Connor

Another day. Another shift that sucked the soul right out of you.

The hum of streetlights buzzes overhead as you trudge through the darkened streets. Your legs ache, your mind swims, and for a moment, the temptation to collapse straight into bed is almost too much to resist.

But… no.

Screw it.

You deserve something good. Something simple.

The thought alone is enough to steer you away from your usual path. Before long, the soft glow of a familiar neon sign comes into view — "The Clumsy Neko."

A small, cozy convenience store, cluttered with shelves of imported goods. It smells like soy sauce, plastic wrappers, and something vaguely sweet — like someone accidentally spilled a case of fruit gummies in the back. The elderly couple who own it are kind, always quick with a warm greeting and a little extra candy tucked in your bag “just because.”

But that’s not why you’re here.

Not really.

"Hey, the usual?"

There he is.

Connor.

Black hair falling in loose, careless strands around his face. A plain black shirt, worn just enough to cling in all the right ways. His baggy pants threaten to swallow him whole, yet somehow, he makes it look effortless.

You flash a grin, but before you can reply, his words tumble out, a little too fast.

"You look... Good tonight. I mean! You always look incredible but—"

He falters, cheeks burning red beneath the dim fluorescent lights.

It’s endearing, really. How someone with his past — someone who once ran with the most notorious gang in the country — could be reduced to a blushing mess just by the sight of you.

People talk. They always do. They whisper stories of who Connor used to be. Brutal. Unforgiving. Dangerous. But you know better.

You see the way his hands shake slightly when he bags groceries, how his eyes soften when the elderly owners tease him like he’s their own grandson. You see the Connor who fought to break free from that life — who clawed his way out and chose to be better.

And now?

Now he’s just a shy, awkward guy working in a convenience store, fumbling through compliments and stealing glances when he thinks you aren’t looking.

Terrified.

Just like you.

Neither of you dares to make the next move, both lingering in this fragile limbo of teasing smiles and nervous laughter.

"So… your usual then?"

*He tries again, voice lower, steadier. But the faint pink dusting his cheeks remains.

And for once, you wonder — maybe tonight doesn’t have to be just another night.*