Chapter Text
Normal Guy fiddled with the pen on his desk, gazing as the dark ink bubbled from the tip through the plastic tube. He could never call himself bored, as a non-human being incapable of truly feeling, but waiting for a complaint or request from the office phone took an extensive amount of time, even for someone so patient. In the moment, the liquid served as a metaphor; the blood flowed effortlessly in its body, but the lack of use overwhelmed it. It was almost a perfect description of his own state, minus the blood.
He reminded himself that some days at the job happened to be less busy, and that he shouldn't count on hundreds of tasks when only a handful of people begged him for answers. However, an uncomfortable weight coiled in his stomach, sagging his shoulders as if pulling them down with a string.
For all he knew, his life purpose consisted of maintaining his business, holding it afloat, and expanding its revenue. When there were no customers to please, there was no income to be recorded, no money to be counted, and no satisfaction to soothe Normal Guy’s nervous system. Despite not being able to recognize emotions, as daily goals failed to be met, an uncontrollable itch ticked at his spinal cord, and a tortuous burn melted his insides. He may not be human, but he did have similar, non-functioning organs, and he did feel a certain level of pain that frustrated him.
He was in no means weak or vulnerable to harm, but the last thing he ever wished to be compared to was a human. They drowned in sensation when they were physically suffering, anguished, ecstatic, horrified… Sometimes, tears would stream down their face from empathy for another.
Their species was at the lowest of disadvantages, and Normal Guy felt forever grateful he cared none at all for others.
His prayers were soon answered, however, as the doors of the thick elevator slid open with a high-pitched shing, revealing two of his employees, only one standing at the head of the door. Normal Guy never bothered to remember his name for whatever reason, and this man’s most projecting coworker always called him “Newbie”, so the nickname subconsciously stuck.
The worker cleared his throat, his hands visibly sweating bullets while… Bryce? Chase? Clayton? While his colleague stood behind him, not trying to hide the cigarette in between his lips. The shorter of the two spoke up first, and he couldn’t help but stutter–it appeared as though it annoyed him. “H-Hello sir. Me and…” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely to his right, “well, he was wondering if someone could fix the coffee machine in the breakroom. It’s supposedly been down for…” he twisted his back, mouthing something to his acquaintance, before resuming his original position, “ten whole minutes.”
Normal Guy’s eyes shone a light gray, his polite yet intimidating smile never leaving his expression. “Ten minutes? Here at my corporation, we value patience. You would think you two would know that by now.”
“Oh, don’t give the kid such a hard time, boss.” The tall man strokes his sandy blonde hair back, taking an obvious drag of his cigarette. “He is a newbie after all.”
The employer’s mouth twitched. “What’s your excuse, then, if you’ve been working far longer than this man?”
He waves his hand in dismissal, as if urging Normal Guy to take it easy. “It was him who got all riled up when the coffee was gone. He fell to his knees and pleaded–” his voice shifted an octave higher, clasping his hands together, “Oh you stunning, gorgeous fellow of mine! Escort me to the boss’s office, give me the courage I need to confront him about the breakroom, and you will be handsomely rewarded!” he slumped against the wall after his dramatic display. “That’s what he said to me, word for word.”
“What?” The other gasped with mortification, a flush of red painting his cheeks. “You were the one who was so worked up about no coffee for one morning! You don’t normally smoke at this time anyway, you literally told me that without coffee, you need a drag–”
“Gentlemen!” Normal Guy yelled over their arguing, straightening the two instantly. His eyes were as white as bones. “It does not matter to me who originally wanted coffee. Why on Earth would I care at all? Stop fighting like petty children.” His perfect smile faltered with how hard he clenched his teeth. “I will send someone to fix it tomorrow.”
The blonde’s back hunched from disappointment. “Tomorrow?” A whine left his throat, followed by wisps of smoke that made the newbie cough.
“Dude,” The shorter one whispered and shook his head at his coworker, subtly telling him to shut up. He waved the fumes away to address the boss again. “Thank you, sir. It really means a lot…” a pause, giving a sidewards glare, “to him, that is.”
Finally, Normal Guy could feel his irises shifting back to a darker hue, which relaxed his tense muscles. “Glad to hear that I could help!” He smacked his palms together, his demeanor full of cheer. “Now, get back to work. I expect a large amount of files to be copied by the end of your shift.”
Just as the pair reached to press the lobby button, Normal Guy tsked. “Ah ah ah, you,” he pointed, “care to remind me what the smoking policy is?”
The taller one blinked, unphased from being called out. “There is no smoking policy–”
His cigarette was promptly ripped from his mouth by his acquaintance and thrown into the office sky, disappearing as it fell into oblivion. A shriveled noise of defeat came from the blonde as the shorter one spoke. “He meant sorry, sir, and that he promises to never smoke again,” he grimaced, “especially in the elevator.”
Normal Guy nodded in approval, and gave them permission to leave his presence. A few awkward seconds passed as the door took its sweet time to close, eventually shielding his employees from his view. He was pleasantly surprised to see the newbie still using the elevator; he felt certain that the man had to have been convinced to even walk near it, but he would never know.
Then, just like earlier, Normal Guy was left alone in the void that made up his room. A cloud brushed by his desk, giving it a few seconds of attention, before wisping away. It was yet another metaphor so alike how he was–he, the desk, his clients, the clouds. But this was how life was meant to be, wasn’t it? Pleasing others for the sake of his business, giving them just enough for investments, only to be isolated in the end.
Why did everything feel so empty, though, if that was what he enjoyed the most?
He could not say.
His mug was soon held tenderly in his gray palms, a bright yellow smiley face staring back up at him, urging him to feel content. A short sip was taken not long after, the tea intensely stale, but he did not mind it as much as others might. He, despite the hypothetical riches he had obtained as CEO, was a rather cheap fellow–but even now, the taste of a long forgotten beverage filled him with a sense of loneliness.
It disturbed him, the wave of longing that rolled through his broad frame, and incited a nervous twitch in his neck. He wished he wasn't familiar with this sensation, but it had unfortunately slipped into his daily routine–it frustrated him knowing that he was still affected by the occasional human need.
The emotional traits he shared with humans were very few, but the ones he did get were mildly annoying. He was good at ignoring them, however; who cares about companionship when you could be successful, powerful?
Normal Guy could never think of a concrete answer, but all he knew was that he required nothing but accomplishment in order to be fulfilled.
Even if his body denied him. Even if his mind, in an attempt to betray his perfect goals, distracted him with Earthly temptation.
* * *
“Thank you, thank you… Yes, I was able to find an apartment just fine.” Marianne, or Manon as she preferred to be called, scrubbed a small sponge against some plates while her phone laid squished against her ear. She was used to her parents and being anxious for her; when she even mentioned the idea of moving to another country, they acted as though she asked help with hiding a body. Her appreciation for their concern was endless, naturally, but she was excited for the new opportunities that being in a big city offered.
A fresh start, away from drama and terror.
Ever since the incident that ruined her perception of France, she wished for nothing more than to travel as far away from him as possible. It hurt her heart to leave, truly–she adored the sky, the lights, the food, the everything of her home country, and even a single memory served to make her sick with nostalgia.
However, she would rather be uncomfortable and lonely than in danger. That was the price she was willing to pay.
A fond smile graced Manon’s lips as she listened to the hurried words of her mother. She rolled her eyes, speaking softly in an attempt to soothe. “Mama, it will be alright. I have already found a job opportunity a few blocks away. I'm sure they'll approve of my resume–yes mama, it is in baking. You thought I wouldn't search for a job in baking? What would I do with all of the tips I learned from my intelligent parents?” She teased, but the sincerity in her speech spilled through the phone.
Finally, after successfully cleaning up all of the dishes, Manon ended the conversation. “It must be so late over there, mama. Please, sleep well for me, and tell papa that I miss him so much. I love you–yes, I know you love me too… Yes, I'll call everyday…” she giggled, “goodnight, mama.”
The moment she hung up the phone, her heart ached with reluctance. It was confusing; she was the one who urged her mother to sleep, to leave her alone, to let her independence shine like a beam of sunlight through stormy clouds. Yet, as she stood solitary in her raggedy apartment building, her throat tightened. The room seemed to drop a few degrees in temperature, goosebumps developing along her arms as if a cold hand was grazing her skin.
It was lonely. So, so lonely.
How could she complain, though, when she made the conscious decision to flee her home? How could she even begin to feel regret? Nobody forced her to move somewhere so unlike what she was used to.
And yet, this was where she would stay for now. All alone, in a small apartment, the only noise available for her “comfort” being the constant hum of kitchen utilities.
Manon shook her head in an attempt to dismiss the pessimism from her mind. Nothing could be done now. The clean slate she had dreamed of felt in reach–all she had to do was not get distracted. There were too many instances in the past that did not fill her with pride, but instead shame; she wished to distance herself from those times.
A chance to redeem her confidence and to push down previous humiliation revealed itself once she moved.
Besides, her parents promised that they would visit within the first five months of her stay. She still possessed some amount of support and companionship, even if they lived across the world.
“Ugh…” a groan left her lips, “maybe I should head to sleep early tonight…” she ignored the build-up of sweat greased between her palms, and pushed herself to walk into the bathroom.
Her nightly routine ran smoothly, consisting of combing her bangs and tugging the brush through snarls and tangles that developed throughout her dinner, cleaning her teeth until they sparkled in the mirror, and scrubbing the light makeup from her face. She strolled to her new “bedroom”, if it could be called that, due to the entire apartment exposing all rooms to one another except the restroom. Her suitcase laid unpacked on the cheap flooring, a few nightgowns folded neatly inside and begging for use. Manon complied with their desires, picking one from the bunch.
It was a solid pink dress, just soft enough to be comfortable, but bunched around the shoulders and waist, which alerted Manon it was likely itchy upon wearing. The fabric, the texture, the color… it felt rather empty.
A similar feeling to herself, she wondered in silence. Empty, lost…
She shook her head, undressing from her earlier day clothing and slipping on the pajamas she had been eyeing. She could ponder and think about her emotions all she wanted tomorrow, but tonight, she needed to relax. She had a long day ahead, why would she stay up all night full of anxiety if she could avoid it?
Manon threw her dirty outfit into the corner of the room—a reminder to wash them the following day. Promptly, the lights were turned off with a flick of the light switch, encompassing the room in darkness. She crawled into bed, preparing herself for the future.
As well as ignoring the sleeves of her nightgown, which indeed were itchy.