#breakup chapter

Hi :3 I'm here to bestow another chapter of The Night Shift, it's so freaking good so far. I literally cannot stop writing and brainstorming for it.

If you haven't read Chapter 1, here it is. If you want to find the post master list, here it is. Thank you guys for taking the time to read!

Between the stale air of lecture halls and the grease-stained glow of Burgers Burgers Burgers, life feels caught in a loop - predictable, suffocating, and full of cracks that only seem to widen. Old friendships, whispered rumors, and sharp-edged words gnaw at the edges of (Y/N)'s world, leaving her reaching for something steady to hold onto. Amid the fluorescent lights and late-night routines, Benson's quiet presence lingers closer than ever, a shadow she can't quite step away from. But in the hush of empty roads and dim headlights, comfort begins to take on a shape that feels both safe... and unsettling.

Potential TW:

Cheating/Infidelity

Bullying/Verbal Harassment/Workplace Harassment

Sexual Language

Breakup Themes

The classroom smelled faintly like pencil shavings and burnt coffee, the kind of mix that clung to the old brick hallways of the community college. (Y/N) sat in the middle row, notebook open, pen in hand. Her professor's voice carried across the room, full of energy as he mapped the sparks of the American Revolution across the whiteboard – Lexington, Concord, Boston Tea Party.

History had always fascinated her. Maybe because it felt safe, predictable. The past never changed, no matter how messy or complicated it had been.

She was leaning forward, scribbling down a note about taxation without representation, when her phone lit up against the edge of her notebook. She glanced down, ready to ignore it – until she saw the name.

Zoey.

Her chest warmed at the memory of their sleepovers in high school, the whispered secrets, the way Zoey always made her laugh. They hadn't talked as much since graduation, so the text came as a surprise.

But when (Y/N) opened it, her blood went cold.

Hey… random question. Are you and Jonathon still together? Because I think I might've messed up. He asked me out last night. Said you guys weren't a thing anymore.

The words blurred in her vision. 

Her throat tightened, heart slamming against her ribs. She reread the message once, twice, like the meaning might change if she looked hard enough. It didn't.

Her pen slipped from her hand. She slammed her notebook shut, stuffed it into her backpack, and muttered something about needing the bathroom as she stood up. The professor's voice kept going without pause, the Revolution marching on without her.

(Y/N)'s steps were shaky down the hallway, and by the time she pushed out into the autumn air, her eyes burned hot. She swallowed it down, though. She wasn't about to start crying on campus.

Instead, she made her way to the bus stop, practically sprinting to catch the next ride out of town. Not home. She couldn't sit at home and think about Jonathon, about Zoey, about the way everything she thought was solid had just cracked beneath her feet.

She needed noise. People. Something to drown it all out.

She needed work.

The familiar greasy smell hit her the second she walked into Burgers Burgers Burgers. It should've made her stomach turn, but today it was a strange comfort. The hum of fryers. The buzz of the neon sign. The same red plastic booths she'd wiped down a hundred times.

She marched straight to the back, not even stopping at the counter, and knocked once before pushing into the manager's office.

Her eyes widened.

Her manager – a man in his forties who still thought cargo shorts and polos were acceptable workwear – was hunched over his computer. The glow of the screen flashed something she could've sworn was skin before he scrambled, mouse clicking furiously. A spreadsheet popped up in its place, way too fast to be natural.

"Oh – uh – (Y/N)!" He adjusted his glasses, smiling too wide. "What're you doing here? You're not scheduled 'til later."

She froze, the back of her neck prickling, but forced herself to stay focused. "I… I know. I just… can I clock in early? Pull a double shift today?"

He blinked at her, surprised. "You sure?"

"Yeah." Her voice came out sharper than she meant, almost desperate. "Please. I just… I need the hours."

Something in her face must've convinced him, because he leaned back in his squeaky chair and shrugged. "Fine by me. Grab a headset and start on front counter."

"Thanks," she muttered, backing out before she could catch another glimpse of his screen.

Out on the floor, the fluorescent lights felt almost too bright, but at least they drowned out the buzzing in her head. She tugged on her headset, took her place by the register, and forced herself to breathe.

Work wasn't much, but it was something. A distraction. And right now, it was the only thing keeping her together.

By the time the lunch rush trickled down to nothing, (Y/N) had settled into the rhythm of the shift. Take orders. Hand out drinks. Swipe cards. Smile, even when she felt like her insides were unraveling.

It was almost two hours in – around the time her actual shift should've started – when Chris and Jess walked up to the front counter, already laughing about some inside jokes.

Jess immediately clocked her standing behind the counter, headset on. "Wait, so, what are you doing here this early?"

"Yeah," Chris chimed in, voice dropping with mockery. "Didn't know you were trying to be a day shift hero. Thought you were strictly nights."

(Y/N) forced a shrug, not looking at them. "Just… picking up some extra hours."

Jess leaned against the counter, smacking her gum. "Wow. Dedication or desperation?"

Chris snorted, elbowing Jess. "Definitely desperation. Makes sense, though. I heard about last night."

Her heart stopped cold.

Chris grinned, eyes gleaming mean. "Yeah, Jonathan told me.  Said he got some better pussy last night." He laughed at his own words, like it was the funniest thing he'd ever said.

Jess cackled right along with him, tossing her hair. "Ouch. That's embarrassing. Can't believe you're still hanging onto that loser. Total waste. Honestly, you're like… such a nobody. A loser with no life."

The words landed like slaps, one after the other. (Y/N) kept her gaze glued to the register screen, biting the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted copper. She wasn't going to cry in front of them. Not here. Not for them.

The laughter cut off suddenly.

The glass door creaked open, and Benson stepped inside, the familiar shuffle of his sneakers echoing in the quiet lobby. He pushed his hair back from his face and set his hat down by the counter, eyes flicking between the three of them.

The silence stretched, thick and awkward. Chris and Jess traded looks, whispers slipping under their breath.

"Total weirdo…" Jess muttered, lips curling.

"Psycho," Chris added, barely containing his smirk.

They didn't say it loud enough for Benson to call them on it, but (Y/N) heard every syllable.

Chris clapped his hands together like he'd just finished a shift worth of work, though he hadn't even touched his apron. "Well, time for us to bounce. Later, losers."

Jess smirked, tugging him toward the back. "Yeah, have fun with your freak show."

The clock beeped faintly as they swiped out, their voices fading down the hallway until the door slammed shut behind them.

Leaving just (Y/N) and Benson.

The hours stretched in that slow, greasy way only closing shifts could. The hum of the fryers, the occasional hiss of the grill, the steady buzz of the neon sign outside – all of it filled the empty space between them.

Benson slipped into his rhythm easily: prepping patties, dropping fries, wiping down counters. He didn't talk much anyway, but tonight the silence felt heavier. Off.

The manager ducked out after the dinner rush, jangling his keys. "Lock up when you're done. Don't forget the back door."

"Got it," Benson muttered without looking up.

The door clicked shut, and just like that, it was only the two of them.

Usually, (Y/N) would throw in a few little comments here and there. Something about a customer's weird order, or the way Chris and Jess had managed to leave random messes everywhere. Nothing deep – just small things to break up the monotony. But tonight, she stayed glued to the register, her face unreadable, movements mechanical.

To Benson, it looked like she was ignoring him. Which wasn't like her.

He let it go for a while, letting the silence ride. But the longer it went on, the more it needled at him. His gut told him it wasn't nothing. He'd walked in on something earlier – Chris and Jess smirking like they'd just gotten away with something. And the way (Y/N) had gone quiet after? It didn't take a genius.

Finally, Benson wiped his hands on a rag, tossed it onto the counter, and crossed the small stretch of tile to where she was straightening straw dispensers like her life depended on it.

"What did they say to you?" His voice wasn't loud, but it carried weight, steady and sharp.

(Y/N)'s head snapped up. "What? Nothing. It's fine."

"Doesn't look fine."

She shook her head quickly, turning her attention back to the straws. "It's not worth repeating."

Benson didn't move. His arms folded across his chest, dark eyes locked on her. "They were laughing. You weren't. That's worth repeating."

She swallowed, her throat tight. "I said it's fine."

For a moment, it seemed like he might drop it. But then he leaned against the counter beside her, close enough that she could feel the heat off his sleeve. His voice dropped lower, gentler, but still firm.

"They don't get to say crap like that to you and just walk away. So tell me."

She tried to hold his gaze, but it cracked under the weight of it. The words tumbled out before she could stop them, her voice thin and shaky. "Jonathon. He… he didn't show last night because he was with someone else. One of my friends texted me about it. And Chris – he thought it was funny."

Her chest tightened, hot tears threatening to sting her eyes again. She blinked hard, shaking her head. "So, yeah. That's what they said. Happy now?"

Benson didn't answer right away. His jaw worked, eyes dark and unreadable, like he was fighting with something inside himself. Concern. Anger. Maybe both.

Finally, he exhaled, slow and steady. "No," he said quietly. "Not happy."

The way he said it – it wasn't just about her boyfriend. Or Chris. Or Jess. It was something heavier, deeper, unspoken.

And (Y/N) felt it like a tug under her skin, something she couldn't quite name.

Benson didn't move away after she told him. He stayed right there, leaning against the counter beside her, the space between them charged and strange. He didn't stare at her – just kind of lingered, like his presence alone might be enough to take the edge off.

After a long beat, his voice broke through the hum of the fryers. "Next time it happens… you should tell me. I'll handle it."

(Y/N) shook her head quickly, straightening the pile of straw wrappers just to keep her hands busy. "I don't need that. I can handle myself."

Something in his face shifted – his mouth tightening, his eyes narrowing like she'd struck a nerve. He gave a humorless little laugh, sharp around the edges.

"Yeah. You really handled it pretty well today."

The words landed heavy, more cutting than maybe he meant them to be.

(Y/N) froze, her chest burning, and turned back to the register without a word.

"Yeah, you know what, Benson? Maybe I would have handled it better if I didn't find out my boyfriend... my ex boyfriend... cheated on me last night."

Benson was struck for words, his gaze meeting hers, his eyes softening. "I... I'm sorry, (Y/N), I didn't know."

Just like that, a rift opened between them.

The rest of the shift crawled by in silence, broken only by the clutter of trays and the scrape of broom bristles on tile. Usually, they'd trade small comments, even if it was about nothing. Tonight, not a single one passed between them.

By the time they clocked out, the air felt thick with everything unspoken. (Y/N) swiped her card, stepped back, and was about to head for the door when Benson nudged her shoulder lightly with his own.

She glanced up, startled, to find the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his mouth – like he was trying to patch things up, even if he didn't have the words for it.

"Need a ride home?" he asked, his voice careful, almost uncertain.

She hesitated, chewing on the inside of her cheek. A part of her wanted to refuse, to keep her pride intact. But another part of her knew she didn't have a better option tonight.

"... Yeah," she said softly.

Benson nodded once, like it settled everything. "Alright. Let's go."

The Chevy rumbled down the empty stretch of road, headlights cutting through the dark. The cab smelled faintly of fast food grease and worn leather, and the only sound for a while was the tinny voice of the radio.

Creed. My Sacrifice. One of those songs her dad would blast when he was working in the garage, all scratchy guitars and earnest lyrics.

(Y/N) sat with her cheek leaning against the cool glass, watching the cornfields blur by. It felt like they could ride forever in silence.

But finally, she broke it.

"You know… I didn't even tell him I know yet." Her voice was quiet, like she was confessing to the windshield instead of him. "That he cheated. I kind of just want to leave it there. Like a silent goodbye."

Benson shifted his grip on the wheel, his jaw tightening. "That's not what I'd do."

She glanced at him, brows lifting. "No?"

"If someone cheated on me like that…" His mouth twisted, the faintest flicker of something darker in his eyes.  "I'd want it to go out with a bang."

The words hung in the air, heavy, a little too sharp. For a second, she swore there was something behind them, some weight he wasn't saying out loud.

(Y/N) turned back to the window, shaking her head with a small laugh that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I don't have the energy for that. I didn't even have that much feeling for him anymore. I was just… with him. To be with someone."

Benson nodded, his expression softening. "That's rough." His voice dipped lower, steadier. "You deserve better than that."

She glanced at him again, caught by the sincerity in his tone. For someone who didn't talk much, he always seemed to say things that mattered.

The gravel crunched beneath the tires as they turned down her road, the faint glow of the farmhouse porch light coming into view.

Her mom was there – sitting on the porch swing with a book open in her lap, glasses perched low on her nose. The lamplight bathed her in warm yellow, moths flitting lazily around the bulb.

"That your mom?" Benson asked, nodding toward the porch.

"Yeah," (Y/N) said softly.

He let out a small laugh, quiet but genuine. "She's like a spitting image of you."

Heat rushed to her cheeks. "Oh my god, don't say that."

"What? It's true." His mouth tugged into a smirk, like he was amused at her reaction. "The same eyes. The same… serious look when you're thinking too hard."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small smile that crept across her lips. "You're ridiculous."

"Not ridiculous. Just observant."

The car eased to a stop at the end of the gravel drive. The porch swing creaked faintly in the distance, her mom still immersed in her book.

For a long moment, (Y/N) stayed where  she was, hand lingering on the seatbelt buckle but not clicking it yet. The air between her and Benson felt… heavier than before. Charged in a way she couldn't name.

"Thanks for the ride," she said finally, voice softer than she meant it to be.

Benson nodded, his gaze flicking to hers, steady and unreadable. "Anytime."

She lingered a second too long before finally pushing the door open. When she looked back at him one last time, their eyes caught – just for a heartbeat. Something deeper flickered there, unspoken but undeniably present.

Then the porch light washed over her, pulling her back toward home, leaving him in the shadow of the old Chevy.

The gravel crunched again as Benson's car pulled away, headlights disappearing down the road. (Y/N) stood there for a moment in the cool night air, the porch light warming her skin, before climbing the steps.

Her mom looked up from her book, smiling faintly. "Hey, sweetheart. How was work?"

(Y/N) dropped onto the porch rail, still feeling the hum of Benson's car in her chest. "Busy. Tiring. You know how it is."

Her mom nodded, flipping a page. Just as the faint rumble of the Chevy faded in the distance, she glanced up again, brow furrowing. "Did Jonathon get a new car or something? That didn't look like his truck."

The question hung in the air like smoke, catching (Y/N) off guard. For a second, she froze, unsure what to say. Then she cleared her throat, words spilling faster than she meant. "That wasn't Jonathon. My coworker – Benson – he dropped me off tonight. Same thing last night, when Jonathon didn't show up."

Her mom's lips pressed into a thin line, the judgement clear even before she spoke. "Mm. And what do you think Jonathon would say about another guy driving you home this late?"

(Y/N) let out a sharp scoff, tugging at the strap of her bag. "I don't think I'm going to have to worry about what Jonathon says or thinks anymore."

That made her mom pause. She blinked, book slipping closed on her finger as a marker. For a moment, the silence between them threatened to stretch too far. But then her mom gave a small nod, her voice gentler when she spoke again. "Well. Probably for the best, huh?"

"Yeah," (Y/N) muttered, not trusting herself to say more.

Her mm cleared her throat, shifting awkwardly in the swing as if the subject were too heavy. "Don't stay up too late."

"Yeah." (Y/N) bent down to kiss her mother's cheek before heading inside, the screen door creaking behind her.

Upstairs, the quiet of her room pressed down, heavy and still. She stared at the corner where Jonathon's things lived – shirts he'd left behind, a stuffed bear he'd won for her at the county fair, old photos tucked in frames.

She grabbed a trash bag from the closet. One by one, everything went in. The pictures. The notes. The hoodie that still smelled faintly like him. The bear, its plastic eyes staring up at her until it disappeared into black plastic.

When it was over, she tied the bag in a knot so tight her fingers ached, dropping it by the door like she was taking out the garbage.

Because she was.

Again, if anyone needs it: The Night Shift Master List

I hope you guys enjoyed! It's about to get really good with this next chapter.

Thank you so much for reading!💜  If you enjoyed this piece, there's plenty more where that came from, and I'll be adding to my collection as time goes on. I'm always open to suggestions and requests – so if there's something you'd like to see, don't be shy about sharing it with me! I'll do my best to deliver (within reason, of course – nothing too intense or overly triggering).

Your support means the world. ✨