Work Text:
Record-chan has already convinced herself that skipping tracks right to a confession is bound for disaster. Good taste in music notwithstanding, the gyaru is still a beat or two ahead of her on the social spectrum. And while she doesn’t care for popularity contests, managing her final year of high school without the burden of being outed would be ideal.
So she decides to approach the problem sideways - a mixtape.
Record-chan has never been great at what she’s heard is called “friendship”. She barely considers herself a functional human being, let alone anyone capable of maintaining a long-term relationship. Whereas some people are left-brained and right-brained, neat categories of logical and passionate, Record’s A- and B-sides are on a constant loop of white noise. These social cues that come so naturally to girls like the gyaru and her cronies constantly evade her. Where does she rest her eyes when talking to someone? How does she feign interest when the conversation at hand bores her? How does she hold her face? This in part inspired her decision to don a mask at work - much easier to deal with ignorant customers when they couldn’t see the way her lips curled after asking why the store window display advertised stuff like “The Red Hot Chili Peppers” instead of XYZ band they liked. She wasn’t some sort of music purist by any means. People liked what they liked, and judging someone’s merit based on what they listened to seemed borderline discriminatory. Obviously, she couldn’t fathom why someone would rather listen to forty hours worth of Korean boy bands when things like Pearl Jam existed, but-
Ah, there it was. Her mind had derailed thinking about music once again.
A mixtape.
What was she trying to say with it? A mixtape worth anything could convey its message without even the need for a label, but she writes one on the blank CD anyway, for guidance - “Suggestions”.
…and just what the hell am I suggesting?!
Mixtapes are the sorts of things reserved for friends and lovers, and Record-chan knows that she is neither to the gyaru. Her fingers ficker on her laptop shell to the tune of some invisible beat. One perk to working at the shop was the vast collection of nearly free music she had amassed over the several years she had worked there, starting in her first year of high school. Who needed Spotify? Her library of Alexandria was neatly stored on a 3-terabyte hard drive.
Still, it wasn’t enough. Her breath catches in her throat, hard as stone.
Though there was something she wanted to share with her classmate, even music was failing to help her put it into words. If that were the case, Record-chan’s only form of communication was hopelessly severed.
Her hands traveled to her phone. Sure, she didn’t have friends.
But she had an uncle.
uncle_tattoo : proud of u girlie
uncle_tattoo : lmao
Record_Chan : Uncle, please.
Record_Chan : Stop trying to be cool. I need help. Suggestions, please.
uncle_tattoo : alright alright
uncle_tattoo : she likes…nirvana and foo fighters, right
uncle_tattoo : try “heart-shaped box” if you haven’t already
uncle_tattoo : it’s a little softer than what you’re usually into, but maybe “last night on earth”
uncle_tattoo : green day
Record_Chan : hm
uncle_tattoo : kinda old-school but def leppard has some good stuff too. “love bites” comes to mind
Record_Chan : Isn’t that all a little forward?
uncle_tattoo : are u making a mixtape for your girlfriend or your pastor kid
uncle_tattoo and Record_Chan are typing…
uncle_tattoo: you’re gonna say “she’s not my girlfriend”
Record_Chan : She’s not my girlfriend
Record_Chan : Goddamnit.
uncle_tattoo : i’ll just make the tape for u if you cover that lazy temp’s shift sunday
Record_Chan : Doesn’t the employee handbook discourage quid pro quo?
Record_Chan : I mean, I’ll take the shift.
Record_Chan : But I have to make the tape myself. Thanks anyway.
uncle_tattoo : kid, you know i love you no matter what right
Record_Chan : …are we doing this right now?
uncle_tattoo : shut up
uncle_tattoo : i’m just happy to see you happy
uncle_tattoo : i think music is always better shared, y’know?
Record_Chan : Maybe you should close the store and start a greeting card company.
uncle_tattoo : asshole. btw you’re on the schedule for sunday now
He liked to push her buttons, but Record-chan knew that her uncle’s heart was in the right place. In the end, she uses more of his suggestions than she would ever let on, lest she never hear the end of it. God forbid he ask to see the actual tape. She might just sink into the display shelves, never to be seen by family or friend alike.
…which the gyaru has to be by extension. Because that’s what mixtapes are for. Friends. Nothing else.
Record-chan knows that if she does not give the tape to the girl the second that she sees her in the store, it will remain in the pocket of her uniform for the rest of eternity (roughly equivalent to a shift on a slow day). Nose pressed against the window display, she watches the streets carefully, waiting to catch a glimpse of blonde hair. It feels ridiculous, but she manages to convince herself that she’s simply fulfilling her duties as a store employee. Once the disk stops burning a hole in her pocket, she can actually focus on her job.
Her face redder than sunburn, Gyaru-chan is furiously texting her friends, unconcerned at the swells of people parting around her in the street. The record shop is just out of view, but the sight is unmistakable.
g_girl : GUYS
g_girl : the record boy is totally staring me down from across the street
g_girl : like he’s waiting for me
blondie : oh shit
hoops : thats crazy
g_girl : WHAT DO I DO
hoops : okay well first youre gonna stop texting us
hoops : and then youre gonna walk into the shop
hoops : maybe he wants to confess?
blondie : okay but like don’t get TOO hype
blondie : maybe he’s waiting for another girl
hoops : only 1 way to find out
“Uh, he-”
“CD.”
The gyaru turns her feet in, too shy to direct any part of herself at the handsome employee. “I, uh, was wondering-wait, what?”
Record-chan’s arm is extended, and it is taking every ounce of her strength to ensure that it doesn’t quiver under the weight of the disk. Oh god. I’m doing this. No turning back. Oh-
“A…CD?” The gyaru takes it from the employee’s hands, handling it as carefully as glass. Neat handwriting on the jewel case tells her that she is holding something called “Suggestions”.
…and just what the hell is he suggesting?!
“T-thanks!” she says, a little too quickly. “I’ll, uh, listen to it right away!”
hoops : so what happened??
blondie : did he even know who you were lol
hoops : did he confess
g_girl : i…think?
g_girl : gotta listen to the cd first
blondie : …the what