Chapter Text
She opened her eyes, blinking into the darkness of her room as her phone alarm kept on ringing.
Right, another morning, another day of being capitalism’s slave. Great.
She let the alarm ring a bit longer, huffing in annoyance before she finally got up, body and mind still halfway asleep.
After a press of the snooze button, her room was filled with silence. She enjoyed it for a moment, feeling her eyelids droop as if they were trying to convince her to get back to sleep.
Fighting against her tired body, she slowly made her way out of bed and towards the kitchen, making sure to keep quiet to not wake up her housemate. She was pretty sure Rose was still asleep and she needed all the rest she could get after the late-night shifts she’s been picking up lately.
She put the kettle on, leaning against the counter in the dim kitchen, yawning as the water began to boil. Yes, she could get coffee at work and Clara would probably be on top of that, but the boss was starting to get even more stingy and there was no way they could hide their indulgences with how bad summer was in terms of earnings.
Honestly, her tips for the whole week during summer resembled her tips in a day, maybe two on a winter’s day.
The kettle let out a click, letting her know the water was ready. After blinking a few times, trying to force herself out of a morning haze, she gingerly took her favourite mug out of the cupboard and reached for instant coffee.
Disgusting, she thought as she took a sip. Working at the café had many disadvantages, starting with the boss and ending with customers. One of the smaller, annoying side effects of her job was how damn good the coffee was.
She got used to roasted coffee beans fairly quickly, which wasn’t that hard considering how many tricks her colleague had up her sleeves when it came to… making work more bearable. No one knew how she did it, but Clara knew how to make a coffee or two disappear without arousing suspicion from the boss.
Her instant coffee paled in comparison to the brew she could have at work. But of course, it was summer, and summer meant slow business which meant that boss was damn near measuring every coffee bean just to make sure they didn’t shave a bit off to make a beverage for themselves.
She didn’t even finish her coffee, leaving the half-full mug in the sink before quickly rushing to change from her pyjamas into something more appropriate. Her body went on autopilot as she went through her morning routine and her thoughts went back to her as soon as she arrived at the bus stop.
The plan was simple, quickly find an empty seat and listen to music while the bus bounced on the uneven road. Usually, she was lucky, and that day proved to be one of the good ones as the bus was almost empty.
Right, summer. Summer meant summer holidays. No kids on their way to school and unlike her, some people actually managed to earn a decent pay and get to go on a holiday that she so desperately craved.
A holiday, something that she knew to leave to her wildest dreams. No, a holiday wouldn’t do, she didn’t take the job to go on holiday. Yes, she yearned for a week at a foreign location, exploring, maybe unwinding on a beach, but she had her priorities set straight.
She took the job to (hopefully)(unsuccessfully) save up a bit of money so she could pursue her actual dreams.
The bus came to her stop, and she sighed softly, shuffling out of her seat. It was not the time to get lost in her dreams and her incompetence to fulfil them.
It was the time to put on her best customer service smile and get ready for another day of “I’m sorry I can’t make you an iced coffee without the ice; yes, there is lactose in the tiramisu, yes I understand you’re lactose intolerant, what do you mean you want regular milk in your latte, are you sure?” topped with a cherry on top in form of “no, I do not know if the purse would be cheaper online or on your holiday in Italy.”
She wasn’t proud of the last one and she could still hear Clara’s stifled snickers from the coffee machine, clearly enjoying the misery that was dripping from her words as she tried to stay as polite as she could.
“Yaz, hi!” Clara smiled from behind the counter as she assembled the coffee machine.
Yaz gave her a smile in return as she made her way to the back, leaving her backpack in what the boss called the staff room.
The staff room had a few hangers for coats and such and a small shoe cabinet that was barely visible, obstructed by all the junk the boss had no other place for.
“How was your weekend?” Clara asked, leaning against the bar.
“Uneventful. You?” Yaz asked as she put her hair up, feeling around to see if all her curls managed to get into the ponytail.
“Well, Danny and I went to this nice restaurant for our anniversary. Honestly, I was kind of expecting him to pop the question, but I guess I’ll have to be the one to ask him or I’ll end up a spinster,” Clara sighed, shaking her head a bit.
“He’ll get there, I’m sure of it,” Yaz reassured her, sparing a comforting smile in the other brunette’s direction.
Clara sighed some more, tired brown eyes looking in the distance. “Honestly Yaz, it’s been five years. Now, don’t get me wrong, I know we said we would wait until things are more stable money-wise, but come on, we can be engaged for a bit. I think the whole get married in a year after engagement thing is bull, I just want to feel like he cares and doesn’t just… expect me, you know?”
Yaz considered her for a moment, unsure of her approach. “Girl, I love you, but you have to tell that to him. He’s not a mind reader,” she reminded, trying to sound as supportive as she could.
“Ugh, I hate it when you make sense. I just… I don’t know. It’s just… we’ve been together so long. And he’s my constant in life and I’m his. I know that… I know I take him as a matter of fact and so does he. I just wish he would try a bit,” Clara stumbled with her words a bit, letting out an exhausted huff as she finished her train of thought.
“Again, you have to take this to Danny, but I get you. When… well, you know. You know how it was with me and her,” Yaz uttered, not trusting herself to go on further.
Of course, Clara knew, she knew everything. From the day they began working together, they were thick as thieves.
Clara was employed there for a few months longer than Yaz was and apparently was competent enough to school Yaz through everything. As it later turned out, the boss just couldn’t be bothered with walking Yaz through what was expected of her and without Clara, Yaz was sure she would terminate her employment faster than she had begun it.
It was pure luck Clara was friendly and kind, showing Yaz everything she knew and then some. It also helped that they had so much in common, a fact that strengthened their bond beyond measure. Honestly, at that point, Yaz was pretty sure that if the day were to come and Clara went out the door, Yaz would follow without a second thought.
“Yeah, I know…” Clara said softly, giving Yaz a half smile as brown eyes met brown.
“Well, sorry to cut this short, but we do have a café to open, and I bet Melissa would be furious with us for losing her precious money,” Yaz sighed, not bothering to hide her annoyance.
“Remind me to run the dishwasher several times just because today,” Clara grinned as Yaz went for the door, unlocking it.
“Careful, the witch never sleeps, you never know when she’ll get cameras,” Yaz smirked in response, pocketing the key in her apron as she made her way back to the bar.
Summer days were slow. They dragged on and made Yaz want to rip out the hair from her scalp from boredom most of the time just so she would have something to do. For the time being, she focused her energy on picking her flaky nail polish.
Melissa would probably murder her right then and there if she found out she painted them a very neutral shade of brownish pink (the scandal) even though she technically didn’t work in the kitchen.
She was considering it for the money, but was still on the fence, unsure of how much energy she had to spare. Working in the kitchen meant waking up early and actually seeing Melissa in person, talking to her, breathing the same air. Yaz shuddered at the thought.
No, it’s not like she loathed Melissa with every fibre of her being, after all, she too was nothing but a pawn in the grand scheme of things. But she was… something else. Sweet with a drop of poison hidden behind her words, working them to the bone, stingy with every pound she had.
“You think someone might come in before nine today?” Clara asked, interrupting Yaz’s train of thought. “Ooh, I hope it’s espresso and chocolate cake lady, she tips well,” she added, turning to look Yaz in the eye.
“Yeah, or it could be that lady that picked every ice cube out of her coffee and left it on the tray,” Yaz reminded playfully.
They both shuddered at the memory. The tray was filled with water and the paper napkin was soaked and looked slimy. They did rock paper scissors over who should clean it up. Yaz lost.
As expected, the morning was uneventful. Mostly to-go orders, making both glad they managed to convince Melissa to buy paper cups. A few months beforehand there were no cups in sight and both Yaz and Clara were witnesses to some… sharp words aimed at their establishment from a woman Yaz would describe with one simple word. Karen.
Soon, both gave up, making their way to table two, Yaz making sure she pushed her chair closer to the bar so she could get up quickly should customers come. Clara made herself comfortable on the booth sofa, putting unfolded napkins on the table in front of her to occupy her hands.
Truth be told, the napkins they had folded would last them at least the whole summer season. Didn’t help the other shift had the same idea, meaning they wouldn’t run out of folded napkins or cake boxes anytime soon.
“So, I was thinking,” Clara began, the tone of her voice rising suspiciously at the end of her sentence. She didn’t look up, eyes glued to the napkin she was folding.
“Don’t hurt yourself there,” Yaz quipped, but dread began rising in her chest, weighing on her heavily like a boulder. She feared whatever words would come next out of her best friend’s mouth.
“Ha ha,” Clara said drily, sparing a glance Yaz’s way before turning her eyes to the napkins once more. Yaz wasn’t sure if she knew she was folding and unfolding the same napkin over and over again, smoothing out the creases only to undo her effort. “Well…”
“Spit it out.”
“Just… it’s been a while since… you know who, and well, I thought it could be good if you, I dunno, put yourself out there again,” Clara finished, gritting the words through her teeth, though she did sound hopeful.
“No.”
“Okay, I knew you would say that, but come on, hear me out,” Clara raised her hands in surrender, though her words suggested otherwise. “Yaz… I know the whole thing with her was hard on you. But I think you need the human contact and no, making Danny the third wheel when we go out is not it. Rose’s barely home and hon, I do think you should get out more. If not for romance, then for friendship.”
“Clara…”
Yaz didn’t finish her thought, sighing instead. Clara was clever, sometimes too clever for Yaz’s liking. And did she know that her friend was right. Aside from the occasional hang out with Clara (sometimes including Danny) and exchanging a few words with Rose in the living room (that too got sparse as Rose took on more work) most of her human interaction consisted of customers and the cashier at whatever shop she went to when she was running low on groceries.
“Never mind, we don’t have to talk about it, but please, think about it, yeah?” Clara said quietly, offering Yaz a supportive smile laced with sadness.
Because she knew. She knew who Yaz used to be. Who Yaz wasn’t anymore, not since her.
“I will,” Yaz offered in response, words hollow just like the promise behind them.
And then the bell rang as the door opened.