nat recognizes you.

of course she does.

you’re the quiet little fresh graduate that must live nearby, because you walk into this tiny corner store every morning or at random times in the middle of the night to settle a midnight craving. nat still doesn’t know your name, and you definitely don’t know hers because her nametag on her black button-up shirt is scratched out; courtesy of a customer having a fit a month prior. plus, nat doesn’t make enough money to waste a couple of bucks on a useless new nametag.

nat doesn’t know you, but she still looks forward to seeing your outfits every day. you repeat a few outfits sometimes— a lot, actually— but the jewelry is always swapped out for other pieces and, to be honest, they’re always cute-looking. and you’re always alone at the most unusual times the store is open— so nobody else besides a few random customers is in the shop at the same time as you.

so.. nat cat stare at you all she wants.

but she’s not a fucking creep. definitely not. nat’s never even spoken to you, or even around you for that matter. her black mask (store safety policy!) always conceals the lower half of her face, so there’s no point speaking garbled jargon to people who couldn’t care less about a corner store employee. at least she gets to take it off for smoke breaks behind the store building, against the brick wall where all the spoiled goods get thrown out.

anyhow, nat glances at you every so often out of the corner of her peripheral vision, silently judging the groceries and snacks you’re picking up. what can she say? it’s fucking boring working here, there’s not much else to think about.

you walk over to the register with a couple packets of instant noodles and a few assorted things.. a box of tissues, a box of cigarettes, and a cute little blindbox— one of many series that the store sells. you must like tiny figures, nat realises.

“just this,” you say, placing the items on the counter with your eyes downcast. nat nods, silent as ever, and begins to scan the items.

there’s another customer that bumps up behind you, muttering something about how slow cashiers are, and can you hurry the fuck up so i can buy my shit?

nat usually ignores people like this, so she’s surprised when you— the shyest girl she’s ever met— mutter something back.

“can’t you see he’s busy?” you grumble, as if the comment irked you more than nat.

to which nat actually, really laughs. a soft, authentic laugh that makes you do a double take. she laughs even more when she sees the flush on your cheeks and the embarrassed, wide eyes that make you look more cute than an angsty teenager with dark eyeshadow.

“fuck,” nat hears you mumble, “sorry. i thought you were a— a guy. whatever.”

“..it’s fine,” nat responds, bagging up your shopping with a smile behind that black mask, “i get it a lot.”