Midnight Convenience.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 VI | 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐄

━━━The siren like alarm went off, piercing the already heavy silence of in the dimly lit room.

M/N's hand shot out like some kind of instinctive reflex, slapping blindly at his phone until the screeching stopped. It felt less like waking up and more like he was in the middle of a car crash, every bone in his body begging to stay exactly where it was—under the covers, never to see daylight again. If he wasn't going to be late for his dead-end job, he'd just lie there. No one was counting on him, not really.

But no. Fuck no. rent was due. And his electric bill still had that gnarly red past due stamp on it. And the stupid convenience store didn't pay itself, so here he was, dragging his sorry ass out of bed like a shell of a human being.

"Fuck my life," he muttered, stumbling into the bathroom. The harsh bathroom light reflected the sad reality of his existence. His skin was pale, his hair like a sad mop that screamed "I don't care" at the top of its lungs. He looked like he was perpetually a few hours away from either a breakdown or a better life, whichever decided to show up first.

He took a deep breath, trying to look alive in the mirror, but it didn't work. Not even the sharp angles of his jaw could make up for the bags under his eyes, the exhaustion that had rooted itself deep in his bones.

"God, I look like a B-list actor... but without the paycheck," he muttered, his voice hoarse from a lack of sleep.

After a shower that felt more like a cruel joke than an act of hygiene, M/N pulled on his usual getup—a pair of black jeans, a gray shirt that used to be black, and a jacket that looked like it belonged to someone who wanted to look cooler than they actually were. He tossed some granola bars into his bag and grabbed a half-drunk bottle of water. Breakfast of champions—if the champion was the personification of bad decisions.

Budkitty, his indifferent cat, was passed out on the couch, looking like it owned the place.

M/N leaned over to scratch the back of its ears, but the cat didn't respond. It was too busy pretending that it didn't need M/N at all, even though he was the only thing standing between it and an empty food bowl.

"Hey, lazy furball," M/N muttered. "I hope your nap's more productive than my day."

Budkitty, of course, just blinked slowly, and M/N was certain the cat was judging him. He gave it a small nudge and grabbed his keys.

The walk to the convenience store was as mundane as his existence. He passed by a bunch of people—everyone looking like they were trapped in their own little hamster wheels, running endlessly without any hope of getting out.

M/N didn't know if he was one of them or just stuck in his own version of purgatory, but he wasn't in the mood to think too hard about it. He had no real direction, just a vague hope that something, anything, might break the monotony.

He arrived at the store, the familiar smell of stale coffee and cleaning products hit him as soon as he stepped inside. It felt like he'd never left. Mr. Park, looking as miserable as ever, barely spared him a glance as he waved a hand toward the back of the store.

"You're late," he grumbled, barely looking up from his stack of papers.

M/N rolled his eyes. "Traffic," he lied. There was no traffic at 6:00 p.m., but it didn't matter. The guy was going to complain no matter what.

"Restock the ramen," Mr. Park grunted, flicking his wrist like he was shooing a fly.

"Yeah, yeah," M/N muttered, heading to the stockroom. Another night of stacking cans and pretending like he wasn't just waiting for the end of the shift. He grabbed a box of ramen and started restocking the shelves, the steady rhythm of it all almost hypnotic.