Work Text:
It was a very slow day, one of those where Jacob wished he hadn't come at all; he fidgeted with some metallic tool left unattended on the counter, waiting for the time to pass. The flow of people passing by outside had dramatically increased as lunch time approached, but none of them were kind enough to walk in and break the cycle of boredom Jacob was trapped in.
His lunch break was in forever, but his stomach's frustration was growing worse and worse. The fact that he was alone that day did not help him to resist the temptation; finally, he snapped and disappeared under the counter to grab his miserable sandwich.
Of course, the bell above the door rang just as he was gobbling his meal. He sprang back up immediately, mouth full of white bread and cheap rosette.
The man responsible for such disruption was what Jacob was used to see in such a modern watch shop; a blue cashmere pea jacket from fine tailoring, adjusted to the waist with a same-textured belt; a perfectly tied red scarf, meticulously stowed in the collar. J.M.Weston leather bottines clacked on the floor as the man approached the counter. Yes, the usual, an expensive watch around the waist, a diamond ring on his left hand, clothes worth more than his entire life, but all of this sported by a man around his age, pretty brunette hair in a loose ponytail and a kind expression on his face; an unusual sight, as Jacob was used to getting haughty looks from clients.
"Am I bothering? I can go back later if needed..." The man asked, looking with a quite surprised face at Jacob; his hand nervously grabbed the strap of his laptop bag.
"Oh-nuh uh!" Jacob shook his head, unable to speak with his mouth drowning in sandwich. He turned and went to tidy the small tool in a random drawer, taking advantage of these few precious seconds turned away from the client to swallow. He turned around again with the biggest smile.
"Sorry! No, we are open and would be the happiest to help you. What can I do for you?"
The client seemed hesitant for a second, but still opened his bag and took a tiny box out of it. He put it on the counter, opened it and turned it so Jacob could have a look at the broken pocket watch in it.
Jacob's eyes shone. Nowadays the only models brought in were modern watches; perfect craftmanship, the ultimate demonstration of centuries-old expertise combined to the most recent technologies, but he still always found himself more excited to see older models come in. This one in particular was everything that helped him remember his love for his job: it was even more ancient than the Victorian watch he had been working on the day before, it was sophisticated and it was shattered.
"How... how much would a reparation for this cost?" The man asked, visibly queasy.
"I am not sure, it is quite a mess..." Jacob said and as he did, his hand approached the device to take a closer look at the broken glass and the tiny gears scattered in the box. Instantly, the client moved forwards by reflex, a raised arm almost interrupting Jacob in his action before the man contained himself and stopped, hand still slightly up. He curled his fingers and took his hand away, pretexting to put a loose strand of hair behind his ear as Jacob gave him a confused look.
"Do you... not want me to touch it? It will be hard to fix it with only my eyes, with all due respect," Jacob half-joked, taking away his hand.
"Oh no, of course you can touch it, I'm so sorry, it's just that, hum..." the man stammered and lost himself in his words, taking a step back. "It's precious and I am very scared of losing even a tiny part of it."
"... Ok, but many parts need to be replaced, I can see just from here several gears that are missing teeth and the hands are crooked..."
The client looked suddenly very pale. Jacob carefully went to grab a cog, purposefully slowing his movement to reassure the man, but the second the top of his fingers disappeared in the box the client snapped and went to close it.
"I-I see! Sorry I think I... I changed my mind?" He stuttered, almost yelling from embarrassment. "Thanks anyway!" He shouted as he almost ran towards the door; the bell rang, and then Jacob was alone again in the cabinet.
He blinked, hand still where the box was a few seconds prior. Then he sat back down.
He was disappointed to have lost such a unique task, but mainly he was confused by what the hell had just happened. With all clients being the most boring people in existence, it was to the least unusual to see people panicking like this man just did.
He looked at the door for a few seconds, then at the wrist watches in the vitrines. Then he grabbed his half-sandwich and stuffed it whole in his mouth.
The second time Jacob saw the man, several months had passed. He was in the back of the shop when the bell rang; he sprinted to the front and was greeted by a mess in the form of a human being.
The dark circles under the man's eyes, the undone hair, untied shirt and smell of alcohol did not help him to recognize the man he had seen a few months earlier. Only when the box was put, or rather throwed on the counter, did he realise who he was dealing with there.
"Oh, welcome!" He said, trying to sound unbothered by the zombie in front of him; he retained himself from adding 'back', as he himself knew too much about doing embarrassing things at a shop and fearing forever that the people there would remember. "How may I help you?"
"There's a pocket watch in it. It's broken, has been for fifteen years, and I need you to fix it." The man groaned, not looking away from the box (though on second thought, he was probably looking at nothing and his eyes just were in the direction of the counter).
"Sure! May I take a look inside?" Jacob asked, uneasy to talk to someone who wouldn’t even look at him.
"When is the payment? Before or after?" The man replied, countering Jacob's joyful tone with a tired, annoyed pitch in his voice. His eyes didn't focus anywhere, and the wine in his breath only confirmed that he was absolutely crammed.
"For big reparations, usually after, but I still need your identity ca-"
The man slammed his passport on the counter next to the box.
"Does that shit work?"
"... yes?" Jacob said, taking a closer look at it. "Oh, you're French?"
"Yeah I know, baguette omelette du fromage hon-hon mes couilles. Do I just leave it to you?"
"Lemme just register it, and then I'll give it back."
He logged on the shop's tablet, trying his best not to look back at the drunk man staring at him with all the fatigue in the world on his face. He wrote the identifier, checked he hadn't typed it wrong and tended the small red booklet. The client took it with his left hand, that Jacob remembered with a ring: but now it was lacking, and the man put his passport in his pocket and turned around without a word.
"Uh, may I have your phone number, sir? So I can contact you when we're done..." Jacob asked. The man replied with a sigh, a business card on the counter and the ring of the bell.
It took a long time for Arno, whose name Jacob had learnt from the passport, to come get his watch back. He walked in in clean clothes and perfectly done hair, but his eyes still bared dark circles under them and he appeared considerably sad at best, horribly depressed at worst.
The watch in question had been finished for ages, but the cabinet had been left on read since, and so the poor device had been resting alone in its box for months.
Jacob immediately smiled to him, all proud in his fulltime employee's uniform, and the man tried to do the same but his came out looking fake with such a tired expression.
"Good afternoon! It's been a while since you came. How have you been?"
"Good!" Arno answered with clear assurance, despite his look alone being a testament to how he really was. "I did entrusted you with my pocket watch, didn't I?" He asked, insisting on the 'you', and Jacob barely hold a laugh at the thought of this poor guy waking up with a hangover and desperately trying to remember to which watch shop he had drunkenly went to ask the reparation of his precious watch.
"Yes you did!" Jacob answered, chuckling when her heard Arno sigh in relief. "Your precious has been waiting for you for months, lemme get her for you."
He went to grab the forgotten box, that he had put aside in a corner of the back shop; he tried his best to remove the thin layer of dust that had formed on top it it and walked back behind the counter. Arno promptly switched from his saddened expression to an almost neutral one when Jacob reappeared, but not quickly enough for the man not to see it.
"Here it is, all brand new! It's not often we have the chance to repair pretty models like this one. Family treasure, I guess?"
He saw through Arno's eyes that he was correct, but he especially saw that he should have kept quiet.
"... yes." The client answered, voice suddenly empty. He gently took the box and opened it to see the watch. "It does looks brand new, thank you."
Jacob watched him close the box in silence, for once at a loss of words.
"How much was the reparation, in the end?" Arno continued, already taking out his wallet.
"Oh, lemme check... Just have to find the tablet. Ah, here it is."
He logged on and searched for Arno Dorian among the list, as the man in question stared at his own hands without a word.
"That will be, this much." Jacob did not even dare to say the price out loud and just showed it on the screen; they had to get custom-molded pieces and expensive materials to fit the original model, and that wasn't cheap, to say the least. He suspected his coworker (at the time superior still) to have taken advantage of Arno not asking for a cost estimation beforehand, and to have always chosen the most expensive option whenever a choice had to be made during the repairs. To his relief, the man did not react negatively, instead only getting his credit card out.
None of them say a word as he paid, silence only broken by the beeping sounds of the machine and Arno's bag as he put his walled back inside.
"Well, thank you. A lot."
"You're welcome! And wait, there's something my dumb ass forgot to bring..." Jacob stopped in his tracks. Arno raised an eyebrow, amused. "I mean, my foolish self omitted from bringing another package that is yours to bring home."
He quickly grabbed a smaller box on a shelf behind him, where his coworker never looked and where it had therefore been the safest, and put in next to the first one.
"What is it?"
"When my colleague wasn't looking as we worked on it, I collected all the pieces that were put aside during the repair; glass shards and gears, mainly, as well as both clock hands, etc. Here they are."
Arno gave him a surprised look, then gave the same look at the box.
"I'd thought you'd want to have them too," continued Jacob as he had no answer. "Nothing from what you brought me was thrown away."
For a few seconds, Arno did not move, and Jacob did the same in return, not sure what to do. Then he noticed Arno's chin almost imperceptible shaking, and a second later he had a sobbing client in front of him without a clue of what to do.
Customer service etiquette be damned, he was alone at the shop for the day so there was no one to prevent him from running around the counter and taking Arno in his arms, rocking him in a feeble attempt to calm him down. He rested the back of his legs against the counter and held the crying man for a few minutes without a word, simply letting him sob as he needed. He had always preferred comfort over reasoning when he had hit rock bottom, and it seemed Arno was the same as he calmed down relatively quick, sobs turning to small weeps and discreet sniffs in the crook of his neck.
"...Are you really sure that you're okay?" Jacob finally asked after a while. He mindlessly started slowly brushing Arno's back with one hand.
"Thank you for keeping everything," Arno murmured after a moment, his voice still weak.
"No problem. I thought you'd like keeping everything. But you're avoiding my question."
Arno took a step back with visible reluctance and brushed away his tears with the back of his hand.
"Honestly, no. But I'll be? I guess?"
He suddenly seemed to panic and promptly grabbed the two boxes.
"I-I have to go. Thank you again and hum... sorry?" Arno awkwardly smiled to Jacob, who stood there, clueless of what to do.
"We are looking forward to..."
The bell rang.
"... see you again?" Jacob muttered, his words resonating in the empty room. Arno's silhouette flashed behind the left vitrine, and then Jacob had nothing to look at but his solitude.
He slowly stood away from the counter: his eyes did not leave the door, as if there was a chance that it would open and Arno would walk back in. He quickly shut down that thought; he was a client, just another client.
He glanced at one of the many clocks on the wall; only three hours until he could go home. He returned into the back shop, sighing just at the view of the boring watch torn open on the workbench.
The iron curtain screeched as Jacob pushed in down; his keys rattled against each other until he finally got the corresponding one, that he pushed in its lock. The city was soaked wet from the latest rain, and the last clouds were dissipating to let the yellowish evening sky through.
He was so pressed to go home that he almost ran into Arno, stopping barely a centimeter away from the man.
"Oh jeez-Hi!" He yelped in shock.
"Hi! Hum, I don't know if you remember me, it's been a while..."
"Sure I do! You came here a few months ago for your pocket watch. How have you been?"
"...Better, actually."
"For real?"
Arno chuckled. "Yeah. For real." He brushed his hand through the back of his own head and gulped. "Hum, I just wanted to thank you, for the watch. She means a lot to me." He gave Jacob an ashamed look. "And also, thank you for, you know. The rest."
"Oh, it's nothing. We all have our troubles in life," Jacob answered, although he still often thought about what had happened and that seeing Arno again brought him more joy that he'd ever admit.
"Still, we didn't know each other but you were kind to me. It was a very lonely period for me, and you helped me. A lot."
Their eyes met as Jacob opened his mouth to reply, and Arno blushed. "I-I mean. It must sound just stupid to your ears, I'm just a client like any other... I just felt I needed to thank you for this."
"I certainly wouldn't call you a client like any other, the majority just give us their priceless watches and leave without saying anything but snarky remarks. It's not often we have a client who is so attached to what he lends us. And who has an entire main character's depression arc in the span of a few months."
Arno laughed. "Yeah, sorry. Life's been tough. But time goes on."
They both stood there, not finding anything else to say. Arno's hand grabbed his bag's strap, his eyes wandering to the cars passing by. Jacob did the same in hopes of finding something to add.
"So, hum, that was all I wanted to say, I'll leave now. You seemed in a hurry..."
Once again, Arno took a step back, and then another. But this time Jacob caught his wrist, stopping him in his departure.
"Wait. Are you free? Like, right now?"
"Yes?"
"Do you wanna go grab a coffee or something?"
It took a second for Arno to understand what Jacob truly asked, and just as the man let an 'Ooh!' out, the British man suddenly remembered that heterosexuality was a thing and that he had never gotten any indication whatsoever that Arno wasn't straight like all of their customers ever. The French man opened his mouth to answer, and Jacob readied himself for the inevitable rejection.
"Sure, why not?"
Oh. Oooh.
"Really? Oh thank goodness, I thought my queer ass would get told to fuck off."
"Well it's your queer ass' lucky day," Arno chuckled. "There's a nice coffeeshop down the street, if you want."
"I was thinking about it as well. Lemme just..."
Jacob promptly hid the keys in his pouch and readjusted his hair, messy after the whole day, in the reflection of the vitrine.
"Perfect. Après toi." He said with a malicious smile, showing the man the way with a hand.
"Nice accent," Arno smiled before starting to walk; Jacob went with him with a big smile.