synopsis: ̗̀➛ martin falls for the girl behind the register, but it was more like he was staring into the mouth of an open grave and stepping in willingly genre: ̗̀➛ fluff , thriller word count: ̗̀➛ 4.4k
author notes: ̗̀➛ martin jus wants someone , a little dark at the end , toxic relationship themes , manipulation , mentions of gore (nothing explicit obv) , mild body horror
the corner store's door slid open begrudgingly, as a contrastingly pleasant ping sounded above.
some over-played pop song crackled softly through the aging speakers.
"cool hair," said the girl behind the register.
martin's head jerked towards the sound, the sudden attention catching him off guard. under your steady gaze, his breath hitched and snagged in his throat like live wire. he didn't even notice your manager watching from the doorway behind you. martin's fingers subconsciously slithered up to the blonde-ish strands forming spikes on his head, as a smile forced its way onto his lips, like it was his equivalent of giggling and kicking his feet. he almost forgot to keep up his ‘cool, totally nonchalant guy’ image, his shoulders tightened and his lip quivered in its place. the mask slipped back into place clumsily and his hand crawled back into his pocket with a totally natural - and not at all rehearsed - swish.
he shyly muttered out a quick "thanks.." then, for the next couple of seconds, he wondered if his voice was always that high.
he stood in front of the fridge, as the cold air argued with his red cheeks. his eyes skipped across the many colourful options that were all competing for his attention. but the only thing he could actually focus on, was the feeling of your eyes on him. it didn't prickle on his neck, no. it felt more like red-hot lasers burning holes through his skin.
even as a new customer came and went, martin could still sense you following him.
he was so focused on not making a fool of himself, he practically blacked out. his hands were on autopilot as he reached for whatever was in front of him, not caring for the consequences of his choice in any regard.
and when he finally decided that 'casually hanging out' in the corner of the store was actually a little weird, he shuffled to the counter and placed the can onto the counter in front of you. an eyebrow raised in return, as you watched him fumble with his card with an amused smirk.
“all that wondering around just for a…” your voice trails off as you scan the drink with a beep “…watermelon red bull… interesting choice.”
once again, his breath caught in his throat. he tried to force something out, really tried, but all he could manage was an unintelligible mumble. your head gestured towards the vivid red can, the smirk only growing more prominent. he hummed a confused note, like all he was hearing right now was vowels and colours.
“i’m just teasing you,” you added, making it a point to match his bewildered gaze as he hesitantly tapped his card against the reader.
martin stared at the can, wishing it would talk back - maybe save him from his own awkwardness. but it just stared back at him with equal disinterest, sweating in the midday sun.
being the third wheel is never fun. but being the ninth wheel? that’s just depressing. martin learned that very quickly. how could he not? his friends and their girlfriends were everywhere at all times. martin’ at his locker? they’re chatting loudly beside him. martin’s studying in the library? someone’s learning more than literature behind him. at lunch, he’s closed off unintentionally, sitting in his own bubble… staring at a red bull can.
before he could start wishing the can would ask him out so he wouldn’t have to ninth wheel, a voice pulled him from his increasingly concerning thoughts.
“how come you still don’t have a girl, martin?” his friend drawled, his voice bordering on teasing. he huffed sarcastically in return, mumbling something about how he’s ’just not ready, yet.’
some people thought that — especially with his musical talent and ‘charm,’ he was able to sweep the girls off their feet. little did they know, martin was just as much of a loser as his friends perpetuated, and whenever he was presented with a chance, he’d embarrass himself.
martin set of the ping of the door again, as his converse squeaked through the corner store.
this time, he told himself that he would actually speak to you. no stuttering, no stalling. just a normal conversation between normal people.
that was, until, he wandered up to the register.
as soon his eyes met yours, he felt every thought leave his mind and every word died on his tongue. martin stood there, once again, staring like a deer in headlights.
you could've sworn he would've started drooling, if you hadn't snapped him out of it.
"another watermelon redbull? didn't think anyone actually liked these" you huffed, clearing the awkward tension with a flick of your hair.
martin shook his head, an embarrassed grimace spreading on his face.
"i don't-" he started, a little too quickly. "i mean, they're... alright."
before you could say anything else to make his cheeks heat up even more, he swiped his card and rushed out of the door.
martin's back hit his bedroom door dramatically, as a long sigh dragged out of his mouth.
'she definitely dosen't think i'm weird. no one does. you did great, martin.' he repeated to himself under his breath. he was totally cool.
so cool, in fact, that when he returned the next afternoon, he swaggered through the door with a new-found sense of confidence. his hands were stuffed in his jacket's pockets, his chin was perpendicular to the floor - just like every cool person.
but you weren't there. instead there was some middle-aged man with dark bags under his eyes and an even darker shadow above his lips and across his jaw. he must've been the manager, judging from the way he was logging new inventory at the register.
martin straightened up and told himself that it didn't matter... then he spun on his heels with a squeak, before the man could see him, and walked straight back out.
he made sure to come back every other day, to make sure he knew what days you worked.
everyday you weren't there, the manager stood in your place, as still as ever. as unsettling as ever.
he scribbled 'only wednesdays and thursdays' onto a sticky note, like he'd need it to remember.
every wednesday and thursday thereafter, he'd return with more confidence than the last time.
he slowly began to notice things. how your eyes lit up every time he shuffled through the store how the store's inventory never really changed, even as new items popped in and out of every other store. he noticed how your shoulders would noticeably relax, like you were comfortable enough not to use your 'highly trained, professional employee' persona.
"you changed your hair?" you commented a couple weeks later, noticing his hair wasn't carefully spiked this time. it was slightly more toned blonde and he let it fall onto his forehead and curl at his nape. he nodded, feeling a smile creep onto his face.
"yeah, you like it?" martin asked, already sensing your answer from the arch in your eyebrow. you scoffed sarcastically, "no." yet, you still reached for it and twisted it in your fingers before picking up the barcode scanner.
he hummed in amusement as he took his redbull into his hand as you handed it to him. martin added something as his eyes lingered on your name badge.
"still haven't asked for my name, you know."
you rolled your eyes, but complied anyway. martin answered with his full name promptly, smugness settling deep into his smirk. he didn't know when he got so bold, he was almost convinced that someone was taking control over his body.
"hi, martin" you greeted, his name flowing off your tongue so easily it sent a shudder through him.
martin joined his friends at their usual spot at the courtyard's round tables, where the sun dappled through the trees. martin was infatuated with his screen, and his friends' chatter muffled into the background of his mind. until there were suddenly a sharp crack of palms in front of his face, accompanied by a quiet, "earth to martin.."
"who could you possibly be texting." his friend, james drawled, his hands still hovering by martin's wide eyes. "come on, who's the new victim?" he pushed, his head cocking to the side with a sly smirk.
"why don't you fuck off for once, james?" he spat, with an unnatural bite that sounded too harsh to have come out of his mouth.
james pulled back as his eyebrows shot upwards, clearly caught off guard by martin's sudden outburst too.
martin blinked, slowly. his mask slid back into place with a shiver. he cleared his throat when he felt the awkwardness skip across his skin. "um... just the register girl." he murmured, avoiding eye contact.
james' eyes lit up with a prideful glint, and his teasing grin returned. his hand slammed into martin's back sharply, as the rest of the group cooed at him. "look at that, one redbull, and he's a changed man! got sick of being the ninth wheel, huh?" martin laughed along dryly, still getting over his out-of-character spurt.
a moth passes by and you were still stuck in his head. especially after he kissed you under the stuttering glow of the street lamps, with his back against the cool bricks of the store. while it was fleeting and inexperienced, it was so painfully tender - you felt the heat of his breath mingle yours, and the curve of his grin linger on yours. his hands grasped tightly onto your sleeves. the rest of the night, martin was floating in a daze, he wore a lazy smile and heavily-hooded eyes.
he texted constantly - to the point where his phone screen was imprinted into his corneas. though your replies were short and punctuated, it never seemed to stop his flow of blabbering. but you didn't seem to mind anyway.
it was a late friday afternoon at your house - around that time when the sun hung low in the horizon and turned the sky rich with amber hues. you were sitting by the window, which let the golden-rays highlighted the planes of your face and the detail of your irises. and he was staring, hard.
his knee bounced, as his fingers dug into your sweet-smelling sheets under him. he didn't know if it was the fact that his shirt was currently hanging off your shoulders, or if it was the way your voice sounded when you weren't competing with an annoyingly electronic-sounding song in the background.
either way, he was utterly captivated.
"you look fuzzier out here." you murmured, eyes squinting like you couldn't quiet make out where the edge of him ended and where the wall behind him began.
he noticed how you stilled a little and how the room's energy shifted slightly. his head ticked to the side with a short laugh, "what does that mean?"
"i don't know," you shook your head with a dismissive chuckle as you brushed a hand through your hair, ignoring the way it trembled a little.
martin forgot about that for a while, treating it like an off comment until it was later into the night. the moon hung in the sky lazily, like it knew it had nowhere else to be, the cicadas' chirps turned into white noise as the warty toads hopped in the grass.
you sat side-by-side on the seat on your back porch, as the street lights hummed above. everything felt peaceful for martin. he watched the insects buzz in circles around the lights.
martin fished his phone out of his pocket to record the scenery - particularly, a bug he'd never seen before. it was a passive habit of his, he enjoyed documenting the world around him. he loved how beautiful it was - how imperfect it was.
"its weird out here." you began hesitantly, as your eyes were focused on nothing in particular. "it's like everything is expiring, or something." martin's head turned towards you, his eyes flashing intrigue and his phone still recording. he stayed silent, patiently waiting for you to continue.
you sucked in a breath, turning to meet his gaze. your eyes searched his, almost frantically. your hands clasped together, as if you were in a business meeting.
"don't you wish everything could be sealed? like, preserved forever? you know, so nothing has to change?"
martin's eyebrows pulled together tightly. "why would i? food doesn't mean that much to me," he huffed a laugh, turning back to face the shadowy trees lining the back fence. he expected you to laugh it off as well, but as he sat there, your gaze burned into his profile, more intensely than the first time, it was like his skin was melting. his hand brushed over his cheek to make sure everything was still there.
"i mean, people - life." you added, your voice peaking unnaturally. that makes martin's eyebrow twitch up, as he glances at you through the corner of his eye. he felt a chill brush up his arms, but that wasn't from the evening breeze.
"do you?" he asked slowly, picking up on your sudden strangeness.
you became still. unwaveringly so. your eyes stilled on his profile, unblinking.
"i'd prefer it." you answered plainly, losing the playful lilt in your voice. "just think about it: no worrying about how you look, or if you're saying the right thing. no thoughts. just... static." everything you said flickered a light on in martin's head - maybe in that world, he could just relax, let down his guard. perhaps he would prefer that, too ...until you continued.
"we could just be sitting on a shelf forever and nothing would ever rot, we'd be preserved." as you spoke, each word sounded more rehearsed, and by now, your voice had completely lost that sense of easy sarcasm and character.
martin shifted on the chair uncomfortably, "doesn't that sound lonely?" he subtly made the space between you larger, until he was on the edge of the chair. your sharp gaze lingered, your eyes watered like you were fighting yourself to keep them opening. like if you blinked, martin would disappear into the pixels that were attacking your vision.
"it's only lonely if the inventory's low, martin." you urged closer, leaning into his space. that's when the lights buzzed louder, sounding more like the fridges at the back of the corner store. martin's eyes darted to the grass of the backyard that seemed to stretch into the store's yellow-stained tiles. his voice hesitated in his mouth, before he scrambled off the couch. "i-i better go, huh? it's getting late." he tucked his phone into his back pocket clumsily.
you stood up stiffly, stepping towards martin's much taller frame.
martin nodded quickly, stumbling over his own feet. the only way out was going through the house and back out the front door. with every hurried step he took he could feel you right behind him, yet you hadn't even left the porch. martin's shaky fingers reached for the door handle, only for it to fall straight through his hand with a static crackle and a flash of vibrant, ultra-violet light.
"where are you going, martin? we're open." your voice carried through the house and rung in his ears like you were right next to him. it sounded artificial - robotic.
martin's head spun. his lungs burned. his heart hammered a frantic rhythm as it tried to leap out of body. you were becoming unrecognisable. you glitched closer. one second - 3-D, then a pile of flickering particles that sizzled into martin's eyes. you were a walking broken signal. the air spiked with an electronic whirring that was piercing at its peak. he tried to bolt, but the floor caught him. his eyes snapped down. the ground was swimming around his feet, turning into a black, glossy sludge that popped viciously. the steam that swirled up from it smelt like burnt tires and sulfur. martin opened his mouth to shout for help but something crackled into his lungs and made his brain pulse until his vision closed in.
martin shot into the waking world. sweat covered his forehead like a slick, slimy second skin. his chest heaved as it tried to catch up with the breaths he just remembered to take. his gaze flicked around the room in a blur - the posters on his wall multiplied, the shadows stuck too thickly to the corners. as much as he wanted to believe that it was all a dream - a horrible, terrifying dream, the lie tasted bitter in his mouth.
he ended up back in his bed, tucked in so precisely, he couldn't have done it himself.
on his way to school, there was something echoing his name as he passed the corner store. something in the air curdled, yet it smelled crisp, too crisp. almost like the smell of aluminium. he felt it chill in his teeth.
something gravitational. something utterly inescapable. something that intercepted his brainwaves and made his converse walk him closer. the sharp, demanding - yet melodic voices promised a life of agony if he didn't give in. his head swivelled around, searching for a witness, but suddenly it was like the entire city had gone into hiding apart from him. an unfamiliar voice invaded mind as he crossed the threshold.
a teasing huff came from behind the register.
"god, you look rough. didn't sleep last night?" you called out, focusing on the cash in the register. "i basically had to drag you home, because you just ... collapsed. scared me, honestly." your voice was laced with something terrifyingly tender. your eyes weren't flickering particles, they were glassy, sarcastic, real.
he flinched harshly when he saw you. his hands tightened around the hem of his hoodie. everything he prepared to say died on his tongue.
"what?" he scoffed weakly; it was all he could spit out. his vocal cords jumped unexpectedly, the terror and confusion reddening the corners of his eyes. your head ticked to the side.
"... yeah, we were on the couch outside and all of a sudden you just ... fainted or something," you answered after a quiet beat, like it was the most obvious thing ever - and that martin should have remembered something similar.
"no. you were -" he tried to fight back, his hands gestured vaguely at nothing. "you - you weren't real, you were literally glitching in front of me. then i was - i was sinking. your door handle wasn't real. why are you pretending that you don't know what i'm talking about?" each word made his lips move faster and less emphatic. his face was starting to burn with exasperation that was quickly turning into outrage.
you nodded along, with that skeptical look - eyebrows raised, humming vaguely, like you found him wildly amusing yet pitiful. he saw it in the way your eyebrows turned upwards. it made it blood boil.
"i think you should cut down on the redbulls, martin" you added casually, leaning your forearms on the counter with a thud that further proved you were physically there.
"the caffeine's getting to your head" you whispered, tapping two fingers to your temple.
martin's eyebrows clashed together, as a frustrated sigh squeaked out of him and soon his hands dragged over his scrunched up face. he realised this wasn't getting him anywhere.
"why are you acting like this? i watched you tear apart." his voice crackled in his throat as if raising his voice at you was impossible, even if you probably weren't human anymore.
what confused him the most was the way you brushed him off so easily. just a sigh and nonchalance settling in the corners of your mouth.
what would make you believe him? it wasn't like there was anyone to back him up.
...until he remembered the indisputable evidence he had sitting in his camera roll. all he had to do was show you and then you'd tell him what you really were. he held it up to you unstably, an interrogating look shaping his face into a scowl.
the moment replayed just how he remembered. first the moths fluttering under the light of the streetlight, the cicadas chirped in the background. you made your comment about how everything felt like it was 'expiring'. but after he replied, your voice started to cut out. the video looped on a millisecond-long hum, and it repeated eerily until it stretched out into a long, mechanical whir. his phone started to heat up to impossible temperatures that would've burnt his hand if he didn't let it clatter on the counter. you gasped in unison. martin stared at the blisters blooming in his palm, still feeling the ghost of the heat attacking his flesh.
"i don't get it. what was that supposed to show me? that you need a new phone?" you commented after a heavy silence. you tried to force a laugh, but something in the way your face fell flat showed that there was a different emotion peeking through.
"...martin, what was that." your voice dropped to a low, cautious register that was tinged with real concern.
the fact that even you were unsettled only confused him more. were you trying to convince him you were human by taunting him, or was he genuinely losing it?
he laid awake that night, staring at a string of voicenotes from you, after his phone had somehow come back to life. you were frantic. out of character.
"no one will believe you."
"i'm the only one who can understand you."
before he could understand how, you became embedded in his brain. not just your voice, or the image of you, but your literal essence. you were controlling him from the inside.
weeks blurred by. each day, his mental state dwindled. the purple under his eyes bloomed harshly as he solely relied on watermelon redbull. it kept him awake, but not alive. the taste became more like battery acid every time his lips touched the aluminium can.
the only place he felt normalcy was the corner store, even though he knew it wasn't his will taking him there everyday, because the further from you he got, the more his life felt like nothing. less and less people waved to him in the halls, james stopped aiming fun at him, the teachers stopped calling on him. he thought it was nice in the beginning, but in reality, his existence was being erased from one brain at a time.
now, martin had more of you than he he had left of himself. that's when he knew, with sickening, yet comforting clarity, that there was no saving him now. like he was staring into the mouth of an open grave, and stepping in willingly.
martin had no idea what happened to your physical body. he soon realised that he'd rather not know. mostly, because he was losing the ability to care about anything he used to. now, his only goals were to keep the store stocked and clean, especially that thick, blackish sludge that seeped from the storage room in the back. it was becoming easier to lean into your voice, as his free will waned at the edges of his fraying sanity.
he stared at his reflection in the refrigerator door, carefully scanning the features that watched him so closely. he only saw you. the mask rippled as he blinked, like you enjoyed seeing him decay.
"go find me, martin." your voice was all-encompassing now. even if he wanted to, he couldn't deny you. he nodded blankly at your shared reflection, as his legs carried him behind the register, down the corridor, into the storage room in the back. martin was immediately struck by a foul smell. almost like the one he smelt a couple months ago - burnt rubber, sulfur. but there was something worse that lingered and stuck to the walls of his nose uncomfortably. something like curdled milk, or rotten meat.
still, he continued further.
the sounds of machinery and what sounded like liquid sloshing tingled in his ears.
variously-labelled cans travelled down an escalator in single-file.
one after another, they were filled with a mysterious - yet suspiciously red, viscous liquid.
martin stumbled back, briefly regaining autonomy as his back hit the stained tiles. your voice told martin to run. you told him that if he didn't get up, he'd regret it. but he was completely paralysed. drained. disorientated. his mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, then it was shoved into his airways.
his eyes watered, his throat tightened and his nails scraped the tiles.
"please," he begged as a hand grabbed the collar of his shirt. for what, he didn't know exactly. his life? his end?
"inventory's low. don't wanna leave the others lonely, do ya?" the manager - or, at least that was the manager -spoke. his face didn't quite meet the edges, yet the skin overlapped in strange areas, like they were parts of different people. martin was dragged over to a vat at the end of the line and held above it. his head fell forward, forcing him to see the miscellaneous items that floated to the top of the sludge that bubbled angrily.
a t-shirt, that looked like that one he lent you once.
it seems that he found where the stench came from.
his head was slammed into the side of the vat with a force that could've broken his skull. your reflection sparkled across the surface of the liquid.
"you look funny," you teased.
the door slid open as usual.
its customary over-played pop song buzzed through the speakers.
a group of teenagers laughed throughout the store, talking about nothing in particular.
james hovers at the fridges, shivering at the burst of cold air as he scanned each vibrant row of artificially-flavoured drinks. he tossed one around in his hand, reading the label with a shrug.
"watermelon? out of all the flavours?" his friend commented with a disgusted look.
james shrugged again. he couldn't explain it, but there was this strange pull towards the checkout.
"i don't know, feeling adventurous, i guess." he grins.
you were there, leaning on your elbows.
you took the can from his hands, your fingers lingering too a little too long.
"interesting choice," you smirked.
as you slid the can back over, a faint, muffled sound bounced off the inside of the can. something like a warning. martin's voice urged james to leave the can. but every word was futile because he had already fallen into the trap.
author notes: ̗̀➛ idk what that was either lmao. but like & reblog if u enjoyed!
taglist: ̗̀➛ @marsgirltyshi @jojotheunlcorn @chocom0ka @yeppiz
theartofmadeline
andulkaphoto
origamiaround
pixelskylines
stormborns
vaporwave
