Starts from Art's perspective. I will be changing perspectives here and there. I'm publishing these first chaps kinda fast rn since I've been writing this for a while, but I am really a slow writer. The stuff comes in spurts, really. Also this chap should be p funny... I laughed at least.


I woke up at 5:00 this morning. I got up at the third alarm and took a shower. I sort of brushed my teeth while I dried my hair. I was very hungry because I fell asleep without eating dinner the previous night. I rushed to the kitchen in my towel and started breakfast. I felt light-headed so I gulped down a few cups of water before setting the pan on low and running to my room to dress. I took my bag into the kitchen, turned off the pan, and proceeded to pack my breakfast and my lunch. It was still cold outside when I locked the door and started walking to the bus stop. The bus was packed when I got on and I stood next to a guy who smelled terribly of booze. He almost knocked me over when the bus turned. I had to show him the support bar. By the time I got to the school building, I was ten minutes early and 520 $ away from a car of my own. I count everyday. Arrive at work on time and it's added.

I sat down at my desk and barely situated myself before Dre Clementine (or something of that variation) approached me on schedule and started making conversation with me over something. It was always "Hi, how are you? Good day so far?" What does he think happens between bed and work that is even worth mentioning, not to mention "good"? He was talking about some sports game he watched on the telly (something about a world cup?) and I smiled and nodded along but I didn't actually relate but that probably didn't matter since he was deep into his story and probably having a better time doing so than I would ever have listening. Once he finished he asked for my two cents on life and we made small-talk for a few minutes before May Souders (a lit teacher) walked past and threw a scowl at Clementine. He really should be doing something more productive. He was always talking about something and it had become apparent that she wasn't the talkative type. Needless to say, they didn't get along.


I had been hacking away at my work for hours when I decided I needed to pee. I didn't waste my time, dropping what was in front of me to head to the bathroom. When I peed I was halfway through relief when my phone rang. I almost dropped what I was doing when it happened, but I survived and finished my business in time to quiet the incessant ringing. "Hello, Art speaking."

"Art, bad time?" Oh it's her! Bethany was her name, and she was my brother's wife. We were very close, but it was always odd talking to her. Probably because the link between us, my brother, was gone.

"Bethany! " I put in effort to sound pleased. "Are you well?"


We had been conversing for a while before I realized I was on the phone in the bathroom on the clock. I heard someone coming so I rushed to conclude our conversation. By the time I hung up, the other bathroom-goer had left the stall. He was still washing his hands but I figured I'd risk being seen as the one having a bathroom conversation. To my surprise, it wasn't a teacher but someone who didn't work for the school -or... a student?


This guy across from me, Nice... I was trying to take in what he was saying, but it was difficult because he was criticizing me in an interesting way that left my mind busy and unable to respond. I got his point, but who crowned him a king with the right to judge others based on how open/honest they choose to be with others? Especially him in particular, who had been apparently analyzing me all day and making me uncomfortable in what I guessed were the most effective ways he could. Now I did have my intellectual and contemplative capacities, but did the topic have be to me having inappropriate relations with students or me doing a bad job connecting to students or anything involving criticizing me out of the blue? Didn't I have enough to think about already? The busy work of my job already burned me out, not to mention I was tight on money and trying to help a single mom make ends meet in the absence of my brother. Sure I wasn't being open. But Nice was also a questionable kid and I definitely didn't trust him. I might have also been guilty of simplifying my self talk in the interest of letting myself rest. Still, I wasn't like a lost, dark soul, taking up a teaching job while hiding my true intentions. Something told me he was fucking with me but a part of me also wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. In the end I had answered as though I thought he was full of shit. Maybe that's why he broke out the student-teacher communication gospel. I know I should probably be a better person before being a teacher, but nobody's perfect. So I figured I'd work it out as best as I could.

So why then did I need elitists like him barking up my ass like they had something grand to teach me? Well that kind of stuff happens to people like me who would naturally like to avoid such situations. Somehow naturally...

I suddenly felt like I had been silent for too long, I didn't want him to think that he shocked me with his profundity so I shook my head and said, "Listen, if you want to discuss these kinds of things with me, we can, but not now. Believe if or not, I've just had a long day so I probably won't have the right answers for you. And the questions you're asking involve self-reflection, maybe of the sort I haven't recently done..." I wasn't sure how to conclude such an answer.

I looked him in the face to see him looking back with one raised eyebrow and a hand on his hip.

"So you admit you haven't considered it." Nice dropped his hand from his hip and gave a little smile that admittedly ticked me off. "I accept that. So do you think you'll feel well enough to discuss this anytime soon?" This 'Nice' guy really wasn't nice at all.

"Why would I have to discuss anything with you?" I didn't try but I accidentally snapped at him.

"Hmm." He looked genuinely thoughtful, scratching unpleasantly at some odd bandages on his cheek. "I guess you're right. Sorry, Art."

"Please. Mr. Hatfield."

"Well, Mr. Hatfield, since this engagement may have unfortunately disturbed you, I will take my presence elsewhere. I wish you luck though, with your new job and all, and I hope your future students don't affect you the way that I did! Later!"

He left the pool area before I could say anything.


**Nice's cell phone rings, ringtone is Led Zeppelin**

"Hey."

"Nice, hi. I was just at the shop and I was wondering if you wanted to buy."

"Course." Yeah... that sounded right.

"Great. You can come over in 20."


I got to Murasaki's house 15 minutes later and let myself in. His place smelled smoky. Probably a mix of incense, weed, and... food? I ventured into the kitchen to find Murasaki eating at a crowded little table cluttered with old dishes and plastic cups.

"You look like you've been having fun," I grinned at him and took a seat. "Have any extra?" I gestured toward his plate.

"Sorry, I'm done now," He managed to reply through a large last bite.

"Really..." I sighed as I leaned back and looked away. " It was probably burned anyway."

He washed his dish. "It was a good scene last night. You should have come! I even invited you three weeks in advance."

"Sorry I got distracted last night. Hajime and I had been hanging out and by the time I realized your party was a thing we had started a movie marathon with popcorn and everything. I had a good time just like that!"

He had rolled his eyes halfway through my story and pretended to ignore me, but by the time I was finished talking he let out a sigh of exasperation as if he had been listening.

"You... don't even keep a calendar, do you?" I held his gaze and yawned in response.

"Can I get that stuff then?" I stood up. "I have 50 today."

"Sure you do."

"I'll get you ten later, but for now could I have the 60's worth?" I think I charmed him with my bright smile because despite his annoyance he reached into his bag and tossed me a baggy of the usual size. I stopped to pat him on the back as I headed towards the door.

"Thanks, Murasaki, you're not a bad guy most of the time."

"You're just buying and going? Do you actually plan on hanging out with me this summer?"

"Shh, I have to work at 6 so I just can't stay tonight. We'll do it real soon, kay? And then I'll let you meet my new friend, too!"

"Eh? I don't want to meet any more of your friends..."

Whatever, Murasaki. I swear he's just too tsundere to mean what he says.

I got high before work. That always made it more fun. I bussed tables at Mugi's Bar & Grill. It was boring as hell but it helped pay the bills.

The night was pretty slow... I cleared dishes and wiped tables, all the while overhearing the TVs above the bar divulge the day's news in refined increments. By the time the kitchen was closed I was still energetic thanks to my dead shift.

After clocking out, I realized how hungry I was, so I skipped changing and headed across the street thinking of the Chinese restaurant I frequented. When I reached the door I couldn't open it and with a glance at the time I remembered it was "11:17" meaning I was 17 minutes short of Chinese food. I could still see the chefs in there cleaning up, and I winced at the idea of their proximity to my empty stomach. Most of the places open nearby were pretty expensive, but I figured there was a cheap appetizer that could satisfy me.

I walked into this place called Mullenari's. It served Mediterranean cuisine. I was just "waiting to be seated," loosening my suspenders, watching waitresses zip by with full trays and short skirts... How did I never discover that this establishment had waitresses in skirts? I was thinking to myself about my incredible luck when I slowly recognized that the dapper host approaching me was Mr. Art Hatfield.

"Hello, welcome to Mullenari's." His eyebrows raised as he smiled and I could sense a sudden tension as he removed a menu from behind the podium. "Just one tonight?"

"Sure." Wasn't that obvious? I felt odd so I scratched at my cheek. He led me to a booth and set down a menu. I reached for it but he caught my hand, lightly squeezing it.

"How did you find this place?" He was feigning curiosity and I guessed that he was afraid I came here on purpose like some stalker.

"Trust me, I didn't expect to see your pretty face here." He released my hand immediately.

"And what can I start you off with?" His voice was soft again, and his smile returned.

"Black tea sounds nice." I replied from behind my menu.

"Certainly." He walked off faster than a host probably should.

I was starting to wonder if I was still hungry as I flipped through the menu repeatedly. Art had caught me off guard and I was extremely distracted by his presence. Momentarily I was confused, but when my waitress stepped up and introduced herself my mind happily bounced back to me.

My eyes fell from her large brown eyes to her plump chest and then down to her bare, curvacious legs. No doubt her job hired people based on looks. Everyone I had seen so far in uniform was a knock-out. The servers were even allowed to wear lipstick! She asked me if I was ready to order. Across the room I saw Art approaching with a cup and a teapot. I felt uneasy again so I glanced once more at the menu and dropped my finger any old place, reading the results.

"Southwestern Veggie Burger, I'd like that please." I flashed a small smile as she took down my order.

Art stepped up beside her and set down the tea stuffs. He made eye contact with me for a moment before my server (who introduced herself as "Deb") touched him on the shoulder. I watched his eyes shift toward her as she moved closer and spoke quickly into his ear. The only part I heard was "table six" but Art replied so gracefully ("Of course, leave it to me") that I suddenly felt suspicious of his intentions. His smile must have pleased her because after confirming my order she trotted off with an even bigger smile on her face. Art poured my tea and I stared at him incredulously.

"Are you in it to win it around here?" I raised an eyebrow and gestured toward the attractive ladies serving all around us.

Immediately the guy made some weird sound in his throat, looking toward me with wide eyes before he just started laughing.

I was only mildly caught off guard, but when I noticed customers looking in our direction I pulled him into the booth and "sh"ed him. This probably reminded him he was on the job because he stopped laughing and turned to me with a trembling smile growing on his lips.

"You're always like this?" He sounded like he was holding his breath Still holding back laughter? Annoying.

I didn't know what he meant, so reluctantly... "Like what?"

"Asking others about their love interests, asking people personal questions, asking me uncomfortable questions." His smile grew small and he moved closer to me, pressing a finger into my sternum when he added, "You need to be asking yourself some questions!"

I did? He stood up, cleared his throat, scanned my table and then walked off again. I finished my food without seeing him. I tipped my waitress well. I hung around for a few minutes when I saw a hostess welcoming new customers. I gathered myself and gave the place a once-over, eying up two bussers having a conversation at the bar. Looked promising -I interrupted them with a "hello, sorry to bother you," and I instantly won their attention. As I glanced at their faces I identified both of them as familiar (one went to my high school a grade or two below me, and the other must have been a graduate I saw in my earlier years). With hope that they remembered me, I continued,

"I'm looking for someone who works here as a host? Art Hatfield? I just saw him earlier..."

"Sorry, I think he's off now," replied the older one with an ardent grin and a gesture behind him, "He might still be in the back."

Surely enough, I moseyed around the building and spotted Mr. Art Hatfield sitting on the back steps smoking a cigarette. What a sight he was, my new sensei.

"You smoke, huh?" It was a comment I had to make as I emerged from the alley.

He didn't even turn his head, but his eyes slid toward me and he rose to his feet. He continued down the steps and right past me without even acknowledging me. Maybe the comment didn't help. I made an effort to catch up to him.

"Excuse me sir, but could I bum one?" I nodded toward his cigarette.

"Ha? How old are you?" His eyes didn't deviate from the dim alley before him.

"I'm 18 in May." He isn't serious.

"You say that like it's not July." He handed me a cigarette anyway, but I didn't expect him to look at me with... a smile? So I'm still not certain that this guy hates me?

I reached in my pocket for a lighter but before I found one he offered me a lighter that spelled "GOAL" down the side-I turned it in my hand as I lit my cig and saw footballs on the opposite side.

I seized my chance.

"Huh? Do you like football or something?" I waved the lighter.

"A friend gave it to me." He opened his hand and I accordingly placed the lighter in his palm. Our walking reached an even pace in the exchange and my heart almost stopped when we both took a drag of our cigs at the same time. I had to stop walking in order to suppress a chuckle. This guy seemed kinda serious so I didn't want to lose his trust by laughing at something weird.

At last, it didn't work 'cause I blurted out something that sounded like "Guhuhu". I covered up with an excuse. "Your friend then, must really like football... to-baha aha-get a lighter that says-aha, ahem-'GOAL' on it, right?"

Art looked amused by my behavior alone so I relaxed a little.

"I don't really know if she likes football, actually. I never really thought about it." His smile made me feel good.

Never thought about it? A lighter like that? Really now. "Mm."

"Hey, Nice." He's looking down now. "Are you heading home soon?"

Sigh. "Are you?"

"Probably. And you should too. You have summer school tomorrow, so you should rest up."

"I will. But if you're heading home, I could come with you, then you can give me a proper answer, right?"

"An answer? I thought I told you I would need time to think about it!"

"You still have time!" I threw an arm around him. "You can think on the way there."

He didn't answer for a long time and he nudged my arm from his shoulder but we walked and walked until we ended up at a small apartment building. We went in and took an elevator to the third floor in persistent silence. A few steps down the hallway he pulled out a key and unlocked the door before us.


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