Down In History- K. Smith

Cardboard doesn't taste that bad, right?

Your luck was impeccable. At least, that's what you believed. Whether it came to last minute studying for a test you somehow did great on, or just about not slipping on the last step of wet stairs, luck always seemed to be on your side.

Not in this case though.

Maybe you'd think that luck was with you if you were anyone else, but you're you. And this time, you felt that luck was just making fun of you. Why, you ask? Maybe it could be because it was raining outside? Or maybe it was because you had a freezing 'Rising to the Top' A-list Idol sitting right in front of you, mumbling curses under his breath about god knows what while he sipped lukewarm, mediocre hot chocolate.

Hmm, ya, definitely the rain.

Not.

Now, you may be wondering, (Y/N), how'd you get into this oh so perfect situation? A situation that, mind you, any person would dream of being in. A situation that you just couldn't even grasp the idea of. Well, let's recall the earlier events shall we?

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There you were, fending off a ferocious dragon the size of seven mountains, slicing your sword through the wind, deflecting the dragon's attacks- ah who were you kidding, you were just at your job. Your painful, low-wage job that you had to work the last shift on because of your damned lecture timetable (which for some reason had to be mainly based throughout the morning). You let out a dreary sigh, pausing your constant fidgeting with the ball point pen that was placed in your hand. You glanced up at the clock that hung just above the jukebox that was playing quiet 80s music. 11:25. Just half an hour more and you'd be out of the damned restaurant.

Honestly, it wasn't the worst restaurant. It looked like your average 80s themed diner, and was actually pretty cute. No, the diner itself wasn't the problem. It was the owner that was the problem. God, even thinking about him made your blood boil.

Opting to not get into a frustrated mood, you took in the diner, focusing on the way the bright ceiling lights reflected on the shiny leather seats. The large windows allowed the perfect view of the outside world, though it didn't look appealing at that moment due to the rain hitting the glass like bullets, almost as though it were threatening to break the glass and soak anyone in the diner. That wasn't a big worry though, seeing as the last customer left at least 15 minutes ago.

The guy was a regular at the diner, always coming in late due to his job. Well, one of them. Dude would ramble so much about everything, you're pretty sure you knew his whole life story, which was really ironic seeing as you didn't even know his name. You just called him the '99 cent knock-off version of Elvis Presley.' He was the type of guy that loved jumping onto new trends, and getting filled in with, you quote, 'all the piping hot tea' (his words, not yours). He had forced you to put up the volume of the TV, the channel it was on displaying some current news regarding some new Idols that we're becoming big shots in what seemed like seconds. It seemed as though Presley had started becoming really obsessed with these guys, seeing as he wouldn't stop rambling on about them and how great of a manager he'd be for them. That he could make them see and do things never done before, blissfully unaware that what he was saying was happening to them right now. The way he'd fan girl over them reminded you of your friends, though, so you humoured him and let him go on.

Thinking about it had made a small smile appear on your lips, feeling calmer than you had been. The peacefulness, however, was interrupted by a sudden slamming. You jumped in your seat and quickly looked over to the entrance of the diner, taking in a drenched hooded figure who was still holding the door open, his head casted downwards. He closed the door in an aggressive way, and made his way towards one of the back booths, not caring about the fact that he was leaving the floor covered with muddy prints and water droplets. You sat there, eyebrows furrowed and frozen in shock.