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Gieve doesn’t particularly enjoy working at the convenience store that’s just a few blocks away from his rented apartment, but the tuition for completing a double major in music and literature can be costly like you wouldn’t believe. He’s good at what he does though – the manager of the store having witnessed first-hand how a line of high school and college girls had stormed into the store after school during the summer to buy ice-cream cones and fountain drinks just so that they could get a precious glimpse of the self-proclaimed starving artist.
The shop’s revenues spike up significantly since Gieve joins the staff, so there’s nothing that the manager can complain about, really.
Besides, the graveyard shifts can be surprisingly entertaining if his favourite customer comes in for a late-night shopping trip.
They first met when Isfan, shopping for a snack at the ungodly hour of 3 a.m. – which Gieve later finds out to be a quirky habit of his because Isfan thinks it’s the most peaceful and least stressful time to do emergency grocery shopping – accidentally spilled his poorly-balanced, steaming-hot instant noodles all over Gieve, who happened to be sweeping the floor at the time.
After a very long, horrified moment in which Isfan could only stare, the brunet immediately apologized, his concerned tone tripping words clumsily over his tongue as he asked the teal-eyed clerk if he was burned badly.
Gieve had reassured the man that he was fine, and then because Gieve was Gieve, and Isfan was simply too flustered and utterly clueless to Gieve’s usual antics so that he failed to notice the other man’s brightened eyes and mischievous smirk, he’s slightly taken aback when the clerk said, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to attract my attention by spilling hot liquids on me on purpose.”
Isfan froze, eyebrows raised at the clerk’s obvious attempt at flirting. But it was 3 a.m., and he was exhausted from working on his lab report about the causation of ontogenetic colour change in a tropical python, so he blinked once before replying in a naturally nonchalant tone, “Believe me, the only thing you’re going to attract with that giant stain on your shirt – which I’m still really sorry about – is your customers’ disapproving stares.”
“I thrive on any kind of attention,” Gieve told him with a bright and easy grin, as effortlessly as he had taken his shirt off behind the counter and put on a new uniform.
“…I can tell,” Isfan said after a small pause, his eyes – his painfully tired and dried out eyes, eyes that he no longer had the energy to force the direction of the gaze away from the source of danger – travelling along the man’s bare back turned towards him. His pale skin was lined with geometric tattoos that shift tantalizingly with the movements of his muscles and were all too soon covered by the shirt.
That was how they first met.
That had been about three months ago.
“Good even –– ” Gieve catches himself, checks the digits on the cash register and realizes it’s long past midnight, “––or rather, good morning, Isfan-san.” He flashes a toothy grin at the brunet, who looks about half-dead with his hair tousled from fingers running through it constantly in frustration and dark circles under his topaz eyes that can rival a raccoon’s.
“Rough night?” Gieve asks when Isfan merely gives him a nod and half-hearted attempt of a smile. It’s the final exams period for most college students after all, and Gieve knows for a fact that those who are in the sciences department have it especially hard.
“Lab and three finals, all within the span of three days,” Isfan replies as he piles his groceries onto the conveyer belt, limbs slow and heavy and eyes blinking tiredly as if it’s a struggle of will to remain standing on his feet.
“So you’ve come here in your time of need to seek comfort from me, huh?”
With expert hands, Gieve places the items – just the usual bread, milk, coffee (wait, make that three large jars of Nescafé instant coffee), two boxes of nutritional snack bars in peanut butter and sea salt and dark chocolate flavors (Gieve tries very hard not to make a face at that) – into the plastic bags and puts them on the counter with such incomprehensible speed for someone who’s working at one o’clock in the morning.
“I ran out of coffee at home,” Isfan says with a straight face.
“I can’t believe I’m worth less than caffeine,” Gieve pouts as he hands Isfan his purchases, their fingers briefly brushing against each other’s.
Isfan’s gaze on the clerk’s face lingers a little too long. It might just be a by-product of his exhaustion though, so Gieve tries to not pay it too much heed, though the intense topaz of the young man’s eyes are difficult to ignore.
“Hard to tell what you’re worth when we only ever exchange words over a convenience store countertop twice a week, isn’t it, Gieve-san?”
“Is that an invitation?” Gieve raises a thin brow, fingers drumming against the polished counter.
“Hell ends in three days’ time,” Isfan digs into his back pocket and pulls out a slip of paper, which he slams with utter determination, a little too loudly, on the surface of the worktop. “Call me then.”
Before Gieve can react, Isfan is already out of the shop, the chime of the automatic doors merrily announcing his departure.
Gieve picks up the crumpled piece of paper and unfurls it with careful fingers, and his eyes widen when he realizes that he has not misheard Isfan’s words after all, that the biology student has, in fact, given him the number and permission to call him up for a date in the near future.