Jade Leech

Monstro Lounge thrived on precision.

Every glass polished just right, every smile curated, every deal wrapped in silk and barbed wire. Jade Leech was very good at maintaining that balance. As manager, he drifted through the Lounge like a current—calm, observant, quietly in control. He assisted when needed, corrected when necessary, and smiled when it served a purpose.

You were a server.

Which meant you crossed paths constantly.

Jade helped on the floor more often than one would expect of a manager. He moved with quiet efficiency, carrying trays when the rush hit, stepping in when guests grew unpleasant, diffusing situations before they turned ugly. You noticed it first—the way Jade always appeared just in time, how his presence alone calmed the room.

At first, you were just coworkers. Polite exchanges. Small nods. Jade handing you a tray, reminding you to take a break when things slowed.

Jade categorized you as reliable. Trustworthy. An asset.

Then came the lunch rush.

It was one of those shifts where everything went wrong at once. A delayed shipment. A double booking Azul swore wasn’t his fault. Customers stacked on top of customers, voices rising like waves before a storm. One table in particular had decided Monstro Lounge was the perfect place to unleash their dissatisfaction with the world.

Jade arrived just in time to hear it.

“I asked for still water, not sparkling,” the guest snapped. “Do you people even listen?”

You stood there, posture straight, hands folded, absorbing every word without interruption. When the tirade finally paused, Jade expected the usual response—apologies, excuses, deflection.

Instead, you calmly fixed the problem, offered a solution, and moved on without a single crack in your composure.

Afterward, in the narrow hallway behind the bar, Jade noticed your hands trembling just slightly as you adjusted your tray. Without comment, he placed a cup of water in your hand and stood beside you until your breathing evened out.

“You handled that well,” Jade said. “Many would not.”

Something in him shifted.

That night, he offered to walk you home. Framed it as routine. Safety. Professional courtesy.

After that, it became… frequent.

You lingered after shifts, shared late meals Floyd pretended not to notice, talked while Jade helped restock shelves. Jade found himself listening more than speaking. Watching more than planning.

Then he realized, with startling clarity, that the independent, carefully detached version of himself had gone missing.

That was when it happened.

Jade Leech fell in love.

And everything went wrong.

Azul noticed first.

“Jade,” Azul said sharply one afternoon, slamming a folder onto his desk. “Why would you tell {User} that our contracts contain multiple grey areas specifically designed for leverage?”

Jade didn’t even blink. “They asked nicely.”

“They asked why a guest stormed out!”

“Yes,” Jade replied pleasantly. “And the answer is that the guest failed to read the clauses properly.”

Azul stared at him. “You are terrifying.”

“And now they understand the answer,” Jade replied. “Transparency builds trust.”

Azul stared at him like he’d been betrayed by the concept of logic itself.

Floyd noticed second—and enjoyed it immensely.

Living together meant Floyd witnessed everything. Jade lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, expression soft and unfocused. Jade rereading work messages far longer than necessary. Jade—unthinkably—kicking his feet once while holding his phone.

Floyd leaned against the doorframe, grinning. “You’re smiling.”

“I am not.”

“You totally are.”

Jade turned his head slightly. “If you mention this again, I will reorganize your schedule for a month.”

Floyd laughed. “Worth it.”

---

One day, Floyd walked into the staff break room and found something far worse.

Floyd walked into the break room mid-shift to grab a drink and froze.

Jade was sitting inside the broom closet.

Not hiding. Sitting.

Back against the wall. Face flushed. Hands folded tightly in his lap.

Floyd blinked. “Why are you in the closet?”

Jade didn’t look up. “{User} complimented me.”

“…About what?”

“They said they appreciate how I remain calm under pressure.”

Floyd laughed so hard he nearly dropped to the floor.

“Oh my god,” he wheezed. “You’re kicking your feet earlier, weren’t you?”

Jade slowly raised his gaze. “You will regret this.”

That night, Floyd’s dinner was loaded with shiitake mushrooms.

“So petty,” Floyd muttered, chewing miserably.

Naturally, Floyd decided revenge was necessary.

For weeks, he “accidentally” left Jade alone with you. Assigned you two to close sections together. Sent you on pointless errands as a pair. Made pointed comments just loud enough to be heard.

Jade endured it with admirable restraint.

Azul did not.

“This has gone far enough,” Azul declared one evening, rubbing his temples. “You’re both distracted. Productivity is down. And I refuse to live like this.”

He tapped the schedule decisively. “Extended closing shift. Only you two. Clean-up, inventory, reports. No interruptions.”

Jade glanced at the paper.

He knew exactly what Azul was doing.

And he accepted.

The Lounge was quiet after closing, lights dimmed to a soft glow. The silence felt heavier without the usual hum of patrons. Jade moved methodically, checking off tasks, acutely aware of your presence beside him.

Time stretched.

Eventually, he stopped pretending this was manageable.

He set down the clipboard.

“I have prided myself on composure,” Jade said softly. “On logic. On control.”

He turned toward you, expression open in a way few had ever seen.

“But recently, I find myself anticipating your presence. Looking forward to your shifts. Losing efficiency because my thoughts are elsewhere.”

A pause.

“I dislike inefficiency,” he admitted. “Yet I cannot bring myself to correct this one.”

His smile was small. Genuine. Vulnerable.

“So I will be honest. I am quite fond of you. More than is professionally appropriate. Enough that waiting any longer feels… intolerable.”

Jade stood there, heart pounding, fully exposed.

Somewhere, in the security room, Azul watched the feed with a hand over his face.

Floyd grinned like he’d won a prize.

And Jade Leech, terrifyingly composed in every other aspect of life, waited—heart bare, patience gone, utterly undone by love.