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pequenaotaku · 14 days

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Hot Chocolate

"Sentiments are complicated. Sometimes, I feel like I'm like hot chocolate in a steaming cup. The sweet and the bittersweet mix together with the help of a spoon, becoming a delicious and addictive flavor right after the first sip.

I wish that spoon would spend more time mixing me. I wish it never left the cup."

Versão em português

Headcanon scene from episode 01 after the cut

"So, this is the famous Devenementiel?" I asked aloud, to no one but myself.

The company wasn’t housed in a huge building, one you’d notice from across the city, nor did it make much of a presence in the commercial area, but it was undoubtedly a modern construction. Clear, clean, with many windows surrounding practically the entire building. Small, discreet, yet with a refined appearance. It looked like an interesting place, and I hadn't even seen the inside yet.

I approached the glass door, peeking inside, although I couldn’t see much beyond a very classic and comfortable reception area. It seemed the office was on the first floor. There was no one there; I had arrived too early. I clicked my tongue, crossing my arms. I could have lingered in bed longer, as any good freelancer does when there are no projects to deliver. My shift at the vintage records and knick-knacks store didn't start until the afternoon, after lunchtime. There was no need to go in earlier, and I didn’t have any other plans for that morning, so I’d have to kill time there at the entrance while waiting for one of the employees to arrive.

A few minutes passed with me distractedly looking at the week's recommended playlist on Spotify. If I wasn’t working on a project and wasn’t in a place where I could indulge in being an idle freelancer lounging in pajamas at home all day, seeing what other musicians were up to online was a good pastime. It would never stop being delightful to hear the ideas other artists produced and released with so much passion, to experience a new type of rhythm, seek inspiration and references, be immersed in someone’s vocal or instrumental sound. I took my eyes off my phone screen for a second to look at the company building once more. I felt a tingling sensation all over my body, thinking about the work I could do to contribute to the partnership I was about to finalize. It hadn’t even been a week since I exchanged messages with my only acquaintance there about this, following his strong recommendation.

"You’re early, Collete," the deep, monotonous voice of Thomas resonated behind me. I couldn’t help but smile before turning around.

"Speak of the devil," I joked, watching with amusement as his expression shifted from a slight look of boredom to a curious one. He almost always got lost in his own head during our conversations. I had come to understand that it wasn’t because he found me boring, but rather because he wanted to decipher my words. I seriously wondered what he was thinking at that moment.

"Wouldn't it be 'talking about the devil'?" he raised an eyebrow. It seemed I wouldn’t find out the reason for his silence this time. I just shrugged. "I was put in charge of handling the administrative details for your arrival, including the hiring of another person, which means making two badges along with the identification key so neither of you would have to wait at the door to get in. And since, apparently, we need to be up at the crack of dawn to make them… Here I am, arriving after you," he seemed irritated about having to wake up so early after a long night of work while giving me that explanation that sounded more like a rant escaping his thoughtful mind. I didn’t blame him. It really did seem like a pain.

"I’m glad I’m not the only one who had to drag myself out of bed today."

"More than me, it seems," I saw a hint of a smile light up his face. I winked at him. "Anyway, it won't take long. I’ve already moved things along, so you don’t need to worry. Come on." Without giving me time to add anything, Thomas opened the door, beckoning me to follow him.

So, we took an elevator, and I finally had the pleasure of discovering the open space of the place, which couldn’t be compared to the modern facade. Suddenly, I even started to think that it seemed too cold to accommodate such a warm environment. Inside, it was a complete lively festival of colors, plants, and curious objects. There were no partitions, and amusingly, among the empty desks, I noticed that each table was not only uniquely decorated but also had very different chairs. None were the same. It might have been a small detail, but it showcased the personality of each employee working there. Thomas guided me to the most neutral, organized, and sober desk. It was undoubtedly his.

"You can sit, it won’t take long," he said mechanically as he pulled the chair from the desk next to his for me. It was strangely shaped like a dolphin. It was cute but seemed so uncomfortable and impractical. I began to doubt the sanity of its owner.

"With all due respect, I prefer to stand up, in this case.", I flashed a sly, sarcastic smile, earning another hint of a smile.

"I also don't understand why people here choose anything other than the classic office chair," he commented as he sat in his own chair, turning on the computer. "It's designed for comfort and good lumbar support. In ten years, everyone will be walking with a cane, except for me," I couldn't help but chuckle. I never ceased to find it amusing how, sometimes, he would say such things without a hint of malice. It was just logical and straightforward. "Your desk is this one in front of mine. You’re practically an honorary employee, but the boss thought it would be better if you had one to feel like you belong. You can choose a chair model for yourself later. There's someone who always supplies furniture for us, and his store has everything."

"Far be it from me to give you more work…" I began, with a falsely gentle, sweet voice. "But since you know him, I'll let you handle the negotiations. That said, any model similar to yours is fine by me," he sighed heavily.

"Very well, then I'll take care of it later."

"Don't be like that," I gave him a friendly tap on the shoulder. "Being the IT guy, manager of technology-related events, pressing buttons on a keyboard all day… I didn't give you a more torturous task than those things," I joked. He looked at me quietly for a while.

"You forgot to mention that I also greet new recruits," he simply retorted. I couldn't help but laugh again.

"Ouch," I put my hand on my chest, pretending to have been struck. This time, I really got a smile. Then, he opened a drawer and took out a folder, sighing loudly. "I agree with you, paperwork sucks."

"It's unbelievable how much time we waste on these things. Everyone should have a chip card with all our information registered. We'd scan the card and be done. All the information would be transmitted directly."

"That would be more practical, true," I agreed, shrugging. I had never stopped to think about it. He picked up a pen from a holder on his desk, looking at it with pity.

"Meanwhile, we'll stick with these… archaic methods," I blew air through my nose at his comment, shaking my head. He was incorrigible.

Taking the pen to sign the contract after a quick glance, as I had read it previously via message, I began to remember how we met. Pure coincidence. We both needed to buy a new refracting telescope, better known as a spyglass, as the old one was broken. It was the last one in the store and was on sale. I had my reasons for wanting it, and he had his. We argued for a long time under the weary gaze of the salesman, debating who, in my view, was more deserving to take it. Thomas was steadfast, he had arrived first. As for me, I needed to get it no matter what for personal reasons: to fulfill a tradition of promises made to my late older brother, to observe the showers of celestial bodies that occurred every year while drinking a bottle of hot chocolate in our special spot. It might have been nonsense; he was dead, after all. It's not like he was going to rise from the grave to demand that small promise I decided to make to no one and for no reason at all. But it made me feel closer to him; I didn't want to give up. In the end, somehow, we ended up splitting the cost, the telescope, and, on the night of the meteor shower, two bottles of hot chocolate accompanied by small childhood stories.

Nostalgia. Suddenly, I felt a strong desire to have a cup of that sugary, bittersweet delight.

After making the final curve of my name on the paper, Thomas took a laminated card from the drawer and handed it to me. It was my company badge that served to open the building's door. I stifled a laugh when I noticed that he had ignored the professional photo I sent and opted for my profile picture. Simply me making a face: a wide smile with my tongue out. One of my eyes was closed, and my hands were open beside my face, with my thumbs pressing against my cheeks. I liked it.

"Tom," I called his attention, pointing to the photo. A smile playing on my lips. "Is this really okay?" He just shrugged.

"That sounds more like you. The boss doesn't care so much about traditional professional standards; you'll quickly realize that if you haven't already," he replied simply, making a small gesture with his head to show the company's open space. It really didn't seem very conventional. "He's not the kind of person who evaluates people based on that kind of criterion."

"How funny… I'm starting to feel like I'm going to really enjoy working here."

"I'm glad you think so, because I spent a long time preparing and editing everything for your arrival. On the other hand, I don't understand what's so funny about it…" he commented somewhat reflectively. "It's just a picture of you; we can recognize you, and you look pretty. Traditional or not, it's still office work, not the most exciting thing in the world," I got stuck on his comment.

"Do you think I'm pretty in this photo?" I inquired with one raised eyebrow, exaggeratedly curious about his answer to that question. I had known him for almost a year now; I understood quite well how his little mind worked, modesty aside. But sometimes, I still struggled to differentiate when he was just being logical from when he was being sincere. If there was any difference between the two adjectives.

"It's a statement," he shrugged once again. "Your features are symmetric, your eyes are large, and your teeth are well aligned. These are parameters usually associated with beauty."

This time, I didn't stifle my laughter. Thomas Rheault was, without a doubt, an enigma. One that fascinated me a lot. If that was indeed a compliment, it was surely the least heartfelt one I had ever heard in my life. At the same time, it seemed so typical of him that I couldn't help but take it seriously. Maybe it wasn't that, maybe I was overthinking. It was always like this when it came to him.

"In any case, out of curiosity, what kind of person exactly is this boss?" I inquired, bringing the subject back. It was true that I hadn't had much contact with him. I was recommended by Thomas to work there in organizing one event or another; I liked my professional independence, but all the details involving the boring bureaucracies were solved through messages. My interaction with Devon Okere, the Big Boss, was limited to a brief phone conversation that barely lasted 10 minutes. He seemed like a mystery, or simply too unconcerned. However, being there, I noticed that, in addition to a free and unpretentious environment, there was also a lot of care. As a freelancer, I knew very well how complicated it could be to maintain a small business, let alone a physical office. So, I was quite curious about everything.

"I would say he's the instinctive type. As long as it works for him, he doesn't exactly have a reason to change methods," Thomas nodded, then glanced at the clock, then at the signed contract, and finally at me. "Well, it's done. The others won't take long to arrive. If you want to stay to meet them or take a walk around… Anyway, you have free rein here from now on."

"Uhm…" I pondered for a moment, licking my lips. I really didn't have anything better to do; what harm would it do to explore a little? Besides, a place like that really made you want to linger. "I think I'll take a stroll, yes. But mostly, I'd like to know if there's a kitchen here. I really need to quench my thirst."

Unexpectedly, he chuckled and stood up from his chair, standing right in front of me, forcing me to raise my head. Thomas was only a little taller than me, but throughout the conversation, I had seen him from above because I was standing and he was sitting. Now, however, and so suddenly, I felt a bit small and destabilized. I didn't know what to expect. I didn't even know why I felt that way, as if something should happen. It sounded so cliché.

"Of course, make yourself at home. Actually, I was thinking the same thing," he resumed, snapping me out of my little trance. "If you'd like, I can treat you to a welcome drink," he offered politely.

"Oh, I'd love that, definitely!" I exclaimed, back on track. Better than quenching my thirst was having that desire sponsored by someone.

"The drinks machine is in the pantry; come on," he called as he started to move away, a shadow of a smile floating on his lips. I hurried to follow him. "We can get there by passing through the lounge area."

Just like the open space, that area was enchanting. Large, well-lit, and with vibrant colors catching the eye. Several bean bags, on which I would love to sprawl out, were scattered around along with suspended chairs hanging from the ceiling by chains. Not to mention the beautiful view provided by the large windows from top to bottom. They were just buildings, yes, but I began to imagine a nighttime scene with one or two colored lights still on outside. I couldn't wait to rest there.

"Man, this place looks like a dream!" I exclaimed in wonder.

"Yeah, that's what most people say. But I'll show you something else really cool…" he said simply, piquing my curiosity.

I followed him once again towards the adjacent area, the pantry. At first glance, it looked like some of the hipster cafes I loved to visit. Another very open place, with lots of plants, even on the ceiling, alternating with lamps. In the center, a large round table with a tree in the middle and red swivel chairs around it. Near the windows, small tables with benches followed the same pattern. It was indeed a very beautiful place, but I didn't understand why Thomas found it more impressive until I met the famous drinks machine.

"What would you like?" he asked straight away.

"Let me see what's available first…" I retorted as I quickly glanced at the options the machine offered.

"Don't expect to see anything exotic or innovative."

"No, I know. I'm just saying that to see what I feel like," I shrugged, and then I saw exactly what I needed to see. I loved it when life became so convenient as to combine utility with pleasure. "A hot chocolate, please," the redhead smiled slightly. Maybe he expected that answer from me.

"Good choice…" he took out his phone from his pocket and typed something, then, as if following a command, the machine started working. Thomas looked at me with a proud gleam in his eyes, and immediately I sensed that it was his doing. Finally, he took the full cup and put the lid on to hand it to me. "There you go, a delicious hot chocolate on the house!"

"Thanks!" I gave him a knowing wink, reaching out to get my little indulgence.

When I took the cup, my fingers ended up over his. Our gazes met before he immediately turned away, freezing for a moment, his eyes fixed on the ground or anywhere but my face. I kept my gaze steady; I wanted so much to unravel him, to know what he was thinking at that moment. Focus. I might not be able to read minds, but I was good at picking up on subtle cues.

The seconds seemed to stretch on, his gaze moved to the cup we both held. His cheeks turned slightly pink, he furrowed his brows. Adorable. I could confidently say that the little crease that appeared on his forehead wasn't from disagreement. Maybe he was just confused, wrestling with himself in thought. His beautiful turquoise irises flickered from our hands to elsewhere in rapid movements.

Oh, I really didn't want to misunderstand things, or worse, jump to conclusions. But looking at him like that, I couldn't help but daydream a little as I observed the red curls falling across his face, adorned with a few charming freckles over his nose, his eyes subtly shifting between intense blues and greens.

Cliché. Cliché. Cliché.

Suddenly, he released the cup into my hands and cleared his throat, composing himself as if waking from a trance, pulling me out of mine as well. Everything suddenly felt awkward, as if we had been trapped in that moment for longer than necessary. I also had to clear my throat.

"Is everything alright, Thomas?" I needed to know, I was eager. He glanced at me once again. Unbelievable how mesmerizing his eyes were. I gave myself a mental shake, seeking concentration. I really needed to control myself better.

"I'm fine, yeah… Everything's okay," he murmured in a thoughtful tone. "It's just that… I wasn't expecting there to be… contact," he really must have been confused even with himself this time.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" I gave a nervous smile, choosing my words carefully. I did mean to. But he didn't need to know that yet.

"It's okay," he interrupted me in a natural way. I smiled more relaxed, and he returned the gesture, also making another request to the machine, a drink that I couldn't see, but he took a sip of as soon as he got it.

"Tom… Thanks a lot," I thanked him, squeezing the warm cup of my drink in my hands, also seeking to change the subject as quickly as possible. "But tell me, do you have an app to control this machine? How does it work?"

"I developed it so I wouldn't have to pay for drinks anymore. The app tricks the machine into thinking I've paid, and it serves me what I ask for," he explained automatically and simply, shrugging as if it were no big deal. I raised an eyebrow. Sometimes, I forgot how crafty he could be.

"And nobody sees a problem with that, clever boy?" I grinned mischievously.

"No," he nodded, shrugging. "Actually, after I developed the app, Devon explained to me that everything was already free. There's the coin slot, but it's… a vestigial structure. I never thought about trying to order without paying. I have plenty of coins in there, by the way. I need to remember to download a lockpicking course. Unless you're an expert at it…"

"I can manage, yes… If you give me half as payment," I negotiated, feeling clever. He judged me with his gaze, and I just shrugged, sticking out my tongue. I'm a freelancer, you don't get if you don't ask. "How would you prefer the job to be done? There's the boring conventional way, using tools, and…" I paused for effect. "The messy way, where I blow up the door. If no one minds, that is."

"It's not the most elegant solution…" he made a minimal, yet very funny, expression of disgust. I had to laugh. "I'd be bothered by the idea of damaging it, so let's stick with the conventional solution this time."

"Agreed, then."

"Well…" he quickly scanned the area after the topic was over. "I need to go start working, or this chocolate break tends to become longer than expected. We'll talk later, enjoy your tour."

Without waiting for a response, he returned to the open space. It took me a few seconds to decide to follow, but not exactly to his desk or mine. Taking a walk around the place might help distract my mind. I was in trouble. And I had known it for a while. I knew very well what those desires for his attention meant. Everyone's tired of seeing this story in movies, series, cartoons, games, and books. It was scary. He, however, would surely classify it as illogical, I was sure.

I sighed heavily, taking another sip of my hot chocolate, hoping that the sweet and bitter flavors would help cleanse my soul, covering up that complicated feeling for a while longer. The brief time until my golden eyes met his turquoise ones and all that cliché resurfaced again.

#Sorry if there are any grammatical errors... I'm not fluent #english version #scene headcanon #headcanon #my oc #my candy love #amor doce #amour sucre #corazon de melón #mcl new gen #mcl ng #my candy love new gen #New Gen episode 01 #Colette Lebarde #Thomas Rheault

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