for those accustomed to a regular nine-to-five schedule, the concept of working at night was a somewhat undesirable one. understandable, of course - the hours were long and antisocial, and one would be expected to become temporarily nocturnal for a week or so. the average working american perhaps had a partner, or children to go home to in the evening; a home-cooked meal waiting to be devoured after a long, hard day at the office before turning in for the night in preparation to repeat the same routine all over again the next morning, and the one after that. aven; however, could never fathom what was so desirable about said nine-to-five schedule. prior to graduating high school, aven vowed that he would never follow in the footsteps of his mother; working her ass off for minimum wage in a thankless sector. it wasn’t that he was ashamed of his upbringing - quite the opposite, in fact, but he could never quite figure out what he wanted to do. he desired something different to those of his school peers choosing to devote the first few years of adulthood to a degree that he knew he wasn’t smart enough for, and perhaps it was the unpredictability of each working day during his time spent across the pond that fuelled this desire to do more, to experience more. that was the funny thing about ambition, though. sometimes failure was to be expected. seven months ago to be exact, aven had learned to accept failure, and accept the cold, hard truth of the fact that, despite running to escape the norm, he had still wound up working his ass off in a thankless sector. ironic, really. still, he didn’t dwell on it. instead, he had started to (re)build a life for himself that, although wasn’t what he had strived for - and it definitely wasn’t desirable to that average working american with a partner and children, and a nine-to-five office schedule - it worked for him. as it turned out, the good ol’ staten island born-and-bred gardner status quo wasn’t all bad.
nights at the gas station were total bliss as far as aven was concerned. sure, perhaps sometimes he did miss the unpredictable chaos that he had grown accustomed to for so long; however, unsociable hours served as an escape and - aside from the buzzing of the refrigerators or the cheap television that posed as background noise - offered a period of silence to chill out. well, it had done. up until a little while ago, it was rare for aven to serve even a single soul at this time of night; a quick pit stop from someone travelling out of state at the most. harrison; however, had become something of a regular. aven couldn’t quite recall his first interaction with harrison from the top of his head, though it was a given that harrison had made some sort of obscure comment or observation nevertheless. a peculiar character he was; however, there was something about them that aven had grown to like, and with that, the ringing of the doorbell at the same time each night, give or take, had become a unique part of his working routine. as if on cue, the door made its point of announcing harrison’s presence with its usual ding! though, not that he needed assistance with such a thing; their greeting that followed echoing across all four walls of the small structure. peering over the page of the newspaper that he was perusing a moment prior, aven’s gaze follows the familiar tuft of curls sticking up over the top of the shelves as harrison makes a beeline for the counter. “ s’up, man. ” he greets in response, folding the newspaper over and tossing it somewhat carelessly onto the surface between him and his night-time visitor. “ same old, same old. ” aven shrugs with a yawn, stretching his arms up behind his head. “ oh, before i forget— ” he pauses mid-sentence, leaning over to reach into a box that was tucked underneath the counter. “ —don’t say i ain’t good to ya. ” he presents harrison with a couple of packets of little debbie cake bars. “ we got a whole new box in today. i ain’t snitchin’ if you won’t. ” a slight chuckle follows his comment. “ how’ve you been, anyway ? ”
( ─── :: it was a sign of a deeper problem that harrison was there at such an ungodly hour of the night, likely running on only a few hours of sleep from the night before. but that was how it always was when he was going through periods like this ── harrison didn’t need sleep, they would insist to anybody who told them that they did. sleep was wasting valuable time that they could be spending doing other, more important things : they had school work to attend too, and work emails to catch up on, and friends to see, and dates to go on. there was a whole world of opportunities out there for them to grasp ; why on earth would he waste his time laying unconscious for a third of his day ? harrison failed to acknowledge ( or even really see ) the heavy toll that losing out on that much sleep had on his mental health ── how it made them more irritable, or impulsive, and how mental breakdowns were all too close at hand over the smallest of inconveniences. harrison would go, go, go ! until he would eventually crash. no amount of therapy or medication was able to completely eradicate the impact that the imbalance in his brain on his day-to-day life.
for the moment, however, harrison believed they were happy, and that’s what mattered to them. what was life, if not to be enjoyed ? they had spent long enough of their time being miserable ── they didn’t need to feel that anymore. they avoided thinking about the negatives their impulsive behaviour would have on their life later ( that was for consideration during therapy ) and instead focused on how excited they were to visit their newly found, late-night gas station buddy. very few people were able to tolerate harrison’s obscene and strange behaviours without batting an eyelash, but aven had never questioned them. it was appreciated. so as he produced the snack cakes from beneath the counter, harrison couldn’t help but hide the grin that formed across his features at the kind gesture. " why would i snitch ? i get the better end of the deal. “ harrison insisted, reaching out to take the gift. flipping open the bag that was draped over his shoulder, harrison dumped the treats into it ── they would likely be forgotten in there until a later date by which they dumped everything out onto their bed and were shocked at the melted, gooey mess that had become of them, but for now they were safe inside. leaving one on the counter to snack on during their visit, harrison hoped over the counter, landing on the other side with a triumphant hum.
“ i’ve been great ── just the usual, you know. i got tired of staring at floor plans so i came to visit you ── oh ! that reminds me, “ harrison patted down the pockets of his long coat. fumbling to pull off his gloves as he hunted for his return gift ── he finally produced a tiny token from his pocket. “ i found this on the street like, just that way. it made me think of you. i think it’s from here. “ nodding their head, they pushed it across the counter with their middle finger. “ i don’t drive, and don’t frequent gas stations, except this one ── i’m not cheating on you ── so i don’t know what it is, but i thought i would return it home. “ punctuating their point with a firm nod, they jumped up onto the chair that was definitely meant for employees, but they had claimed for themselves. “ keep it safe. it’s a hard world out there for a little token. all those boots that step on you ? seems painful. “
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