Requested by meeeeee
Genre - fluff
Timeline - Mid 70's
WARNING FROM THE FUTURE ⚠️
This is old and dog shit but someone asked for it to be put back
✯
"Shit, guys— we're gonna be late! Just hop in... it won't hurt to speed a little," a low voice muttered to his crew. "Drew, man, we have no deadline to get there! We are doing this at our own free will," Liam chuckled to his distressed peer. "This is supposed to be a work bonding thing, right?"
It was a quarter to eight, around half an hour past when Drew would've liked them to get going. The day shift construction worker crew had decided to take the evening as a team, as a new member had joined. They had planned to stop by the Rosé Diner located in the heart of their town, followed by a dusk stroll down to the lake.
The crew had at last finished their final shift and were buckling into the fine leather seats of Drew's car; a bronze Cadillac Coupe De Ville. Drew remained the driver, with Liam up front to keep him company and control the radio. Henry, Jake, and Sean occupied the middle row, shriek-laughing at something irrelevant and screaming song lyrics. In the farthest row of the vehicle, Eric and Luke sat in an awkward silence. Luke was new to the team, so this wasn't surprising; though they both seemed to get along better with the rest of the group.
Eric was not usually the type to keep to himself, if you asked just about anyone, they'd say, "maybe in some alternate universe, but that man never shuts the hell up." Every few minutes conversation would be initiated by either person, but would always result back in the same unpleasant and empty void. Luke felt a pang of slight jealousy hearing his peers laugh so easily with each other. Continuing to play with the loose hems at his flannel, the feeling of the moving vehicle slowly came to a halt before Drew pulled the knob back into park.
Henry, who was relieved to finally exit the automobile, quickly got out and drew back the seat to let out Luke and Eric. The group laughed through the parking lot and past the doors, reminiscing about strange occurrences during their shifts. Eventually settling down at a dark crimson booth, the crew quickly skimmed through the menus in hopes of getting to explore the old jukebox faster.
The jukebox in question was an antique, carved with a unique pattern in the attractive wood. It certainly drew the attention of many, and it quickly became the sole reason of this diner's popularity. But, as exquisite as the beauty of this machine was, it's alluring sight wasn't the only reason people were obsessed. It's creator, James E. Rosé, always emphasized how his creation worked wonders. In the presence of the melody maker, a special pair who might've never even thought to interact, get a spark. A spark so strong there would be no denying it.
Of course though, this was just a myth, as it was just some crazy guy from 1924 trying to get his product to sell. "Props to James— I guess," Luke thought to himself. "Good for him, his scam actually sold."
One by one, the table they occupied began to empty, leaving only Luke with his thoughts. As much as he got along with his new co-workers, they probably still considered him an 'acquaintance'. A sliver of sorrow seemed to tug at his throat watching everybody else appear to have a place. He didn't exactly think of himself as an outsider, but having just moved to America less than a year ago didn't help his case. Luke started to get a queasy feeling in his abdomen, but not from hunger. By now he was used to the presentment squeeze of anxiety gnawing at him.
Wanting to ease himself, Luke dug around in his pocket for loose change while waking towards the wooden antique. His fingers grazed over a button from a worn down jacket, a paper clip from his rent mail, and what felt like a candy wrapper. Sighing to himself, he faced the jukebox and just scrolled through the song options, hoping for one to miraculously play.
