× convenience store!

@☆ ┈ oh youngone！ it's nights like these that are the hardest. drowning in a quietude only disturbed by the few drunks who would stumble their way in for another bottle. mignon has grown accustomed to this simple life. none too far from the one he lived in the past. before everything. before /him/. he never realized how cold evenings were when tucked underground, washed under blazing spotlights and choking on humid air staled from spectator's screaming and cigarette smoke. it was all too loud. numbing both his thoughts and the bruises that littered his body. but–

it's nights like these that he longed for those days the most. not for the punches or the pushing or the betting or the overpowering smell of alcohol and body odor, but for what came after it. what would be waiting for him behind heavy clinic doors, tucked in the far back of the venue, in the only space where he felt safe.

as his shift ticks by, he can't help but waste the passing hours thinking to himself. thoughts that are, more often than not, occupied by one thing - or more so, one person. he's sure that his untimely demise must have been a shock for the doctor as well. he wonders how he reacted. did he cry? did he hold mignon's body and wish for him back? the possibility of not only leaving the man he loved behind but moreover leaving him in pain left mignon breathless. his chest tightens. aches. air refuses to fill his lungs as he grips over his heart. feeling the accursed organ continue to beat under his palm – but for someone now out of his reach.

he doesn't even realize someone entered the store until the sound of shoes near the check-out counter.

he composes himself, dragging his body upright with more energy than he had. his eyes remain downturned, waiting for the customer to put down their items. however, when met with silence and stillness, his brows pinch together as he rakes his gaze up to meet a face he thought he would only see in his dreams. "d.. doc..."

he would think it was the time of the night playing tricks on him if not for the sound of his name, in a voice as sweet as he remembers, that confirms all disbelief. "doc!"

he is only short of throwing himself over the counter as his arms wrap around the doctor's shoulders and squeeze him in fear that he will slip through his grasp once more. "doc...." he repeats, a broken mantra mumbled in the crook of the other's neck, accompanied by tears that rise and fall down his face.

@☆ ┈ mignon！ youngone has, unfortunately, forgotten what it's like to be human.

after being a vampire for most of his life (and it was a very long life, mind you), everything that revolves around humans had already been reduced to merely being a means of survival; food, to be exact. considering how he was no longer a mortal being, it only made sense for him to associate them with nothing more than this.

or, well, that is ... until /he/ came along.

since that very first night that he stumbled into his clinic, snow-white hair practically glistening under the fluorescent lights, humans were nothing more to youngone other than sustenance and mignon.

and now that he no longer needed them as food, what was left?

as youngone decides on a snack and beverage to take with him back to his clinic, he proceeds to approach the cashier with his head hung low, rummaging his wallet for the exact amount to make sure the social interaction is cut short. once he finally has it, he looks up and finally locks eyes with the man behind the counter.

... god.

his hair will never fail to glisten under fluorescent lights, won't it?

the items in the doctor's hands drop to the ground in an instant upon recognition and the answer to his question of what is left comes out of his mouth in a faint whisper packed with so much longing and grief: "... mignon?"