The fluorescent lights of the convenience store hummed softly, casting a dull glow over the nearly empty aisles. Outside, the city had settled into the quiet of late evening—only the occasional car passing by or the distant chatter of pedestrians broke the silence.
Inside, Juno sat behind the counter, chin resting in one hand, the other idly moving a pen across her notepad. She frowned, tapping the pen against her lip. Tonight she just couldn't find any inspiration.
Something tugged at the back of Juno's mind, a tiny ripple she couldn't explain.
A quiet chime rang through the store as the automatic doors slid open.
Juno straightened instinctively, pushing the notepad to the side as she glanced toward the entrance. The guy who stepped in wasn't a regular—not many people came in this late so she had become familiar with most who did.
His light blonde hair stood out immediately, tousled but stylish, looking good in an effortless way. The kind of hair that looked like it should be impossible but somehow wasn't. His age was hard to place, but he looked roughly a similar age.
He was wearing a deep blue bomber jacket over a black t-shirt, and in the most casual way, a long, plain and very real sword.
The stranger looked around for a moment, as if getting his bearings, then started toward the refrigerators at the back. His footsteps were light, deliberate. She could tell, even from a distance, that there was something different about him—not just the sword, but the way he carried himself. He stood out like neon in a blackout.
He moved like someone who wasn't used to being looked at. Like he was trying to blend in but didn't quite know how.
She'd lived in this part of the city long enough, where Onex Inc - the biotech giant loomed like a titan over the skyline, bringing in all sorts of people. Scientists, engineers, even the odd Unhuman passed through here from time to time. You got used to seeing things—she once saw a guy clear a building in a single jump. Normal got redefined fast around Onex Inc. Even the supernatural clocked in at 9am for minimum wage.
It was sort of like working at the hotdog stand in a football stadium, you'd see famous people so often they became as mundane as the hotdogs themselves.
Her store sat on the edge of the campus and it often felt like a convergence point for all the variety humanity had to offer. She once saw a Werewolf buy dog food and wasn't sure if it was for them or an actual pet. She wondered for a moment if that was racist to assume. In a city this size, even the extra-ordinary had become part of her routine in a way that no longer surprised her.
She had seen it all. Sitting behind the counter, every day, observing the world as it passed through her doors. Juno had become a master of figuring people out. Being on the outside, looking in.
But this guy? He wasn't that kind of weird.
Everything about him looked like someone pretending to be normal, and not quite pulling it off.
He was tall and good looking, muscular yet lean. She could tell this wasn't some gym-bro. His strength was functional, like a martial artist maybe. His looks were betrayed by the uncertainty she could see in his eyes when he scanned over the aisles.
He looked as strong as he was lost. Despite his confident form, he looked out of place, like he didn't belong.
There was something almost... brittle about the way he stood. Like he might shatter if she stared too long.
Juno exhaled and nervously taps the counter with her nails, realizing she'd been staring.
She tried to busy herself with straightening a row of gum packs on the counter, but her eyes flicked up when he finally approached, holding a bottled water and—she stifled a smile—a sandwich.
She rang up his items, sneaking another glance at him. Up close, he looked even more intense. His eyes were sharp but kind, like someone who had seen too much too soon. There was a heaviness in them, but also something else—a vulnerability he wasn't trying to hide.
She'd spent enough nights drawing under this buzz-light loneliness to recognize it in someone else. He looked almost hollow.
"That all for you?" she asked, breaking the silence.
He hesitated, as if the question caught him off guard. "Uh—yeah." His voice was quiet but steady, the kind of voice that didn't need to be loud to be heard.
There it was again—that half-second delay, like he was trying to remember how normal people responded to casual questions.
Juno nodded, punching in the total. "Three-fifty."
The guy reached into his pocket, pulled out some cash, and handed it over. His fingers brushed against hers briefly, calloused but warm.
"You new around here?" She said warmly, offering him a lifeline.
For a split second, he looked almost... guilty. Like he wasn't sure how to answer.
"Something like that," he said finally.
She tilted her head slightly. Not exactly a yes, not exactly a no. Just... evasive. That wasn't an accent, either. He sounded local. So why did he say it like that?
Juno didn't press. Instead, she gestured toward his sword. "Bit overkill for this neighbourhood, don't you think?"
He glanced at the weapon strapped to his back, then back at her. A small, almost sheepish smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"You never know," he said.
Juno smirked. "Right. Never know when a convenience store heist might go down. Or a tech-bro tries to get you to invest in his new start-up. I'd want to defend myself too."
He laughed—just a quiet, breathy sound—but it softened something in his expression.
She didn't know why, but she liked that. Like she'd won a rare prize.
"Well, welcome to the area, I guess," she said as she handed him his bag. "Hope you survive it."
His fingers tightened around the plastic handles, his smile fading just slightly.
"Thanks."
And then he was gone, disappearing into the hush of the night.
Juno stood there for a moment, arms crossed, watching the empty doorway.
She'd seen strange before. Worked the graveyard shift long enough to know weird wasn't always dangerous. He was weird in a quiet, sad way, like he was seeing the world for the first time and wasn't sure if he belonged. Sometimes weird was just... sad.
And something about him—the way he moved, the way he hesitated—felt sadder than most.
Sad in a way she almost, almost understood.
Something about him felt... off. Not in a bad way, just—different. Like he didn't quite fit into the space he occupied.
She could almost relate.
—-
The following evening, the store was just as empty, the hum of the overhead lights the only company Juno had as she sat behind the counter. Another slow night. She didn't mind—slow nights meant time to draw.
She was in the middle of drawing when the chime of the door startled her.
Juno looked up, and there he was again—the guy from last night, stepping into the store like he wasn't quite used to automatic doors.
She hadn't expected to see him again, at least not so soon. Most people who came in at this hour were regulars: delivery drivers, night shift workers, students pulling all-nighters. The fact that he was back already was... interesting.
This time, he wasn't heading straight for the refrigerated section. He was standing in front of the self-serve coffee machine, staring at it like it had personally offended him. His hands were on his hips, head tilted slightly, as if trying to solve an unsolvable puzzle.
He looked like a guy who had just encountered a fax machine for the first time. Or a rotary phone. Something ancient and mystical.
Juno watched for a moment, amused, then set her sketchbook aside and got up.
"You need help or are you just admiring the craftsmanship?"
The guy turned, looking slightly startled. Then he glanced back at the coffee machine.
"Uh." His expression was carefully neutral, but his body language screamed 'I have no idea what I'm doing'.
Juno grinned. "You've never used a coffee vending machine before, have you?"
He hesitated, then shook his head. "No."
She folded her arms, leaning against the counter next to the machine. "Its the same as a soda machine."
Another pause. His brows knitted together slightly, like he was trying to avoid admitting he had no idea how to use those either.
"I've never used one?" he said it quietly as if knowing he was admitting not just to never using a coffee vending machine but any vending machine at all.
Juno picked up on his evasive tone. She squinted at him more curious than amused. He didn't look like the kind of guy who'd grown up off-grid, completely cut off from society. If anything he looked clean cut, almost manufactured. Like someone had assembled everything he was wearing for him. His clothes were new, fashionable. Expensive. Except for his boots, which looked well worn in, old.
"Alright, newbie. Watch and learn."
She stepped forward and tapped the buttons. "So, first, you pick your poison—regular, espresso, cappuccino, whatever."
He glanced at the screen, reading the options like they were written in another language. "I guess?"
Juno smirked and tapped the option for him. "Great. Now it asks how much sugar and milk you want. If you're hardcore, you just hit 'none' and let it ruin your life."
"That's what I drink to survive the late shift." She smiled, making light of it, avoiding asking any questions about the fact he clearly wasn't just confused about the coffee, but the whole room and everything in it.
He hesitated, then pressed 'none.'
Juno let out a low whistle. "Damn. No tastebuds, huh?"
He just gave her a blank look, like he wasn't sure if she was joking. Or maybe like he didn't get the joke.
Even his confusion was weird. Not defensive, not annoyed. Just... slow. Measured. Like he was trying to understand how jokes were supposed to work.
"Alright, now put your cup there," she said, pointing at the dispenser. He did, and the machine whirred to life, steaming and hissing as dark liquid poured into the cup.
He watched it like it was some kind of strange technology. Juno caught that look again, the same one from last night. It was like he wasn't just unfamiliar with the store, but the whole concept of it.
"Okay, serious question," she said, leaning against the counter again. "Where the hell are you from that you've never seen a vending machine before?"
He hesitated. Briefly. Too briefly for someone trying to come up with a lie.
"I've seen them, just never used one," he said finally.
His eyes darted around the store as if looking for further elaboration. "I'm from... not here," he said, the word stiff and careful, like he'd learned it second-hand.
"Uh-huh." She narrowed her eyes. "Like, 'grew up in a cave' far away or 'off-the-grid survivalist family' far away?"
That almost made him smile. Almost. "Something like that."
Something like that. That was his favorite phrase, apparently. He kept using it like a shield.
Juno let out a short laugh. "Well, welcome to civilization. We have the worst coffee and questionable snack foods."
He looked down at the steaming cup in his hands like he wasn't sure what to do with it now. Juno reached for a stack of lids and handed him one. He looked at it like she'd given him a piece of alien technology.
"You might wanna put this on unless you enjoy second-degree burns."
He looked at her, and for a second, there was something unreadable in his expression. Then, instead of responding, he took a slow sip of the coffee.
His reaction was immediate. His eyes widened just a fraction—barely noticeable, but Juno caught it.
"Strong?" she guessed, watching him.
He exhaled slowly. "Bitter."
"You get used to it," she said, watching him with amusement. "Kinda like life."
He didn't answer right away, but his expression shifted slightly, like that struck a chord.
Just for a second, there was a flicker—like he was remembering something painful. Something old.
Juno tilted her head but didn't push. Instead, she crossed her arms on the counter and leaned in slightly.
"Alright, mystery guy. Since you're officially a repeat customer now, I think you owe me a name. I like to know my regulars."
He hesitated—again. Like she was asking him for state secrets.
"Zach," he said finally.
Juno smirked. "Alright, Zach. I hope you survive that coffee so that your names worth remembering."
Zach huffed out a small laugh—barely there, but real. He nodded, giving her a look that almost felt like gratitude before turning toward the exit.
As he stepped outside, the night air catching in his hair, Juno watched him go.
Weird guy. Sort of awkward. His personality did not match his look. He could have walked off a movie set with his looks. That's not what she saw though. She saw someone out of place somehow. A feeling she could relate to.
With a small shake of her head, she turned back to the counter, picked up her sketchbook, and started drawing again.
Zach stood outside, staring at this coffee, then back at the store. This timeline made no sense to him. He recognised the streets and the skyline. But where he was from, there was no life here, no store, no clerk.
There was only ruins and rubble.
He can't let that happen again.