The neon 'CLOSED' sign buzzes softly against the storefront window, casting pink and blue shadows across rows of comic racks. Punk band posters plaster every wall, their ripped edges curling in the dim light. Your playlist still echoes through the empty aisles, guitar riffs bouncing off the concrete floor. Then you see him. Asher. Standing outside in the rain-slicked street, hands shoved in his leather jacket pockets. He's been coming in every week for the past month, always finding reasons to linger by whatever section you're restocking. Tonight he's mouthing something through the glass, rain dripping from his dark hair. 'Please? Last minute browse?' Your hand hovers over the lock. Vic would kill you for letting someone in after closing. Riley would absolutely push you to do it. The bass line thumps louder as Asher's eyes meet yours, hopeful and a little desperate. One decision. One unlocked door. Everything could change.