Chapter Text
It was an eerie night of November (or was it day? You could never tell with Daylight savings). The murky grey skies were cast above the people huddled in the streets. Many were dressed in those big red coats and fancy scarves of theirs. It riled up my anger and simply pissed me off. Look at those buffoons, fighting over an Xbox or something even more equally boring.
Yep, you guessed it. It's Black Friday - officially the worst day of the year. This made matters more painful than usual. And guess which fucking prick volunteered to work? Well, if you guessed me, you're wrong. (Kidding.)
So there I was, in the store. You know which one, right? No? You don't remember?
Fine. I'll tell you again.
I own a music store. Stop laughing, Jesus Christ, I know it's pathetic. You don't need to tell me, my brothers do that already. Anyway I bought it two years ago when I left university. You know, those fancy-ass places with castles as their main entrance and are the most expensive things you've ever had to pay for? Yeah, them. To make things even worse, I went to a fucking Ivy League one. I'm not saying it's name, but it's a small place that begins with Y. Anyway, I dropped out after a year because I could no longer stand anyone telling me how shit I was. But I'll go into more detail later. So, where was I?
Ah yes, my music store. I love it down to every dust speckle. It's like the feeling your girlfriend gets when you give her a giant teddy bear. Do you know that feeling? No? Well it's okay because I don't know either; I'm 100% gay, no homo. So for all you gays out there, let me rephrase: you know that feeling when you stick your dick in a guy's arse? That's how I feel about this store. It's a pain in the ass, but I want it to fuck me. You feel me? Oh. You don't. But the store does.
Coughs. ANYWAY.
So there I was standing behind the counter like usual, and I waited for customers to come in. As a general rule, we don't do Black Friday. Partially because we can't afford a guitar being snapped in two and partially because we dislike a huge influx of customers. That's just a restraining order waiting to happen.
But imagine my surprise when a tall, muscular guy with shoulder-length, brown hair and light brown eyes strolled through the front door. He appeared rather flustered as he clambered through the midst of shoppers. My head instinctively perked up at the sight of the man, as the light hit him so the blond highlights became illuminated in his hair; like a lighthouse beacon. He was just so breathtakingly beautiful.
"Hi. I'm looking for some violin strings," he said, his eyes painting over the luxurious red walls. I swallowed and tried to not act too nervous.
"You play violin?" I asked, my eyebrow raised. He looked more like a cello guy.
"No, I don't. I play the cello -"
Ah. There it was.
"But my daughter plays the violin and one of her strings broke." I nodded.
"Yeah man, I know how it is. I play a viola."
"Really? You look more like a cello guy."
I grinned.
"Trust me, I can do a lot more than viola." Including you. The words were left unspoken. "But I'll get the strings for you."
I turned to reach the shelf behind me, but in a turn of events, they were just out of reach. I cursed myself for placing them on the highest shelf.
"Here, let me," the stranger said, and he came around the counter to reach the shelf with ease. My eyes flicked over his athletic figure and brought the strings down. He then handed them to me and went around the other side again. My hanging mouth turned into a smile.
"Thanks," I said.
"No problem. So what other instruments do you play?"
I tried really hard to not give a gleaming smile. Like, really.
"Oh, you know," I tried my best to act uninterested as I scanned the strings. "I play the guitar, sometimes the piano and rarely a violin."
His mouth tweaked upwards at the last part.
"£45 please."
He glared at me as if I had gone insane.
"Even with the Black Friday discount?" he asked with a slight sadness in his voice. I really didn't have the heart to tell him we didn't do Black Friday, so I quickly covered myself.
"Oh shit. It's Black Friday?" I asked, acting dumb. Of course I knew it was the day of hatred.
"You forgot?" he quirked an eyebrow.
"Well you are the first customer of the day." I paused, pondering upon a discount price. Is 60% sufficient? "£18 please."
He gave me a twenty and I exchanged it for £2 change.
"Thanks," he murmured. "So, uh. Do you want to have coffee sometime?"
I swear, I smiled like a Cheshire cat.
"My God, this is so fast. I don't even know your name."
"Sam. My name is Sam."
"Lucifer," I placed my hand into his and shook it.
"Your parents named you after a fallen archangel?" he asked in disbelief.
"Well, they did always say I was a little Hell raiser."
He snorted.
"They sound like nice people."
"They were the best," I smiled bitterly. "So when are you free?"
"Uh. Now, but you're working."
"Fuck it," I said, jumping over the counter.
"You're just going to leave?"
"I own the place."
"You rebel."
"I know," I said, turning off the lights and turning the sign to say closed. We exited the store and I locked up.
Perhaps Black Friday wasn't so bad after all.