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Sorry I haven't updated often, guys! School's been taking over my life I s2g :/
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[Dave's P.O.V]
For some reason, you're rather eager to receive a text from Karkat. You check your phone constantly. You wonder when you'll see him, the sound of his voice fused into the back of your mind along with the shape of his face. You mouth his name, loving how it rolls off your tounge. But something seemed... off, about him. As though he was sick. You shrug it off and push that thought into the corner of your mind. You hand the customer their credit card back and cheerfully bid a goodbye, as protocol applies.
You continue with basic work; backstocking, cleaning the couters, attending to customers, sweeping and moping, and even doing the books for your manager who never shows up along with the rest of your workers. Staff is painfully low.. only two of t workers are full-time. That would be you, and your boss. You've worked 81.8 hours this week, which is serious overtime.
Work passes painfully slow.

[Karkat's P.O.V]
You flip through your old materials, wondering when, or even if, you should text Dave. You notice yourself getting rather irritable And moody as you page through your old notepads and journals, and reach into your pocket. Your hand wraps around a cigarette, and a lighter. (See bottom of page please okay thank -author)
You light it up and look around for an ashtray, which you cannot find because the young you did not smoke. You wonder what that Dave guy would do if he knew about this habit of yours. You shrug to yourself and brush it off. You finally just flick the ash on an old metal table, as to not catch anything on fire. You finish the cigarette and finally pull out your phone, scanning the number left on your bed and adding it to your contacts. Of course, you send him a message then begin to walk home. You decide to stop by the gas mart, as you have ran out of cigarettes.

[Dave's P.O.V]
You bend over and lift up a box, nearly dropping it. You feel your phone go off, but you're too busy to check it. You fill out the form to keep track of any mis-orders, of course, because you must. It's pretty late at night, because the overnight worker is always late as well. You hear the door make the dinging noise that alerts you that there is a customer, head behind the counter, and call out a basic 'hello' as you must before realizing who it is.

"Why hello there, stranger. " you smirk and look down at the small troll standing before you.

"Oh, hey," he replies.

"I texted you." He adds

"Oh?" You check your phone.

"I see you did." You finish.

"Yeah."

"Well, what can I get you?" You ask. Jesus you hate this job.

"Misty mentol one-twenties." He replies.

You raise an eyebrow
"Cigarettes?"

You hate smoking, so much.

"Yeah," he replies, glancing down.

"Okay.." you reach behind the shelf and grab a pack, reluctantly handing it to him.

"Thanks,"

"Mhm.." you reply, then tell him the price. He hands you a couple bills to pay as he pockets them.

"Keep the receipt. But so you work here of all places? That's gotta suck,"

You nod. "It does, honestly, but I've worked here so long and gotten so many raises that no other jobs will pay higher. I'm probably going to be assistant manager eventually."

"Oh? That's cool,"

"Eeeeeh. I'll have to work with the bitch in heels," you chuckle

"The bitch in heels?" He asks

"Yeah. Her name is July. She works at corporate. Nobody really likes her, She Always Wears heels, and thus she has been deemed the bitch in heels." you laugh.

He laughs with you "That's great,"

"Very." you smirk. He blushes very, very faintly.

"Well, its, uh.. getting dark. I should probably head back home."

"Alright. I'm off tomorrow, so, see ya?"

"Yeah," he smiles a bit and takes his leave as you bid your goodbyes.