Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x M!Reader

Three

As per usual it was already way past your hours as you finally had tidied everything up to leave.

With a glance at the clock, a soft curse leaves your lips. Much too late. Hastily, you rummaged in the pocket of your coat and pulled out a key which you inserted into the lock of the glass door. At the same moment, your mobile phone rang.

"Lina?", you asked.

"Hello, (Y/N)!", the voice of a young woman greeted you.

"I know it's late, I've been delayed. I'm so sorry. Of course I'll pay for the overtime.", you assured her right away, clasping your mobile phone between your ear and shoulder and trying to lock the door with one hand.

She laughed at the other end of the line.

"Don't worry, I've got everything under control. Would you mind if I lay down on the couch for a while? It's quite late."

"No! I mean, God no, it doesn't matter at all. Please take the guest room, there's a real bed there. You can use the bathroom, of course. I'll be there in half an hour at the latest, I swear!"

She laughed again.

"You're such a nice boss, thank you!", it sounded like she was about to hang up when Lina suddenly thought of something else. "Oh, and please don't worry. Everyone's fine, no problems or anything."

A smile spread across your lips.

"That's a message I like to hear.", the key turned and locked.

To make sure everything was really closed, you rattled the door handle again.

"I'll see you in half an hour then."

"Thank you, Lina, you're a lifesaver!" and with these words you ended the call.

The screen lit up briefly, illuminating the tired expression on your face and the deep circles under your eyes.

An inhuman exhaustion hit your shoulders, pressing your feet into the floor. It's been like this for months, waking up early to go to work, working overtime and then falling into bed like a rock without having done anything but work.

Sighing, you reached out to grab the metal grille that could be pulled out of the roof and locked it. Now the front of the shop was barricaded for the night and you could sleep with a clear conscience.

You sighed again. This time you had to rub your eyes to fight back a wave of tiredness. Your eyes wandered around the street.

Although the shop was so close to the main street and therefore a popular tourist destination, it was surprisingly quiet.

Only a few residents were still walking through the darkness, occasionally illuminated by the lanterns. Lost in thought, they looked at their phones, listened to music and blocked out everything around them.

A cold wind tugged at your (H/C) hair. Shivering, you pulled your coat tighter around you.

When was the last time you faded out of real life and just existed, walking around without thoughts filling your head?

You couldn't remember.

"Bloody hell...", sighing wearily, you leaned your head against the cool metal for a moment and took a deep breath.

Everything in your body felt heavy. Bones were stiff and joints were sore. You could feel the age spreading through your back, even though you weren't quite there yet. And you didn't even want to talk about your feet. They hurt so much that everything was numb and swollen.

For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to close your eyes and just listen to the sound of cars driving over old cobblestones, the brakes from the bus that stopped at the front of the street and opened your doors.

Footsteps. People everywhere.

It was a little cold, so you pulled your coat even tighter.

More footsteps. The smell of cigarette smoke filled your nose. You opened your eyes a crack. And at the same moment you flinched in surprise.

A man stood in front of you, frozen in mid-stride. A cigarette dangled between his plump lips, the ash falling onto the kerb.

Brown eyes met yours (E/C) ones. Somehow you thought you recognised those eyes.

But the man, British-African, with the black beard on his chin and above his upper lip, bore no resemblance to anyone you knew.

And yet he stared at you, slight wrinkles on his forehead, as if he knew you. Curious, you leaned to the side to get a better look under his cap. He straightened his back and stood up straight.

You noticed how tall he was, a good metre eighty-five, slim but still trained. Still confused by the sight of you, he took the cigarette out of his mouth with two fingers and exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"(Y/N)?", he asked suddenly.

His voice was friendly, not too low but not too high to make him sound feminine, with a clear posh Londoner accent.

Immediately something scratched at the back of your head. You knew that voice. Not exactly like that, but the way he spoke, friendly and so polite even though he had just addressed a complete stranger.

You frowned.

"We know each other?", it was more of a question, but you didn't doubt that the answer was yes.

A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. And suddenly you recognised him.

"What the hell? Kyle?", smiling, you grabbed him by the shoulders, looking at the man from head to toe.

With a hoarse laugh, he threw away his cigarette and hugged you warmly.

"Shit, (Y/N)?!", he asked to reassure himself.

"Yeah man. Holy shit, look at you. You've really grown. You look like a proper bloke."

"And you're still ugly as shit!"

You playfully punched him in the stomach. You laugh together.

"Damn, how long has it been?", Kyle took the cap off his head as he caught his breath.

Thick, black curls appeared.

"Hey, you're wearing your hair long now.", you wiggle your eyebrows. "Suits you."

He wiped a few curls from his forehead.

"You look different too.", he admitted with a nod in your direction.

You looked down at yourself with a shrug.

"Yeah well... it has been a while since Sixth Form."

His eyes traveled along your body, a faint smile on his lips that had all the nostalgia and happiness of a man who had just met his former best friend again.

"Yeah...", his voice was so soft and thoughtful all of a sudden. "Innit?"