Chapter Text
3rd October. It was a normal Tuesday. Well, normal for everyone besides Chance.
Chance would describe himself as a strong man. One with a good poker face that made even the most confident gamblers fold. Neat hair tied back into a ponytail- grey not due to age but rather due to a gene passed down from his father. His suit was neatly ironed, the tie in perfect order. Upon his head sat his fedora, which he occasionally adjusted out of sheer habit. Beneath said fedora sat a pair of comfortable headphones with “L” and “R” adorning the respective sides. He was the epitome of casual strength, a man who knew what he wanted and how he was going to get it.
Yet here he was. A pizzeria. “Builders Brothers’ Pizza,” adorned the sign. The walls were painted an even off-white tone, the floor matching with its stained oak wood. Booths had a hard ebony wood backing that matched the tables, the seat cushions themselves covered in a stained red leather. Screens blinked above the till, showing the wide array of options. 3 cashier tills were there, But Chance had never seen all three open.
. He was in no way a regular customer. Sure he had come once, maybe twice, when his father had decided they were getting takeout. In all truthfulness, this was usually with Mafioso and his goons (who were close friends with his father) and something about that specific group unsettled him. Maybe it was from the way they looked at his father, but it was probably just the fact they were a mafia group.
However, this time it wasn’t with Mafioso. Or even his father. He was here alone. Specifically here to see someone. He wasn’t even a huge fan of the pizza. All for that stupid boy. He knew it was wrong. A boy liking a boy?! His father had pushed the unnaturality of it upon him since he was a child. Alas, here he was, the composed man, fawning over a pizza boy. His stupid hair, stunning as gold and in a messy ponytail not unlike his, however less collected. That didn’t stop his piercing blue eyes staring into him like a serene skylight. It was nice, refreshing even. Being seen and noticed, not seen and feared. Ugh. Why was he so focused on this boy?! Curse his stupidly gentle features and stupidly perfect smile and stupidly soft hair…
“Are you gonna order or are you gonna just stand there?”
Right. Pizza. He was ordering pizza. “Sorry, I must’ve zoned out,” he murmured, flashing his typical smile at the exhausted cashier. What pizza did he even want? He usually got whatever the others wanted. Not often was it his own choice what he ate.
“What would you recommend?” He asked, genuinely curious for whatever reason.
“Cheese is our most popular, but I like mushroom.” Not the reply he expected, but an answer was blurted out before he could help himself. “I’ll take mushroom then,” he exclaimed almost happily. The blonde smiled at him with a quick, “Name?”
“Oh. Yep. I have a name. Chance.”
That reply felt quick and cut, like the beating of his ever speeding heart. He sat at a nearby table, watching the man taking orders. He was so relaxed! That was probably just due to customer service, but still! How was he so casual and calm, yet Chance could barely keep himself together?
Eventually the pizza came. He didn’t even like mushroom. Why did he order it? Well, it’s not like he had eaten anything else all day, and food was food. He bit into it, avoiding the mushroom with his tongue and politely swallowing the food. He looked at the other customers. Regulars sat at tables, not even ordering while cashiers just nodded politely at them and wrote stuff down. Then there were couples. A man and woman, sat passionately discussing something over a pepperoni pizza. Two women, holding hands and leaning on each other looking out the window, a half-eaten cheese pizza left forgotten on the table. He felt like an idiot. They weren’t ashamed. They probably didn’t even consider it could be wrong.
He only noticed he had finished the pizza when the waiter had come to check the bill. Of course, it was the stupid blonde. Why would fate give him anyone else? He opened his wallet. Hundred bills popped out at first sight. How much was the pizza? 15? He remembered his father usually tipped 200. So he laid down a few hundreds, not bothering to look up at the shocked expression on the poor cashier’s face. Of course, he eventually realised what he had done. “Oh no worries dude. Consider the extra a tip!” Chance elaborated with a thumbs-up, immediately feeling stupid for his awkward gesture.
“Sir, I can’t accept this,” the man (understandably) replied.
“No worries, it’s pocket change,” he mumbled before the blonde could protest, leaving the man to stare at him in awe as he walked off.