Chapter Text
When 9pm hit is exactly when Ronnie clocked in. Not a second before, and not a second later. The clock-in station was one of those outdated machines where you take your time card, put it in a slot, and the machine punches a hole into the time you arrive. After he put his card in the shelf labeled “working,” Ronnie walked over to the shoe locker, and suddenly realized he didn’t have a code to open it.
He mentally groaned at the realization and cursed his manager for forgetting such an important detail in his orientation. He adjusted his hold on the “Night shift survival kit” his manager had made for him, and thought about punching the locker.
As annoyed as he was, he decided to put on his big boy pants and check to see if any other employee was here so he could ask them for help.
With a sigh, and a dramatic amount of dragging his feet, he entered the kitchen area. For all his searching, he couldn’t find a single other person among the rows of industrial deep fryers, burger assembly stations, and sinks.
“Hey there, you lost, new stuff?” piped up a voice from behind him.
For the second time in a 48-hour period, Ronnie nearly jumped out of his skin with surprise. Still, he hoped it didn’t show on his face as he turned around to see who the prankster was.
Behind him about four steps away was one of his coworkers, if the logo on their black polo shirt was anything to go by. They were tall, easily six foot plus some and had the kind of toning to their tattooed arms that suggested they made a habit of lifting weights. Despite this, their posture and lazy smile had an undeniably chill vibe that put Ronnie at ease. Or at least, they would’ve if their eyes weren’t the kind of blue that was more “staring into your soul” than cute. Over and below their perfectly shaped eyebrows were two studs each, and just to the sides of the peak of their black lips were piercings that entered their top lip as studs, but poked out the bottom as spikes.
“Uh…yeah, I don’t know the code to my shoe locker.” He sheepishly said, suddenly feeling a bit flustered.
“Heh, that happened to me on my first day, too.” Shrugged the goth in front of him. “I’m Dov, by the way.”
Ronnie nodded, “Ronnie. The new night shift hire.”
“Really? Is that why you’re here for the night shift?” They joked as they gestured for Ronnie to follow them back into the supply room.
He followed them with a breathy chuckle, but started to feel awkward again when they didn’t continue the conversation.
“So, uh, are you a voice actor? You have a really nice voice.” Asked Ronnie when they finally arrived at his shoe locker.
Dov smiled and began entering a code into the shoe locker’s combination lock. “Nope. Thanks though.”
Looks like they weren’t one for conversation. Ronnie, who didn’t feel like awkwardly chuckling again, watched in silence as they tried two more codes until the shoe locker finally opened, revealing enough space for a backpack and not much else.
“I see the teddy bear made you a survival kit.” Pointed out Dov as they opened their own shoe locker. “The code is 0-9-0-0, by the way.”
“Thanks. But yeah, I haven’t opened the survival kit yet.” Elaborated Ronnie as he shuffled around the shoe locker, looking for his uniform. He decided to ignore the nickname for his manager.
“I’ll bet your uniform is in the bag.”
“Oh! Uh, right. Probably.”
He opened the bag and the first thing he saw was a black polo shirt that matched the one Dov was wearing. Ronnie looked over to thank them and noticed that they had somehow changed out of their work uniform and into their casual wear. A sleeveless black turtleneck was under their fishnet top, with a collection of chain necklaces to complete the look. Their slightly curly, long black hair was no longer contained within the confines of their hair net, but it was tucked behind their ear as they were putting their many piercings back in.
Despite his best efforts to look away, Ronnie’s eyes fell to their chest and he felt a blush creeping into his cheeks. Dov had the kind of chest that left Ronnie wondering if they had breasts, or impressive pecs. Incredibly flustered, Ronnie forced his eyes away from them and back to the bag in his hands.
“Alright, I'm heading out. Good luck on your first day, Ronitio.” Dov said as they slung their bag over their shoulder.
“Thanks, you too.” He answered, trying to sound chill and cool. It didn’t work.
Dov smiled and walked out the door after marking their time card with the time they left at. And only after they left did Ronnie realize the horrible mistake he made.
“You too?!” He screamed in his head, fighting the urge to bury his red face in his hands. “God fucking damn it.” He thought as he put on his uniform, leaving his casual clothes in the shoe locker.
He debated over whether or not to bring the night shift survival kit with him, but ultimately decided that it would give him something to do while he waited for customers to come in.
With a sigh, he closed the locker and carried the bag with him as he trudged through the kitchen and to the cash registers. Once he arrived at the cash registers, he immediately sat down on the provided stool, lazily tossing the bag onto the countertop.
The whole restaurant was bathed in bright fluorescent light that nearly blinded him. They droned on and on, making that electric humming sound as they did. Barely twenty minutes in, and he was beginning to feel a fog of boredom clawing its way over his brain.
His eyes fell down to the bag his manager had given him and he reached for it, figuring that he had nothing better to do.
The first thing he noticed was the drive-through headset, which he put on and discovered that it was softly playing lo-fi. Which made some sense to him, considering his job. What he didn’t understand was the iron ring, mirror, a magazine titled “Dealing With the Supernatural,” and the silver spatula. Looking back at the grill for confirmation, there was already a plastic spatula hanging from a hook just above it. Weird, but was written off as one of those gifts you give when you don’t know a person's interests. He tried the iron ring on each of his fingers until he determined that it fit best on his thumb. As for the mirror, he left it in the bag. Along with the spatula. He didn’t bother picking up the magazine.
A quick glare at his watch confirmed that he was only thirty minutes into his nine hour shift. He nearly banged his head against the counter.
Phones weren’t allowed, but he recalled his manager saying that he could read, clean, or just sit here. Of the three options, cleaning seemed like the best option for him. But as his eyes swept over the restaurant, he noticed that everything was clean. Most likely the result of the people in the shift before him. He was slightly disappointed, but he supposed he could always restock…whatever needed to be restocked.
With a groan because he had to do the job he was hired to do, Ronnie walked around the kitchen, looking for anything that needed to be restocked. Nothing. Everything was stocked and ready to be used. There weren’t even any dishes to do.
Then, he remembered. The drink machine. There was no way anyone refilled that.
He walked out of the kitchen and straight to the soda dispenser. He recognized the model from a previous job, so he was confident that he would know how to open it up and do what he needed to do.
The first thing he checked was the ice dispenser, which was the kind that only held ice, and did not make it. And lo and behold, the dispenser was only half full. He smirked in triumph. The next thing he checked were the cooling plates, which were fine. Disappointingly so. Next, the syrup bags. Dr. Pepper must’ve been popular today because the syrup for it was nearly out.
He recalled seeing syrup bags for the drink machine in the supply room and figured ice bags would be in the walk-in freezer, so for the millionth time tonight, he entered the supply room and began rummaging around the boxes until he found the Dr. Pepper syrup container. Then he entered the freezer and found a bag of ice, which he also brought with him back to the soda dispenser.
Once both were securely in the machine and the lid was back in place, he wiped imaginary sweat off his brow and proudly put his hands on his hips. Then, he checked his watch. Surely that task had taken him over an hour right?
Wrong.
It barely took him 45 minutes. He nearly bashed his head in against the wall.
Defeated, he returned to his stool behind the cash register and stared at the overhead lights until black splotches were left in his vision. All of them were bright and annoying, but in the far corner, he could see one that was flashing. He would’ve fixed it, but he didn’t want to. And he doubted he was qualified anyway. He stared intently at the light, counting how many times it flickered per second. One, two times a second.
One, two.
One, two..
One, two…
One, two….
One, two…..
One, two……
One, two…….
One, two……..
One, two………
“Um, excuse me?” asked a meek voice. And despite its low volume, the jumpscare caused Ronnie to jump up and fall off his stool, landing painfully and pitifully against the hard tile below.
“Are you okay?!” Asked the voice, suddenly sounding quite alarmed. Ronnie stared at the ceiling for maybe five seconds before he rolled his head over to the side to look over at his arm and saw the wet patch of his saliva there. And he came to the realization that he had fallen asleep. On the first day of his job, no less. Still in a sort of daze, he reached up and rubbed the spot where his head had made impact with the floor. No bump, but there would probably be a bruise.
When the realization hit him that a customer was here, he jumped to his feet and scrambled to start up the register. “Yeah, uh, I'm fine. What can I get you?” He said it faster than he intended to, but he prayed to whatever god was listening that this guy wouldn’t judge him, and sneakily wiped the saliva on his arm off on his apron.
The boy in front of him looked to be maybe two years younger than him with fluffy, yet faded peach-colored hair and pale, almost sickly skin. His black eyes looked tired, but were still flooded with concern for him. But Ronnie felt his own alarm flare up when he noticed the boy was wearing a hospital gown, a stained bathrobe, teddy bear slippers, and a generic medical face mask. He tried not to judge, though and hoped the boy was okay.
“Right…uh, what’s in the kids meal?” He asked, his voice slowly sounding more and more strained as he talked. Ronnie wanted to tell this boy to read the goddamn menu, but didn’t, and instead kept his best customer service smile on. Even if it probably looked a little thin.
“That comes with a small fountain drink, small fry-” Ronnie was cut off by the boy coughing quite violently into his hand. They were the kind of coughs that shook your whole body painfully, and immediately made Ronnie stop in his tracks and stare at the boy like a deer stuck in headlights.
When he stopped, he looked up at Ronnie with watery eyes, but the corners of his eyes scrunched a bit, as though he was offering Ronnie a reassuring smile under that face mask. Ronnie decided to take the hint and continue. “-carrot sticks, and either a burger or chicken nuggets, or a small salad. And a toy, of course.”
When Ronnie said ‘salad,’ the boy's face scrunched up slightly with an emotion like disgust.
“Well, in that case, I'll take a kid’s meal with a burger. Any chance I could get bacon on that?”
Ronnie entered it into the cash register, but saw that they were out of bacon. “Oh, sorry, looks like we’re out of bacon.”
The boy looked disappointed, but nodded with understanding.
“Anything else?” Ronnie asked, and when the boy shook his head, he continued, “okay, that’ll be $5.49. Do you want a receipt?”
The boy didn’t answer the question and plunged his hands into the pockets of his bathrobe and pulled out two handfuls of crumpled dollar bills and spare change. Ronnie had to fight the urge to strangle the boy as he began counting the change and putting it in the register. He was over by $2, which he gave back to the boy.
“Is that for here or to-go?”
“To-go.”
“And what’s the name for the order?”
“Shichirou.”
“Cool, that will be out in just a moment.”
Ronnie crumpled up and threw away the receipt as he walked into the kitchen and to the grill. He turned on the grill to begin cooking his burger but had to wait a minute before he threw the patty on its sizzling surface. And then he made the fries at the deep fryer. And finally he collected the carrot sticks and drink cup and put it all in a kids meal box, which was a thin cardboard box in the shape of the cartoon burger he saw in the orientation tape.
He looked out into the seating area and saw Shichirou coughing again, and this time he could make out something red behind his mask. It didn’t look quite like blood because it didn’t stain the mask, but it still looked blood red and as though someone had stuffed his mask full of red pieces of paper.
“Order for Shichirou.” He announced as he awkwardly walked up to the boy, who had not finished coughing.
As he continued coughing, red petals began to spill from the sides of the mask. Ronnie stared at them, not quite sure what was going on, but wishing the boy would take his weirdness and leave.
Shichirou took off his mask and dumped the small pile of petals onto the table, much to Ronnie’s dismay. He didn’t want to touch those things for any reason, let alone to clean them up. Shichirou smiled at Ronnie and took the box.
“Thanks.”
“Enjoy.”
Ronnie turned around, but was stopped by Shichirou grabbing onto his pant leg.
“Will you stay? Just for a little while?”
With all his heart, Ronnie wanted to say no. But looking at those sad little puppy eyes convinced him to sit down across from the boy, who began to take out each item from the box and arrange it neatly on the table. As he did this, he started talking.
“You know, my name means seventh son. It’s supposed to bring luck, but…” He gestured vaguely to the pile of red petals on the table, and Ronnie nodded like he understood what was going on.
“I think I'm cursed.”
Ronnie stared at him, wishing he would start eating so he could get out of here faster.
“I fell in love with someone who doesn’t love me back. And I got this stupid disease that just won’t go away.”
Oh. Oh no. That was deeper than Ronnie wanted to go.
Shichirou put a hand over his heart, and Ronnie felt bad for him, but still wondered how unrequited love would cause someone to cough up flowers.
“So now, I have to get surgery to remove them.” If Ronnie had a drink, he would be choking on it right now. When Shichirou noticed his shock, he elaborated.
“The roots need to be removed. I may never be able to fall in love again, but with my luck, I probably never would’ve anyway.”
Ronnie slammed his hands on the table, suddenly overcome with the desire to make this sad boy feel a bit better. “Romantic love isn’t the kind of love out there!”
When Ronnie saw Shichirou’s wide eyes, his initial bravado and confidence was almost completely lost.
“I mean, there’s self-love, too, and like, a gajillion others, y’know? Once you start putting too much emphasis on one kind of love…well, you lose sight of the other kinds. Just…ugh, you get what i'm trying to say, right?”
Shichirou, who had been eating the cheeseburger, stared at him blankly, like he was processing the information. And Ronnie clasped his hands together, thinking he surely looked like a fool.
“I…didn’t think you could say something so…mature.” stated Shichirou bluntly, causing Ronnie’s anger to flare up again. But he chose instead to awkwardly chuckle and rub the back of his head, wincing a bit at the tenderness that met him.
“So…you want me to…value my relationships and emotional ties?”
“I-I guess…”
Shichirou nodded slowly and finished his burger, then moving on to his fries. “I guess I never…did that before.”
Ronnie sighed in relief, glad that he at least looked like a wise idiot to this guy now instead of the irresponsible idiot he was sure he came off as when this guy first arrived. Shichirou smiled at him.
“Thanks for sitting with me. My mom always told me that a meal with a stranger is the only way to get good wisdom.”
Ronnie smiled, hoping it looked as sincere as he felt. “Yeah, no problem. Thanks for waking me up.”
Shichirou chuckled and twirled a fry between his fingers. “You know, this is my first time having fast food since before I got sick. The doctors wouldn’t let me have any, but with my surgery coming up, I figured I deserved a little treat.”
“Heh. Well, is it good?”
The fries and burger were finished, with the carrot sticks being left forgotten on the side of the table.
“Yeah. It was really good.”
Ronnie felt his heart swell at the compliment, and how genuine it sounded. Then he noticed the never-filled drink cup sitting abandoned and ignored in front of Shichirou.
“Oh, did you want a drink?” He asked, already reaching for it.
“Sure. Probably just a lemonade though.”
And so, Ronnie stood up with the empty cup in hand and a small smile. He approached the drink machine, filled the cup with ice, and turned around. Shichirou had stood up and put his mask back on, but had started violently coughing up petals again. Ronnie smiled at him and put a reassuring hand on his back.
“I hope your surgery goes well.” He said, offering Shichirou the drink with a smile.
Shichirou returned the gesture and accepted the lemonade. “Me too.”
Shichirou started walking out the door, only pausing momentarily to look back and wave at Ronnie, who smiled at him in return.
With a content puff, Ronnie looked at the spot where Shichirou had been eating, and where the pile of red flower petals still lay.
“God damn it.” He said, but he couldn’t muster up any malice. Instead, he simply used his hands to pick them up and throw them away.