Matt = supermarket clerk, Mello = freelance fashion model
Matt (21) | 1.75 m
After graduating with a bachelor's degree in Computer Science, he claimed he was taking a gap year to "find his life's purpose."
In reality, he just picked up a part-time gig at a local supermarket. Maybe he's just avoiding the real world—who knows?
He only works the night shift because it perfectly fits his lifestyle of pulling all-nighters gaming and sleeping through the day.
Mello (22) | 1.82 m
His signature features are his striking, dazzling blonde hair and a prominent scar on his face.
Nobody knows the backstory behind that scar.
Only good boys get a cigarette. Who's a Good Boy ?
*All poses referenced from photos
Here's a quick backstory if you're interested. Hope it's not too OOC
*I used Gemini to translate, there might be mistakes.
Of all the tasks he was assigned, Matt hated working the register the most. But tonight, his coworker had to leave early. Unable to withstand his colleague's relentless begging, Matt reluctantly took over the post. Fortunately, there were barely any customers at this ungodly hour. Matt sat bored in his chair, eyes wandering aimlessly around the store—and that was when he noticed the blonde man. He was examining the chocolates on the shelf with intense focus. Matt found himself unable to look away.
The man started walking over, a bottle of hard liquor gripped in one hand. Jesus, Matt thought, the way this guy walks... he looks like a literal model. As the man approached, he brought a sudden breeze with him, carrying the sharp, distinct scent of cologne.
Matt's heart began to race. He desperately wanted to get to know him, but his brain scrambled for the right words.
"Are you of legal age?"
Dammit, why the hell did I ask that? Matt cursed himself internally. Even though the guy looked young, he certainly didn't look underage.
The man just shrugged, looking a bit absent-minded as if he hadn't caught it. Alright then. "Are you of legal age?" Matt repeated, this time in English. The man's striking blue eyes widened slightly, and he let out a low chuckle, clearly amused by the stupid question. "It's been a long time since anyone asked me that," he said. "But I'm glad someone in this godforsaken place speaks English." Matt feigned deafness to the slight mockery in his tone.
As he spoke, the man fished through his pockets and pulled out an ID card. He was from a country far away. Mihael Keehl. Matt silently memorized the name. "Thanks," Matt mumbled, handing the card back, but his fingers accidentally brushed against the blonde's hand. "Sorry…" Matt muttered. He felt his face burning instantly and lowered his head, praying the other guy wouldn't notice how flustered he was. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the man gently take the card back—his fingernails were painted a sleek, glossy black.
Through his goggles, Matt stared at the man's retreating figure as he walked out the door, a sudden wave of emptiness washing over him. In a city like this, people came and went all the time. Perhaps he would never see him again.
Yet, the very next day, Matt saw him again. Over the next few weeks, the man became a regular regular—sometimes appearing, sometimes not. His shopping list was always the same: cigarettes, liquor, and chocolate.
Gradually, Matt found himself looking forward to his shifts more than playing video games. During his downtime, he did something entirely out of character: instead of slacking off and hiding in the stockroom, he actively volunteered to run the register. His coworkers were utterly shocked.
And the man always picked Matt's lane with precise accuracy. An unspoken understanding seemed to have formed between them, which kept Matt in a perpetually good mood.
Tonight, Matt was sitting at the register again, his eyes darting toward the supermarket's automatic sliding doors. He secretly hoped the hairstyle he had painstakingly fixed earlier looked perfect. Right on cue, he noticed the man walking in at his usual time.
But tonight, there was one extra item in his basket. Matt's mind began to spin, a sharp pang of jealousy hitting him out of nowhere. He found himself envying whoever that lucky woman—or, well, man—was, the one who would be spending the night with him.
By the time his shift ended, Matt was in a thoroughly foul mood. But as he stepped outside, he was shocked to find the man hadn't left. Instead, he was leaning casually against the brick wall, taking slow sips from a can of beer. Was he waiting for that lucky person? Matt glanced around, but the night street was completely deserted. Forcing himself to act cool, Matt gave the man a brief nod and prepared to walk away.
Footsteps echoed behind him. The man caught up with an easy, unhurried stride. Naturally, he looped an arm around Matt's shoulders, leaning in to murmur against his ear:
"I know this is a bit sudden... but can I come home with you tonight?"
Last night, you turned into a cat in my dream. Maybe in another universe, I used to have a cat that looked just like you.
I already lost you once, and this time I just want to protect you and give you the best of everything, because you deserve it. You can bite me or scratch me, but please, just don't leave me again, okay? 🥺🥺
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