𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 | 𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐨𝐧

𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃

(𝗒/𝗇)'𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾

to be honest, i didn't know exactly what time mike was referring to when he said he would pick me up, so for now i guess i'll just periodically listen in for the sound of his car.

but for now, i wanna explore a bit. ever since i moved here from france in 1912, i had more emphasis on traveling to parties across the country. so i never really explored the town i live in.

i completed all my morning tasks and threw on a band shirt over a striped long sleeve shirt. i wore ripped black skinny jeans, and pulled on my doc martens before heading outside.
i had already put on some makeup to hide my heavy eye bags, and so i looked more like a young grunge woman in her 20's than a bloodsucking organism that thrives in the dark.

it was pretty bright out, so i grabbed a pair of sunglasses from my bag as i decided to buy a pretzel from the bakery. i didn't need to eat food, but it reminded me of german nostalgia.

i walked around a bit before getting bored and entering a local arcade. there were a lot of kids running around in the fluorescent lighting. the sound of claw machines, mechanic basketball hoops, and children's laughter had filled the air. in a way, it had reminded me of freddy fazbear's pizzeria, an older restaurant chain from the 80's. but that place had smelled like pee and grease, so this arcade is much better.

in the distance, i heard the sound of tires pulling into the driveway of my apartment complex.

i had sped outside as fast as i could towards my apartment. i had made it there just as mike opened his car door to get out.

"hey!" i greeted him as i walked towards the passenger seat.

"hey," he smiled as he closed his door and i entered. the time was 2:12, so i managed to spend 4 hours around town without acknowledging it.

he began driving to the mall. we made minor conversation, but i was pretty interested in just staring out the window.

we soon pulled into the parking lot as i followed mike inside the mall.

"why is there a bar inside a mall?" i asked. "it just doesn't seem like a good pair."

mike shrugged. "probably to get drunk people to go spend their money."

"yeah," i agreed.

mike and i both took the escalator up to the second floor, where there was a small section of stores beside a bar. there were older men betting on sports, kids who had just turned 21 trying all sorts of alcoholic beverages, and a group of five young men sitting at a table.

"that's them," mike said as we both walked over to the table.

"hey guys. this is (y/n). she's been working the nightshift since schmidt got moved to the day shift." mike said as he introduced me.

a collaboration of 'hey's and 'hello's were spoken from the group.

"that's mike schmidt," mike said, motioning to a man roughly 26 years old with fluffy brown hair and ice blue eyes. schmidt wore a blue collar shirt and jeans.

"hey," schmidt greeted himself.

"hi," i smiled.

"that's jeremy fitzgerald," mike pointed at a skinny boy who looked freshly 21. jeremy had fluffier brown hair than mike, and had mocha eyes. jeremy wore a long green sweater and had drawn on small question marks under his eyes with eyeliner.

"h-hello," jeremy greeted, waving shyly.

"hi jeremy," i greeted back.

"that guy over there is fritz smith," mike motioned to a chubby ginger man who wore thick framed glasses. he wore a black collar shirt with jeans.