Chapter Text
lılı.ıllıllı. Radio Playing .ılılılllıılı
BLUE by ZEROBASEONE
♪ In this lonely place I feel like I’m fading away / … Just look at me, stay by my side ♪
—
Heat builds up, stuffy and humid in the small shop.
Work has been relatively the same for the past few weeks.
The fan on the checkout counter shudders every time it turns to the right, as if the weight of the feverish warmth is too much. As always, it barely circulates enough air to cool Matthew down, let alone the whole store, leaving his drink lukewarm and his skin sweaty.
The usual faint fragrance of lavender drifts around—a smell he can always trace to a used incense stick by the back room door. It mingles with the naturally musty scent of the place, intertwining to form something innately familiar and pleasant.
An overplayed song buzzes through the radio and Matthew listens as a woman sings about the beauty of love. For some reason it hits a nerve today—one of those small things that differentiate each shift from the last. The explanation for his annoyance lies somewhere between having heard the chorus more times in the week than there are days, and the fact that he can’t exactly find the beauty of love when he’s spent all nineteen years of his life in the same town. So, he groans and changes the station.
Don’t get him wrong, Matthew is just as eager as every other young adult to experience the “beauty of love” and all that, but he’d much rather just have someone to talk to right now. A friend would be nice.
All of his are back in their hometowns, gone for the summer until the fall semester starts. Matthew calls them every so often, but they’re all busy with work and catching up with high school friends. His own old classmates are probably around, but he hasn’t texted any of them in months. He’s not too desperate to either.
So, he’s alone.
It’s not terrible. His mom is always away at her jobs, so he’s used to being relatively solitary, but it is boring.
Matthew has spent his time at the shop reading through the heap of National Geographic magazines the owner keeps in the back. He’s a solid sixty percent through the pile, but can really only remember twenty or so facts. He managed to rewatch all five seasons of JoJo’s Bizarre Adventures within two weeks, has rediscovered his love for mint chocolate ice cream, and re-read a good amount of The Giver from some middle school English class before losing the copy.
To put it shortly, he has been passing the time very uneventfully. So, yes, he would value someone to simply talk with.
Matthew squints as the sun reappears from behind a cloud and fills up the shop, weaving through the messy displays of antiques to burn uncomfortably hot on him. The light refracts through the glass of his coke bottle, laying cuts of rainbow on the table. He absentmindedly traces the colorful refractions with a gentle finger, following the sharp edges and changing hues of orange and yellow as he pulls out his phone.
Scrolling through the lock screen, he reads the few notifications there. It’s mostly alerts for mobile games that he’s forgotten to turn off. No emails. Matthew types in his password and opens up his inbox, reloading the page a couple of times. Nothing new pops up. He sighs, reloading it once more, but the app remains the same. Maybe tomorrow, Matthew thinks.
He pockets the item just as the front door opens, a clinking chime sounding someone’s entrance.
“Welcome in!” Matthew calls, though the customer is hidden by the makeshift walls of vintage objects.
The only response is the sound of footsteps creaking on the old floor. He shrugs.
Humming along to the radio, he spins his coke bottle around to watch the new fractals it creates. Matthew isn’t sure how long he has left until his shift ends, but doesn’t really care. There isn’t anything in particular he wants or needs to do. There never has been since the temperatures started surpassing eighty and daylight stretched itself across fourteen hours.
He takes a sip of the cola, nose scrunching at the warm liquid.
“Excuse me.”
Matthew startles, almost spitting out his drink. Instead he swallows it down quickly, eyes watering as he chokes slightly and coughs into his arm.
“Sorry.” He apologizes, throat audibly raw. He shakes his head and looks up to greet—“Taerae?”
Taerae blinks and cocks his head to the side.
“Matthew.”
He forgets what he was going to say, mouth agape for a split second.
It’s not uncommon to see past classmates around, but he’s never had them come into the store. Plus, he hasn’t even glimpsed Taerae in town since they graduated. The two don’t know each other exactly, but they talked a few times throughout high school. Probably a bit more even before that, but Matthew’s memory is a bit foggy.
“You look different.” Taerae points out, nodding at his hair.
Matthew runs a hand through his dyed blond strands and laughs lightly.
“Yeah, I guess I do.”
Taerae looks relatively the same, maybe a bit more handsome as he’s grown into himself. At least, Matthew thinks he didn’t look exactly like this before. Since their friend groups didn’t overlap, he never saw the other much. Honestly, they’re relatively strangers. Matthew remembers he attained class valedictorian and got into some prestigious university, but that’s about it. He wonders what Taerae remembers about him, if anything.
“How’s school? You went up north, right?”
“Uhm, yeah. It—it’s good.” Taerae’s eyebrows furrow slightly.
Matthew doesn’t comment on it, he’s heard freshman year can be tough.
“At least it’s over for now.” Matthew smiles. “So, what do you need?”
Taerae relaxes.
“Right. This might sound weird, but I need something that looks like an heirloom.” He says, wincing at his own words.
Matthew nods, though unsure of why Taerae would need that.
Perhaps he lost one? Or maybe he wants something that looks authentic to pass down to a young relative? Frankly, he doesn’t know, but gets up to move around the counter anyway.
“Okay…I don’t get this request often, but my first thought is jewelry.” He says, leading the other to a small display by the wall.
Taerae takes a moment, looking through the items carefully. The song on the radio ends, replaced with a deep voice backed by gentle guitar. Taerae decides against the gem-filled accessories so they move onto another section of the store. With each minute that passes, Matthew gets more and more curious. As they maneuver through the narrow walking space, he turns back.
“Can I ask why you’re doing this?”
Taerae hesitates, almost bumping into a large cupboard.
“I—” He pauses. “I’m taking some classes at the local college. Just general education stuff…so I can graduate early.”
Matthew hums.
“I have to write an essay about a family heirloom for my writing course. The problem is my family doesn’t have any.”
“Ah, I see.” Matthew says, stopping suddenly. “How about this?”
Taerae stumbles slightly, stabilizing himself and narrowing his eyes.
“Clocks?”
“I feel like they would be good.” Matthew shrugs. “Can’t you imagine a pocket watch being passed down?”
Taerae thinks for a moment. “I guess.” He picks one up and turns it around.
“Or you could get it for yourself.” He adds.
Taerae raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. He closes his fingers around the item, holding it up.
“Do I look like someone who’d carry around a pocket watch?”
“Not really, but maybe you have a friend who does.”
Matthew watches expectantly as Taerae laughs. Then the other tilts his head, a small, knowing grin forming on his face.
“You’re trying to sell this to me, aren't you.”
Matthew returns the smile, raising his hands. “Just doing my job.”
The thing is, he never actually tries to market anything. Matthew helps when he's asked, but typically he lets the customer decide on their own whether or not to spend money. It’s not like he’s eager for Taerae to buy anything—he’d be fine if the boy walked out later without anything in his hands. But he doesn’t want him to leave now, he wants them to keep talking.
The other boy seems to read his mind.
“Say this is my ‘heirloom’.” Taerae says as he scrutinizes the pocket watch. “What will I write about?”
Matthew considers it for a minute, trying his best to form an elaborate past for the item.
“You can say…that your great great grandfather was a clockmaker…”
Taerae nods.
“But then he died after saving a puppy from a burning building…due to…too much smoke inhalation.”
The other fixes him with a doubtful gaze.
“What? It will help add emotion to your essay, make your teacher give you pity points.”
“Ok, I get it.” Taerae admits. “But maybe tone it down. No one’s going to believe that.”
“You try, then.” He challenges.
Matthew watches as Taerae thinks. He narrows his eyes slightly, looking to the side as if searching for an idea.
“I don’t have the time to come up with something that’s actually good right now.” He decides.
“You mean you can’t think of anything better than my story?”
Taerae raises an eyebrow.
“Oh, yes, I could never surpass saving puppies and then dying due to respiratory failures.” He deadpans.
“Obviously.” Matthew agrees, disregarding the sarcasm.
Taerae sighs, a laugh bubbling on the edges, and Matthew can’t help it when his lips stretch wide.
He guides Taerae through the store a while longer, the other following him around with playful banter. Matthew quickly finds he feels comfortable next to Taerae. Their conversation flows naturally, the jokes sliding off their tongues with ease. It feels nice. He feels happy.
When Taerae quickly concludes that he in fact does not want a vintage tea set, Matthew finds himself coming up short on other items to offer.
“Do you want me to show you something else? There are some small paintings over there.” He points to the front of the store.
“It’s fine.” Taerae replies as they round back to the clocks. He picks up the pocket watch from before. “I think I’ll take this.”
“Ah, so my story was compelling.” Matthew teases, leading the boy back to the checkout counter.
Taerae shakes his head, handing the watch over. “I’ll come up with something else.”
Sporting an exaggerated frown, Matthew types the price into the iPad screen—one of the very few modern items in the shop. He turns the device around to let the other pay.
“I mean…if you want a failing grade.” He sighs.
“What about wanting a believable essay?” Taerae retorts as he swipes his card and Matthew bites down a laugh.
“Let me read it when it’s finished.”
“Okay.”
A small twinge of sadness tugs on him when he realizes the boy is going to leave.
Matthew isn't sure if he’ll see Taerae again, given it took this long for them to meet once more. He’s not certain the other means what he said, if those words were simply courtesy. But still, Matthew hopes their paths won’t diverge—that he can keep Taerae in his life. Just for the summer.
After quickly wrapping the pocket watch, Matthew hands it back. He almost doesn’t let go of the item, wanting Taerae to stay. He only wants a moment longer.
But the other takes it, nodding his goodbye.
Matthew bites his lip. They’ll run into each other again, right?
“Have a nice day!” He rushes to say just as Taerae opens the door. The boy turns back, giving a wave. A small smile perches on his lips.
“You too.”
—
Two hours before his shift ends, Matthew changes the radio station again.
Frequency 200.2 is made up of static most of the time, rarely anyone on the other end to host. The station belongs to the local college, meaning that during the school year it’s a vibrant channel full of music and students chatting. For the current sweltering months, however, the sound is relatively dead.
That is, except for the single hour between two and three pm nearly every day. During this time, the station comes alive through a single student huddled in some campus building. His words manage to break through the crackling with an indistinct voice to talk about both the spectacular and mundane alike.
Matthew first discovered the station through a poster in town last fall. For a while, it was all he listened to, an in to the life he couldn’t have. He could listen to 200.2 and pretend the conversations were ones between him and his friends, that the classes they complained about were his own. He still does. And when he found the frequency still in use after all the students had moved out of the dorms, it was like he found a friend in this lonely season.
The radio leaks white noise for a few more seconds before something else pushes through and echoes in the empty shop. In the crushing heat of July, the stranger's voice is a temporary breeze, something he can always look forward to.
Matthew closes his eyes, resting his cheek against his hand as he listens.
“Ah, I feel like I have so much to discuss today.
“Welcome back to 200.2 AM, where I talk to literally no one about my life. As always, if someone is listening, what you hear here is between you and me, and does not leave space.
“Now that that’s over with…
“Isn’t love kind of odd? I feel like the balance between it and hate is incredibly unequal. When you have love, you hate that it’s there. But when you lose love, you hate that it’s gone.
“Interesting, right?
“I just hope the cycle doesn’t repeat. I’m not sure if I could handle hating love if I ever felt it again.
“But, that’s not the topic for today.
“It’s not uncommon to see people you recognize. At the grocery store, on the street, etcetera, etcetera. And it’s usually the same. They ask about how college is going, you pretend to be in a rush to avoid answering the question, they pretend they care—stuff like that.
“Today, the situation was similar. Except, I actually did care, and was surprised to find that the other person did too. I mean, I know why I cared, but I can’t think of a reason why they would.
“Is that kind of strange? Being attentive to someone you don’t really know? Who can say. I mean, they could be thinking exactly what I am. Ah, but there’s no point in speculation.
“Anyway, I’m not sure. It’s weird. I just haven’t met anyone like that in a while. Everyone seems to be doing something, too busy for you. Honestly, I’m also like that most of the time, but with this person it’s different. I barely even know them, yet I’m sure about that. There’s no logical reason why, but for some reason they’re different.
“I like it.
“It’s nice to just slow down—to move as leisurely as the heat.”