The last customers had left and Ranboo's work for the day had been reduced to sweeping corners. The old clock on the wall showed about a minute past official closing time.

He went to put his broom back and called to his managers at an appropriate volume for a bookstore: "Bye, Mr. and Mrs. Minecraft." He heard quiet goodbyes from both of them and the bell hanging at the shop's door rang as he opened it.

"Ranboo, are you all good for tomorrow?" one of his bosses asked, showing up in front of him, a man older and much smaller than him. "You found anyone to help you work the shop yet?"

"Not yet," Ranboo said, a little unsure of himself. "Is anyone fine?"

"Anyone you know," Phil answered. "But we hired you, so you're in charge."

"Alright." Ranboo smiled half-genuinely. "I'll try to find someone. See you when you get back. Have fun."

"Bye, Mate," Philza called, as the entrance bell rang again and Ranboo left.

Ranboo walked home. Their apartment was too small and too hot.

Music blared from the room next to him. He'd kept up a sort of friendship with his neighbour over the past few days since they met, and had finally put two and two together to find out who had been blasting his music for the last week. Ranboo knocked on the wall between them; "Tubbo, if you don't turn that down, you have to let me in so I can listen."

The song paused and he heard Tubbo's door open, followed by his own. Their friend stood in the doorway looking defiant but half-suppressing a smile. "Well. You can come in."

"Awesome." Ranboo followed Tubbo into his room, where he sat down on a cheap bed in front of a laptop covered in stickers.

"Show me the song," Ranboo demanded playfully.

"Only if I get to see you dance to it," Tubbo shot back.

Ranboo hoped he didn't look too flustered. "Hey! I didn't agree to that!"

"No song for you, then."

Ranboo gave in. "Fine. One time."

"Alright, well, it's a work in progress," Tubbo answered. "I've been trying to figure out what to do with it for a while. Maybe you can give me some ideas."

The song started playing again, from the start, Ranboo guessed, and he stood up and stretched. They were trying to avoid Tubbo's eyes and convince themself one-on-one was less scary than performing for a whole crowd, and rehearsed the dance they'd performed at their last event, trying to make it go along with the tune of Tubbo's song. It didn't really work and the elegant movements he'd practised to orchestral music probably looked silly against the bright pop song, but Tubbo looked to be enjoying it just as much.

When the music picked up Tubbo stood and looked like he was trying to join in, though clearly he hadn't had much teaching. He crashed into Ranboo who stumbled sideways and nearly knocked over a shelf. Ranboo laughed as he righted himself.

"If you break anything in my apartment, you're paying for it," Tubbo warned, smiling.

"That was you!" Ranboo protested.

"If I break anything in my apartment while you're here, I'm blaming it on you."

Ranboo laughed again and they kept going, Tubbo baltering shamelessly and Ranboo desperately trying to keep up with the music. They caught him once, the next time he almost destroyed something. Ranboo didn't get through his whole dance before the song ended and Tubbo collapsed down on his bed, laughing and looking tired. Ranboo leant against the wall and smiled at him, even though they knew he wasn't looking.

"Fuck," Tubbo finally spoke, and laughed again. "I'm meant to be working! You distracted me!"

"On the song?" Ranboo asked, coming to sit beside him. "You get any inspiration from that?"

"I think so, actually," Tubbo said thoughtfully. "And yeah, I've got a business deal–" he said the words with exaggerated pride — "but I'm still unemployed and I've really gotta kick my music career off. I've put one song online already, but it's not doing much."

"Oh!" Ranboo exclaimed. "My bosses are gonna be out of town and I have to run their shop for a few days, so we could use another employee. And you'll be paid for every hour you're there."

"Do I have to do an interview or anything?"

Ranboo shook his head. "They said anyone I know is okay. It's not hard, and it's just for a few days. It's the little bookshop on Silverhill Close, it's open from 11 till 4 but any amount of time will probably help. My bosses are gone tomorrow till friday."

"Oh– yeah, I think I can make a couple hours a day." Tubbo looked like he was mapping out a schedule in his head. "I'll come in tomorrow morning. That alright?"

"Great," Ranboo said enthusiastically. "I'll see you then."


Tubbo arrived ten minutes before opening time but Ranboo was already there, emerging with two cups of coffee as soon as the door opened. Tubbo greeted him with a smile as he walked up to the desk.

"So, you're my boss for the day?" he bantered, resting his elbows on the countertop.

"More like a coworker. Coffee?" Ranboo offered, placing one in front of Tubbo and cradling the other in their hands. "I would've texted you to ask what you wanted but I wasn't sure if you were driving here or something, I just made you mine."

"You've been to my apartment and I'm only here 'cause I'm broke, you think I can afford to drive?" Tubbo took the coffee anyway and sipped it.

"Woah!" It tasted like a lot of cream and sugar and felt like a lot of caffeine.

"You good?" Ranboo asked.

"Are you?" Tubbo replied. "You drink this every day, Bossman?"

"Mhm," Ranboo answered, taking a sip of his own and appearing unfazed. "Sorry. You can make your own in the back, if you want, I'll have yours."

"It's fine." Tubbo didn't feel like figuring out how to work a coffee machine and didn't want to be responsible for Ranboo getting sick. He took another sip of the electrifying coffee and felt himself flinch.

"Alright. Well, come behind the desk, you're an employee now," Ranboo said, almost an order.

Tubbo stepped behind the counter where Ranboo was standing. "So how does this work, exactly? What do you do here?"

"Usually I just stand here and scan people's books or help them find things, then one of my bosses will take over for me and I get to take a break, clean stuff, organise the shelves, whatever. It'll be a bit longer before people start coming in, I should show you the employees only room." Ranboo seemed like he was getting the hang of being in charge. The bookstore was small but felt vast in its emptiness, walls lined with shelves and the desk at the back, the rest of the space unoccupied with couches and beanbags in the corners. Walls covered in old paintings and book posters. It was cosy, the lights were warm and dim and the whole place had a weird calmness to it. It was the kind of place you could fall asleep in. Ranboo led Tubbo to a door with STAFF ONLY printed on it, leading to a smaller room a little less comfortable than the main part of the store, the only things in it cleaning supplies, a small table with the coffee machine and some cups, messily labelled boxes of books and three chairs which he supposed belonged to the owners — who Tubbo remembered to be kind older couple — and apparently their only employee.

"So, this is where I hang out when I'm not at the desk. And we've got a bunch of books back here that we can't fit on the shelves." Ranboo looked awkward like they were thinking of something else to say. "Should we go back now?" Tubbo offered.

"Yeah," Ranboo said quickly. "Customers will be here soon."

...

The first person to come in was a man not much older than they were, eighteen or nineteen maybe, who looked a little shorter than Ranboo (which was still massive) and much stronger with long, messy dyed-pink hair. He looked tired.

Tubbo watched him look around at the shelves. "If he wants to get anything I'll handle it, just to give you a demonstration," Ranboo whispered to him. Tubbo nodded.

The customer finished looking and placed Art of War on the counter.

"Is that all, Sir?" Ranboo said brightly. Despite his shyness he had an excellent customer service voice.

"Yup," the pink-haired man said shortly, and Ranboo scanned his book and read the price.

"Have a good day," Ranboo called as he left, said goodbye and the bell rang.

Ranboo turned to his new coworker. "Look easy enough?"

"Well, I'm not sure I'll be as pro as you," Tubbo confessed, "but I think I get it."

"That's fine," said Ranboo. "Just follow my lead."

...

On his last day working with Ranboo, Tubbo came in for the final hours of their shift, a little more accustomed to the job but still surprised it was already ending. The store wasn't busy, mostly he and Ranboo just stood behind the desk and talked. "I never asked why you chose to work here," Tubbo said as he realised it. "You a big book person?"

"Not really," Ranboo answered with a shrug. "I thought it would be low-stress."

"Is it?"

"I'd say so," they said. "Has it been for you?"

"Yeah, but it's good to know other jobs will probably be more stressful."

Ranboo was quiet for a bit. "Do you think you can actually make it with the whole music thing?" They asked wonderingly.

"I dunno," Tubbo sighed, resting his head in his arms on the counter. "At least I can say I've had a real job now. Maybe it'll help bring me down to earth in the future."

Ranboo laughed. "If you get famous and lose your idea of what normal life is like?"

"Yeah. But if you like it here maybe you'll be able to keep me grounded, too," Tubbo joked, "unless getting famous is on your bucket list too."

"Definitely not." Ranboo grinned. "So I'd be happy to keep you from getting a big head, remind you of your working days."

"All three of them," Tubbo added. They laughed again.

Ranboo looked up at a clock Tubbo couldn't read. "We're a few minutes till closing. I'd usually start cleaning up now, you can stay here if you want." They left and Tubbo decided he'd stay, closing his eyes with his head still in his arms. He wasn't sure how long it was before the entrance bell interrupted his zoning out. He tried to stand up straight and look awake, all before realising it was Tommy, his designer.

"Oh, hey, Tubbo," Tommy greeted him, with the friendly recognition he hadn't had during their first real-life conversation. "Are you guys still open?"

"Yeah, but closing soon," said Tubbo, and checked the clock on his phone. "Three minutes."

"Shit, okay," Tommy said, hurrying to a shelf to look for a particular book. He called to Tubbo from where he was. "So is this your new job?"

"Just temporarily, to pay for your thing," he answered. "How's that going anyway?"

"I'm basically finished. I'll probably keep looking at it to make sure I didn't mess anything up, but I can get it to you whenever you can pay."

"Okay. I'm getting paid– Ranboo, when am I getting paid?"

He could already tell he'd called too loud, and the excitement in his voice had probably been pushing it already, before he got told off for it. "Sunday. But keep it down. I'm sorry, Sir." He looked less sternly at Tommy and gave a practised, clearly-for-customers-and-not-friends smile.

"That's all good," Tommy said to Ranboo as they went back to their work. He came up with a book that Tubbo scanned and had him pay for as they talked. "Alright, I can give it to you Sunday after you've been paid or anytime after. That okay?"

"Yeah!" Tubbo answered, his excitement still hindering his professional tone. "Thank you!"

"No problem," said Tommy with a friendly, genuine smile, "thank you," and left. He and Ranboo slacked off the rest of the shift together and Tubbo took the bus home. He waited out the weekend impatiently until he was paid and texted Tommy:

You: I got paid! When is good and where should we meet?

Tommy: I'm fine anytime today, whereish do you live?

You: Redport apt complex

Tommy: Sweet I'm in the same one, we could just go to one of our apartments

You: Cool which one are you? I'm in rm 54

Tommy: 32

You: Ok ur down from me so I'll come to you

You: Now ok? Also can pay cash if thats easyest

Tommy: yep thanks :)

Tubbo was impressed with himself for successfully navigating his way to Tommy's apartment. He knocked and the taller boy opened the door with what looked like a reused plastic shopping bag. "Hey," he greeted, holding it up in a small gesture.

"Hey," said Tubbo, smiling, taking the money from his pocket. "That's enough, right? With the tip?"

"Yeah, thank you," Tommy answered while he counted it. He handed Tubbo the bag and he impatiently looked inside. "If you've got any problems with it I could change anything. You said I could take liberties with the design, right?"

"Looks awesome," said Tubbo. "And yeah, I'm not the designer, so I trust you."

"Alright, then." Tommy put his hands on his hips and smiled. "It was good working with you."

"You too, thanks so much," Tubbo said. "Take care." He went back up to his own apartment and got a good look at Tommy's work; what he'd ordered was a pink and cream jacket with some fun patches — Tommy had made it somehow cooler than he'd been able to imagine, sewn with little stars and hearts, and it felt comfortable. Tubbo wondered, once his mind had moved to Tommy, whether he should delete his number. Their work was over but they had been friendly, and Tubbo hoped they could still talk as friends.

Whenever his next performance would be he'd like to get Tommy a ticket if he wanted one, for all the help — maybe they could stay in contact at least for now.