After the anniversary event concluded, members of my Patreon decided to share Columbina's answers with everyone! So this week, you'll get to see the first batch of questions she answered.
I'd also like to let you know that development updates are already underway. Patrons receive these updates one week early, and then they'll be reposted on our other social media platforms afterward!
Meanwhile, @destinysquared is working on the next official canon comic about Harlequin's pet!
She'll be streaming some of the pages on her Patreon if you'd like to catch an exclusive early preview.
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Após o evento de aniversário os patreons decidiram compartilhar as respostas de Columbina, então essa semana vocês vão ver a primeira parte das perguntas feitas para ela.
Também gostaria de avisa-los que a programação da atualização ja esta em andamento, os patreons recebem as atualizações uma semana antes, e depois ela serão repostadas nas outras redes sociais!
E enquanto isso a comic oficial da historia do pet de arlequim esta sendo feita pela @destinysquared
Algumas paginas serão stremadas no patreon dela caso vocês queiram um preview.
Why are all the members so persistent on pretending to be human when it's so obvious they're not?
Why does the lion hide in the grass?
Why does the snake blend in with the branches?
Why does the alligator appear to be just a floating log?
Isn't it interesting how predators always try to go unnoticed by their prey? The prey questions the camouflage, notices something strange, but they're still there, staring carelessly.
Thank you @cari-canes for commissioning another Bad Sanses cafe au.... and also thank you for being perhaps the most patient commissioner on the face of the Earth. You are the best!!!!
(Part 2 to this lovely piece!)
---
People always assumed you were a morning person. Given that you regularly woke up at 4am, it wasn’t a wild assumption to make. You were a baker, after all, bakers famously worked ridiculously early hours. Who would pursue a career like that, and not be a morning person?
Except you weren’t a morning person. Not at all.
You used your key to let yourself into the closed cafe. As you had done so many times before. The evening sky behind you was rapidly darkening, full of muted purples, reflecting in the cafe’s big windows. Spring had given the sun a little kick, but it was still lagging on a winter schedule, and it had already completely dipped beyond the horizon.
You shuffled gratefully indoors, locking the door again behind you. No matter how many times you came in past closing, it always felt so empty - floor swept, chairs upside-down on the tables, coffee machine quiet and cold.
You crossed the wooden cafe floor and flicked a switch. A lone, low-wattage bulb hanging directly over the counter blinked to life. Its light caught on the edges of the pastry display case, the rims of the mugs, and glasses lining the walls.
Quiet. End of day. Peaceful couldn’t even begin to describe it... not a customer in sight.
You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you took in the space. This was your favourite time of day. Nothing to worry about except yourself, the empty cafe, and your prep list for a morning of baking tomorrow.
The front area didn’t need much attention but you liked to check it all over anyway. Horror had cleared all the leftover pastries from the display case. And - most importantly - you could tell Dust was on tomorrow’s opening shift, because he had gone ahead and cleaned up almost everything. For all his intimidating aura and alarming expressions, Dust was very methodical. Was Killer more fun to be on shift with? Sure. But the guy was allergic to properly cleaning up after himself. You refilled the coffee beans, made sure there were enough milks and juices, checked that everything open in the fridge had a date sticker on it. Then you made your way to the kitchen. You put your bag on one of several hooks by the kitchen door. It feels good to be alone in here.
There were a few things - like sweet and savoury pie crusts, and bread dough - that were much easier to bake if their raw mixtures had plenty of time to rest in the fridge overnight. But you personally liked to add a few more things to that list. You were of the opinion that cookies, brownies and blondies tasted so much better if the batter had rested for at least a few hours.
You placed your phone on the countertop. It didn’t take long for the sound of your favourite playlist to start filling the room, and you began to slip into your happy place. Apron over your front, flour on the countertop, the rhythm you’d become accustomed to over the past weeks. It was a therapeutic process... almost meditative at times. Moving your hands, your feet, and then the air was filled with more than just your playlist - it was ceramic mixing bowls rattling on metal countertops, the richness of butter melting in a pan and the earthen nuttiness of flour, the sweetness of airborne icing sugar hitting the back of your throat when you inhale. It was equal parts creativity, chemistry, and complete sensory immersion.
Nothing in the world except you and your craft.
Evenings after closing. The best time of day. As much as you liked your coworkers, everyone needed their alone time.
Time slipped by. You weren’t really paying attention to the clock; no need. You didn’t have an opening shift deadline to worry about. Another reason evenings were so much better than mornings. You rolled soon-to-be pie crust into logs, tucked saran wrap over the tops of containers full of muffin mix and bread dough, divided up an obscene amount of brownie batter.
(Brownies were definitely the star treat of the cafe, no quantity ever seemed enough to last.)
Once everything was prepared, you moved on to the final step before packing down. On the shelf just over your head were seven differently coloured rolls of square stickers. Each had a respective day of the week written on the top, with a white space in the centre for writing the date and product type. You grabbed a roll, ready to start labelling. It was all too easy to forget when a batch of something had been made when there was so much knocking around the shop.
“you’ve been busy,”
You gasped, loudly, spinning around so fast you nearly launched the sticker roll across the room.
... It was Nightmare. How the hell did he get in so quietly!? He was standing just in front of the door back into the main cafe, a leather satchel over one shoulder. He probably wasn’t expecting your reaction because he blinked, good eye looking you up and down.
Holy crap. That scared you. You were just glad you hadn’t made any particularly embarrassing sounds.
“I-I didn’t hear you come in!” you blurted, clutching the sticker roll to your chest like it were a live frog ready to leap out of your hands. “You’re early!”
Nightmare looked great. He always did. But he looked particularly good today - which just made it all the more embarrassing that he’d jumped you so much. He had on a black shirt with a dark navy jacket over the top; it was a very simple outfit but the way he wore it just felt stylish. Something about the shape of the jacket on his shoulders was particularly pleasing to look at. Nightmare had a way of making his outfits look so deliberate, styled and tailored. Probably a happy side effect of wearing exclusively dark sophisticated colours.
He stared at you for a moment.
... Then he smiled. His lovely cyan eye cut off at the bottom a little, and he let out a sound halfway between an exhale and a laugh. Just a few deep, pleasant chuckles.
“i’m not early,” he mused. He always spoke with so much... so much something. You had no idea what the something was but it made him appear so confident, so attention-commanding, even if the words he said were gentle and quiet.
Eh? He’s not early? You looked over to the clock on the far wall.
“Oh. Crap,” you said. “I-I had no idea it was so late.”
His smile remained on his handsome features. You weren’t sure if he was smiling with you, or at you, but either way you always felt little swells of pride whenever he acted as if he enjoyed your company. He shifted his satchel off his shoulder, tucking it under one arm instead. “apologies. i didn’t mean to surprise you. i must’ve been too quiet.”
Nightmare didn’t look like he fit in the kitchen. With his chic jacket and satchel and overall air of casual sophistication, he much more fitted the vibe of the front of the cafe - the books, the warm lights and mindful wooden furnishings. He wouldn’t be remiss on the cover of a casual jazz vinyl. You could almost picture it; Nightmare sitting by a rainy window overlooking a city, sipping from a handmade mug. You and Horror? Far more visually in line with the kitchen. Smooth countertops, stacks of spotless metal equipment; aprons tied tight over whatever comfortable clean outfit you could find while blearily getting out of bed before sunrise that morning. Nightmare, Killer and Dust always smelled like coffee beans and pastries. You and Horror always smelled like the detergent you put into the industrial dishwasher.
“I-it’s all good!” you lied. You were glad you hadn’t been holding anything glass when he came in. “I just get really in the zone when I’m baking. Clearly,”
“are you in the middle of something?” he asked.
It didn’t matter how much time had passed since you started working for Nightmare. You still found yourself flustered around him. With the other skeletons, you felt like you could grow accustomed to them, you could learn their patterns and learn them - Dust had his weird unnerving staring habit and dour expressions, but also, he had his quiet attempts at conversations and his routine of making you a coffee every day exactly how you wanted it. You’d grown confident enough to start teasing him a little sometimes. Horror was a whole lot of skeleton, and you were beginning to suspect he had developed a crush on you, but he was always polite and careful to keep things easy and he was by far your favourite kitchen coworker you’d ever had. Even Killer’s endless flirting could be grown accustomed to; you all but brushed Killer off at this point. His delighted “afternoon, beautiful. you’re looking extra radiant today. do you always look this good, or are you dressing up just for me?” when you walked in the door could be met with an eye roll, or a smile, or a playful jab back. It barely registered, especially not when the two of you could quickly move on to talking about your respective plans for after work.
Nightmare? You couldn’t get used to Nightmare. You could never get used to his soft dark voice, his cyan eye, his smile. His aura of total confidence. If the other three were excitable reds and whites, Nightmare was cool blues and blacks. Calm and sophisticated.
You startled yourself out of your reverie and finally remembered to answer the question he just asked.
“No, I’m not in the middle of anything. I-I’m almost done, actually, I was just wrapping up.”
He nodded. “alright, good. can i borrow you for a moment, after you’re done?”
“Oh. Sure.” You finally put the sticker roll down. “What for?”
“just come to my office when you’re done.”
You thought he was going to turn and walk back into the front of the cafe. But instead, he made his way through the kitchen, straight to the door that led to his office. He went inside, shutting the door behind him.
... Hrm. You couldn’t think of anything you’d done wrong, but immediately, your mind jumped to what anyone’s mind would jump to when called into their manager’s office - I’m in trouble. Had you fucked up?
Stars, I must be tired. I’m doing a lot of over-thinking today.
You hurried through the last steps of the evening. You labelled the mixtures, tucked them into the big industrial fridge, wiped all the surfaces down with boiling soapy water. You swept, and gave every surface a spray with disinfectant.
The whole time, your mind continued to whirr as to what you might’ve done wrong. It made it impossible to lose yourself in your chores like you usually did.
Eventually, after about ten minutes of messing about, you were done. You nervously made your way to his office. Surely everything was fine? Nightmare was a fair manager. He didn’t seem the type to pull you up on something inconsequential.
... Well. He was fair, friendly and level-headed to you. He’d never reprimanded you, he’d never raised his voice at you. More than you could say for ninety percent of managers you’d had before. He wasn’t particularly chatty, but still spoke to you as if you were a personal friend of his, and generally treated you with the amount of respect and care you’d expect from a friend. When you made mistakes, it was no big deal, an easy cleanup, he’d tell you stories of things he did wrong to make you feel better.
He wasn’t so relaxed with your unfortunate coworkers. He had no such patience for any mistakes not made by you. You had yet to see Horror actually make a mistake at work, so you couldn’t comment on that yet, but it felt as if Dust - and particularly Killer - had an entirely different boss sometimes. Dust and Nightmare had an almost nonverbal relationship, sentences passing between icy looks. And Killer?
Killer’s relationship with Nightmare seemed more like a strict and distant father with a petulant, troublemaking son. A dynamic which, for some reason, Killer clearly enjoyed.
Did Nightmare have a soft spot for you? Were you imagining it? Maybe he was just an effective boss that changed his management style from employee to employee. Either way, you couldn’t help but think about the time when Nightmare found the coffee machine uncleaned at the end of a shift, and was remarkably (and instantly) less bothered about it when he found out it was your fault and not Killer’s.
If you couldn’t remember what you’d done, you most likely weren’t in trouble.
...
... Didn’t stop you from continuing your over-thinking, though. You didn’t even realise you were still wearing your apron until you noticed you’d nervously wiped your hands on it, getting flour on them all over again.
You knocked on his office door, lightly. Then you pushed it open.
The room was small and windowless, with a desk and a computer on one side, metal cabinets and drawers almost entirely obscuring the papered walls. A small echo flower was thriving in the lightless environment in a pot on his desk. Though there was a touch of natural mess, like loose papers and pens and unevenly stacked wads of files, it remained a well-organised and well-maintained space. You wouldn’t expect anything less from someone like him.
Nightmare was in his chair. He was eyeing some papers. You couldn’t help but admire how adeptly he held things considering the hooked and clawed ends to his phalanges. If you had false nails that were as long and sharp as his claws, you’d be hard pressed to pick anything up.
“i hoped to catch you yesterday, but i got caught up in something.” He looked up at you. “how are you?”
“I’m good,” you replied. The door remained propped open even when you let go of it. “Horror left everything spotless. As per usual. We’re kinda low on chocolate chips?”
He stared at you for a moment.
“... you’re not in any trouble,” he said.
You exhaled, lowering your shoulders. You couldn’t help but rub your arms. “Hah. Sorry. Was I that obvious?”
Nightmare chanced a little smile. Then he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, looking back to the papers in his hands.
“i could’ve sworn i just ordered more chocolate chips. i think killer is eating them.”
You tried (and failed) to hold back a laugh.
“Seriously? What, he’s just eating them straight out of the pack?”
He smiled again. A flash of perfect white teeth. “i wouldn’t be surprised.”
A beat of silence.
“listen,” Nightmare sighed, putting the papers down. “there’s... no professional way for me to ask this. and i want to make it clear you’re under no obligation to respond.”
You tilted your head. His eye was as unreadable as ever, but you felt like you knew him well enough at this point to say that his face betrayed some level of discomfort. Half-baked thoughts bounced around - were you in trouble after all? Your hands twisted in your apron. “Shoot,”
“are you working at star bakes?” he asked.
...
Eh?
Your mind went completely blank. Were you... working at Star Bakes?
...
How the hell did he know about that?
Star bakes was the only other bakery that had responded to your desperate jobsearching. Another bakery full of skeleton monsters, owned by a skeleton monster called Dream, the coincidence wasn’t lost on you. But you weren’t really sweating the details of which places accepted your applications. You just needed to make ends meet. On the days you didn’t have shifts with Nightmare’s crew, you had shifts at Star Bakes, it kept your head above water. You currently worked every day of the week except Monday.
You opened your mouth and closed it again. Was there something in your contract that said you weren’t actually allowed to work elsewhere? Fuck. You probably should’ve read the damn thing more closely. You just signed in a blind panic the moment you realised you’d actually got the job; same for Star Bakes. With the job market the way that it was you weren’t in any position to sweat details.
Some part of you suspected this was the kind of thing you needed to navigate carefully.
“... Yes?”
Uh. Crap. The word left your mouth before you could measure whether or not it was wise to say it. You wanted to reach up and slap your hand over your mouth.
Nightmare looked just as surprised as you did. You stared, deadpan, at your boss, your yes hanging in the air.
...
“i see,” he said.
Utterly indecipherable. His tone was as blank as your mind felt, but unlike your blankness, his was not a result of lack of thought. It was simply because his tone betrayed nothing at all.
...
“Am I getting fired?” you asked, bluntly. You’d already done the damage, right? So there was no use being delicate now.
Nightmare’s eye changed. It tensed, just a little, getting ever-so-slightly darker. If you weren’t in an enclosed room you wouldn’t have even noticed.
It was only recently you’d noticed that skeleton monster eyelights change with their emotions. It reminded you of the way a cat’s pupil would shift sizes. You’d spotted it with Horror, you could see it a mile off with how enormous his eye was; it shrank when he was stressed or surprised, and got bigger and brighter when he was happy. After that, you’d clocked it with Dust, and then with Nightmare.
Despite having an eyelight as big as Horror’s, Nightmare’s iris went through the subtlest of changes. He was as difficult to reliably study as Killer - whose complete lack of eyelights made him borderline unreadable. Spotting it at all felt like catching him flinching.
...
“no, i’m... not firing you.” His eye returned to normal. He sounded... almost like he couldn’t quite believe you’d asked him that. Almost offended. “of course not.”
“I didn’t know it was a problem,” you pressed. Okay, the nervousness was hitting now. You needed to stop twisting your hands in your apron so much or you were going to cut off the circulation in your fingers. “It doesn’t impact my work. I only work there on the days I can’t work here.”
“it isn’t a problem. i was just curious.”
It definitely was a problem. It absolutely, 100% was a problem. Now that you’d heard him speak more, you could start to see and hear the displeasure bleeding off of him. It was written all over his face; the forced edge to his white grin, the perfectly sharp border of his eyelight, the line between his brows that had escaped your notice until now.
“Is it... are they a competitor?” you asked. Maybe there was an anti-competition part in your contract you had missed.
His jaw shifted. “in a way.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think it’d be an issue,”
Nightmare was examining your face.
... And then he...
... sighed.
You were shocked. So shocked you stopped fiddling with your apron. You’d never seen him sigh before. Everything about Nightmare was contrary to everything a sigh represented - relaxation, resignation, ease. It was like seeing a statue get up and walk off.
“it’s not that.” His voice was so pleasant, so deep and musical. Whether he was delighted or deflated, you really could listen to him talk all day.
...
He appeared to reach some kind of mental conclusion. He closed his good eye, letting out another, slightly smaller sigh.
“if i don’t tell you, you’re going to keep worrying about it. aren’t you?” he said.
You weren’t sure whether or not you were supposed to actually answer that question. It didn’t matter either way, he continued before you could respond.
“you can’t tell anyone about this.”
You pricked up. A secret? You weren’t expecting that. “Alright,”
“my brother owns star bakes.”
...
“Your brother?” You really needed to get a hang of not letting your thoughts just fall out of your mouth like that, just because Nightmare was good looking and made you nervous.
Nightmare has a brother?
He looked down and to the side. “we don’t get along. at all. we haven’t for a long time. ”
Your eyes widened. You were honoured at being let in on family drama but you weren’t sure what kind of reaction Nightmare was looking for yet. Family problems...
His strange behaviour this evening all clicked into place. He wasn’t lying; you genuinely weren’t in trouble. You’d just unknowingly walked yourself into a familial dispute.
What were the chances of that, though? That of all the places in the city, you’d end up working at the two owned by siblings? You had noticed a remarkable resemblance between your two bosses. You’d just written it off as skeleton monsters having similar features. But you weren’t wrong, they were related.
(Although you were starting to wonder what on Earth caused Nightmare to look the way he did, if his brother was a regular skeleton. Maybe their mother was a skeleton, and their father was a slime, or something?)
“... you really can’t tell the other three any of what i’m about to say.” His gaze was heavy. “this is very personal.”
You nodded. “Of course, Nightmare.”
He seemed satisfied by that. He took a moment to collect his thoughts.
“my brother and i are orphans.” Holy shit, that was a big thing to open with. “we used to live quite far away from here. a few years ago we had a falling out that was... monumental, to say the least. i admit, for quite a while, i was bitter about the manner of our disagreement. we fought, i acted out, i did whatever i thought of to anger him.”
You related to that. Deeply so. You knew how it felt to fall out with family; was there anyone on Earth that could make you as upset as your family could? Was there anyone else that could make you so viscerally angry that you’d do anything to make them feel the way you felt?
“but now? it’s been so long. i’m sick of it. sick of him. i’m happy with the way my life is now.” Nightmare’s socket narrowed. “i just want to move on, finally forget about it. i’d like him to leave me alone.”
“Leave you alone?” Your heart dropped. “Is he following you?”
Nightmare nodded. “everywhere i go, he goes too. to ‘keep an eye’ on me. he always thinks i’m planning something nefarious, concocting some manner of getting back at him. he cannot comprehend that i want nothing to do with him anymore.” He looked down. It felt rude to be thinking this way while he was sharing something so personal with you, but you couldn’t help but think about how handsome he was from the angle he was standing. “he can’t imagine that my life doesn’t revolve around him anymore. i have no proof of it, but something in my gut tells me he only opened that damned bakery because i opened this cafe.”
“... I had no idea,” you said, softly. Knowing this, there was no way you could keep working at Star Bakes in good conscience.
“no one does. well - except killer.”
You blinked.
“Killer? You told Killer?”
Nightmare smiled, turning his body and putting his arm over the back of his chair. “killer is many things, i know. but he’s much more than he lets on. he’ll surprise you.”
Huh. You suddenly felt... odd. Naive? A little embarrassed. You shifted on your feet; Killer’s face flashed up in your mind, his constant smile and his endless harmless flirting. You always assumed that Dust was the mysterious one, the one with something to hide, the one with something underneath. All this time, and you never suspected that Killer was the one with more to him.
“I’m not sure if I want him to surprise me,” you mumbled.
Nightmare laughed. Actually laughed. Pride fluttered in your chest.
“anyway,” he stood from his chair. “in the future, don’t disclose your other employment to your bosses. that’s none of their business. i’m surprised you answered me so honestly.”
Another spike of embarrassment. But you giggled anyway, trying to just power through it. “I-it’s not that I don’t like this job! It’s just an income thing.”
His head tilted. “it is?”
“This city is expensive. Getting more expensive every day, too. Aside from opening my own place, there’s only so many places a baker can get work.”
“why didn’t you say anything if the salary was too low?”
“I... I’m new.” Your voice was getting progressively smaller. “I didn’t think I was in a position to be negotiating pay.”
“not in a - what are you talking about?” He turned to you fully. His face was rather intense all of a sudden.
“I-I bake and clean up.” Why was he acting like this? You weren’t anticipating such a strong reaction from him. “I’ve been here... what, just over a month? I’m barely out of my probationary period.”
“so you assumed you’re unnecessary?” His brow creased. “have we made you feel that way?”
“No, no of course not!” You held your hands up. “I guess, uhm. Monster work culture is probably quite different from human work culture, huh?”
He looked vaguely horrified. “yes. i assume so.”
You were thinking, now. If you had to choose between this job and the job at Star Bakes you’d hands-down pick this one. And knowing that Nightmare’s brother, the owner, was stalking him... you felt your stomach twist. The only issue would be how awkward it’d be to quit Star Bakes so soon after starting there. You hadn’t even met most of the other staff yet. Would it look bad on your resume? Would it put you in a bad spot in the future? You weren’t sure how comfortable you were with putting all your salary-eggs into one job-basket.
“Do you... want me to quit Star Bakes?”
...
Nightmare looked away. “that’s not my place to say anything. it’s completely up to you.”
You pursed your lips. The problem with being attracted to your boss was that you found yourself pleasantly flustered by things that should’ve been blaring HR violations.
“Am I allowed to talk shit about my other boss to you, then?”
Nightmare’s eye flashed. For a moment, there was something in his expression you hadn’t seen before. A sort of... mischievousness. It was a good look on him.
“oh yes,” he implored. “please. i have no one else to complain with.”
“Has Dream always been so hard to be around?” you immediately said, wasting absolutely no time. You and Nightmare exited his office together. “He’s got this... I don’t know, this constant fake happiness to him. He constantly needs everyone around him to be acting like they’re having the best day ever or he interrogates them. It’s exhausting. He’s exhausting.”
“yes. he’s always been like that.” Nightmare’s face was so warm. So pleasant. “even when we were children. negative emotions were something to attack, something to solve. you could never just be sad around him. he had to ‘cure’ it.”
“Yes, yes, that’s it! That’s exactly right. At first it was nice, he seemed considerate. But it’s become so... needling.” You untied your apron, pulling it off and balling it up in one hand. As you passed the laundry basket up against the wall you just chucked it in. “He notices every expression and won’t stop bothering you until you tell him.”
A certain smug relief had settled over Nightmare. “he hasn’t changed at all. he sees other people’s happiness as his duty. something he must ‘protect’. even when people really don’t want his help.”
“That sounds toxic.”
“it is.”
“Going to Star Bakes really feels like going to work. You know? I have to put an act on. I have fun here, I can let loose. I don’t have fun there.”
You opened the fridge again. You grabbed a takeout box from the middle shelf - your name was on the top, written in large and shaky handwriting.
“horror leaves you food?”
... Oop. You almost flinched. You’d been so absorbed in complaining, you forgot that you hadn’t told Nightmare about Horror leaving food for you. You assumed he didn’t put it through the till, and you didn’t want him to get in trouble for giving some pretty nice food out for free.
You turned to Nightmare, scrambling to cover for Horror. “I, uh... I told him that sometimes, I’m so tired I go to bed without remembering to have dinner. Every now and then he leaves me something. Just leftovers. Stuff that would’ve gone in the garbage.”
Nightmare gave you a knowing look. The fridge door closed heavily on its own. “we both know horror doesn’t leave enough food for anything to go into the garbage.”
You pursed your lips. That was true. There was no one on Earth more careful about food waste than Horror. If it was edible, it was repurposed, and if it wasn’t it went into food compost that he took home with him. Horror wasn’t chatty, but he did like to talk about the vegetable garden he and his brother had.
“U-uh...”
“relax.” Nightmare touched your upper arm. “it’s a good thing, he only does that with people he’s especially fond of. means you two are getting along well. food means a great deal to him, i would never stop him from sharing it.”
“You’re sure?”
“positive.” He grinned down at you. “also, i’m not sure i could stop him if i tried.”
You snickered, relieved at yet another thing you were worried about turning out to be alright. This really is the better place to work. You picked your bag off the hook by the door, tucking the box away into it and slinging it over your shoulder.
“I really do prefer working here,” you reiterated. You pushed open the kitchen doors, holding them open for Nightmare to follow. “I’m not just saying that. I prefer the store, I like the guys. Horror looks after me. Dust brings me coffee. Killer... could use a few workplace appropriateness workshops. But I’m never actually uncomfortable around him. And he’s such a riot.”
Nightmare’s eye glowed brighter again. The doors swung shut behind him. “i’m glad to hear it.”
You looked up at Nightmare anew, examining him... his face, his body language. He looked different in the dim cafe lighting. Something about him had relaxed as the evening had gone on; this was by far the longest amount of time the two of you had ever spent one on one. The guardedness he always carried had lifted a bit, like mist thinning somewhat in morning sunlight. He’d laughed more in the last ten minutes than you’d seen in all your time working there so far. Usually, your interactions with him were short pleasant conversations, professional-level catch ups. Sometimes he’d make you a hot drink around closing time. But that was all. This was the first time you felt like you were actually getting a sense of... well, Nightmare. Whatever pieces constituted that personality you were desperate to know more about.
Nightmare paused.
“i just wish you had said something about the salary before.” His voice was so calm. So pleasant. “we have more than enough budget. i’m happy to raise it.”
“I - really?”
“of course. you’re invaluable here.”
Your heart damn near skipped a beat. You had never, ever considered that getting a pay rise would be this easy. You stepped back, resting your back against the main counter. “O-oh,”
“i wasn’t joking when i said hiring has been difficult. i could barely get anyone through the door.” You wondered if he was examining you the same way you’d been examining him, or if you were just imagining the way he was looking down at you. “not only are you popular with those three idiots, you’re good at what you do. you’re reliable. i couldn’t have asked for anyone better.”
Damnit. You were blushing. “Nightmare, are you buttering me up? You aren’t subtle.”
He chuckled again.
“... we like having you here,” he said. “i like having you here, too.”
“You do?”
“yes. very much.”
...
“you, ah... you have a little flour,” he tapped his head.
“O-oh!” Embarrassed, you reached up, wiping at your forehead. “I-is it gone?”
“ah - no. here, let me just...”
He leant in. He put one hand on the counter beside you, to steady himself, and reached up with the other. His thumb, incredibly gentle, brushed a few times just below your hairline.
Your throat closed. Uh oh. He was so close. The hair on your neck was prickling, and not in a bad way. Could he see your eyes wandering? Could he see the way your gaze kept flicking between his mouth and his chest?
“there,” he murmured. You could feel his voice in your chest.
...
He didn’t step back. His eye shifted down to meet your gaze. You were close enough to see the way his iris widened ever-so-slightly. Just as your eyes darted down to his mouth... you saw his iris do the same.
...
He leant in. And you met him in the middle.
Kissing him wasn’t at all like you’d imagined. You’d imagined it quite a lot. You thought your heart would be racing, you thought it’d feel dangerous and exhilarating, like you were doing something you shouldn’t. And though your heart definitely was racing, so loud in your ears you could barely hear anything else... this close to him, you felt so... safe.
Despite how intimidating he was as a person, kissing him, you felt like nothing could ever hurt you again. You put your hands on either side of his chest, underneath his shoulders, feeling the fabric of his jacket. You felt his free hand settle on your lower back, in turn, just resting there. It sent shivers up your spine.
He smelled like a heavy and dark cologne, like lavender, and he tasted like expensive tea. It was dizzying.
He’s so warm.
...
Nightmare pulled back first.
The two of you stood there in silence, staring at each other. You’d never seen his eyelight so bright. Or so big. It was beautiful.
...
... Then reality snapped back in. Your eyes widened - Nightmare’s eye constricted.
“... fuck.”
“Shit.”
You stepped away at the same time - both of your hands flew up to your mouth, covering it. Nightmare moved back, you moved to the side, unable to back up any further than you already were.
“that.” He held his hands up like he’d been caught stealing. “that can’t happen.”
“We - we’re both tired. Right?” You’d left a little fingerprint of flour on his collar. “We’ve both had a long day.”
“right. right,”
“I-I’m working two jobs. And you’re running a business. We aren’t... we aren’t thinking straight. No one even... it didn’t happen. This didn’t happen. Right?”
His back straightened. “yes. yes, of course.”
“O-of course.”
...
You didn’t know why it started. Perhaps it was the awkwardness. Perhaps it was because you were wound up and full of nerves. Maybe it was just the absurdity of the whole situation. But suddenly, you were holding in giggles. And then equally as suddenly you were not holding in giggles. You couldn’t help it. You started laughing.
“w-what?” You’d never seen Nightmare so genuinely confused. It wasn’t the usual, handsomely unflappable, one-brow-quirked confusion. He truly appeared to not understand.
Oh stars, I hope he doesn’t think I’m laughing at HIM.
It didn’t seem to matter. Before long, despite his clear confusion, a grin broke out on his face. Then he was laughing too. Maybe the comedy of the situation was just finally dawning on him. Nightmare had such a nice laugh.
“I-I’m sorry,” you wheezed, managing to just about pull yourself together enough to talk. You wiped your eyes. “I have no idea what’s so funny. I just... man, if we had an HR,”
“i kissed my employee after closing and told them not to tell anyone.” He ran his hand down his face. “one of us would be out of a job.”
“Th-this was... a surprising evening.” You eyed the clock nervously. “Erm. Speaking of which. I-I really should get going. I’m in again tomorrow, and...”
“i - yes. you should.” He turned to look back to the kitchen. He seemed so - flustered? But that couldn’t be right, surely not. “and i should... get back to...”
He paused.
... Then he turned back to you.
“actually. may i walk you home?” he asked. “i know that that ‘didn’t happen’. but i don’t know how i feel about just... sending you off after that.”
You looked behind you. Outside the cafe, it was now pitch black. It looked remarkably dark - and remarkably cold. Several degrees scarier than you remember.
...
“I-I... yes,” you said. “If you don’t mind. I would like the company.”
He nodded. “i’ll go get my coat from my office.”
Maybe it was the low lighting. Maybe it was the evening. Maybe it was just the excitement from kissing him still making you woozy. But as he turned, you could’ve sworn there was the faintest sheen of cyan across his cheekbones.
... You didn’t expect Nightmare to be thrown so much after a kiss. Nightmare was so cool, so suave. Your fingers brushing his when he passed you a coffee made you unable to think straight. There was no way someone as guarded as Nightmare could be reduced to stammering from just a kiss. Right?
...
You couldn’t help yourself from touching a hand to your cheek, smiling like a fool.
The thought of Nightmare, possibly, being just as flustered as you were from a simple kiss...
I’m stuck between 2 and 5… I feel like the doctor would be able to help me out if I got airplane sickness, or he would just say things that would make me even more sick. Hmmmmmm decisions decisions~
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