Archive of Our Own ^beta

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The end of the shift always left Elliot with a paradoxical feeling: at once a relief and a burden. Relief for leaving behind the suffocating heat of the kitchen, the incessant ringing of the phone, and the jingling of coins in the register. A burden, because the silence of the street never seemed enough to wash from his mind the chorus of voices that had followed him all day.

The glass door of the pizzeria shut behind him with a dry clack, and the “Closed” sign reflected the yellowish glow of the nearest lamppost. Elliot drew air deep into his lungs as if it were the first breath in hours. The damp, cold night wind slipped under his red visor and made the freckled skin of his arms prickle.

The smell.
That damned smell of baked dough, of tomato sauce, of melted cheese clinging to his hands and apron. He could shower twice, scrub until his skin turned red, and he’d still feel the scent seeping from his pores. It was almost a part of him — and, deep down, maybe it really was.

“Family business,” he always reminded himself. That was the justification he clung to for enduring overtime, for smiling even when someone yelled at the counter, for swallowing hard when an arrogant customer complained that the pizza was “under-topped.” It was his father’s legacy, his younger sister’s livelihood, the weight he carried even when it all seemed too heavy.

His footsteps echoed firmly against the uneven asphalt. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his black cargo pants, trying to hold off the chill of the night. The neighborhood was nearly deserted, lit only by lampposts that creaked in the wind. Closed windows, some glowing faintly inside, gave the impression of a sleeping city — but Elliot knew that somewhere, behind the silent facades, people were still moving, fighting, laughing, or crying.

He just wanted to get home.
Lie down.
Close his eyes.
And forget.

But, as happened on the worst nights, fate decided to toy with him.

Turning the corner, he saw his house at the end of the street — a simple building, with a wooden porch that creaked under weight. The first thing he noticed was the silhouette sitting on the steps.

Elliot froze immediately. His heart beat faster, not from fear, but sheer frustration. He already knew who it was.

The ridiculous hamburger-shaped hat, the pair of shiny pink glasses catching the dim light, the tail swishing lazily like that of a bored cat… there was no mistaking it.

007n7.

Sitting there as if he belonged, as if it were natural to invade someone else’s night.

Elliot closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. The weight of the entire day seemed to double on his shoulders at once. Not tonight. Not after twelve hours on his feet serving people who never even remembered his name.

— Not again… — he muttered, barely a whisper.

But there was no choice. He had to pass by him to get inside. And if he knew the hacker even a little, ignoring him wasn’t an option.

Elliot’s steps echoed on the sidewalk. When the porch creaked under his weight, 007n7 lifted his head. His smile was crooked, lazy, drunken. His glasses had slipped down his nose, and his half-lidded brown eyes gleamed with the artificial light of alcohol.

— Well, well… — his voice came out slow, mocking. — The prince of the pizzeria finally made it home.

Elliot stood still for a moment, studying the scene. The hacker’s tail wrapped idly around the railing, his red horns caught the lamplight, and his body swayed as if fighting not to topple over. Clearly drunk. Clearly lost.

He crossed his arms, face closed. — What are you doing on my porch, 007n7?

The hacker spread his arms, almost theatrically, letting out a short laugh. — Waiting for you, of course. Who else would I be waiting for? The mailman?

Elliot sighed, too tired for games. — You followed me here?

— Maybe. — 007n7 shrugged, his tail thumping against the wood. — Or maybe I just got lost. Drank too much… you know how it is.

— I don’t. — Elliot’s reply was sharp. — I don’t drink until I pass out on someone else’s steps.

007n7’s smile faltered for a second, but quickly returned, forced. — Fair enough. But I’m not on just anyone’s steps. I’m on yours. Isn’t that special?

Elliot’s patience was hanging by a thread. He rubbed his temples with his fingertips, rage pulsing beneath the practiced calm of a customer service worker. — Don’t you have a dorm? A friend? Somewhere else that isn’t… my house?

The silence that followed was strange. For a moment, 007n7 had no answer. He turned his face toward the empty street, as if the shadows might hand him an excuse.

— I don’t want to see Noli right now. — The confession came out low, nearly swallowed by the wind. — We fought. And I’m not in the mood to go back to the dorm and stare at the walls.

Elliot’s chest tightened against his will. He didn’t want to pity him. Didn’t want to care. But the raw vulnerability in that voice… it didn’t match the mocking hacker who lived to irritate him.

— So you decided to use my porch as a drunk motel? — he shot back, harsher than he intended.

— Not exactly. — 007n7 looked back at him, and something had shifted in his eyes. An emptiness, a silent plea he might not even know he was making. — I came here because you’re the only idiot who hasn’t kicked me out yet.

The words hit heavy. Elliot opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came. He felt the impact of the phrase like a punch, as if it had revealed more about the hacker than he himself wanted to admit.

The clerk folded his arms tighter, seeking steadiness. — I should. — His voice was low, almost trembling. — You tried to burn down the pizzeria. My family’s pizzeria. You have no idea what that place means to me.

— I know. — 007n7’s laugh was bitter, humorless. — And if it had worked, I would’ve laughed in your face. But… — he stopped, his fingers curling into a fist against the step — …the truth is, I don’t even know why I do this shit.

Elliot’s breathing grew heavier. He was exhausted, furious, confused. But above all, intrigued.

— You do it because you like to destroy. — The accusation slipped out before he could stop it. — That’s who you are, isn’t it?

— No. — The reply came fast, almost desperate. — I do it because it’s easier to break others than to look at myself.

The silence that followed was almost painful. Elliot could hear the wind whistling, the distant crack of a branch, even the fast pounding of his own heart.

And there, staring at that clumsy, drunken, broken hacker, Elliot realized the night was only just beginning.

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Elliot wasn’t sure when exactly he had crouched down. Maybe it was instinct, maybe exhaustion, maybe just the weight of the confession forcing his knees to bend. What mattered was that now he was almost at the same level as 007n7, staring into those alcohol-reddened brown eyes, trying to decipher whether there was still some trace of humanity behind the chaos he carried.

The hacker kept his tail coiled around the railing as if it were the only thing holding him up, his fingers tapping impatiently against the wooden step. The sarcastic smile was gone—replaced by a hollow, weary expression, like someone who had fought the whole world and lost.

Elliot swallowed hard. — You don’t have to keep living like this.

The words slipped out unplanned, as if they had been born straight from his throat without passing through his brain. A part of him regretted it immediately—because, after all, since when did he care about the man who had tried to set his family’s pizzeria on fire?

But another part, quiet and stubborn, knew it was true.

007n7 let out a low, broken laugh that didn’t match the mischievous aura he usually carried. — And you don’t have to care. I’m a problem, Elliot. I always have been. Ask Noli…

The name came out almost choked.
And it was as if a crack opened inside him.

— What happened? — Elliot asked, his voice softer than he meant.

For a moment, 007n7 didn’t answer. His gaze drifted somewhere down the street, as if the shadows were projectors of memories.

The dorm smelled of dust and cheap energy drinks, the flickering TV showing some random program neither of them was paying attention to. Noli sat on the floor, hesitant, while 007n7 spun the strange crown in his hands, the horns gleaming under the television light.

— Just try it. It’ll be fun. — His voice was full of that forced confidence that hid insecurity.

Noli frowned. — This doesn’t sound like a good idea…

— Since when do you care about good ideas? — 007n7 teased, placing the crown on his friend’s head before he could refuse.

The glow was instant. A strange aura enveloped Noli, and his eyes flickered. He wasn’t just Noli anymore. He was something else. Something that shouldn’t have been there.

In that moment, 007n7’s chest filled with pride and terror all at once. And from then on, nothing was ever the same.

The hacker blinked, returning to the present. — I made him wear that stupid crown. And now he… he’s not himself anymore. — His sharp teeth bit into his lower lip, nearly drawing blood. — I ruined him. I ruined the only friend who still believed in me.

Elliot stayed silent, absorbing the words. The cold night wind carried the faint smell of wet earth, as if rain was on its way.

— You didn’t mean to hurt him. — His voice was calm but steady.

— But I did. — 007n7 shot back, his tone heavy. — I always do. It’s like… — he gestured with his hands, searching for words — …like all I know how to do is destroy. I step into people’s lives and turn into fire. And you know that better than anyone.

The memory of the fire struck Elliot before he could stop it.

The smell of smoke filled every corner of the pizzeria. Flames licked at the entrance curtains before the extinguisher managed to hold them back. Customers screamed, fleeing through the chaos, while he tried to organize everything with his heart pounding in his chest.

Outside, among the crowd on the sidewalk, Elliot had spotted the unmistakable silhouette of 007n7 laughing—a loud, mocking, satisfied laugh.

The fire hadn’t destroyed everything, but the trauma stuck.
And the image of that laughter never left Elliot’s memory.

Elliot’s green eyes narrowed, though his voice came out restrained. — You almost destroyed everything I had. My family could’ve lost the pizzeria. My sister… you have no idea what that meant.

007n7 held his gaze for a few seconds, then looked away, as if unable to bear it. — I know. And the worst part? — He laughed, but without joy. — I can’t even fully hate myself for it. Because a part of me… a rotten part… liked seeing you lose control. Liked knowing I could touch something that mattered to you.

Elliot felt his blood boil, but he also caught the hidden truth in the confession: it wasn’t pride. It was self-hatred. Someone punishing himself out loud.

He drew in a long breath. — You can still choose to be different.

The hacker lifted his head, eyes glossy from both alcohol and what looked like shame. — You talk like it’s easy.

— It never is. — Elliot placed a hand on his shoulder. It was a firm gesture, but not aggressive. And 007n7’s reaction was almost childlike: a jolt, as if he couldn’t remember the last time someone touched him without violence.

For a few seconds, the two stayed still. The silence of the street, the distant barking of a dog, the wind tugging at Elliot’s red visor—all of it felt suspended.

The hacker took a deep breath, his voice coming out as a whisper: — I hate how much you make me want to be someone better.

Elliot raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t hold back a faint smirk. — Then maybe you don’t hate me that much after all.

The words hung in the air, heavy and light at once. Their eyes locked, and for an instant it seemed as if the whole world had shrunk to fit only on that porch, under that lamplight, between those two lives so different and yet colliding.

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The silence after that last sentence seemed to have a life of its own.

"I hate how much you make me want to be someone better."

Those words echoed in Elliot’s head like the toll of a cracked bell, repeating in crooked reverberations. He wanted to reject them, wanted to stand up, walk inside, lock the door and leave 007n7 out in the cold night — but his legs wouldn’t obey.

It was as if he were stuck. Not to the ground, but to the hacker’s eyes.

007n7 looked away first, laughing softly, almost embarrassed, as if he had made a mistake. His red tail lashed impatiently through the air before curling back around the railing.

— Forget it. — he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. — I was talking crap. Must be the booze.

Elliot frowned. — It didn’t sound like a lie.

— I don’t even know what’s a lie anymore. — 007n7 sighed, resting his chin on his fist. — I spend so much time making up versions of myself… the unbeatable hacker, the fun terrorist, the guy who doesn’t care about anything. But then I’m alone and… — his voice cracked, and he swallowed hard. — And there’s nothing left. Just a pathetic kid who doesn’t know who he is.

Elliot felt something inside him give way. The anger was still there, alive, but mixed now with a sting of pity he didn’t want to feel.

— You’re not pathetic. — he said firmly.

— Ha! — 007n7 laughed, showing his sharp teeth. — Coming from you, the perfect son, model worker, devoted brother… You have no idea what it’s like to be a failure.

— And you have no idea what it’s like to carry the weight of never being allowed to fail. — Elliot shot back, his voice harsher than he intended.

The hacker blinked, surprised. For a moment, the mockery disappeared completely. — You… feel trapped too?

Elliot took a deep breath, his gaze wandering down the empty street. — I can’t let my family down. I can’t explode, I can’t fail. Everyone expects me to smile, to endure, to be the guy who fixes everything. — He looked back at 007n7, his green eyes shining under the lamplight. — Do you know how exhausting it is never being allowed to fall apart?

The silence grew heavy. The hacker seemed to search for something to say, but nothing came. For the first time, maybe, Elliot felt they were on the same level. Two sides of the same prison.

— Then maybe we’re just… two idiots trying not to drown. — 007n7 finally said, with a sad smile.

Elliot couldn’t help it: he let out a low laugh. — Two idiots, yeah.

For a moment, the air seemed to change. The cold of the night gave way to something warm, uncomfortable, rising from his chest to his throat.

The hacker stared at him, his brown eyes flecked with red locked on his. The silence now was different — not empty, but charged.

Elliot stood up, wiping his hands on his apron, as if he needed to keep his hands busy. — You should go.

— I don’t want to go back to the dorm. — 007n7’s voice came out almost childlike, without irony, without mask. — I don’t want to face Noli. Not tonight.

Elliot stood frozen at the doorway, the cold key in his hand. He could simply turn it, go inside, shut the door, and that would be the end of it.

But he didn’t.

— And if I come in, what do you think I’ll do? — 007n7 asked, raising an eyebrow, his teasing smile returning by reflex. — Steal your fridge?

— Maybe. — Elliot replied flatly, though his lips threatened to curve into an involuntary smile.

— Or… — the hacker leaned forward a little, his horns gleaming in the light — …maybe I just want a place where I don’t have to feel like a monster for a few hours.

Elliot’s heart pounded too hard in his chest.

He hated to admit it, but he believed him.

He closed his eyes for a moment, drew a deep breath, and when he opened them again, the decision was made.

Without a word, he turned the key and opened the door. The creak echoed through the silent night.

— Come in.

007n7 blinked, surprised. — You’re serious?

— Just get in before I regret it.

The hacker hesitated for a moment, as if he truly hadn’t expected to be accepted. Then he stood slowly, almost stumbling under the weight of the alcohol, and took his first steps toward the entrance. His tail dragged along the floor, and for a moment it seemed heavier than threatening.

As he crossed the threshold, Elliot noticed something strange: the smell of smoke he always associated with 007n7 wasn’t there. Instead, there was only the stench of cheap alcohol and a trace of… vulnerability.

He closed the door behind them, feeling as though he was closing much more than just the house. He was closing an invisible line that could never be undone.

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The door closed with a click that seemed to echo through the silent room. The soft light of the lamp hanging from the ceiling illuminated the space, revealing every simple detail of Elliot’s home: small frames, family photos on the living room wall, the kitchen with the smell of food already cold, the fridge humming faintly.

007n7 stepped inside, stumbling slightly on the rug. His brown eyes scanned the room from corner to corner, analyzing every object as if it were uncharted territory. He tossed his burger hat onto the couch, glasses still crooked, and his tail swayed slowly, tracing invisible lines in the air.

— Hm. — He muttered, as if examining the place. — Not so bad. Almost cozy, even.

Elliot raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. — “Almost” means you don’t fully approve.

007n7 shrugged, smirking slightly. — I like places that don’t kick me out at the first chance. This is… tolerable.

The clerk took a deep breath, keeping his composure. — Just don’t touch anything without asking.

— I can’t promise that — he joked, but his voice came out low, almost shy. — But I’m in a “good mood” today, kinda drunk, but not messy.

Silence returned. Both knew the night wasn’t over yet, and that the real reason 007n7 was there wasn’t a joke or provocation. There was something heavier in the air, a weight even the alcohol couldn’t completely hide.

Elliot sat on the edge of the couch, watching him. — So… why did you really come? — he asked, his voice firm, but with a hint of care he didn’t even recognize in himself.

007n7 lowered his gaze, his fingers fiddling with the hem of his loose black shirt. — Because… I don’t want to face Noli. Because, after that crap with the crown, all I wanted was to disappear for a few hours. — He took a deep breath. — And you’re the only one who doesn’t throw me out right away for some reason.

Elliot’s heart beat faster. He felt anger and compassion mixing, a knot forming in his stomach. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to kick the hacker out.

— You don’t have to drag me into your chaos. — Elliot said, realizing his voice came out softer than he intended.

007n7 raised his eyes and met Elliot’s intense green gaze. For a few seconds, the whole world seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of them, the yellow light of the living room, and the heavy silence of the night.

— I know. — He murmured. — But you don’t let me go.

Elliot frowned, confused. — Don’t let you go?

The hacker inhaled deeply, releasing the air slowly. — I mean… you make me face the fact that I’m not just an annoying idiot. — He chuckled softly, but the laugh sounded broken. — You make me feel like I could be different. That maybe I don’t have to be a walking disaster.

The silence fell heavy. Elliot didn’t know exactly how to respond. He had never thought someone like 007n7 could open his heart so directly. The usual sarcasm was there, but only on the surface; underneath, there was raw vulnerability.

— Do you really think you can be different? — Elliot asked, not realizing his voice trembled slightly.

— I… don’t know. — The answer came out almost a whisper. — But when I’m with you… it feels like I could try.

Elliot blinked, surprised. He didn’t know if he should feel angry for being used as this kind of “emotional anchor” or touched by it. His heart raced, a mix of confusion and something he didn’t yet have a name for.

007n7 leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his tail dragging along the floor. — I don’t deserve this. — He murmured, almost ashamed. — Kindness. After everything I’ve done, you… you still accept me.

Elliot felt a pang in his chest. — I… I’m not perfect. I don’t always know how to deal with you. But I won’t leave you stranded.

The hacker lifted his head, meeting his eyes. — And I hate that. — He gave a low, bitter laugh. — I hate that you make me want to be someone better.

— Then I guess you’re not such a bad person after all. — Elliot said, calmer now.

For a moment, the air grew heavy again. Both breathed slowly, aware of each other’s presence, of the charged tension, of the strange closeness forming between them.

007n7 leaned back on the couch, closing his eyes for a moment. — You know… I never get like this with anyone. I never let anyone see me so… broken.

Elliot stayed seated, watching him. — I know. And that’s why I’m here. — He lowered his gaze, feeling something inside him give way. — You don’t have to go through everything alone.

The hacker opened his eyes again, locking on his. A heavy silence fell, but it wasn’t uncomfortable — it was charged with the unspoken, with understanding, with closeness.

— So… you’re really gonna let me stay here for the night? — He asked, almost childlike, without the usual teasing.

— Yes. — Elliot replied, and for the first time, a small genuine smile slipped out. — But only for one night. Tomorrow you’ll have to face your problems.

007n7 smirked, and this time it was sincere. — Thanks, Elliot.

The tension eased slightly, and the two settled on the couch. Their conversation continued in softer tones, quiet reflections, stories told in whispers, with Elliot listening more than speaking, and 007n7 opening up with more honesty than he’d ever admit.

Eventually, the night wore on and exhaustion took over. Elliot stood, grabbed a blanket, and tossed it over the hacker. — Better cover up, it’s cold tonight.

007n7 closed his eyes, mumbling a barely audible “thanks.”

Elliot headed upstairs, but the feeling of closeness, of something unexpected and new, lingered.

They weren’t friends. Not yet.

But that night, in the silence of the house and the moonlight filtering through the window, two opposite worlds began to meet.

And 007n7 finally felt that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t completely lost.

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The night crept on, slow and silent. The moon cast silver beams across the room, slipping through the thin curtains and brushing Elliot’s face as he watched 007n7 lying on the couch. His breathing was uneven, still marked by alcohol and exhaustion, but there was something else there: a fragile sense of tranquility that Elliot hadn’t expected to provide.

The clerk took a deep breath, feeling his chest tighten. He knew letting the hacker sleep there was a risky decision — 007n7 could wake up annoyed, go out to drink more, or try to stir up some mischief. But even so, something urged him to take care of him.

He approached the couch, kneeling slightly so as not to startle him.

— You won’t be able to sleep properly there. — His voice came out calm, steady, but without any demand.

007n7 opened his eyes, blinking slowly, his head still resting on the arm of the couch.

— And where do you suggest I sleep then? — The teasing was present, but weak, almost a reflex of old habit rather than real intent.

— In the bed. — Elliot answered without hesitation. — I… can lend you a part of it.

The hacker raised an eyebrow, surprised.

— Just a part? — He let out a quiet laugh, the sound seeming genuine, without sarcasm this time.

— Yes. A safe part. — Elliot stood and pulled the blanket from the couch, holding it as if it were a shield protecting them both. — Come on.

007n7 hesitated, his brown eyes fixed on Elliot’s green ones. For a moment, he seemed to weigh whether or not to trust him. Then, slowly, he stood, still unsteady, and followed him to the bed.

Elliot adjusted the pillow and blanket.

— Here. — He indicated the space beside him. — Just stay still.

The hacker lay down, wrapping himself in the blanket, and turned his gaze away, still embarrassed.

— I… I’m not easy to deal with.

— I know. — Elliot murmured. — But I won’t throw you out.

A comfortable silence fell. Not empty, but filled with subtle sensations: the other’s scent, the shared warmth, the simple sound of each other’s breathing.

007n7 closed his eyes, his tail curling lightly around the blanket, his horns reflecting the soft light of the room.

— Thank you, Elliot. — His voice came low, almost a whisper. — For not leaving me alone.

Elliot felt something release inside him, a tension he hadn’t even realized he carried.

— No need to thank me. — He murmured, looking away. — Just sleep.

And so they remained, side by side, separated only by the blanket, sharing a space neither of them had expected to. There were no kisses, no explicit confessions. Only silence, warmth, and safety.

And, for the first time in a long while, 007n7 felt he could truly relax. That he could sleep without fear, without guilt crushing his chest. That there was someone willing to endure his darkness without judging him.

Elliot, meanwhile, lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, thinking about how strange the world was. How someone he should hate could suddenly stir care and compassion within him. How the night could turn resentment into closeness, how small sparks of kindness could illuminate someone’s darkness.

Their breathing slowly fell into sync. The steady rhythm, the stillness of the house, the faint chill seeping through the window — everything conspired to create a small refuge in the middle of real life’s chaos.

And that night, between disagreements and conversations, between guilt and patience, Elliot and 007n7 found a strange kind of peace.

They weren’t friends yet.

They weren’t declared lovers.

And maybe they never should be.

But that night, in the quiet and the moonlight, two opposing worlds finally learned to coexist, and that was already more than either of them could have hoped for.

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