Date: October 13th
Time: 9:45pm
Location: Work
Mood: Meh
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Alone. That was where she preferred to be. Loneliness was something commonplace in her life. Generally seen as something that most people abhorred and avoided, to her the silence and solidarity was like a warm comfort blanket. Alone there were no eyes, no judgments and no one to fully look at the person she was and reject.

Y/n was shy. Cripplingly so. Talking to people other than her family was difficult, looking them in the eye almost painful. As much as socializing terrified her, inside was a compassionate heart. A person who would catch bugs and safely deposit them outside rather than take it's life. Someone who thought that every life had value in some way or the other, apart from her own.

She was the type whose temper had a long fuse, but when ignited burned hot, and yet was afraid of confrontation and would do anything to avoid it. A girl who preferred reading to watching television, not because she liked to read, but due to the fact that she loved to learn.

Other people's opinion of her mattered, but she wasn't aggressive enough to stand up for herself. She wanted to be left alone, but at the same time craved for attention and friendship.

She was lonely, sad, and felt trapped in her own body. In her point of view, there was no way to fix this, there was no work around when it came to shyness. She'd tried enough times to know that. This was who she was and that was it.

Being this way wasn't an ideal situation, but it had been her reality for as long as she could remember. Being exceedingly bashful was simply a part of her personality and therefore as life went on, learning to live with it was a necessary factor for survival.

More often than she liked, the stray thought of 'what would it be like to have friends?' would skit across her mind. But in reality she knew she couldn't do it. The occasional moments where speaking to classmates or customers at her part time job at the small convenience store was unavoidable, but even then it was excruciating.

For as long as she could remember the moment when she had to speak to others, an unexplainable rush of embarrassment would wash over her and heat would fill in every inch of her face, spread down her neck, and onto her chest. And that would lead to her tongue getting tied, sweaty palms, a racing heart, and the horrible twisting feeling in her gut as she became the most awkward person alive.

Even still, these certain factors in her life were not enough to bring her down. She had a good family unit at home. A protective older brother, a younger sister, a mother and a step father who was more of a real father than her 'real' father had been. She was healthy. Her grades were exceptionally good. Life was all aces!

Aside from the fact that speaking to 99.9% of the population gave her severe anxiety.

Hair grown long more out of the necessity to hide behind the curtain of it, rather than it being something she wanted, she was smaller than she liked for her age of 19. That was already enough to make her feel inferior without the social anxiety adding onto that.

Working out in the public and putting herself into face to face situations was the opposite of comfortable. But university did not pay for itself—even with the academic scholarship she has been blessed with enough brains to achieve. Her father was a car mechanic—a decent killing but not enough to be able to carry that burden without struggle. And her mother wasn't keen on going back to work until her baby sister was old enough to attend school.

So that was how she'd ended up applying to this place-a slightly run down, privately owned convenience store nestled right in-between two big brand named shops of the same likeness. The traffic was low and the work was fairly easy. Perfect for her ever present anxiety and quiet enough between customers that taking care of any school related work was a breeze.

One could only guess why the tiny store was still in business. Or on the opposite end of the spectrum, why it didn't accumulate more customers. Freshly ground coffee every hour and home made pastries were most likely the reason for it's longevity. But there's no accounting for taste. Sometimes people wanted the logo on their cups, regardless of the quality.

Currently settled behind the counter of this establishment, she plugged in her earphones and switched from song to song, trying to find the right one for the mood.

"-he say he hungry this pussy the kitchen-"

"-and hang him by his balls from the horn of a unicorn-"

"-FUCK THA POLICE-"

"-ass and titties ass and titties throw money 20s-"

"-I like money more than dick, that's a fact-"

"-pussy poppin', acid droppin', dope-headed guy-"

"-ya'll gon' make me lose my mind up in here-"

Her taste in music was obvious. Though she couldn't relate to any of the lyrics, never cussed, and had no particular interest in anyone's genitals, rap had a way of making her feel strong and powerful, bigger than herself and could fill her with a confidence like nothing else could. She was particularly fond of the female rappers. To make it in a male dominated genre was especially admirable. Listening to them gave her hope that maybe someday she could be that independent and as rap musicians put it: 'a bad bitch'.

She kept the volume down low in the case that a customer appeared, she would be able to hear them over DMX threatening to murder people.

Good thing too because less than a minute later, her gaze went up to the door when the sound of the chiming bell rang out across the empty store, signaling a new costumers arrival.

Blond, crimped hair and thick lips.

That was as far as her courage went. Looking any longer or observing closer would end in a slow death of embarrassment.

This was not an exaggeration.

At least, that's what she had convinced herself of. So quickly, her eyes were averted and back to the phone in her hands, quietly pulling out the earbuds so as not to seem rude.

The next few moments were blissfully quiet, but unfortunately spent while reading the news about some moronic internet challenge where kids were beating each other with baseball bats.

When a voice interrupted her reading much closer than anticipated, she flinched, nearly dropping the phone in shock. Eyes lifted to the male across the front counter, now leaning his elbows on the surface and resting his chin in both palms. He simply stood there like that, gazing intently in her direction. He was smaller than the average man his age but not unattractive.

Slightly chubby cheeks lent a softness to his features, while the plump lips and dyed blond hair gave him a mature and decidedly more attractive look. And now he was looking straight at her.

What was he doing? Reading people was not her strong suit as she'd never been able to look, or even hold eye contact for long. And speaking of.

Eyes blinked in his direction, once, twice, before reality set in and heat flooded her entire being. The same eyes that had blinked in surprise now darted to her hands, dropping the phone and fingers interlocking and fidgeting nervously.

Clearly, he was trying to kill her.

"How may I help you?" She barely managed to speak in the first place, and when her voice finally did come out it was barely above a whisper. For the millionth time in her life she cursed herself for being so bashful.

"Oh?" he sounds surprised, if not a bit curious.

Somehow she manages to force her eyes to his neck level, and even that threatens to kill her. Heart pounding in her chest, she hopes that he'll say what he wants already and leave so she can relax, but that seems to be the farthest thing from his mind.

In reality, she can't begin to understand what he's thinking when the next words come out of his mouth.

"You're human!" His voice had taken on a new tone now, one of excitement. From her point of view she can make out that he's smiling. "I hoped you would be human. My mom was human, too."

This comment only served to scare her more. Every person was a human. Now the thoughts of a suspicious and panicked mind rattled out every possibility in her head. Was this guy crazy? On drugs? Was he here to kill her? Attack her? Kidnap her and sell her organs on the black market? She might not be able to look him in the eye or hold any sort of conversation and be half his size—but she wasn't going down without a fight.

The tinkling of a bell signaled a new costumers arrival. Desperately she looked to her new savior, recognizing a mint-haired, quiet regular. He was the only costumer she felt fully comfortable with. Whether he was as shy as she or was simply unsociable, that much was unclear. On a normal day he'd come in, eat some ramen and spend a while gazing out the window before he'd leave, the only form of communication he'd share was nodding in greeting.

"Jimin!" She had never heard the short, mint-haired man speak, and that was why she was comfortable in his presence. "We've been waiting forever for you! What the hell-"

Before she had time to blink, this 'Jimin' had moved from sweetly gazing to turned with his back in her direction and standing in a defensive posture. She blinked. Defensive?

The next thing she knew, a frightening sound came out of him. Out of him? Her widened eyes shot from his back to the older boy, who had now halted halfway to the counter.

What was going on?!? Because surely she had heard wrong.

People don't growl. Humans definitely did not sound like wild animals.

But that was what she had just heard. She knew it, the mint-haired guy knew it, and the tiny man knew it.

The only thing unclear was why, and she definitely had no idea how to handle the situation.

The older man's eyes narrowed and neither of them even so much as blinked. Time seemed to stand still as the air got thicker with the tension.

It felt as if years had passed before the older boy finally sighed and began to back away.

Back away?!? What was he thinking, leaving her in here with a tiny, albeit cute, but ultimately scary growling man?!? If he couldn't handle him, what was she supposed to do with him?

She could only stare, mouth open in shock as Mr I'll-leave-you-when-you-need-me-mint-haired-guy left the store.

"Sorry. Did I scare you?"

Her attention shot back to the blond boy, who had now adopted a toothy grin, his crescent-shaped eyes displaying as much happiness as his mouth was. Their gazes interlocked for a split second before she quickly averted it once more, taking a deep and shaky breath. What was she supposed to do now?

The plain, laminate counter top proved to be easier to stare at but his presence still loomed, doubling the normal amount of anxiety and causing the grip on her fingers to increase. It wasn't like she could see him, but somehow she knew that when he spoke again that his smile had dropped. "Don't be scared. I won't hurt you."

That's what they all said, isn't it? Murderers didn't start off with, "sup, wanna die today?" No, making the victim comfortable would be the first goal. Unfortunately for him, uncomfortable was her official setting and as lonely as she was, cynical was her middle name.

Rather than replying, she remained silent, hoping on the off chance that he might simply lose interest and leave.

A finger came into view and she flinched before noticing that it was pointed to the employee name tag pinned to the front of her shirt.

"Your name is Y/n? Did I pronounce it right?"

Again she refrained from responding. But why wasn't he leaving? Usually by this point she'd have been called a freak and the other party would have moved on. This had happened so many times she had become numb to it. Y/n wasn't normal and she knew it, so really, it wasn't wrong. She was a freak.

"Look, Y/n, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. This, I can promise. I won't hurt you. I will never hurt you."

The conviction in the last few words provided her just enough boldness to nod in response. But he'd been looking at her for too long. It was bad enough having a shy disposition, but being the center of attention was unbearable. Her hands, now aching from the pressure they'd endured while being clamped together were uncomfortably clammy and her chest was beginning to ache. At this point, if he didn't back off, she was going to start hyperventilating and it wouldn't be pretty.

Thankfully, his next statement brought her a sigh of relief, while his tone was somber, almost heartbroken.

"I'll leave. I can see you're uncomfortable. Just...don't forget me, alright?"

That was next to impossible in her opinion.

The sound of his footsteps echoed across the linoleum tiles and her heart jumped for joy. He was actually leaving! Now that his back was surely turned, she looked up, but then immediately faltered when she saw that he was walking backwards, not taking his eyes off her for a single second.

"My name's Jimin, and I'll see you again!" and he was gone.

Again?!?

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Song list by order:
Megan TheeStallion-Cash Shit
Bad Meets Evil-Fast Lane
NWA-Fuck Tha Police
21 savage-a&t
Nicki Minaj-Rich Sex
D12-Purple Pills
DMX-Party Up (Up in here)

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Edited 6/23/22