Chapter Text
Coffee drinker. Suit wearer. Man who critiques film for a living. The date: October 27th, 2028. Noel Gruber, aged 30, content with his life was currently publishing a film review he had made of The Blue Angel. Since working at CCRP Technical, he had been building up the courage to publish the review but finally, he had the chance to. The assignment had been films from the first 30 years of the 1900s, and luckily for him, The Blue Angel was published in 1930. Sat with his dark brown hair combed neatly out of his face in a brown suit, white button up shirt and black tie, iPhone 6S in his pocket, he could proudly say he lived the life of his dreams.
He hadn’t expected to be a film critic for a living. However, he could note that his dreams had died out a long time ago. He gave up when The Cyclone had crashed and they almost all died. It had been a tragic event, one that bought him closer to both The St Cassian Chamber Choir and also his mother, if that was even possible. No. Noel Gruber had not been able to pursue a career as a professional Marlene Dietrich as Lola Lola impersonator. Instead, he was Lola Lola…as Noel Gruber, who was a film critic- he critiqued films, basically, and that was all he did. He thought he’d be bored out of his mind during his first few months at the job. He had been pleasantly surprised to find out that had not been the case.
That wasn’t the only surprising thing. His relationship with the Chamber Choir bent when they left school, diverting into some different branches. Some of them went to college, others went into other fields. Either way, the path they took in life had surprised them all. As for now, as Noel lifted his head up to announce he was about to go and get coffee from the shitty Starbucks coffee store a few blocks away, he could see Constance Blackwood sitting in front of her computer, looking particularly determined. The desk beside her had one Richard Potts sat in an oversized sweater and dress pants. The dress code had been bent for him to cater to his mobility issues, to be able to keep him warm. Something jostled in Ricky’s brain when the crash occurred. He still couldn’t talk, and he learnt sign language to make it easier to talk to his friends, but he could now make specific noises when frustrated, upset or elated. For now, Ricky seemed to be looking down at his computer, initiated with the report he was filing out. Finally, he couldn’t see her but he could definitely hear her based on how loud she was telling someone on the other end of the line to ‘turn it off and on again,’ was his arch nemesis, Ocean O’Connell Rosenburg, who had escaped her family’s hippy lifestyle to form her own path, one where she could manually lay the bricks down. So, her campaign for first female Prime Minister of Canada didn’t go according to plan, as being told by the fact they were all currently sitting in an office. Now, she worked full time as a tech consultant. Ocean O’Connell Rosenburg, tech consultant. Whoever would have thought? Certainly not him, for if he knew Ocean worked there when he accepted the offer, he wouldn’t have taken it at all.
If Belinda Carlisle could write Heaven is a Place On Earth, then Noel was writing Hell follows me in the form of a ginger, peppy bitch.
As for Mischa…his heart still leapt when he thought of Mischa. In college, they’d all gotten really close. They’d gotten so close, in fact, they had been able to tell Mischa that him being stored in a basement by his parents was abuse. Upon learning this, he had packed a bag, sent them all a text saying that he was going to go and become a weed farmer, and from that day on, nobody had heard from in. God, how he missed Mischa.
But he was 30 now and that was what he needed to focus on, not being hung up on his high school crush…and that started with being an adult who worked in an office by responding to Constance who seemed frustrated he wasn’t talking to her-
“Noel!”
“Yes, yes, apologies, yes.”
Constance scrunched her nose up to once she finally got Noel’s attention, gesturing to the printer beside his desk. “The printer system’s broken, remember? I forgot to send it to the right one and now my work’s in your printer.”
Truthfully, as Noel turned to his printer tray, he couldn’t distinguish what was actually Constance’s work, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. He filed through the work and anything that he knew wasn’t his, he tapped on a desk to neaten it up and approached her desk which was a short while away. He lightly placed her work down and offered her a slight smile. “Remember. It’s gotta be HP LaserJet, not the Inkjet.”
“Yeah, well it’s confusing!” She said and tapped her screen with the pen she was holding. It appeared she was taking notes on statistics. It was days like these Noel Gruber was thankful for his job. He would hate being stuck with statistics.
He turned, about to head back to his desk when his boss called him over, once again shouting about how he hadn’t turned in his weekly reports yet. He had done them, and they were printed off, but he continued to forget to hand them in. By the end of the day, he made sure of the fact his reports would be handed in. As he was heading back to his desk, he was approached by his boss’ annoying secretary, who’s name was Esme. He didn’t speak with Esme too often purely because of the fact they couldn’t be more different if they tried. Esme was like Ocean, if Ocean was into Hello Kitty. For that reason, Noel didn’t like Esme. Esme prompted him, asking if he would be signing up for the company softball league. Fuck if he ever would. He essentially told her a politer variant of “fuck off” as he walked back to his desk, making a brief stop off at Ricky’s desk to see what he was doing.
He tapped on Ricky’s desk to alert his presence to him. “Morning, Ricky.”
Ricky looked up, a look of distant worry lingering in his brown eyes. Ricky made a noise of disgruntlement as he set his phone down on the table, face down. “Penny’s working a late shift.”
Ah. Noel knew he was forgetting someone in his annual reminiscing session. Penny Lamb, who joined the choir late and had been affected worst by the accident, had ended up becoming a detective. She had sworn her life to making sure nobody else encountered such a horrific accident, and was making sure everything was legally in place in Saskatchewan. Well, as much as she possibly could. He saw her around occasionally, and when they saw each other, they did a small wave of acknowledgement, but it never went further. Ricky and Penny were by far the two closest out of the original six. They were so close that the were roommates.
And oh my god, they were roommates, until Penny mysteriously started working later hours which often left Ricky alone which shouldn’t be happening in case something happened to him. At the news Penny was, once again, working a late shift, he sighed. “Did you ever find out why?”
Ricky looked off for a moment to consider an answer before looking at Noel. “Something to do with a string of crimes. They need her. I get it. Hurts, though.”
“Yeah…I’d say…” He folded his arms, then decided on saying what he had been intending to all this time. “Anyways, I’m heading on down to Beanies! Anyone want anything?” Ricky shook his head, but Noel would get him his usual order. “Constance?” He looked over at her and sighed exasperatedly. Just moments ago, she was scolding him for not being on the ball with his attention span, and there she was, staring at her page. “Constance!”
“Shoot!” Constance jumped as she looked up. “Sorry!”
Noel looked at her and bit his tongue. He hadn’t mean to make her jump. He wasn’t that kind of person. He eased his tone as he stood by Ricky, watching as, from the corner of his eye, Ricky returned to playing the Pacman minigame on Google. “Beanies, Constance. You want me to grab you anything?”
“Uh…” She considered it, humming. “Well, if you could get me a caramel latte, that’d be great! I’m really tired and I gotta keep refreshing this webpage you see. My little brother, he’s outta school, right, and his friends have all gone to New York on this trip but two can play at that game! He can’t go, but it doesn’t mean he can’t watch a show!” She beamed at Noel. “As soon as tickets become available, I’m grabbing two of ‘em to see Mamma Mia tonight at the Starlight!”
Noel repressed the urge to roll his eyes. He didn’t want to upset her. He wasn’t an emotionless bastard, after all. He did have empathy, though some chose not to believe that fact. “…right. Caramel latte?”
“Yep!”
“Good luck with the tickets.” He said and began heading for the door. Unfortunately, he seemed to have forgotten whose office was right beside the exit for, as he passed by, the door dramatically opened. There Satan sat, in a white button up and a pencil skirt. She’d done her hair up in a high ponytail, her signature black hairband still held in place atop of her head. She never did grow out of her black hairband phase. She was seated on a spinny chair with her right leg crossed over the other, her shoe half hanging off of her foot, but she was more focused on propping the phone between her ear and her shoulder. There she was. Ocean O’Connell Rosenburg. She looked at him. “You going to Beanies?”
“Don’t even think about asking me for another one of your hippie drinks, Ocean. You haven’t paid me back for the other eight.”
She scoffed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. It would usually be held back by her headband, but it seemed she wasn’t as organised as she was letting out. “Well, I figured you’d heard what was going on down at Beanies. I figured you’d wait until after we’d all gotten off shift.”
He laughed emptily. “Why would I bother waiting when I’m on break now?”
“I thought you of all people would know the new hire.”
“I didn’t think Beanies was hiring.”
“It seemed Natalia took pity.” She eyed him up and down, biting her thumbnail. She examined him in minute detail for the best part of exactly 63 seconds before she spoke again. He leaned on the door frame, which made it funnier for Ocean when she did speak again for his entire body jolted. “You really don’t know who’s working there now?”
“Why would I?”
Ocean furrowed her eyebrows. “Well, I figured if you’re going to Beanies instead of Starbucks then surely, you’d know. You’re like…a Starbucks fanatic.”
“Yeah. And I’m on a budget. I would like to have some nice shit by the end of this month.”
“Noel Gruber we are at work!” She scoffed. “You mustn’t use profanities in the workplace!”
“Yeah, the boss isn’t around so fuck that rule.” He looked at her. “Who’s working there?”
She tapped her chin for a moment before she smiled, though it was cold, competitive. “You’ll find out.”
“Yeah, thanks Ocean.” With that, Noel left for Beanies, the echo of Ocean calling for a chai iced tea in his ears which he absolutely wasn’t getting.
He took the leisurely stroll down the blocks it took to get from CCRP Technical to get to Beanies. It was funny, really, a sick sense of irony, because Beanies was positioned outside of Starbucks. Yes, Beanies was more aesthetic appearing in terms of its interior but everyone in the town knew that Starbucks was ten times better. Still, Noel was having caffeine withdrawals and as shitty as Beanies was, he needed coffee.
He stepped in and was hit with the warmth radiating from the dark green walls and the dark oak floorboards. The tables were made of oak and the chairs were of either a green or a brown. There were various different paintings of plants around the walls, the largest being behind the white, marble counter which they used to display cakes and where customers ordered. By the large piece of art was the menu, written up on the chalkboard. Noel examined it while he waited behind a very angry man.
To the right of the room, he could see the manager of Beanies, Natalia “Talia” Bolinska, just under a year younger than the rest of the Chamber Choir. She had moved to Saskatchewan for studies. Well, that was what Talia had told Noel. He knew deep down it had been so that she could see Mischa and-
God, why did his heart hurt when he thought about Mischa still? Mischa had been happy with Talia and the way she spoke about him, it had been the same way round on her behalf. So, Talia managed Beanies. There was another woman who worked there, someone who was older than them by ten years, who thought she was the manager, but she wasn’t. She was a major bitch, though. Noel had only encountered her once, but once was enough.
Noel didn’t know who was at the counter today. He could often see through the window when he passed by to get to Starbucks but today, he hadn’t bothered checking, more fascinated with the menu. He chose the option as close to his usual Starbucks order, running it through his head over and over and over again while this man at the front complained about his coffee. Noel thought to himself, ‘you ordered from Beanies. You get what you’re given,’ and left it at that. Before long, the man had left and it was Noel’s turn to order.
“Hi,” he started as he looked to the counter, something other than eye contact. “Can I please get a caramel latte, a hot chocolate with soy milk and a black coffee plea-.” He was mid way through finishing his sentence when he caught eyes with the cashier and he’d be damned if he ever forgot that face.
Dressed the standard Beanies uniform consisting of a black shirt, extremely short tight-fitting shorts with a green apron over the front, smiling at him, nonetheless, was someone he had been thinking about a lot more regularly. Everything about him was the same. How his hair was still as messy as it had been when they were in the choir, how there were wrinkles when he smiled, which was what he was doing now. How he always seemed so happy around him.
After not seeing him for the past decade, there, behind the counter, was-
“Mischa?!”