Work Text:
The desk in his tent was full of piles of documents and tickets. Filing cabinets were arranged neatly by date. Everything was organized perfectly in its proper place. The black-haired man liked order and things that were under his control.
However, there was one object inside the tent that he never showed to anyone. An old wooden cabinet, always kept tightly locked. Only after finishing all his work that night did the Ticket Taker open the cabinet door.
Inside were stored dozens of photographs. All of them featuring the same person: [Name].
His gaze fell upon the topmost photo. [Name] was laughing in front of the café where the girl worked; her head bowed with her eyes crinkled from laughing too much. That photo had been taken nearly a year ago.
In another row, there was a photo of [Name] reading a book at the café. [Name] laughing with her friends. [Name] hugging a warm cup of coffee as the rain fell, and a photo of [Name] walking home while yawning tiredly. There was even a photo of the girl sleeping on the train, her head resting against the window glass.
The Ticket Taker remembered exactly when each photo had been taken. He remembered the date, the time, the weather, even what [Name] had been wearing at the time. The grey-eyed man remembered all those details without any effort.
He glanced once more at the rows of photos inside the cabinet. If [Name] ever found out about all this, the girl would surely think him strange. Perhaps creepy. Perhaps obsessive. Because there was no normal person who remembered so many details about someone. No normal person who kept every stolen photograph as if they were the most precious objects in the world.
"If I were you, I'd be embarrassed."
A voice from behind made him start. Jester was already leaning against the tent entrance—it was impossible to tell how long the man had been standing there. His lips curved into a wide smile.
"Truly remarkable," Jester said as he stepped closer. "I knew you liked that girl. But I didn't realize your obsession had reached this stage."
"I don't know what you're talking about," the Ticket Taker replied.
"Oh, Bil." Jester chuckled. "You have more photos of [Name] than the number of circus administration documents you manage."
"That is not true."
"You're counting them in your head right now, aren't you?" Jester taunted.
The Ticket Taker averted his gaze. "Don't compare me to him."
"Oh?" Jester raised one eyebrow. "Why not?"
"Pierrot is emotional."
"And you?"
"I am rational."
Jester shrugged, then leaned casually against the edge of the desk. "In my opinion, Pierrot is far more normal than you. At least he has a sense of shame."
"I have shame as well."
"You both have collections of stolen photographs," Jester retorted, ignoring the defense. "You have over fifty photos."
Jester laughed lightly as he turned his body toward the tent's exit. "Well then, good luck, Bil."
Silence once again swept through the room after Jester's footsteps had truly vanished into the distance. The Ticket Taker stood quietly for a few moments, before finally picking up his phone from the desk. He typed a short message to [Name]:
I'll pick you up after work. We'll have dinner at Solstice.
After pressing send, the Ticket Taker continued with his work as if nothing had happened. Yet behind him, the dozens of photographs of a smiling [Name] stood as proof: that his entire life had revolved around one woman.