A few days had passed since the incident, the memory of it fading into the backdrop of Damian's mind. The city, with its pulsating energy and relentless rhythm, had a way of making even the most vivid memories seem distant.
Damian found himself wandering the streets, his footsteps echoing against the concrete. The city was a symphony of sounds - the distant hum of traffic, the occasional laughter spilling out from a nearby café, the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. It was a familiar soundtrack, one that had accompanied him on countless nights.
But tonight, his thoughts were elsewhere. He was contemplating a change, a shift from his current lifestyle. The idea of getting a real job had been playing on his mind. It was a daunting thought, a departure from the life he had known. Yet, there was a part of him that yearned for it, a part of him that was drawn to the promise of stability and normalcy.
As he roamed the streets, he found himself observing the people around him. The office workers hurrying home after a long day, the shopkeepers closing up for the night, the street performers packing up their instruments. They all had something he didn't - a purpose, a place in the grand scheme of things.
He passed by a bakery, the sweet aroma of fresh pastries wafting through the air. His eyes landed on a slice of tiramisu in the display window. It was his favorite, a small indulgence he allowed himself. He bought a slice, his mind still preoccupied.
Back home, he sat on the rooftop, the cityscape spread out before him. He took a bite of the tiramisu, the familiar flavors bringing a sense of comfort. He looked out at the city, his city, and made a decision. He would try to find a job, try to carve out a new path for himself.
The night was quiet, the city seemingly holding its breath as Damian contemplated his future. It was a moment of introspection, a moment of decision. And as he sat there, the city at his feet, Damian felt a strange sense of peace. He was ready for whatever came next. This was his world, his story. And he was ready to turn the page.
With newfound determination, Damian decided to try his hand at an honest job. He returned to the bakery, his heart pounding with anticipation and a hint of fear.
Will I be able to get a job?
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"Alright, Damian," the bakery owner, a stout man with a flour-dusted apron, began, "Let's see what you've got."
The first test was kneading dough. "A good baker can feel when the dough is just right," the owner explained, handing Damian a lump of dough. Damian rolled up his sleeves and began to knead, his hands working the dough with surprising gentleness.
"Good, good," the owner nodded, watching Damian's progress. "Now, let's see how you handle the oven."
Damian was then tasked with baking a batch of bread. The heat of the oven was intense, but Damian didn't flinch. He carefully placed the dough into the oven, setting the temperature as instructed.
While waiting for the bread to bake, Damian was asked to frost some cupcakes. "Precision and creativity, that's what we need here," the head baker, a woman with a kind smile, told him. Damian picked up the piping bag and began to work, his focus evident in his furrowed brow.
When the timer for the bread rang, Damian promptly took it out of the oven. The bread was perfectly baked, a golden brown crust encasing the soft interior. He turned to face the man, waiting for the next task. The man never spoke for a long time, Damian knew he must've screwed up somewhere.
After all, he learned how to bake by simply watching YouTube videos. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his forehead, will this man say something already? He was starting to lose patience.
"Well, Damian," the owner said, a smile spreading across his face, "I think you've got the job."
The days rolled by quickly and soon, it was Monday - Damian's first day at the bakery. His role was primarily in the kitchen, tucked away from the customers' view. He was the unseen artist behind the mouth-watering pastries and bread that filled the bakery's display cases. His hands, once used for less honorable deeds, were now creating culinary delights.
However, Wednesdays were different. On Wednesdays, Damian swapped his baker's hat for a cashier's apron. He would step out from the back and interact with the customers, his charismatic and extroverted personality making him a hit with the regulars.
It was a Wednesday, and Damian was at the cashier's counter. The bakery was bustling with customers, the air filled with the sweet aroma of baked goods. Amidst the crowd, a man walked in. He was dressed impeccably in a crisp button-up shirt and dress pants. His hair was a glossy black, neatly styled, and his eyes were a captivating dark green. He had an air of sophistication and wealth about him, and his handsome features were striking.
The man's gaze scanned the bakery and landed on Damian. Recognition flashed in his eyes, but Damian was too engrossed in his work to notice. It was only when the man approached the counter to place his order that Damian looked up and met his gaze.
The world seemed to slow down as Damian found himself lost in those familiar green eyes. A shiver ran down his spine as memories flooded back - the attempted pickpocketing, the firm grip on his hand, and those mesmerizing eyes.
The man noticed Damian's reaction and a small smirk played on his lips. Leaning in slightly, he said in a low, smooth voice, "We meet again, Damian."
As Damian prepared the man's order, his heart pounded like a drum in his chest. The aroma of the freshly brewed coffee filled his senses, and the buttery croissant sat perfectly on the plate. He was so engrossed in his task that he didn't notice the man's intense gaze on him. The man's eyes, a captivating shade of green, watched Damian's every move.
When Damian finally looked up, ready to hand over the order, he found the man had already walked off to find a seat. A wave of annoyance washed over him, but he picked up the tray and began to navigate his way through the bustling bakery.
The man had chosen a table near the window, the morning sunlight casting a warm glow on his handsome features. He was engrossed in his phone, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the screen. His expensive-looking shoe tapped impatiently on the floor, the sound echoing in Damian's ears.
As Damian approached the table, he decided to slow his pace, just to irk the man a bit. He moved with deliberate slowness, a small smirk playing on his lips. But just as he was about to reach the man's table, disaster struck.
An old lady, frail and hunched, accidentally bumped into Damian. The collision sent him stumbling forward, the tray in his hands tipping over. The coffee splashed onto the table, the croissant tumbled onto the man's lap, and Damian found himself half sprawled across the table.
The old lady was quick to apologize, her voice trembling with worry. Damian, still in shock, could only mutter a quick "It's okay." He closed his eyes for a moment, trying not to snap at the poor old lady.
He calmed down and when he opened them again, he found himself in a pool of coffee, the man looking at him in surprise. Damian could only let out a sigh, realizing the extent of the mess he was in. His first day as a cashier, and he had managed to spill coffee on a customer. This was definitely not how he had imagined his day would go.
Damian rose from the table, his apron and part of his shirt soaked in coffee. He couldn't help but think that if anyone wanted a coffee-scented perfume, they could just replicate his current predicament. Standing next to the man, he tried to squeeze the coffee out of his apron, but it only dripped down his hands, some droplets even landing on the man's expensive shoes.
A wave of worry washed over Damian. What if this man, who looked quite influential, got him fired? The man watched him, surprise evident in his green eyes. Damian noticed the croissant that had fallen onto the man's lap. Reaching out, he picked it up, unintentionally touching the man's lap with his coffee-drenched hand. Holding up the croissant, he smiled and said, "You can still eat this."
Before the man could respond, the store owner rushed over. He gave Damian a small slap on the back of his head, causing Damian to wince and rub the spot. "We're so sorry about that," the owner said, "It's only his first week here. You may order anything and it'll be free of charge." The man nodded, and the owner returned to his duties.
Confused and unsure of what to do next, Damian headed back to the cashier. The man sat there for a long second, before following him, "Aren't you going to clean this up?" Damian shrugged, and the man muttered, "I've got a meeting to attend, I can't go looking like I wet my pants." Damian, curious, tippy-toed to see over the counter and burst out laughing, "It really does look like you wet your pants!" His loud comment drew the attention of the other customers, adding to the chaos of the moment.
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A/N: Another chapter completed!