⚠️WARNING!⚠️
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A/N: Mentions of drug use, Alcoholism, Smoking, Bad Influence for young audiences, Triggers, Self Hate/SA, Might be cringe??

You have been warned.

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"The shop is... ahhh... finally quiet..."

Blak stretched his arms over his head and sighed deeply, his body relaxing as he sank back into the worn chair behind the counter of his shop, The Blak Market. It had been another busy day, full of people demanding this and that, but now, it was calm. Peaceful. The kind of quiet Blak cherished most.

Reaching under the counter, Blak retrieved a small laminated sign that read: "On Break". With a satisfied grin, he hung it on the counter, then leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. He placed a rag over his eyes, blocking out the soft light from the overhead bulbs, and let himself slip into a few moments of quiet rest.

Finally, there was stillness. No noise, no interruptions, just the soft hum of a nearby fan. This is what I needed, Blak thought as he drifted toward a light sleep.

But that peace was short-lived of course.

A set of footsteps echoed in from the entrance, sharp against the quiet.

Oh, not now... Blak's eyes snapped open, his stomach sinking. He knew exactly what was coming.

The footsteps grew closer, dragging on and on until they came to a halt right in front of the counter. Blak glanced over the edge of his chair, half-expecting the person to turn around and leave after seeing the "On Break" sign. But of course, that never happened.

A few sharp taps sounded on the counter—tap, tap, tap-tap, tap. It wasn't random.

It's the signal, Blak realized. The one that meant business.

He let out a resigned sigh and pushed the rag off his face, sitting up. Slowly, he turned his gaze to the figure in front of him, a person he recognized all too well.

"So... you again?" Blak asked, his voice carrying a mix of weariness and annoyance.

The person didn't respond. They stood in silence.

Blak raised an eyebrow. "No talking today, huh?"

Still nothing.

Blak shook his head, not even bothering to hide his frustration. "Alright, whatever. If you're not gonna talk, I'm gonna get back to my break."

"How much?"

Blak blinked, surprised. "What?"

"How much?" the figure repeated.

Blak frowned, already guessing what the request was. "For what?"

"Molly," came the response, flat and cold.

Blak felt his gut twist. The request was clear—Molly wasn't just a name. It meant something dangerous, something that had caused trouble before. Still, Blak tried to stay composed.

"Kid, this is getting old. You don't want this. I don't want this. Do something else with your life." Blak's voice was soft, but the concern was real.

But the stranger didn't back down. They just stared at him, unwavering.

Blak sighed. He didn't have the energy for a long argument. "Fine. Twenty-seven Syunuer's."

The stranger didn't blink. He just pulled a small stack of sun-shaped coins from his pocket and placed exactly 27 on the counter, making the soft clink of metal fill the air. Blak glanced at the coins and, after a moment of hesitation, reached under the counter. He pulled out a small bag and measured out exactly 10 grams of the substance, sliding it carefully across the counter.

"There. 10 grams, just like you asked."

The stranger grabbed the bag without another word. There was a brief moment of silence between them before the figure finally spoke again.

"Thanks," the stranger said, their voice almost too quiet to hear.

Blak nodded, watching as the person turned to leave. Before they reached the door, Blak couldn't help himself. "One more thing."

The figure paused, glancing back at Blak.

"Don't do anything stupid," Blak warned, his voice low, though not unkind.

The stranger didn't respond, only nodded slightly before stepping out of the store, leaving Blak alone once more in the quiet.

Blak let out a long breath, slumping back in his chair. The stillness returned, but it wasn't the same. It felt different now, like something heavy lingered in the air.

Outside, the stranger walked down the street, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. The bag of Molly rested in the folds of his clothing, a weight he could feel with every step.

He put in his earbuds and cranked up the volume, letting the music drown out the world around him. The lyrics played loudly in his ears, a bitter reminder of what his life had become.

"I'm falling right down 
Then I'm losing my love 
When it's getting too hard 
I start giving it up

Man, I wonder what life 
Would be off of the drugs; 
I remember that year 
I never texted the plug. 

I had peace in my soul 
I had peace in mind; 
Living aligned 
So it hurts to rewind. 

Just to see where I've been 
Now to see what it's like; 
I forgot how to feel 
So I feel less alive..."

The music flowed through his mind, carrying him away from the present, reminding him of a past he couldn't fully remember, and a future he wasn't sure he wanted to face.