#post content

Closing shifts were always your favorite. Your other coworkers hated them with a passion, and always asked to switch your morning shifts with their nights. At first they would give excuses along the lines of having to attend their kids' baseball games or attending family events, but that quickly fell through when you pointed out that they both couldn't possibly be that busy every closing shift.

"OK, You got me. Honestly, I'm surprised it took you this long to protest. You're definitely braver than us." Del was restocking the freezer with novelty ice cream bars as you sent reminder texts to renters informing them of their upcoming due dates and waited for a customer to ring.

"What do you mean? " you replied, smacking on a thick wad of hubba bubba between pauses, "I'm just saying if you guys don't like closing I'm more than happy to talk to the boss about scheduling me for the late shifts."

"You- you like the closing shift?" He seemed too astonished to multitasking, as he'd almost dropped a box onto the floor.

"Yeah, it's pretty easy, and I'm more of a night owl anyway."

"Wait, so you haven't noticed anyone… unusual coming in on your night shifts?" His hands were now too preoccupied on carrying the conversation than work.

"No? Just the same regulars that rent a porno and grab a few beers. They never make any advances on me, and I don't really give a fuck about their purchases." You continued to pay just as much attention as you had been to your work task.

"No, no, that's not what I mean." He shook his head and pointed to you, earning you a slight glance in acknowledgement.

"Well, what do you mean?" What else could he possibly mean?

He sighed, " Well, there's this… guy?" He gestured vaguely, "Eh, that comes in every now and again. He always wears this big ass trench coat, smells like pennies and has this fucked up face."

You turned your head to the side and sucked a bubble inside your cheek, "That's a bit rude."

"Hey, if you saw the guy, you'd agree. Anyway, I don't like him, and he makes Fernanda uncomfortable. Besides, he never buys anything. Just walks in, stares at this section or that, stands there for minutes at a time, and eventually leaves. And he scares other customers away!"

"Have you ever talked to him? Customer service is part of our job, you know."

"Nahhhhh, fuck that." He turned back to his task at hand.

You rolled your eyes, "It would get him out of the store quickly. And make us some money."

"Well, sounds like you can handle him perfectly well yourself. Don't come crying to us when you're stuck with all the night shifts and eventually run into that guy."

"You're so melodramatic. I doubt it's anywhere near as bad as you make it out. Y'all have probably already ran him off with your shit people skills, given that I haven't ran into this guy the entire two weeks I've been here."

"Oh, shit. I hadn't thought of that." He had stopped a moment to think, then looked at you and shrugged.

"No take-backsies. Night shift's mine."

It was another two weeks before you finally saw him enter the store. You had already taken care of clean up and restocking routines as usual and were left with most of your shift to act busy until it was time for closing. This time was perfect for getting a little bit of drawing done between customers, your boss didn't mind as long as you made a few sales throughout the night. You were so focused on your drawing that you hadn't noticed him enter. He was quiet, the only thing that tipped you off to his presence was the smell of pennies that Del had warned you about. When you looked up, he was standing in front of the miniscule horror selection, his back towards you, head almost entirely obscured by a tall standing collar reminiscent of something one might see a villain clad in a noir or giallo film. It took you just a moment to muster up the courage to approach him.

"Can I help you find something today?"

There was a moment of silence, almost as if he were hesitating, then a nearly unnoticeable nod, careful to obscure his face behind his messy dark strands.

You glanced at the titles before you, considering what might fall into his taste. "If you're on the hunt for a horror recommendation, you've found the right person to help." You ignored the fact that you were the one who approached him. After a moment of careful contemplation, you grabbed two movies, one to your left and one you had to excuse yourself to grab in front of him.

"We don't have a huge selection right now, but these are two classic giallo films I think you might find an interest in," you showed him Deep Red and The Bird With The Crystal Plumage. "Oh! Actually, I have one more recommendation from our thrillers."

He observed the covers of each DVD before flipping them over and reading the back as you perused the adjacent aisle.

"Here it is!" You grabbed the movie and brought it to him. "No Country For Old Men is more of a personal favorite," you said, pointing at the 'Employee Picks' poster by the register, "but I have a feeling you'd like it, too."

He studied the back of that case as well. The opportunity to peek at his face while he was distracted was not wasted. Admittedly, he was an individual that oozed mystique. When he caught you staring you tried to deflect with more customer service as an excuse.

"Um, if you like, we have rental versions. So you can watch them all before you commit to buying any." There was no way he hadn't caught you blushing. "I'll just give you a few minutes to think about it," you said, hiding behind the register once again. He was silent approaching the register with the rental copies of the movies you had shown him and through the completion of the transaction.

"The rentals are due on the 25th, you're all good to go."

He nodded and turned for the door.

"See you in two weeks," you smiled, and he was gone.

The next two weeks were uneventful, just you counting down every day until the 25th of the month. In the meantime, you badgered your boss to expand the selection of horror films and thought of what to show him next time he came through. When the day finally came your coworkers noticed how unusually chipper you were, and you brush it off as it being your weekend after today. The night turned late without any sign of him, and you worried that he returned the videos earlier in the day, or on a night you didn't work. Just as you were losing hope and thinking of closing a few minutes early, a call rang the store phone.

"Hello, thank you for calling Marty's Movies and Munchies. How can I help you tonight?"

The voice on the other line was strained and slow at first, deep and raspy in a way you found incredibly sexy. "Are you closed? I need to return some videos. I'm a bit later than I expected to be."

You lean in to the counter, feeling generous enough (and hopeful that he'll come by) to let the sexy-voiced customer in after close. Not like you had plans, anyway. "Nope, you still have about ten minutes 'till doors close, but since you called ahead I'll give you an additional ten minute grace period. Any later than that and you'll have to bring it in tomorrow and pay a small late fee."

"No need, I'm already here."

Before you could question the caller, the ringing of the bell hung above the door caught your attention. Immediately, you recognized the gangly form of the man your coworkers had not-so-affectionately dubbed The Creeper. Your gaze lingered on him, trying to get another glance at his piercing eyes through the curtain of hair that he made sure masked his face. He must have picked up on it and became self conscious, as he pulled his high collar up and sunk further behind its shadow. Odd enough, but you also noticed that he didn't appear to be holding a cell phone.

Feeling particularly brave, and maybe a bit too confident, you leaned over the counter and smiled at him, "So that's what you sound like, huh?"

His posture noticeably stiffened.

"Or is it a voice modulator? Either way, it's kinda sexy."

"Just…return these, will you?" It was quite cute how he would avert his eyes and take half a step back out of embarrassment. You didn't take him for the shy type.

Though he stumbled over every word, you had forgotten the landlines propped between your head and shoulder and the sudden noise in your ear made you jump back. "Yeah, sure thing."

"And," he hesitated for a moment, "I think I would like to purchase my own videos."

"Ok, DVD or blu-ray?" You already had them picked out and waiting for him under the counter, and held them out for him to choose.

"I… don't know the difference."

"You don't know which you have?"

He looked embarrassed and almost shrank right where he stood, "I watch them on my sister's device."

"Well does she have movies like this," you shook the bigger case in your left hand, "or this?" shaking then the smaller blue case.

"Both?" Incredible. You had no idea how anyone could just not know the difference.

"OK, I'm choosing for you," you said, stuffing a plastic shopping bag with blu-ray copies of each film. "You're getting blu-ray. They're better."

"What if I'm wrong? Will a DVD player work with these movies?"

His questions were honestly the most interesting ones you would get from customers, even if just for the sheer unawareness he had demonstrated in... pretty much everything. "Jesus Christ dude. Have you been living under a rock for the past 25 years or something?"

"Something like that," he answered a bit too readily, "And a bit longer."

You blinked and chose to ignore the statement. He was weird, odd looking, brooding, and now, obviously, a bit socially inept. God, he just became more and more your type, and you were dying to score. "Well," you started, "DVD players are the older video player and therefore not backwards compatible, but blu-ray players can play both. If your sister has both kinds of movies, she most likely has a blu-ray player, but," you wrote your number on a notepad kept at the counter and tore the page off, sliding it into the bag with his purchase, "if you have any questions or run into any problems you can call me. I might just let you come over and use mine." You ended with a wink to give it what you hoped was an extra layer of obvious courtship.

"Why would I use your device? I'll just buy my own." He pulled out a loose debit card from the right pocket of his coat and shoved it in your direction expectantly.

You sighed and took his debit card, ignoring your initial glance at the name– certainly not the name he had given for his customer account– then prepared to slide the card through the reader. "God, you are oblivious," you rolled your eyes. "Ok, your total is–"

"Wait," he quickly interrupted, then hesitated for a fraction of a second, "I want to rent another movie."

Of course! You had forgotten the movie you had previously selected for him. "Anything in mind?"

"I trust your judgment."

Your grin couldn't be wider as you grabbed the last rental copy of Possession from your 'Employee Picks' cubby. "You'll love this one. I feel a particular kinship with Isabelle Adjani's character, Anna. I think you'll like her too." With that, you rang up his total and saw him out the door.

By the time he left it was fifteen minutes past closing and you had to rush to finish up routines. You couldn't wait to brag to your coworkers that you had made a big sale to The Creeper. There wasn't much time to revel in your victory and plan your next move, however, because he had returned the following night. As it turns out, you didn't need to. He practically fell right into your lap.

When he entered, you immediately noticed that he walked with much more confidence than before. Ioday, he wore his coat open, and the standing collar limped to the side, putting his face, though still partially obscured by his gangly hair, almost proudly on display. You were so distracted by his drastic change in demeanor that you almost didn't notice him speaking to you.

"I want my own copy of this movie."

"I'm sorry, but we don't have any more for sale. You can always come in and renew your rental every two weeks, though that limits the number of other movies you can–" 

"Order it for me."

"I can't do that, unfortunately, but–"

"Yes? But what?"

You prop your elbow on the counter and rest your head in your palm, looking up at him from just below, "I have my own copy in my personal collection. You can come by and watch it anytime you like."

"Tonight. I'm coming home with you."

You laughed at how forward he was suddenly being, "Sure. I'm closing up in a few minutes," you tossed him your keys. "Wait for me in the car."

A few minutes later, you locked up the store and entered your car, where he sat nervously waiting for you.

Bonus!

You had waited all day for the unknown call with steadily declining patience. It's not that you were annoyed. You were just excited for your weekly visit. Every week the routine was the same: he comes or calls, spends hours with you holed up in your room and leaves you shivering under your sheets, eagerly awaiting his next arrival.

 Your work day crawled by at an agonizing pace, not helped by the slow business this time of year– and in your particular line of retail. The number of customers that came through the small video store could be counted on one hand, and the number that actually made a purchase even less. As usual, most of your shift was spent doodling in your sketchbook. Lately, they would all be little sketches of him. His hair was your favorite thing to draw; the contrasting textures of his wavy, dry hair and bloody wet tangles looping around one another, the cracked leather coat he always wore, drawing special and precise attention to his bright eyes and the exposed muscles of his face. Your sketchbook was littered with countless finished and unfinished pencil and ink sketches alike. Sometimes, you would add a splash of color, usually red or blue.

He never came into the store anymore. Instead, he would pick from your personal collection and give you money for a copy of his own if he really liked the film. Once or twice, you had tried to set up a cute movie marathon date night, but he would often get...  distracted. It was nice, though. Sneaking him in through your window so your roommates didn't freak out and fucking with the lights out and a movie on in the background made you feel like a teenager again. The butterflies he would churn up in your stomach and the heavy feeling in your chest when you thought of him made you absolutely giddy, though you would have a hard time admitting it if pressed.

It wasn't often he would leave you hanging. If he couldn't make it, he would at least call you and let you know ahead of time. At least then you'd know to set time aside to take care of yourself.

Tonight was one such night. No call, no cancel, no sign of him. By the time you would usually have heard from him, you had had enough of waiting and decided to pleasure yourself. Earphones plugged in with your background noise of choice, lube in hand, toy at the ready, you went to work. As you moved your hands over your body, you imagined they were his. Admittedly, only he could tease you the way you really needed it, from with feather-light touches that tickled your inner thighs, to his hands wrapped around your neck in a vice grip; but tonight, your own would have to do. Just the thought of him touching you like that had you crying out his name. It wasn't until you were nearing your peak that your session was interrupted by an incoming call.

You let the phone ring as you stared at the ID on the screen.

UNKNOWN

It had to be him. It always was. You let the call linger for a few more seconds before you finally picked up the line– you just had to tease him a little bit. A few seconds of silence greeted your ears and planted a seed of uncertainty. "Hello?"

Nothing to be heard on the other line. You considered hanging up before the familiar feedback pierced the line. He said nothing at first, leaving you shivering in anticipation.

There was a sigh on the other end of the line, or perhaps a dark stifled laugh.