Chapter Text
The weather today was gorgeous, and the entire world seemed to be bragging about it. Beautiful flowers in full bloom, a clear, sunny sky, the soft chirping of birds—everything practically screamed that it was going to be a perfect day.
Too bad one specific person couldn't care less.
“Who the hell even orders pizza with toppings this weird?…” Till muttered, the exhaustion heavy in his voice. To say he was in a foul mood would be an understatement. Thanks to a sudden shortage of delivery guys, he’d been pulled into overtime, practically flying from one drop-off point to the next. He’d been racing across the entire city for hours, and the worst part? Their pizzeria was the only one in town, meaning there was literally no escape from the endless orders.
“Especially in a wealthy neighborhood like this…”
People from that part of town usually never ordered from them. Their menu was pretty cheap and basic, and they’d only opened a little while ago. Hyuna kept telling him, “Once the big orders start rolling in, we’ll make more money and finally expand! We’ll hire new delivery guys, too! But until then, you just gotta hang in there, Till.”
So, he prayed every single day for those new couriers to finally show up. If things went on like this much longer, he’d end up throwing himself into the pizza oven. If his boss couldn't find anyone, he’d honestly start looking for recruits himself. But for now...
“ Maybe it's some rich pregnant lady? I heard they crave the weirdest combinations...” Till sighed heavily, scanning the massive houses to find the right street number. “Or another prankster with way too much money to burn. Or some food blogger doing restaurant reviews... Could be literally anyone! But that doesn't change the fact that even the kitchen staff were laughing their asses off making this pizza.”
But Till didn't really have a choice. The faster he delivered this pizza, the faster he’d get some well-deserved rest. At least there hadn't been any other orders coming through for now. Maybe this was Hyuna’s subtle way of letting him catch his breath. After all, it was only one in the afternoon, and the evening rush was bound to be way worse. For now, he just needed to hurry up.
Oh, there it was.
The house looked incredibly luxurious: stark white with a deep navy roof, pristine and without a single blemish. Two stories, complete with a private courtyard. It looked exactly like a dream home straight out of a movie. ‘This customer actually has good taste,’ Till noted, scanning the yard to see if the owner was outside.
Carefully parking his bike by the curb, he grabbed the pizza boxes, walked up to the front door, and gave a polite yet slightly distracted knock.
“Delivery.”
Flustered rustling and hurried footsteps immediately echoed from behind the door, followed by a loud crash. Apparently, the guy was rushing so fast he’d tripped over something and wiped out. Till just rolled his eyes, completely unfazed by the chaos. It took a few more seconds for the customer to finally grace the entrance with his presence and pull the door open.
When Till caught sight of him, his eyebrows knitted even tighter. Was this guy for real…?
“Thanks for bringing the order,” said… a literal prankster. At least, that was the only logical conclusion Till could draw, given the bright party hat, watermelon-shaped glasses, a matching watermelon sweater, and bright yellow tinsel wrapped around his neck. The customer’s face was practically glowing with pure joy, as if he was about to receive the single greatest thing he’d ever wished for.
Till’s eye began to twitch.
“Here’s your pizza,” Till said, quickly handing the boxes over. He pulled the receipt out of his bag, about to ask for the payment, when the customer spoke up.
“Wow, this looks like trash,” the guy said, screwing up his face as he peeked inside the box.
“Excuse me?” Till slowly turned his head, his expression looking as if the guy had just insulted his entire lineage rather than a pizza.
“I would never order something like this,” the customer added, closing the box with a dramatic, deeply offended pout. “I’m literally allergic to pineapples.”
A dead, suffocating silence hung in the air for a few agonizing moments. Until, finally, Till snapped.
“So you're telling me you ordered ten plain pizzas with absolutely nothing on them except a triple serving of pineapples, mustard, and mushrooms, and now it turns out you’re allergic to them?!” Till was doing his absolute best to keep his temper in check, but the sheer weight of the day's exhaustion was crashing down on him all at once. “Are you screwing with me, or do you just have short-term memory loss?”
The guy clutched his chest like he was having a literal heart attack, dramatically taking a step back and nearly dropping the entire stack of pizzas in the process.
“I’m not stupid enough to do something like that,” he protested. Yet, behind his fake indignation, a faint, smug smirk slipped through, making it glaringly obvious that he was thoroughly enjoying every second of this. “Why would I force myself to eat something that’ll literally poison me?”
“I have no idea what kind of weird kinks you rich people have,” Till muttered. Every single second spent on this doorstep was making his urge to bolt skyrocket. Forcing himself to swallow his rage, he shoved the receipt forward. “Look, if it's paid for, it's getting eaten. I suggest you just pay up and figure out what to do with the pizza yourselves. I’m just the delivery guy, not a manager.”
“As if I'd waste my money on something I can't even eat,” the customer scoffed, his frown deepening as he pointedly refused to take the boxes. “I'm getting a refund.”
That was the final straw. Till completely lost his grip on his temper. Right under the customer's bewildered gaze, he snatched the pizza boxes back, having already shoved the receipt into his bag. He turned on his heel, about to head back to the street, when a voice called out to him.
“Excuse me, could I ask you a quick question?”
“What now?” Till stopped dead in his tracks, not even bothering to turn around, his voice dripping with pure indifference.
“Would it be possible to add dried watermelons as a pizza topping?” The guy shifted from his toes to his heels like a bashful toddler, putting on his best innocent act while shyly tapping his index fingers together. “I think you guys have some kind of promo running right now where customers can suggest unusual ingredients… I’ve never seen that anywhere before, and I just really love dried—”
“What the hell do you mean, watermelons??!*” Till whipped around to face him, his expression twisted in absolute fury. “I literally just told you—I’m not a manager! Email our tech support with that garbage and leave me the hell alone if you’re not going to eat your damn order!”
“Alright, alright, I’ll pay! My rabbit actually loves pineapples anyway,” the guy said, hurriedly pulling out a bank card and flailing his arms around erratically.
Till could only let out a defeated sigh. He set the pizza boxes down on a nearby side table and fished the receipt out of his bag once again.
“Just make it quick. I’m going to get in trouble because of your little circus act.”
The transaction went through successfully, and Till finally let out a long, relieved exhale. There was absolutely nothing keeping him here anymore. He could finally go outside and enjoy a well-deserved smoke break. But just as he was stepping back out into the open, a voice called after him yet again.
His expression instantly melted back into utter exhaustion.
“So… what about the watermelons?” the customer practically begged, throwing him a pair of pathetic puppy-dog eyes.
“Like I said—email tech support on our website, or actually read the terms of the promo, because you clearly misunderstood them,” Till snapped, stepping away quickly without waiting for a reply.
“Wait, what’s your nam—” the now-former customer started, but his words were cut short by the front door slamming loudly shut. “Aw…”
Till practically lunged at his motorcycle, revving the engine and speeding back toward the pizzeria as fast as humanly possible. All he wanted right now was to beg Hyuna for a measly twenty-minute break, while praying to whatever gods were listening that he would never, ever have to cross paths with that psycho again