as if the universe didn’t hate you enough, you were now stuck working daily duo night-shifts with some guy who harbored deep resentment and anger accompanied by deep anger issues somewhere tangled in there which made the long, irritable and suffocating heat office nights ten times worse.

you only knew his damn name from the name tag attached to the dingy second-hand vest given to him by Raglan — who was just as bad — but also that he had a little sister, Abby.

Michael never really spoke unless it was really necessary like opting to take over watching cameras so you can roam around and check out the building for the timing until swapping frequently with your agreement.

it was one of those long and eerily silent nights that picked away at your busy brain as the two of you sat absentmindedly in the cramped office side by side accompanied by the annoying ticking of the clock hung too high on the wall.

there was a squeak from his chair when a loud disruptive crash boomed across the otherwise silent abandoned pizzera sending Michael’s head snapping towards the open door of the office with a surprised yet almost frightened expression.

“what the hell was that?” Michael commented more or less to himself amidst pointing his bright flashlight down the awfully dark moss-overgrown hallway scattered with old posters and decorations.

his furrowed brows were accompanied by a dampness to his crinkled forwards as he seemingly awaited for another sound whilst leaned forward in his chair once his lips curved into a subconscious scowl that you’ve seen one too many times before.

god, this job sucked more than his stupid combat boots he more than worn out from wearing them every day.