mona. She was pretty sure she signed up for an education, not to fall into a void of consistent deadlines that she ended up procrastinating on. It wasn't her fault she was busy crying, scraping every corner of her apartment to be able to afford her rent, and she was seriously running out of excuses to get the landlord to extend her rent dues sometimes. Her work pays come in later than she's anticipated, but she's trying her best to save up and to make things flow smoothly for her again.
It made her head practically spin in stars (except for the fact that she genuinely liked the stars so she doesn't think much about it negatively), often sneaking in to make herself coffee that's strong enough to punch her gut awake, or better yet, take her to a trip of insomnia for fifteen days straight. (No, it wasn't actually gonna any better, but then again it would be useful for a stack of requirements that she needs to pass by the end of the week.)
It's what she has to do in order to survive being a broke college student. She sighs, getting the thought off her mind so she can stop stressing for once, and she starts by tightening her high pigtails, as well as fixing the cap on her head. There are things she's finished setting up already this morning, such as starting up the coffee machines, letting the fresh aroma of coffee beans roll through the air-conditioned place. She slid the cup she bought over to the coffee station, still cleaning and making sure there's not much of a mess that interrupts her workflow.
It's currently 7AM, and because her loose class schedules (to make way for studying and resting more until the actual exam week), her first class is in 10:30 AM. Her next class would be after that, until 12:00. Then it breaks until 3PM. In order to stay updated, she has to check her e-mails every now and then or every night. But she ends up standing in front of the coffee machine, dazed while it pours until 5 shots of plain americano, knocking herself back to her senses by placing her laptop on the clean area, opening it to view the requirements that she needs.
The door from the back where staffs tend to come in from rattles as soon as the machine finishes pouring, scooping up a handful of ice and sealing her tumbler shut, making sure the straw is in-place, and moving on to leaning back on the counter, just in time for another one of the workers to still be surprised by the fact that she's here sooner than he was. 'He', being Scaramouche, the guy she's worked with for as long as she's worked here. Seven months. It's been longer than she's thought. "What's with the get-up? You're early today."
"Classes are not until 10, so I can work early today. I'll pack up and make a run for it by 9:50, though." Mona responds, nodding while poking her straw in multiple times, hearing the ice clash with one another, taking another sip. He doesn't mind it until stops abruptly for a moment, turning towards her direction to be sure, but he sighs, realizing just what she has. "Did you get another five shots with ice?"
Busted. She pauses for a moment, hesitantly putting the cup down. "I'll pay for it — You know I sneak in a couple of dollars in there when I get another one." Nervously, Mona responds, trying not to break her character.
"The store isn't full of supplies you can just get, you caffeine addict." He half-jokes.
She clears her throat by gulping down a portion she's sipped, turning back to him, slightly taken aback by what he's said. "It's exam season, and I'm a broke college student working part-time! I'll just be doing this coffee thing for a week or two.." She says in her defense, slightly trailing off at the last sentence with a grumpy tone, watching him finish tying his apron on. "Doubtful. Have you wiped the tables?" He quickly changes the topic before she could process a reaction, and she shakes her head, which allows him to nod, walking over with a short thanks. And then she makes an indignant sound the moment he walks off, turning back to stick his tongue out and to work somewhere farther than where she was.
Scaramouche. Let's backtrack; he's worked in the shop for nearly a year, except only for the benefit of keeping his cash at a specific balance. Unlike Mona, he doesn't actually need to work as much due to the fact that it's almost as manageable for him than it is for her. He tends to come over to work whenever he feels the need to skip school due to maybe some things that he doesn't want to talk about, or end up camping over here than to lock himself inside his apartment in holidays 'cause he'd rather do something than to visit his family, or whatever.
During Mona's first two months here, he didn't actually mind — or care — about her at all, thinking that she's just someone that he has to deal with. There had been multiple catastrophes she's caused on accident, newbie mistakes and all that but he'd usually scold her for it. Except the way they both managed to grow comfortable with one another makes his scolding a little more heavy on the insults, but means it in a light-hearted way — something they got used to with the complex work relationship they had.
They worked together during Christmas, both usually hanging out by the heater in the break room. He was the first to confess about how he'd rather do something than to isolate himself. And then she confesses, talking about how her finances aren't as stable as he's expected. It's grown to be a sort of light-hearted joke between the both of them, talking about the fact that she's broke and he's homeless. Except he wasn't actually homeless, he just refuses to go back to his apartment 'cause he's lonelier that way.
The customers come in once they open, and Barbara comes in from the staff door, greeting Mona and coming back to take charge of the counter. From what she's told her, Barbara got in as a trainee at one of the biggest industries, making sure she has much more than her main balance in order to stabilize herself for when she pays for the dorm charges.
"What's in it for the daily recommendation?" She asks, turning around to look at the astrologist who's currently focusing on her latte art. "Uh — well, iced mocha with caramel syrup?" A little startled, she manages to finish the art perfectly, satisfied enough to smile at it.
"For Ayaka and Mimi!" Mona proceeds to call out, balancing the latte art, a strawberry drink and apple pie, turning around to find out where the customer could be at. But she finds an absolutely stunning woman, flustered and raised her hand to get her attention. Mona just notices now that she was talking to Scaramouche by the counter, noticing her blush grow while apologizing to him, walking over to her.
"Thank you.." Ayaka whispers, giving her a polite little bow, before walking over to a seat by the window beside another girl with pink hair who she heard say "Did he give you his number?"
The barista's smug grin on her face grew, walking over to the drink counter beside his, picking out two pieces of paper that's clip-hung onto a rope. She doesn't look at him, while he focuses on arranging some of the orders on the screen. "So," She began, hearing him hold back a groan, but instead cleared his throat. "Another day, another girl asking for your number, huh?"
"She was only asking about what each drink was like, and it's only natural that I respond, eight-months." Scaramouche responds through gritted teeth, spitting the last nickname as if it were a cuss, still smiling in order to avoid ruining his image in front of literally everyone else looking at him. "Seven, actually." She corrects him, turning over to her opened laptop just by the counter, reading what seems to be an online textbook. "But you should try dating sometime, you have to live a little, ya know what I mean?" Mona leans her back at the counter to organize a bit of her research, looking at him to the side to give him a smile.
But he hesitates — finger laying over the button for a second — looking back at her with a tired expression. She shrugs, putting the stack of paper down on her laptop keyboard. "Pick up at least one of the offers before you can't anymore, old man." She laughs, walking back to the drink counter to where she used to be at.
"I'm only a year older than you!" He calls to her, a little irritated by the way she says it. Sure, he's never dated before, but nor is he planning to. "Still applies, doesn't it?" She replies, smirk visible in her lips. Besides — he takes an opportunity when he sees it.
By the time lunch break rolled in, she stretches her arms up, catching sight of the clock tick to 10:00. She blinks for a moment, realizing she hasn't even packed her things up yet.
With the power of her speed (and fear for a professor that has a high probability of butchering her grades down), Mona manages to pack her things within a blink of an eye. Five blinks, actually.
Laptop delicately back in it's case and immediately dressed up (she layered her work uniform over her casual clothes, except changed her leggings with a black-pleated skirt over a white, oversized shirt), she reaches down her shoes to pull up the back of her shoe to make sure she doesn't trip, or have it taken off. Scaramouche watches as she held onto the backdoor shakily while checking her shoes were fit, his arms crossed, standing up from his seat to go back to his stand. "Trip on your way and humiliate yourself in front of class" He tells her, opening the door.
"Back at you, number dispenser." Mona jokes, smirking back at him before shutting the door and taking off.
He scoffs a little at her response, turning back to step up from the short platform before the tip of his shoe gets caught around an inch over the step, stumbling a little but managing to catch his balance, closing the door before him, acting as if nothing's happened.
Barbara looks at him with a slightly worried expression, holding her question to ask if he was alright back.
☆☆☆
There were multiple things that have happened in class, and one of them is Mona accidentally sleeping throughout an irrelevant discussion of the story of when her professor talks about how his ancestors fought in a huge war, or somewhere along those lines. Her head had been spinning, fried during lunch when all she's ever decided to do was to speedrun a majority of her essays. It was one of the easiest anyway, bullshitting her way through and act as if she knows everything even when she's aware of literally only one fact of the topic.
But it was eventful, and her requirements drop to a hefty amount of twenty-seven, which formerly used to be twenty-eight. It should be something to celebrate about but she sighs because she's tired of squeezing her brain to think of big words, submitting the word document and closing her screen, not bearing to look at it any longer. Twenty-six now, and she feels the need to touch some grass.
Yet, even despite a majority of that, she still manages to maintain a genuine smile to the customers, and serve them nicely, unbothered by the skyscraper of work that she's supposed to pass by the end of next week. She doesn't waver — this is the second time she's done this, it's gonna be the same aside for the fact that she isn't in high-school anymore and is this college student that's struggling with her finances, campus life and with keeping up. But that's okay, because she's a professional at multi-tasking and pushing everything last-minute anyways.
And she realizes there aren't much customers in this afternoon, so she has enough time to finish a portion of her essay, hoping to exert a majority of her energy over to her fingers to finish it within ten minutes. Mona stretches her hands, feeling the joints pop a little, and return to her work with no problem.
"Working in the middle of work? That's new." Scaramouche teases her, watching her type very quickly. She doesn't turn, except pauses to thing about which sentences she can add. "I'm stockpiled with a nice amount of work because I failed a subject last semester, I have to finish these by next week." Mona then responds, writing 10 sentences within what felt like 30 seconds or less.
He pauses for a moment, blinking his eyes, keeping track of the pace she's going at. "Alright, whatever works with you." No longer sticking his nose in, he continues to re-arrange the items in the shelves, taking her word for it.
But that was just day one in the first week of absolutely wrecking her sanity. The next morning kept the same consistency, except she's worked twice as much to be able to maintain a bit of a rest for the day after that. She still slips in her daily 5 shots of fresh-brewed americano in the morning, still maintaining the extremely tight schedule she put up for herself.
The atmosphere of the café was disrupted when a glass shatters, all customers slightly disrupted, and there was Mona keeping Barbara behind her. "Barbara, I know you're an idol trainee. If- If you can just sign—"
"Sir, you're wrecking our property." Mona interrupts him, glaring dangerously at him. But the man ignores this, sticking his notepad towards her, continuing to beg the staff. She nudges Barbara to go back to the staff room, distracting the man by maintaining her sharp stare.
"But—"
"Unless you want us to take legal actions for destroying our property and harassing our employee for something you assume, please leave now. We're giving you a chance to leave the shop before we call in the authorities to kick you out." She continues, being strict with him. He stares at her in disbelief, while the guards by the front door keep their guard up for when he does anything else. "Do you treat all your customers like this?"
Scaramouche enters through the staff door with a completely different atmosphere than before, seeing the shattered mug and spilt coffee on one side, Mona on the other. He walks by the side counter, casually mopping off the spilt coffee and to sweep up the shattered glass, subconsciously listening in.
"You haven't even ordered anything, and you're here causing a commotion because you want to get her to sign a note for you. Sir, we're trying to be the nicest we can to handle the situation, so if you could just—"
A slap was heard loud and clear from across the room, ultimately silencing the crowd. Scaramouche hesitates, freezing for a moment, turning over to face the problem. He turns and catches eye-contact with the security guards, pointing at them to come over and take the individual, eventually putting aside the cleaning materials and walking behind Mona to rest his hand on her shoulder. She relaxes for a moment, releasing the stiffness off her shoulders, turning back to look at the customer.
The guards immediately begin marching towards the individual, but Mona doesn't flicker, menacingly looking him sharp in the eye. Mumbling had spread throughout the store, but she doesn't bother to look while he resists the grip of security.
"You.. do you think public humiliation against an individual would make things any better?"
She doesn't respond, feeling the pain from her cheek surge sharply, watching him get taken and dragged all the way outside. "IF YOU TREAT A CUSTOMER LIKE THIS, YOU'LL LOSE CUSTOMERS! YOU DO REALIZE THAT, RIGHT?!" He begins yelling, the guards gripping strongly on each of his arms. "Stop resisting." One of them spat, tightly walking him out. The man continues to yell derogatory things until he's let go outside the door. By the time he makes it out, Scaramouche could feel her loosen her breath a little, so he pats her back, returning back to work, passing by to whisper "Go and tell her it's safe to go out and take a break.".
Mona looks at him for a moment, back turned and returned to treating the new customers in-line, walking into the staff room.
Scaramouche enters the break room a moment later, tossing her what seems to be a packet of ice in a pattern of small stars over a navy-blue dye, startling her quite a bit, but she manages to catch it. "Your cheeks might keep swelling and you'll look like half a hamster." He joked, smirking slightly when she puts it on her cheek, frowning at him for the comparison. He walks over, placing down a small carton from possibly a fast-food branch.
Mona stares at it for a moment, looking up to him who nudged the container closer to her, looking at the container and into her eyes. The girl blinks, clearly confused by the get-up. "You really think you'll survive half a month with just caffeine and sleep-deprivation?"
But this was something else. It's not like she can just.. accept something like this. And from him. "I can't take this."
"Starve yourself or whatever, I'm not taking it back. And take a day off tomorrow while you're at it, you can't keep doing this to yourself."
Pause.
He was concerned for her?
But it's probably cause of what she had to face this morning, not actually because he cares about her, right?
"Wait, what do you mean by 'I can't keep doing this to myself'?" She asks him before he could go through the door, looking back at her for a moment. "What I mean by that is the fact you're a workaholic. Stop sneaking in schedules to work when it's okay to take a break. The boss has been insisting that you take a break, you're overworking yourself to the core."
"But the more I work, my pay raises, doesn't it? If my payout goes down, how am I supposed to maintain my rent and education?" She looks up to him, horrified over the possibility that she'll have to migrate by the sidewalks, freezing and lost. He looks at her, but she looks back, waiting for an answer.
"Stupid."
That wasn't the answer that she wanted. Mona frowns a little more, taken slightly aback. "You're stupid. Do you really think you'll be evicted the moment you get off work or sleep a full eight hours?" But surprisingly, she nods in response, and he's disappointed. "Look, you need to take a break. Come back when you've lessened your load or when it's breathable, you'll break at this composure"
"What? But it is breathable, and I can't keep going to tell my landlord to extend my rent. It's due next week, and if I don't have enough money for another month, I'll be as good as gone." Mona continues to insist, making it sound as if everything's at a stable flow and if she makes one mistake, her life is over. "Listen, I'm a professional at last-minute work and at catching myself on edge. I've done this multiple times before, it's nothing new."
He sighs in defeat, staring at her. "Fine, but stop starving yourself. Eat while working on your essays." And before she could process a reply, he shuts the door, leaving her hanging.
Yeah, she was confused. Mostly because he's never genuinely expressed or told her that she needs to take care of herself. It takes a while to know what he's just said and she's questioning just what went down, or if it's cause she started hallucinating. Maybe she did feel her heart skip a bit, but flushes it down with coffee, shivering at the immediate moment she swallows. Trying not to let it get to her too much, she puts down the ice packet beside her laptop, and continues writing down the rest of her essay.
The rest of the days drift slowly in little events, but it progressively becomes worse.
Mona managed to sleep for around five hours tonight, getting up immediately to get started on her thesis. She keeps her bubbly aura around her customers, still very strict when it comes to continuing paragraphs and piles of research. She tries to manage her time to finish a bit more than usual this time, hoping she finishes it by tomorrow, consuming the meal Barbara cooked up for her.
In another day, Mona stares at the time, losing a fragment of time only to realize that it's gotten dark pretty quickly. 5:30 PM, she saw the clock glow. She went over the switches by the window near the front door, the golden hour of sunrays highlighting delicate parts of her hair and face. Scaramouche watches her under the sunlight, shaking off a thought immediately and turned back to continue working.
Then another, where she's barely even talked to any of the staffs anymore, aside from greeting them, immediately rushing to help customers when they need it, leaving either Barbara or Scaramouche hanging when they try to reach out to her. They'd often look at each other out of concern, seeing her keep working, but often watch her tremble sometimes (which may most likely come because of how much americanos she's consumed within the past week).
They knew she was a workaholic, but this is the most she's ever pushed herself, each day multiplying the amount of round she's had.
And another day comes by, and she groans in indignance, clearly frustrated over her work, except she immediately stands up and begins typing on her laptop while standing up, possibly muttering affirmations like 'I'm fine' and 'I can do this' over and over. Barbara looks at her longingly for a moment, about to approach her only to be distracted by a customer dictating their order. The concerned trainee retracts, tending to the customer immediately.
Scaramouche would often try to stop her by taking the tray she's holding, but Mona just continues on by bowing a little and went back to the counter, returning as if he's resumed that role for her.
She barely even hangs out at the break room anymore, due to the fact she's making it so difficult to approach. He considers going through lengths to know how she's doing, but he decides to stay quiet for now, observing her movements from the side.
☆☆☆
Then another day comes by, she slips in two dollars into the cashier, turning back to weakly make her coffee, but gets stopped when her fellow employee grabs her tumbler from her, transferring the ice in a medium-sized bowl, eventually filling up the cup with water, handing it over to her without a word. She takes it, confused. "Drink it."
Mona follows, nodding before drinking up the water slowly, feeling a huge splash of refreshment hit her body. He puts his hand out as if he was asking for the tumbler back, and she hesitantly gives it to him. "Do you prefer tea or something sweet?" He asks, looking at her in those drawing chromatic eyes, but she freezes up for a moment, still a little flustered. "Oh- uh.. I think tea should be okay..?"
Without question, he walks over to the other counter, bringing the bowl with him. They haven't opened up the store yet and it's 8AM, their opening time. She notices this, slightly panicked, walking over to open the store, only to be stopped when Scaramouche responds with "Don't.". He started sprinkling a generous amount of dried herbal tea leaves over the ice, adding a bit more ice over it but still watched as it melted. "If you can't help it, just open the window blinds and arrange the chairs."
She doesn't dare to question him, slightly intimidated by the way he's acting. Mona still continues to follow his suggestions — the little things that can help her stay busy because she can't afford to stay still.
After a while, Scaramouche called her back behind the counter, pouring the tea that's melted into the ice over a strainer on her tumbler, taking the strainer off to pour in honey, mixing it with a stirring spoon. Mona watches in curiosity, while he added the final touch of a bit of ice on top, finally sealing it shut with her straw inside of it, handing it over to her. "Coffee will suck out your soul, if it hasn't been sucked out already. Green tea can reenergize and hydrate you, so stick with that."
She takes her tumbler back, being handed back the extra dollars she put in the counter, figuring that things were progressing way too fast for her to catch up.
And without giving her a chance to respond, he passes by her and opens the store for them, leaving her standing there with a cup of refreshing green tea in hand. Mona can't figure out what's going on at all, but decided to sip the drink, surprised at how much it's cleansed her a bit, but left it by the counter to help set up the screens in the cashier area.
But it gets hectic again for the following days. Mona found it difficult to make the drink, or to approach Scaramouche to make her green tea because of the underlying feeling that she needs to work, so she resorts back to five shots of espresso with ice. Except the only difference is that she made sure she drank a glass of water before making Satan's sweat.
Barbara takes a day off because of an important event going on in her industry, and they have yet to deal with another dissatisfied customer, who had then made Mona kneel on the floor. The miserable part of being a staff is lacking a few authorities in order to stand up for themselves.
☆☆☆
Scaramouche stops by the staff room at the end of the day, slightly taken aback while seeing her lie down on her laptop. He sighs, walking towards her to check if she isn't already dead yet.
He squats down on the floor, looking up to her face to see her rest, almost thankful she's fallen asleep. But then he glimpses, seeing her knees both scratched and bruised. He knew something like this was gonna happen when he saw her kneeling down, slightly irked by the fact he didn't come to help her at that moment, yet still had two band-aids ready in case she was actually bruised.
First he numbs off her knees by running the ice packet he previously gave her over them, watching her flinch a little in her sleep, hesitant of whether she'll wake up or not. Nonetheless, he continues, applying a bit of antiseptic on the tip of his index finger, putting two little dots over her knees, eventually gently dabbing it over to spread over her knees, eventually sealing the bandage neatly over it.
He places down a small bag over the table in front of her, pulling away the laptop from her grasp, looking at it to find a bunch of spaces. He closes the laptop because it's none of his business, setting it beside her. He also takes a blanket from one of the lockers and carefully put it over her to keep her from freezing in place.
But then he sees her still holding her tumbler, slowly lifting it away from her hand to find out it was empty. Scaramouche eventually walks back behind the door, planning to make the same drink he did the last time.
Moments later, Mona wakes up confused, slightly questioning her existence and her position in the world, feeling a comfortable blanket draped over her shoulders slip down to her shoulders. Well, she notices a lot of things different from when she passed out on her things, such as her laptop neatly set-aside, some bandages over her knees that she doesn't remember putting on, her tumbler, a meal that still, by the looks of it, is freshly put, and Scaramouche sleeping just across the table beside her.
It takes a moment before it sinks in that there was actually someone there in front of her, leaving it off with a sudden 'oh', not knowing how to react. She looks around the room, shivering a little the moment the cold air comes in-contact with her bare skin.
She succumbs in the peaceful silence for a while. There's the ambience of the night and cars coming across playing lowly at the back, the sound of the air-conditioner running, and she just sits there with a blank look, not knowing what to do now. It eventually dawns onto her that she still has her whole thesis to finish and twelve mix of requirements, rubbing her eyes after a moment, sipping from her tumbler out of habit only to realize it wasn't actually empty, but filled with what she's secretly craved for the past few days.
The rest of her stress comes by after a minute, realizing that she only has until tomorrow night to get everything finished. She's lost track of how much times she's held back so much of her tears, shaking away the thought of it by sniffling a little, plucking her feelings out of her system.
"You're awake." Scaramouche says all of a sudden, making her jump a little, wiping away a tear that slipped out immediately, turning over to see him already looking up at her. "You're awake," She hesitantly responds, a little late into thinking about what she wanted to say.
He chuckles a little — the first she's heard in a while — brushing his bangs up a little and sitting up properly. "You haven't talked in a while, space girl. What was that about?" And the nickname knocks her back, thinking about just how refreshing it was to hear it one more time. She trembles for a moment, unable to look him in the eye after that. "Uh. I— um.. Busy."
Scaramouche yawns, standing up from his seat, the sound of the chair creaking echoing around the room, pushing it back and walked in front of her, crouching down to make her look at him. "The last time you were busy, you were complaining about your miserable state to Barbara." She gulps, seething a little at the thought. He waddles a little closer to her, holding her hands within his thumb and index fingers loosely, making sure their eye-contact was never breaking.
"Talk to me. What's up?"
She doesn't realize this, but a tear rolls down her eye as she looks into his eyes. He's overwhelmed with sincerity, from the way he looks at her, to his touch, to the way he asks her. But then she realizes he's been trying to hold himself back from asking what was wrong for the past few days because she was so occupied with working.
"What do you mean? You don't normally act this way, you've been concerning lately and I've been fine.." She asks, laughing nervously, trying her best to divert the topic. "You know exactly what I mean."
She pauses. Until another moment passes by, her grin slowly fading when another tear rolls down, sniffling. She wipes it away by taking one hand away from his hold, looking elsewhere. And it's all slowly pouring down, a hiccup escaping her lips, struggling to hold back. Scaramouche shushes her, standing up from his position and pulls her slowly to stand up, bringing her close and hugged her tightly, but that's where she broke.
"I told you you won't be able to handle the stress." He sighs, comforting her by patting her back, noticing just how much of the same height they were now. "You stupid."
She began sobbing on his shoulder, beginning to tremble a little more. "S-stop calling me stupid.." Mona says through her tears, muffled through his shirt. "No, 'cause it's unbelievable just how stupid you are." The girl hums a little angrily onto his shoulder, and he laughs quietly, still holding her in his grasp.
A little frustrated by it, the astrologist wiggles up from his grasp, looking at him with a flustered expression but he's just looking at her with a smirk on his face. "I- I hope you know t-that I hate you. You're- you're so annoying.."
He lifts a hand to cup her cheek, leaving her slightly confused. This was different, he wasn't supposed to do this. He was just supposed to call her stupid because of the programmed conversation in her head, blinking her eyes multiple times and her tears drying up immediately.
He looks sincerely into her eyes, seeing the way they twinkle through the dim-lit area, admiring her features up-close. "You even look stupid." She takes back whatever she just thought, frowning a little more than she used to. They were standing in the middle of the break-room at a café, arms wrapped around her, his feet tip-toeing a little for him to be slightly taller than she is for the time-being.
He likes the way her eyes glitter despite the room being dark and cold. "But that doesn't mean I don't like it." Warmth. She reminds him of home than his home ever did, pulling her back into a hug. She smells like lavender.
"You're acting weird lately." She sniffles, pulling away to look up at him. "Hey, is being a little considerate all that out of character?" He asks, but she nods without hesitation, innocently staring into his midnight eyes. But he lets go of her abruptly, the warmth leaving almost instantly. "H-hey!"
"What? You like hugs now?" Scaramouche laughs a little, watching her stare at him with a mortified expression — almost surprised of what just came out of her mouth. Mona retracts from what she was about to say, closing her mouth shyly, continuing to pack her things. Except, he stares at her, almost expectant of something. He shrugs it off, rubbing a slight itch on the tips of his ears which appears lightly red from a distance.
They decide to lock up the store and walk to the bus stop together, both getting into a casual conversation to shrug off what just happened. There were multiple giggles here and there, the way he'd nervously scratch the back of his neck, and the way she just smiles at him smugly.
He liked keeping things the way they are — just casual, friendly, nothing over the line, too deep or too shallow. It was a comfortable relationship, just a runaway to when he doesn't want to think too much about working or make it more stressful for him. He wasn't a drop-out, just staying out of college for reasons he prefers not to go over.
Being with her helped him felt safer, how she jokes around whenever someone asks for his number, the way he'd tease her for the littlest things, it was simply lighthearted. Calm. They don't take things too seriously, nor did they have severe conflict besides her early working days where she had to bear through the way he scolds her.
And it wasn't any different for her, enjoying the simple atmosphere with him even despite having close college friends like Keqing who she talks to here and there.
What they both have in common is the fear of getting rid of their relationship just going everywhere, turning into a mess or breaking apart. Scaramouche doesn't want to advance and end up making things awkward, and Mona's scared of doing something that makes it look like she's interested in him in some form of way. She doesn't, but it's not like she also wouldn't mind dating him, except she hasn't thought that far yet.
There's that fleeting thought that goes over her head like the breeze whenever she feels her knuckles slightly brush past his, or a sudden urge to just grab it. None of them say or bring anything up about their feelings for one another, silently agreeing about never making it a topic.
He tends to find himself looking at her in a way he's forced himself to think is a way that he isn't or never is supposed to. Yet without even trying to bring any of this up, they still laugh, stay as friends, even if it takes as long as either one of them gets into a relationship soon.
But they arrive at the bus stop sooner than they expected, still chatting it out until the bus comes by, Mona letting out a sigh, checking the time through her phone. "It's gotten pretty late." She mumbles, looking over the direction where her apartment is located in. Scaramouche hums, looking over to the direction she's faced. "Do you want me to walk you over?" He offers, still carrying her backpack on his shoulder over his duffel bag. "Will it be too much to ask?" Shyly, she responds, a little too embarrassed to have him help her more than she ever has.
"Oh, you don't want me to?"
"N-no! I mean, you've been going through everything, buying me food and all, I think that you've weighed it out a little too much on being even, and then..." She continues to ramble, panicked, her hands going everywhere. But to him, she's helped her more than she's ever known. He manages to grab both her wrists with one hand, pulling her close to get her to shut up, and it works effectively. It stays quiet for a moment, until he turns his expression into a smirk, and her heart skips a beat unintentionally, not knowing where it came from.
"You don't fit flustered, northern star." Scaramouche comments, pulling himself away from her, subtly taking a deep breath and pondered if that was over the line or not. "And you don't fit boyfriend, astrological-denier." Mona mocks him, crossing her arms, looking elsewhere to regret her decision later.
"You- the.. uh, umm.. Stupid." He blurts out in panic, but doesn't let his panic show, except for the fact that it's painfully obvious and it stays silent between them for a minute. Two minutes. Five minutes..
"I'd actually appreciate it if you walked me back.." Mona breaks the ice sheepishly, still avoiding his eye contact like he did with her, clearing his throat. "Yeah, let's go."
Having enough of the awkwardness they had back there, they casually grew back to talking to each other, trying not to think about the fact she jumped in to call his behavior similar to a boyfriend's — but she's never had a boyfriend before. She's had only one date, and it was a playdate when she was a toddler.
They make it there, with her thanking him and seeing him tomorrow, and so did he.
The first thing Mona does when she enters her apartment is close the door behind her quietly, pressing her back onto the door and sliding down for a moment, letting out a shaky breath. What was wrong with her? How did she manage to fuck up twice and how did she get away with it?
She pats her cheeks, leaving her hands cupping her face for a moment, the coldness of her hands oxymoron to the heat that came from her cheeks, wondering if he's seen her blush like this. The flustered girl stares blankly across the dark room, still weak to be opening her lights while the thoughts of the events that consistently wrecked her throughout the day haunted her. She felt mixed for a moment or two, which she eventually realizes is the rest of the day.
The difference in texture of the bandages on her knees come in contact with her elbows, now paying more attention to what looks like a black cat-patterned patch. Has he always had these types of bandages?
The last time she recalls she had an injury was around her shin area, lightly joking about how the band-aids he had were plain and he shoots back at her by complaining about why she's so picky.
She stares at her knees for a moment, opening her phone's front screen to have light for a moment, and her eyes did not deceive her. There were, in fact, patterns of black cats over it, but she notices the little smudges on the edges and how messy it appeared from up-close, but doesn't pay any mind to it. There were cat patterns, and it's all that mattered.
The girl stays on the floor just for a moment longer, maybe seriously reconsidering some things. Her eyes still felt puffy from earlier, but she pays no mind to that, holding onto her shins for however long she felt.
☆☆☆
"Monaaa!!~" Barbara calls in enthusiasm as she opens the door, spotting no Mona.
She blinks for a moment, looking back into the break room — nothing.
What the trainee did manage to spot was Scaramouche, starting on his shift by taking in a few orders. She blinks for a moment, going across the door to make some drinks as he did. "Hey Mascara, did Mona say anything about being late?" She whispers when he treats the last customer, responding bitterly with "Why does it matter?"
Barbara furrows her eyebrows slightly and sighs, spraying the whipped cream over the filled cup. "Same as ever." She mumbles under her breath to an extent to purposely let him know, turning around to state the name and order of the written text on the cup that she calls out. Scaramouche slightly peeks from the lockscreen of his phone to check if he's gotten anything from her, slightly concerned she hasn't even turned up yet.
"Huh?" He heard Barbara hum, remaining unbothered by what she does by pulling out two pieces of paper from the rope, writing down the orders in the cups respectively. "Mona's taking a day off?"
His hand stops mid-way through inserting ice from the cup, freezing for a moment to think. The other employee looks over to him, a little startled that he's suddenly stopped. "Mona's taking a day off today. That's new, right?"
When she thought he was about to speak about it, he continues putting in the ice, walking over to the machine, hearing her sigh audibly in exasperation, continuing to tend to the customer with a bright smile. "Barbarian, I think it's good that she's resting. She has a deadline to finish by tonight." He says through the sound of the blender, and she turns around, a little confused. "What? Did you say anything?"
Scaramouche stays silent, pouring the drink inside the cup, making her impatient. Even despite being concerned, it wasn't like he had the right or position to be invading her space to reach out to her, maybe he's even reached out enough last night or over. He shrugs the thought off his mind, continuing to work to respect her space while she's away — it's the first break she's had in a while, after all.
By the end of the day, Scaramouche tells Barbara that they should rest for a bit too, open up a little later than usual.
She agrees to this decision, replacing the words of the chalkboard outside with their notice of opening late. They both manage to lock and secure the store, then parting ways to go home, just noticing out how exhausting it'd be when Mona isn't around.
It happens for another day, making them temporarily shorten the working times in order if it's just the two of them working to manage well and take a break, and the days have been feeling longer than they've anticipated, concerned that it's gone on for another day.
☆☆☆
Scaramouche managed to wake up a little earlier, twisting the knob of the backdoor and brought his keys out, only to find out that the door had already been opened. He felt his heart sink for a moment prior to realizing so, recalling yesterday if he managed to lock it correctly, and he did.
He opens the door, a little suspicious of the already-lit room, placing his bag over the chair, music playing from all around the store.
Barbara enters the door a moment later, confused why he's left the door open. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be taking their orders?" She asks, putting her things in front of her locker and closing the door behind her, taking her uniform off the hanger in her opened locker to get dressed.
"I.. just got here." The employee says, still a little confused. She hums a little, lifting her hand-bag into the locker and locking it up. "Did you forget to turn off the radio system?"
"No, I'm pretty sure I did. And the door was unlocked when I came here."
They both pause for a minute, hearing a bustling noise outside. Barbara looks at him for a moment, and to her uniform, a little confused. "Huh. Did the boss hire a new employee?" It was slightly starting to make sense, but if their boss did hire anyone else, wouldn't they have been told about it?
"It isn't matching up, if she hired anyone else, she would've told us about it earlier." Scaramouche says, eventually walking over to the door. She was still a little confused about all of this, leaving her uniform loosely hanging on her locker door, finding it a little too fast to catch up with anything. She just woke up and she was already required to think.
They stand in front of the door for a moment, besides the fact that Barbara was the skeptical one, a little hesitant to open the door, but he does so with ease greeted by different lights from all around.
The music was playing much clearer now, watching a figure in front of them work with fast hands with a line of customers, setting the blenders to blend automatically and rush from side to side, making different types of coffee and tea at the same time. "Next customer, please!" The figure calls out in a familiar tone, both dumbfounded to be hit with familiarity. She turns around, pausing for a moment, seeing the two employees stare at her in sudden realization.
"You guys open pretty late when I'm gone, huh? Guess I do everything in here." Mona says, multiple cups pressed together by her fingers, a smirk playing across her face — one that hasn't been seen in a while. Barbara chokes up in tears, running towards her immediately, yelling her name.
She quickly puts the cups aside to avoid making much more of a mess than the last time, giggling a little when she hugs her tightly, feeling her sniffle on her shoulder. "Y-you can't leave me like that again!" She sobs, barely having the time to care about how she isn't in uniform and how she's in front of a line of customers, crying. "Barbara, I have some orders to finish, can you cry later?" She whispers sheepishly, working her way through to at least pour ice into the cups, trying not to make a mess on the counter.
"What's up with the line of customers?" Scaramouche grumbled, miraculously emerging from the staff room to turn all the blenders off quickly, going through the cups quickly to find out which drink goes in which. "Sale. Turned some prices down with the boss' command, she also said she'll pay us bigger wages if we manage to make such a huge sale since there's a concert nearby." Mona says, stripping Barbara off her, who seems a little too dazed to be processing what she's just said.
"Let me guess, this is wave 1?" He asks, sealing away the line of drinks he has, sliding them over the counter flawlessly, reciting each name to pick-up.
"Barely even wave 1, I heard they're a popular duo going around here." She manages to say, pouring cold water into certain cups. "Oh — and I started thirty minutes ago, I'm gonna get the sales faster than any of you can." Mona triumphantly boasts with a grin on her face, placing drinks onto a tray by the counter, going back to take a few more that she's already made. "You should've said so sooner!" Barbara responded, rushing over to get dressed, leaving only the both of them and their adrenaline into keeping their drinks freshly-brewed and true to the temperature.
"You're crazy for opening the shop early and starting a sale on a popular concert." He laughs, shaking the whipped cream dispenser and going for it. "I'm always up for a challenge." She responds back, rushing over to the fridge to dump three more dispensers into a separate ice box that had some chilled materials.
"The one with the most sales win?" He suggests, holding out a fist when Barbara entered the room and shut the door behind her, all so close to one another as if they were huddling.
"Let's get the party started!" The trainee joins in, all just waiting for her to join in it.
Mona giggles a little, finding it silly that they've formed this handshake. She puts her fist out to complete a triangle, trying not to burst over the fact that this has been the busiest they've been — or at least their first full-store sale in such a long time.
She looks at Scaramouche for a moment, deciding what it's gonna be for now. It probably wasn't about how she felt for him romantically,
"You're on."
But rather how she — under any circumstance — would never want to lose someone like him in her life.