Herbs and Spices // snowbaz

record shop (au) - part 1

Spring had officially sprung, it's warm life breathing life back into the grass that had withered in front of the record shop. Flowers were in their foetal position, ready to bloom at a moments notice, and Baz sighed happily from behind the counter.

He loved the record shop, had loved it for the past 3 years he had worked there, and even before he had begun working there he had loved the shop, loved spending his time there, constantly darkening the door until the owner had broken down and said "For Christs sake Baz, if you're constantly going to be there you may as well be useful, so you start working here tomorrow." And from that moment onward, he had never looked back. He loved working somewhere that contributed so heavily to something he loved, being surrounded by music which endlessly inspired him and made his heart swell. He loved knowing all the regulars and getting into arguments about the validity of modern punk, and the importance of classical music in the contemporary world.

He loved the blonde boy that was in the record shop every day, flipping through all the vinyl and CDs, and making full use of the inbuilt stereo and headphone systems that enabled customers to listen to any music they wanted. They hadn't talked beside their polite conversation over the counter when the blonde boy would buy music, or when he asked for recommendations for new music - but besides that, they hadn't talked, despite how much Baz wanted them too. (Even though Baz knew the blonde boy was straight, he sometimes would come in with a dark haired Indian girl who seemed just as passionate about music as the boy did.)

Baz didn't mind the lack of talking between them, he simply looked forward to the moment every day when the blonde boy would walk through the door, his golden curls illuminated by the sun behind him, a fire radiating off his hair and his bronzed skin that Baz could almost feel warming him up. He loved that moment and wished every day away waiting for it.

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Simon loved the record shop. He loved the warm walk that he had to take to get there from the train station, he loved the way the store was hidden away slightly, making him feel like he was in on a secret every time he entered it, like it was hidden to everyone but him and those who were worthy of it.

He loved the endless amounts of music that could be found there, and the hours he could spend there stretching out in front of him like a winding ribbon; endless.

But mostly, Simon loved watching the dark haired boy who worked there. He was a quiet worker, except Simon had heard him talk about music very passionately with customers, his voice rising and falling in beautiful crests of passion. Simon hadn't talked much to the boy, but today he was going to put himself out there and express his feelings for him. It could backfire possibly, he thought, he didn't know if the boy was even interested in boys, but he figured he had nothing to lose (except the safety and security he felt every day he spent in the record shop.)

Simon walked into the record shop, his plan burning a hole in his stomach as he felt the anxious static he was all too familiar with crawl up his throat, and he tried to tie it into a knot to push back down his stomach but felt it burning hot behind his eyes. Deep breath in, he thought, and out. What's the worse that could happen?

*************

Baz was on his break, sitting in the backroom, his nose stuck firmly in a textbook he had to read for one of his classes. All too soon his break was over and he had to go back to the front of the shop, standing behind the counter.

Baz walked back out to the front and stopped short when he saw something sitting on the counter. He looked around to see who it belonged to, but the shop was empty, not even his boss was there, having just left before Baz had finished his break.

His hands outstretched slowly to grasp the tiny package sitting on next to the cash register, and he turned the mixtape and note over in his hands, confusion lacing through his body. He worked to unfold the note and scanned it, barely believing what he wrote.

Uhhh hi, I don't know if this is super fucking weird, but I come in here all the time and I think you're really cute and want to go out on a date with you.
If you don't vibe that, that's all good, but I'll be back tomorrow, and if you want to go on a date with me, just be playing the mixtape tomorrow and I'll come and introduce myself - if not, don't play it and I'll be out of there so fucking quick because this is embarrassing.
Anyway, I'm the ridiculously curly haired blonde guy - I'll see you tomorrow.

Baz read it once, twice, three times before it sunk in properly. He had been asked out. In the most romantic way he could ever have conceived, a mixtape! That was the dream! It took everything in him to stop himself from doing a little dance around the record shop, even though no one was there to see him, he knew he had more dignity than that.

He scanned the song list that was written on the paper in the mixtape case and felt his smile growing; this boy had excellent taste, the same taste in music that Baz did.
Baz suddenly knew what he'd be listening to tomorrow in the shop.

********************

Simon felt like ripping his hair out. He couldn't believe he had left that fucking mixtape on the counter, leaving it there and asking someone out in the most embarrassing way possible. And what kind of an idiot asks someone out in such a way so they won't know their answer until the next day? He was the kind of idiot that did that.

All night long he tossed and turned, every possible scenario running through his head as he lay trying to go to sleep, until finally, he had tired himself out so much he fell into a fitful rest, having dreams about the dark haired boy laughing in his face and telling all his co-workers about the embarrassing boy who asked him out via mixtape and note.

The next day, he was stood in front of the record shop, willing himself to walk through the door, but also never wanting to do anything less. He wanted to run far away but also wanted to know what the dark haired boy's answer would be. He paced in front of the store for so long until he finally took a deep breath in and walked in, the door hitting the bell as he opened it, alerting the dark haired boy of his presence.

As soon as he walked in he heard a song playing in the shop; one on the mixtape he had made. A 1000 watt smile burst onto his face and started to devour the darkly lit corners of the shop, as he made his way to the counter, taking tentative steps until he was stood in front of the dark-haired boy, who still hadn't noticed him.

"Hi welcome to-" The dark haired boy began until he looked up and made eye contact with Simon, and he began to smile shyly, a blush rising to his cheeks.

"Hi, I'm Simon, and I'm a massive nerd who made a mixtape for you," Simon said, sticking out his hand between them, his grin still huge on his face.

"I'm Baz, and I loved the mixtape."

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This was meant to be uploaded wayyyyy earlier but I just couldn't find the time to finish it - so I've split it into two parts so I feel good publishing something :)

Anyway, thank you for reading and please tell me if you liked it or whatever and vote and comment and all that stuff! Part 2 will probably be published real soon