Fatty Le Tuna

It wasn’t that you hated Ajax ( okay, maybe you did a little ); he was a fun way to wind down in-between classes sometimes at university because of his loud personality. And, he was attractive to stand next to, you’ll give him that in addition to being a very understanding friend. But seeing him in the workplace is quite possibly the last thing you could ever want to ask for.

What made matters even worse was during your desperate job search last month, when you got a recruitment offer at the place he worked at. You thought it’d be some small thing like where generic college students worked, not some big multi-million firm in this massive building with workers walking around in suits and pencil skirts galore. And of course, when you met with the mean recruiting lady named Rosalyne for your interview, it was impossible not to spot Ajax at the corner of your eyes with a goofy smile on his face.

And when Ms. Rosalyne went back to scold him after your interview, it was more than obvious you were only here because he pushed your application.

How embarrassing.

“You can try again!” he said to you in good spirits in the university courtyard one week after. The two of you were sitting together as the sun was setting on campus, having both finished all your classes for the day. “They’re opening another clerical position soon since our current one is leaving, apply then!” And to you, he was acting all completely normal in his normal young-adult way, meanwhile you were trying to erase the image of him in a suit from your head.

You sighed, “I don’t think the high-class life of business is for me yet, Ajax.”

The roll of your eyes caused him to visibly deflate. Just how obsessed was he with the idea of you getting hired? “But I want you to work with you so baddd…!” he groaned, dramatically shoving his hands onto his face.Then he leaned back forward, slumping until his forehead came down to rest on your shoulder. Such an attention-grabbing act of depression—you almost came to entertain the idea, too.

“I don’t even have office clothes,” you scoffed, bumping him off your shoulder.

He yelped from the force of your push for a moment before he grabbed your arm, pulling it so harshly with such a force that had you clashing right onto his chest ( Yeah, friends, or something like that ). And even as you began to punch on his chest in protest, he just hugged you tight and whined, “I can buy you some! You’ll fit right in—and I get to see you every day at school and at work!”

Seeing him every day sounded like hell, you were so sure this man was insane.

“You are not buying me office clothes!” you denied, still trying to push yourself away.

“I can totally afford it, though!” he pouted. After he relaxed his grip around your body, you still found it too tough to escape his weird embrace. That’s your karma for being friends with the guy who goes to the gym in-between classes, you suppose. And after more struggling to set yourself free, you eventually gave up as the sunset reduced to silence.

That was when he squeezed you tight once more for a last makeshift hug, then planted an ambiguously-friendly kiss on your cheek as he said, “Let’s go get dinner now? I’ll drive.”

“Yeah, sure. Can we get chicken nuggets?”

He lifted both of your bodies up to your feet, watching as you collected your things off the seat before he led you by the hand to his car. “Pff, you always want nuggets,” he teased. “But yeah, I’m down—there’s a McDonald’s right next to my work, let’s go there while I try to convince you to apply at my job!”

And now you work at said McDonald’s.

You didn’t tell him, of course. Only that you “finally got a job,” so that he could finally stop trying to get you hired at his stuffy building space.

It was pretty busy in the morning when people in office attire would come in for a quick, cheap coffee. Lunch and dinner time was also busy as expected—it was one of the things that made you happy to be a cashier and not one of the cooks or drive-through people.

And the best part about this was that you never saw the uptight Ms. Recruiter Rosalyne here, nor Ajax himself. You knew for a fact that Ajax only went to McDonald’s when it was with you, as he preferred other fast foods, so even if his work was just right there, you really didn’t have to worry about accidentally seeing him. If you did… Well, that would probably be really embarrassing, wouldn’t it?

It was one o’clock in the afternoon, lunch rush.

People were rude, your coworkers were irritable, customers were in a rush—horrible, really, but also a normal day for you. Just smile and put on that customer service voice and it will soon be over. Plus, you got free chicken nuggets for your own lunch break before this.

It was not until you felt your phone vibrate in the pocket of your jeans. Well. It was not that common to get a text like that. Your family should know you’re at work; your friends, too. Just one peak—only one, just while the customer in front of you is still holding up the line while he decides what to order. Propping your phone up behind the register, you open it to check your lockscreen.

orange fuckwad: heyyy you want some mcds nuggets?!?!? ;)

Holy shit. Absolutely not.

“Can I order the uhhh…” Oh good lord you have to turn off your phone now. “Can I order the uhhh McLobster?”

“Sorry sir, the McLobster was discontinued five years ago.” You were about to blow your brains out.

“No I swear I just ordered it last week?”

Your eyes kept shifting to the door. And there, finally, in all his glory making your heart absolutely drop in fear, was Ajax coming through the door. And for you, too—to buy you a box of chicken nuggets. In any other case, you’d find it endearing ( and it still was! ) but in this instance you really wanted to die right now.

The customer suddenly raised an eyebrow at you when you shifted your body to the side, trying to use his body as a shield from the eyes of your friend. There was a second cashier next to you—hopefully Ajax will line up on their line instead of yours. And hopefully, you could use this crusty McDonald’s hat to hide your face.

“Hey!” your coworker suddenly called out to you. You looked towards their empty cashier line with a glimmer of hope for good news. “I’m going on my lunch!” Your face dropped. “I’ll see you in 30, yeah?”

No! Not yeah! But you couldn’t do anything but plead with your facial expression as they left to the backroom, leaving Ajax with no choice but to join your line. If you could blow up this whole building right now, God, you would.

Five customers until him, four customers until him, three, two, one—

“Woah!” The surprise on his face felt insulting. Actually, you still used the hat to hide your face as best as you could. It was failing at hiding your identity from him as expected, but at least it helped you obscure the view of his… physique. Him, with his… um, his black slacks and white collared shirt that was just a little too tight on him, and his grey blazer that was thrown over his shoulder. One button at the top unfastened, almost as if he loosened it just to breathe during his lunch break.

And his hair, if you didn’t want to meet his eyes then you were honestly staring there. Whose hair was usually messy and tousled, now slicked perfectly for once with gel, all in a proper yet still very Ajax-way. The sides were in place, meanwhile strands over his eyes and at the top of his hair remained loose in that messy way that still characterized him. God, you might just die from embarrassment and awkwardness right now.

“This is where you work?” he asked, incredulously.

“Good afternoon, sir. What can I get for you today?” you smiled. Please, please just go with it.

He looked surprised at your voice, especially since it was so fabricated and one he had not heard before. You just hoped he wouldn’t be a dumb prick to you today, just this once. “Oh, um…” Please, please. “One ten-piece chicken nugget, please.” Thank God.

“Would you like a drink with that?”

“Yes, one large soda, if that’s okay?”

“Will that be all?”

“Uh.” He looked confused. You just stared at him. “Yeah… Yeah, I think so.”

Then he swiped his card, you directed him to the side, and he left the line. With a lingering gaze, of course. He looked like a lost ( and maybe even a little hurt ) puppy after his order, and as much as this made you feel sad for him, you were just glad to get through with him as a customer without any complications. He’ll definitely be bothering you after this, anyways.

He pretty much watched you the entire time he waited for his food, eyeing you with a look of concern that did not belong on his usual expression. But you ignored him for your own betterment—you’d really just rather get through this rush hour of customers. And when his order number was finally called, he held the small bag with nuggets and his large soda with confusion. Oh, right. That food was probably bought for you.

You sent him a look and a head tilt that notioned ‘Just eat it’, and surprisingly, he got it. Ajax, with his pristine proper suit and blazer over his shoulder, sat down at a dirty barstool and ate his ten-piece chicken nuggets. He was still watching you, though; he glanced at you every few seconds while he was chewing. Minutes that felt so long passed, and you just hoped his lunch break would end soon so he could get back to his building.

“Hello again!” You almost jumped in place when you found him in front of you again, having finished his nuggets.

“Ajax,” you grumbled, trying to speak quietly. There was another customer coming to line up behind him. “I can’t talk during my shift.”

“Oh!” He looked at you in innocent surprise for a second, definitely not as depressed as earlier. “No, I was just gonna order.”

You wanted to die. “Didn’t you already…” Clearing your throat, you remembered there was another customer lined up behind him. Thank heavens the lunch rush was over already. Time to put on the customer service voice for him again. “What can I get for you?”

“A box of ten-piece chicken nuggets, please!” he smiled. “And a large soda!”

If you didn’t feel like killing him before, well you certainly did now. And guess what, he ate this order, too! Was he doing this out of spite now? Ordering nuggets and then eating them right in front of you? Because honestly, it was making you less hungry and more confused, if anything. This was definitely not what you expected—but then again, you fully anticipated he’d hold up the line just to talk to you. But no, suddenly he was a McDonald’s nugget fan?

The moment you get out of here, you’re going to twist his ear. Time passes again where you purposely avoid his gaze. So, so much time. Either his lunch break was just incredibly long, or time was just going so slow because he was here. You bet it was the latter.

And then, once again, you find him at the front of your line.

“Hello!” he smiled. He looks happy just to see you. “Can I get a ten-piece box of chicken nuggets?”

“And a large soda with that?” you asked, almost with a sigh.

He looks uneasy, standing to the tips of his toes for a moment. “No,” he drags out with hesitance. “Side of large fries, actually.”

Ooo, how different! It’s the most entertainment you could wish for in a day. And when you shoo him to the side this time, he has the biggest smile on his face. How unusual—in this situation, at least. Then when his order comes, he actually turns to leave this time. He walked to the glass doors with an innocent grin and a large McDonald’s bag in his hand, happily waving to you goodbye. Finally.

“You never told me you work at the McDonald’s right by me!”

He was there waiting for you when you walked out of your shift, packed up, ready to go home, and definitely smelling like grease. “Well aren’t you out early…” you sighed at him. “It’s only three in the afternoon.”

“I asked if I could leave so I could come see you sooner,” he frowned. Endearing, once again. And your heart may have skipped just a bit when he lifted up the last brown bag he bought. “I saved these for you. They’re not warm anymore but there’s fries, a soda, and fifteen nuggets… I, uh, couldn’t finish the second order.”

You nearly laughed out. “Why in the world did you order so much anyways?”

“So I could see you again,” he pouted.

He was still wearing his office attire, top button unfastened once again and blazer under his arm once you took the fast food bad again. You might’ve just had nuggets during your lunch break, and this food may be cold and soggy by now, but the thought of him buying it for you made it the best meal in the world. And, it was also the fact he left his own shift early just to see you. He could be nice at times; so nice, it almost comforted the fact he made you want to die earlier.

“You embarrassed me,” you tiredly sighed. The both of you were walking together to his car—how he knew you were dropped off here was beyond you.

“Sorry!” he sheepishly smiled. “I really didn’t think I’d see you there…” Which was understandable, sure, but did he really have to order that many McNuggets just to see you at the cashier stand? “But now that I know you work right next to me…”

“Ajax, no.”

“Oh come on!” He pouted with a considerably loud whine while the both of you crossed the street to his building. You figured he was likely parked behind it, wherever the employee parking was. It still felt a little weird to be in your McDonald’s uniform walking next to a big business building. “I get to see you every lunch break—doesn’t that sound so fun?”

“No not really.”

He groaned even louder again, slumping his shoulders as if he was not dressed like he was going to an office party right now. But then, in some sort of comforting silence, he aligned his arm over your shoulders. It was cute, honestly—how he would still do this despite the fact you smelled like pure grease right now ( and the fact you were trying to ignore the feeling of his arm muscles that were practically bursting through his sleeves ).

He eyed you a few times during this silent walk, watching as you stuffed your face with nuggets and fries. Holy God this tasted so good for some reason…?! You totally deserved this after your shift of rude customers and embarrassing moments—then your good friend Ajax brings you nuggets and fries right after. How romantic.

And speaking of your ‘friend’, he pulled you closer against him, arm practically swallowing your entire being over your shoulders. Not that you were complaining, though; you found his weird obsession with being near you all the time just a little bit cute. And besides, he drove you places, and he bought you chicken nuggets.

Who could not love a man that buys you chicken nuggets?

“You are staring.”

“Actually, Lynette, I am glaring,” Lyney corrects, eyes forming into slits as he shoots laser beams at the Fontainian man chuckling at you with his piercing stare. “But I appreciate you pointing my flagrancy out. I shall do my best to conceal it.”

It’s a massive lie. Both of them are completely aware of this.

Lyney is beyond keeping his temper in check. When it comes to you and the infuriatingly excessive amount of attention you seem to garner, he can never seem to control himself, which is ironic, given that he’s the one supposed to be able to lure people into the palm of his hand to play with them like a puppeteer does with his strings.

With you, though, it always feels like he’s the one being pulled at.

“May I be honest with you?” Lynette inquires, dragging him out of his thoughts with the dulcet tone of her voice. His younger sister places a half-eaten Conch Madeleine onto her plate before pushing it towards the center of the table.

“Of course,” he indulges, his dainty gloved fingers picking up the remaining dessert to plop into his mouth.

Lynette takes a deep sigh before crossing her legs. “I plead with you not to take offense to my words,” she says, giving him all the more reason to suspect the nature of her concern. “But lately, you have been quite immature. Don’t you think you should be wiser with how you act before someone else catches on?”

An eyebrow is raised, but it carries no trace of malice, only curiosity. Lyney swallows his food. “Are you calling me careless?”

“If you take it that way, then yes. But if you don’t, then that is not how I intended for it to come out as.”

“I see.”

Lyney mulls over her words, contemplating, before his eyes flit back to your station, where the same man he glared daggers at earlier lingers by your side even until now. Why is he still there? he thinks bitterly to himself, eyebrows furrowing in vexation.

There must be an ulterior motive laced in the man’s actions, no? Surely, Fonta is not that pleasing to the tastebuds for one to come back requesting for the drink this many times. The only plausible reason the individual remains glued to your side must reside in the fact that he wishes to develop a relationship with you, one that transcends platonic connection.

How aggravating.

Bastard, he thinks, seething, a gloved hand curling into a tight fist.

Lynette clicks her tongue in disapproval and chides: “You’re doing it again!” And Archons, his sister might actually be right. But how does she expect him to temper himself? It seemed impossible.

Damn bastard. Damn him for thinking he can woo you.

While the prospect of having you snatched away from him by some nobody in Fontaine seemed little to none, he’d rather not risk falling victim to being an exception to fate’s cruelty. A microscopic chance is still a viable chance, after all.

Damn bastard.

Lyney reaches the tail end of his iota of self-restraint when he sees the man try to reach over and pat you on the shoulder. Sparse impulsivity ignites within him and rampages at full force. “Excuse me!” He shouts, raising an arm, remaining blissfully ignorant towards the horrified look plastered all over his sister’s face. “May I request to view a menu?”

“Yes, of course!” you answer from afar, feigning a smile as you bow down to the bastard before excusing yourself. The exasperated roll of your eyes does not go unnoticed by Lyney, neither does the irate expression gracing your face — but instead of discouraging him, it only encourages him even more.

Perhaps, it is masochism; you are always so cruel to him, but he adores you all the same.

You slam the menu on the table, sending Lynette a curt nod before redirecting your attention to deal with her child of an older brother. “Lyney,” you greet, though it feels like everything but a warm welcome. “Don’t you have a magic show to practice for? Or, you know, something else to do besides loitering around my workplace for three hours?”

Ah. It definitely isn’t a warm welcome.

“My sweetheart!” He greets exuberantly, elbows propped on the table as he rests his chin on the palm of his hands to present himself like a flower. Like a gift, even though he is everything but one to you at this moment. “Oh, how I have longed for this. Prose does not do you justice, mon amour. I could go on—”

“Lyney!”

His eyes widen a fraction at your scolding tone. He sits up, gasps, and ever the dramatic, places a hand over his chest as if your words had stricken him. “My dear! Must you be so harsh towards me?” He tips his hat to wipe a tear that isn’t even there. “You hurt me, have you always been this cruel? We used to love one another…”

Lynette glances at her spectacle of a brother, who keeps up his dramatic displays even inside a crowded restaurant. Fed up, she shakes her head before excusing herself — escaping, actually — and leaving you two alone. She loves her brother, truly, more than anyone else in Teyvat. But it isn't unconditional enough for her to witness his theatrics to gain your attention.

“You scared her off,” you point out, eyeing her departing form.

“She is a traitor,” he huffs, folding his arms against his chest before his pout breaks into a smile. “Sit down, my love. I have missed you dearly.”

“I’m sure you have,” you mutter sarcastically, taking a seat despite your shift being a mere ten minutes away from finally finishing. The rest is well deserved, though, you think, especially when it’s your disaster of a boyfriend who instigates the need for it.

“I have! To the point of anguish! To the point of distraught,” he exaggerates. But knowing him, it might just be the truth.

He is troublesome, really, a total fissure in your composure…

“I cannot live without—”

…but you don’t think you could ever find it in yourself to love him less just because of it. Perhaps that’s why you interrupt him to tell him through a relenting tone that you’ve missed him, too. Perhaps that’s why you let him tuck a strand of hair behind your ear only to pull back with a rainbow rose in hand — presented and gifted only to you.

“You should do something about that customer of yours,” Lyney complains, voice nearing a whine when he catches a glimpse of the man staring at you from w distance once again. “He is evidently troublesome.”

“He’s also a customer,” you reason, drawing hearts on the back of his hand with a gentle finger. “I can’t do much about him.”

“Well, I can,” Lyney mutters sullenly under his breath.

“Then do something about it,” you tease.

And Archons.

A pause occurs, elapsing ten seconds as his brain tries to grapple around what you said right before it short circuits into chaotic disorder. Lyney outright groans once he registers the invite of mischief — so playful yet so calculated. He knows wholeheartedly what you’re trying to convey; the flirtatious undertone laced in those five words does not go over his head.

Show him then, is what you mean but do not verbalize.

Show him that I’m yours.

Here you go again, playing with him like a puppet on a string. But who is he to say no to being controlled when it’s you who keeps him wrapped around your finger?

Lyney casts a sidelong glance at the man, just to make sure he’s still looking. Once he’s gotten the confirmation, he reaches his hand up to rest in your hair, fingertips buzzing with anticipation. “I must put my all into this performance then, since you’re giving me such a grand opportunity,” he intones, pulling you in closer until his lips meet your lips and he’s kissing you fervently.

There are very little things Lyney doesn’t put the entirety of his passion into, like shuffling a deck of cards or conjuring doves from the inside of his hat. But when it comes to performances, he’s swimming in his ardor — and when it comes to you, he’s drowning in it. He makes a spectacle of you two, kisses you like a starved man, and soon tilts your head to the side for easier access.

At first, he hated you for this, he hated that you always looked on the bright side, hated that you could be so blissfully unaware yet ever-so alluring and enchanting in his eyes--something that once Wanderer had he could never let go, no matter how much he despised it. He hates you, but is that how he really feels, or is it the trauma of his past blinding him from the true wisdom of love and beauty you held under your surface? It was short-sighted of him, to reject you so instantaneously, yet no matter how cold and cruel he was--you had seen right past him as if he were glass.

No, you were different, not yet subjected to that reality and living in blissful ignorance, going as far as to fall in love with him--a puppet designed to be nothing more than a prototype. You reminded Wanderer of him, the persona of Kunikuzushi, a bright-eyed boy travelling Inazuma. You and Kunikuzushi would have gotten along well, he thinks, both so wonderfully living in a gentle dream where the sun always shone brightly. Wanderer tries to forget, but he still remembers that sensation, something that bubbled in clear waters and reflected colour and light, so soft and airy that it felt nearly suffocating at times. That feeling only grew stronger the longer he knew you, traces of even a smile on Wanderer's lips when navy eyes met yours.

He's smitten, fallen and can't shake you off his mind. It's scary, so long since Wanderer's felt this way. He wants to prove his use to you, to know that he's no longer the sensitive boy that was Kunikuzushi, but Wanderer--a blank slate that's carried the memories of many and uses them to become whoever Teyvat needs him to be. And to the Wanderer, he's your omnipotent god but also, your protector.

You're the only one he trusts, but you seem so willing to give it to others like it's nothing. Trust is foreign and such a beautifully fragile thing to Wanderer, and he's not scared to put any lowly human in place if they decide to take advantage of your ever-lasting kindness.

It's almost humorous, the Wanderer prides himself on being the near equivalent of a celestial being yet practically worshipping the ground you walk on, never taking every second of love and care you offer him for granted. He can instantly call someone out if they're being dishonest, the Wanderer protectively drawing himself nearer to you as he watches your eyes sparkle or saddens with empathy listening to a fool's tale.

He can see the person's facade crack under the pressure of Wanderer's harsh glare, he's already mastered the art and then some. Before you can open your mouth to happily agree to whatever master plan is brewing in their mind, Wanderer's already begun speaking with that bored and sarcastic tone like he's silently telling the individual that he's wasting his precious time with you.

Wanderer's almost grinning by the end of it, flawlessly breaking down every lie until the jig was up--watching them try to double-down before finally accepting utter defeat. When he turns to look at you, his smile falters slightly seeing your expression mixed with surprise but also... empathy, even still that this person was attempting to toy with your feelings.

"Why do you look so upset? He was just trying to swindle your mora."

"There must be a reason why... maybe he's in a tough spot right now and this was the only way he could get mora!" is what you say, he quirks an eyebrow before sighing, shooing his hand dismissively at you.

"Fine, if you want to give him some, but don't say I didn't warn you."

A small part of him feels his heart flutter when he sees your eyes light up at him in awe, letting you fish out a small bag of mora and greeting the now dejected man. Wanderer's eyeing you two intensely, carefully watching the swindler's face for any signs of malice... but he doesn't see it this time, genuine tears forming glossy in that man's eyes before bowing and thanking you profusely. Wanderer couldn't make out the exact words you exchanged, but he could tell at least that the person was acting truthfully now.

You sent off the man with a smile before turning your head to Wanderer, smiling cheekily at him that made his eyes widen and heart skips a beat--it's that feeling again. He scoffs, ushering you to keep up with him as he's already setting off again. That smile you always carry when you're with him is intoxicating, contagious enough that unexpectedly, Wanderer finds himself smiling with you, too, not something faked to gain something, it's real.

Perhaps, maybe he could get used to this feeling from long ago once more, with you.