Chapter Text
Cellbit breathed in the fresh autumn air as he wandered through Quesadilla Island, the soft breeze ruffling his hair and the warm sun kissing his skin in what felt like ages. It was a part of the island he hadn't explored before, on the opposite side of where he lived, away from the noise and most of the inhabitants. His footsteps echoed in the quiet streets, the sun casting long shadows across the stone paths and flower roads.
He rarely ventured outside, preferring the solitude of his writing den. So much so, that in the year he had been living on the island working as a writer, he had barely interacted with anyone besides the coffee shop owners he frequented —Fit and Pac— and, well, the Federation workers posted at every corner.
Today, however, was different. He needed a break from the suffocating walls that enclosed his thoughts.
As he strolled aimlessly, his mind churned with the events of the day.
To be completely honest, he had had a shit day. In fact, the shittiest of days. Not one, but two spilled cups of coffee —Pac had kindly provided a third cup in a kids holder to Cellbit’s increasing humiliation; his cat had shredded the one and only draft he’d been working on for two weeks (he doesn’t believe in technology, shoot him); and a looming deadline that seemed to mock his lack of inspiration was breathing down his neck.
For a writer, he was the living image of a grumpy, hermit, coffee-driven stereotype. His frustration bubbled beneath the surface, simmering with each passing moment.
So, he decided to walk that day. He figured a nice stroll through unexplored territory would clear his mind and, who knows, maybe find some inspiration where he least expected.
Eventually, Cellbit found himself standing before the entrance of a quaint little library, its wooden doors invitingly ajar. He hesitated for a moment, peering through the windows to check if it was empty —social battery be damned, he didn’t feel like talking to people today. With a relieved sigh, he pushed the doors open and stepped inside the quiet building, the scent of old books mingling with the musty air.
The library wasn’t that big but books seemed to fill every corner. Small decorative flowers painted the even smaller reading desks and shelves here and there with pretty colors. Cellbit felt the pounding in his head ease a little at the comforting ambiance as he skimmed through the bookshelves, not really sure what to look for. He stood there awkwardly, ultimately deciding on asking for a recommendation instead of wandering aimlessly in a sea of worn out volumes.
At the front desk, a figure sat engrossed in a book, his attention focused solely on the pages before him. Cellbit's brow furrowed in confusion. Where was the bear-like Federation worker that was usually seen at public establishments? Instead, he found himself face to face with a young man, his chestnut hair framing his features with an air of quiet intensity, his Federation uniform a foreign and startling sight on someone other than the bear beings.
Cellbit shook his head, pushing the familiar tingle of curiosity aside. Right, the book.
"Excuse me," Cellbit began, "I need some assistance with finding a book."
The employee —Roier, according to the tag on his vest— seemed completely unfazed by Cellbit’s request. In fact, he turned a page with the utmost nonchalance he’d ever seen.
Cellbit’s frown deepened. He cleared his throat loudly.
“Excuse me,” he repeated, his voice laced with irritation. “I’d like a recommendation.” He bit back a “please”, finding the rude young man unworthy of his good manners.
Silence.
Another page turn.
Okay, that was it. Now Cellbit was officially offended. He didn’t want to be one of those people that make a fuss over nothing in public, but he’d had a shitty day, and he’d spilled two coffees, and this was his last straw!
He reached across the desk and tapped firmly on the open book Roier was reading with an accusatory finger, annoyed. Vaguely, he noticed Roier startle and look up at him, brown eyes wide and alarmed, but he ignored it in favor of giving the employee a piece of his mind.
“Hey, I don’t know if the Feds aren’t big on manners, but where I’m from it’s fucking rude not to address people when they talk to you.”
Cellbit fired at a seemingly caught off guard Roier, going off about public decency, the Federation monopoly on this godforsaken island and a somewhat weird tangent about how Tiktok had ruined society and its youth.
Roier remained silent, a confused expression on his face at first that slowly morphed into one of realization to finally look at Cellbit go off with an amused smile.
At some point in Cellbit’s furious rant, he noticed the boy he was currently yelling at was kind of… pretty. Actually, scratch that, he is really fucking attractive, his treacherous mind supplied. Cellbit might or might not have a thing for hot librarians with chestnut hair and deer eyes.
Right now, though, the annoying smug smile Roier was sporting was really trying the little patience he had left. He was about to ask what was so funny when another employee, this time one of the bear-humanoid thingies, came up to Roier and started moving his hands in rapid motions, Roier mirroring the movements with practiced ease.
The bear employee went away as quickly as he came, not before nodding his head towards Cellbit in a silent greeting. The bears didn’t have a face but Cellbit could somehow feel the judgment and mockery dripping off that one small gesture.
Cellbit just stared in disbelief at the retreating figure, mouth agape and a daunting feeling at the back of his head as he turned slowly back to Roier. He was already looking at him, a cheeky smile on his face and a raised brow.
Cellbit closed his eyes for a moment, groaning as he felt his face warm up with embarrassment. He knew what was coming.
Roier pressed his lips, looking like he was having the time of his life when he raised his hand impossibly slow, pointed to his ear and shook his head in the universal sign of “I can’t hear” you fucking moron was left unsaid but Cellbit’s mind kindly added.
He fidgeted with his hands and moved them around in a pathetic attempt at apologizing but Roier stopped him by holding up a hand and a tiny head shake, mirth in his eyes.
"I can read lips," he whispered, his voice soft and melodic.
Cellbit's mortification skyrocketed at the information, a panicky giggle escaping his lips.
“Well, that’s not too comforting considering now I know that you know that I’ve made a complete and utter asshole of myself,” he rambled, feeling more like an idiot as the seconds went by.
Roier laughed and the sound, airy and raspy, made Cellbit fidgety for a whole different reason.
“It’s okay,” Roier said, his hands moving to sign like second nature. "I'm used to dealing with hot-headed customers like you."
Roier’s words were almost teasing, his eyes peering at him under long lashes with playful curiosity. Cellbit could suddenly hear his own heart beating in his ears.
"I– I swear I'm not usually like this," he blurted out, his words tumbling over each other in a rush of awkwardness. "It's just been a really shitty day, and you happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."
The young man chuckled louder, a sound that danced on the edge of Cellbit's consciousness like a fleeting melody. He leaned forward, his gaze locking with Cellbit's in an intimate dance of shared understanding.
"Well, I don't mind," he said, the whisper taking a flirty undertone that hit Cellbit like a truck. "I could be at the right place and the right time, just pick a date."
Cellbit felt his cheeks flush crimson at Roier's boldness. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, he could only gape like a fish out of water, his mind struggling to process the unexpected turn of events.
Smooth, idiot, he chided himself inwardly, his embarrassment threatening to consume him whole.
“Sorry,” Roier said, sparing Cellbit of his misery (he didn’t look sorry at all). He bit his bottom lip like he was trying not to laugh, eyes sparkling. “Did I come off too strong?”
Cellbit liked the way even his signing became slow and filled with teasing, long fingers dancing elegantly. It was both distracting and alluring in equal parts.
Roier was nothing like the Fed workers he had encountered and that made him curious to unthinkable levels.
Who exactly was this guy? Why was he the only human Federation member he’d seen? He didn’t act like the eerie bears either, he seemed like a regular, infuriating, stupidly attractive dude.
Emphasis on infuriating.
More emphasis on stupidly attractive.
Cellbit decided he rather liked Roier. He was weak to a good mystery and a charming smile, could you blame him?
Roier’s smile spread at Cellbit’s stunned silence, he wasn’t really good with this kind of stuff. Heck, the nearest romantic encounter he’d ever had on the island was that one time an old lady gave him homemade bread after he helped her cat off a tree. Yup, it wasn’t sad at all.
He watched Roier roll his eyes endearingly as he blabbered nonsensical sounds and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, before Roier turned his attention to something behind him —another customer, Cellbit would notice later, free of the boy’s magnetic aura.
Undeterred, Roier reached for a piece of paper and a pen, scribbling down with the same confidence he signed, talked, stared. He quickly handed it to Cellbit and when he didn’t look at it right away in favor of staring at his pretty face like a loser, Roier scoffed and looked down at the paper intently, encouraging Cellbit to do the same.
Elegant numbers were written down and just below it a short sentence:
"Call me if you’re up for a lip-to-lip conversation next time ;)"
And below, smaller:
“(just kidding. or maybe not.)”
Cellbit let out a surprised chuckle. He was sure that if his eyeballs weren’t attached to his skull, they would probably be rolling on the floor along with his dignity. When he looked back up, Roier was already walking away to help the other customer, only turning back to send a “call me” sign his way, dimpled smile never leaving his face.
As Cellbit exited the library, empty handed but the slip of paper safely tucked inside his pocket, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He felt lighter, livelier, inspired even. Like he could spill five cups of coffee and his good mood wouldn’t waver.
Well, maybe five was a reach.
His fingers itched with the desire to feel a pen and paper under his hands, brown eyes burned into the back of his eyelids. He tried to contain his smile to no avail as he made his way back home, slip of paper gripped like a promise in his pocketed hand.
Maybe, just maybe, this day wasn't so bad after all.