holychopped

[holychopped]

A new record shop opened last week, and you’re thankful since you’re standing in the entrance, peeling off your soaked jacket and leaving it on the coat rack next to the door, trying to wait out the sudden downpour of rain on your walk home.

There’s a soft melody coming from the record player in the corner of the room so you leave your headphones in your jacket pocket when you see there’s really no one else in the store.

You smile at the man behind the counter, who doesn’t do much besides glance up at you before going back to the book he was reading. You stare for a few seconds, entranced by the long fingers that gently hold the book open without breaking the spine, his other hand raised as he absentmindedly pulled on his bottom lip. You bite the inside of your cheek, hard enough to taste blood, as the smallest sliver of his fangs poke through the opening of his mouth.

His eyes quickly dart up to meet yours, his free hand falling to his side. He narrows his eyes the smallest bit as he tilts his head, you swear you can see the whisp of a grin on his face. “Need any help?���

“Oh, um!” You laugh awkwardly, quickly ripping your gaze away from his as you look around the store. “Nope! Ha..ha. Just, um. Yknow!”

“Sure.”

You laugh quietly again, fading off into a deep sigh as you finally take a few steps into the store. You quickly step into the CD aisle, the furthest away from the cash registers.

You flick through the first section you see, trying to preoccupy your racing thoughts. You don’t even like this genre. And you are very much regretting leaving your headphones behind as you replay the scene in your head over and over.

“You like her?” You jump and yelp quietly at the sudden voice behind you. You turn and see him pointing to the CD you held in your hand.

“Oh, um, no.” You place it back to its original spot, shaking your head. “Not really, no.”

You quickly scan the rest of the shelf, picking up a CD of an album you vaguely recognize. “This one, though,” you prattle. “This one’s nice.”

“Never heard of it,”

You do not blatantly stare at his fangs as he speaks, definitely not.

“But I’ll take your word for it.”

You nod and finally look him in the eyes, a dumb smile covering your face as you huff a laugh. “Yeah, ha.. I have good taste!” Your eyes flicker down to his mouth again. “Music taste, that is. Not because,” you stammer, cringing at yourself. “Yknow, you’re.” You bite the inside of your lip. “I really like music.”

He stares at you, a small grin overtaking his face as he nods, “Well we are in a music shop,” He says, glancing around the empty store.

He gently takes the CD from your hands, his fingers ghosting over yours, his cool touch soothes your burning skin. He turns it over in his hands, looking over the songs on the back. He hums quietly before he puts it back onto the shelf. He looks back at you, his eyes running along your exposed collarbone, raking up your neck before finally looking you in the eyes.

Every movement he makes is languid and smooth, like honey dripping from a spoon.

“Do you collect?” He says, his voice steady but soft.

“Mh-mh.” You hum, shaking your head. “I don’t even own a record play or anything, actually.” You tug at your fingers nervously, trying to ignore the heat in your cheeks.

“That’s a shame.” He hums, straightening out a few piles in front of him.

“Hm?”

“I collect records.” He states.

“Oh. That’s nice, how many do you have?”

“I go to the record store a lot, because of it. That's why I work here.” He ignores your question, quietly rambling as he continues to tidy.

You nod your head, your eyes following his perfected movements of straightening out and sorting through the CDs, you watch with baited breath as his fingers flick through them. You bite your tongue to keep your nervous rambling to yourself.

You pick up a CD from the other side of the aisle, a band you actually enjoy listening to. “Well, my car still has a CD player in it, so.” You flip it over, reading the song titles on the back. You suck your teeth at the price but cover the sound by clearing your throat. “Maybe I can, um, start? A collection, I mean.”

He hums quietly, nodding his head as he smiles a little. “Good choice,” He says, nodding to what you’re holding.

“Um, thanks.” Heat rises to the back of your neck as you fail to not openly stare at the man.

You finally take a second to actually look around the store, the walls covered in many different records and CDs on display, most of them you recognize but some you don’t. There are a few posters on the walls of music artists with their albums and CDs displayed next to it.

You take a few steps toward the record player in the corner, the album it’s playing displayed next to it. You watch it spin for a few seconds, listening to it cut to a quiet static as the final song ends.

You jump as the man silently appears behind you again, a hand gently resting on your waist for a second as he passes, gone before you could really recognize it was even there. A noise leaves your mouth that sounds halfway between a gasp and a squeak.

“This is my favorite album.” He says casually, carefully placing the record back into its protective sleeve.

You nod your head and let out a shaky hum. You slightly lean against one of the tables behind you, your legs a little shaky.

You feel very dramatic about the small touch.

“Are you ready?” He turns to you with a small smile, nearly a grin.

“Ready?” You question, tilting your head.

His gaze flickers down to your exposed neck for a second before looking into your eyes. “To check out?” His tone sounds teasing but there’s blood rushing through your ears so you can’t quite tell.

“Yes!” You say, a bit too loud. “You can check me out. Well, not, y’know, check me out,” You ramble. “But you can check me out at the register, where I will be. Buying… my CD. I mean, unless…”

You quickly turn and walk away towards the register, shaking your head as you stare at the ground. You can hear his huff of laughter behind you, which only makes the red in your face burn brighter.

He’s already behind the register as you walk up. You blink at this, but put the CD down on the counter anyways.

He takes it and scans the barcode on the back, placing it inside a small bag. You avoid eye contact as you pay, fiddling with your wallet.

“Alright, you’re all set.” He says quietly, holding out the bag for you to take.

You reach for the bag but he raises it before you can take it. He leans in close, his eyes slightly narrowed, a smile on his lips. You do not stare at his fangs.

“You have to take care of it, yeah? Careful not to scratch it.” He shakes the bag a little.

“Mhm.” You hum, nodding your head dumbly.

“Good job.” He praises quietly, his voice low.

Your mouth falls open a little as he hands you the bag, you take it and nod your head again, biting the inside of your lip.

“The rains stopped.” He points to the window, where the sun is shining through a few clouds, the rain seemingly stopped for at least a few minutes.

“Uh-huh.” You jerkily nod your head. It takes you a few seconds to collect yourself before you start walking towards the door.

You take your jacket off the rack, pretty much dry by now. You flush again when you glance over at him while putting it on again, just to see him watching you, his throat bobbing as he swallows harshly.

You give him a small wave before you open the door and walk out, a small bell ringing above your head.