When Hands Touch

15. after dark

warning: brief mention of drug addiction and self-harm. stay safe x

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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

AFTER DARK

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Milo really hated work.

He especially hated it when it wasn't his shift and someone told him to cover for them. But he obliged anyway, because if he didn't, he'd get fired, and he definitely didn't want that.

To be honest, Milo was probably going to get fired soon enough anyway, with the number of complaints people filed against him— that he took too long to scan their items, that he didn't give them their change fast enough, that his expression changed when customers were blatantly being a dick to him— the list went on and on.

But thankfully, his manager wasn't a dick who completely ignored his dyslexia, or made it seem like it was his fault that he couldn't read the labels of the items fast enough.

Currently, it was just past ten in the night, a time Milo rarely ever stepped out of his bedroom, unless it was to open the door for his dad when he got home. But tonight, he was at work. Because fucking Kevin decided to call in sick.

But Milo knew he was lying, it was clear from his Instagram stories that he was at a party, throwing back shot after shot with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Fucking dick.

Milo straightened up his back once he saw a customer and their kid approaching him, cart filled to the brim with candy. Joy.

Giving them a polite smile, he began to scan the items, praying to everything he could think of that they wouldn't talk to him. He definitely didn't want to deal with a rude customer and an angry child— that was the worst combination to have to deal with.

Of course, they decided to talk anyway. Thank you, Higher Power. Very helpful.

"Sorry about the copious amounts of candy," they started, squinting at his name tag. "Milo. Lovely name! My kid here gets way too excited for Halloween, even though it's more than half a month away. Wild."

Okay, they're nice. And young. That's good. "Thank you," he replied, feeling a little more at ease. Nice people were so fucking rare at the store. He usually just got cursed out. "And it's not a problem, I get a little too excited for Halloween too, and I'm eighteen. How old is your kid?"

Giggling, the kid just held up three fingers, letting Milo finish scanning all the items. Once he was done, their kid gave him a small grin, crooked teeth peeking out, and a small wave before leaving. Cute. Kids are monsters, but still. Squishy.

Milo scanned the area for any other customers, but no one looked like they were done shopping, so he sat back, taking his phone out to text his dad. Right then, someone placed three bottles of alcohol on the counter, a brand that Milo couldn't even recognise.

Don't look up, don't look up, Milo chanted to himself in his head, pocketing his phone. He knew that he had a judgemental look plastered on his face, he had never been good at covering up his emotions. Jude constantly complained that Milo's emotions were always blatantly obvious, especially when he was disgusted or sad. Don't be ridiculous, self. They're not going to drink it all at once.

"I'm going to need to see some ID before I can scan that," Milo stated, still not looking up as he reached for the first bottle.

There was a small huff. And then, "Milo, it's just me."