Markers have always been one of my least favorite mediums to use, but I want to get better! feat. Clem and Aurore from @dreamtydraw's game, 21 Questions.
Fandom: Apple Bag
Wordcount: 1496
Rating: T for some swearing and, well, armed robbery.
Notes: This fic is a secret santa gift for @dreamtydraw!!! I absolutely adored the demo for Apple Bag. I'm in love already, and I can't wait to play more of this game! Seriously, y'all, go play it, you won't be sorry.
Thanks also to @crescencestudio for putting this thing together. Exchanges are a lot of work and I have seen some seriously amazing gifts come out of this one.
(You can also find this fic over on AO3 if that's more your jam.)
3:00. The quietest hour of the night shift by far. I loved the night shift, and my regulars, but something about 3 am just seemed to keep even the night owls at home. It gave me time to do some of the more esoteric tasks around the shop without worrying about someone coming in, like clean up the inexplicable mess caused by sunscreen that had been sliced open.
At first, I’d thought the sunscreen issue was malicious, but then I looked at the way they were all cut the same way, and realized the obvious fact I’d missed the first time around. This was done by a box cutter. All in a stripe. They’d probably been cut almost all the way through when they first arrived, and whether that was Agathe or someone else… who knows. It was old and practically expired anyway. There was nothing to do but clean it up and put some more on the order sheet.
I was elbow-deep wiping sunscreen off of the shelf when the bell on the door jingled, signaling a customer.
Of course, someone shows up while I’m a complete mess. Why today of all days?
“I’ll be with you in just a moment!” I called, hastily wiping my arms on one of the dry towels. The customer didn’t say anything at all, which made the situation go from irritating to creepy real quick. I tossed the towel onto the supply cart and made my way back to the front where someone in a black hoodie was browsing the magazine racks. For a moment, I thought maybe it was one of my regulars, but their hoodie was usually greener than black, and a pullover not zip, and they usually didn’t wear the hood up, and their figure was definitely more… no, stop thinking about their figure, they’re not even here. Focus on the customer in front of you, silly.
“Hi, welcome! Can I help you find anything?”
The customer shook their head, and I couldn’t help but notice that they weren’t really looking at the magazines, they were just kind of standing there. Great. That’s not creepy in the slightest. I settled myself behind the counter and idly watched the little television up above the shelves. If they needed help, they’d ask for it.
Just enough time later for me to have gotten distracted by the Match Game reruns on the TV, my oddly-timed customer walked up to the counter, and I flinched, startled, when they spoke.
“Hey. Empty the register.”
I turned, wide-eyed, to see the man brandishing a rather wicked looking knife at me, then at the register. His face was covered with a mask, which wasn’t really out of place these days, but the malice in his eyes wasn’t something I would soon forget.
“W-what?”
“Hurry up. Cash. Now.”
What’s going on? A robbery? No one robs people in this town! It’s small! And quaint! And the night shift is completely safe!
Well. It was. Not anymore. Now there was a wild-eyed man standing in front of me at the counter holding me up at knife-point. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I knew that emptying that cash register was the last thing I could do. On instinct, I reached out and turned the key that locked the drawer, and then put it in my pocket.
“No, I don’t think I’m going to do that.”
Most people didn’t have the guts to actually hurt another person. Threaten, yes, but not hurt. This person, however…
I backed up hurriedly as they vaulted the counter in front of me with one hand. What the hell. What the hell?!
They say that when your fight or flight instinct kicks in, you don’t really notice, you just react. Let me tell you, that’s a load of shit. The adrenaline spike that rocketed through my system was nothing short of legendary as I hauled ass around the shelf and back towards the entrance to the back room. There was nothing to defend myself with out here, and my phone was up at the counter still. The best chance I had was to put that door between them and me, and get out the back of the shop into the alley.
Unfortunately for me, that was never going to happen. I should have been able to make it. I was a pretty fast runner, and I had familiarity with my location on my side. But I also had a spill of sunscreen that I had been in the middle of cleaning up, and it turned out that sunscreen plus tile floor made for an impossibly slippery mess. The next thing I knew I was hitting the floor and sliding hard into the shelf, causing bottles of beauty products to fall haphazardly at my head. The would-be robber was, of course, right behind me. Having seen me fall to the sunscreen mess, he’d stopped before slipping in it himself.
I scrambled to my feet just as he got into my personal space, the knife point against my throat.
“You think you’re smart, little one?”
All thought left my brain. I couldn’t shake my head for fear of cutting myself on the point of his knife. He grabbed my wrist with his other hand, and I winced.
“You’re going to be good and come empty the register into a bag for me, and then I’m going to walk away into the night, and you’re going to tell no one. Got it?”
I swallowed, but didn’t say anything. He pulled the knife away from my neck, snarling. “Got. It?”
“I can’t do that.” I said, thinking about Agathe, about the shop, about my job and how I’d never amount to anything as a dropout without this job, this place…
White-hot pain seized me as the knife found purchase in my side. I know that I probably screamed, but if I did, I definitely didn’t hear it.
“What about now? You want another, or are you going to do as you’re told?”
Suddenly, his head snapped to the side as a yellow bag slammed into it, apples scattering everywhere, the knife skittering out of his hand and underneath a nearby shelf.
Behind him, my blue-haired regular stood, breathing heavily.
“Get. The fuck. Out. Of this. Shop.” They said, breathing hard, their tone awash with rage. The man looked at them, at me, at the direction their knife went, and at the very angry person staring them down, and ran out of the store like they, well, like they were being chased by someone with a knife.
“I’m sorry about the apples. I… uh, I’ll pay for them. Are you… oh god. You’re hurt. Stay with me, okay? Let me help you.”
It felt like I blinked, and then suddenly I was sitting on the stool behind the counter, and my regular was holding a gauze pad against my wound.
“I’m sorry I was too late, I was coming by to get noodles, and I saw the guy jump the counter, and…” They stopped, and took a few deep breaths. “Look, it’s… it’s not good, but you’ll be okay.” They said, taping the gauze down. “Please, if this ever happens again, just give them the money, then call the cops, okay? You’re so much more important than a register full of cash. More important than this entire shop. Your life is… it’s just so precious.”
They sounded choked up, and I couldn’t help but reach a hand out to touch their shoulder. Words were hard. I was still buzzing with adrenaline and pain and terror, and my throat felt like it was fused shut.
“I called the cops, they should be here.. uh, soon. I told them you’re hurt, so… yeah… But I can’t still be here when they get here. It’s not.. I just.. you’ll be okay. You have to be okay. I’ll come see you again soon.”
“Hey.” I reached out and grabbed their sleeve as they turned to go. “Can I at least know the name of my savior now? I know you said…”
They chuckled ruefully, but shook their head. “Next time, shopkeep. I’ll tell you next time.” They leaned forward and pushed their mask down to leave a gentle kiss on my forehead. I felt my cheeks flush as they hurried out the front door, and I watched, as I always did, until they made it home safe. To think I’d been afraid of them the first time they came into my shop. Afraid that they’d be like the man tonight, and instead, they were my savior.
While the paramedics who arrived were patching me up, all I could think about was that bag of apples they’d hit my attacker with. Where had it come from? We didn’t sell apples like that, and yet… there it was. That apple bag saved my life tonight. Well, my favorite regular saved my life with that apple bag. Semantics.
