Chapter Text
Flip…flip…flip…
That is the only sound in the store. It’s the sound of Scaramouche slowly turning the page to read the next one in his book. It was a slow day but that was normal for a monday. Most people were at their office jobs and wouldn’t have any free time until they were off the clock or during their lunch break. Every once in a while Scaramouche would have someone come in during their lunch to pick up a book they got an ad for the day prior. The nice thing about his shop is that you can purchase or borrow the books in case you didn’t want a pile of books just collecting dust in your home.
Scaramouche glanced at the clock on his computer.
12:00
Hmm…there should be a few people coming in in a few minutes since this is when most people’s lunch break is. The sound of the bell on the front door ringing grabbed his attention and made him turn his head to the side.
One of his regulars stood at the door and waved when he caught his eye. He headed to his normal section but Scaramouche already knew what he was going to check out. He had asked him last week about a new release he wanted to read but Scaramouche hadn’t gotten them in yet. He told him the earliest he would get them is by Monday morning, which he did. He had clocked in at eight and spent that time putting away the new books that had been delivered. He made sure to put that specific book in the front so that guy could find it easily.
When the guy approached the counter he placed the book down as he reached into his pocket for his wallet. “Just this, please.”
Scaramouche scanned the barcode and read out his total, then grabbed a bag to put it in. “Your total is two hundred mora.”
The man whistled, “yeesh, still trying to fix that sign out front?”
He knew it was a joke but Scaramouche didn’t take kindly to jokes about his store. He furrowed his brows trying not to snap so early in the day. “I don’t make the prices.”
The man chuckled lightly but when Scaramouche didn’t he quickly put the mora on the table and took the bag from him. His regulars should know him by now yet they always tried to joke with him. Maybe they wanted to form some kind of friendship with him since they see him a lot but he had little interest in that. Despite everything he was still formal with his customers. There was only a handful of times where he lost his temper with someone. Which he had his aunt to thank since she’s been teaching him how to deal with his anger in a healthier way…which is by biting his tongue.
Slam!
The book clerk raised his head to narrow his eyes at whoever dared to disturb his silence. Before him stood another one of his regulars but this wasn’t the same as the guy before. He hated this woman.
Now, Scaramouche does have a problem with not sugarcoating things but this lady was just a bitc-…no, no, he’s not allowed to say that. Nahida would have his head if she found out he called a customer that out loud or in his head. Scaramouche’s indigo eyes darkened as he examined the woman’s old face. The wrinkles under her eyes seemed to always get bigger as well as the bags under her eyes. She looked like she was decomposing but was still alive. A part of him was afraid that one day she’d just drop dead in the middle of his store. Her hair looked like a mix of dead ends and fried from too much heat. She clearly dyed it to keep the greys away but her ugly fave gave her age away instantly.
“Sorry to disturb you while you’re working but I need to check this out.” Her voice was full of sarcasm and it was making him violent.
The worker cleared his throat as he scanned the book, “checking out or purchasing?” He asked for clarification since she had a tendency to change her answer.
“I just said checking out,” she hissed back.
Scaramouche bit the inside of his cheek so hard he could faintly taste the bitter iron of his blood. He asked for the woman’s name and wrote it down on the checkout card along with the name of the book. “You have two weeks until you’ll need to return it. You’re welcome to return it earlier but every day it’s late you’ll be charged a late fee.” It was the usual speech he needed to give everyone no matter how many times they came in but she clearly didn’t take it as a requirement. She took it as him calling her stupid. Not that he wasn’t thinking it but that’s not why he said all that.
“I know how your return policy works,” she snatched the book from the counter almost knocking over the container of pens. She didn’t say thank you or even mutter a bye as she left.
Witch. Makes sense. According to all the books he’s read all witches are usually described just like her. Ugly.
Once the lady left the book clerk went to go make sure no books were out of place since customers had a tendency to pick up things and then not put them back when they decided they didn’t want them anymore. It was annoying but at least it gave him something to do. The first book he found was a children’s book in the cooking section. Then he found a cooking book in the history section. How these things even happened he didn’t know. Who goes looking for a cooking book but ends up trying to learn about the past archons? It wasn’t any of his business.
After making sure all the books were back in place he headed to the back to sort through the boxes when he heard the front door open again. He would have ignored it but he couldn’t when he heard the sound of someone ringing the bell at the counter. He should really get rid of that thing. All it does is cause him headaches. The book clerk headed back out front where someone he did actually know their name stood.
His hair was blue boy who always tied his hair in a low ponytail which rested over his shoulder. For some reason, he always had boba with him. When he saw Scaramouche approaching he waved, “hello, Scaramouche.”
Instead of going behind the counter, he went straight up to him. “Hello, Ayato. What were you sent out to get today? Does your sister need another book on the history of swords? Or perhaps you need a cookbook to try and learn how to make something other than boba?”
Ayato chuckled lightly, “no, no, I’m actually here on my own terms. I’ve had a lot of free time recently and I was thinking of getting into reading but I wasn’t sure where to start. Got any suggestions?”
Scaramouche tilted his head to the side slightly, “well, what kind of things interest you? Fantasy? History? Horror?”
“Um,” the boy blinked a few times. “I guess fantasy wouldn’t be a bad start. Got anything on dragons?”
Dragons? That’s what he wanted to read about? Well, truthfully he had no room to judge since he has read almost every book in his store. Scaramouche motioned him to follow him which he did. He brought the customer to the fantasy section as he ran his fingers along the spines of the book searching for his desired taste. Finally deciding on one he might like, Scaramouche pulled the book out and offered it to Ayato who took it to look at the cover.
“What’s it about?”
“Dragons.”
Ayato lifted his head and offered the other an annoyed look. A look he very rarely gave others.
“What?” Scaramouche crossed his arms, “if you want to know just read the back.”
“Shouldn’t you know what it’s about if you’re recommending it to me?”
“I know exactly what happens.”
“Do you?”
The worker scoffed, “it’s about a boy who finds a dragon lost in the woods when they thought they were extinct and he nurtures it back to help and-.” He stopped when he noticed a smirk stretching across Thoma’s face. He tricked him. How sneaky. He made him angry enough to feel the need to prove himself. “Proud, aren’t you?”
The man laughed softly, “you could say that. I’ll take it.”
Scaramouche rang him up at the counter and told him he was free to return it whenever. For some people, he bent the rules but he mostly did it for Ayato since he knew how busy his days can get. That family he works for sure does run him into the ground. It wasn’t like he didn’t enjoy working for them but the boy didn’t know the term break. He has only had two days off and he was already at a loss of what to do with his time. Before he left he even offered to dust some of the shelves for free. What a strange guy.
As the day came to a close, Scaramouche only had a couple more people come in. His busy days were the weekends since that’s when people had off work. He did one more check around the store before gathering his stuff and leaving out the front door. He pulled his keys out of his bag after shutting the door behind him.
He locked the door to his shop when he noticed a small sign out of the corner of his eye. He pocketed his key before he turned to glance at it. It was right in front of the empty building that was beside his. The building that had been empty for years. In big bold red letters, it’s said one word.
Sold.
So someone finally bought the spot, huh? Great…turns out his peace and quiet from not having a work neighbor was about to be destroyed. Whatever. As long as they don’t bother him too much he wouldn’t care.
-
Upon arriving at work the next day it was only drizzling but it quickly picked up by each passing minute. Rain meant another slow day at work but since he hadn’t slept then maybe he could get a few extra minutes of shut eye so he wouldn’t feel so exhausted.
However, as soon as he rested his head down on the counter he heard the sound of a truck backing up. The loud beeping could be heard over the pouring rain and even inside the store. Indigo eyes squinted to try to see what truck was parked right in front of his store. Who the hell did they think they were to park on his property? He had half a thought to go and yell at them but he didn’t have an umbrella so he didn’t want to get soaking wet out there just to lose his vocal cords. Surely they’d be gone soon.
Just then the driver's side door opened and a guy climbed out. He was wearing a sweatshirt with the hood up most likely to protect himself from the sky drool. He ran around to the back of the moving truck and opened it, which was when Scaramouche noticed another person with him. He couldn’t see either of their faces. All he could see was them unloading the truck as fast as they could to avoid being in the rain for longer than they needed to be.
When they began carrying their stuff that’s when Scaramouche noticed where they were taking it. They were bringing it inside that empty building. They're the ones who bought that lot? Didn’t they just buy it yesterday? How are they already moving in? It was like the universe wanted to shove it in his face that he wasn’t the only one on the block anymore.
The longer they were outside the more they got soaked. By the time they finished their clothes were no longer a light shade and were all darkened by the water that soaked into the cloth.
Scaramouche didn’t realize how much he had been staring until one of the guys turned to look through the window. The book clerk immediately ducked down behind the counter to avoid being seen. If they came in when they were soaking wet he’d lose his mind. Not only would they get his floors wet but they could damage his goods. One drop of water on any of his books could make them unreadable. Some of his clientele were so picky when it came to picking their books. If there was even a single crease in the spine they wouldn’t want it anymore, but truth be told he hated those too but he wouldn’t yell at someone about it. That was stupid. He can’t even remember all the times someone got upset with him because there was a single fold on one of the pages. He thinks people just forget that some people rent and not buy. Which means he has no control over what happens to them when they leave his store. Not that he wouldn’t charge for damages but he would lose a lot of mora if he just tossed a book out every time it was returned with a single fold.
Scaramouche peeked his eyes over the counter to try and see if those people were still outside but only saw the truck. Could they move that thing already? It was blocking his store from view.
Now that those guys were inside he was guessing that they were probably inside putting things away. A part of him wonders what they’re about to open up. If it was another book store he’d scare them away. He wasn’t sure how but he’d figure it out.
Against his better judgment, he walked around the counter to head to the glass at the front door. He stayed hidden the best he could but still tried to see if he could figure out what they were doing. Whatever they brought was all inside and since the stores were side by side he couldn't see anything. He jumped back when the front door opened and a girl who looked like she was in her teens stared at him confused. It wasn’t exactly a good look to walk into a store and have the store owner stalking someone by the window. Okay, he wasn’t stalking anyone. He just wanted to know what was going on.
The girl blinked up at him before heading towards the teen section. He didn’t even need to ask what she was looking for because he already knew. Teen girls tend to go for the fantasy enemies to lovers trope. How corny. In his opinion, there were much better options than reading about people who hate each other but they also hate how “attracted they are to one another.” Corny. Lame. Boring. Or maybe he was just a hater. He didn’t know.
As the girl went searching for her desired literature Scaramouche took one last peek outside which is when he saw one of the guys at the truck. He pulled out a box that had an image of a mixing bowl on the side of it before heading back inside. Mixing bowl? What the hell did that guy need a mixing bowl for? He only got to see about three percent of his face but he was able to see how his hair stuck to his face due to the rain. Clearly, that jacket wasn’t doing much to protect him from it. His hair was dark or maybe it just looked dark? It was cloudy outside.
Ring! Ring!
How…annoying. He needs to burn that bell.
A simple glance over his shoulder showed him that girl at the counter staring at him confused by the fact that he was still at the window. With a huff, he walked over to get behind the counter and ring her up.
“Three hundred more,” he said as he bagged the two books.
The girl reached into her pocket to pull out a pouch which he then spilled the contents out onto the counter. Slowly she counted each piece one by one, saying each number out loud. When she finished she realized she was short fifty mora. “Uh-oh,” she reached into her pockets to see if she had anything else but found them empty. She then reached into her mini backpack strapped onto her back but didn’t find the necessary mora there either.
Scaramouche rolled his eyes before applying a random discount to her total. “There,” he picked up the mora and placed it into the register.
“Wait,” she stared at the bag he was trying to hand her. “What happened?”
“You’re free to go,” he replied. “Either take your books or leave.”
The girl hesitated but did eventually take the book from him before leaving. She made sure she thanked him at least three times before she made it out the door. Truthfully, he didn’t care since the books she was purchasing were exactly what he had been expecting. The first one was called Between the Wolves which was a werewolf enemy to lovers and the other was the same thing except with vampires. What was it about teen girls and werewolves or vampires? Maybe he just hated them because he often had jokes thrown at him asking if he was a vampire due to his pale complexion, or maybe it was also the fact that his canines were unusually sharp.
Scaramouche lifted his hand to adjust his glasses that began slipping down his nose when he offered the window one more glance. The truck was gone which meant those people were probably done for the day. It wasn’t until he went to head home for the night that he realized there was now a sign hanging on the front of the store. How did they get that up there during the rain?
Tartaglish Cravings.
“Ew.” Oops. He didn't mean to say that out loud. What he meant to say was ‘what does that mean?’ What kind of store would use the word craving in it? Not anything that interested him.
-
Over the next two weeks, he only ever saw the people next door either bringing something into the building but he never saw them outside of that. The people who owned the lot he only ever saw the back of their head or a quick glance at the side of their faces. One thing he knew was that the main guy he kept seeing was a redhead. He has a feeling that that is the guy who owns the place.
On his lunch break, he would text his aunt about it but she didn’t see his side of the story. If he complained about the noise she would just say they are probably renovating. If he complained about having to work beside someone she would just say it was a good opportunity to go meet them–which is what she was doing right now.
‘Why don’t you go introduce yourself? I’m sure they would like to get to know who they’re working next to. You might even make a friend.’
It didn’t matter if they wanted to make a friend because he didn't want to make a friend. He liked being alone and nothing was going to change that. So he settled for ignoring them and their existence. Well…that was until one day that all changed.
Walking into work was normal except for one thing. As he approached the store with his key in his hand he realized something. The air usually smelled like old books but today there was a new aroma circling around. A smell he wasn’t familiar with. Scaramouche wrinkled his nose in disgust already not a fan of it. As he reached the front door to his store he finally realized what it was. It smelled sweet and sugary. The smell wafted from the store next door. It was potent enough to make his head spin and his stomach turn.
With his key frozen in place, Scaramouche glanced between his door and the light on inside the other store. There had been tables and chairs placed outside for anyone wanting to sit outside after purchasing something. Against his better judgment yet again, he slowly pulled away from his own store and took hesitant steps towards the light. The closer he got the stronger the smell got and the stronger the urge to throw up became. Once he made it to the window he glanced through the glass. Could this be considered trespassing since the open sign wasn't on?
Inside Scaramouche glanced around the store. Through the window, streaks of sunlight danced, casting a warm, golden hue onto the face of the boy peering inside. The walls were painted a soft cream color, serving as a contrast to the vibrant display of treats that lined the shelves. Above, strings of twinkling fairy lights crisscross the ceiling, casting a soft glow over the space. The main attraction is the polished counter, stretching along one side of the shop. It was crafted from rich, dark wood, its surface adorned with an array of glass domes showcasing a variety of different disgusting sweet treats. There were cupcakes, actual cakes of various different sizes, chocolate, muffins, and cookies. There were a few empty spaces which he assumed were yet to be filled. However, it was clear their main thing was cakes with how many there were and how many options there were to pick from.
It was a damn dessert shop. Oh, the universe had to be joking. Right next to him? Out of all the things it could have been it had to be the one thing he hated the most in the world? Well, okay, the second thing he hated the most. The first was his mother but that wasn’t a story that mattered right now.
Behind the counter, the book clerk saw a man with an apron on mixing something in a bowl with a whisk. There was a bit of flour on the boy’s face that he didn't seem to care about as he poked his tongue out while working. For the first time, Scaramouche was finally able to see who had bought the lot. The guy’s hair was a fiery red color with bangs coming down to cover his forehead. He had one strand of hair sticking out the top of his head that seemed to bounce every time he moved. He had a defined jawline with cheeks dusted in sun-kisses. It was hard to tell from how far away he was but his eyes looked like an ocean blue. He also looked somewhat tall with the way he loomed over the counter with ease. The man poured the contents from the bowl into a pan which he then brought to the back which is where he presumes the oven is.
Before he could be found he left immediately texting his aunt as he entered his own store. However, she was absolutely no help because she told him to bring her a slice of cake which he denied. He tried to ignore it but he simply couldn’t get his mind off of it when all he could smell was those baking pastries. At first, it was cake but now it smelled like chocolate chip cookies. He was going to be nauseous if this continued. He couldn’t even stomach his lunch even though he had been starving and skipped breakfast. It was day one and he already wanted to end it all.
As if it couldn't get any worse all his customers could talk about was the new store next to him. They kept mentioning how good it smelled and how much they couldn’t wait for the store to open. One of his customers mentioned that it would be open for business tomorrow since today was their last day to finish up baking. Scaramouche tried to care at first but as the day dragged on more and more he wanted to strangle each person who brought it up.
When Scaramouche only had a few minutes left before closing he called his aunt asking if he was still coming over for dinner. “Do you need me to pick anything up on the way over?” He asked as he held the phone up to his ear with his shoulder while he moved some boxes around.
His aunt hummed on the other line. He could hear some rustling coming through the speaker which he assumed was her looking to check if she had all her ingredients. “Could you pick up some basil on the way here? I think I’m out or I’m too short to see over the shelf.”
He rolled his eyes, “maybe you should-.”
Ring! Ring!
Damn it. Scaramouche glanced at the clock on the wall to see the time. He had three minutes before he officially closed so who was here? “Hold up, someone is-.”
Ring! Ring! Ring!
“I’m coming!” He shouted out before taking his phone in his hand, “sorry, Buer. I have to go. Someone is at the register.”
She giggled, “don’t worry. I’ll see you soon. Bye.”
“Bye,” he said as he hung up. Scaramouche used his foot to kick the box to the side that was blocking the door before he opened it. He walked out of the storage room and headed to the front when he froze in his tracks. Surely, he was just tired because there was no way that guy from next door was standing at his counter. Had he seen him peeking in this morning and was here to fine him for trespassing?
The boy was standing at the counter with his head resting against his fist and a small, baby blue box on the counter. His finger tapped against the old wood of the counter staring at the bell seemingly debating on ringing it again. The boy sighed softly as he waited, tapping his foot to the sound of the music quietly playing through the speakers. Now that he wasn't looking through a window he could see that this guy was at least six feet tall. His head perked up Scaramouche walked up to him from behind the counter to ask what he wanted. However, instead of saying anything he just stood frozen staring at him. His eyes ran from the top of Scaramouche’s face down to the bottom. He swallowed nervously as he took in the other boy’s complexion in a less-than-obvious way. Normally the person would have said something by now but this guy seemed locked in some kind of trance. Not to mention, due to his pale skin, the pink that radiated off his cheeks was probably more obvious than he would have liked. His brows knitted together as he tried to find it in himself to compliment him.
Instead, he went to his normal persona and let a bright smile splay across his face while he tapped his hands against the counter. “Hello,” he started. “I just wanted to introduce myself since I just opened up next door. My name is Ajax.” When Scaramouche didn’t respond he awkwardly cleared his throat and gestured to him with his hand. “Um, what’s your name?”
His eyes dimmed, “Scaramouche. Can I help you with something? I should let you know that I close in two minutes.”
Ajax shook his head which made the bangs on his forehead sway softly, “no, no, I’m not here to purchase anything. I’m not really a big reader. I just wanted to say hi and-oh!” Ajax reached for the blue box and pushed it across the counter to him. “This is for you.”
Scaramouche lowered his eyes from his face down at the box now sitting in front of him, “what is it?”
“A cake,” he responded cheerfully. “The first one I made to be exact. I want you to have the first one.”
“Why?”
Ajax awkwardly scratched at the back of his head, gently pulling at the strands of ginger hair by the nape of his neck. This was not going how he planned. He had seen this guy a couple of times through the window when he was moving in and it took a shit ton of courage to bring him a whole cake. “Think of it as an opening gift but instead of you giving me something I’m giving you something.”
Weird. Scaramouche also hated sweets, especially cake. Not only was the batter sweet but then it was covered in icing which is just pure sugar. Yeah, no thanks. However, he couldn’t exactly say that to this guy. Okay, he could but if Buer was here then she would tell him to just say thank you and take it. It’s not like he could have known his disdain for desserts.
“Right well…thanks,” when he raised his gaze he found the baker already looking at him. “Why are you staring at me?”
Ajax’s brows rose as he stood up straight from leaning over the counter, “oh, sorry. Was I?”
“Yes, a lot.” The boy quickly apologized but Scaramouche cut him off. “Is there anything else I can help you with? It’s past closing and I have places to be.”
“Oh, sorry, sorry.” The boy stepped away from the counter with an awkward smile, “I’ll take my leave. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow. Let me know what you think of the cake.” Ajax stood at the door almost like he was waiting for him to bid him a farewell but when he said nothing he turned to leave, closing the door behind him.
What a weird guy.
Scaramouche quickly closed up shop making sure to avoid running into that guy again as he headed towards his car. He made sure to stop by the store to pick up the basil just like Buer had requested of him but as he drove his gaze slowly slithered towards the box sitting in his passenger seat. It almost felt like it was mocking him by just sitting there like the cake knew he wanted nothing to do with it. With a soft sigh, his foot pressed harder on the gas pedal to get to his aunt’s faster.
Looks like Buer is going to be able to taste his cakes after all.