Chapter Text
It was an hour until closing time. The shop was empty, just how you liked it. You turned off the PA system, and the generic jazz crackled to a stop. Everything was still. You could breathe again.
You enjoyed the quiet, the clarity it gave you. But what you liked most about the quiet was that it wasn't quiet at all. Symphonies were everywhere, ruffling, humming, whirring. A swish of fabric, a rush of air, an exhale. Reminders that we were all still here.
You grabbed a log of freshly cured soap from the back and brought it to the register counter. With a pastry scraper, you sliced the log into small squares, the aroma of sandalwood and geranium blooming around you. New soap had a slightly gelatinous consistency, firm yet yielding, still slightly malleable. The feel of it splitting beneath the scraper felt oddly satisfying, and you were lost in the momentum of cutting when the bells on the front door jangled.
"Let me know if there's anything I can help you find," you called out, attempting to hide the irritation in your voice.
A customer walked in and wordlessly picked up a shopping basket. He was small in stature, disappearing between the displays with ease. When he reappeared, you gave him a quick once-over, taking note of crisp slacks, black turtleneck, and slicked-back copper hair with a few windblown tufts. He picked up a bottle of lotion and squinted at the label.
"Everything is handmade with all-natural ingredients," you said in your best salesperson voice. "No synthetic fragrances or dyes."
The customer continued to ignore you but placed the lotion in the basket. He took his time examining bath and body products before moving to haircare. It was already past closing time, and from the looks of it, you weren't getting out anytime soon.
You tried not to sigh while cleaning up soap shavings from the counter. Afterward, you gathered and placed the newly made samples in a bowl near the register.
"Smells lovely," came a voice from behind, one you hadn't heard before. It reminded you of dead leaves rustling in the wind. Light, airy, and rough around the edges.
The customer had approached without making a sound. When you turned around, your eyes met. His were a peculiar color: burnished amber and gold, catching the light like tiger's eye, mesmerizing in an unnerving way.
He was shorter than your previous estimation, though his boots provided some height. A tautness to his face hinted at prolonged exhaustion. You got the sense he was barely holding on.
"I'm ready to pay," the customer said, lifting his basket.
"Great!" you replied, approaching the register.
The customer began to place items on the counter. Up close, he looked much older, with streaks of gray striping his hair and fine lines framing his eyes and mouth. He had both sharp and soft features. An angular nose, a defined jaw, and high cheekbones that rounded when he smiled. A scar creeping up one side of his neck and over his chin spoke of past trauma.
"This stuff is great," you said, ringing up a jar of body butter and hoping he didn't see you stare. "It smells like your skin but better."
A corner of the customer's mouth twitched. "Now, how would you know what my skin smells like?"
You blinked several times. "I…um."
An imperceptible grin crossed the customer's face. "I'm teasing."
"Oh," you replied with an awkward laugh.
The customer didn't laugh with you, opting to hand over a heavy, metallic credit card instead. You quickly took the payment and bagged the purchases. He grabbed the handle and turned to leave when you stopped him.
"Wait! Take some samples," you said, slipping a few pieces of soap into the bag.
The customer accepted the samples and made his way towards the exit. At the door, he stopped and turned around slowly, fighting some impulse. "What's your name?"
You answered but felt an unplaceable unease the minute you did so. The customer repeated it, testing it on his tongue.
"Could I get your name as well?" you ventured.
A short pause. "Ren."
"Nice to meet you, Ren. I hope those work out for you!"
Without another word, Ren pushed through the door. You stared after him for several seconds, reeling from the encounter. Nothing had happened, and yet you couldn't shake the sense of foreboding that appeared the instant he entered the shop.
Ren continued to visit after that. He would shop quietly, keeping chit-chat to a minimum. However, his eyes often searched for you. You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment it happened, but the line between disturbing and diverting grew increasingly blurry.
It wasn't that you were attracted to Ren. He wasn't exactly your type. Still, you found yourself checking the clock in anticipation of his arrival each week. A fascination soon developed into a desire to figure him out—a distraction for your boredom. You often conceptualized who he was based on his purchases. He was undoubtedly a lover of luxury and ornamentation, evidenced by his fondness for the more expensive, decorative items. The quantity and frequency of his purchases also indicated that he was financially well-off. Eventually, you wanted to know more.
It was Friday night, and the bells sounded around 7 pm as usual. You looked up just in time to catch Ren's form slipping past a seasonal display. You were determined to talk to him this time.
"Anything I can help you find?"
Ren smiled courteously but kept his gaze on the shelf. "No, thank you."
"You seem to like shopping at night."
"I like to avoid crowds."
"Not a people person?"
"The opposite, in fact."
You furrowed your brow, not entirely understanding what he meant. You could hear a hint of regret in his voice, and you suddenly felt sorry for him. He exuded a waft of loneliness only other lonely people could sense...an unspoken mutuality, hidden yet palpable, like ghosts that only you could see, feel, and speak to.
"So, do you live in the area?" you asked, switching the subject.
"Just about."
"How long have you lived here?"
"Not long."
The conversation was going nowhere. Ren was being impossibly vague, shutting down all your prompts. You didn't know why you cared so much. This customer was not only a stranger but strange. The best thing to do was to let him buy his bath bombs in peace.
"Um…would you like to get coffee sometime?"
Wait.
What?
What the hell was the matter with you?
Even Ren was caught off guard, turning towards you with a quizzical expression.
"I can show you around the area," you continued, wanting to punch yourself in the mouth.
Ren stood in silence as he considered the offer. "I'm not looking to meet anyone right now."
This would have been a good place to stop, accept defeat, and move on. For some reason, you kept going. Maybe you were bored. Maybe you wanted a reaction. Or maybe…you were lonelier than you thought.
"O-oh, I'm not trying to hit on you or anything," you added, putting your palms up.
"Then, what are you trying to do?"
You shrugged. "I guess…welcome you to the neighborhood."
"And do all your customers receive this special treatment?"
"Um, not really. No." You laughed as if reacting to the punchline of a joke. This was absurd, and you felt strangely relieved by the rejection. "Well, I'll let you get back to it."
"Fine."
You gave an awkward wave and turned to leave.
"I meant, I accept your offer," Ren clarified.
It took several seconds for the words to register. You were confused. He had been so adamant just a moment ago. What had changed? "A-are you sure?"
"Are you?"
The fluttering that erupted inside you was concerning. "Yes! W-when are you free?"
"Now."
"Now?" you asked incredulously.
"Shall I change my mind, then?" asked Ren with a subtle lilt to his tone that sounded both playful and threatening.
"No, no. I'll start closing up!"
Ren waited outside while you scrambled to close up in record time. Part of why you moved so fast was to make sure he wouldn't go back on his word. You half expected him to be gone when you exited the shop, but he was still there. The image of him standing against the brick wall, an ankle crossed elegantly over the other, made your heart thump. You forgot what it was like to have someone wait for you.
Ren hailed a cab and politely opened the door. He gave the driver directions and scooted beside you in the back, leaning an elbow against the armrest. From where you sat, you could smell his scent—warm woods and a wisp of something smoky. Occasionally, you caught a whiff of a strong animalistic musk.
The cab rounded a sharp corner, and you slid a little in your seat, knocking your knee into Ren's. You jumped back and kept your limbs tightly secured after that. If Ren noticed, he didn't say anything and glowered out the window. He made no attempt to converse, seemingly lost in his thoughts. You wondered if maybe you had forced him to come...if he regretted his decision. You were ruminating on the best way to give him an out when the cab halted to a stop.
A smile reappeared on Ren's face, and he helped you out of the cab. "We're here."
Ren ushered you towards the entrance of what was clearly a bar, though it didn't appear to be a popular spot. Through the windows, you could see that only a handful of patrons sat at the counter and the rest of the tables were empty.
"They have coffee," Ren said, noticing your surprise.
Once inside, Ren led you to a discreet booth away from the other patrons. He insisted on taking your coat, hanging it on a hook beside his own.
There wasn't a server, so Ren ordered from the bartender, returning later with two steaming mugs. He set the drinks on the table and sat across from you, pouring several packets of cream and sugar into his coffee.
"Uh…do you come here often?" you asked, not knowing what else to say.
"No," Ren answered. "Although, it does remind me of a place I used to frequent."
"Thanks for coming out with me, by the way."
Ren's amber eyes flicked up to look at you. His gaze was steady and penetrating, and you were reminded of an animal sizing up its prey. "How could I say no? You were being so cute."
An alarm went off in your head. Not a warning but a timer. It felt like a test. Ren was watching you, waiting to hear your response. You had to respond. Quick. What do you say...?
"Um...thank you."
"My pleasure," Ren said, eyes crinkling. It was the first time you had seen him smile as if he felt something. His disposition had changed, and he was acting nicer, sweeter, a complete turnaround from his earlier temperament. "And now that you have me here, what will you do?"
You shifted in your seat. You didn't expect such a direct question and weren't sure if you had an answer. "I…I just wanted to get to know you."
"Oh? What do you want to know?"
You decided to start with the basics. "I guess…what do you do for work?"
"I'm in between jobs," Ren replied flatly. He had answered this before.
"And before then?"
"I procured and sold goods."
"Neat! What kind of goods?"
"High-end and niche, you could say," Ren answered with a detached sigh. "I catered mostly to bored, rich people with too much money. It wouldn't interest you."
You quickly scanned your brain for another question. "What do you like to do for fun?"
Ren perked up. "Plenty of things. I enjoy cooking, watching movies, shopping…"
"Buying ungodly amounts of bath bombs," you suddenly blurted out. Why were you like this?
"I like to treat myself." Ren grinned.
Good. He got the joke.
"Well, it's great for my commissions. You're probably our best customer."
"Do I get a prize?"
"A prize?"
Ren nodded, one eyebrow raised suggestively. "Don't you think I deserve something in return?"
"Um, I can see about getting you a discount? I'll have to ask my boss."
The inner corners of Ren's eyebrows raised, and he chuckled to himself. "You're so wonderfully simple. How refreshing."
You couldn't help but make a face. That didn't sound like a good thing. The juxtaposition of compliments and dismissals, a smile both cruel and caring, felt like being picked up and dropped repeatedly. You didn't like it, but it was a feeling you knew well.
Ren leaned back in his seat and drained the contents of his mug. The gleam in his eye had disappeared, and he looked like his exhausted self again.
You failed the test.
"It's late," remarked Ren, checking his phone. "You should be getting home."
You stood up, feeling bold. This could be salvaged, right? "Maybe we can do this again?"
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"Oh. Is it the age difference? I'm a lot older than I look."
Ren looked slightly amused. "Not at all."
"Okay," you sighed. You weren't going to fight this. "Thanks again for the coffee."
Ren watched you slide out from the booth and remained seated. "You're welcome."
You resisted the urge to look back, trying to look confident and unconcerned as you stepped out into the night. Discomfort churned in your gut, telling you to turn around and try again.
No. You wouldn't beg for scraps.
But the scraps gave you life, gave you purpose. Something to work for. Something to keep you going.
No. You had to learn how to sit with discomfort. You needed to process. Think.
Pulling out your phone, you looked up a route home and began walking.
That had not gone well. All you wanted to do was get to know him. Why the hell was that so hard? Each word from your mouth felt heavily scrutinized, his reactions difficult to predict. It was like a game to see what would please or provoke him, a game you hadn't agreed to play.
You were angry now. Angry and cold. You rubbed your arms to warm up, then halted to a stop.
"Fu-ck!" you seethed, smacking a hand to your forehead.
In your haste to leave, you had forgotten your coat. You at least had your phone, which indicated nearly half an hour had passed since you left, but your keys and wallet remained in your coat. There was no other choice. You had to go back.
You turned around, alternating between walking and running. By the time you reached the bar, it was still open but emptier than before. You dashed inside and returned to the back booth to find that the hooks on the wall were bare. The bartender offered no help, so you found yourself outside again. After several minutes of panicking, you decided the best thing to do was go home and buzz your landlord in the building.
It was a shitty end to a shitty night. Your landlord was going to be pissed. The following week would be dedicated to canceling credit cards, getting new keys, and replacing your driver's license. Not to mention the forty or so bucks for the week's groceries that were now down the drain.
The exterior of your four-flat loomed into view. You trudged towards it, dreading the call you were about to make. As you pulled your phone from your pocket, the sound of a car door slamming made you turn around. Your body tensed as you saw someone approaching. The sight of familiar copper and silver hair made you relax, though not by much.
Ren walked up the sidewalk, having exited a cab parked in front of your building. Something was draped over his arm, and you immediately recognized your coat. "Forget something?" he asked with a facetious grin.
"Oh my god," you breathed.
You reached out to take the coat, but Ren simply held it open for you. Not knowing what else to do, you weaved your arms through while he slid it over your shoulders in one swift movement.
"How did you know where I lived?"
"From your driver's license, of course."
You reached into your pocket and checked the contents of your wallet. It was all there. The relief was short-lived upon realizing how this looked. Ren didn't seem to mind, however.
"Thank you. I'm sorry for the bother," you said, guilt creeping in.
"Don't worry. It gave me time to think."
You took a breath. "About what?"
"About you." Ren paused as if giving you time to prepare for his next words. "Do you still want to see me again?"
A shock ran up your spine. "But I thought I was...simple."
Ren smiled in concession. "I never said that was a bad thing."
You didn't want to hear that. You wanted him to say he was wrong. That you were unique and exciting.
Simple wasn't interesting. Simple was boring.
"So," Ren continued. "Want to be friends?"
It wasn't the ideal start to whatever this was, but those last words did something to you. Every past wish to be seen...to be sought...was rekindled by those five words. But you knew this wasn't something to celebrate. This was anxious attachment, a perpetual push-pull, a pattern you'd been trying to break for decades. But the parts that felt good…felt really good. Even if they were short-lived. Even if they were a lie.
You nodded, and Ren leaned in, eyes flashing gold beneath the streetlamps. "Good," he whispered, white clouds issuing from his mouth and settling on your skin. "I know we'll get along nicely.”