sunflower: resurrected (a maxpres fic rewrite) (2022)

sunshine

After yet another long and tiring day at work, I flick my visor and apron into my locker. I gather my sweater, phone, and keys, pocketing the items and tying my sweater around my waist. It's my last shift for this week at this shitty little coffee shop and, honestly, I'd take going to school over going to this job any day. The manager is way too sweet for her own good, she lets customers push her around, and frankly, it's fucking frustrating to watch. Even if the customer is being shitty for no reason, she insists we just let them get their way and give them a friendly smile. Better to have a happy customer even if it makes us all miserable, I guess. Summer jobs do have this way of making you feel like the lowest piece of shit.

I grumble to myself as I shut my locker and leave the back room.

Two more months of this "customer is always right" bullshit and I'll be off to school again.

Eager to leave this actual hellhole, I almost sprint towards the exit. I wave goodbye to Nerris as I pass the front counter. They waved back, then quickly brought their attention to the angry customer they were tending to. I felt kinda bad for a second but Nerris was the one that insisted we trade shifts today. Something about a dragon or an army of angry orcs that need defeating tomorrow. They could have just told me they miss-scheduled their DND session. Nerd.

I've always been kind of impressed with the fact that they never grew out of that magic nerd stuff. That's dedication. Nerris and I never hang out together, but we're friendly with each other, working together and all. We're the only people our age that work at the coffee shop so we don't have a choice. It kind of helps that I already knew them from camp. I roll my eyes remembering that poor excuse for a camp. What a money-grabbing joke. That place, of course, was shut down years ago. What with all the lawsuits, missing and injured children, and Cameron Campbell's arrest. Good fucking riddance.

I push open the front doors and a gust of wind pushes some curly black hair out of my eyes.

Damn, I didn't even notice it was hanging over my eyes. I need a fucking haircut.

The weather is still pretty hot, despite the wind, so my sweater stays around my waist. I start walking down the sidewalk towards where my car is parked. I stare down at my shoes as I hang a left and make my way towards the parking lot.
My footsteps stutter slightly as I hear a loud voice approaching me. I glance up for a second and feel my breath empty from my lungs.

Holy shit.

He has long, shiny, auburn hair in a messy bun and the brightest eyes that I've ever seen.
His boots make a low clicking noise as he walks briskly past me. He is holding a phone up to his mouth, yelling into it. His mouth is forming words and curses as his free hand flails dramatically, but I can't hear a single thing he's saying. He glances down at me for only a moment, but it's overwhelming enough because when our eyes meet I feel an overwhelming pressure in my chest. Nostalgia.

When his loud voice fades as he turns a corner I stop walking to collect myself for a moment. Holy shit. I shake my head and pull my car keys out of my pocket as I approach my car. Technically it's not my car, but David is doing house chores, so it's mine for today.
My keys jingle in my shaking hands as I miss the lock a few times. I angrily mutter a few curses before successfully pushing the key into the lock and opening my car door.

Once I'm inside and the door has been slammed shut, I look up at the ceiling, confused and think about what just happened.
The eyes, the legs, that hair, that voice. And my brain lost control of its basic functions. I run my hands down my face in annoyance and kick my legs. Fuck. It was him, wasn't it? It was definitely him. Why him?

This is some fucking cheesy rom-com bullshit.

"Okay. Okay, fuck. Calm the fuck down. This doesn't even mean anything. I probably just got startled by that weirdo yelling and stomping down the street. Who does that? There is no way I would ever miss a dickhead who does something like that."

Great, now I'm talking to myself. What's next? A fucking musical number?

I mentally slap myself at the mention of musicals.