𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄

End in smoke

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

❝ to produce no concrete or positive result ❞

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

"I failed."

"And whose fault is that?"

Mitsuya was not wrong. Yes, it was indeed my fault that a very prominent, uncharacteristically huge, 'F' was attached along with the essay that had been returned to me. I thought I was slick, entrusting Mikey with something so important, who didn't even know how to spell gorgeous.

"On the brighter side.... I can still cover it up in my finals... I think."

He cocked a brow, "You think?"

"Don't underestimate me. I read an average of twelve fanfictions per month. Full 500k childhood best friends to lovers."

"I'm afraid I don't quite follow."

"I do!"

Baji's booming voice startled the two of us, but he, being himself, was unable to notice the surprise in our stances. Rather, he slapped both of our backs, clearing his throat to give a well eloquent speech on Fanfictions.

"Have you heard of smu—"

"Baji. Shut up. Do not speak. Eat your vocal cords. Consume them. Your voice is unpleasant."

"You're unpleasant."

Mitsuya quietly sipped from his boba tea, not at all fazed by our probable fifteenth argument we'd had this evening. It was a bad idea to let these two hang around my workplace when there were little to no customers.

I could've left early, if it wasn't for their company. There was not much to do today apart from hissing and bumping heads with Baji on purpose.

The bell dangling above the wooden door jingled, the one co-worker alongside me and I both plastering our gazes to it to see who it was.

A bunch of teens sauntered in, laughing about something. Instant creases of annoyance appeared on my temple, realising how painfully hard it was to deal with a group of hormonal pieces of shit, more so when they tried to be quirky by accidentally forgetting to pay the bills.

I stood up in a somewhat reluctant manner, clicking my tongue almost inaudibly, "Duty calls. I'll be back in a while."

"Good luck! Everything we ate here is on you, by the way!" Baji grinned innocently, as my eye twitched, while a plastic smile remained stuck to my face.

"Wait till I come back, my dearest customer."

My co-worker, Kumi, stole nervous glances at me, as if politely asking me to deal with them. She didn't have a particularly pleasant history with teenagers, and even if she didn't want me to, I'd have taken up on the job either way. She was already helping me enough by managing everything while I was busy chatting with the two guys— who had now indulged in a conversation.

"Good evening, what would you like?" I pulled up my signature smile, ignoring the silent exchange they were having with their eyes.

"Hmm...." A brunet boy, about the same age as Kumi, skimmed through the menu, before staring at the badge pinned to my apron, "Y/N. I'd like a.... Y/N."

Oh no.

He was a fuckboy.

I awkwardly laughed it off, not in the position of saying anything that'd end up with me losing my job. The other three with him covered their mouths with the back of their hands, pretending to not notice anything that was going on.