Name, Please?

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The day was sunny. The air was crisp. The weather was fair. Most teenagers were hanging out with their friends and latest flings.

Sirius Black was working in Hot Topic, ringing up a girl’s corset and choker to the classy tunes of Pierce the Veil.

“Do you have a rewards account with us, ma’am?” Sirius droned as he shook his controlled mess of obsidian waves out of his face.

“Um… no?” the girl stammered. Redness flooded her cheeks as her heavily made up eyes averted themselves in discomfort.

“Then that'll be thirty-eight dollars, ma'am.”

Sirius knew this girl's type: rebelling against conservative parents or society or some other bullshit like that. She'd show up every now and then, buy the most risqué merchandise, dye her hair, and then regret everything afterwards. In ten years, the hundreds of dollars worth of shit she'd purchased trying to be a rebel would be hidden in the back of her closet while she was either a) at some prestigious college that her mommy and daddy were paying for, or b) working a minimum wage job trying to provide for the accidental child she had too young.

Sirius knew this girl's type. He was this girl's type, sans the hair dye and the regret. He cared too much about his hair to kill it with chemicals, but otherwise, everything about him said “fuck society and my parents.” He was all leather jackets, ripped jeans, and combat boots. He was badass, and he knew it.

But he was also bored.

And lonely, since James Potter, his best friend, was gone on a holiday with his really freaking perfect parents and he had no other friends to speak of, let alone a lover.

So when the girl shyly asked him when his shift ended and gave him her phone number, he didn't say yes or no. He simply flashed her his devil-may-care grin and accepted the ten digits on his arm as a possibility.

———————

When Sirius’s lunch break rolled around, he spent his stroll down to the food court contemplating the phone number on his arm in all of its ballpoint glory. He didn't find himself particularly repulsed by the girl, nor did he find himself particularly enamored with her either.

But who knows? Even if he didn't end up hooking up with her, maybe they could be friends.

All he had was James, and though Sirius loved the boy like a brother, he couldn't just go through life with one friend, right?

Making the decision to text the girl after he'd ordered his coffee, Sirius finally came to a stop at the Starbucks counter.

He looked up.

———————

Remus Lupin had only just started his shift at the food court Starbucks, and his day was already off to a rough start. He'd scalded himself with boiling hot coffee, gotten three orders wrong, and been yelled at by an overly sensitive girl for spelling “Aycia” wrong (was it really his fault for spelling it “Asia?”). He was not in the mood for people, at the moment.

But then he looked up and caught the gray-eyed gaze of his most regular customer, and all was forgotten.

“Hello, My Chemical Romance.” Perhaps Remus’s greeting was dripping with sarcasm, but his heart was fluttering at the sight of the Hot Topic Boy's easy smirk.

Goddammit.  

“Hello, Remus,” Hot Topic (and oof was he a hot topic) Boy drawled. “Charming as always, I see.”

“Only bringing out my best for you,” Remus replied in what he hoped was a relaxed, easy-going manner.

“I'm honored.”

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⏰ Letzte Aktualisierung: Feb 19, 2018 ⏰

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