Your P.O.V.

     Another day, another highly-taxable $7.50 an hour. At 10 hours a day, it wouldn't be so bad if Joja Mart didn't feel entitled to over half of it. You had been working at Joja Mart ever since they'd recruited at your highschool. And, boy, was that a mistake. They'd spoken of career opportunities, great coworkers, great managers, customizable work-spaces, unique resume experience, and so much else. They hadn't mentioned that to make it a career, you have to know people. That to have personable relations or be able to change your work space without repercussions, you had to receive one of those impossible promotions. And they hadn't mentioned that once you got in, there was no getting out.

     You were fried, to say the least. You were sure that your hair was starting to fall out more quickly and - was that one grey?! Joja was taking its toll and there really wasn't much that you could do. You trudged onward, looking forward to retirement - if that existed, and looking forward to getting home at 8:30 and being able to rest. 

     So, as you were recalling, this was just another day with crummy pay. You were walking to the restroom. There were actual schedules of when people could leave their desk to go to the restroom and only the number of people who could go in the same restroom without a line could leave at the same time. You hadn't been able to sleep the night before because of all of the noise and lights of the big city. You knew you should be used to it but for some reason it still got to you, some nights more than others. Suffice to say, you had your head down and you weren't waking as straight as you otherwise could have been and ran smack-dab into someone in a raggedy hoodie who reeked of booze. You looked up and started to apologise profusely to this tall, pale stranger with purple hair and 5 o'clock shadow. Well, 9o'clock shadow. When was the last time this guy shaved? He glared at you and you shied away from him and continued on to the restroom.

     Weeks passed without incident until another restroom break. Ever since that incident, you made sure to pay attention no matter how tired you were. Still, someone managed to run directly into you, knocking you off into a side hallway. You looked up at the person in a disgruntled and crabby way and were taken aback. It was the same man,

"H-hello?" You whispered, unsure of what was going on.

"I'm Shane," He replied. "Neither of us can be gone long, or they'll know but.. I'm sorry for how I glared at you and I - this is dumb. Well, I wish I had more time to explain. Here's my number. Please call me after work. I really look forward to hearing from you," And as soon as he had been there, he was gone. You looked down and to your surprise there was a crumpled and beer-stained paper in your hand with seven digits on it. You were frozen. What had just happened? You knew you hadn't imagined it because the paper was there in your hand. What had just happened? You were struggling to think anything else when an alarm started blaring and a disembodied voice boomed over the system,

"WORK SPACE 6975C IS EMPTY. WORK SPACE 6975C RISKS TERMINATION IF IT IS NOT FILLED WITHIN 30 SECONDS. COUNTDOWN BEGINS NOW.

30

29

28," You shoved the paper into your pocket and rushed to your work space. You arrived at the 15 second mark and a manager was standing there, waiting for you. You gulped,

"Where were you, 6975C?"

"Forgive me, I have indigestion,"

"If it happens again, you will be terminated." You nodded,

"Yes, sir. I understand, sir,"

"Get back to work immediately,"

     When you returned home you immediately started to undress for a shower. As you did so, a crumpled paper fell from your pocket and the memories of why you had nearly been terminated came flooding back to you. You set the paper on the sink and quickly took a hot shower. As you dried your hair and slipped into your pajamas, you began to punch the numbers into the phone. It rang twice before you heard a familiar, gravelly voice come through from the other end, 

"Hello?" You hesitated,

"Shane?" You asked. You heard movement,

"You called!" He exclaimed.

"W-well, y-yes," You stammered.

"I'm glad. Hey, was that you missing from your workstation? I'm so sorry. I caused that, didn't I?" Something about his conversation eased your mind and you sat down and relaxed slightly,

"That's alright. It isn't your fault that I stood there like an idiot after you left until they called for me over the system."

"You just stood there?" He sounded surprised,

"I was absolutely flabbergasted. You'd stared at me like you were going to kill me when I ran into you and then you introduced yourself and gave me your number. My brain just couldn't process it." He chuckled nervously,

"I'll admit that it wasn't the best way to approach it, but I really didn't know how else to go about it." You nodded and then remembered that he couldn't see you,

"Well, I'm (Y/N)." You figured that introducing yourself was the next step that made any sense and he chuckled again,

"Hi, (Y/N). I'm really glad you called. Would you be willing to meet me outside of work this weekend?" You thought about it for a moment and discovered that, for some odd reason, you were willing.

"You know what? Yes. That sounds good. When and where?" You asked.

     The two of you discussed details and work and the horrors of Joja until much later than was really reasonable. You woke the next morning, still on the couch with the phone in your hand, and could hear gentle snoring coming from the other end of the line. You chuckled and switched it onto speaker as you began to get ready for your day. You'd never before worked toward the weekend so avidly.

Shane's P.O.V.

     Thursday and Friday have never felt longer. The chime signaling the end of the work period Friday sounded like heaven's gates opening and I rushed home and waited by the phone. (Y/N) liked to shower and get dressed for bed before talking on the phone, so they always called me to allow them time for that.

     It seemed like absolute ages before the phone rang and only moments before I was waking early Saturday morning, the phone line still connected to (Y/N). I smiled and put the phone on speaker as I tidied myself up to meet them in person.

Your P.O.V.

     When you entered the coffee shop, you could see the man you knew to be Shane watching the door expectantly. As soon as you walked through the doors he walked quickly up to you and embraced you, surprising you. You chuckled and returned the gesture. Instead of booze, he smelled of aftershave. His face was smooth-shaven, at least it looked that way. And his hair was definitely brushed. You smiled at the charm of it all as he led you back to the table at which he had been waiting for you, and pulled out a chair for you. In the chatter you barely noted when the waitress came to take your orders or when things arrived.

"Are you going to let your beverage get cold or should we take a moment to try our drinks?" He asked at one point. You looked down and were surprised to see your drink sitting in front of you. You blushed heavily, 

"I-I didn't realise," You managed. He chuckled,

"Neither did I, until just now,"

     Your chatter continued until a waitress came over and informed you that the shop was closing and you'd have to pay and leave. The two of you did so reluctantly and spent much of the night walking lazily down the overlit streets and talking about anything and everything before he walked you home early Sunday morning and you rested for work on Monday.

     Things continued on like this for a couple of months. You'd fall asleep on the phone every night after your shower and whoever woke first waited for the other and you chattered until you had to leave to go to Joja. On Saturdays, you'd meet at the shop as soon as it opened, order your drinks, and stay until close. Then you'd wander the city streets until the sun started to paint to sky orange and pink, at which point Shane would walk you home and you would sleep until work on Monday. It was the happiest you had ever been. You were even starting to have a positive outlook on your Joja job, and your manager seemed to be noticing. Things were really looking up.

     After your Thursday night shower, you dialed Shane by memory, just like you had every night for the past four months. As soon as you put the phone up to your ear, you said hello, knowing he would be waiting by the phone. Only, instead of being met with the gravelly voice you'd come to sink into every night, you were met with a sharp, metallic ringing. He hadn't picked up. You sat there, dumb-founded until Shane's voice came through the phone in a cold tone you'd never before heard from him,

"Don't bother leaving a message. There's a reason I didn't pick up,"

The cold recording was followed by a beep. You sat in shocked silence until a robotic voice gave you options of what to do with your message. You clicked the line closed and redialed. Again, it rang until you were met with the heart-shattering message. Your voice was shaking violently but you left a message, anyway,

"H-h-hi, Shane. It's me, (Y/N). I-I know your recording says not to - " You drew in a quavering breath, " - not to leave a message but I just. I just wanted to make sure that you were alright," You said. You closed the line, knowing that the message would send automatically if no other option was chosen. You called once more, figuring that the third time was a charm, but were still met with harsh, metallic ringing and Shane's cold voice. You clicked the line closed before you could hear his cruel message and laid in bed with your eyes wide, staring at the ceiling all night long. What had you done wrong? Did you say something? Do something? Not say something? Not do something? Was he hurt? What was going on? 

Friday night was the same.

Saturday he wasn't at the coffee shop. You stayed all day. The waitress that was always there gave you your usual beverage on the house. You drank half of it, so as not to seem rude. She was hesitant to kick you out at closing, but as soon as you could sense things were shutting down, you got up from your usual table and went home. You called thrice. You were met with shrill ringing, and a cold message thrice. You laid awake in bed all night. 

Sunday night you called

Dial

Sharp ringing

"Don't bo-"Click

Dial

Sharp ringing

"Don't bo-"Click

Dial

Sharp ringing

"Don't bo-"Click

You let out a harsh sob. Then another. And another. Soon sobs were wracking your entire body as you finally felt the pain take over everything. You sobbed all night through until morning.

Monday night you called again and were met immediately with a robotic voice,

"The number you have dialed is no longer in service. Please try again," Dial tone.

You sat in shock. What was going on? Where was he?

You continued like this for months. You only slept when complete exhaustion took over and forced you and you only ate when the waitress at the coffee shop brought you something complimentary. You always tipped her in gross excess. Your manager clearly noticed the change, and was no longer so fond of your work. You were sure that soon you would be terminated and you welcomed the freedom you hoped that would bring.