~Cariño: A Quackbur Story~

~Bitter as Coffee~

Admittedly, I haven't stopped thinking about him. 

I went to the little shop every Friday since then. It's been about two years.
We both are seniors in high school. Quackity decided to grow out his hair. I've somewhat mastered my guitar. I have a job now. And now I have glasses. We've both changed a lot. But that tiny coffee shop hasn't changed one bit. It's authentic. It's calming. It's natural.

I've gotten to know Alex's parents. They're funny and exciting to be around. Just like Alex himself. And funnily enough completely different from my parents. Speaking of my parents...

I was in my room, adjusting my guitar strings and strumming them mindlessly. I heard my door creaked open and looked up to see a tall woman with dark black hair. She was brown sparkly eyes and fair skin. She frowned at me.

"What is it Mum?" I pushed up the bridge of my glasses.

"Wilbur... I got this letter from your job." She held out a letter.

I stood up, my eyebrow was raised. I took the letter from her, confused. I thumbed the fold of the envelop, opening it. I pulled out the paper in the envelope. I put my hand over my mouth, reading the note.

My mum looked concerned. "What is it, love. What does it say?"

I sighed. "It-it says it needed to cut back staff. I'm one of the twenty people that got cut."

Fired.

Honestly, it wasn't the first time I got fired. I had a track record. This was the longest job I kept. And I worked really hard to keep it. This job lasted three months.

My mother's frown deepened. "Oh, honey it's okay." She patted my back. "It's fine. I never liked that job. Actually, I never liked the fact you had a job in the first place. Maybe you should stop trying to get a normal job, love."

"But, mum, it's normal for people my age to have a job. Do you not want me to save money for college?"

"It's fine Wilbur. Your father and I will take care of that."

"Mum, you know good and well that you and dad are already struggling keeping a roof over our heads. Now-"

"Wilbur! How dare you speak to me that way! There's no reason you should be worrying about me and your father's financial issues. Now, go back to playing your guitar and don't worry about any of this okay?" She walked out of my room, closing the door.

All I could do is sigh. It always seemed like my parents never wanted me to have a "normal office job". It was either "doctor!" or "if you keep practicing your guitar, you'll become something big!" And I mean, it's not like I didn't like the faith they put in me. I loved it. I just seemed like they "didn't want me to get my hands dirty". 

Even though we were struggling to keep the light on, they always looked down on people who did "normal jobs". They never would like Alex. He took pride working for his parents and making the best damn tea I ever drank.

I looked to my bedroom window. Seems like a good time to get some good hot cocoa. And I know the perfect person to ask.

I opened my window, swiftly going outside. How I love having my bedroom on the first floor. The walk was long, but worth it.

As soon as I opened the door, I was hit with a familiar scent and... burning?

Quackity came out of the kitchen, cursing as smoke billowed. Then he realized I was there.

"Oh, shoot, hey cariño, what's up?" He huffed, trying to act like he didn't run out of the kitchen, screaming.

"Quackity, what's burning?" I walked up to the cashier's counter.

"Muffins. My parents want to add muffins to the menu. They said they'd be just like making cupcakes but they're almost nothing like them. At all."

Funnily enough, Alex was hella good at baking. Actually, anything to do with cooking, he was good at. But... he was horrible at making any recipe for the first time.

"Well, maybe I can help? My mum taught be how to make killer banana muffins."

He snickered. "Sure Cariño. Aren't you supposed to be at work? It's 4 pm."

I rubbed my neck. "Yeah, about that.."

"Again? Are you just a bad employee or do you have bad luck?" He opened the side door, letting me into the kitchen.

"Probably the latter."

"How about you start working here? My parents love you, and you know how to make muffins."

I snorted, heading to the messed up batter on the kitchen counter. "You think my mum would like that? She hated every job I ever picked up. Last time, it was a office job. You think she'll like me being a barista? Doubt it."

"C'mon Wilbur. Show me how to make these muffins."

I smiled, grabbing some ingredients and a fresh bowl.

"Okay then Big Q, watch carefully. I'll only do this once."

. . .

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