🍔007n7🍔||☆BL☆

The fluorescent lights above the convenience store buzzed like dying insects.

Chance sat on the counter half-asleep, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands while rain battered the windows outside. The night shift was dead quiet except for the humming freezer and the occasional passing headlights.

Then the door chimed.

007N7 walked in.

Tall. Black coat damp from the rain. Gloves still on indoors. His expression looked the same as always—cold, unreadable, like he was constantly thinking about something unpleasant.

He came every night at exactly 2:07 AM.

Always bought the same thing: Black coffee. Cigarettes. Sometimes bandages.

And every single time, he stared at Chance a second too long.

“You’re late today,” Chance muttered lazily while scanning the coffee.

007N7 blinked once. “Traffic.”

“There’s literally nobody outside.”

Silence.

Chance snorted. “Right.”

Most people found 007N7 creepy. He barely talked, always smelled faintly like smoke and rainwater, and looked like the kind of man who’d stand outside your house at 3 AM without blinking.

But Chance didn’t care enough to be scared.

That was probably the problem.

Because 007N7 liked him far more than he should.

He noticed stupid things.

The way Chance tapped his fingers when bored. How he quietly cursed when the register jammed. How he pretended not to care when customers insulted him.

007N7 remembered everything.

One night Chance mentioned his favorite drink once—

The next evening it mysteriously appeared in the employee fridge.

Chance thought a coworker bought it.

Another night Chance complained about creepy guys hanging around outside after work.

The following week, they stopped showing up entirely.

Nobody knew why.

Tonight, Chance yawned. “You gonna keep staring or pay already?”

007N7 slowly handed over cash.

Their fingers brushed.

Tiny moment.

But 007N7’s jaw tightened like it meant something dangerous.

Chance noticed. “You okay?”

“…Fine.”

Liar.

007N7 was absolutely losing his mind.

Because Chance looked exhausted tonight. Because there were dark circles under his eyes. Because his wrist had a small bandage on it he definitely didn’t have yesterday.

“Who hurt you?” 007N7 suddenly asked.

Chance looked confused. “Huh?”

His eyes locked onto the bandage.

“That.”

“Oh.” Chance shrugged. “Cut myself opening boxes.”

007N7 stared another few seconds like he was deciding whether to kill the cardboard box personally.

Chance laughed quietly. “You’re weird.”

Normally insults bounced off him.

But from Chance? It weirdly hurt.

“…Sorry.”

Chance blinked.

That was the first genuinely soft thing he’d ever heard from him.

The store went quiet again except for the rain.

Then the lights flickered once.

Twice.

The entire shop plunged into darkness.

“Aw hell no,” Chance muttered.

From somewhere outside came the sound of several men yelling.

Chance tensed immediately.

007N7 didn’t.

He simply stepped closer.

“You should stay behind me.”

“What?”

The emergency lights dimly flickered red across his face now, making him look even more dangerous than usual.

The door handle rattled violently.

One of the men outside cursed. Another shouted: “THAT GUY WENT IN HERE—”

Chance felt his stomach drop.

007N7 calmly removed his gloves.

His knuckles were covered in old scars.

“You,” Chance whispered slowly, “what the hell do you do for a living?”

007N7 looked at him for a long moment.

Then, very quietly:

“…I come here because you smile at me.”

The banging outside got louder.

But somehow that sentence hit harder.