Elliot’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it, hands rushing to open the fire extinguisher cabinet. He shouted for the chef to pull away from the open oven before releasing the foam.
With the fire out and pizzas ruined, he stepped out of the kitchen and leaned heavily on the wall. Foam was clinging to his head and arms as he let out a few shaky breaths. His phone buzzed again and with a frustrated grunt he checked it. Just a few missed calls?
The text on the dim screen was almost intelligible. He squinted at the notifications but through his flustered haze he made out the contact name. Builderman.
He blinked cartoonishly and fumbled to send a quick text. He was busy! The kitchen was in a mess. The manager was sure to be in hysterics. He was certain Builderman would understand but nervousness pricked at the back of his head. His fingers stalled as he thought of what he still had to do.
Before the fire started he was discussing the depleted sauce and dough supply with the chef to relay to the manager. Maybe if he had waited until they were unoccupied then they wouldn’t have missed the beeping of the oven. The pizza would still be edible and more money wouldn’t have to go into replenishing their already low supply. Embarrassment burned inside his gut. The manager would soon be in hysterics.
It wasn’t uncommon for Builderman — or “Builder” as he has grown to call him — to visit the pizza place. He didn’t always order something. Most times he’d greet him but leave him to work the register while he sat in a booth close by. He’d catch glimpses of Builderman staring at him and giggle at the awestruck look on his face. Sometimes he’d wink playfully or wave and watch his content smile grow.
Elliot pressed his hand to his sweaty forehead underneath the visor. He could hear the cook for that week frantically trying to make up for lost time. At the crash, he took that as his sign to find the manager or any other employee. They were short-staffed that week but enough hands were available to delegate the task of supply run to someone else. As he stepped in to return the fire extinguisher he felt his phone vibrate again.
He frowned. It would be fine to ignore it for a little longer.
The end of his shift came by too soon. Elliot was wiping down the counter when the notifications from that afternoon zipped through his thoughts, interrupting his rhythmic swipes. He pressed his hand above his eyes before taking a quick breath. He opened his phone and scrolled through his recent messages. A “look at this trick :]” from ‘Noobie’ and an ‘It’s okay.’ from ‘Builder’. His sister and father haven’t said anything. He should be home early enough to see Mia at dinner.
He let out a curious but worried sound at ‘Builder’s’ text. His fingers pressed into the frame of his phone case as his mind wandered to what Builder could be trying to console him about. Has something gone wrong? How?
He opened the chat in a daze, bracing for any conflict or error. The oldest message was from himself, stating that he would be on the road to work soon and wishing Builderman a fun day. Below that was a confirmation of “I will.” from Builderman.
After that was a series of pictures that looked to be on a beach? Nothing like the ones he’s seen on his island. The water was clear with visible sand beneath the ripples. The most recent picture was of Builder himself. He had a content smile on his face with the sun illuminating his cheeks with a warm glow. It made the small cuts on his chin and cheeks visible. It made him wonder how he got them. From shaving maybe? He was lacking his signature hat. His silhouette looked odd without it.
Seeing his bare head with nothing obscuring his eyes felt like he was observing something he shouldn’t. Something private and almost intimate. He pushed that last thought away as he let out an excited exhale.
It wasn’t uncommon for them to exchange pictures but he was usually too busy to consider anything he’s doing interesting or ‘picture worthy’. If he was encouraged enough on his brief breaks he’d snap a picture of himself and whatever snack he was scarfing down.
He sent a heart first then made quick work to reply to each picture. He giggled at the antics within them. Builderman had even captured a small crab in a kiddie bucket. It looked cute peering up at the camera. Elliot grinned warmly, soothed by the pictures and Builderman’s responses. He kicked his legs in intervals as he texted Builderman, the counter long forgotten.
A cough behind him, from someone he couldn’t name. He hadn’t seen them much at all today, they must have been on delivery. He waved at them sheepishly before putting his phone in his pocket. He made his way outside, certain the counter was clean enough as is.
He hopped onto his bike and sped on home with his heart light inside his chest. His head was light too but that would be fixed after he made himself dinner. He wanted to be at home before giving Builderman a call to tell him about his day and the fire and the small accident he heard whispers of between a supply truck and a mailbox.
He hummed, throat buzzing with excitement. Elliot pulled into his house’s lane. It was far removed from the neighbourhood near his workplace but the quiet was calming after a hectic day. He didn’t bother calling out to anyone. He knew they would either be in their rooms or hanging out in the living room. He kicked off his shoes and made his way to his bedroom.
He collapsed into his desk chair and let himself breathe for a few minutes. He pulled out his phone again, mind wandering to what his dinner would be that night. It wasn’t often he got home this early. He should treat himself.
He pressed call under Builderman’s contact. He smiled when he answered. Tonight should be a fun night.
Fuck it, random little doodle of Greasefire being a glitch to the one dude who knows his real form. Gonna call the human Mike Smictz and he’s waiting every day to punt this guy into the stratosphere, getting steel toed boots to do it
