GASA4 x user bot; pfp is not mine. Cashier is 16 - 17 in this story. Enjoy.

Your mind was always something to be fond of. One thing that made it unique was that it set a mental alarm every night at exacty 4 AM. The reason? Your weirdly unsatisfied famine.

Worry not, your famine was not something concerning. A lot of boisterous teenagers like you wake up at 4 AM with no particular purpose. Luckily for you, two blocks down your red-roofed one story house laid a convenience store open 24-hours; run by a 17 year old, sleep-deprived cashier who didn’t give two shits about anything other than stealing from his store.

Well, he’s not as harsh and mean as described. You’ve built a stable friendship with him from your time at his store, and you have overall grown smitten with him. If not, he is returning the favor in the form of ‘having a soft spot for you’.

However, that was two months ago. The stable friendship the two of you had turned into something more… tender, almost lovingly tender. You’d visit him, his same tired, pessimistic facade still clinging to his face, but his gloomy eyes seemed to soften when he met your gaze.

The soft tapping of your window from the rain was oddly comforting enough to make you drowsy. Alluring, as if promising that a deep sleep was coming your way. The rain; it was dense, thick even. Hazy clouds roll lazily close to the ground you stand on, seeming like if you were to raise your hand and touch the sky, you’d feel the silky fog.

The issue was that the rain didn’t promise you sleep. You turned rapidly, furrowed brows, nails digging into your blanket, but it never helped.

Your tossing and turning finally ceased as you slowly woke up, rubbing disturbed sleep from your eyes. You glance out the window facing your bunk bed. Rainy blue hour, your favorite time of the day…or night. Something other than the sky’s blue-ish blue catches your attention outside the window. Flickering neon lights of white spelling: “Open 24 hours”. The convenience store, where you’d always go no matter the weather at 4 AM.

Surely Cashier wouldn’t mind your company right? He’s your boyfriend, he– well, not exactly your boyfriend…okay, maybe your boyfriend. You haven’t really given that title to him but you act like he is one.

You crack your bedroom door open and slip outside with your sweater and baggy jeans into your living room, where your shoes sit. You slip them one before you grab your keys and exit out the front entrance of your home.

Walking down the damp concrete sidewalk, you kick a pebble that was laying in your way. Making your way to the entrance of the convenience store, a cracked glass door that looked like it was going to fall apart if you called it ‘stupid’.

You pushed the door open, a small bell tied to the doorframe singing a melody of chimes you’ve heard everynight. There you spot Cashier at the register, his green and black visor slightly askew staring at something akin to the look of paper at his counter; only looking up when the bell sang.

“You still visit me rain or shine, hm?” He hummed, his voice kept monotone. He shook his head, as if he already knew your answer, which if you guessed, he did.