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❤️ PFM: Valentine's Day (pre-relationship) snippets
🕑 Added 2024-02-14 12:22:18 +0000 UTCThe heart-shaped vials of perfume stare at you tauntingly from the display by the cash register. They attract the eye, which is why you placed them there, but the festive atmosphere quickly sours your mood.
Surrounded by the seasonal decor, and pestered by nothing but love songs on repeat, you’re constantly reminded of your newly acknowledged infatuation. A definitely not reciprocated infatuation, at that.
Now that you are conscious of your unfortunate predicament, it gets harder and harder to act as you used to, knowing fully well that even if you wanted to give into your feelings, they would remain unrequited. Perhaps for the best.
As the door chime rings, you shoot up to welcome the client, only to sit back down as you spot the source of your inner turmoil, walking in as if summoned by your mere thoughts.
#Jewel
The smell of freshly made donuts cuts through the deep aroma of rose oil and patchouli. You don’t realize how hungry you are until the citrusy scent of the frosting makes you salivate.
Fantastic. You already made an idiot out of yourself bouncing up and down like a yo-yo, and now you’re about to drool. You really need to get a grip.
Jewel turns a blind eye to your blunder as she pauses by the counter, resting her hips against it. Her arms are busy holding up three large boxes of donuts, but she manages to give you a little wave that looks more awkward than friendly.
“You’re still working?”
“Uh, yeah.” You both know that she memorized the entire schedule, though... Maybe she’s not aware you’ve been paying her that much attention, so you don’t point that out. “Did you... forget something?”
“I...” Her eyes drift towards the staff room, as if searching for the answer to your question. She doesn’t find any. “Not really,” she admits, at last. “I was in the area. I thought I’d stop by.”
That’s... nice. You almost prefer her being closed-off and cold towards you. It’s easier on your heart, if nothing else.
“I appreciate the distraction. There’s not much to do today. It’s just me and...”
“...‘I Will Always Love You’?”
“Excuse me?”
“The song? The host must be crazy about it.”
“Right. He’s been playing it non-stop since morning.” Torturing you, more like.
“Yeah,” Jewel chuckles, stepping a bit closer to you. When she tilts forward, you catch a closer glimpse of the contents of the boxes.
“Hey, those look pretty neat. Did you make them?”
“Me? No. I can barely bake a biscuit. I got them from the new bakery. The one around the corner?”
“Oh, yeah, I know the place. Let me know how you like them, I might stop by later.”
“Why don’t you give them a try now? Here.” Most of the donuts in Jewel’s box have a regular shape, but the one she hands you vaguely resembles a heart. It even has sprinkles to match.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
It’s been a while since you received anything resembling a Valentine’s gift from someone who’s not Reed. And even then, you’re mostly helping him eat through the massive amount of chocolate he receives each year.
Not that you don’t appreciate free food, it’s only that... Well, this one is from Jewel. And given that barely half a year ago she rarely ever looked your way unprompted, you’d say the gift is kind of special.
“All right, I’ll be...” Jewel drifts off, gesturing at the door. This time she doesn’t wave, but she nods a bit. “Bye?”
“Yeah, see you tomorrow.”
She inclines her head again, in a final farewell, then makes her exit. You wait for the door to close firmly behind her before you so much as lift the donut to your face.
The absolute last thing you want is to choke on the frosting in front of her. Or inadvertently snort the sprinkles as you exhale a little too deeply. Either or sounds embarrassing.
When you’re sure she’s not coming back, you bite into the donut, almost moaning at the taste.
The filling is your absolute favorite. What a coincidence, huh?
#Reed
“Ciao, dolcezza, did you miss me?” As it often happens with Reed, you can see, hear, and smell him all at once.
The scent of his cinnamon gum reaches your nose, even through the haze of rose oils clouding the air, followed shortly by the fragrance of cologne. His straightened hair is gelled back, and there’s a red stain on his cheek. Lipstick?
“Mhm, it’s been eighty years since I stopped by to get a drink,” you ironize, rolling your eyes. “Last time was, oh, wait, this morning?”
“Why so grumpy?” It’s the stupidest things that make your heart skip a bit. Not his sharp grin, or the squint of his eyes, but the way he blows a bubble and almost gets it all over himself when it pops.
“I’m not,” you quickly protest, pretending not to notice his dubious expression. He knows you too well to fall for that. You can only hope he can’t guess the reason for your crankiness.
If he can, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he deposits a stack of assorted confections right on the counter. “Look, I’ve come with freebies.”
The sweets vary from regular store-bought candies to fancy macaroons and pastries made in one of the best bakeries in the city. Some of the ‘freebies’ are bound by ribbons and strings, with unopened cards and folded letters still attached to them. You’d rather not know what’s inside them, but your curiosity might get the best of you once you’re alone.
“And you love your freebies, don’t you?” Reed teases when the silence stretches a bit too long, trying to cheer you up.
“...I guess.” You certainly won’t decline them. Usually, Reed’d share some with Flavio, too, but that’s no longer a thing they do. “All gifts?”
“Yup. Even my boss handed out a bunch, believe it or not,” Reed says, sliding a foil-wrapped basket toward you. Liquor-filled bonbons. Not unexpected. “He’s a sucker for this shit, I can tell.”
“Dia gave us a bonus.” In a red envelope, but that’s about that. She isn’t much of a holiday fan, no matter the occasion.
“I’d take cash over snacks,” Reed huffs, pushing another box in your direction. This one has your favorites, so you waste no time opening it. “How is it?”
“Good,” you mumble through a mouthful of pure deliciousness, swatting at Reed’s hand when he pretends to take the box away. You allow him to have a single piece, though, and he does so after disposing of his gum
“It’s not the worst thing I ate,” he says, thoroughly unimpressed, at once ‘cleaning his palate’ with a fresh piece of gum. “I could do better.”
“Yeah, I know. I mean, you only say that, what, every year?”
“And I’m right every time.”
“Uh-huh, tell yourself that,” you drawl, taking a look at some of the other treats. “This one isn’t a cake, by the way. It’s a candle.” A cake-shaped candle, but a candle nonetheless.
“Oh? Then I’ll be takin’ that back.”
“You didn’t even check them before bringing them here?”
Reed shrugs, pocketing the candle. “I took some,” he says eventually, and leaves it at that.
“Okay. What about the...” you pause, gesturing at the cards. “...love confessions?”
“You can trash them,” he says, wholly unconcerned. His phone pings, and he swears after checking the screen. “I gotta go. But. If you want to try some actually good dessert, you should—”
“Stop by, yeah, yeah. See you later.”
“Later. You know where to find me.”
#Laurent
“Good evening.”
Laurent looks - and sounds - exhausted. His hair isn’t mussed per se, but it’s slightly less pristine than his regular style. He doesn’t seem hurt or in distress. At least you hope so - any hint of his actual emotions has been obstructed by blockers.
“Evening! Long day at work?”
“Too long,” he admits but doesn’t divulge. He might, if you asked, but you doubt he wants to talk about anything work-related right now.
His frown is slightly heavier than the habitual one, though not as deep as it would be if he were nursing a headache. You don’t know when you got so good at reading his microexpressions, but staring at his face every time he stopped by certainly helped.
He has to be beyond done today because he doesn’t even bother to pretend he’s on the lookout. He does keep his face half-turned toward the window, but he barely glances in that direction, more interested in the display, though that interest, too, is vague.
You doubt he’s going to leave with a bottle of a new perfume, so you reach to prepare his usual, only to freeze when you notice a red tulip held in one of his hands.
“Did you... get it for someone special?”
“Pardon?” He looks at you as though you’ve grown a second head, blinking owlishly until you gesture at the flower. He follows where you point and bristles.“They were handing them out.”
His expression makes you guffaw. You’d love to see who was ballsy enough to give flowers to Laurent, of all people, and on such a day, too.
“Where? Maybe they have one left for me.”
“Take mine,” he says, placing the tulip on the counter. The foil around the stem is a bit crumbled from the strength of his grip, but the flower is otherwise untouched. “I was going to throw it away.”
“What? That’d be a waste. Hold on, let me get a vase.” Dia has plenty of them, and she likes flowers, so you doubt she’d mind if you add more to the bouquet that’s already here. “Which one is better, the long one or crystal?”
It’s not a serious question, but Laurent treats it as such. He pores over them with great focus, eventually pointing at the first option.
After filling it with water, you place the tulip by the cash register, closer to the entrance. On your way back behind the counter, a glimpse of red on Laurent’s sleeve catches your attention.
“Hold on, there’s a...” Sticker. Heart-shaped and neon red against the graphite black of his jacket. There’s another one on his back, a cartoon cupid, with a little bow and all. You peel them off both. “Were they... handing them out, too?”
Laurent’s brow twitches. “Apparently.”
“Can I have them?”
“Please do,” he says, then lets out the longest sigh you’ve ever heard. “Now, forgive me, but it seems I need to return to the office. I think I gave my coworkers too much leisure time.”
“And you’ll remedy that?”
The corner of his lips twitches imperceptibly. There’s something sinister in it. Vengeful, even. The sentiment is mirrored in his voice when he says, “Absolutely.”
“Have fun with that.”
“That I will.”
