Work Text:
The stools weren’t on the tables.
It was the first thing Bob noticed, same as it had been the first thing he’d noticed the day before and the day before that. He didn’t particularly care for stools, be that these specific ones or just… chairs in general, really, but when something has been the same for a long time and then suddenly changes, it really draws your attention. Even if that something that changes is stools.
He ambles around the classroom, hefting each stool up onto the desk it was below, clearing the floor so his mop would find it obstacle-free. Well, as obstacle-free as a classroom floor could be- there were always some items and pieces of furniture that would menace him for an eternity.
Ryland (“Don’t call me Mr Grace, Bob, makes me feel a bit fossilised when it doesn’t come from a kid!”) had always made sure that the stools were already on the desks when Bob came around to clean up. He’d always greet him warmly, too, and ask about his family- it’d been a few years since Bob’s niece had been in Ryland’s class, but the teacher still checked in with Bob about how she was finding high school.
Bob hoped he’d be back soon.
He’d been gone for over a week, now, but the teachers desk at the front of the classroom was still as cluttered as ever- if Ryland had taken any of his desk items with him, it wasn’t anything Bob could notice. A spot in the centre had been cleared, however- somewhere for the substitutes to keep their laptops and paperwork.
The desk chair had probably been used more in the last week than the entire year before it- when Bob came into the classroom, Ryland tended to be perching on the side of the desk or one of the tables, or pacing back and forth across the room. He wasn’t much of a chair guy, from what Bob could tell. Probably good for his spine. Couldn’t go wrong with a healthy spine.
With all the stools now placed on their desks, Bob surveyed the room again. It felt… wrong, somehow, without the teacher who was meant to be in it. Colder than it had been before.
(He knew it wasn’t a physical coldness, either- he’d just managed to fix the thermostat).
Hopefully, Ryland would be back in the next couple of days, and Bob could grill him for leaving him with substitutes who didn’t put the stools on the desks, Ryland would ask how Bob was doing and all would be well in the classroom again.
Steph hated the smell of eggs.
Now, don’t get her wrong, she liked eggs conceptually. Just like she had enjoyed beer, conceptually, back when she worked in the pub, and how she had been a fan of pizza conceptually delivering for Domino’s. Actually working with such intensely scented products was a little less fun in practice, especially when it took up so much of her time.
Still, she spent so much money at the laundromat trying to get egg-smell out of her uniforms.
Although she definitely hated the eggs, she couldn’t truly say that she hated her job. Eleanor was usually kind and gave Steph decent hours- even accepting her ending her shifts a little early when her childcare fell through (which admittedly wasn’t all that often. Usually someone in her family would be willing to take Leo for a while, sweet kid that he was and big family that she had). It was good! Ben in the kitchen would give her an extra lunch portion to take home, sometimes, if he knew Leo would like it. It was a good place to work.
Her favourite part about it, though, was the Good Regulars. The ones who were always polite, never asked too many prying personal questions, treated her like an actual human being and typically had easy orders- same thing, time and time again. Yellow-Raincoat-Glasses almost hit all of these points- except the easy orders one.
It had infuriated her, initially- most repeat diner visitors would get the same thing every time, maybe rotate between two or three options. But Yellow-Raincoat-Glasses hadn’t had the same thing twice the entire time she’d been working here. Sure, she didn’t work every day, or the same shift every day, but she usually saw him a few times a week and it was different every time.
Even his drink would vary.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t be infuriated for too long, because Yellow-Raincoat-Glasses was just so damn sweet. He greeted her chirpily by name (“Heya, Steph! What’s on special today?”), left a tip that was small in general but nice from a teacher (she knew how little they made!) and would neatly arrange any empty dishes at the edge of the table when he finished eating so her clearing would be easier. What a sweetheart.
Something about his earnest little face made her want to take him home and make sure he was being properly looked after like her Leo, even though Steph was pretty certain he was older than her and definitely too old to be her son.
She did see bits of her Leo in him, though. Something in their mannerisms matched up. If Yellow-Raincoat-Glasses was the sort of person her son turned out like, she thinks she’d be pretty happy.
He hadn’t been around in a while, though, and it was starting to concern her a little. It’d only been a few weeks, sure, but that feels like a lot when you’re used to seeing someone every time you work mornings.
Steph kept catching herself looking out the window, preparing a speech about the special of the day every time she saw a flash of yellow material outside, but it was never the person she was hoping to see. When Yellow-Raincoat-Glasses finally returned (and she was sure he would), Steph would give him a good telling off for worrying her like that. Then she’d take his order, whatever it may be, and feel like things were a little more normal again.
Kynsleighh-Jaeyne (or just Jay, please, they couldn’t wait to be old enough to change it properly, they had no idea what their mother was thinking with that one, bless her heart) was absolutely loving their work experience role. Well… it could be more interesting. To be perfectly honest, a lot of it was observing and filing and making coffees. And laminating, but that was pretty fun. Jay loved the laminator.
Still, they were working in an actual lab. A real one! That people worked in! For real! Yeah, sure, they weren’t really getting involved in much themself, but they got to watch and ask questions and they were learning so much more in these few weeks than they had all through high school so far. Man, robotics was awesome.
Jay had really missed actually enjoyable science. Their middle school experience had been wonderful, glorious, splendid, and so insightful when it came to learning what they actually wanted to do with their life.
High school was… not like that.
Mr. Dennis was one of the dullest people that Jay had had the misfortune of meeting. He spent every lesson they’d had so far giving the class a number in the textbook and telling them to read it and answer the questions at the end. Then he would sit back, drink his soup and play games on his phone until the bell rang. Jay had tried to engage and ask questions, but had simply been redirected to the textbook. They had tried escalating to the head of year, but apparently the textbook was “good enough” and Mr Dennis was a “fine enough teacher, Kynsleighh-Jaeyne, now go back to class”. Admittedly, they could have escalated further, but they needed to get their application out for work experience with a teacher reference and they were drastically running out of time.
So! They’d gone to Mr. Grace. When they rocked up to his classroom, he had been overjoyed to see them. It’d been a couple of years since they’d been in his class, but Mr. Grace still recalled Jay’s favourite topics (“We’re lookin’ for robotics, right, Jay-o?”) and had been more than willing to give them a reference for their work experience application.
He’d done more than that, actually- he’d sat down with them and walked through the places they were applying for, finding which ones would best suit their interests and adding a few that Jay hadn’t considered.
They had received invitations for interviews at a few of the places, and Jay knew that Mr. Grace’s reference will have very much helped with that. Mr. Grace had helped them prep for the interviews, also- it was like they were back in middle school a student in his class once more. Much, much better than Mr. Dennis.
Looking around the lab, laminated paper in hand and ready to observe, they were once again overjoyed to have got this experience.
They couldn’t wait to tell Mr. Grace all about it when they finished.
Jean was a little miffed, to be honest. Very mildly miffed.
She’d ordered a new plant pot, just a few weeks ago, and it had finally arrived. A beautiful cast stone piece, she just couldn’t wait to get it into her apartment. It would replace a chipped old ugly thing at the end of her kitchen counter- the plant in it was doing alright, but the state of the pot agonised her every time she had to see it.
Apparently, she’d have to see it for a long time, because the strapping young lad from apartment 4A had seemingly dropped off the face of the earth.
Jean should probably be a bit more polite- she hadn’t asked him if he’d bring the pot up for her when it arrived, but it was just the sort of thing that he did. It was far too heavy for her own old bones to manage, especially with the elevator down. 4A had always been willing to help her in the past, and she’d sort of assumed that he would do the same this time.
She was pretty certain he hadn’t moved out. He would’ve told her. He was just that sort of upstanding fellow- he wouldn’t leave an old lady in her time of need! But every time she left the building, she saw her poor, heavy parcel in the lobby just waiting to be in her kitchen and she got just a little more concerned. She’d tried knocking on his door, even slid a little note under (and it was polite! Not just about the plant pot!). When 4A got back from wherever it was he had vanished to, she knew he’d appreciate her excellent writing.
When he’d first moved in to the building, he’d been a little abrupt with her- she’d tried to introduce herself while he was moving his boxes and he’s almost snapped at her! Perhaps she should’ve been a little less demanding when he was trying to move himself in, but it wasn’t Jean’s fault she wanted to know all about him! That’s just what neighbours do!
She’d learned quite a lot, over the years- he always rode his bicycle to work, he didn’t particularly enjoy her choice in music (“Miss Williams, it’s not the jazz, it’s the volume. It’s 2am, we have very thin walls and I have work tomorrow. I’ll listen to it with you tomorrow afternoon, maybe?”) and he was very willing to carry any number of small or large parcels up the stairs for her, provided she told him what was in them. He hadn’t been too impressed with the glitter when the box failed right in front of his door. She’d needed that glitter, though! It was necessary. She couldn’t quite remember what for, but she knew it was.
He was a good lad, and had more patience for her than her own children… and grandchildren. And nephews. 4A was good.
Jean would really like for him to get her plant pot up to their floor. She’d like him to come back in general, honestly.
Ship was empty empty empty. All could Hear was own movements, gentle [thrum] of machinery nothing like {thrum} of own home. Been alone before, physical, body alone, but alone Body alone Being are different need both stop, please please please. Want want want Home back, home Place with home Beings. Require require require. Require require require. Require require require.
Require require require.