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Okay, so, Peter doesn't entirely know how he ended up working at "Up to The Imagination". One second he was a mere uni student attempting to meet ends meet, and now, he works at the slowest place in the world.

He works at a fucking whimsical calendar store. Which is, well, not a typical place for anyone to work at. Or shop at, for that matter.

Half of their stock has collected dust. And Peter has been working for four hours now, and not a single soul has stepped inside.

Up until a dark haired boy, roughly his age, steps inside, his shoulders coated in rain water from the ensuing storm outside. He shuffles his feet against the small, worn out mat sitting in front of the door, and then flashes a smile up at Peter.

"Busy day?" He asks. Peter nearly melts at the sound of his voice. He has a hint of an accent. Peter assumes Spanish. It's a bit rough, too.

"Well, how busy can a calendar store actually be?" Peter beams. "

"You make a fair point," He smiles, "I'm looking for a calendar for my aunt- her birthday is coming up and she has an odd thing for calendars."

"I'm sure I can be of some help," Peter hums, "Can I ask what she likes?"

"She really loves to travel. I hardly know if that'll help, but, it's the best I can give you." He tells him.

"I think I'll be able to find something fro you." Peter grins, before pulling away from the check-out counter and stepping into one of the three aisles. He finds a medium sized calendar, decorated with small drawings of landmarks. With a satisfied hum, he takes it into his hands and brings it over to the boy, who smiles widely at him.

"This is perfect, yeah. How much will it be?" He asks him, once he's taken the calendar from Peter.

"Five pounds, but I'll let you off with two and a half." Peter blushes.

"That's not necessary, I promise," The boy smiles, handing over a five pound note, "And, sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, but could I get your number?"

Peter doesn't even think before scribbling down his number on a spare bit of parchment. "I'm Peter, by the way." He grins.

"Caspian." Caspian smirks, shooting a wink in Peter's direction. He scoops up both the calendar and the scribbled down number, and then, he's gone as quickly as he came in.