Chapter Text
Commie’s apartment was just about the most chaotic place on earth. MarxFem tried her best to keep everyone under control, but it was just about impossible to keep Posadist, Nazbol, and FALGSC all in line. However, MarxFem was far better at tolerating noise than Commie was. He’d managed to find a solution though. There was a small cafe with free wifi and a table near the back that could fit Commie’s computer, books, and whatever loose paper he had, and that was all he needed. Commie loved Posey, Naz, and Fal very much, but they could just be so overstimulating sometimes.
He usually ended up ordering a couple of black coffees throughout the day, if not just to keep himself functioning at a normal level. Commie was aware it was probably hypocritical, considering he was against capitalist grind culture, but he had to get these articles done… It was tiring, but he genuinely loved the work. Political theory, and Marxism-Leninism especially, was everything to him.
There only ever seemed to be one barista, a small person that Commie couldn’t discern the gender of for the life of him. The first few times he’d come in, they’d hovered behind the counter the whole day, always watching him anxiously with bright green eyes, but by the end of the second week, they’d seemed to have decided that it wasn’t worth keeping up the appearance that they gave a shit about their job and started sitting on the counter and listening to music while scrolling through Twitter. The two of them made eye contact a few times, but one of them always looked away quickly. Commie didn’t have a huge problem with eye contact, but he never really knew when to make it.
He’d never actually even seen them wear a uniform, if there even was one. They always just wore a dark green hoodie with cat ears, a bandana loosely tied around their neck, jeans of some varying level of distress, and combat boots. He would’ve thought a nametag would at least be required, but evidently, it wasn’t, so he was left to simply refer to them as ‘cute barista’.
And they were. They were quite frankly adorable. Bright green eyes, dark brown curls that spilt everywhere, tiny red and black flags messily painted on their nails, and a small frame that made them look about half as old as they probably were.
Commie got the vibe that they weren’t exactly the best in the world at their job, if he was honest. He’d seen several other customers get frustrated with their coffee and some even yelled at them for making it wrong, but they always made his perfectly, so he wasn’t all that fussed. Commie did wish that he could somehow help when people were being crummy, though… He wasn’t exactly sure what he could do. Did it even really matter? He wasn’t sure.
They seemed like a genuinely sweet and kind human being, someone you’d know and wonder how they managed to stay so positive and friendly. At least to Commie. Once, a customer made a rather rude comment about the small rainbow pin on their hoodie, and they tossed back an easy: “Careful, Karen, being so concerned about a stranger’s relationships when your marriage is falling apart is a tad hypocritical, dontcha think?” Their smirk was brilliant, and he swore he’d remember it forever. The confidence, the ease, the coldness… It was somewhat cruel, but damn him if it wasn’t attractive.
Commie was ridiculous, wasn’t he? He hadn’t even had a proper conversation with them. (Even if he had the confidence to start one, he didn’t know what they’d talk about. Would they listen to him talk about politics? He was good at that.) He didn’t even know their name . It was foolish to let himself develop any sort of feelings for someone he knew practically nothing about. Hell, it was foolish to let himself develop any sort of feelings at all! But god, the sweet smile they gave him when he left each day, with a cheerful “Have a nice night!” always left his heart fluttering in his chest.
Commie shook his head, trying to refocus on the book in his hands. He’d read three pages without absorbing a single thing. He frowned, looking back down at the page. It shouldn’t be this difficult to focus, but his mind just kept drifting back to the barista. He sighed, closing the book in frustration and setting it on the table next to his chair.
“Are you alright?” MarxFem asked from her perch on the couch, looking at him from over her laptop.
“I just… It’s nothing,” He said, bringing a hand to awkwardly rub at his neck. She raised an eyebrow sceptically, clearly unimpressed with his answer. He bounced his knee, looking down at his hands.
“Commie, come on. I know when you’re bullshitting me. What’s wrong? Something’s on your mind.”
“It’s really nothing.” MarxFem rolled her eyes, crossing her arms.
“Commie,” she said testily. “You’re not making yourself look innocent here.”
“Ugh, you’re right, I can’t fool you. It’s just… I mentioned the coffee shop I spend all day at, right? Well, it’s just… The barista that works there is just really cute and sweet and… I might have a bit of a crush,” He said, looking down at his lap and pressing a hand to his throat. MarxFem shook her head, smiling slightly.
“Don’t let Fal hear you say that, he’s going to be excited,” she laughed slightly.
“When is he not?”
“Pff, fair point. What’s their name?”
“They don’t wear a nametag,” he mumbled.
“Okay, maybe find that out. Just don’t be a creep, okay? I know you wouldn’t, but you get what I mean.”
“Yes, I do. I can’t imagine they would particularly appreciate that.”
“Speaking as someone who has had many creeps harass her, it is not fun.” She grimaced, shuddering dramatically.
“Right…” Commie trailed off, running his fingers over the glossy cover of his book. “God, MarxFem, I can’t stop thinking about them. My mind just… keeps drifting back to them. What’s wrong with me?”
“What?! I hope not, I just, I can’t, I can’t handle that.”
“Hey, hey, it’s going to be okay, Commie. Everything’s going to work out, I promise.”
“No, no, I can’t, I can’t let that happen, I can’t do that, I can’t fall in love again. MarxFem, I have to stop this, I can’t let this happen again.”
“No, Commie, you don’t. You don’t have to stop it. It’s okay. I promise.”
“But last time—”
“Things don’t have to be the same. They can be different. They don’t sound anything like him to me. They sound very different.”
“I’m worried.” Commie’s voice was hoarse as he spoke, closing his eyes tightly to try to ward off the images threatening to float across his mind.
“I know. But it’s going to be okay. I promise. And I’m always happy to kick someone’s ass for you.”
“Heh… Thanks, MarxFem.”
“Any time, Commie. Any time.”
Ancom hated qir job. Qi really fucking hated qir job. Could you really blame qim? Ancap was just about the worst fucking boss of all time. Qi’d been working at that stupid shop for the past three years, and he didn’t even pay qim minimum wage. It was such bullshit. Qir autism diagnosis counted qim as legally disabled, which meant Ancap could pay qim below minimum wage, which already wouldn’t be enough to live on, but this made it even worse. Ancom wasn’t even good at qir job, the only reason he hadn’t fired qim yet was because of the wage thing.
There was just about one good thing about qir job. Not a thing, per se, but a person. He was a new customer, had just started coming in a few weeks ago, but he came in every single day, worked in the corner, and didn’t say anything to anyone, outside of ordering a black coffee about every hour. Ancom knew him as Commie, which had taken qim several tries to decode off of his receipts. (His handwriting was rather messy.) He had a rather pronounced Russian accent, which always made Ancom smile slightly, reminding qim of the similar accents qir parents had had. He was quiet and introverted, and qi honestly wasn’t sure how he seemingly survived on nothing but coffee, coming in the shop when it opened at 6 am, and leaving when it closed at 9 pm, ordering nothing but black coffee. Qi hoped he was at least eating SOMETHING at home…
Beyond him though, the job was shit. Customers would pull petty power trips, seemingly getting off on making Ancom perform some needlessly complicated task and bitching at qim if qi fucked up, which qi often did. Remembering all the stupid instructions was hard, okay? Qi also got the occasional homophobic, ableist, or transphobic comment, but those honestly bugged qim less than the usual hostility. The bigots would have been shitty no matter what. The people being horrible for no other reason than the fact that qi was a person they had power over just depressed qim. Qi couldn’t understand for the life of qim how people could be so… careless. So cruel. Did they even see Ancom as a person? Qi wasn’t sure. Maybe Ancom should have been used to not being seen as fully human by now, but qi just wasn’t. It wasn’t fair. It didn’t make sense. Qi just wanted everyone to be happy. How could someone’s worldview be so selfish? Qi couldn’t even begin to comprehend it.
At least life outside the coffee shop was still decent. Ancom and qir sister, Anysn, had recently adopted a pair of kittens, Sabotabby and Kropotkitty. (They thought they were pretty good at naming animals.) (They weren’t.) Their older cat, Anarkitty, had seemed a bit sceptical of the two new kittens at first, but she quickly warmed up to them. The three cats could often be found cuddled up with each other in various places, or chasing each other around the apartment at top speed, or sprawled out in the sun together. Because Ancom and Ansyn were completely broke, they shared a bedroom. All five of them slept on the same bed, Ancom on the left, Ansyn on the right, Kropotkitty curled up on Ancom’s chest, Sabotabby draped across Ansyn’s neck, and Anarkitty sprawled on her back between the two of them. Ansyn and the cats were the best thing in qir life, and probably the only reason why qi wasn’t literally dead. Life was fucking exhausting.
At least the past week had been okay. It wasn’t great, but it certainly wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Qi’s been trying to work up the courage to talk to Commie, to try to actually get to know him, but qi wasn’t sure how to actually… start a conversation. Small talk wasn’t qir strong suit. What was qi even supposed to talk about? The weather? Why did people talk about the weather anyway? It wasn’t very interesting. Ancom wanted to have real conversations. Talk about politics, oppression, the struggles of life under capitalism, mental health, things that were deep and interesting. Why did other people not get that? Talking about work or school or whatever, that was just dull. Ancom would never understand other people. Qi wanted to talk to him, but would qi come off as annoying? Creepy? They didn’t exactly have a real relationship, just one of a barista and customer, but they spent so much time together every single day, even if they never actually talked… He just seemed really kind. He would glower across the cafe at anyone who was shitty to qim, he tipped really well, and he had a couple of stickers on his laptop that told Ancom he was pretty damn cool. There was a hammer and sickle, a small trans flag, a he/him pronoun sticker, an mlm pride flag, and an antifascist symbol. Anyone with that combination of stickers was probably pretty fucking cool. He spent every single day writing on his laptop, almost entirely silent except for the clacking of keys and the occasional small noise of frustration. Qi always wondered what he was writing. It must have been pretty damn engaging because he hardly ever looked up from the screen. Qi wasn’t sure how he managed to focus like he did, qi had problems even reading a book sometimes. Ancom desperately wanted to know him, but qi just… wasn’t sure how to do that. Qi felt safe with him, and qi didn’t want to lose that. What if something went wrong? What if he stopped coming to the shop? It was just safer to not mess with the relationship, qi figured. (Relationship might be a strong word, but it was the only word qi had)
Qi hoped he’d be there tomorrow. He always was, but qi was never quite sure. Maybe he would decide to take that Monday off or something? It didn’t make sense, but so it was. He only showed up about every other Sunday, and this was one where he didn’t come. Even though it was just one fewer person, the place still felt much emptier without him. Ancom could hardly muster a fake smile for the customers and was pretty sure qi accidentally glowered at a few of them. The day was always just exhausting without him there.
Ancom closed the shop about a half-hour earlier than usual, it wasn’t like many people showed up at 8 pm on a Sunday to get coffee anyway. The walk home was nice at least, a cool breeze in the air whispering promises of spring coming back. Many of the trees had small buds beginning to form on their bare branches, marking the spots where small blossoms would pepper them, pale pink blooms covering the formerly lifeless bones. Watching the world come back to life after winter was always a joy. Clovers would cover the grass, dandelions would force their way through the sidewalk, and blossoms would appear, covering most of the trees and bushes. It was just… beautiful.
When qi reached the apartment building, any energy qi gained from the cool breeze was sapped away. The building was always too warm or too cold, asbestos peeked from behind the drywall, and lightbulbs flickered. The building wasn’t fit to stand, much less live in, but the rent was cheap and it was close enough to the shop. There weren’t many good options. As qi unlocked and pushed open the door, the three cats all but swarmed qim. Ancom couldn’t help but laugh as they circled around qir feet, looking up at qim with huge eyes. “Hello girls,” qi smiled, reaching down to scratch each of them behind the ears. Qi flopped on the couch, unzipping qir hoodie and tossing it on the table before unlacing qir boots and kicking them off. Qi closed qir eyes, allowing qimself a few moments of peace. One of the cats hopped up on qir chest, purring loudly as she put a paw on qir cheek. “What do you want?” Qi asked, opening qir eyes to look at Anarkitty. Anarkitty blinked. Ancom wasn’t sure what qi was expecting, to be honest. “Do you want pets?” She blinked again. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Qi pet her gently, scratching her behind the ears and at the base of her tail. “Happy?” She trilled slightly, shifting to curl up and closing her eyes. “Oh, is it naptime now? Am I your bed?” Ancom smiled, closing qir eyes again as Anarkitty drifted off.
Qi stayed like that for a while, letting qir mind just relax. Qi wasn’t sure how long it was, but it was nice to just have a bit of a break. “Long day?” Ansyn’s voice startled qim slightly, and qi looked up at her as she stood over qim.
“Heh, yeah. I’m kinda sleepy.”
“Aw, I’m sorry. C’mon, you should go to sleep early. You look utterly exhausted.”
“Mmph, yeah, I guess. How was your day?”
“Pretty good. I met someone while I was talking to people, a girl. She was really gorgeous and she mentioned a newspaper she works on with her brother and said if I like, I could help out. I’m considering it, we could probably use the extra income, especially when it comes in a way that isn’t outright exploitation. I managed to sign up 8 new people to the IWW chapter too, we’re growing pretty well.”
“Cool! That’s brilliant, Ansyn.”
“Right!! It’s so exciting. People are actually becoming class conscious. I have a lot of hope for the future.”
“Me too, Ansyn. Me too.” They went to bed soon after, and Ancom managed to sleep well for the first time in several weeks.