Chapter Text
Waterboy sat alone on a beat-up five-gallon bucket in the janitor's closet, a small puddle forming where its weathered plastic met the ground. In his hands, he held a slightly crumpled, damp piece of paper, the pen ink bleeding through the wrinkles. Everyone had already clocked out by now, and this was the fourth time this week he'd stayed after hours, going unnoticed as per usual. Damp, dark, lonely, honestly not even that clean... and still, out of all the more desirable places he could be, he chose to be here, trying (and failing) to muster up the courage to give his little “letter” to the name addressed, even though he had also left already.
As if to encourage himself, he whispers softly "Just one more day, then... then I'll give it to him, probably, yeah.." his voice echoing slightly in the cramped closet.
Although he criticizes himself for it in other situations, Waterboy's hesitance is well within reason.. at least this time. "Flambae," the Note reads, Letters shaky and smudged, blue bleeding into purple as the moisture from anxious hands slowly eats at the paper. He grips it tighter, the sound of his gloves squeezing against each other like worn rubber pulled too taut. The mere thought of rejection from the man he had grown to admire, despite his denigrating attitude, was something Herman could barely comprehend without spiraling. He had never been one for coping with rejection, or even the slightest possibility of it, leaving him in similar crises throughout his life until he eventually got over it and the cycle repeated. always ending with an empty feeling in his stomach and a few okay stories to laugh at in a few years.
Conveniently, Waterboy's almost silent whispers caught the attention of one of his lingering coworkers, Galen, a senior dispatcher who most definitely knew all of the dirty secrets and gossip of every employee at SDN. He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, calm brown eyes scanning the closet with that same unreadable expression he always carried.
"You should probably head home, dude," he said, voice even, not quite meeting Waterboy’s gaze.
Waterboy froze like a deer in headlights, abruptly looking up at Galen in the doorway, his damp brown hair plastered to his forehead. Whether it was from sweat or water Galen didn't bother considering. The humming fluorescent lights illuminated the other man from behind, making his still silhouette even more intimidating from Waterboy’s perspective. For some reason, he was so sure Galen was out to spread his secret around.
"I- I’m fine… busy, I mean! Damn… you really startled me there, hah… I mean, darn…" He blurted out, feeling the need to keep his language “appropriate,” (not like anyone else did around here.)
"Yeah… I’ll do that though…"
There was something about Galen’s knowledge that made him feel threatened. But his preoccupation with the confession letter, and Flambae.. hid the simple truth: Galen couldn’t care less about what Waterboy was doing there, aside from his wellbeing and well, maybe the fact that it was a little concerning to see a coworker sitting alone in a janitor’s closet, whispering about something…
Something?