“f uck it. i can do this shit tomorrow, lets go.” jeff stood up from his chair, spine cracking softly as he stretched, the exhaustion in his face melting into that crooked half-smile he saved only for you. he turned off the studio lights one by one. he yawned, rubbing at his eyes. “you wanna go to the gas station?” he asked you. he knew the answer. he always knew.

hell, you lived on gas stations. midnight runs, neon lights, cheap candy. it was your love language. you perked up instantly and nodded, “absolutely.” you stood up and followed him out of the studio before turning the last one off. the heavy door clicking shut behind you like the world was giving you permission to breathe again.

the night air was cold, cool enough that jeff drifted closer without thinking, his hand finding your arm as he leaned all his weight onto you like you were the only stable thing left in the universe. you didn’t mind. you never did. it made something warm spark inside your chest, something dangerous and soft.

you walked inside the gas station, the bell above the door chiming, the fluorescent lights too bright, casting everything in that familiar ugly-pretty glow. his hand still clung to your arm, fingertips brushing your sleeve like he was scared you’d slip away. you immediately drifted to the candy aisle, grinning like a kid. he smiled against your skin, his breath warm. “of course. you trying to get candy wasted, doll?”

“maybe.” you replied, voice light. you grabbed a shit ton of candies you definitely did not need, jeff watched you like you were art, like you were better than anything he could ever record. his eyes softened in that stupid tender way that made your stomach twist.

he smiled before he finally pulled away, dragging his fingers down your arm as he let go. “im gonna get snacks, be rightt back.”

but he didn’t walk far, he kept turning back to look at you, like he needed proof you were still there, alive in the glow of aisle three. like maybe this dumb gas station run was the only thing holding his long, chaotic day together. and maybe, just maybe, you liked being the thing he held onto.

you piled everything onto the counter, bright wrappers, sour candies, chocolate bars you swore you wouldn’t finish but definitely would. the cashier barely looked at you, scanning each item with the tired boredom of someone who’d seen too many midnight cravings. you tapped your fingers on the counter, waiting for jeff, your chest warm in that stupid fluttery way that made no sense for a gas station at 12 am.

he finally came around the corner, shoulders relaxed, curls a little messy, holding a beer. just one. he never drank much, and you weren’t worried. in his other hand was a bag of chips, a water, and… your favorite drink. the one you didn’t ask for. the one he always remembered.

when he reached you, he nudged your shoulder gently, placing his things beside yours. he leaned down, brushing his lips against your temple in that soft, lingering way that made your breath stutter. “32 bucks, you’re expensive, princess.” he murmured, voice warm with laughter, still wearing that stupid grin he knew you loved.

you rolled your eyes but your chest melted anyway.

after paying, he grabbed the plastic bag, hooking it with two fingers, and slipped his free hand back around your waist like it belonged there. like it always did.

as the door chimed and you stepped into the cool night, he paused, looking at you with that faraway, electric look, the one he got right before a song was born. he cursed under his breath, then smiled. “wait— let’s go back to the studio. i just had an idea.” his voice softened, almost shy. “then we’ll go home, i promise.”

you nodded, because of course you would. because jeff buckley could drag you anywhere with just that spark in his eyes. and as he tugged you toward the studio, bags rustling, night humming around you, you realized there was nowhere else you wanted to be but following him back into the dark, back into the music, back into the little world that only existed between you and him.