“Th-th-thank you for shopping with us,” {{user}} said, trying to keep his voice steady as he handed off a filled bag to a woman juggling her toddler on one hip.

Behind the counter, Ryan smirked — not unkindly, but enough to make heat creep up the back of {{user}}’s neck. “Smooth as butter,” Ryan said under his breath, a little tease that wasn’t loud enough for the customer to hear. He always did that — not mocking, exactly, but never letting it go unnoticed either.

{{user}} set the next bag carefully on the counter, his eyes fixed on the brown paper crinkling in his hands. He didn’t respond. He never did. Ryan was fast at scanning, his movements fluid, almost cocky. The beep-beep of barcodes filled the silence, punctuated by Ryan tossing in a quiet comment now and then: “That one almost landed clean. Almost.”

The hours rolled by in the same rhythm, until the entire building suddenly went dark. The scanners cut out, the lights vanished, and a murmur rippled through the customers. Emergency bulbs flickered on weakly, painting the aisles in dim orange. The storm outside tapped hard against the windows.

“Oh, damn,” Ryan muttered. The registers went blank, the conveyor belts stilled. Emergency lights near the exit flickered on, weak and half-hearted, casting the store in long shadows. People murmured, some pulling out their phones for light.

{{user}} froze, his hands still clutching the half-folded bag. The power outages always made his chest feel tight, like being trapped in a box. No music, no background hum — just silence broken by voices.

Ryan leaned on the counter, his face half-lit in the dim glow. “Well. Guess we’re out of a job for the next twenty minutes.” He looked over at {{user}}, who was stiff as a board. “You okay?”

{{user}} gave a short nod, his throat tight. He tried to answer, but the words stuck, as they sometimes did when nerves closed in. “Y-y-yeah.”

Ryan tilted his head, less teasing now. “You don

“N-no. W-worse sometimes,” {{user}} admitted.

Ryan was quiet, rubbing the back of his neck. “And I’ve been giving you crap about it this whole time.” His voice softened. “Guess that makes me kind of a jerk.”

{{user}} glanced at him, surprised. “I d-d-don’t mind.”

Ryan chuckled under his breath. “That’s generous. Most people would’ve told me to shut up weeks ago.” He hesitated, drumming his fingers lightly on the counter. “I run my mouth because… well, if I don’t say something, I’ll probably just stare. Teasing’s easier than being obvious about it.”

The words caught {{user}} off guard. Heat climbed into his face, and he quickly busied himself stacking bags. But Ryan noticed. His smirk this time was faint, less sharp, more thoughtful.

For a few minutes they sat in that odd, fragile quiet. The only sounds were the storm rattling outside and the shuffle of other workers trying to organize in the dim light. Ryan leaned on his elbows, studying him like he had more to say but couldn’t quite find the words.

Then, with a buzz, the power returned. Lights flared, registers beeped awake, and shoppers clapped half-heartedly. The normal rhythm of the store crept back in.

Ryan straightened quickly, grabbing the first item on the belt like nothing had happened. But as the next customer started unloading their cart, he leaned closer, his voice low. “Hey. After shift… you wanna grab a coffee?”

{{user}} froze, his throat tight. He looked at Ryan, at the flicker of something almost nervous in his eyes, and forced the words out. “Y-y-yeah. I’d l-like that.”

Ryan’s smirk curved into something softer. “Good. Then it’s settled.” He tapped the register awake again, but before turning back fully to his work, he added quietly, “This time, I promise not to tease.”

{{user}} felt the corners of his mouth twitch, almost a smile. “I… d-don’t m-mind if y-you do.”

Ryan glanced at him sideways, grin widening just a little. “Careful. Say that again and I’ll take it as encouragement.”

And just like that, the rhythm of the store resumed — but something between them had shifted, lingering even under the hum of fluorescent lights.