Chapter 7

(Eleanor works the overnight shift at a Taco bell. Every night at exactly 2:17 a.m., the same girl comes in for bean burritos, energy drinks, and the weirdest conversations imaginable.) P.S: This one shot billie is just a normal person.

Working the night shift at Taco Bell was never something Eleanor planned.

It just… happened.

Like most things in her life.

One day she was applying for “part-time evening cashier,” and the next she was standing under fluorescent lights at 2:03 a.m., trying to convince herself that time was still real and not just a shared hallucination between exhausted people and stale fries.

The world at night was different.

Quieter.

Stranger.

Less honest.

Cars passed like ghosts outside the glass windows. The air smelled like oil, sugar, and something faintly metallic she had stopped trying to identify.

Eleanor leaned against the counter, chin in hand, staring at the slow, flickering menu screen.

“Another hour and I’m free,” she whispered to herself.

The store was empty.

Again.

It usually was at this time.

Until it wasn’t.

—-

At exactly 2:17 a.m., the bell above the door rang.

Not earlier.

Not later.

Always 2:17.

Eleanor didn’t even look up at first.

She already knew.

“You’re late,” she called out.

A familiar voice answered immediately.

“I’m literally on time.”

Eleanor looked up.

The girl stood there like she had just stepped out of a different reality and decided Taco Bell was the most important place to be in all of it.

Dark hoodie.

Messy hair pulled into a half-accidental bun.

Blue eyes that looked permanently half-awake but somehow still alert in a way that made no sense for this hour of the night.

Billie.

Eleanor had never asked for her name.

She just… learned it.

Like a fact of nature.

Like gravity.

Like the way Billie always came at 2:17 a.m.

“You’re always late,” Eleanor corrected.

Billie walked up to the counter, leaning over it slightly.

“I’m not late. Time just has commitment issues.”

“That’s not how time works.”

“It is for me.”

Eleanor sighed, but there was no real frustration in it anymore. It had been replaced weeks ago by something closer to acceptance.

“What’s it today?” she asked.

Billie tapped her fingers against the counter like she was deciding the fate of the universe.

“Three bean burritos,” she said finally.

Eleanor raised an eyebrow.

“Again?”

“They’re emotionally consistent.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“It should be.”

Eleanor started typing into the register.

“And the energy drink?”

Billie nodded immediately.

“Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Eleanor repeated flatly.

“And what weird conversation are we having tonight?” she added.

Billie gasped like she was offended.

“I don’t plan them.”

“You literally always start them.”

“That’s not true.”

Eleanor looked at her.

Billie looked back.

“…Okay, that’s mildly true,” Billie admitted.

Eleanor smirked slightly, turning away to prepare the order.

Behind her, the kitchen hummed quietly. Machines beeped. Oil popped. The world kept pretending it made sense.

Billie leaned on the counter.

“So,” she began.

Eleanor didn’t turn around.

“No.”

Billie blinked.

“You didn’t even let me start.”

“I can feel it coming.”

“That’s not possible.”

“It is. It’s a skill I developed working here.”

Billie tilted her head.

“That sounds like trauma.”

“That sounds like experience.”

Billie hummed thoughtfully.

“Same thing, different font.”

Eleanor couldn’t help it…she laughed under her breath.

She hated that she did that.

Billie noticed immediately.

“Ha. Got you.”

“I did not get got.”

“You laughed.”

“That was a reaction.”

“A human reaction,” Billie corrected proudly.

Eleanor rolled her eyes, placing the burritos into a bag.

“You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” Billie said, leaning closer, “you still talk to me every night.”

Eleanor paused.

Just for a second.

Then slid the bag across the counter.

“$12.47.”

Billie frowned.

“I think you charged me for emotional damage too.”

“I should start.”

Billie reached into her pocket dramatically, pulling out crumpled bills.

“Worth it,” she said.

Eleanor took the money.

For a moment, there was only the soft hum of the store between them.

Then Billie said, very casually:

“Do you ever feel like this place is fake?”

Eleanor looked up.

That was new.

Billie wasn’t smiling now.

She wasn’t joking.

Just watching her.

Eleanor leaned slightly on the counter.

“All the time,” she admitted.

Billie nodded like that answer mattered more than it should have.

“Same.”

Silence settled.

Not awkward.

Just heavier.

Outside, a car passed slowly.

Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked once and stopped.

Billie picked up her bag but didn’t leave immediately.

Instead, she stayed.

As if waiting for something.

Eleanor tilted her head.

“You’re not running off with my burritos this time?”

Billie blinked.

“…I only did that once.”

“You did it twice.”

“I was hungry and morally confused.”

“That’s not an excuse.”

“It is in court.”

Eleanor shook her head, smiling faintly again despite herself.

Billie finally straightened.

“Okay,” she said.

“Okay,” Eleanor echoed automatically.

Billie hesitated at the door.

Then, without turning fully around, she said:

“See you tomorrow at 2:17.”

It wasn’t a question.

It never was.

Eleanor watched her leave, bell ringing softly behind her.

Then the night went quiet again.

But not empty.

Not anymore.

And for reasons she didn’t fully understand yet, Eleanor started counting the minutes until 2:17 a.m. stopped feeling like just another hour… and started feeling like something else entirely.

—-

Eleanor didn’t realize she had started counting time until she caught herself doing it.

2:03 a.m. — register check.
2:08 a.m. — fryer noise, too loud.
2:11 a.m. — check phone without reason.
2:14 a.m. — door feels too quiet.

2:17 a.m. — waiting.

It wasn’t intentional.

It just happened the same way Billie had.

Like a pattern forming without permission.

Like her body knew something her mind hadn’t agreed to yet.

—-

The next night, Billie arrived exactly on time.

As always.

The bell rang.

Eleanor didn’t even look up immediately, but her shoulders loosened slightly without her asking them to.

“You’re consistent, I’ll give you that,” she said.

“Consistency is underrated,” Billie replied, walking straight to the counter.

Same hoodie.

Same slightly messy hair.

Same energy drink already in her hand, like she had brought it from another timeline.

Eleanor scanned her order without thinking.

“Three bean burritos?”

Billie nodded.

“And the usual?”

“Obviously.”

Eleanor started preparing the bag.

But something felt different.

Not in Billie.

In the silence between them.

It wasn’t empty anymore.

It had shape now.

Eleanor hated that she noticed that.

“So,” Billie said casually, leaning onto the counter.

Eleanor didn’t respond immediately.

She could feel it coming again.

The conversation that wasn’t really a conversation.

“You’re going to say something weird,” Eleanor said flatly.

Billie smiled.

“I wasn’t going to.”

“That’s worse.”

Billie laughed lightly, then tapped her fingers against the counter.

“Okay, I was going to say something weird.”

Eleanor sighed.

“Go on.”

Billie hesitated for half a second longer than usual.

That alone made Eleanor look up properly.

Billie wasn’t fully joking tonight.

Not fully herself in the usual way.

“I think I had a dream about this place,” Billie said.

Eleanor paused.

“…This Taco Bell?”

Billie nodded.

“It wasn’t exactly this place. But it felt like it.”

“That’s called déjà vu,” Eleanor said.

“No,” Billie replied softly. “It felt like memory.”

Eleanor frowned slightly.

Billie continued anyway, quieter now.

“I was standing here. You were here. Same lights. Same time.”

She looked around like she was checking if it still matched what she saw in her head.

“And you said something to me,” Billie added.

Eleanor leaned on the counter.

“What did I say?”

Billie shook her head once.

“I don’t remember the words. Just the feeling.”

That made Eleanor uneasy in a way she couldn’t explain.

Not fear.

Just… recognition of something she didn’t have language for.

Billie pushed off the counter, grabbing her bag.

“Anyway,” she said quickly, slipping back into normal tone like she was closing a door, “probably nothing.”

But she didn’t leave immediately.

She never did.

And Eleanor noticed that too.

That night, Billie stayed longer.

Not dramatically.

Not noticeably to anyone else.

But Eleanor felt it.

The pauses stretched.

The silence lingered.

Billie kept asking small questions that didn’t need answers.

“What time do you finish again?”

“Do you ever eat here?”

“Do you like this job or is it just… life?”

Eleanor answered all of them.

But carefully.

Like she was walking around something fragile.

At one point, Billie leaned on the counter and said quietly:

“You feel different when it gets closer to closing.”

Eleanor froze slightly.

“…I don’t.”

Billie tilted her head.

“You do.”

A pause.

Eleanor exhaled slowly.

“Maybe I’m just tired.”

Billie nodded like she accepted that answer, but didn’t believe it.

“That’s fair,” she said.

Then, after a moment:

“I think I only feel normal when I’m here.”

Eleanor looked up quickly.

That line again.

Billie noticed her reaction.

“You’ve heard that before,” Billie said.

Eleanor hesitated.

“…Yeah.”

Billie smiled faintly.

“Then it’s probably true.”

That should’ve sounded casual.

It didn’t.

—–

The rain started a few nights later.

Not heavy.

Just constant.

The kind that made the glass doors look like they were breathing.

Billie came in soaked slightly at the sleeves.

Eleanor noticed immediately again.

“You’re getting worse at avoiding weather,” she said.

Billie looked down at herself.

“I think I’m choosing not to avoid it.”

“That’s not a normal sentence.”

“I don’t think I’m a normal person.”

Eleanor didn’t respond.

That answer felt heavier than it should’ve.

Billie ordered as usual.

But this time, she didn’t move to leave right away.

Instead, she stayed near the counter.

Watching Eleanor work.

Eleanor felt it.

“That’s creeping me out a little,” she admitted.

Billie blinked.

“Not in a bad way.”

Eleanor raised an eyebrow.

“That doesn’t make it better.”

Billie smiled faintly.

“I just… like watching things stay the same.”

Eleanor paused.

“…This place?”

Billie nodded.

“And you.”

That landed differently.

Not dramatic.

Just quiet.

Real.

Eleanor stopped moving for half a second before forcing herself to continue bagging the order.

“You’re weird tonight,” she said.

“I’m always weird.”

“No. This is different weird.”

Billie didn’t argue.

That was new too.

Instead she just said:

“Do you ever think about what happens after this shift?”

Eleanor looked at her.

“What do you mean?”

Billie shrugged.

“Like… after 4 a.m. When everything shuts down. When the night stops pretending it’s normal.”

Eleanor exhaled slowly.

“I go home and sleep.”

Billie nodded.

“Right.”

A pause.

Then, softer:

“I think I stay here longer than I’m supposed to.”

Eleanor frowned slightly.

“You don’t even work here.”

Billie smiled.

“I know.”

That should’ve been a joke.

It wasn’t.

—

When Billie finally left that night, she paused at the door again.

But this time, she didn’t say anything immediately.

She just stood there.

Holding the bag.

Like she was deciding something.

Then she looked back.

“Eleanor.”

Hearing her name like that again made something tighten in her chest.

“Yeah?”

Billie hesitated.

Longer than usual.

Then:

“Don’t forget this.”

Eleanor frowned.

“Forget what?”

Billie shook her head slightly.

“Nothing. Just… don’t forget.”

And then she left.

Bell ringing.

Rain swallowing her footsteps.

Gone.

—

Eleanor stood there longer than she should have.

The store hummed around her.

Machines. Lights. Night air pressing against the glass.

But her mind stayed on that last look.

On the way Billie had said her name.

Like it meant something she wasn’t explaining.

And for the first time, Eleanor didn’t just wait for 2:17 a.m.

She wondered what would happen if one night… Billie didn’t come.