Chapter Text
Linzer is a classy gal. She isn't too flaunty, unless needed. Linzer is a writer, one that takes pride in her work. Descriptive words, symbolism and detail.
Nothing is amiss in any of her works, and she makes sure of that.
Even when it comes to love, her rules stand. She was always gentle with Creme Brulee, keen on the details, and locked in on all of the shared teasing words.
Though that was all back then, when they still dated.
Now, as she writes in her office, there is nothing to be shared between them. The only sound that fills her ears now is the clanky tap of her typewriter in her office; her graceful fingers pressing onto each key.
Suddenly, a small letter drops to the floor from the mail slot integrated in her door.
“Hm? What could be at my door this hour?” Linzer voiced her thoughts out loud, into the silence of her office. It was approximately 10:00 at night, the streets were still and Linzer found freedom in the silence to continue writing her novel.
But this, this…letter. Appearing at her door uninvited? Who could this be?
As questions wandered in Linzer’s mind, she slowly looked down at the letter in her hands, flipping it over to peek at the address.
Creme Brulee Cookie. Creme Brulee Cookie. What could he want? Then again, the thought of him delivering this first hand…late at night, excited Linzer.
She thought of the late nights they used to spend. Beyond the countless hours of Creme Brulee’s persistent playing, stood the wistful rendezvous they shared.
Linzer smiled at the memory of them, the magical playing of Creme Brulee’s fingers on the keys; the way the sound stuttered as she planted a sweet kiss on his cheek.
“Did he deliver this himself?” Linzer whispered out loud to herself, questioning how this letter was sent.
It was a Friday, and the likelihood of Creme Brulee having a performance was rather slim, considering most of his grand performances were pushed to the weekend and things like practice and random bar shows were more congruent with week days.
He must’ve finished practice–or maybe done a small side job at a local bar nearby.
Linzer’s townhouse was nothing special, and the area was slightly rural. So the fact that Creme Brulee had hand delivered this, stopped his car and walked towards her door; the thought was thrilling.
Linzer held the letter to her chest, a soft breathy sigh exiting her mouth. Linzer walked over to her desk, her thumb gliding underneath the flap, gently ripping it open and pulling out the card. It read, “Happy Valentine's Day!” In glittery red paint and in a cursive font.
Linzer couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at the detail. Linzer slowly opened the card, almost carefully, like it was a case file worth analyzing.
The inside still was colored that same cherry red, the card's words formed in a loud, white, glitzy, slab style font.
“Your presence makes my heart dance to a beautiful rhythm!” Linzer cringes sweetly at the sight, the overly cliche styling of each word.
Though below it, in Creme Brulee’s handwriting, is something a little more like him.
The words read, “I have a performance on the 14th. Please, come see it.”
Then, down below, a small smile written. “:)”
Linzer gently closed the card, slipping it back into the packaging.
Of course she would go. Why wouldn’t she? Though, she’ll need to think of something to get him, like flowers or something special for congratulating his performance.
Linzer took out the card again, flipping over to the back side and seeing the time and specific location of the show.
It read, “The Theatre de croustillant in the Creme Republic, at approximately 7:00 pm.”
‘That place? Isn't it 750 for one normal ticket?’ Linzer exclaimed in her mind, though she was very rational for doing so.
The prices at Theatre de croustillant were insane. Most certainly not fit for Linzer and her budget schedule.
As an author, the prices for publishing and gaining rights to her own books are enough to make somebody light-headed. Additionally comes the other necessities like extra paper for her typewriter, mandatory to complete her ever-changing manuscript.
Sure, typewriters may be a little outdated, but this one was special; her grandmother's. Along with family heirlooms, Linzer has obtained a very ominous, yet ornate pen from her mother and father. As soon as she uttered the words, ‘mystery novelist’ this pen was hers. Maybe a little strange. But still, it fits perfectly with Linzer’s natural mystique.
Linzer’s parents are actually the most chronically analog people you could think of. They are constantly sitting in a reclining couch chair, sitting by the fireplace, blanket wrapped snug and hands holding a book. It’s probably where Linzer gets it from, how she’s so enveloped in books.
In fact, most of her books belonged to her parents. All the ones they've finished are now hers. Linzer’s parents even went far enough to include detailed summaries and adoring notes in the front and back of the book.
Knowing this, it explains Linzer and her own quirks, like biting on her pen. Which is now placed in between her lips, getting ruthlessly gnawed on like a teething toy for a dough baby.
Linzer furrowed her eyebrows in focus as she gazed at the card's back, contemplating how she'll even get to this fancy event.
‘How am I going to get a tick-’
Linzer stopped her train of thought, when all of a sudden, in the matching red envelope, there seemed to be something poking out.
Linzer placed the pen delicately on her desk, careful to not make any sudden movement as the gaze of her eyes kept on the golden shimmer from the contrasting crimson red envelope.
She reached for the card and pulled out a V.I.P ticket. Linzer practically froze. She would be sitting in the front row, seat 31.
‘My favorite number…. of course he did.’
Linzer smiles to herself and puts the terribly expensive ticket back in the not-so-expensive flimsy envelope.
Creme Brulee was undoubtedly keen on the details. Just like Linzer.
“Well…that helps the situation.”
Linzer mused to herself as she sighed.
Linzer got up and walked to her bathroom. Normal routine of brushing her teeth, taming her thick hair and practicing her smile.
It was getting late, and soon tomorrow she would be there, looking up at Creme Brulee and listening to his soulful and atmospheric melodies once again.
And so, their journey begins.
Will these exes get back together?
Or will their popular performer and writer schedules get in the way of this sugary romance?