18 year old Muichiro Tokito works as a cashier and experiences mental issues, mother issues, and is separated from his brother Yuichiro Tokito. He always goes to therapy to try and cure himself, but nothing works until he met somebody named Genya Sh...
After a whole day with Genya, the customer who always comes visit my store, night came and it was dark a bit. I saw him turn off the light and turn on the LED lights in the room. After all the talking, eating, and playing sports, I was exhausted and my legs were throbbing.
"There's only one bed." I said, confused.
"Uhm—" He blushed, turning away to face me. He knew there was no choice. "Just uh..."
"I can't sleep with you." I said sternly, walking toward the door. "I'm sorry."
"Y-yeah, yeah, I know." He rubbed his nose bridge.
"I'll go sleep on the couch." I said. "I have to go to work tomorrow early."
"U-uh yeah, goodnight, goodnight."
I closed the door behind me and I let out a deep sigh. I walked down the stairs and laid down on the couch, closing my eyes shut for the night. I do remember I have work tomorrow, and if I'm late, my manager would be angry at me.
—————
My eyes opened, sniffing to smell something similar to bacon and eggs, or it actually is. It smelt so good, and I stood up, walking toward the kitchen. I saw Genya again, he looked ready for the day. He turned around.
"You're still here?" He asked. "I thought you had work."
"I'm late, fuck!" I shouted and panicked. "I can't go to work like this!"
"Don't workers at stores wear whatever they want?"
"Doesn't look good, though.." I was wearing something similar to this:
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Well, maybe I could wear these but I have to wear an apron over it.
"Well uh- I made ya breakfast..." He turned back around, slicing watermelons. "If you're going to work, I'll eat it then."
I glanced at the clock, and realized I was so fucking late. "You can eat it, Gen."
"Did you just call me... Gen?" He asked. "A nickname?"
"I forgot your name." I rolled my eyes, sliding my feet into my slippers. "Well, I'm going now. Goodbye, Gen." I waved, my fingers waving like a butterfly.
—————
I pushed my bike into the bike rack, and I pulled the door open, entering my store.
I put on my light blue and white apron and then turned the sign to "open".
"Late again, Tokito." The manager said loudly enough for me to hear, and exited the counter to stock the shelves.
I facepalmed and I felt like collapsing. Right, I can't be perfect. Not as perfect as everyone else.
Ring, the door opened and a customer came in.
"Heya, what could I get you?" I asked, my eyes drooping because I was so tired. I let out a quiet yawn and my head felt like falling on the counter.
"You need more workers, Tokito." The man said. "You're always so tired and you're so slow."
"I'm sorry about that." I rubbed my eyes and I put on my gloves. "Need donuts?"
Yawn.
"You need to add more donuts." They said.
"Oh..." I smiled faintly. "My manager needs to restock..."
It was going bad. I was doing such a bad job, I was never like this. My customers might not like me.
Minutes later, the manager restocked the donuts as the man and I had a short conversation whether I should get more workers or not. Definitely yes, I'm the only worker here and I get so exhausted that I don't even know what I am doing.
—————
The man told me what donut he wanted.
"Definitely don't want to wait that long for donuts." He shook his head in disbelief, looking disappointed in me.
"Nobody would ever want to wait that long for such delicious donuts. Heh... best things in the world." I chuckled, handing him over the receipt and the donut box. "Looks like this is a... diet donut?"
"Greattttt." He laughed, snatching the box. "See ya tomorrow, Tokito."
"Alrighty!" I waved, with a wink. I gained some confidence after talking to that guy. That guy comes to my store as much as that Gen guy does.
Anyways, people around here now buys diet donuts. It cuts down fat content. I brushed my hands off, and took off my gloves, wanting to end my job right now as soon as possible, but I have 6 more hours of work.
I felt like throwing up to the point where I was gagging like crazy. I don't know whats wrong with me, but this has been happening every since Mother has been smashing alcohol bottles on me. I started getting cuts and scars, and yeah, it affected me mentally.
I got this job for my mother and I because we don't have that much money, and I always wanted to help her. Nobody will understand how drunk my mother is and how many drinks she took. She'll get dizzy and cause a tantrum. I take breaks outside my store, I just sit outside beside the bike rack and look into space, remembering what I would go through. ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀsᴇ.
